#i was going to say more in tags but i’m SLEEPY .!!!!! SO GOODNIGHT. THROWS VIDEOS INTO THE AIR <3 ZZZZZ | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

dolphin-enthusiast · 4 years

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ahhh it is embarrassing how my siblings find me in the most candid moments,, i'm just glad that the video didn't spread too far among my friends,, because i know for a fact that if it reached far enough, someone would end up posting it here!! at least they always threaten to do so... 😖💫 oh my, and morgy dear, you are one sly fox, don't think i missed where you called my existence "ethereal" in tags... you are way too sweet to me!! but really, the only thing ethereal here is you~ 💞 (2/9)

"i started watching playthroughs of the ace attorney games today (since i can't afford to buy any of them) and i really enjoy it so far!! i can't wait to watch more, and this coming week, i plan to set a day aside to watch more of our show 😉 (3/9)

ooh, something quite funny has happened today,, i put out this question on instagram asking if any of my friends want to go out for dinner with me sometime (since i was bored and i think it's a nice idea hehe) and now i have TONS of people saying yes!! oh gosh, it's quite crazy! i feel bad for it but i think i have to pic just a few people, since the amount of contenders is overwhelming,, ahhhh i do hope they'll take it well!! 😅 (4/9)

today was spent working,, tailoring clothes and cleaning the house to be exact,, it was all so tiring, and unfortunately i was the only one who was able to do it since everyone else was "busy",, mamma mia,, but i did end up having to do more food shopping today, and it started to storm super hard while i was out! i am scared of thunderstorms, so being out and about during one is truly a nightmare for me!! (5/9)

they are so beautiful but terrifying at the same time,, oh gosh, it was even worse since i was out by myself,, no one to latch onto for safety 😖 i think the thunderstorm may be related to a hurricane that is incoming towards my country,, it most likely won't hit as bad in the north (where i am) since the storms tend to die down and wash out in the atlantic by the time they reach here, so we'll probably just get more thunderstorms,, (6/9)

though in return, we get these awful storms that we call nor'easters, which are basically wintry hurricanes they are truly awful for me to live through since i do not do well with cold at all,, my friends and i actually got caught in one by accident last year, and we were stuck outside for 3 whole hours... ah that was such a scary situation!!!!we all ended up going to the hospital to get checked out since we were trapped for so long... (7/9)

everyone i know in person always talks about how we're "survivors", but i'm not sure if that's the right term to use... i guess it's the law of equivalent exchange? a hurricane for a nor'easter hehe ☁ speaking of storms, when the rain died down, i went to check on the bunnies,, and the poor cuties were soaked and shivering! i offered them my raincoat and umbrella to stay under, but i guess they were desperately cold, to the point where they cuddled up to me! (8/9)

i ended up laying there for half an hour, trying to warm the little bunbuns up,, and even though i came home shivering myself, i'm so happy that sacrificing my body heat was enough to help them!! 😊 oh my stars, i feel the tiredness hitting me, I guess that means sleepy time hehe! goodnight dolcezza, i'll see you tomorrow!! sending sweet dreams your way 💕 - love always, your adoring waifu 💋🌺💘💌🌠 ps: we must definitely go out to dinner together,, no if's and's or but's about it~! 😘 (9/9)"

Ok so before i say anything else tungle mighr have eaten the first part to ur letter and im boutta throw fists 🗿🗿🗿🗿 but either way i gotta say darling my eyes read over the words "sly fox" and i immediately c r e a s e d jhdusuxhdjs im only stating facts alright🤪🤪🤪 it wouldn't be the first time someone calls me sly but i take that as a compliment really👁️

And before we dive d e e p e r lemme tell u a lil secret....i myself did not buy the aa games so if u acc want to play em hmu👀👁️👀👁️

Ok so as for the storms thing i gotta say thats fuckin wild ur life really does sound like a move darling u know rhshxhd i do know its esp bad lately from another american friend of mine who told me that it also heavily rained in her area (she's on the east coast) so🗿🗿🗿 but ig u would be called survivors since technically u made it thru a natural disaster which is fuckin w i l d

Its nice to see that u were more productive again ofc (and also u warming those poor bunnies up? Icon 11/10 disney princess right fuckin here) but i gotta say once more idk how u do it....i'd be burning up the house when attempting to cook and shredding the clothes in less than a second🤡 my day was spent writing (smth non jojo related) then i went out and played football until my legs gave in and pain shot thru my entire body since my dumbass can go at it for h o u r s completely ignoring if i scrape some skin or shit like that just bc i wanna push thru and keep playing a h a

On another note, im p sure ur friends would all want to go out w u (i myself the most but shh) 👁️

#damn right im a sly snakey fox 😳😳#bc i'd be lying if i'd say i wouldn't fly to america and protecc u from [za storms]#the confessional

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artificialqueens · 5 years

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malamente part 3 (branjie) - evan

AN: buckle up, yall. Things are popping off in this chapter. Check Tags! The domestic violence gets more explicit in this one, but I promise this is as bad as it gets.

Thanks as always to Meggie, beta extraordinaire, and to everyone who has left me such encouraging comments about this. I’m glad you’re all loving it <3 <3

I’m @formercongressman!

–

And just like that, Brooke has a friend.

Vanessa texts her a different cat video pretty much every day, and Brooke maybe-too-eagerly wipes the sleep out of her eyes to watch them on the mornings when she wakes up to a message from Vanessa on her phone. Brooke buys her more drinks (and if there’s a power dynamic there, they don’t acknowledge it) and over the course of a few weeks they finish Jason’s bottle of scotch. Stories flow out of them like water: Vanessa talks about her own short-lived aspirations of a dancing career, Brooke complains about her vapid yoga teacher, and they both gush about their resilient mothers. There’s never a lull, even for a second. Vanessa thanks her for a reason to get out of her house.

Vanessa invites her out and Brooke meets Silky and A’keria, her best friends and coworkers from the dress store. They’re loud and bright and boy they can drink, and even as the dancefloor is spinning Brooke and Vanessa make sure to keep an eye on each other, pull each other away from too-handsy men. They dance until the lights come on at 3 a.m.

And really, they’re just friends.

(Just friends, she reminds herself, when Vanessa shows up at her house wearing a short green dress and Brooke has to work hard to not stare at her legs and the cut of the muscle in her thigh. Just friends, she knows to think, every time Vanessa is on the phone with her boyfriend. Just friends, when Vanessa comes over for brunch and perches on her countertop while she watches Brooke make puff pastry by hand. Just friends, when Vanessa reaches under the table to set her hand on Brooke’s knee and sparks shoot down her leg again. Absolutely just friends.)

Brooke killed her husband a month ago. She’s got other intrusive thoughts to worry about.

And yet, it gets easier. Brooke sages the house like Vanessa told her, adores the lingering smell, and the shadows stop moving out of the corner of her eye. The kitchen becomes hers again. She stops walking around the spot where his body fell and dances to music she hasn’t listened to since high school while she cooks dinner.

She makes plans for a garden. It’s something she wants. She’d always loved the green space in the backyard, fighting tooth and nail to prevent Jason from turning it into a pool, but a garden could really do it justice. She hires someone professional to do it, and they dig into the red clay earth to set up better soil and drainage. She stares into the shallow ditch in her backyard expectantly, because she’s pretty sure there’s a promise somewhere in there.

“I killed him,” she says one night to an empty room. No might have, no think I maybe. She’s starting to own it. It’s a fact, and every day she goes without a bruise on her skin (she’s at 47) makes her feel a little less scared of that reality.

Nina says she looks taller. Brooke lilts between the cupboards as she’s unpacking her groceries, and that’s when Nina starts to notice something’s actually different.

“You’re fucking somebody, aren’t you?” Nina leans against Brooke’s counter like she already knows the answer.

“No, I’m not.” Brooke feels her face threaten to flush and she turns away before Nina can catch it, busying herself with needlessly rearranging the nuts and raisins.

“Come on. What’s his name?”

Brooke throws on a very performatively serious face. “There’s nobody-”

“What’s her name?” Nina cuts her off.

Brooke stops putting away her groceries to give Nina a long glare. She regrets ever telling Nina about a whirlwind fling and inexplicably massive heartbreak over an Icelandic ballerina one night when she was drunk and spewing unfiltered feelings. And Nina sees right through her now, always does, and Brooke rolls her eyes and relents. Partially.

“You’re the one who told me to make a friend. So I did. Her name’s Vanessa. She lives with her boyfriend, and we hang out. That’s it.”

“And you like her.”

“I enjoy her company. We’re friends.”

Nina narrows her eyes, and Brooke worries for a moment that she can somehow read her mind. “And where did you meet?”

Brooke hesitates, Nina catches it. “At a bar.” Brooke thinks she should really work on being a better liar.

“There’s something you’re not telling me,” Nina says, “and I’m going to find out what it is.” Brooke has every reason to believe that she will.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Brooke can’t look at her, so she tears into the package of lemons in her bag and starts putting them into her hanging fruit basket.

“You’re a terrible secret-keeper, Brooke.”

“Oh, fuck off.”

If only she knew. Brooke adds a new item to the list of things she’s keeping from Nina.

–

Vanessa falls asleep on Brooke’s couch a little before midnight on a Wednesday with an episode of Parks & Recreation playing softly on the TV. Brooke has this moment bookmarked in her memory for two reasons:

1. Vanessa is even beautiful when she’s sleeping. She’s got this kind of serenity and stillness that Brooke never finds in her always-expressive face during the day. Her collarbone shifts as she steadily breathes. Brooke wants to smack herself for focusing in on this.

2. Brooke will shortly realize that if Vanessa had stayed awake, or if Brooke had just woken her up and gotten her home, every second of chaos and fear they were to endure in the coming days could have been avoided. It’s something of a morbid turning point.

Anyway.

Vanessa comes over to Brooke’s for dinner and brings a pasta dish she baked at home. Brooke tosses a salad with caramelized brussels sprouts and dried apricots. They eat and chat about Vanessa’s most recent dress heist from her work, this time for A’keria, and the thrill of walking past her boss all smiles with the dress balled up in her drawstring bag.

They had originally wanted to find a movie to watch, but Brooke insists on bingeing a few episodes of Parks & Rec when Vanessa says she’s never seen it. They start in the middle of a season, with some of Brooke’s favorite episodes, and she smiles as she catches Vanessa chucking out of the corner of her eye. But after what she thinks is four (and is actually six) episodes, Vanessa is slumped to the side of the couch, eyes lightly shut, fast asleep in the glow of the television.

Brooke watches her for probably what is longer than is normal. It’s longer than is friendly, that’s for sure, but she’s definitely not ready to deal with that. But after a moment she makes the decision (a conscious decision, she will remind herself later) to get up and grab her a blanket and pillow, to help her get comfy, to let her stay as long as she wants. Her shoes are already off, and her dress doesn’t seem like the most comfortable thing to be sleeping in, but Brooke manages to adjust her so her head is down on the pillow and her shoulders are covered by the blanket. She turns off the screen and watches as Vanessa curls into the covers.

(She could run the pad of her thumb over Vanessa’s smooth cheekbones. She could press a kiss to her temple, whisper goodnight, wonder if she heard. Vanessa would probably be warm, with a body temperature a few degrees higher than most humans, a furnace, a generator. As much as Brooke wants to touch, she doesn’t. She really, really thinks about it, though.)

She leaves the hall light on, in case Vanessa gets up. She leaves the door to her bedroom cracked, because Vanessa might need her in the night. And maybe she falls asleep thinking about what that might look like. Maybe.

–

“Fuck!”

Brooke stirs in the morning as she hears a voice, a muffled shout, and what sounds like something heavy thudding against the carpet in the living room. She pulls the throw blanket over her shoulders and steps out of her room to lean against hallway door frame.

Vanessa is hobbling around with one heel on and turning over couch cushions. She notices Brooke and draws in a breath. “What time is it? Can’t find my damn phone.”

“Um,” Brooke peers at the oven clock. “Almost nine-thirty.”

“Fuck. I’m gonna be late for work.” Vanessa sighs with relief when she finally uncovers her phone. “Can you drive me?”

“Yeah, of course.” Brooke grabs Vanessa’s other shoe from over by the door and brings it to her. She would almost find Vanessa stumbling around in the morning almost endearing if she didn’t look so legitimately uneasy.

“I shouldn’t have stayed here last night.” Vanessa’s tone is serious, which wakes Brooke up a bit more. “He’s gonna be so pissed I didn’t come home.”

They don’t talk about Victor much. Vanessa doesn’t bring it up, Brooke doesn’t pry, as she figures Vanessa would prefer an escape from that world. So it’s jarring. Usually Vanessa is unshakably carefree, but Brooke can feel the crease in her eyebrows and she’s drained of her usual vibrance, so Brooke knows this is something to worry about.

“All right. I’ll get dressed. Okay.”

She tosses on sweats quickly, trying to wipe the unwelcome sleepiness out of her eyes as she tries to make her brain catch up with her body. They hop into Brooke’s car, and Vanessa is typing furiously on her phone in the passenger seat as they drive, silent except for the occasional quiet exasperated click of her tongue.

“What’s up?” Brooke asks after Vanessa turns her phone upside down on the dashboard in frustration.

“He’s losing it. Over nothing.”

“I’m so sorry, I should have woken you–”

“It’s not you. There’s nothing to be mad about, it’s literally nothing, and he’s acting like I’ve got a secret family or some shit.”

Because there’s nothing to worry about, right?

It’s not nothing. She can’t tell if Vanessa knows that. But they’re rapidly approaching a boiling point and Brooke knows sooner rather than later she’s going to have to address it.

“Are you going to be all right after work?” Brooke asks evasively instead.

“Yeah, it’s fine.”

Brooke doesn’t believe her for a second, but she doesn’t want to make this feel any worse than it already is, so she leaves it.

She drops Vanessa off in front of the dress boutique right on time for her shift, and Brooke is comforted that she seems to relax just a little.

“Thank you. Seriously.” Vanessa leans in through the car window to lock into her gaze.

“You’ll text me?”

“I will. And don’t worry, it’s gonna get sorted out. You seem more worried than I do!”

Vanessa laughs, but it doesn’t reach her eyes, so Brooke isn’t sure that that’s true.

–

V: a’keria noticed i’m wearing the same dress as yesterday and now she thinks we’re fucking

V: so sorry for that in advance

B: lol could you imagine!

Maybe Brooke can’t un-make the choices she made last night, but she sure can backpedal. She tries not to stare at that text for too long. She tries not to think about Vanessa. She folds the blanket on the couch and puts it back in the closet without a second thought. She’s making Vanessa’s world harder, and it’s the last thing she wants. So she resolves to dial it down.

She doesn’t hear from Vanessa much more for the rest of the day, and Brooke thinks she’s just not looking at her phone as often. It makes sense. No news is good news, she tells herself for some reason. Plus, the one text she got was a joke, which puts her a bit more at ease. But something feels off. She knows Vanessa gets off work at six, but she goes through her evening without a single text. She tries not to worry, but that isn’t her strong suit.

Just as she’s settling in under the covers a little after 11, her phone lights up.

V: hey can I come over tonight?

B: i was about to go to bed, actually

B: but tomorrow?

Once Brooke is enveloped in her comforter cocoon, it’s hard to drag her out. Plus, distance. Backpedaling. She’s not expecting the response.

V: Actually

V: I can’t stay here tonight

V: And Silky and A’keria aren’t texting me back

V: And things got bad

V: I need to get out of here I think

Brooke’s stomach plummets and she’s throwing on clothes blindly for the second time that day.

B: yes

B: of course

B: be there in 20

The key is in the ignition of her car and she doesn’t remember walking out there, and she’s about to back out of her garage when she checks her phone one more time.

V: don’t you live 30 min away?

B: yep

Brooke runs a couple lights and makes it in fifteen.

She’s been to Vanessa’s place before, picking her up or dropping her off, but she’s never been inside before. She and Victor live on the top floor of a duplex, and she climbs the rickety wooden stairs to the entrance off the deck. Come inside and back down the hallway, Vanessa had texted her. I’m not sure I can come out of this room to get you. Brooke steels herself and tries not to let her imagination run wild over what that possibly means.

Brooke shivers as the door squeaks shut behind her. She turns quickly but quietly to try and navigate the dark kitchen and find Vanessa when she catches sight of Victor. He’s sitting in the adjoined room lit only by a rapidly flickering TV screen. It’s eerie. If he sees her, he doesn’t acknowledge her, and she doesn’t give him much of a chance as she steps softly into the hallway.

Brooke feels the same icy drip down her back from when she thought her house was haunted, but she doesn’t pause to shudder. Brooke isn’t quite sure what she’s walking into, and she knows it’s bad, but even then she doesn’t doubt for a second the way her body seems to carry itself towards Vanessa, to do anything to make sure she’s safe.

Brooke drums her fingernails on the thin, closed door. “Hey,” she says softly, “it’s me.

The door opens just a crack, then all the way, and Brooke steps inside. The room is a wreck, with dresser drawers thrown open and a duffel bag and a suitcase on the bed exploding with fabrics and things that seem to have been hastily stuffed inside. But then she turns to see Vanessa, closing the door and relocking it with a barely perceptible click, and Brooke freezes.

Vanessa has a black eye. Vanessa has a cut across her cheek.

“Fuck,” Brooke whispers. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Figured you were probably freaked out enough.” Vanessa winces as she smiles. Like nothing’s wrong.

“He did this?”

“He did this because I didn’t come home last night.” She points to the bruise darkening around her left eye. “And then this when I said I was leaving.” The cut on her cheek isn’t pretty, won’t heal well, but it looks like she’s been dabbing it with a cloth to keep the bleeding down. “So I’m definitely leaving. Right now.”

Brooke is at a loss for what to do. She’s ready to give her water and a blanket and a distraction, just like Nina would offer her the nights she had to stay over. But that’s not the same kind of girl that’s standing in front of her right now. Vanessa’s got fire in her eyes, a tight jaw, and she looks angry enough to climb out a second story window if she has to.

“I’m so sorry, this is– I should have–”

“Brooke, no, it’s not your fault. Don’t even start with that.” Vanessa’s voice is the most confident and self-aware sound Brooke’s heard in her life. “It’s not your fault, or mine, it’s his.”

(Vanessa is like a smooth rock in river full of rapids. She’s glimmering like a piece of sea glass hidden in the sand. She stands resolute against a current that threatens to shift and transform her, and it’s nothing short of sublime.)

Brooke’s used to storing blame in the space in between her shoulders, a space she always struggled to loosen even when she was dancing, even before she was with Jason. But maybe it doesn’t always belong there.

“It is,” she agrees. “It is his fault.”

“Good. Now help me zip this shit.”

Brooke helps her wrestle her suitcase shut, somehow managing to cram the rest of Vanessa’s unfolded clothes inside of it. She sighs, tosses the duffel bag over her shoulder, and Brooke takes the heavy suitcase by its handle, not trusting the low grind of the wheels.

They plan to move quick, to get out the door and down the stairs and into Brooke’s car before Victor can get off the couch, but these things never seem to go to plan. Vanessa is halfway out the door to the porch when the floorboards behind them creak.

“No. You aren’t leaving.” It’s a low voice from the living room.

Vanessa stops in the doorway and turns. “It’s over, Victor.”

He’s smaller than Brooke imagined. Paler, washed out. But solidly there, right in front of them. Jason would only get violent when he was drunk, but Victor seems perfectly sober which is all the more terrifying.

“You don’t get to just decide that,” he starts, “you don’t get to just–”

“I can do what I want.” Vanessa steps forward, back into the kitchen, back into harm’s way like she knows exactly what she’s doing. Brooke wants to grab Vanessa’s arm, lead her out the door, deescalate the situation, but she can’t quite move, can’t quite speak, can only watch the lighted fuse creep closer to set off a bomb.

“And who the fuck is this?” Victor gestures towards Brooke, pointed finger, and she shifts back.

“Nobody.”

“Is this who you’re staying with? You’re cheating on me with some blonde bitch?”

Vanessa snaps, and Brooke can see all of the rage in her small body ready to bubble out. “I swear to god, you’re gonna burn in hell–“

Victor raises a flat palm at Vanessa, and then everything moves too fast for Brooke to think. She just acts.

Brooke steps into the line of fire. She’s got her hands around Victor’s arm, pulling him back harder than what she thought she was capable. He’s clearly caught off guard too, and he briefly loses his footing. But he’s also stronger than he looks, and his hands rain down hard against her skin. Vanessa’s yelling, but the words don’t quite reach Brooke’s ears. She’d like for it to feel good to fight back, but truthfully, it’s all too much.

When Victor throws Brooke into the spice rack, in a brief moment of clarity she notes the criminally underused quantity of cardamom that Vanessa has. Then she feels the sharp crack of her head against the corner of the shelving unit, hears the small plastic canisters raining down around her, and feels the sharp pain radiate through her skull. Fuck.

And then he’s holding something, a rolling pin maybe, standing over her and silhouetted by the too-bright fluorescent light from the ceiling. She brings up an arm over her head, looks away, but then there’s a thud different than the one she was expecting as whatever he’s holding drops to the linoleum tile.

He’s choking. Gurgling. His body buckles, falls to the side against the refrigerator, and a patch of blood starts to spread across his chest.

Brooke looks up to see Vanessa, holding a carving knife now coated in blood, frozen with total horror in her eyes.

“Oh,” Brooke says. “Oh wow.”

#rpdr fanfiction #brooke lynn hytes #vanessa vanjie mateo #nina west #branjie #lesbian au #angst #hurt/comfort #malamente #evan #tw domestic violence #tw violence #tw murder #concrit welcome #submission

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