#my solution is simple really just draw whatever and ur good

[drag00ni]

Absolutely adore drawing him

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Hallucination

Prompts: i love your fics insanity and real or not real!! can i request another fic where a side is struggling to tell what's real and what's a hallucination? can be in the same like universe (carrying on with one of the stories) or a completely different universe/person, idm - anon

 *crashes into ur asks*

Hey if you’re still taking requests could you do just Janus comforting someone on the verge of a meltdown? Like lots of soft words and caring Janus? He’s my comfort character and I love him - anon

Thanks for the prompt!

Read on Ao3 Part 1 (ish) 

Warnings: talk of hallucinations, uncertainty

Pairings: focus on creativitwins, intrulogical, dukeceit, background LAMP, DLAMP, DLAMPR, can be platonic or romantic, you decide

Word Count: 3864

Sometimes Thomas watches things and it isn’t Remus’s fault.

Sometimes Thomas decides to watch something late at night, when it’s dark outside, even though Virgil tells him it’s a bad idea, and it isn’t Remus’s fault.

 Sometimes when Virgil has gone to his room and he’s fine, but Thomas’s mind can’t stop playing it over and over and over and over, he starts to expand on it and it isn’t Remus’s fault.

 He can’t remember the name of the video. Something to do with being stuck on a misty island in the middle of nowhere with a monster and villagers that wait to sacrifice tourists to the monster to sate its hunger. Something about a daring rescue or an escape plan doomed to fail.

 Something like…

 “Do not go outside. Do not turn on the lights. Don’t make sounds.” The old man draws the curtains sharply across the window. “And whatever you do, do not look out the window.”

 It’s late now. Patton’s asleep. Virgil’s in his room, probably asleep. The rest of them are still awake in the Imagination. It’s slumber party night for the twins, having created a big sprawling mansion in the Imagination for them to run around in. Logan is here, Janus is here, Roman is here.

 Villagers?

 They’re talking about what Thomas watched.

 Logan straightens his legs out. “It’s not a bad practice, staying quiet.”

 Janus rolls his eyes. “Come on, what is this, some haunted island?”

 “You saw the people in the video.” Logan rests his weight on his elbows. “Something was amiss.”

 “The only thing amiss was how awfully boring you lot are being.” Janus sighs and stands, stretching. “Well, I think a night of entertainment sounds wonderful.”

 “The old man said to be quiet,” Roman points out. Wait, is the old man real?

 “Do you know how prone to flights of fancy old people are?” Janus smiles. “Incredibly.”

 “Hmm.”

 “Oh don’t start that.” Janus rolls his eyes and his gaze lands on Remus. A smirk crawls across his face. “Well,” he drawls, sauntering across the room, “someone’s being awfully quiet.”

 Remus just shrugs. Janus crouches down.

 “What do you think about this monster,” he asks, tapping his fingers on his chin, “about the thing that sneaks around this island, peering into windows, through the keyholes of locked doors?”

 “Janus,” Logan warns.

 “What? I just want to hear what our other little scientist thinks about this.” He raises his eyebrows when Remus won’t hold his gaze. “No? Nothing? Need more data? Well, I’m sure you could ask around if you wanted to.”

 “We’re not supposed to leave,” he says softly.

 “I know you’re a goody-two-shoes, Remus, but you’ll never get anything done that way.”

 “Leave him alone, Janus,” Roman says with a wink, “he’s just mad at how pathetic the monster design was.”

 Long limbs. Dark eyes. Moved like shadow.

 “And the Boy Scout, coming to the rescue.” Janus rolls his eyes as he stands. “Aren’t you tired of being so boring?”

 Roman holds his hands up. “Hey, I’m all for exploring!”

 Janus sighs. “Ever the dashing prince, are we?”

 “Ask nicely and I may sweep you off your feet too.”

 The banter continues. Logan just sighs and pulls out a journal, the pen emerging from god-knows-where as he writes. Remus swallows and glances toward the window.

 In. Out. In. Out.

 Roman and Janus are still tossing barbs and jests back and forth. Remus cannot help but notice how loud they are being.

 The old man said to be quiet.

 Logan looks up when he begins to crouch down and shuffle behind the bed.

 “What are you doing?”

 “Changing.” He gives a half-hearted smile. “Texture spoons ran out.”

 He nods and goes back to his writing. Remus glances at the nightstand. Only 8:00. The conversation gets progressively louder. Logan joins in eventually, rolling his eyes at Roman’s increasingly elaborate proposals to bring in jukeboxes, disco lights, and speakers.

 “Let’s think about this logically. If the ghosts or whatever the hell the monster is sensitive to sound, why not pump everything to like, 300 decibels and blast their eardrums out?”

 “Or it could be that they just hear things like we hear things,” Logan remarks.

 “Mm.”

 “Why do I have to be quiet?” Roman spreads his arms. “I should not have to deal with that!”

 “Actually, you know what,” Janus says gleefully, “I agree. We shouldn’t have to be quiet. If this place doesn’t have adequate monster protection, that’s on them.”

 This place…didn’t they make it safe? Roman said they made it safe. Is it not safe anymore? Are the shadows—is the monster here?

 “Always the entitlement,” Logan sighs, seemingly resigning himself to the voice of reason as he settles his journal to the side, “assuming that everyone should cater to your needs.”

 “Oh come on, Logan. You have to admit that having a hotel that isn’t secure makes little to no sense.”

 Hotel? Isn’t this still the mansion?

 The low buzz of an LED sign comes from outside. Remus blinks. Has…has that always been there?

 “Not respecting the rules of wherever you choose to go makes little to no sense.”

 “That’s gotta hold up in court though.” Roman glances at Janus. “You get me?”

 “Yes, Your Honor,” Janus says, drawing himself up like a lawyer, “I would like to sue on the grounds that my intestines were devoured horrifically by a terrifying, savage beast that the hotel owners neglected to inform me of. How am I standing here, you ask, if my intestines have been devoured? Simple. Spite.”

 Roman’s off, cackling to his heart’s content. Logan bites back his own smile.

 “And how, may I ask, is this not the fault of yourself?”

 “May I say, Your Honor, that victim-blaming is not cute—“

 “Here here,” comes Roman’s voice.

 “—and also, the information about aforementioned monster came from someone who was not an employee of the hotel,” Janus finishes grandly, “therefore they can suck my—“

 Logan hits his hand against the nightstand, still fighting down laughter. “Defendant is charged with contempt of court.”

 “Do not pass go,” Roman chortles as Janus swoons dramatically, “do not collect 200 dollars.”

 “Remus,” Janus cries out, “avenge me!”

 Remus does not respond. He is too busy trying to figure out when the mansion became the hotel.

 “Remus,” Janus cries again, crawling dramatically across the floor, “save me from this indignity.”

 “No, thank you,” he mumbles instead.

 Janus huffs, pushing himself off the floor. “Then by all means, please tell us your ingenious solution to this monster problem that we find ourselves in.”

 Remus looks up, his face carefully blank except for a small smile. “I’m going to hide underneath the sheets,” he says in a soft, small voice, “because everybody knows monsters can’t get you when you’re under your sheets.”

 “That is adorable,” Roman chuckles.

 Janus’s eyebrows raise slowly until another fiendish smirk crawls across his face. “Are you scared?”

 “Yes.”

 “Aww,” he coos, “hiding under the sheets to get away from the monsters, how adorable.”

 Remus doesn’t respond.

 “If only the others could see you now,” Janus crows, “they’d know how intimidating you really are.”

 Logan takes his glasses off, polishing them with the handkerchief from his pocket. “As if you’re any better, crying over a torn seam in your cape.”

 “That bastard took two weeks to get right!”

 Remus ignores them once more, glancing at the clock. 9:45. An acceptable time to try and go to sleep. He moves slowly and quietly as he tries to get into the bed. The monster could be here. The banter continues behind him as he pulls the sheets tight around him.

 He does not see Logan glance over. He does not see that Logan frowns and glances at the clock, thinking perhaps Remus is more tired than he appeared, but…still. He does not see Logan look back at the others still talking, they’re probably not going to go to sleep for a long while.

 He does not see Logan look over at him as Janus leaves the room, claiming he’s going to go find somewhere more fun to sleep. He does not see Logan frown, looking to see Remus still on his side, huddled under the sheets. He does not see when Logan starts to count.

 One, two, three, four.

 One, two, three, four, five, six, seven.

 One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight.

 He does not see Logan beckon Roman closer.

 He does not see Roman frown as he comes closer, sighing at the notebook in Logan’s hands.

 “Logan, why the hell can’t you take a break for…” he trails off when he sees Logan’s face. “What?”

 “Perhaps I like to keep myself occupied,” Logan says smoothly, even as he nods insistently to the notebook, “even in times where the circumstances might be less than ideal.”

 Roman raises an eyebrow. Subtle, Logan.

 “You are chronically incapable of taking a break, aren’t you?”

 “Perhaps.”

 “Do you know any words other than ‘perhaps?’”

 “Perhaps.”

 Roman hides a smirk as squints at the text.

 I think Remus is actually afraid. Don’t tease. - L

 Remus does hear Roman exhale sharply. He does not see him glance up at the bed before he looks back at Logan and nods.

 “Well,” he sighs, stretching and yawning exaggeratedly, “on that note, it’s probably a good idea to try and sleep.”

 Logan snorts. “And here I thought you were supposed to be an actor.”

 He swats at him halfheartedly as he starts getting ready to go to sleep. What that means is just a matter of snapping his fingers to change out of the prince costume. He packs his other clothes away and crosses the room, keeping his footsteps loud but not too loud.

 Now that he’s paying attention, he can see how scared poor Remus is. He’s frozen under the sheets, barely moving. As Logan starts talking quietly to himself, he sets his bag down next to Remus’s and sighs, moving around to make a bit more noise.

 Remus still doesn’t move.

 When he’s made all the noise he can reasonably make, he walks a little closer to the bed and reaches to fix the curtains, unable to stop the soft noise when his shadow falls over the bed.

 “Hey, Re,” he whispers, leaning down and brushing the sheet a little further from his face, “it’s just me, it’s just Roman. Can you open your eyes for me?”

 It takes him a moment but his eyes do open. He smiles down at him and cups his face for a moment.

 “Hey, there, Re,” he murmurs, “can I come join you?”

 He barely nods.

 “Thank you.” He frowns when he doesn’t move over. “You gonna let me in?”

 He can tell by the way his eyes glass over that’s not a good idea unless he can convince him otherwise.

 “Come on,” he whispers again, “scoot to the other side for me.” He nudges his shoulder gently. “Logan misses you.”

 Loren doesn’t let his mumuring falter but he does reach across the small space between their beds to lightly pat the side closest to him.

 Remus moves, as skittish as the new dragon pups, clutching the blanket tightly to his chest, his pillow gripped in his other hand. Roman swiftly takes the warm spot he’s vacated, wincing in sympathy as he shivers on the cold sheets.

 “Thank you,” he sighs, making a show of getting comfortable before reaching out for him, smacking his lips together in sleep, “now come here.”

 At his quickly stifled questioning noise, he drops the act and opens his arm wide.

 “It’s okay, Re,” he whispers, far too quiet for Logan to hear, “I’m not gonna hurt you, it’s okay.”

 He stares at him a moment longer before he realizes that shit, he’s not going to be able to move on his own right now.

 “Can I come get you, Re?” Roman smiles when he gives him another one of those jerky nods. “Thank you, I’m gonna pull you over to me, okay?”

 He takes him into his arms slowly and carefully, wrapping him up in the sheets until just the very tops of their heads poke out. He relaxes just enough so that he can maneuver him to where he likes, but he’s far from the sleepy pile he expected.

 “Hey,” he whispers, tucking his hair behind his ear, “you want to stay here with me, Re?”

 He blinks sluggishly. Roman bites back a curse and leans down to rub his nose against his.

 “Hey, hey, Re, you just focus on me, okay? Stay with me here—“ he tightens his grip— “right here…I’ve got you.”

 He frowns when he makes a small little noise that sounds like it could be his name.

 “Yeah, Re? You calling for me?”

 He opens his mouth but no sound comes out. He kisses Remus’s forehead.

 “Nonverbal,” he whispers, “or just scared? Or both?”

 A moment passes.

 “Both it is then.” Roman tucks his head under his chin. “Why don’t you go ahead and close your eyes, Re, I’m right here.”

 They stay there, wrapped in the blankets, Remus warm and snug up against Roman’s chest. He plays with his hair, one of his legs slung over his to hold him close, working to lull him out of his frozen state. After a while, Logan stands from the other side of the room and pats Roman’s shoulder.

 “Your turn, Roman.”

 Roman rolls over. “Huh?”

 Logan nods his head toward the bathroom. “Shower.”

 Roman sighs dramatically and presses another kiss to Remus’s forehead, leaving his brother dazed, blinking up at Logan. Logan watches Roman leave before he turns his gaze downwards. Remus tries to pretend the shiver that goes through him at the way Logan softens his gaze is just the cold.

 “Remus,” he calls softly, voice barely louder than a whisper, “Remus, may I join you?”

 A pause.

 “Tap the bed twice if yes, once if no.”

 A pause, then Remus hesitantly reaches out to make two little taps.

 “Thank you.”

 He slides smoothly into the bed, reaching out to carefully slip an arm under his and pull him off of the sweat-soaked sheets—when did that happen?—and into his arms. Remus moves pliantly, tucking his chin into the space left between his chin and the pillow.

 “Hey,” he whispers, gentling his voice as he tucks his head closer to Remus’s, “hey.”

 Logan is warm. Is Logan—Logan said it made sense to be quiet. Logan knows. Logan understands. Logan always understands.

 “What’s the matter,” Logan calls gently, “can I help?”

 Remus swallows. “Monster.”

 “Are you afraid of the monster, Remus?”

 Remus nods. “Black eyes. Shadow. Kill you and Roman and Janus and then go find Patton and Virgil and Thomas. Bad.”

 “The monster isn’t real, Remus,” Logan says softly, running his hand through his hair, “it doesn’t exist.”

 Remus shakes his head. “We’re in the hotel on the island. It’s real. Roman left and the monster will kill him.”

 “Roman is just in the bathroom,” Logan corrects, moving his head to indicate the running water sound, “he’s alright. We’re not in a hotel, we’re in the mansion you two created.”

 “But the LED sign is buzzing outside.”

 “Would you like to look and see?”

 “No!” Remus wraps his arms tightly around Logan’s waist. “We’re not supposed to look out the window, the old man said not to.”

 “The old man isn’t here,” Logan says patiently, “I’m here. I have you. I’ll keep you safe.”

 “He said—he—he’s not real?”

 “No, Remus, he’s not real.” Logan gives him a gentle squeeze. “This is real. This is real, Remus, I’ve got you.”

 “You’re real.”

 “I am.”

 “You said it’s safe to look out the window?”

 “It is.” Logan squeezes again. “Would you like me to show you?”

 Remus nods. Logan leans up and pulls back the curtain, peeking outside. There’s no bright red light from the hotel LED sign. Just soft moonlight.

 “There’s no sign, Remus,” he murmurs, “you’re not in a hotel.”

 Oh.

 “The scar,” he blurts, his hand flying to his chest, “from the stab, what if it’s already got us?”

 “I don’t have a scar,” Logan says, lying back down and taking Remus’s hand, “here…feel.”

 Logan presses his palm to his bare chest, pulling his shirt out of the way so Remus can see. There’s no scar.

 “You don’t have one either…may I?”

 When he presses his palms against Remus’s chest, there’s no scar.

 “We’re…not there?”

 “No, Remus, we’re not there,” Logan says gently, “we’re here, in the mansion, safe, there’s no monster.”

 The water stops. A moment later and Roman emerges, tossing a towel over his shoulder. He sees the two of them in the bed and pouts.

 “You stole my spot!”

 “I had Remus to comfort,” Logan says smoothly, waving him over, “though you are welcome to help.”

 Roman ruffles Remus’s hair. Remus leans into it.

 “Ro, are you real?”

 “Yes, of course, I’m real, Re, what…” Roman trails off and his eyes go wide. “Oh, Re, did we—did I push you into hallucination territory? I’m so sorry, yes, we’re real, we’re here, we’re in our mansion, we’re safe, Re.”

 “Safe?”

 “Yeah, Re,” Roman murmurs, getting in to cuddle his brother properly, “we’re safe.”

 “Real?”

 “This is real.”

 Remus buries his nose in his brother’s real neck and holds him close. Logan stays by his side, stroking his hair and murmuring that Remus is here, they’re real, they’re safe.

 After a moment, Remus takes a deep breath and pulls apart.

 “You know the rules, Ro-Bro.”

 Roman grimaces, his head dropping to rest against Remus’s sternum for a moment before he nods. Logan looks back and forth between the two of them.

 “What are the rules?”

 “When Remus gets pushed into hallucination territory,” Roman says softly, “he sleeps alone.”

 Logan frowns. “But surely it would help to have us reassure you and help ground you?”

 “Wouldn’t help for the intrusive thoughts and hallucinations to include you too.”

 Logan winces. “I suppose not, but—“

 “Lolo we’ve tried,” Remus mumbles, “we—this works. It sucks and I hate it and so does Ro but this is what works.”

 “I trust you,” Logan says, squeezing Remus’s hand, “and I trust you to know what works for you.”

 “We’re just overprotective.”

 “I’ll say.”

 Roman gives him one last hug before standing and pulling Logan to his feet. “You know we’ll come as soon as you call.”

 Remus nods. “I know.”

 The room feels empty when they leave.

 The night passes.

 During the witching hour, he startles awake.

 The sheets are soaked in sweat directly under him. His eyes are wide. His breathing is too controlled.

 The monster is not here but the shadows are.

 Somewhere in this house, he knows, something is here. He can hear the voice in the movement of the curtains, hear the step in the way the floorboard settles. Hands never meet his tender flesh, a mouth never bites his fragile throat, but something is here.

 Step. Step. Step.

 The fear clouds his eyes as it drips into his ears. The light flickers. Something brushes a knuckle up and over his cheek. Something pauses outside his doorway.

 Through the depths of the fear filling his ears, something knocks.

 The chill rips its fingers out of his mouth and smears them over his throat. Something knocks again. There’s something outside. There’s something outside.

 “Sweetie,” he calls as he opens the door, “Sweetie?”

 Janus steps inside.

 “You’re awake,” he says, shutting the door and sitting on the edge of the bed, “it’s quite late.”

 “I know,” Remus says as he sits up, wary, “sorry.”

 Janus hums, reaching out to idly brush his hair off his forehead. The chill curls and lingers around his fingers, the shadows diving to hide in the lea of him, greedily drinking the fear from Remus. Janus goes to pull his hand away only to notice the prickles on Remus’s skin.

 “Are you cold, my dear?” He frowns and lightly dusts his forearm with his fingertips. “You look it.”

 Remus shakes his head. Janus raises an eyebrow, pressing his thumb hard against his arm to reveal a white imprint. It takes long seconds for the chill to let blood color the flesh again.

 “Let’s not lie,” he murmurs, his gaze flicking back up to catch Remus’s, “shall we, sweetie?”

 Janus reaches up to trace the air around the curve of his cheek, one finger lightly tracing his jaw. The electrifying tingle clenches his hands in the sheet. He tilts his head and hums softly.

 “What’s keeping you awake, sweetie?”

 The chill snarls, refusing to let go of his throat.

 “You can speak,” he encourages, lightly knuckling the underside of his chin, “it’s alright.”

 “I’m sorry.” He shakes his head a little.

 “None of that, now, you’ve done nothing wrong.” He closes his hand around his. “To be afraid is nothing to be ashamed of, sweetie, you know that.”

 The shadows move slowly, wary of him, eager to taste his fear. The chill huddles around it, icing it in place, refusing to let him breathe without reaching its fingers into the pit of his throat.

 “Oh, my dear,” Janus murmurs, running his fingers along the side of Remus’s neck, “can I do anything for you?”

 He shakes his head quickly. Too quickly.

 “Sweetie…”

 “You’ll be annoyed.”

 “I’m concerned,” Janus corrects gently, “that’s all.”

 Remus risks a glance at the shadows.

 “And you know, Remus,” he continues, lifting his hand to press a chaste kiss to its back, “taking care of you is never annoying.”

 A different type of fear tingles along his fingers as they brush the curve of his jaw. This one reaches deep, deep along his fingers, up his arm, down to the curve of his shoulder, wriggling in between the cold knots to pulse against him. The shadows bloom in the corners of the room, shying away from the light flickering over his face, his shirt, his hand.

 Through the mouthful of fear, his tongue wets his lips. “You’ll find it stupid.”

 “Never, sweetie.”

 “The dark,” blurts shamefully from his mouth, “I’m afraid of the dark.”

 “The dark, sweetie? Is this about…”

 “I got pushed into hallucination territory earlier.”

 Janus makes a noise of sympathy, murmuring an apology for teasing earlier.

 “I can’t see anything but the shadows,” Remus whispers, squeezing his eyes shut, “and the noises, and how empty it is because I know it’s not empty.”

 “And what helps this go away,” he asks, still cupping his hand, “what makes the shadows leave my sweetie alone?”

 “S-stay? Please, with—with me?” Remus’s breath starts to catch again. “Don’t—don’t let them hurt me.”

 “Oh, sweetie, of course,” Janus murmurs, “of course I’ll stay.”

 The poor thing chokes out a sob. Janus reaches forward to lie him back down when his hand brushes the edge of the sheet. He frowns. Picking the sheet up between two fingers, he winces. He can feel his fingertips rubbing together, it’s barely warm enough.

 Remus’s breath still hasn’t caught when he returns with a thick quilt, spreading it over him to banish the last of the chill.

 “Hush now,” he soothes, smoothing the corners of the quilt, “hush, sweetie, it’s over, you did so well, shh…”

 Janus climbs into bed, pulling the shaking Remus to his chest, his arms wrapping tightly, tightly around the poor thing as he cradles Remus protectively.

 “Come here, my sweet,” he whispers, “come here, now, shh, shh, you’re alright now, sweetie, shh, shh…”

 His cries soften, gentled into mewls against his chest as he warms him against his skin. The poor thing is still clenched tighter than a fist. He croons, taking his wrist in his hand and pulling him flush against him.

 “It’s alright, sweetie, you did so well, it’s gone now, you did it, there you are, here you are, right here, sweetie.”

 The poor thing whines.

 “Oh, sweet one, shh, shh, shh, my dear, you’re alright…” He makes a noise of sympathy when he doesn’t stop. “What’s the matter, sweetie, tell me, say it, come now…”

 He brings his hand up to stroke gently under Remus’s chin.

 “Say it, sweetie, tell me what’s troubling you so, let me help, I’m right here, I’m right here.”

 “The shadows,” he whimpers, “the shadows, I can—I can hear them, they—they’re everywhere—I—they’re looking at me, they’re touching me, I can—I can feel them—I—“

 “I’ve got you, sweetie,” Janus murmurs, pressing a kiss to Remus’s cheek, “I’m right here, nothing can touch you, here—“

 He pulls the blankets up and over their heads, creating a little bubble of intimacy in the dark room.

 “I’m here, sweetie, it’s just me, I won’t hurt you, you know I won’t. Shh, shh, hush now, sweetie, it’s alright.”

 They stay like that for a little longer, Remus sobbing out the rest of the fear as Janus hushes him softly, pulls him close, soothes away the last of the tremors with gentle hands and tender words.

 After a while, Remus pulls away.

 “…thanks, Jan.”

 “I promised,” Janus murmurs, “I promised that I’d do it when you need me to.”

 “I know.” Remus sniffles. “I just…wish you didn’t have to.”

 “Don’t ever feel bad about needing something,” Janus chides softly, chucking him lightly under the chin, “especially not when you really need it.”

 “Already sent Lolo and Ro away for hallucinations, you—“

 “They’re fine, sweetie, a little worried, but they came and told me what was happening.” Janus kisses his forehead again. “They’re not angry, they don’t begrudge you needing things, and they’ll be here for you. They always are.”

 “I know.”

 Exhaustion begins to seep into his eyes. He blinks sluggishly.

 “This is real, right?”

 Janus gives him a squeeze. “It’s real.”

 “Can I sleep now?”

 “Oh, of course, sweetie,” he murmurs, leaning back up to rest his head on the pillow next to Remus, “you go right ahead. I’ll be right here. I’ll keep the shadows away.”

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[artificialqueens]

Bet You Look Good On The Dancefloor, 6 (Branjie) (and background everyone) - Ortega

a/n: hi hello hey. how did this happen? I actually wrote this way quicker than I expected. thank u so much for ur patience during the rewrites fam, hopefully i won’t have to do any more!!!! so so so hope u like the new chapter :)))))

fic summary: Strictly Come Dancing enters its 18th series and its producers, after being goaded by a rival dance show on its inclusivity, commission it to be an all-female cast. Unlike Akeria who’s just here to bone her potential dance partner, dancer Vanessa is ready to act like a professional.

And then TV presenter Brooke Lynn walks into the rehearsal room.

***

11th October 2020

As it turns out, Vanessa meets Monique and Akeria for lunch earlier than she’d expected. Okay, it’s at her flat instead of a cafe and it’s dinner instead of lunch, the three of them all easily agreeing to go back to Vanessa’s after the pro dance rehearsal on Sunday evening. Akeria had wanted to go to The Ivy but Vanessa had decided to make pernil in the slow cooker that morning after a facetime with her Tia had made her particularly homesick, and there was enough for the three of them anyway. Monique had been glad of the fact that they would be safe from any rogue journalists at Vanessa’s, and Vanessa had laughed and objected to the idea that any journalists would be interested in what was going on in their lives anyway.

Then again, that hadn’t appeared to be the case last year when everything kicked off with-

“V!” Akeria shouts over to her and interrupts her from the dreamlike state in which she’s fluffing up the rice. “You got any more wine?”

Vanessa laughs at her friend as she tips the pan over three bowls consecutively. “You’re rehearsin’ tomorrow morning, calm the fuck down.”

“Aw, let a bitch live! I did good last night, I deserve to celebrate.”

Vanessa thinks about how Akeria ended up fourth on the leaderboard with Asia and rolls her eyes. “Yeah, rub it in, girl. It’s fourth place, not Vicks.”

“Stop bein’ salty,” Akeria scolds her as Vanessa carries their dinner over to the huge sofa they’ve chosen to sit on instead of her tiny dining table. “You had a couple bum weeks, so what? This week’ll be the one.”

Vanessa wants to point out that it was really only one bum week and the other she was undermarked for, but she doesn’t. She lets it drop and instead turns her attention to Monique. “Right, bitch, let’s break bread and spill tea. What’s goin’ on?”

As Monique lets out a heavy sigh while she stabs at her food, Akeria claps her hands together and threatens to spill her dinner. “Yes! Thank God you said it, ‘cause I didn’t want to seem rude, but that’s the reason we’re all here, right?”

“God, I beg you both shut up,” Monique groans. “Okay so…me and Monet. You know we did that Waltz, right? And it was very…romantic, very intense.”

Vanessa and Akeria bob their heads like nodding dogs in response. Monique gives another heavy sigh and Vanessa is on the edge of her seat. “Well, it was like…our last full run before we finished up on Thursday. An’ we were both very much like…well, final run, let’s just give it all our energy. And it just got so intense, like, all the eye contact and the moments where we were all like…close, the bit where she picks me up and spins me-”

“Oh my God…did you kiss?” Akeria blurts out excitedly. Monique rubs both her temples with her hands.

“Akeria,” she raises her eyebrows. “We had sex.”

Vanessa lets out a scream. Akeria almost spills the entire bowl of pernil over herself as she reacts, waving her arms about so much Vanessa thinks she might give herself whiplash. “Sorry, sorry, sorry…WHAT?!”

“You cannot tell a single fucking soul on God’s green earth!” Monique groans, and Vanessa still isn’t sure if she’s over the information she’s just been given.

“HOW?!” Vanessa screeches out, ignoring Monique’s plea but promising her internally.

“It was my own damn fault-”

“FAULT?! How is this in any way a negative situation?” Akeria teases her friend with a shit-eating grin on her face.

Monique pouts in self-pity as she carries on with her sentence. “I kissed her. At the very end. I just got so caught up in everything, Jesus, I don’t know.”

“Tell me it was like the musical where there’s all the fuckin’ horn section and everything goin’ off in the background,” Vanessa butts in, remembering when she saw The Bodyguard on the West End last year. Monique knows the exact bit in I Have Nothing she’s talking about, because she nods her head.

“It was exactly that part.”

Vanessa lets out a cry identical to Akeria’s. She’s picturing the scene in her head and it sounds like the most romantic kiss that’s ever happened to anyone outside of a fictional setting. “M’nique, that’s adorable, oh my God.”

“What happened after? Well, she obviously liked it,” Akeria shrugs, and Vanessa splutters a laugh. Monique looks vaguely like a babysitter that has to deal with a pair of five year old twins.

“She just kissed me back before I could even break away out of fuckin’ embarrassment. She was just holding me and kissing me for what seemed like ages…and then when I had to get air I was panicking and apologising and she…oh my God. She asked me if she could take me home.”

Akeria raises her eyebrows. “Damn. I have got flutters.”

“So you went back to hers? OH my God. You’ve been to Monet X Change’s house,” Vanessa gasps, impressed. Akeria gives a snort of disbelief, turns to look at her.

“She’s been inside her fuckin’ pussy, never mind her house!!”

They both howl, and Monique rolls her eyes before apparently admitting to herself that what Akeria had said was funny after all and giggling.

Akeria leans forward with intrigue. “And did you…have a nice time?”

Monique now can’t wipe the smile off her face as she puts both hands to her cheeks, an attempt to cover her blush. “Yes. We both did. It was a very nice time.”

“So what’s the problem?” Akeria asks her, blasé and black and white as ever. Monique gives a sigh of exasperation.

“Because we’ve not…spoken about it, we’ve not addressed it!”

“It didn’t seem awkward last night, you did a great job!” Vanessa frowns, spearing a chunk of pulled pork. Monique lets out a tiny helpless whine.

“Yeah, that’s because…” she begins, then trails off. Vanessa knows what she’s going to say already, but Monique finishes her sentence before she can properly connect the dots. “We did it two more times before the actual dance.”

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ!” Akeria shouts through a mouthful of dinner. “This ain’t fair! How come a God-fearing, good lil’ Christian girl like you can get laid three times in the space of three days an’ I get nothing?”

“Jeez Keeks that’s so far off the mark. Christian? Uh-huh. Good? No way,” Vanessa teases. Monique, for perhaps the twelfth time this evening, looks as if she’s severely regretting telling her friends anything at all, so Vanessa decides to be helpful. “When’d you bang again, then? Thursday night was the first. You stay over?”

“Yeah. We did it again the next morning and then in the studio on Friday.”

“IN the studio!” Akeria screeches. Vanessa wonders if she should apologise to her neighbours the next day. She, herself, has had sex quieter than Akeria’s screeching. “You are nasty as fuck!”

Monique has the good grace to attempt to look embarrassed before a proud smile takes over. “It was Monet’s idea. She told me she couldn’t keep her hands off me.”

“Well she’s nasty too. Y’all are well suited,” Akeria shrugs, and the three of them laugh.

“So why’re you pressed?” Vanessa asks her friend. She draws from her own experience as she follows up. “You in your feelings?”

“Yes. No. I don’t know!” Monique gives an anguished cry, dramatic as ever. “I just want to get to know her a lil’ more. I don’t want her to think I just wanna sleep with her because she’s Monet X Change, y’know? Like sure, I have a crush on her, but it’s not like I ever had sleep-with-my-dream-girl on my bucket list.”

“Maybe on your fuck-it list,” Akeria supplies unhelpfully.

“Why don’t you ask her out?” Vanessa shrugs. It seems so simple when she’s giving it as advice but if anyone had suggested that as a solution to her feelings for Brooke she would’ve laughed them all the way to Oxford Circus.

Monique gives Vanessa a long-suffering stare. “We both know it ain’t that simple, V.”

“Well, why don’t you tell her what you’ve just told us?”

This time Monique pulls a face. “Well, maybe. I don’t know. Monet don’t seem like the type to catch feelings, though.”

“You don’t seem like the type to catch feelings. Shit, you don’t catch feelings,” Akeria reminds her, Vanessa giving a laugh as she remembers every time Monique has had to pry girls off of her at a bar.

“Shut up. To be honest I don’t know what I’ll do, but I’m glad to have vented about it,” Monique shrugs in resignation, takes a sip of her wine. “Anyway Kiki, what’s the story with Miss Asia? Thought you were gonna sweep her off her feet an’ show her your Hitachi or whatever line usually works for you.”

Vanessa snorts as Akeria gives a smirk. “I wish. Nah, we get along great but we’re honestly just better as friends. It’s almost like all the hours spent rehearsing with our bodies pressed up against each other kinda ruined the magic a lil’. She’s great though. Could set her up with you, though, Vanj?”

In any other context, Vanessa would have a smart remark. However, the thought of being set up with someone else when Brooke Lynn seems to fill her every waking thought these days isn’t a desirable one, so she opens her mouth. “Well, uh…I mean, obviously Asia’s cute, but I’m not really…y’know-”

“Oh my God,” Monique cuts in, trying and failing to suppress a laugh. “You’re crushin’ on Brooke Lynn. You are! Oh my God, Kiki, look at that blush.”

Vanessa frantically shakes her head, willing the blood to flow away from her face. “No! No, it ain’t a crush. Shut up.”

“You’ve gone so red. Jeez. I’d hate to see the colour you go when you are in your feelings, then,” Akeria laughs.

“She is so in her feelings! C’mon, deny it, bitch. Try an’ deny it.”

“Jesus Christ will you both shut up!” Vanessa exhales with exasperation, now highly regretting the amount she’d wound Monique up. “Fine! Fine…it’s not a crush, but I just find the girl attractive, an’ it’s nice gettin’ to know her, is all.”

“That’s literally a crush,” Akeria stares incredulously at her. Vanessa rolls her eyes to the ceiling and aquiesces.

“…fine, maybe it’s a crush, god damn.”

The two girls opposite her explode. Vanessa stuffs more pernil and rice into her mouth with a feeling of resignation.

“Don’t tell me you two’ve been bangin’ mid-rehearsals as well?”

Vanessa breathes a laugh. “Stop it. No, just a couple hugs in the corridor after our dances. We went out for lunch together last week.”

Monique gasps. “You went on a date?”

“That’s not a date, Mo, shut up.”

“It is a date! You took a girl you like out for lunch, how’s that not a date?”

“Because she wasn’t aware it was a date. And neither was I! It was honestly the furthest thing from a date. It was a fuckin’…raisin.”

The three girls giggle, and in the conversational lull something occurs to Vanessa. “The only other thing is, uh…well, both weeks we did our dance for the judges, after we finished, she, uh…she kissed me.”

There’s another bomb of screaming from the girls that detonates in Vanessa’s living room. World War Two hasn’t got shit on Akeria and Monique.

“What?!”

Vanessa shrugs. “I mean it ain’t a massive fuckin’ makeout sesh, obviously! It’s just a lil’ cheek kiss, top-of-the-head kiss, that sorta thing. You can see her doin’ it, the camera got it both times.”

(There’s a fan account on Instagram dedicated to her and Brooke’s Strictly journey, and it’s posted the footage of the kiss Brooke gave her last night. Vanessa will not admit to the girls that she has watched it too many times for it to be explained away as normal.)

“So she likes you back,” Akeria states, as if it’s a fact and not something Vanessa’s been wondering about at random intervals throughout the day every day for the past week or so.

“We don’t know that.”

Akeria’s face turns scheming. She’s clearly got an idea. “Well, why don’t you choreograph a big sexy rhumba or something where you gotta grind up on her an’ get all nasty an’ shit? That’ll speed things along.”

Monique points her fork at Akeria in agreement. “Yes! ‘Cuz Jan and Jackie did that in, like, week 1, and they’re already fuckin’.”

Vanessa screws her face up. “Jan and Jackie ain’t sleeping with each other, shut up.”

“Oh my God, girl, I beg you buy a pair of glasses,” Akeria rolls her eyes, causing Monique to let out a laugh.

“Yeah, they absolutely are.”

Vanessa shoves another mouthful of dinner in. She’s hungry, and it doesn’t help when she’s trying to talk and eat. “Well, Strictly curse aside, it’s our Jive week this week, so that’s operation sexy dance out the window for at least another seven days.”

“Ugh. That’s annoyin’,” Akeria consoles her. After that, talk immediately turns to movie week and dances, and the conversation has moved on.

But it’s nice now that she’s admitted her crush on Brooke Lynn to Akeria and Monique. She’s got her girls to vent to when Brooke gives her a smile that comes with an extra added twinkle in her eye that sets Vanessa’s insides on fire, or to squeal to when Brooke brings her a coffee from the cafe they’d visited for brunch last week “just because”. She can’t take her eye off the prize too much though, even in the excitement of movie week. They’re doing their Jive to Runaway Baby from the Madagascar franchise (Brooke insists it’s niche and Vanessa insists it’s not) where they’re dressed as animals breaking out of huge cage props and “running away”. It’s not going to be as iconic as Plastique and Scarlet’s Dirty Dancing-themed Salsa, nor will it be as hot as Crystal and Gigi’s Rhumba (to License to Kill, no less), but it’s theirs, and it’s fun, and it’s hilarious watching Brooke get to grips with the insane amount of kicks needed for a Jive to be a Jive.

“My feet feel like they’re going to fall off,” she groans, lying flat on the floor after a particularly intense Wednesday rehearsal. Vanessa hides a laugh behind her hands, sneakily pulls out her phone to film her.

“What?”

“I said my feet feel like they’re about to fall off,” Brooke repeats louder, for the unknown benefit of the camera.

“You ain’t much of a soldier, are you?” Vanessa scoffs affectionately. Brooke sits up on her elbows, noticing Vanessa’s phone.

“Are you filming this? You’re filming this,” Brooke asks and then confirms without Vanessa even having to say anything. “Well to anyone that follows Vanessa, I’d just like to say that this is human exploitation and you should not be supporting this.”

Vanessa howls with laughter, tries to ignore how good her name sounds in Brooke’s mouth. “She loves me really.”

“I love her really,” Brooke rolls her eyes, and Vanessa’s heart jumps at the words even though they’re part of a joke.

She stops filming, posts the video to her feed and leaves it as they keep practising. When they stop for lunch and they’re sitting scrolling, Vanessa’s eyes widen at the comment Monique has left, her friend taking her stirring to new levels:

moheart: you two are so cute omg branjie 5 ever xxxxx

As Vanessa’s contemplating using the cables that line the floors of Elstree Studios as garotting wire when she sees Monique at the show on Saturday, she taps on the comment’s likes (it’s got 85 so far). Her heart stops when she sees the familiar blue tick of bhytes at the top of the list. Vanessa darts her eyes Brooke’s way as if her face gives anything away, and of course it doesn’t. Brooke’s scrolling casually as if she hadn’t liked a thing, and it manages to mess even more with Vanessa’s head. Vanessa enjoys the feeling though, this experience of having a crush on a cute girl again. She is so used to healing (she’s had to do it for the best part of a year now), and it’s nice to have butterflies in her stomach instead of an endless churning ocean.

Her feelings for Brooke aren’t helped by Cheryl and her ridiculous quiz on It Takes Two on Thursday night after their rehearsal. Okay, Vanessa supposes- every couple has done one, so it’s not exactly as if they’re being singled out. But when they finish their usual interview (how they felt regarding last week’s comments, how rehearsals are going, how they feel about the week ahead) and Cheryl pulls out two sets of glittery pink paddles (one saying me and the other saying her) with an excited grin on her face, Vanessa does a bad job of masking her horror.

“Oh my God. Cheryl, what is this?”

“Welcome to…Mrs and Mrs!” Cheryl announces with a small flourish, and the film crew give a cheer. Brooke snorts beside her, just as dumbfounded. Cheryl continues. “Okay, Brooke and Vanessa, I’m going to ask you both a series of questions and you’ll need to hold up your paddle to show me who you think is the best fit as the answer- you, or your partner. Every time you both give me the same answer, you get a point. For example, if I asked you…who sweats the most in rehearsals?”

Vanessa rushes to hold up the paddle that says her and as soon as she’s done it she cranes her neck to look at the one Brooke’s held up. She squeals when she sees me staring back at her, a blush appearing on Brooke’s face as she giggles.

“I sweat! I’m very sweaty! I never wear grey in rehearsals!” Brooke pouts in anguish, and Vanessa gives a laugh. She leans into her in a show of sympathy, trying to ignore the way her pulse races as she catches the scent of her perfume. It’s not the Flash that she wears at the weekends, but it’s still just as intoxicating.

“Not sure we needed that much detail, love, but you get the idea! You’d get a point, because you both said Brooke,” Cheryl pokes fun at Brooke, before her gaze snaps back to the camera, all charisma and TV-presenter-smile. “Okay, your score to beat is five, that was set by Gigi and Crystal on Monday’s show and none of the other girls have beaten it so far! Ladies- are you ready?”

Vanessa raises her eyebrows, tries not to look at Brooke who she knows will be smiling like an idiot. “As I’ll ever be, I guess.”

“Okay. Let’s play…Mrs and Mrs!” Cheryl announces dramatically, and immediately holds up a set of glittery cards that the questions are written on. “Question one- who’s the most patient?”

Vanessa laughs and she can feel Brooke being set off beside her. She’s held up her, and Vanessa’s held up me.

“She’s so laid-back she’s horizontal!” Brooke laughs, and Vanessa swats her. She melts a little as Brooke’s gaze turns affectionate. “It’s why she’s such a good teacher. I’ve said it before, but I’m really lucky.”

Cheryl moves on before Vanessa can react to the compliment. “Who’s the best dancer?”

Vanessa hears Brooke scoff. Sure enough, Brooke has once again held up the her paddle, and Vanessa has voted for herself too. Brooke laughs as she looks at Vanessa’s paddles. “Of course it’s her! Has any celebrity voted for themself?!”

“Willam and Yvie both did!” Cheryl giggles, and Brooke rolls her eyes so much that her body tilts back with them. “Okay, next question- who is the better cook?”

Vanessa holds up me, and Brooke’s held up her. It definitely shouldn’t make Vanessa feel as good as it does.

“Brooke is like the kinda person who would struggle to keep a cactus alive, never mind her own damn self,” Vanessa laughs, and Brooke laughs along, agreeing rather than being offended.

“And Vanessa should go on Celebrity Masterchef one year. I swear to God.”

Vanessa looks at Brooke and smiles, happy for the compliment. She’s sure she’s not imagining that Brooke leans into her a tiny bit.

“Three points so far ladies, you’re on a roll!” Cheryl comments, impressed. “Who is more of a perfectionist?”

Vanessa fumbles with the paddles in her haste to hold up her. Brooke has indeed also voted for herself.

“She will make, like, one mistake and she’ll make us run the entire thing through until she gets it right,” Vanessa explains, Brooke giggling beside her in embarrassment. “I thought it was meant to be me that worked her hard, not the other way!”

Cheryl laughs from her interviewer’s chair. She reaches the next card and her eyebrows fly up her face. “Ooh, one for your massive egos here- who’s the most attractive?”

Vanessa’s heart gives a little jump and her brain thinks almost a hundred thoughts at once. She could play things off and vote for herself (because ultimately, she’s well aware of the fact she’s cute, she’s got a mirror), but part of her wants to see how Brooke will react to the compliment. Deciding all this in the space of about two seconds, Vanessa holds up the her paddle. To her surprise and poorly-concealed joy, Brooke is also holding up the her paddle. Vanessa’s trying to hide her smile and Brooke’s expression suggests she’s doing the same.

“I mean, I’m not gonna be big-headed,” Vanessa plays it off. Cheryl is looking at the both of them with a little scheming smile on her face.

“Well, nice to see that the first time you drop a point is because you’re both just too busy trying to compliment each other, in’t that sweet!” she grins. Vanessa wishes she had one of Cheryl’s cards to fan the blush away from her face. As Cheryl moves on to her next card, her mouth drops open. “Oh, right, this one’s a good ‘un. Who is most likely to have a crush on someone in the cast?”

Fuck. Vanessa can feel Brooke giving similar amounts of hesitation beside her, and the two of them share an awkward glance and a laugh. Without really knowing what she’s doing, Vanessa slowly holds up the paddle that says me. She’s almost scared to look at Brooke’s, but she leans forward anyway. Staring back at her from the paddle is the exact same word as the one she herself had held up- Brooke has also said me.

Cheryl gives a reaction much as if she’s reporting on breaking world news. “Ooh, now that’s interesting! You’ve both said yourselves. Any reason? Do we actually have any crushes flying around the studio?”

Vanessa holds a tight, awkward grimace on her face, hoping she can avoid the question. She almost feels her soul leave her body when Brooke crosses her legs and sits straight. “You might think that, I couldn’t possibly comment.”

As Cheryl appears to stave off an aneurism, Vanessa cuts in with the best way of diffusing the situation she could manage. “Aw, you know I gotta crush on you, Cheryl, stop pretendin’ like you don’t know!”

Cheryl howls with laughter, turns to the camera and appeals to her wife who’s presumably sitting at home. “Blu, babe, don’t listen to her!”

Vanessa joins in with the laughter, suddenly willing the interview to be over.

“Okay Brooke and Vanessa, at the end of Mrs and Mrs, you have scored…four!”

The production team claps them, and Brooke turns to Vanessa to hi-five her. Vanessa accepts with a laugh. Cheryl shuffles her cards and turns to the camera.

“Well they might not’ve won Mrs and Mrs but they’re still gonna be dancing on Saturday- Brooke and Vanessa, everybody!”

There’s another clap, and their interview is finished. Thank God.

It’s only when they’re walking back outside afterwards after a little bit of small-talk about their plans for the rest of the evening that Brooke quirks a bashful smile at her. “So, uh…you think you’re more likely to get a crush on someone in the cast than me? Does this mean you’ve got one on somebody?”

Vanessa suddenly feels as if she might vomit up her own heart. She plays it off, narrows her eyes at Brooke. “Alright, Cheryl, damn! I thought the interview was over. Jeez.”

Brooke gives a small laugh. They’re walking close, and every time Brooke’s body brushes against hers Vanessa swears she sees sparks flying off them both. “Just asking. I said myself, remember?”

Vanessa already feels ever so slightly giddy, so she takes the risk. She cocks her head at Brooke as she walks. “Alright, since you wanna talk about crushes so much. Who’ve you gotta crush on?”

“I asked first,” Brooke shrugs easily, stopping as they both reach the doors to the exit. Vanessa lets out an exasperated laugh.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ, we are full-grown adult women.”

Brooke splutters a giggle as she leans on the door and opens it, the freezing cold air smacking Vanessa across the face. They both leave the building and Brooke stands still, her face wearing a hopeful expression. The wind is whipping her long blonde hair over her shoulders.

Damn, she looks so beautiful.

“So you’re not telling, then?” Brooke smirks. Vanessa thinks about it. She thinks about what Brooke’s honest to God reaction would be if she actually turned around and said yeah, I’ve got a crush on you. The thought of doing so almost makes her laugh.

“Well I’m not a fifteen year old high schooler, so no. Sorry to disappoint,” Vanessa smirks back at her. Maybe this is flirting. She’s not even mad about it. Thinking again, she cocks her head curiously as she shoves her hands in the pockets of her huge hoodie that she’s pulled over her interview outfit. “You gonna tell me?”

Brooke’s smile is still there, still cheeky. “No.”

“But you’ve got one.”

“I never said that,” Brooke shrugs easily. For a moment they’re both standing biting back smiles at each other, and Vanessa feels as if she’s caught in some form of stalemate. It’s Brooke that breaks it first, because of course it is, and she brushes some hair out of her face as she shrugs at Vanessa again. “Well, have a good night, anyway! See you tomorrow, bright and early.”

“Yeah, you too. Get home safe,” Vanessa says, the two of them sharing the usual friendly wave that comes with their goodbye. In spite of herself, Vanessa watches Brooke turn on her heel and walk in the opposite direction to her. Just as she’s about to start making her own way home, Brooke pauses, turning to look back over her shoulder.

The pair of them share one last bashful smile before they make their way back home and it feels as if Vanessa floats home on a cloud.

Saturday rolls around quickly, and Brooke has managed to transform herself from having feet made of concrete blocks to someone with featherlight ankles, so Vanessa is confident that they’ll score well tonight. She’s not really got scoring or the judges at the front of her mind, though, because movie week is entirely too much fun. It feels as if she’s at Universal studios as she walks through costume and hair and makeup, everyone dressed up in variations of movie characters. The best by far, though, is Jaida and Yvie’s. Any part of Jaida that isn’t clad in a grey leotard and skirt is painted entirely in grey body paint, with her hands in black gloves. Her hair has been expertly twirled into two long “ears” on the top of her head, and makeup has painted a blotted white stripe down the centre of her face. Yvie is wearing an orange and black striped morph suit, on top of which costume have given her a little red and white striped waistcoat with a buckle, a red cape, and, of course, a pair of boots to dance in.

And her face is painted like a cat.

“I’m going to see that in my nightmares this week,” Scarlet pipes up from across the green room, looking every inch the iconic Baby in her pink dress and glittery silver heels.

“More like your dreams,” Yvie winks at her, and Scarlet laughs, presumably to offset the pink blush on her cheeks.

“Yeah Scarlet, don’t you want her pussy?” Willam joins in from where she’s getting her hair swept into a low ponytail. Her costume is nowhere near as extravagant, but it’s classy nonetheless- a fitted tuxedo suit for her stint as a spy as part of her and Phi Phi’s dance to 4 Minutes. Courtney laughs from her position sitting on the dressing table beside her. Even though she and Blair were voted out last week, Courtney’s role as a pro means she’s still part of the show’s group dances. It’s something that Vanessa thinks Willam is particularly grateful for (she’s seen the hand-holding when they think no one is looking). Courtney starts singing Livin’ La Vida Loca under her breath absent-mindedly.

“Hey, listen, at least neither of us are Shrek,” Jaida consoles Yvie, who doesn’t look as if she needs much consoling.

“You guys, Courtney’s right there,” Willam pipes up again, the girls laughing as Courtney swipes at her playfully. Willam flinches in her chair, much to the irritation of the hair stylist.

The costumes aren’t all ridiculous, though. There’s a murmur of admiration when Gigi and Crystal emerge from wardrobe in skin-tight floor-length velvet gowns (one red, one black), each with a huge slit up the side. Akeria whispers something to Vanessa about Crystal stealing her idea of a big sexy rhumba, and Vanessa tries to laugh from her current position in the hairstylist’s chair but the two thick plaits they’re weaving her mane of brown locks into makes it difficult. She can’t help but let out a gasp when Jan and Jackie emerge from their costume fitting, though, and neither can the rest of the girls: Jackie is dressed in black leggings and a red waistcoat and tails, covered in shining gold brocade and black detailing. It’s Jan, though, who takes Vanessa’s breath away. She looks like a muted version of Lily James’ Cinderella in a gorgeous, floaty powder blue dress which hits her calves, little dimantés and tiny butterflies stitched into the light fabric.

“Janet, holy hell! It’s Strictly, this ain’t fashion week!” Jaida cries, sticking her tongue out at the end to let her friend know she’s joking. Jan gives a shy laugh, sweeps her immaculately curled blonde hair over her shoulders.

“Yeah, all you’re missing is a tiara,” Scarlet agrees enthusiastically.

“Hey, I thought we were meant to be showing off our celebrities!” Akeria pipes up with a raised eyebrow. Before Jan can reply, Jackie takes her hand and smiles.

“I’m happy to let this one steal the show for this week. She looks gorgeous, she deserves to be in the spotlight,” she shrugs. Vanessa doesn’t miss the look Jan gives her partner or the way she squeezes Jackie’s hand. She thinks back to what Monique had said at dinner on Sunday. Maybe something is happening between those two after all.

“Vanessa! You’re up please, fitting,” one of the costume girls calls out for her, and Vanessa obediently dashes towards the room in question. Brooke’s been squirrelled away in her own dressing room having to do some prep work for her filming the next morning, so when Vanessa sees her in her own costume, it’s not what she expects. She can’t find the words to describe how Brooke looks.

“Don’t…say…anything,” Brooke warns her, but it’s too late- the laugh is already coming out of Vanessa’s body before she can stop it, and it turns into a howl when Brooke grabs her tail- her stripy, white and black tail- and gives a twirl. She is dressed entirely as a lemur.

It’s not long until Brooke is spluttering a laugh herself. “Don’t tell me this isn’t the hottest you’ve ever seen me look.”

Vanessa’s cheeks hurt from laughing. “I don’t think I can keep my hands off you, boo, I’m gonna be honest.”

“Well luckily you’ll be wearing the exact same thing in about five minutes,” Brooke quips back at her, and Vanessa pouts and groans. She doesn’t really mind though. Mad, extravagant costumes are a staple of Strictly movie week, and she’s just happy she gets to experience it with a partner this year.

Soon enough the show is starting, and Vanessa watches the first dance from the Divinatorium with her hand entwined in Brooke’s. Neither of them mention the contact- it’s apparently just another secret. That and both of their crushes. Willam and Phi Phi are first and it seems as if Willam’s technique is a little better after her somewhat dismal scores in the weeks prior. Monique’s told Vanessa she’s seen Willam getting extra lessons from Courtney during her lunch breaks, so she suspects that’s what is making the difference. It seems to have paid off, and they get a score of twenty five altogether. After they see that dance, they can’t stay to watch Aja and Farrah as they’re on third, so while Farrah lives her Disney princess fantasy waltzing to Someday My Prince Will Come, Vanessa is marking the steps with Brooke backstage.

“This is gonna be a good week. I can feel it,” Brooke smiles at her, and Vanessa believes it. They’ve coped way better with the Jive than they did with the Paso, so she’s eager to show the judges what they can really do. Farrah and Aja get their critiques and their scores (a disappointing 17), and just like that, Brooke and Vanessa’s VT is playing and their massive cages are being rolled out onto the stage. There’s a distance between them in their two separate props, but Vanessa knows that Brooke’s feeling confident and so, in turn, does she.

“Dancing the Jive…Brooke Lynn Hytes and Vanessa Mateo!”

The electric guitar slices through the quiet of the room and with it sends an electric shock through Vanessa’s veins as she starts to dance. Her eyes are focussed on the audience, ever the professional, but she hopes Brooke is coping as well as she’s done in rehearsals. As soon as it comes to the part of the music where they “break down” the door of their cages and land into hold with each other, Vanessa can’t help it when the fake performance smile on her face turns into a real one as she faces Brooke (whose face, like hers, is painted like a lemur, complete with bright yellow eyeshadow). Brooke’s face is concentrating hard, and Vanessa knows she’s nailing all the steps as they reach the section where they figure-eight their ankles then change and do the same with their other foot.

“See I ain’t try’na hurt you, baby, no, no, no, I just wanna work you, baby…”

There’s not a whole lot of the dance spent in hold as it’s essentially a test of their synchronicity, Vanessa doing the rightfootflick, leftfootflick, flick, flick, flick, PIVOT and hoping Brooke’s doing the same beside her. But it’s fast and it’s fun and she knows her choreo is good and fuck it, they’re both dressed as lemurs, so they’ve got a fighting chance of doing a decent job this week. Brooke takes her hand and spins her round all while doing the most complex footwork Vanessa’s taught anyone before, and her face is showing it. Vanessa knows she’ll get pulled up for letting her concentration show, but everything else, technically, has gone really well so far, which is just as well as Laganja is standing up to take in every single inch of the footwork.

“Your poor little heart will end up alone, ‘cause God knows I’m a rolling stone, so you better run, run, runaway, runaway baby…”

On cue, Brooke slides herself down on the floor then jumps up, and Vanessa puts her hand on her shoulder right on the final beat. The audience erupts, the clapping envelops them, and Vanessa can’t help but freak out a little. This is the first dance they’ve done where she really feels they completely nailed every single part of it, and she’s punching the air as Brooke picks her up by her waist, spinning her round and round on the ballroom floor. When she puts her down, Brooke pulls her into another hug, and Vanessa can feel the kiss she plants on the top of her head. It’s strong and insistent and Vanessa wishes it had been pressed to her lips, but she supposes she can’t wish for everything all at once.

Vanessa barely even takes in Michelle’s interview with Brooke, she’s simply too happy. As Michelle asks the judges what they thought, Vanessa hopes and prays their comments will reflect the dance they completed.

And they do.

Vanessa listens to them all in a happy haze- the words “immaculate footwork”, “light and precise”, “turned a corner”, and “breakthrough” all pop like fireworks in her head, and she can’t help but squeeze Brooke’s hand every time the judges give them a new compliment.

“Just one very little thing,” Shangela says at the end of her critiques. “You were concentrating so hard on that, and rightly so because it’s hard! But I’d love to see more of the chemistry you have with Vanessa, because you’ve got about two minutes to tell a story out there, and to see you both connecting with each other would be lovely!”

Vanessa tries to suppress a smile at her comments, and Brooke nods affirmingly at Shangela’s words. The incredible feedback is ringing in her ears so much that she hardly knows what she even says to Divina when they both run up to the Divinatorium after their dance is done, and when it pans to the judges for their scores Vanessa can feel her own hand unbearably sweaty in Brooke’s.

“Will the judges please reveal their scores. Bianca Del Rio.”

Vanessa sees the paddle that she holds up and screams. “Seven!”

She’s so busy squealing and hugging Brooke in her delight that she almost misses the next few scores.

“Kennedy Davenport.”

“Eight!”

Vanessa’s jaw drops so far open she’s momentarily scared she’s dislocated it. This changes everything. This is night and day to the scores they’ve had previously.

“Shangela Wadely.”

“Seven!”

“Laganja Estranja.”

“Eight!”

Vanessa can hear the other couples cheering and clapping for them both and she can feel a bunch of hands patting her on the back, but all she can focus on is Brooke’s heartbeat through her chest. She is euphoric. There’s no feeling like it.

“That’s a score of thirty!” Divina tells them, and when Vanessa pulls away she can see that Brooke is crying happy tears. The sight almost makes her want to start crying too. Divina pulls a sympathetic face. “Brooke, you’re clearly happy!”

“I am! I’ve just said from the start that I don’t want to let Vanessa down, and finally we’ve done really really well!” she sniffs, and Vanessa pouts and squeezes her waist. Thirty. Their score was thirty. Thirty out of forty. They’ve only dropped ten marks and it’s week three.

This is good.

As Divina carries on interviewing them both, Vanessa feels her concentration drift away. She’s remembering Shangela’s comments about chemistry. Next week is their Salsa week. Vanessa remembers her conversation with Akeria, and operation sexy dance, and in that moment she decides to make it her mission for the week to show the judges just how much chemistry she and Brooke have.

[lesbianfreyja]

hey u have an english degree or smth right? do u have any advice abt writing abt ur own life maybe? im applying to colleges and last year i was rejected everywhere so obviously i did it wrong and idk like i have great test scores and teachers said i was a rlly good writer but i just never know how to approach personal essays or whatever like i either come off too emotional or too stoic and just ?? also all the questions r lile "write abt how ur experiences shape who u r" and i have no idea (1/2)

(2/2) how to remove myself or any narrative i have from my trauma like its ingrained into everything i am bc the past however many years have been consumed by it. but i dont want to sound unstable but also like my experience and trauma DID form who i am so like ??? its just so fucking frustrating i never know where to draw the line ig and just 😐. sorry if this is too personal or annoying but if u have literally any feedback on anything thatd be so fucking great id appreciate anytjing

no worries! not sure i can help but i’d like to try. i applied for college, now…six years ago? so i don’t really remember much about it, but i have some general advice

personal essays r weird because it goes against every single “dont use ‘i’ statements and dont talk abt ur opinion” lesson u learn about writing essays in high school lol. the main thing i think u need to maybe do is actually make it…less..personal? i’m sure your essays are good n true but colleges don’t really care about that. i always say “the only thing i learned in high school was how to bullshit” so i’m going to give you some bullshitting advice now

don’t pick a topic that you think answers the question best or is easy to write about. pick a topic that the college wants to hear and tailor it how you need. for example, if the question is “write about how your experiences shaped who you are,” then you shouldn’t ask yourself who you are and how you got there. colleges rlly dont care if you personally went through something or who that turned u into. instead, pick a strong trait that you have, ideally something that you can make sound like it will help you academically: instead of brave, kind, or selfless, instead emphasize that you’re good at following direction, you’re independent, you’re hardworking, or you’re naturally good at picking up new skills. then pick a story that ties into that trait–or that you can make sound like it ties into that trait, even if the two are unrelated.

for example: let’s say i was applying somewhere, and i wanted to emphasize that i am good at making decisions in a crisis. what i’d say instead is something like: I am very good at finding simple solutions to difficult problems in a way that benefits everyone involved. I learned this when trying to navigate a complicated period in my life. When I was 17 I found out I had a half-brother, which was difficult for my family. We found out he was in town for a few days and would be coming to stay with us the next day, which was very sudden and hard for everyone. I proposed x, y, and z solutions. We picked Option Z and now he actually has a great relationship with my mother because of it. I apply the same principle to school when struggling with a difficult problem or a class that I’m not doing well in. When I found out I was failing math three days before the end of the semester, I did X and got an A instead. I try to apply the lessons that I learned in the hard times to everything I do, including school, since it’s the most important goal for me and where I spend most of my time and energy.

that entire story is complete bullshit, but it doesn’t matter. i took 1 thing i wanted to say im good at, picked 1 thing that was true (i have a half brother that i found out about when i was 17) and then made the rest up to fit it together. if you happen to have an actual situation that fits the trait you’re looking for, great! but don’t get too bogged down in the details. and if you’re only applying to one school, do some research and try to make it line up with their interests. if it’s for the common app, keep it super general.

you’re selling yourself to a college, not telling the truth. they just want to know why you’ll make them look better as a school! they don’t care about anything else.

sending love & good luck!

[dashimba]

THE 100 my thoughts of 6.07.

Well, me, finally, calmed down and rewatched the whole episode again.

The first thing is that this episode was splendid! I loved it all from first minute to the last once, basically was glued to the screen all the time.

I enjoyed the idea of space minds, because, firstly, it allows to see character deeper and feel their intention, fears and feelings through simple objects of reality, pictures, things. It also gave us a link to ‘Inception’ movie and pointed to Freudian concept of the unconscious. Besides, it also guides us to the Eric Burn theory that each person contains ‘child’, ‘adult’, ‘parent’ personality.

It was smart to use the rain as a metaphor of Clarke swings moods, chest with the code for her secret memory, also show us her dads video and Jasper glasses inside of it.

Her mind is constructed by series of locations. The reason behind is that Clarke really changed through all of her stages in life. Each one has its own meaning for her, as she grew from a young idealistic teenage girl to a grown woman, complicated and contradictory person. She became not only leader to her people, but also a parent figure. We could equate it to the thing of becoming a real mom to a child, who needs care and protection.

Clarke character this episode, her development was really thought through.

Lets try to analyze main locations.

First, we should compare how Clarkes personalities are connected with each stage of action. Second, we ll try to have a general concept of each mind space.

1.Spaceship

This place is where all Clarke memories lies, her story. I guess its just a hard drive to the whole computer, shortly her brain. There she is represented as ‘the princess on the spaceship’ and also as Wanheda, also as The Clarke ‘Madis mother’ ( Read it that way ‘child’, ‘adult’, ‘parent’) . These three parts of her personality show us the two parts of Clark, the peaceful one, rebelious one, guilty one. It’s her three sides, which are struggling to fight each other to prevail in behavior. She still has her child hopes. She still tries to be rigidity and consistency in her solutions. She now is accepting her responsibility, drowning in a blame for her decisions.

The Clarke on the spaceship is the Clarke, who believes that there is so much more than survival and fighting for life. She appears to be the most vulnerable one. Wanheda has the power of being more dark for the purpose of the survival and life. She is the dark side of Clarke who was formed by conditions of her living. Clarke from season 5 and 6 is Clarke who is trying find a peace for herself as a human, suffering inside from two sides of her world.

The lights and the colors in this mind space are truly melancholic and blue. I feel her depression and longing for sadness through this location. Clarke at the moment does not feel right at all, she is feeling down and she is losing hope.

2. The forest

Its totally the most dark place, therefore dark lights and night forest as the symbol of loss and deprivation. Its kinda blurry here too. The ruined throne of Lexa is her pain, which hides under the layers of self-control. There she loses her hope after fake memories of Bellamy. He is still that person, who has that strength and hope for her which she seeks. He is her last pillar of energy to survive and live, as the leader of her people. Because of him shes still trying.

‘You still have hope?”

‘Were still breathing’

But after the fake memories, she doesnt see any benefit to live as someone who can look for her people. Shes already dead, why bother?

3. The fighting pits and the Mountain weather.

Sharp and bright light. The fighting pits is another symbol of her guilt, though Bellamy forgave her, she coudnt do it herself. She didnt win her war with her demons. The BloodRena represent rage, anger for herself, crawled inside Clark. The Maya is the sigh of her moral system confused, her inner guilt for what she thought she would never have done as a child on Spacekru ship.

4. The home

The place where Clark feels most safe, focused and calm. Warm,

light colors and drawings not from her memories, bur from her feelings. The most significant drawings are Ebby, Madi and Bellamy. Its her family now. There she meets Monthy, there she finds her dad alive.

Its her heart in this home.

Her last hope is to live for Madi, as Monty reminds her. To be a mother to a child she raised. I mean, obviously, Madi is the last reason, why Monty as her mind protection appears. Monty was her friend, who truly figured that sometimes good and evil are twisted, and having burden of blood hands doesnt mean ure a bad person, but still means that its the best way to live and find peace.

There she is a ‘parent’.

Anyway, this Clark destination is to forgive herself and to start create something new through the ashes, to find something beside Madi, her people and Bellamy to live for. To heal and become more balanced.

Whats about Josephine?

Her line is connected to Clarke one, as their minds are tangled.

Let me say one thing, she is really hell of sociopath. I do not hate her as a character, but I do see the motivation of her behavior.

The thing is that in Josephine minds her father is the really important figure, affecting her the most through all stages of life. His voice is everywhere, in the library(her voice from childhood memories, calling him. reading letters). Through the door. He is shouting ‘The Sanctum is mine’. This pair could be compared to Odin and Hela relationship. Same spirit there.

Her brain structure is the library, completely rationalized and sorted. She doesnt feel mercy or regret, pity or happiness, pain or pleasure. She doesnt understand human emotions, as she is not able to comprehend them fully. By all sort, she is freaking genius(knows various language, deep in biology and science, gifted for art) but by the cost of her mental disorder. In her memories she adored herself so much that she could stop drawing her first body. She doesnt know what moral is. Its a blurry concept for her.

Her moral is to provide herself the immortality on all costs. She doesnt find it right or wrong to murder, to betray, to tortue. She doesnt care about anything but about herself. Not life of a newborn baby, her friends lover, her father could prevent her from achieving the goal. Its truly frighting and dreadful. She shouldn't be in the lead at all.

Read this to insure yourself that Jo is in fact sociapath https://www.mcafee.cc/Bin/sb.html.

And she knows that. Her hidden thing is the awareness on that. She doesnt accept it at all. She is savoring it, not trying to control or to restrict herself. Its caused by the trauma of guy who kills himself , but still not completely.

I also liked the referral to the predator behavior( dialogue of J and R, when they are haunting Clark), as the main concept of Lightbourne views.Besides, they regard science as the God for them, it means the complete refusal to moral question and ethics.

Josephin: I studied all species, insects are almost fascinated me the most,...ruthless. People theyre so messy, theyre too emotional.

Josephin: You, nulls, are more than worthless, you all don have positive value. You are less the useless. U delude the bloodlines...

So on.

From Clarks side theres a lot of talking whats right or what wrong, even with ALLIE. What defines God.

Its not a coincidence that she tells Monty about the God question, overshadowing Lightbournes things. About connection of moral and real life.

‘I dont want to decide for everyone, Just for myself’

Its a good thrust that through her mind projection of Monty she still thinks:

The end does not justify the means

Murder is still murder, whatever it brings after, peace or war.

She doesnt devalues the human life. Thats why Clarke is the best leader from the start. Her moral compass is always there to remind her that leadership should be based on clean hands, true intentions to help and grow, not in dark night, but in the light of a new day.

Clark also says: ‘Theres no joy without pain’.

For me, it sums up all of her personality. Meaning - to have something good, first sacrifice. To earn happiness you should feel the real anguish. But even after the pain, you are capable of finding hope and peace. Thats why she agrees to go with Monty and fight J.

That what differs Clark from Lightbourne.

She is still in a process of defining what decisions shed like to make, what person she should be. She senses and appreciates.

Lightbournes are in stagnation there.

The last few senconds

Bellamy is just the ‘heart’ all over the place. He is back to his natural statue.

That means head and the heart in work, which, I remind you, always the best.

Thanks for reading.

All the love :)