#stop opening the tab beyond checking my notifications and scrolling through like. a few friend's tweets.

[miodiodavinci]

anyway ugghh i need to learn to stay off of twitter now that the algorithm has picked up on exactly what it needs to show me to make me righteously upset (← gets wrapped up in long discourse responses to shitty unethical AI works and ongoing vtuber drama that are a little vindicating at first but make you feel like vile, hate-ridden garbage after a half hour of scrolling)

[incarnateirony]

So now I’m gonna be that butch bitch.

Socially relevant wide topics is not a specific sub blog of anyone that happens to hold an opinion in that topic. I barely even touch my home tab because of how insufferable this fandom dialogue tends to be beyond scrolling through entire vats of whatever the hell is going on and addressing it in general address in a wide host of conversational points. Which literally anyone can see with how few blogs I engage and how rare a burst of gif reblogging even is. Did you tag me directly and land in my notification stream, no, then I probably have no idea what you’re saying. This isn’t hard.

This, on the other hand, is a petty gay sub blog.

Please note there’s a very distinct difference between these and LGBT cinema discussion someone may or may not take offense to.

I’ll give you a hint: my sub blogs are short, pointed, sassy, generally include a random media reference like a video game video or this little piece of art, and are doused in sarcasm. They’re the fandom version of “ok, boomer”. Sure, I do sub blog. We all do. Let’s be real dears. But nah fam. That ain’t it.

Anyone that insists on projecting themselves into a set of shoes left on the floor is free to do so, but they need to recognize that’s what they’re doing with general discussion. No, picking a fight with me on a different social media platform and then pretending any other conversation is targeting you isn’t how it works. I can’t stop anyone from recoiling to the content. And I’ve been EXTREMELY forward on where the door is if they want to continue using regressive angles or taking personal offense to general conversation points. This isn’t new.

Jesus fucking christ.

And for the love of fuck stop treating me like I’m some big name fan. I don’t do conventions, events, actors, I don’t give a shit about shipping culture, I don’t do FB groups, I’m literally not *here* for any of that bullshit. Respectively having a few thousand followers isn’t *shit* on a platform where the big blogs range 8-14,000. I am not. Here. For this clout. Chasing. Bullshit. And I don’t want it anywhere near me. And I didn’t ask to be any kind of leader, or want to be any kind of leader, and magically, this BNF leader that I am had a grand total of 0 fucking people coming at anybody. Just a few telling them to stop escalating their own internalized issues against someone else. If you think that’s unreasonable, I don’t know what to fucking tell you.

If you’re here for fandom drama or personal validation, please, leave me the *fuck* alone. I am not here to be the mother to 2000 grown assed people. Thankfully many of you are reasonable, but for whatever 1% is out there getting *mad* that I’m not conforming, I swear to god, leave me the FUCK ALONE.

I have never been a proper agent of fandom. I have never obligated myself to washes of fandom yelling regardless of if it’s “my lane” or “my friend.” And no, I’m not due to “self reflect” just because *somebody else chose to think I was talking about them.* That’s not how that WORKS. I can’t self-reflect to magically engineer intentions or thoughts somebody else put in their head and projected my way, holy shit balls man.

You wanna know why people talk bullshit about Destiel fandom? This narcissistic manipulative bullshit, this false extremization of talking points, all of it. And no, not every Destiel fan does that before someone warps that. But there’s a reason so many people are hiding from this shit in tag commentary, and it’s THIS. You can deadass say “While I agree we should aspire for better representation we should also make sure to not trample on the work of what people ARE fighting for right now” and SOME FUCKER, SOME WHERE, will turn that into “You’re telling us to settle and stop fighting! You’re a homophobe!” even though it says the opposite JUST ABOVE WHATEVER THEY’RE EXAGGERATING, and yet SOMEONE, SOMEWHERE, will be like “You know what, this resonates with my current feelings, now I’m going to make it dictate this real person’s reality even though that is clearly NOT WHAT THEY’RE FUCKING SAYING.”

I have. ALWAYS. Said. I am not here. For fandom bullshit. This 0 to 100, all or nothing, black or white, Fall In With The Hoard Or Perish By Us Lying And Footstomping And Demanding People Unfollow The Person Who Won’t Fite Me Nao *bullshit.* No, taking a strong stance or having a strong opinion contrary to the Borg is not hArAsSmEnt. What’s fucking harassment is intentionally stalking down people’s materials to pick fights across multiple SM platforms and trying to make it all about YOU while they’re minding their bullshit on their own walls. CHECK YOURSELVES. What’s ~~bullying~~ is trying to incite hive mind attacks. What’s abuse is demanding anyone else tolerate it, much less warping “them or me” choices just because someone *disagrees* with you. 

Nobody sent anybody at the person in question. In fact, they sent themselves, and continued to double down that it had to all be about them, then directed friends to engage and continue it afterwards. The only person that outted them was them, and they fucking @’ed me, so I don’t know what the *fuck* you expected from me. Even if I WAS sub blogging them -- which 1000% not -- not a soul on the fucking planet would have known them until they threw themselves out into the field because IT WAS ADDRESSING MULTIPLE FANDOM TOPICS; and even when they threw themselves out, nobody actually came at them. They just told them to stop. ... And then after that when their friends were told I won’t judge them? ESCALATION! YOU MUST COME ATTACK ME! uh, no. That’s not how this works. Maybe that’s how you’re all used to this working, but that’s not how this works. I can very well say “Kay, whatever you wanna do with yourself” and leave it there.

I don’t ask anybody to come to my wall. I don’t ask you to come pick fights with me. I don’t ask you to troll across multiple media platforms looking for an opening just to get mad when I’m already too exhausted to deal with you. 

I can tell you the one thing you probably shouldn’t do though, and that’s follow a fandom commentary opinion blog and head nod and bobble to it and go “YEAH, YEAH!!” until your own general behavior crops up into the discussion and then turn into a bunch of rabid bobcats and start saying you had a problem with that blog the whOEL tiEM. So, what, you... agreed when it suited you while having a problem with my methods? They’re only a problem if they apply to someone you prefer? 

Get out. I literally do not have the time and energy for this bullshit. I am literally in the middle of my second legal battle in a year while dealing with crippling pain, I can BARELY make my own content BEYOND this conversation, I haven’t even been able to edit for like two weeks,  my game and my projects are all indefinitely paused, I fucking PROMISE YOU that randomopinion dot tumblr dot com is not the highlight of what I’m just out here to inspire shit for, holy shit. Like sure fam, I can barely walk into dollar general to buy a pizza for dinner right now, my house is in limbo, I’m trying to work side jobs while my hip is literally falling apart and my spine is disconnecting from my ribs intermitantly, I might puncture a lung with the effort of sitting down, but you know what I want to do? Stick it to some random FUCKER on tumblr (who can’t keep themselves off of my content while pretending I’m coming at them.) 

If you’d like, with the magic Clap On Clap Off Gay TV invention, if we can also come up with “disability trade” for a feature to live one day in the life of someone, I would gladly invite you to deal with the pain of your anatomy trying to casually rearrange itself. I mean, if we’re all about shoving ourselves into random shoes, go ahead and try mine on. See if you have the patience for this kind of fandom bullshit, let alone to methodically do whatever the fuck a segment of fandom decided I did as some sort of machiavellian plan to sub blog someone I didn’t know fucking existed beyond some other random name account trolling into the middle of an existing conversation on a whole other social media platform.

Is it absolute bullshit to kick into the middle of a conversation, not catch up on the conversation, assume the worst of a conversation because you heard something applicable to you, and to start yelling at people having a conversation that had NOTHING TO DO WITH YOU? Yes, yes it fucking is. No, I don’t care you think I’m holding some grudge from when you farted wrong in the room earlier today, your self consciousness on that front is yours, not mine, fart the fuck away.

Is it even more bullshit to say you aren’t obligated to catch up to the conversation you entered with this angle to and pretend it’s everybody else’s fault? Sure the fuck is. Is it bullshit to @ someone and make literally famously socially abusive demands and then pretend anyone came at *you* after you superman jumped one, two, and five assumptions that it was ABOUT YOU? To just double down because someone’s your *friend* even when the barest application of logic would show they walked in yelling at someone unrelated to them before they set up their drama with a whole ass bass boosting entertainment boom box for everybody? Why yes, yes that is a huge pile of bull shit. I’m not sure why this is a hard thing to grok.

So sure, now I’m sub blogging you. Because somewhere, in the midst of me blogging on every platform about people’s application of bad faith arguments, you decided to bad faithedly attach some sort of fucking motivation to my posts that made it all about *you*. The irony is fucking mind blowing.

I’m so. Done. With this shit.

[quarterfromcanon]

You and Me, Always Between the Lines

Heather & Valencia - Femslash February - Day 18 - Right and Wrong [1,828 words]

Valencia opened a new message but hesitated over the keyboard. She chewed on her lower lip while she began to type.

Hey, girlfriend.

Highlight text. Delete.

Hey, girl.

Nine backspaces.

Hola, chica.

Valencia sighed and closed her eyes. She exited the app and returned to the home screen only to reopen messages immediately.

So, today’s the day. I’ve decided. I’m going Facebook official. 

Her thumb tapped send. She gripped the case with white knuckles. Within a minute, a reply appeared.

Whoa. Big step. How’re you feeling?

Good but also freaked out. I’m overthinking.

Have you talked to Beth about it? Is she with you?

Not right now. Multiple meetings until like seven o’clock tonight. She’s been sending me supportive texts in between.

Maybe you could postpone until she gets back?

I thought about it, but the time of day is kind of important to me. It’s a whole thing to try to explain here. I don’t know. This is probably silly. I’m just not sure if I can wait that much longer by myself.

A pause.

Do you want company?

She gulped past the sudden lump in her throat and gave the honest answer.

Sort of. I don’t want to ask for too much, though. I feel guilty. You’ve had to help me so many times as it is.

Valencia wiped a fingertip across her cheekbones. She watched three dots fade in and out of existence.

You’re my best friend. Best friends are supposed to come through when you need them.

The breath she’d been holding left her in a rush. Fresh tears spilled down her face.

I’ve been trying with all I’ve got to keep it together, but I guess reality’s hitting me pretty hard right now. If you’re positive you don’t mind... I do need you.

What time?

12:30, if you can make it?

I’ll be there.

___

“The door’s open!” Valencia responded to the familiar knock.

Heather turned the handle and poked her head into view. “Hey.”

“Hi,” Valencia greeted in a tremulous exhale. Her entire body was tense. The rims of her eyes were a vivid pink from crying. She flipped the phone between both palms on autopilot, faster with each passing second.

Heather entered the apartment and crossed the room. She held Valencia’s hands in hers until her friend relaxed. “How long have you been sitting here?”

“Since eight, if you don’t count the floor pacing and bathroom breaks, so... four-and-a-half hours?” 

Heather settled on the couch beside Valencia. She waited a moment to consider her advice before she voiced it aloud.

“V, listen, it’s like we toasted on your balcony that time, y’know? You make your own rules now. Whatever pressure you feel... This thing people have about online transparency...” Heather shook her head. She took a deep breath and met Valencia’s gaze. “It’s no one else’s call but yours.” 

Valencia nodded, although the worry did not fully leave her features. Heather searched for the right way to articulate what she wanted Valencia to understand.

“If this is part of what you need to feel comfortable in your skin, it’s cool. If you don’t want everyone on your friend list to know your business, that’s okay, too. You’ve already had so many super intimidating conversations. Your sisters, your dad, your mom -- oh my god, your mom -- like, that alone is such a huge deal. You got through all that in less than a year. You’re really brave.”

Valencia smiled feebly, but then sobs overtook her. Heather spotted a box of tissues. She got up to pull a few free and brought them back. 

“Thank you.” Valencia blotted her cheeks with the Kleenex. “I know I’m making myself sound like a damn liar, but I really do want to do this today.”

“I get it.” Heather shrugged. “People don’t make this easy. Even with ones who seem like they’ll be chill, you don’t actually know until you tell them. There’s always a moment of uncertainty. Also this many people at once? That’s a lot of variables.”

“Yeah.” Valencia pocketed the crumpled tissues.

“So what’s the ‘whole thing’ about the time?”

Valencia rested her chin on a throw pillow. “1 p.m. to 4 p.m. is the prime posting time for Facebook.” She grimaced and searched the reaction that flickered across Heather’s face. “It’s not to maximize likes or get more attention, I swear. It’s just that --”

“You’re doing the Band-Aid approach,” Heather realized. “Quick as possible, all at once. If you post during hours with less dashboard traffic, that means even more waiting for stragglers who might have something to say. You’ll keep checking for notifications over and over. Doing this now means dealing with most of it in one cluster.”

“Exactly.” Valencia noticed the clock at the corner of her open laptop. “Oh God. It’s five ’til one.”

She restored the minimized tab to confront the rectangular button on the page. 

“Already set up,” she said, more to herself than to Heather. “Just a command away.”

She hovered the mouse over it, slid the cursor aside, and returned to the spot -- back and forth ad nauseam while Heather waited patiently beside her. Valencia withdrew her fingers from the touchpad like it scalded her. She rubbed the knees of her leggings and shook her head. “I can’t do it. I can’t press it. Here, you click it.” 

She tried to push the laptop to Heather, but Heather slid it back to her.

“It’s gotta be you,” Heather insisted softly.

Valencia tapped once and then flopped sideways to hide behind Heather. “I did it,” she acknowledged in disbelief. “It’s out there for everyone.”

Valencia Perez is in a relationship with Elizabeth Brighton.

“Yep.” Heather twisted her arm to pat Valencia’s shoulder. “You stuck to your plan.”

Valencia clamped her eyelids shut. “Now comes the more difficult part: the wait for the first response.” She texted Beth with trembling fingers to tell her that the news was publicly shared. Then Valencia sat up, but she still couldn’t bring herself to peek at the top blue bar. “Is there a bubble with a number?” she asked while inspecting the ceiling. “Did someone say something?”

Heather looked up from her own cell phone. “Oh, hey, you’ve got one.”

Valencia verified the statement in a split-second. Her complexion went ashen. She touched the single digit with the cursor and gave the inbox a moment to load.

Heather Davis (1)

“You sent me a message?” 

Heather could see Valencia in her periphery, turned toward her. She continued to sift through sites without actually reading anything and did not raise her head. “Yeah.”

“What does it say?”

Heather couldn’t suppress a faint laugh. “If I tell it to you out loud, that kinda defeats the purpose.”

Valencia returned her focus to the laptop. Heather glanced at Valencia’s face but then flicked to the screen instead.

I usually save this for major breakthroughs because it already sounds mushy and fake, and I don’t want it to lose all meaning, but today’s a milestone for you so it totally counts. I’m really proud of you, Valencia. I know everything about coming out has been so fucking hard, but you kicked ass. Congratulations. Digital high five.

Valencia scrolled up once more so she could scan the entire thing again. Heather decided to examine the plants on the balcony, but then Valencia’s arms were around her. “I don’t deserve you.”

Heather returned the embrace with some reticence. “I’ve gotta agree to disagree on that one.”

Valencia laughed and tightened the hug. Heather’s arms shifted to fully enfold her. A new red update appeared. She relinquished the hold and gestured to the laptop. “The bell’s got a number now, too.”

Valencia picked up the computer. She set it on her lap, clicked the notification, and beamed.

“What is it?” Heather prompted.

“‘Elizabeth Brighton commented on your post,’” Valencia read. “She says, ‘I’m a lucky lady.’”

Heather mirrored Valencia’s pleased expression. It didn’t quite reach her eyes.

___

Later, when Heather was back in her car, a couple of text messages sprang to life on her phone.

ROOMIE

Valencia’s dating a woman? HER VERY FIRST WOMAN? Since when??? 

ROOMIE

I’ve never even met Beth. Have I met Beth? Have you?

Heather sighed and retreated behind her eyelids. She folded her arms against the steering wheel to lean on them. 

Incessant buzzing announced more messages.

ROOMIE

Do you think I was, like, her awakening?

ROOMIE

Holy crap. Who knew I had so much untapped bisexual influence? I PROMISE TO ONLY USE MY POWERS FOR GOOD. [wizard emoticon] [rainbow emoticon]

Heather peered at the ramblings without sitting upright. She bumped her forehead against her wrists in annoyance.

ROOMIE

Hey, where are you, by the way? If you’re already out and about, can you buy us some more eggs and coffee grounds? We’re running low. And by “low,” I mean I finished off both this morning. Don’t kill me! xoxo

Heather opened the conversation. She addressed only the most recent question.

I can get them on the way home. See you at the house.

She tossed her phone onto the passenger seat and left Valencia’s parking lot in the direction of the grocery store. While stuck at the first stoplight, Heather’s eyes began to bother her. A dull ache surrounded them. She blinked in an effort to calm it.

By the second intersection, her vision started to blur. “What the hell?” Heather rubbed furiously with the heels of her hands. “I’m trying to drive here.”

Her lungs burned as she rounded the bend.

“Can everything just chill? It’s kinda important for me to be in control of my faculties while I’m steering a three thousand pound vehicle.”

When the market was in sight, she heard an alert vibration.

“Rebecca Bunch, I swear...,” Heather mumbled. She parked and snatched up the cell. The contact name wasn’t ROOMIE this time.

V

Twelve comments, all positive. I can’t believe it. Thank you again for everything.

Heather’s eyesight swam until the letters were beyond recognition. She felt the warm moisture overflow and tumble down her cheek. A similar trail of water traced along her nose.

“Oh my god, stop.” Heather swiped upward with a curved finger and touched the irritated ducts. “What is going on right now? Get back in there.”

It was no use. The more she fought the urge, the more tears emerged to join the first two. Heather puffed out an exhale. She rolled her eyes skyward. “Okay. This is happening.”

She sat miserably still and permitted the unshakable emotion to rise. A faint whimper escaped the back of her throat, but she gulped it into silence. Minutes ticked by on her dashboard. “Ugh, get it together, dude.”

Heather dabbed the evidence away with her sleeves, picked up her phone, and texted back to Valencia.

See? The worst is over. I’m really happy for you.

She meant it.

Truly.

But it was some time before Heather regained her composure.

[juniperhillpatient]

Be Careful who you make friends with on Tumblr ~Creepypasta~

Listen to it with creepy sound effects and images included HERE 

*****************************************************************************************************

  The last time I used Tumblr I was a sophomore in high school and Tumblr was my escape from the world in which I was a socially anxious, overweight girl with freckles and oversized glasses. On the blue screen with a username of my choice I could be as loud and crass as I wanted. I could talk about horror movies, metal music, and serial killers with those who shared my passion for the bizarre and terrible, without the sideways glances that said: “What a creep she is, she wastes her life daydreaming of death.”  

I deleted the app and never looked back when I began dating a cheerleader and was accepted into a semi cool group of friends early in eleventh grade.

        Four years of college later I was living in Columbus working at the Center for Science and Industry. The catch was that the job was in the gift shop, as a cashier. My relationships with my coworkers didn’t extend beyond a friendly nod or wave, except perhaps Sarah who worked in public outreach and sometimes at lunch with me.

        I knew what everyone back home in Cincinnati would say if they knew where I had ended up. I could hear the echo of my relatives and high school friends saying “Olivia dear we did warn you a degree in liberal arts wouldn’t get you very far.”

Stubborn as always, I had added on my Facebook page that I worked at Cosi, but not which department. It was a vague, half lie. I hoped people pictured me living in a nice apartment with lots of friends having wine tastings and talking about how posh we all were for working at such a prestigious institute.

        I lived in a studio apartment. The electric and water were turned off on a regular basis. I’d be damned if anyone at home ever found out the truth of my pathetic existence.  

If I had to see my high school girlfriend Karen’s coy look of faux sympathy as she listened to me talk about my electric being shut off, I would hope for her fancy stereo to fall in the bath with her as she sat sipping her expensive wine. If I had to witness the slow shaking of my parent’s heads, I might just go insane and rip their lungs out.  

        It was as I lay on my tiny mattress without a frame listening to the scurrying of rats in the walls that I opened my lap top and typed in Tumblr.Com. I wanted back into the community of weirdos on the blue website often referred to by its tired users as a hellsite because of the millions of bots, viruses, and uneducated opinions that populated the forums.

        I recreated my blog with the same username I had used in high school, liv-firefly. After following several blogs, I settled to scrolling my dash and reblogging facts about Ted Bundy and images of my favorite scream queens from eighties slashers. I was excited when the notification popped up that someone had followed me.

My heart sank when I checked the blog’s username. It was just a bunch of random numbers and letters. A bot, most likely, I thought. Still, half hopeful that I might make a friend, I clicked on their blog.

        As the site redirected, I jumped a little when sound began blasting. I hurried to turn down my volume, cringing as I remembered that some people set up their themes to play music when you clicked their blog. Well, I thought, at least that’s a good indication they aren’t a bot.

        The music itself sounded nothing like anything I had ever heard before. It wasn’t a genre I could place. In fact, it was more like an uncomfortable buzzing sound. I supposed it was probably some weird indie shit the user was into. Once my volume was down to only one notch, I began scrolling the blog.

        The user had a title, but no bio. The title read “Leviticus 17:7.” I opened a new tab and copy and pasted their title into the search bar. My heart jumped as the screen of my computer went completely black. Words appeared in blood red across the screen, and the strange buzzing from the blog began playing at full volume.

“And they shall no more offer their sacrifices unto devils, after whom they have gone a whoring. This shall be a statute forever unto them throughout their generations.”

As fast as the screen had turned black, it lit up and switched to a normal screen, websites focused on bible verses showing up as search results in one tab and the blog I was looking at in the other. The sound was back to a low volume.

I clicked back over to the blog, thinking that this must be some sort of set up they had with their blog so when you copy and pasted their title, the screen went black and the bible verse popped up. I smirked.

“Clever,” I muttered aloud. Their blog was mostly black and white pictures of cemeteries, strange symbols, and images of dead girls.

        There was an image of a girl hanging from a noose, a girl dead in an alley, a girl’s body left behind in a forest to rot. I reblogged a few of the unsettling images. It was sort of odd that I didn’t recognize any of the girls from movies, and the user didn’t use tags to identify them. I had seen more gore flicks than I could count, so it seemed logical I would recognize at least a few. Still, I didn’t think much of it. Maybe the user was into indie movies which not many people had seen.

        I fell asleep with the blog open and when I woke up the next morning the odd, buzzing music was still playing, soft and low. I shut my lap top, but the buzzing didn’t stop. Annoyed, I headed to the kitchen to start some coffee, rubbing my eyes. Maybe the sound was stuck in my head from having it play all night.         I sipped my coffee and the sound didn’t go away. Irritated, I went to the bathroom and grabbed two aspirin which I swallowed with a glass of water before hurrying to get dressed and leave for work. On the drive to work I played my radio loud, but it didn’t drown out the buzzing in my head.

        It was like my mind was filled with hornets, hornets that couldn’t be still. I went through my day being as polite to customers as I could despite my pounding head.

        “But they honored this coupon last time,” insisted an old woman with a creaking voice, holding up a crumpled coupon from five years ago which she wanted to use to buy a pack of gun that was only a dollar seventy-five to begin with.

        “Yes ma’am,” I said. “That would be because last time you hadn’t used it before. Unfortunately, you can’t use the same coupon twice.” I was working to keep my voice steady all while I fantasized about wrapping my fingers around her ugly, wrinkled, neck. Her gray eyes were filled with the kind of rage only a baby boomer whose coupon couldn’t be honored was capable of.

        “I would like to speak to your manager,” she snarled. I sighed.

        “Ma’am any supervisor I send you to will tell you the same thing.”

        “This is ridiculous!” she trilled. “I’ve been coming here for twenty-five years!” Here’s hoping you don’t live another twenty-five, I thought.

        “Again, I apologize for any misunderstanding,” I said in my most calm customer service voice. “Other people are waiting in line, so I’m going to have to ask that you either purchase something or leave.”         Snarling and grunting, the old woman limped away, leaning against a hooked cane. I entertained the satisfying image of her stumbling and tripping onto her cane so that the hooked end was slammed down her throat and crashed into her skull. She left the store still mumbling curses to herself.

        When I got home to my apartment I made myself some ramen noodles and poured myself a cheap glass of wine. So, I thought, this is what I’ve come to. Headaches, crappy dinners, and hours of scrolling Tumblr.

        I lay down in bed and opened Tumblr. The buzzing in my head hadn’t stopped so I felt silly for returning to the site that had caused it. Still, I was hopeful that I might make some friends to make my pathetic life a little less lonely.

        I glanced at my follow count and was a little disheartened to see that I still had only one follower. I looked at my notifications and was surprised to see that I had a message. It was from my solitary follower, the blog with a username made up of random numbers and letters.

        I clicked the message. They had sent me a post. I clicked the post and it took me to their blog. I froze.

        The post was an image of my face. I was laying on my side staring at the camera. My heartbeat accelerated as I stared at the image, realizing that it had been taken by the webcam on my lap top.

        I jumped when my phone buzzed, slamming my laptop. Picking my phone up, I saw that the caller ID read “Mom.” I groaned before swiping my finger across the screen to answer. In the moment between speaking and swiping across the phone, I realized that the room was silent. The buzzing was gone.

        “Hello?” I said.

        “Hi Olivia,” she said in her best ‘not mad, just disappointed’ mom voice.         “Hi mom,” I said.  

        “Olivia dear, I called Cosi and asked about you.”

        “Did you?” I grumbled.

        “Sweetheart, why didn’t you tell us you worked in the gift shop?” I cursed in my mind. I could just see her shaking her head.

        “I don’t know, Mom,” I said.  

        I wondered how she found out, but answered my own question before wondering for long. She could be quite convincing when she used her sweetest mom voice. It was a soft, worried tone which was only ever heard by people she wanted something from and never by me.

        After hanging up with her I felt the tears coming. I punched the wall, causing my fist to ache. I flopped down on my bed and let the anguish of the past couple months out in a sob. My shitty apartment, my shitty job, the angry customers, my mom’s disappointment, my creepy Tumblr stalker, it was all crashing down on me at once.

        I cried myself to sleep and when I woke up my phone was buzzing. I glanced down to see that it was Karen. I stared at the vibrating phone for several seconds before answering. Karen hadn’t called me in years. Our parents were good friends so it was impossible to avoid each other altogether after our messy high school breakup, but calling each other on the phone to chat?

I glanced at the red numbers on my alarm clock. It was three in the morning. She wasn’t calling to chat.

        I swiped my finger across the phone. “Hello?” I asked, groggy.

        “Liv?” Karen’s voice broke. I sat up straight, suddenly wide awake.

        “Karen, what’s wrong?” I asked.

        “Liv, I thought I should be the one to tell you,” she said. “Last night there was a break in at your parents’ place.”

        “A break in?” I asked, panicking. “What happened? Are they okay?”

        “Liv…” she trailed off, her voice heavy with tears.

        “Karen tell me what happened!” I yelled into the phone, my heart pounding.

        “Liv, they’re gone. I’m so sorry.”

        “No,” I said. “What do you mean they’re gone? They can’t be. What happened?”

        “You don’t need to know the details sweetie,” she said, her voice filled with the rich girl snobbery and grating pity she had always aired so well.    

        “Karen tell me what the hell happened to my parents!” I said.  

        “Liv…It’s horrible. Someone ripped their lungs out. The police aren’t releasing details yet, but I’m the one who…” she began to cry softly, and I hated her. I hated her for being allowed to cry, for feeling sorry for herself, for telling me this horrible news. It wasn’t logical, but I needed somewhere to direct the fury and horror surging through my blood. “Liv, I found them. It was so horrible.” I didn’t know what to say. I couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. This had to be a dream, some horrible nightmare. “The police will probably call you in a few hours,” Karen said. “I just wanted you to hear it from a familiar voice first.” She paused. “Liv sweetie, do you want to talk?”

        “No,” I managed through thick lungs. “I just…I need to process this.”

        “Okay,” Karen said. “I’ll call you tonight.” She hung up the phone and I was left sitting there with the phone with no one on the other end against my ear, staring into the shadows of my dark apartment.

        The next night after talking to the police and concerned relatives on the phone all day I lay back in bed staring at the ceiling. Their lungs had been ripped out. That’s all I could keep thinking. That was the very thing I had wished upon them in my private moment of annoyance. I tried to shake away the horrible feeling that this was somehow my fault, chanting phrases like ‘survivor’s guilt’ and ‘shock’ to myself but I couldn’t shake the awful clenching feeling in the pit of my stomach.

        I opened Tumblr to scroll and the first image I came across was of a blonde girl dead in her bathtub, her skin raw and bloody. It was a post from the creepy user who had sent me the picture of myself. Not wanting to see anymore death or gore for the night, I closed the lap top.

        After calling off work for bereavement I made the two-hour commute home. During the drive, I kept imagining that I heard that awful buzzing from my creepy Tumblr stalker’s blog. When I finally arrived in town I decided to stop by Karen’s house.

        I regretted my immediate feelings of anger towards her. After all, she had been trying to be kind by calling me before the police did. Besides, I could only imagine how horrible it must have been for her to find them like that.

        Pulling into Karen’s driveway, I felt sick imagining the scene she must have walked in on. How must it look when someone’s lung were ripped out? Who could do such a thing?

        I made my way to the front door and knocked. No answer. I knocked again. Still no answer. I knocked louder. Nothing.

        I turned the knob and gave the door a small push. It opened and I walked into Karen’s hallway. I felt a familiar flicker of resentment towards the expensive paintings hanging on her walls, the fancy woodwork of her stairs, the smell of flowers from outside rather than rat shit and Frebreze like my apartment.

        “Karen?” I called. No answer. I made my way up the stairs. “Karen, are you home?” I called.

        As I reached the top of the stairs I heard running water coming from the bathroom. So, she was running herself a bath, as she so often did. I smiled a little, remembering what her shampoo commercial hair looked like against her bare shoulders, and what her soft, perfect skin had looked like naked. There was a reason I’d fallen for her in high school. Watching her prancing around with the cheerleading squad, I had not been sure if I wanted to have her, or be her. Maybe both.

        “Karen?” I called, knocking on the bathroom door. There was nothing. No answer. I felt my heartbeat racing. Was something wrong? I began pounding on the door.

        When I still didn’t get an answer, I turned the knob. It wasn’t locked. I took a deep breath, and pushed the door opened.

        It took a moment for me to realize that the sound piercing the air was my own, anguished scream. I fell to my knees, my mouth wide but no sound escaping anymore. The water was running.

        In the bathtub, lay Karen. Her perfect skin was raw and bloody, ripped form her body to reveal muscle and bone. Her stereo was in the tub with her, still plugged into the wall. I stumbled backwards, the rational part of my brain realizing that if I stepped into the flooded bathroom I was liable to meet the same fate as Karen.

        Sobbing, I fell backwards into my hands. Her pink lips were open just a little and her wide blue eyes were bloodshot and stared emptily up at the ceiling. Bile rose in my throat tasting of sickness.

        Somehow, in my shock and horror I realized what I had to do. I pulled out my phone and dialed nine-one-one. I explained to the operator what I had walked in on, and gave Karen’s address through my sobs. She stayed on the phone with me as she sent dispatch over. There wasn’t much to say, but she did her best to keep me calm.  

        When the paramedics arrived, they wrapped a blanket around me even though I wasn’t cold and walked me outside. I was hyperventilating, unable to breath. I didn’t say it, but all I could think was that this was the second time a horrible wish I’d made in a moment of anger had come true. What was happening to me? Was I doing this? If so, how was I doing this?

        A burly officer in his fifties was kind enough to drop me off at my hotel. I wished I could stay at my childhood home instead, but it was of course part of a police investigation. I checked in at the front desk and took the elevator up to my room.

        Once in my room, I collapsed into the bed feeling sick with horror and guilt. I jumped when my phone began vibrating in the bed beside me. I picked it up and saw that an unknown number wanted to facetime. I had no desire to be on camera or speak to anyone, so I threw the phone across the room.

        It hit the wall with a crash, and the screen broke. I didn’t care. It was the least of my worries. As soon as it stopped ringing, it started again. I climbed out of bed and walked across the room to pick it up. It was an unknown number again, requesting to facetime.

        I swiped my finger across, planning to tell whoever it was that I couldn’t talk right now.

        When I saw the image on the other end my heart dropped into my stomach. It was the old lady from the gift shop whose coupon wouldn’t work. She was being videotaped from the side as she walked across her kitchen, leaning against her hooked cane.

        With a surge of horror, I remembered the dark fantasy I had entertained when I watched her leaving the store. I knew what was going to happen next, and some part of me knew there was nothing I could do about it.

        “Look out!” I screamed. Nothing. The old woman didn’t even look up. “Please,” I whispered as a sob welled in my throat. “Please don’t hurt her, I didn’t mean it. I didn’t mean it. I didn’t mean it.” I repeated the words as if whoever was on the other end videotaping the old woman would care, as if they had compassion.

        The old woman slipped. I screamed as she fell forward, the cane twisting in her hand. The hooked end slammed into her mouth and blood poured from her wrinkled lips as she fell forward. The cane crashed through the back of her head and I heard the crack of her skull. Red and pink ooze formed around the black cane staining her greying hair.

        The screen went black. I stared at it, my hands shaking uncontrollably. I shook the phone to no avail. I threw it at the wall and it fell to the ground with a dull thud.

        “No!” I screamed into the empty hotel room. “This isn’t fair,” I sobbed. “This isn’t what I wanted. I didn’t mean it!”

        As I fell to the ground, shaking, an awful realization hit me. This wasn’t going to end. This would continue happening. Whatever force was doing this would not give up.

        “Then take me,” I whispered, wondering if I was going insane or speaking to some unspeakable evil which could hear me no matter how softly I spoke. Perhaps it could even hear my thoughts. “Don’t take anyone else,” I said. “Take me. Tear me apart. Claw me to bits. Rip my heart out!” I let out a shaky laugh that was more of a sob. “I don’t want anyone else to get hurt. It ends with me.”

        A soft buzzing sound filled the room.

[singingunderthecurtain]

Together For Real (ChanyeolxYOUxKris) Mini Series 5 — FINAL

Mini Masterlist

Picture not mine, found everything on Google

Author: @julietsoddeye AU: Canon/EXO Universe Genre: Angst | Fluff Pairing: Chanyeol x Reader x Kris Trigger Warning: Distrust, Feeling of Betrayal, basically some angsty stuff. Word Count: 5,341

Plot: You, an EXO manager, developed a dangerous relationship with Kris and one day he suddenly left EXO and it left you devastated. For some reason, you found yourself being in a relationship again with one of the boys. And it’s Park Chanyeol.You set boundaries with him, but he shamelessly breaks all the rules making you want to run away.

January, 2017

It’s one of those spur of the moment kind of thing and you suddenly found yourself walking in the arrival area of Vancouver International Airport. Your old best friend from childhood found you on social media and she contacted you immediately. You found out that she and your sister were neighbors in Vancouver and that’s how she got ahold of you. She somehow convinced you to fly out to Canada to attend her wedding and weirdly enough everything fell into place. Your boss allowed you a week off from work and Chanyeol was busy filming his new drama, so you knew you won’t be seeing him for a week maybe even more.

As you were about to exit the building, a bunch of girls about 10 or more was crowding over someone sitting on a random bench. You stopped on your tracks to fish for your phone that was blasting your ringtone. You looked at the screen and it’s your friend calling. She said that she will be arriving soon to pick you up. You decided to sit on a random bench, near the little commotion that was happening in front of you and wait right there for her. You looked up from your phone curiously and your eyes meet someone you weren’t expecting to see.

You sat there, motionless with a detached expression on your face. Your heart started to beat really fast and loud, so loud you can practically hear it routing from your ears. Your skin prickle with goosebumps when he half smiled your way before returning his gaze to the girls who were lining up in front of him. He was all smiles as he signs random papers and notebooks for them. The security team is all around him but keeps a safe distance since the girls were being respectful.

You’re suddenly jolted alive from your trance when your friend poked you on your arm and her face blocks the occurrence you were watching.

“Hey, you weren’t answering my call, so I just entered the airport to find you!” She said and you look up to see her brows furrowed in agitation.

“Sorry, I was distracted.” You replied to her and she relaxes her face and smiled. She gave you a hug before she turns her back to look at what your eyes were transfixed on.

“Do you know that person; he seems like a celebrity of some kind?” She asks.

“N-no.” You lied. You stood up from your seat and he turns his attention back to you when he saw in his peripherals that you were standing up. You ignored him and you start to pull both your luggage and your friend to exit the airport.

“Oh my God, he looked right at you.” Your friend whispered loudly.

“Ah really? Where’s the car?” You try to change the subject immediately. She just pointed at a car in the waiting area where her fiancé was waiting at, waving for the both of you. She dropped the subject and just let herself be dragged by you.

When you arrived at the hotel, you asked if they want to have an early dinner. But they told you that you should rest for tonight since you look pretty tired from your ten-hour flight, which was the truth, they told you that they will be seeing you tomorrow when the both of them and the rest of the family will check in at the same hotel for the wedding. You obliged and they left you to rest after a little bit of catching up.

You tried sleeping but your mind just keeps repeating what happened at the airport. No matter what you do, he just keeps popping up your head, constantly reminding you of the past. You considered calling Chanyeol back home, but he doesn’t even know where you are right now. You promised him that you will never leave without letting him know. You did anyway again this time, but you know he will be busy enough to even notice your absence. You’ve done it once before, you sneakily slipped out of the country once without him knowing. And you have a perfectly good reason for going to Canada; it was your friend’s wedding.

You looked at your phone and it's only 9 PM meaning its already 1 AM back at home. Chanyeol’s probably still in the studio practicing, or maybe even filming. You were thankful that he wasn’t calling or texting you right now because you wouldn’t know if you should lie or not. You decided to just go down to the restaurant of the hotel. You wore the heels you brought with you to this trip for the wedding since the hotel was a little fancier and heels looked appropriate for the place.

When you got near the open door of the restaurant, the Hostess who was standing stoic and poised, gave you a sincere smile while clutching a menu on her chest.

“Good evening. Please follow me.” She ushered, pointing at the door, motioning for you to enter the restaurant.

“Good evening... Thank you.” You answered as you tail her move.

“Would you like a table or be seated at the bar?” She asked while occasionally looking at you as she walks you in. The place was really cozy and ambient. It was kind of dimly lit, making the place look romantic and dreamy perfect for a couple's date night. There were only about seven or so people in there right since it’s the weekdays in the middle of winter making the place really quiet with the jazzy music the only source of a noise. The bar area was empty and you feel like drinking so you can get a little buzzed and fall fast asleep.

“By the bar, please.” You smiled at her as you answer and she smiles back and proceeded to walk you to where the bar is. A waiter saw that you were being ushered to where he stood and pulled up a stool for you to sit on. You thanked the gentleman with a polite smile and sat on the chair that he pulls up for you.

The Hostess gently set the menu in front of you and left you to go back to her station outside of the restaurant. The waiter was glued next to you as he waits for you to browse through the menu. Since nothing looked appetizing to you right now, you settled for baked oysters and a glass of Muscadet.

The wine was given to you immediately (as per your request) while you wait for your oyster to come. You sip your wine and already you feel the warmth of it coating your body. Your empty stomach churns when the alcohol mixed in with your gastric acid. The soft music in the restaurant was making you relax and a satisfied smile danced along your lips.

Your phone vibrated and you see the screen with an unknown Canadian number calling you. You wondered for a little bit before answering the call. But it ended almost immediately when you finally decided to pick up. You shrugged your shoulders half-heartedly and continue sipping your wine. You got bored after a little bit and decided to take pictures of the bar and post it on your Instagram with the caption “Oyster and Wine kind of night ^^”

As you were scrolling through your SNS, your phone vibrated again indicating a text message. You saw on the notification tab that it was from the same unknown Canadian number. The text was in English.

 Unknown: So it’s still your number? (seen 9:32)

You: Who is this?

 Two minutes passes by and the baked oysters finally came, you set your phone aside and started eating. An hour and three glasses of wine later, you were definitely feeling buzzed and sleep finally found your eyes. You came back to your room and immediately fell asleep when you crashed onto your bed.

You wake up the next morning feeling a lot better than you did last night. The wine helped you fight off your jet lag, you were still not one hundred percent yourself yet, but you’re feeling fine. No head or body ache, which you usually get when you travel to Vancouver when you visit your family.

 ______

  If you Google search “Winter Wedding”, everything you see there is exactly what your friend’s wedding looks like. The theme is a good mix of Pinterest-esque and Hipster vibes but nothing too obnoxious. The gazebo where the couple read their vows were adorned with lace and white lights that twinkle beautifully under the purple, pink and blue late afternoon of the early evening sky. Everywhere around the garden were tastefully embellished with similar lights and lace with a touch of Snowdrop Flowers.

As the bride walked down the aisle, you looked at her groom with his tear stained face and it made you think about Chanyeol, the gentle giant with the stupidly adorable face who for the past couple of years smiled and shed tears just for you only. Maybe it was the wedding feels or the guilt building up over the years, but you miss him all of a sudden.

You suddenly miss his hot breath blowing on your face as he tells you that you're beautiful. You miss his lips worshipping every inch of your body as he remove pieces of clothing off of you and you softly mumble his name with the pleasure he’s gracing you with. And you suddenly miss him whispering sweet nothings into your ears when he was done making love to you.

“Yah! Answer your phone!” You sister loudly whisper to your ears; interrupting your thoughts.

“I— what…” You cast your eye over to your clutch bag on the table and sure enough, you can hear your phone vibrating loudly inside of it.

You took your phone out of the clutch and the same number from a few days ago was calling you again. You excused yourself to your sister and she nods her head once and focused her gaze back in front once where the family of the bride and groom were giving out their speeches one by one. You slowly crept your way beyond the garden of the hotel, to a more quiet part to answer the call.

“Hello.” You answer in English since it’s a Canadian number. There was a long pause before the person on the other line replies. But you know they were there because you can hear them breathing on the receiver.

“Hi…” He finally answered. You already know who it was even though you haven’t heard his voice in nearly three years.

“Who—who is this?” You still ask just to verify.

“It’s me, Yifan.”

Confirmed.

“I couldn’t say hi to you at the airport.” He spoke again before you can even react. You covered your phone’s receiver to let out a long sigh before responding.

“It’s fine, I—I understand.” You answered with a half-assed smile as if he can see you.

“Where are you right now?” His voice low and almost inaudible when he speaks English.

“I’m currently in Gastown, attending a friend’s wedding.” You answered in a monotone.

“Can I see you?” The desirous tone in his voice made your heart skip a beat and a weird bolt of electricity you haven’t felt for him in years suddenly run up and down your spine, your skin prickles with goosebumps.

You gave him the address of your hotel and your room number, you did it. After all these years, you are still weak for him as much as you were three years ago. He told you he will be there in less than twenty minutes. So you tell your sister you suddenly felt ill, blaming your fake jet lag. You tell her you’ll rest for a bit in your room and will be back as soon as you can. She said that it’s okay if you didn’t come back and will just have to explain to your friend what happened. You thanked her and almost tripped your way to the elevator going back to your hotel room.

You get there with plenty more minutes to spare for you to be able to clean up a little bit. The bed and bathroom were, thankfully, cleaned by housekeeping and only have to keep away the random clothes sprawled around your room. Just as you were finishing up, there was a knock on the door. Your body shoots up from being hunch from picking up clothes, looking at the full-size mirror to smoothen the nonexistent crinkles on your taupe dress that hugs every curve of your body very well.

You steadily, but nervously walk your way to the door. Breathing in and out deeply before opening it wide.

  ______

  It’s been almost two weeks since you’ve been back to Seoul and the last time Chanyeol contacted you was last week when he squeezed in a sneaky phone call on his last day of filming. He was all lovey-dovey while he whispers his ‘I love yous’ and ‘I miss yous’ on the phone.  It was never weird not getting phone calls from him for days, but it’s impossible for him not to text you, not even a single word. He usually will even send a selca to show you where he is or what he is doing. He never ignores you, ever.

When you call him, he never answers and lets it drop to his voicemail.

 Voicemail 1:

“Hey. How are you? I miss you. I have bought Maple stuff for you and the boys. Call me when you can. Bye.”

 Voicemail 2:

“Hey, I see you finally read all my messages. Let me know what’s up with you. Call me or at least text me back.”

 Voicemail 3:

“Yah Park Chanyeol. What’s happening? Are you that busy? Are you still alive? Let me know.”

 Voicemail 4:

“Seriously Chanyeol, I’ve been calling for four days straight now. At least send me a one word text letting me know if you’re still breathing.”

 Voicemail 5:

“This is the fifth day I’m calling you. What’s happening? Are finally done with me? At least be a man and let me know.”

 You knew Chanyeol didn’t get angry just because you went to Vancouver for a week without him knowing firsthand. He knew you went there for a wedding, you told him the last time you talked and he even said he wanted Maple Syrup straight from Canada, which you have to lie about not getting so he’ll be surprised once he gets home to you. Your patience finally wore thin, you took matters into your own hands and called Jae. You’ve been worrying for the past few days and you try to steady your breathing before you pressed call on Jae’s number.

“Hello…” Jae answers immediately after 2 rings.

“Hey Jae!” You greeted with a calm voice.

“How are you? How was Vancouver?” Jae asks. You can hear the uncertainty in her voice.

“Jae I’m gonna be honest. I called because of Chanyeol…” You started.

“Yeah about that, he asked me to get all his stuff from your apartment.” Jae interrupted but was careful with her words.

“What?! WHY?” You almost screamed on the phone.

“I—I don’t know either. He didn’t tell me why.” You know Jae was telling the truth and you can tell she’s pouting as she answers you.

“Tell him I won’t allow you to. He has to come get his stuff on his own.” You said.

And before Jae can even respond, you rashly ended the call and turn off your phone so none of them can call you back.

______

As you were about to fall asleep, vigorous knocking on your door woke you up. You know only Chanyeol knocks on your door that way. You locked the deadbolt of the screen door so he can’t just enter. You rub your eyes so that you can wake up completely and shout out that you were coming. The moment you opened the door, you see the outline of Chanyeol’s frame, the small door light was blaring from above him so you can’t see his face clearly. You also see Jae near the top of the stairs, doing signs with her hands telling you that she will go down to her aunt’s house to give the two of you some privacy.

As you turn the bolt unlock, Chanyeol recklessly pulls the screen door open making the nail of your index finger to get caught and broke just where the skin ends. It kind of stung you a little bit, but you pretended not to get hurt. As he pushes you slightly aside so he can enter, you looked at your finger and sure enough, it was bleeding a tiny bit. You immediately put your finger in your mouth and sucked the blood off to hide it. Once you’re sure the bleeding stopped, you stomped your way to where Chanyeol is in front of the closet and dresser drawers you shared with him.

He’s pulling all his clothes out of your closet with vexation in his action, you cross your arms over your chest, waiting for an explanation from him. Chanyeol looks at you once with obvious annoyance in his eyes and continues shoving his clothes into a big duffel bag scoffing as he did so. You’ve never seen him this mad before and you know you did something that really offended him this time. Your hard expression softens and your once crossed arms fell limply on your sides.

“Chanyeol…” You whisper softly. He didn’t answer and just continue shoving clothes into his bag. “Chanyeol tell me what’s wrong?” The pleading in your voice made him look at you. It sounded new to him. You never begged before, It was always him supplicating to you.

“You are what’s wrong!” He shouted, finally giving you an answer other than silence and dismissal.

“What did I do?” You ask, your face full of confusion.

“You went to Vancouver, that’s what you did!” Chanyeol said as he hit the door of the dresser with his fist. His anger scared you slightly and you know it’s been building up for days now.

“I only attended my friend’s wedding; I told you I went there! I even bought all those Maple products just for you and the boys!” You reiterated while pointing at the mountain of Maple candies and other stuff on the dining table.

“I don’t need your Maple shit, okay!” Chanyeol shouted again, his eyes burning with rage and tears were starting to form in the corner of his eyes. You were taken aback because this is the first time Chanyeol cursed directly at you, he never curses unless he was fucking you or he accidentally stubs his toe on something.

“Why are you so angry, Chanyeol? What did I do wrong?” Your eyes are starting to sting from the tears building up. Chanyeol’s eyebrows furrowed because of your question. He plucked his phone from the inside of his sweater pockets and clicked on it a few times.

He threw his phone in your general direction, hitting you on your thigh and it dropped on the floor in between your feet screen up. You read the title of the article “Kris Wu seen in a hotel in Canada with an unknown girl”. Your whole body convulses as your knees drops on the floor. You grab his phone with shaky hands to read the article.

Kris Wu, ex member of EXO, was photographed entering a hotel room in Vancouver, BC and exiting an hour later. After a few minutes, an unknown woman exits the room as well and was seen attending a wedding in the same hotel.

You didn’t even finish reading the poorly written article and just scrolled through grainy pictures of Kris entering and exiting your hotel room. There were pictures of you, but your face were blurred and unclear as you exit and went back to the wedding. Even though the pictures weren’t clear, you knew Kris’ fans still saw your face. And it’s only a matter of time before they know who you are. You clicked the next article and it has all your pictures and SNS information in it. You skipped on to the comments section of the article to see what people are talking about.

 +++ Oh wow, she’s actually really pretty. kekeke

 +++ OMO wasn’t she Chanyeol’s manager?

 +++ Ugh I hate her already, stealing my oppa from me!

 +++ Kris’ girlfriend is Korean?

 +++ Isn’t she an EXO manager?

 +++ Yeah she was! But she quit now!

 +++ She works at a small advertising company. She’s a normal office worker now.

 +++ Maybe she quit because Kris left SM kekeke

 +++ Can’t believe Chinese fans actually follows Kris in Canada kekeke

 “I recognize the dress and those shoes you were wearing in the pictures! I bought them for you, for God’s sake!” Chanyeol slumps on the floor, wiping the fallen tears carelessly with his sleeves.

“This isn’t true, Chanyeol!" You paused. "Well, it’s true. But nothing hap—“ You explain to him but your words were cut off abruptly when he stood up from the floor as he hastily pulls on his duffle bag full of his belongings.

“I’ll tell Jae Noona to pick up the rest of my clothes next time. Don’t contact me anymore.” Chanyeol said as he grabs his phone forcefully away from your hands.

You tried to run after him while you’re still kneeling but he was too fast in his tracks and before you can even stand up properly he was already out the door. Defeated, you just crawl up to your bed, heart still aching from the episode that happened. You didn’t even bother turning off the lights or locking your doors. You just lay in bed and cried yourself to sleep.

______

“How are you?” Kris broke the ice with a smile. You smiled back at him before answering.

“Never been better.” You answer him simply, the smile on your face not faltering one bit. The two of you were awkwardly seated face to face on the small dining set in your hotel room.

“That’s good to hear,” Kris mutters. “You look really good.” He added subtly before he fell into silence again.

“Thank you.” Was all you could respond to his small compliment.

“By the way congrats on your latest song, I heard it did great when it was released.” You said before the air turns awkward again.

“Thanks. I wrote that song thinking about you.” Kris said so casually like it’s a part of a normal conversation. You were almost taken aback, but you don’t let your face show a single emotion.

If you’re being completely honest with yourself, you know you’re still hurt when he left without any notice. He was the sole reason why you keep disregarding Chanyeol’s love for you. But now being with each other’s presence, you know that you don’t want to be confined to the past anymore. You don’t want to be imprisoned by Kris and you want to let yourself free from his ghost to finally give Chanyeol what he deserves, your undivided love. It was fate that you saw Kris at the airport so that you can finally have the closure you were always longing for.

With your silence, Kris stood up from his seat and he got down on one knee in front of you. He took your hands in his and you struggle to shake him off but his grip was tough. Kris looked up and his eyes bore into yours.

“I know it’s been years already but I wanted to say I’m really sorry for leaving without saying anything…” Kris started, his voice shaking with emotions. “I can’t keep a serious relationship with anyone because I know deep inside, you’re the only woman I trust with my heart. I’m sorry that I was such an asshole before, please forgive me.” Kris’ grip on your hands eased and his arms wrap around your torso. He buries his face in your lap as he keeps crying out his apologies.

“It’s always been you, I can never love anyone buy you. Please forgive me, I’m so sorry I hurt you, I know I did. Let me make it up to you, please.” Kris begs, your heart swells and it reminded you how Chanyeol keeps begging for your love all these years.

“I forgive you Yifan it’s okay. Please stand up, you don’t need to do this.” You stroke his hair gingerly and he looks up to stare at your eyes.

“I forgive you, but I can’t be with you anymore.” The glint of hope in his eyes was suddenly washed away with tears and his face fell dark.

“W—why?” Kris’ lips quiver as he spoke the question to you.

“I don’t want to keep hurting Chanyeol anymore. He was there for me when you left. He loved me even though he knows my heart still belongs to you. He was patient with me all these years, Yifan. Thank you though, for seeing me today really thank you. Because this made me realize that I’m in love with Chanyeol.” Your love for Chanyeol finally came out and this time you know it’s for real.

“I—I understand. Thank you for setting the both of us free. And I’m sorry.” Kris sniffed the snot build up in his nostril and loosens his grip on your stomach.

“I’m sorry too. I’m sorry for Chanyeol because he didn’t deserve how I treated him for three years. And I’m sorry that the guilt was eating you up. I know you only want freedom from the company, but I didn’t know I was also holding you back.” You cup both Kris’ cheeks and wiped the tears away from his face.

“You holding us back were all on me. It’s my entire fault. Please don’t blame yourself.” Kris smiled as he places his warms palms over your hands on his cheeks.

“Thank you Yifan.” You lean over and gave his lips a quick kiss and he closes his eyes as if he’s savoring the moment, savoring you for the last time.

______

It’s already almost 2 AM and you just got done with your laundry. You mentally curse yourself as you hang your blankets on the metal rack, the clothes, and beddings you needed to wash have built up for the last three weeks now. You were overloaded with paper works at your job and by the time you get home you just couldn’t do anything but cry because you miss Chanyeol so bad. Just when you finally realize you're in love with him, ready to give your heart fully, he realizes you’re nothing but shit thinking you cheated on him with Kris. You wanted to explain yourself, but he already blocked your number.

You tried not to think about him, though he is literally everywhere. From advertisements, television shows, Magazine covers and the internet. Even when you close your eyes he was there lingering in your dreams. You can’t escape Park Chanyeol. You fall asleep every night wishing he’ll be by your side, waking up every morning crying over him in your sleep. This was karma finally punishing you for hurting the one person who loves you unconditionally, the only person who gave his heart to you without second thoughts.

“Why are you out here in the cold with skimpy clothing!” Your thoughts were interrupted, startled by the whiny complaint from Chanyeol. His heavy arms wrapped tightly around you from behind. Is this a dream?

“What? Chanyeol, what are you doing here?” You push his arms off of you, twirling around to see his disheveled appearance. His legs were wobbly and sluggish. His hair unkempt and you can smell the alcohol on his breath.

“You…” Chanyeol attempted to reach out for your face, but his legs lurched and almost falling hard on the floor if not for you catching him in your arms.

“Chanyeol you’re so drunk, how did you even get here?” You sling his arm around your shoulder and proceeded to take him inside.

“I took a taxi!” Chanyeol shrieks and giggles in a drunken stupor.

“Where is Jae, why isn’t she with you?” You ask but he didn’t answer. He just pushes the door open and pulls you straight inside. The both of you collapsed on the bed, your back resting on the soft surface. Chanyeol looks at you with his tenderly half-lidded eyes, you weren’t sure if his eyes were red because of intoxication or if he has been crying.

“Why did you cheat on me? Do you still love Kris Hyung, huh? Answer me!” Chanyeol slurs his words, but you can hear his words clearly.

“I didn’t cheat on you Chanyeol, I love you I will never do that to you. Please just sleep for now. You’re so drunk. We can talk about this in the morning, okay?” You coo, turning him around and he didn’t fight it, sleep was already taking over him.

The next morning, you wake up before Chanyeol did. You slowly slip off his grip and he stirs a bit but didn’t rouse. You then quickly grab a glass of water and the bottle of aspirin you keep on your vitamin cupboard, setting it down on the bedside table and you left to go to your kitchen. As you were in the middle of making breakfast, you heard him moaning and cursing under his breath. The bottle of aspirin rattles indicating that he’s taking a pill from it.

“Good morning!” You look behind you and smiled at Chanyeol when you heard his feet shuffling. You set down the platter of pancake on the table and grabbed the bottle of maple syrup from your kitchen counter. Chanyeol grunts as he looks at the bottle of Maple Syrup as if it reminded him of something that makes him irritated.

“Did you really mean what you said last night?” Was the first thing Chanyeol said when he sat down on the chair of the mini dining set.

“What did I say last night?” You ask as you sat right across from him, memorizing his beautiful face just in case he leaves and never came back again.

“That you love me?” Chanyeol finally looks straight into your eyes, his face nervously anticipating your answer. You smiled at him and reach your hand to hold him, he stiffens when he felt your skin touch his.

“I love you. I’m in love with you Park Chanyeol.” You say and without a hitch, Chanyeol stood up from the chair and grabs you into his arms. His face nuzzles onto your hair and he inhales your scent deep into his lungs.

“Just so you know, nothing happened between me and Kris that day. He wanted me back, but I told him I have you waiting for me back home.” You felt Chanyeol smile on your neck and he lets go of you slightly to look at your face.

“I’m sorry for doubting you. I love you. Let’s be together for real.” You both chuckle at his reference and he leaned into you to give you the most passionate kiss.

[artificialqueens]

This could happen (Trixya) - Toki

AN: First submission! A little one shot real-world Trixya for your nerves ft. a touch of smut. TW: Drink, drugs, swearing.

It was the longest leg of the journey, a boiling hot summer’s morning, and Trixie was already bored. On a day like this she should be out on the beach, eyes half closed in the dazzling light, sun pouring over her skin and drawing shadows across her slowly hardening abs. She loved going to the gym. She loved showing off her muscles, as if she had no idea anyone was watching her smooth skin ripple when she flexed. She loved being athletic, feeling adult. Getting a smoothie.�� Now she was folded over the central table of the tour bus, listlessly checking the latest Instagram posts she’d been tagged in from the show the night before.  Nothing stood out as she scrolled. The usual thirty meet and greet selfies, the three photos of her grimacing and presenting a gifted copy of Contact, a photo of her with her arm draped over the shoulder of a slight twink sporting a hastily-bought merch T.  Everyone wants to stand out. Form a lasting connection, make an impression, linger in the sleepy next-day mind of the famous drag queen. No one did. She turned off her phone.

The bus was an ageing one, more fitting for a medium-low budget tour. The outlets didn’t work. Battery must be conserved, and that meant socialising.  Trixie pushed herself up from the couch and took a moment to stretch, flexing her biceps as the sun flashed through the windows.  “Ooh girl,” Violet piped up from the front. “Get it mama. Bring those arms up here.” Trixie yawned as she paced forward to where a few of her tourmates were curled up.  It was the tenth morning of the Summer of Drag tour, a long bill spanning fifteen states over twenty-four days. Trixie, Violet, Bianca, Alaska, Aja, Max, Pandora Boxx and Michelle Visage were all on the roster.. for most of the time, anyway. The Summer of Drag lineup varied several times between states to accommodate the busy schedules of the stars, although Trixie, Michelle and Pandora were permanent fixtures. From tomorrow Pearl would be around for a few days, Adore after that, and Sasha V at some point in future.  Trixie dropped down next to Violet and put an arm around her. The mood was definitely low energy, a droning song on the radio as endless fields rolled by outside. The sky was an impossible blue. Thousands of tiny scratchmarks on the windows caught the sun and frosted the windows gold. Most of the queens dozed. A gradual click, click waded into Trixie’s consciousness. She couldn’t place it. “Look at this bullshit.” Violet pushed her phone into Trixie’s hand and slid her sunglasses down over her eyes, shifting a little sideways to get more comfortable. Trixie glanced at the screen, an open text conversation dancing before her eyes as she tried to steady it against the pitch of the bus.

From: PURL bitch I know

From: PURL but like

From: PURL they said they’d find someone else

From: PURL so

Sent: ok but people are gonna talk shit about it cause you did this before (seen)

From: PURL yeah

Sent: I hope they send someone fun (seen)

Sent: this tour is dull af without you (seen)

Sent:  did they say who  (seen)

Sent: i am sooooo oooo oooo boredd (seen)

From: PURL no

From: PURL sorry purp

“Oh, that sucks.“  Trixie tried to pass the phone back to Violet, but her friend had fallen asleep.  She missed Pearl. It was weird how such a chill person could make everything so much more interesting. They hadn’t seen each other since a show in Boston that spring, and she’d been looking forward to catching up. Getting drunk together maybe. Goofing off.  Trixie glanced down at Violet, now snoring slightly. Tiny dark hairs had begun to pepper the skinny queen’s upper lip. A spot of drool was threatening to fall onto Trixie’s shirt. She shifted away slowly, willing it not to move until she was out of its path. Violet was always so confident. It dripped off her just like that drool drop. She seemed so permanently at ease, sometimes making Trixie feel awkward and misplaced against her backdrop of casual droll glamour. No big though. Not really. She was learning to let go of a little of that tightly woven country-boy background that kept her careful in life and love.

I guess we’ll see what the future holds. Maybe I’ll meet someone soon.

Her relationship with David had gone the invitable way of all the rest. Intense half-year honeymoon made stronger by the absences, but eventual scraps over missed dates and finally long silences, a few attempts to resurrect their romance, and a pretty inevitable break up. She didn’t blame him. It’s hard being in love with someone constantly on the go, and David had never been particularly interested in her drag. They’d shared a love of video games and a few music interests, but it hadn’t proven enough to last.

Trixie glanced up at the other queens spread around the bus. Aja was next to Violet, sound asleep. Beyond her Pandora, asleep too. Michelle was on the other side of the aisleway, tapping at her phone carefully with inch-long fake nails. Click, click. Oh, that was the noise. Beyond her was Max, deep in a book. Trixie shifted position and studied her for a minute. The morning sun played across the outline of the boy’s aquiline nose, casting a liquid silhouette across the pages as she turned them slowly. Crazy bone-structured baby bitch. Damn. She resumed count subconsciously.  Alaska was somewhere in the back, probably napping in her bunk. Bianca nonexistent. She’d opted to take flights between stops instead. Hated tour buses. The tour manager was probably up front with the driver. And that made nine. "Okay. Okay okay.” Trixie had finally freed herself from Violet. She rose to her feet and swung herself back towards the table where her phone lay, pushing the power button as she continued towards the bunks at the back. She scanned the rows for her nametag, mostly out of habit by now. Her bed was on the middle shelf, towards the back on the right-hand side. It wasn’t too bad, considering. Older buses seemed to have roomier bunks, and the external wall of hers was just one huge window with a rolling shade to block out the light. She slid it up halfway to let the sun pour in, mostly so she could watch the fields slide by as she rested her head on her warm pink pillow. The landscape really made her think of home. Occasional farmhouses baking in the hot sun, one or two with their aluminium windmill blades turning slowly. Somewhere a fan whirred softly. No birdsong, just the whisper of grass shifting. The quiet purr of the engine. Time slowing. Her eyelids drooped as the details began to blur. This was a nice moment. Tour wasn’t so bad.

“Rest stop ladies!”

Sweaty neck. Dry mouth. Possibly sunburn. Trixie shifted and reached for her phone as she felt the bus slowing down.

You have 114 notifications

Messages (39)

Mom (9) Katya (6) Kim (3) More…

From: Katya idiot

From: Katya idiot

From: Katya barb

From: Katya deb

From: Katya shelby

From: Katya shelby

Ugh.

Sent: Hey

Sent: What’s up

…

(seen)

Katya is typing

“TRIXIEE” came the roar of Violet’s voice, startling the sleepy queen. “GET UP ASSHOLE.” “Oh my god.” “Come on! I need vodka!” “Violet,” Trixie slid out of the bunk and stretched, pacing slowly towards the front. “You don’t need me to fund your alcohol problem girl. Work it out.” Violet had already disappeared through the door. Honestly, Trixie was glad for a break from the drive. She was the last one off the bus, stepping out into the scorching heat as the sunlight landed almost physically onto her skin. She could smell the hot tarmac of the rest-stop parking lot baking in the heat. A bird was croaking somewhere. Time to head for the gas station. She wanted something to drink, some snacks, and definitely something to read. Her phone battery was nearly dead, so she knew she’d be bored as hell for the next five hours.  The cool of the airconditioned store was immediately soothing as Aja’s dry laugh hit her ears. She was a cool kid. Her fanbase after her season aired had grown pretty fast, everyone fascinated by her naomi meets kim aesthetic. She was so honest, too. Easy to like. “Trixie.” Violet broke into her thoughts suddenly, rounding the aisle with a bottle of alcohol in each hand. She bore down on Trixie, offering one as she started to chatter.  “Vodka’s two for one. I have no cash though and my wallet’s on the bus. If you get me this I’ll let you have the other one.” Trixie didn’t even bother to protest the deal. “Sure girl. Get me a mixer, Coke’s fine.” She glanced down at the magazine rack in front of her. It was the usual assembly of shitty gossip editions, packed with fake headlines and the kind of exaggerated celebrity nonsense news that bordered on slander. She’d read all of them. A small side section of arts and crafts books caught her eye though, and she reached for a book of guitar tabs peeking out from the rack. It proved to be an out-of-print collection of 2000-2005 country song arrangements by local state musicians, the poorly printed cover a photo of an older man sitting on his porch with a scrappy looking dog. Looked dumb. Maybe she’d pick up some inspiration for her next tune. A couple of songs from her recently-released album had proven pretty popular, not just with the Drag Race fanbase but also the general public, even charting on the country music billboard. Since then she’d started working on new material, but her creativity had kind of dried up. Nothing stuck. Trixie headed for the counter, grabbing a bag of chips along the way. Violet was waiting for her and passing time making idle conversation with the clerk. He’d clearly recognised the queen, and was not-so-subtly attempting to swing a selfie.  “I’ll take a photo with you if you give me cigarettes,” Violet purred. That’s weird.  “You started smoking, girl?” Violet shrugged. The cashier’s face had fallen a little, and he started to explain that giving out store goods could get him fired. “I got ‘em. I’m not supporting your habit though. You owe me. This is blood money.” “Yeah yeah, I’ll pay you in show money tonight.” Violet laughed. “I always get more than you, so.” “You don’t even need it, cunt. You’re the rich one.” Trixie swiped her card as Violet gathered up their shopping. Her gaze fell on the songbook and she started to mention it, but Trixie’s less than playful shrug stopped her from cracking a joke.  “I’m bored,” she offered by way of explanation. “I figured I’d learn some uh… Backyard Bill and the Moonshines.” “Sounds cool, girl.” Violet shoved the cigarette pack into her back pocket. “I wanna do shots when we get on the bus though. If Pearl’s not coming I’m gonna just get drunk without her.”

Two hours later, Violet set about making good on her promise. Trixie stared at the row of shot glasses Aja was setting up on the table as Violet made sure they were quickly filled.  Alaska was next to her on the couch, slowly peeling nail glue off her fingernails with her characteristic bored langour. She was droning on about the new fashion label venture Sasha Velour was collaborating on. It was interesting, but Trixie wasn’t interested. Max was tucked up on the rear sofa at the table, deep in conversation with the side of Michelle’s face as she continued texting whoever it was she was always talking to.  “Yeah honey,” Trixie heard her murmur, “yeah yeah. Yep.” Aja pushed a shot into her eyeline. “Time to drink, Trixita.” Shots right after lunch. Three hours to go until the venue. Why not? “Cheers.” She downed the vodka easily, Violet a second behind her. Max glanced up from her seat but shook her head at Aja’s offer of a shot. “Guess it’s just the three of us. Move up.” As she started to squeeze onto the couch next to Aja, Violet’s phone lit up for a brief moment.  “How are you getting charge, girl?” “I have a battery pack, a girl gave it to me last night after I tweeted about this dump truck not having power.” “Work.” Trixie dug into her pocket and pulled out her phone. She checked the screen to see her battery level. 2%.

You have 304 notifications

Messages (73)

Agent (29) BTDQ (10) Kim (9) Katya (4) Mom (2) More…

Oh yeah, what did Katya want?  Trixie swiped her phone, but let out an exasperated sigh as the screen froze and then faded to black. “Violet, can I use your charger?” “Sorry girl.” The skinny brunette shrugged as she tied her long hair into a ponytail. “It’s out. Only lasted for like an hour. Hey, round two.”

By the time the tour bus pulled into the venue parking lot it was already starting to get dark. Red stripes scored the early evening sky as the last of the golden sun painted the city skyscrapers. Lights were flicking on all around, late workers hunched over desks as everyone poured into the streets to begin their various evening plans. So many lonely people. I’m super romantic. And super drunk. Fuuck. Trisie slid her bag otno her shoulder andd stagered down theh bus gangway.  STTUUPID. shouldnt get tshi drunk before a show  buit theres no meet and greet tonigth  it'sl be fine she’d alreday put on her makuep evne though it wasn'r completetly as good as usuual. last shot was anhour ago and she was actually startig to sober up. she jstu needed some fresh air. pulling her hood up, she stpped into the cooling evenign air and took a deep breath.  that’s goood. not so bad.  ACtually, startig to feel a lottt better. Pandora put an arm around her shoulders as her head stopped spinning. “You ok?” “Yeah girl. Just shouldn’t drink on the bus. I’m good.” They shared a moment’s laughter as they heard the sudden roar from the line snaking around the side of the building, ripples of excitement spreading as the fans caught sight of the famous queens. “Let’s get inside.” Trixie followed the other queens as the group of prearranged roadies and assistants flooded out from the building. She greeted her assigned aid Toby and pointed out her suitcases amongst the pile being quickly unloaded from the bus, before stepping into the venue and narrowing her eyes to accommodate the dim lighting in the hallway. She was definitely still feeling drunk. Probably needed to touch up her makeup before getting on stage. She checked her watch, peering in the low light. The opening number was in an hour.  Trixie turned the corner of the hallway to see the dressing room doorway and soon spotted the familiar line of mirrors and lights. She plopped herself next to Aja, the newer queen of the pack looking a little more drunk than she was. “Which order are you on?” Aja glanced at the sheet on the countertop as she quickly unloaded her makeup. “Uhh.. Second, right after.. does that say Pandora?” Trixie leaned closer and nodded. “Yeah. Before Max. Then me. There’s no meet and greet tonight though, right?” Aja screwed up her eyes to make out the difference between her foundation powder shades. She held up a brush in a wobbly hand and took a stab at reaching for her base shade. She knocked it off the table.  “Yeah. I think Bianca’s first and last and she usually stays on, right?” “Up to her, girl.” Trixie found to her surprise that her makeup was actually pretty on point. She reached for her set of preprepared lashes and twisted the cap off her Duo tube, running a line of the glue down the middle of each dark clump.  “I can’t wait to get out tonight after this. I want a nap. I’m so fucking tired of the heat. I can’t ever sleep properly, it’s like I just get cramps and have these weird dreams about being late for this summer camp I went to when I was a kid. Except I never went to this one, so it’s like my head just came up with this weird.. place..” Trixie trailed off as she noticed how skillfully and deliberately Aja was painting her face. The younger queen had quickly transformed her cheeks into a distinctive contour, lining her nose with cream shades as she scrunched her eyes up to focus her vision. “Girl how are you so good at this when you’re drunk?” Aja laughed. “I’ve done this so many times. Like too many.” “Worrrk, what do you use to highlight?” “Twin Cake with Ice Angel and Kitten Parade, I’m doing shimmery fairy fantasy tonight.” Trixie glanced over in surprise as she held one set of lashes to her eyelids to let the glue dry. “Seriously? I haven’t met anyone else who uses those two together.” Aja laughed. “I learned it from you! You did a Periscope once ages ago and I asked you what you used. I still use it for my pink look.” “No way.” Trixie blinked a few times to check her lashes were fully attached. All good. “Well girl, I’m gonna go find something to keep my buzz going.” She reached into her bag and yanked out her phone charger, hammering it into the wall and hooking up her phone as she stopped to glance around. Where’s Violet?  A sudden rise in volume hit her as Bianca swept into the room. Immediately her head began to ache and she slipped out the door behind the tiny comedian queen, pausing to give her a quick air kiss. She knew roughly where the stage was, so she started down the hallway to the left hoping to run into an assistant who could grab her a whiskey from the bar. The pounding of the bass from the club filled the air. Trixie paused for a moment to identify the song.  It’s.. yeah, it’s Sissy That Walk.  Would she ever get away from the Ru Girl fame? She knew she should be grateful. Oh, she really was. But it was wearing to travel for weeks on end with people she couldn’t completely bond with, medicating with alcohol to pass the hours. She definitely needed to slow down on that. Except for now. She just wanted to get to the end of this corridor and find the club staff.

Instead, she turned the corner and ran straight into Katya. It took her a few seconds to adjust. The shorter queen was fully made up, double Courtney wig pinned on top in an effortless sweeping blonde style that looked a far stretch from her usual careless ‘ugly drag’. She was wearing her red cheerleader outfit, KATYA spelled out across her chest in black letters. Her bright blue eyes shone out from their smokey black makeup, teeth flashing a perfect white in the low light as she roared with laughter at Violet, the brunette hanging off her arm with a happy devotion.  Trixie sucked in her breath in total surprise. 

“Katya!” she shrieked, a little too excitedly for her own taste. Her comedy partner’s head whipped around and she was met with an enormous grin. Immediately she reached for her friend’s tiny frame. Hugging Katya was always like taking a little bag of bones into her arms, all frenzy and energy and joy.  “What are you doing here?” “They booked me, mama! I’m the surprise guest!” Trixie was flooded with a wave of half-drunk affection. Right when she needed someone to feel close to, here’s this idiot. The pair shared an unbelievable connection, always had. She suddenly found she could bear the thought of the tour. Felt excited, even. “Are you doing any other nights? How long are you staying for?” she asked into Katya’s wig, before pulling out of the hug.  “Just tomorrow!” Their eyes were locked, a moment Trixie didn’t want to break out of. Characteristically, Katya turned away first. “Christ, I need a cigarette.” “I gotcha girl.” Trixie narrowed her eyes as Violet reached into her back pocket and prized out the pack of Camels. She waved it in front of Katya’s face, grinning slyly. “Trade you. Sexual favours.” Oh right. Now it makes sense. She knew. Violet always flirted with Katya. Ever since they’d slept together on tour ages ago, Trixie had definitely felt the sexual tension whenever the queens got in the same room. It was pretty one-sided though, right? Katya laughed and reached for the cigarettes. “You beast! Using my addiction against me Barbara? Are you coming out?"  Violet tightened her grip on Katya’s arm and began tugging her toward the fire exit further down the hallway. As Trixie turned to head in the opposite direction she heard the brunette cackle, "Of course! I’m gonna suck your dick in the alley. Let’s go, bitch.” Eye roll. “I’m so fucking glad you’re here Katya. I’m boooored. You know Pearl dropped the tour?” An insistant flower of anger tugged at Trixie’s throat as she finally reached the backstage area. “Hey someone, can I get a Fireball?” So Violet had known since that morning. Katya was supposed to be Trixie’s comedy partner. They could’ve arranged something. Thrown together an impromptu UNHhhh. Knocked something up to completely eclipse everyone else. To be honest with herself, she’d had been feeling a little overshadowed on the tour. So many gigs and dates had left her little time to work on anything new, so she’d fallen back on Candy Man and a guitar piece from one of her more popular recent songs. Everyone laughed a little flat at her jokes, they’d heard them a thousand times before on social media. And Katya was this.. this catalyst of unpredictable humour, like some explosion of random parts of a thousand cultural references and bit-parts mashed through her perfect set of teeth. She was always, always a surprise. Her stupid goofball humour reached into Trixie and yanked out the best parts of her. Framed them in the spotlight. Made her so cuttingly funny, every joke landing like an old classic, met with shrieks of laughter.  Trixie and Katya the Comedy Duo were a force, and they could outshine absolutely anyone. “Here you go,” Toby showed up out of nowhere, slipping a glass of whiskey into her hand. “Straight up, on us.” “Thanks.”

Two hours later, her buzz was still going strong as she sat down to take off her makeup.  Her performances had gone well, met with a level of appreciation and such a genuine response from the fans that she was left a little humbled. This was what it was about, right? Being an entertainer.  Trixie lifted the heavy wig off her head and let out an enormous groan.  “Suck it up, queen.” Bianca slid down into the chair next to her, quickly touching up her lipliner with an expert eye. “At least you can go to bed. I’m on meet and greet for an hour.” “I’m not going to bed yet girl. Have you seen Katya?” Bianca glanced round and lifted a finger to point at the sky. “What do you think?” Oh yeah. The familiar trap beat opening of Same Parts filtered through the doorway, met with the deafening roar of the already-energised crowd. As Alaska piped up across the room about how much in royalties Katya must have earned for Tatianna, Trixie suddenly remembered her phone. She swiped it on and opened her messages.

From: Katya i’m booked with you!

From: Katya see you tonight

From: Katya lets do a double? I’ve got some new material

From: Katya call me call me

From: Katya deb?

From: Katya see you soon mama

The five mixed drinks Trixie had consumed since reaching the venue quickly welled up in her throat as she suddenly felt regretful about those nasty little thoughts she’d haboured about her friend. Poor Katya, she’d tried to get in touch. She was actually such a good person. And this momentary feeling of elation definitely has nothing to do with feeling jealous before. Jealous of what? I mean it’s normal to want to spend time with Katya. But Violet draping herself on her is so fucking gross. Give me a chance to talk to her.  Trixie suddenly felt a pang of nostalgia for their Australia tour. They’d shared the limelight 50-50 and had spent a couple wonderful days and nights goofing off so far from the usual routine of the big US tours. It’d been so great. Katya’s great. Where’s Katya? Katya’s on stage. Katya’ll be out soon. Katya’s sleeping on the bus tonight. Trixie paused her thought train to sweep her towering pile of black-smudged facewipes into the trash. She quickly slid out her contacts, dumped everything into her bags and shouldered the lightest. Toby, who’d been texting in the corner, immediately jumped to his feet and started ferrying her cases out to the back.  “See you on the bus boo,” Violet piped up, quickly taking down her hair. Alaska was sprawling next to her, texting frantically. No reason to stay here.  Trixie nodded and zipped up her jacket, heading out into the cold air. A pair of fans beyond the fence about forty feet off spotted her and started howling her name, so she gave them a little halfhearted wave before climbing up into the bus. She felt pretty drunk, still. It’d be a shame to waste it.  “SHOT.” “Oh my god.” As her heart returned to normal, Frank the tour manager slid a shot glass across the table. It was still smudged with Aja’s lipstick.  “This is my last night. Pete’s taking over tomorrow.” “Where are we going next again?” “Houston, then Austin.” “And after?” “Tulsa.” “Mhmm.” Trixie skulled the shot and winced. “That’s me for the night.” “No way, everyone’s doing a round when they get on board.” “Well Katya won’t.” “Oh right, I forgot. Was she like an alcoholic before?” “No. She just has an addictive personality and she doesn’t want it. She’s not really into doing things unless it’s a super serious blackout, yknow?” Frank whistled quietly. “Must be tough. You know a lot about her.” Trixie shrugged. “Well, we spend a lot of time talking.” “Do you ever run out of things to talk about?” “No.” Trixie ran her fingertip around the rim of her shot glass. She felt herself click into an automatic Talk-About-Katya mode. It was pretty familiar - she’d probably mentioned her comedy partner in 8/10 interviews. “She’s so funny. I’d marry her if it’d ever actually work between us. But you have to be attracted to someone before you’d want to spend that amount of time with them.” She paused for a second to think. “Either that, or not attracted to them at all. That’s why we get on so well.” Frank reached out and took the glass from between her fingers. “So you’re saying you’re completely 100% platonic?” “I mean..” Trixie started to hear the vague chatter of a few of her tourmates as they approached the bus. “Katya says attraction’s a spectrum. Like it’s such a fluid thing that changes from day to day. There’s definitely times when she’s into me sexually.” The alcohol loosened her lips for a moment. “I liked her too, at first. But I had a boyfriend and the shooting schedule was so intense, we weren’t really allowed to talk in private cause they wanted to film everything. So nothing ever happened.” “Right, yeah.” Frank leaned back to glance out of the window at the approaching queens. “But nothing after it wrapped?” Trixie shrugged. “I mean I definitely liked her. You can’t not like her. But we work so well as business partners that I never let anything happen between us, so I guess..” She shrugged. “That whole physical thing just died out. For me, anyway. I’m all or nothing, emotionally.” Pandora’s face appeared through the doorway, followed by Michelle. “She isn’t much for romance, though. As you could guess.” “Who?” barked Michelle, sliding in next to Trixie. She reached out and took one of the shot glasses Frank had finished refilling. “Who are we talking about?” “Katya.” “Ohh.” Downing the vodka with an expert flick of the wrist, Michelle pulled out her phone and immediately started to text. “The whole Ross-Rachel thing. Don’t you ever get tired of talking about it?"  Trixie shrugged. "It’s pretty good for business. It can get weird though.” She leaned forward. “You know fans write stories about us getting together?” “Mm-hmm.” “They’re elaborate, too. There’s this whole demographic of underaged girls that want us to get together. I don’t get it at all.” Michelle glanced up. “Honey, it’s obvious. Everyone needs a lovestory to believe in. Writing it makes them feel like a part of it.” “You’re right.” “WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW.” Katya’s familiar sex-noise echoed out from her parted grinning lips as the blonde queen burst onto the bus with Violet quickly in tow. “Drinks, ladies? God, I’m so hot. Is there a shower here?” Michelle gestured towards the rear of the coach.  “Help yourself. Use one of the guest towels on the shelf.” “Thanks mama. Nice doing business."  As she swept past the table, Katya glanced down at the line of shot glasses and grabbed one. She slid it over to Trixie before anyone could react and winked. "Trixie’s having mine.” “No, girl. I’m about to be passing out.” “Wouldn’t be the first tiiiime,” Katya half-sang as she disappeared into the bus bathroom. Trixie slid hers over to Michelle who accepted it without comment. They locked eyes for a brief moment, and the motherly brunette gave a smirk.  “You like it when she pays attention to you though, right?” “Oh yeah, she’s great. She makes you feel like the only person in the world.” Violet dropped her phone on the table and slid in next to Michelle. “Oh yeah,” she laughed. “And I’m gonna make HER feel like the only person in the world tonight.” Trixie suddenly snapped into focus. “Wait, yeah. Where’s she sleeping? All the beds are full.” “With me!” Violet rolled her eyes. “Duh. Literally. Literally!” “Yeah, we get it.” Frank broke into the conversation. “You want to fuck him. But not on this bus. Everyone needs sleep and you can hear everything, you know that.” “Shut up, Frank.” “No, he’s right.” Trixie spun around to face Violet, head swimming slightly. “I need to sleep this off, girl. You and Katya can fuck as much as you want, but not in your bunk. It’s above mine, and you know I hate noise like that.” Violet shrugged. “Fine. I’ll get a hotel in.. Where are we next?” “Austin.” “No, Houston. And you can’t, we have to get across to Austin by lunch. We’re driving all night.” “Fuck, I’m never getting laid.” The chat subsided into casual remarks about the evening, but it was always crazy how much everyone loved to talk about Katya. Trixie absentmindedly chewed a fingernail as she tried to understand her friend’s intense charm. It’s like people just wanted to experience her through conversation. Like even if she wasn’t around, she was on people’s minds. She’d even won over- “Alasssssssssssska!” Violet hooted, as the sleepy-eyed queen stepped onto the bus. “Bitch c'mere, we’re toasting Fred. Frank.” “Coming purple monster,” Alaska replied in her gutteral vocal fry. “Were you waiting for me?” “You wish girl. Here.” “Thanks girl. Where’s Kattie sleeping tonight?” “In with me,” Trixie blurted suddenly. She wasn’t taking the chance of Katya and Alaska hooking up. Everyone had half been expecting it since their Aspen snapchats and resulting intense fast friendship. Since those stupid Pure commercials they’d been talking on the phone a lot too.  Katya had a theory about separation of sex and soul. She’d gone into great exploratory detail a few times: wild-eyed, arms waving happily as she burned through cigarettes and spilled thoughts from that great endless mind of hers at a million miles an hour. She loved the idea of anchorless love. She couldn’t see it as a minefield, or anything but a way to tie everything together. She wanted to have sex with the entire world. But sort of with her heart. And brain. And dick. Anyway, she insisted that a successful business partnership could happen even when you were sleeping together. But not with feelings involved - she’d put her foot down about that immediately.  Trixie couldn’t separate emotions and physicality like that. She meant it when she said all or nothing. But maybe Alaska would give Katya what she wanted, and they’d be the next hot new comedy pairing. Maybe that’s what Katya was after. And now she was heading back down the aisle of the bus, makeup gone, towelling off her short blonde hair in a pair of black shorts and a Tshirt that said сука.  “Hiiieee,” she grinned. “What’d I miss. Oh, we’re driving.” Several of the queens around the table turned to check that yes, the bus had smoothly pulled out and was now making its way down an orange-lit road.  “Move over,” Katya squeezed onto the very full seat next to Alaska. Their legs tangled up and she fluidly threw an arm around her shoulders. “Tell me about the tour so far mama. How’s this pit of dusty rusty snakes treating you?” “Oh we’re fiiine.” Alaska dropped her phone onto the table and turned her full attention to her friend.  No one gets her away from that phone but Katya. Trixie leaned forward to join the conversation, but became suddenly aware her head had seriously begun to spin. “Violet’s up to her her usual antics. Max has read every single book, or maybe just one long book, and Michelle’s been doing my nails. We’re nail friends. I hate this god damn bus though."  "Shit.” Alaska and Katya turned to glance at Trixie, who’d turned pale and started to sweat. “Guys, I need to get out.” They quickly made space for her to clamber towards the bathroom, where she slid the door shut and dropped to her knees by the toilet. Everything was super swimmy. Ugh.  She rested her forehead on the seat and closed her eyes. It’d pass. It was mostly the movement of the bus anyhow. She just needed a minute.

“TRIXIE!!” The barbie queen’s eyes snapped open. How long had she been asleep? She reached up and unlatched the door, and immediately Violet spilled in.  “Oh my god. Oh my god I’ve been needing to pee so bad. You fuckin asshole. Get out of here.” “Sorry girl. I passed out for a sec.” Trixie pulled herself unsteadily to her feet and navigated past her friend. She glanced at a few of the empty bunks before swinging herself carefully into her own, head beginning to pound.  “Why do I do this? Fuck.” Time to get some rest. Trixie brought the glowing dial of her watch up to her face and screwed up her eyes in hope of making some sense of the time. 1:12 AM. She’d been out for half an hour.  Down the hallway the queens were still going strong. She could hear Michelle, Aja and Alaska ribbing back and forth, Katya’s shriek of laughter rippling out from time to time. Pandora and Max were deep in conversation, but she couldn’t hear what about. It didn’t matter. Time for sleep.

Neon.

Neon green. Soft. A smoky heavy texture in the air, summer night lonely. Darkness and neon and green. Still.  Two blurry little figures.

Trixie opened her eyes properly and peered out of the window.  The bus was parked up at a gas station. The lights of the pumps were shining out into the dark, and by the edge of the clearing Katya and Alaska were sharing what looked like a joint and talking to each other quietly.  As Trixie watched, Alaska reached up to touch Katya’s arm for just a second. They had their backs turned, and Katya exhaled in a long slow stream of smoke that faded softly into the darkness beyond.  Everything was mostly silent on the bus. A few snores filtered through intro Trixie’s consciousness. She checked the time again - 3:54 AM.  And she suddenly felt lonely. That was the thing with her and Katya. The lines were so blurry they had to be made completely clear and concrete. But Katya was right - attraction was fluid. And right now, Trixie’s heart hurt with jealousy and a touch of confusion.  The way Alaska and Katya were talking in a calm, quiet way made her a little nervous, too. Alaska could cut so easily through to Katya’s more serious side, the vulnerable bit she kept hidden away for the most part. She showed it on Periscope sometimes. Trixie had watched them all.  So what if those two start doing more together? And UNHhhh gets even less of Katya’s time? Whatever they do’ll never be as successful.  She had to admit it felt great working with Katya. She loved how everything seemed to be a predictable hit; platinum star fanbase gold. Their joint videos immediately climbed to most viewed, any minute interaction on social media prized and screencapped and retweeted and obsessed over. Financially, it was a winning combo. And..  And it made her feel special being half of Trixie and Katya when the other half was somewhere nearby being loved by the whole world. Cause there was that connection. It was implied. Katya was in some very unspoken, very platonic way - mostly platonic way - a little bit Trixie’s.  Now the silent late-night duo were turning and walking slowly back towards the bus. Alaska linked arms with Katya, their movements slow and easy. Trixie stared out into the darkness, letting them walk beyond her gaze. She heard the hiss of the door, their muted footsteps as they climbed onboard. She heard their motions as they passed by her in the dark. She heard a stifled giggle as they awkwardly climbed into Alaska’s bunk. She closed her eyes.

It was a boiling hot summer’s morning, Trixie’s mouth was stuck shut, and her eyes felt like little fireballs. Ugh fuck, Fireball.  For the past twenty minutes she’d been willing herself to get back to sleep, but it wasn’t coming. She was still her in sweats from the night before with the bus heating up pretty fast in the baking morning sun. She needed a shower. Swinging one leg out of the bunk, she suddenly realised she’d slept in her shoes. Great. Mess. She kicked them off and padded quietly into the bathroom, careful not to disturb the other sleeping queens. A glance at her watch showed it to be 7 something AM.  She quickly pulled the door shut and shed her clothes, stepping into the stream of lukewarm water with relief.  What a rough night.  Was it?  She cycled through the events from the evening before as she soaped up. That gas station scene had felt like a dream, but Katya’s absence in her bed was all too real this morning. Maybe this was it. The start of a new comedy partnership. One that didn’t involve her. What kind of stuff would they make? Probably something arty. They’d make fun of high concept fashion ads from the 90s and thrill the New York crowd to death. She could see why it’d be funny, too.  Trixie turned off the water and started towelling off as she began to think about her own performance for the coming evening. Maybe a Dolly Parton song to change things up a little. She still needed to check out that stupid country song book. She stepped into a fresh pair of boxers and pulled a shirt over her head. Clean clothes felt amazing. Stretching felt super good, too - even though the little bathroom was too small to really get a good reach. She stepped out into the aisle and tossed her dirty clothes on top of the full laundry basket, reaching out to steady herself as she swung her body into her bunk and dropped down straight on top of Katya.

“WHAT the fuck?” Trixie rapidly hushed her voice as the little queen giggled, squirming underneath her weight. Above her Violet gave a grumpy moan and kicked a foot out into the alley. “You scared me motherfucker,” Trixie hissed. Katya extracted herself and rolled towards the window, squishing herself up against the cool glass. She rested her head on one hand and struck a jaunty paint-me-like-your-french-girls pose. “Hi mama. Miss me?” “No. Where were you? I thought you were supposed to sleep in here last night.” Katya shrugged. “Was I? I slept in with Alaska. I mean I didn’t really sleep. She takes up all the room. Can we cuddle?” Trixie extended an arm without comment and Katya immediately swung her head up into her neck. It always felt so easy. An arm snaked over her stomach and Katya’s little bony hand tucked itself lightly under her hip. “MMmm.” “Shhh.” Trixie felt her friend sneak a knee over hers, pushing in between her legs.  “Let me in mama. Let me in, I’m not gonna try anything. Promise. I just want to sleep.” “No!” “Please? Are you sure?” “Katya.” “Mmmm. Mmm-mm.” “Katya.” “Mmmmm.” “Fine. But you’re gonna sleep and I’m too awake now. I need music. Do you have any?” Without a word, Katya reached into the pocket of her shorts and yanked out her phone, white earbuds tightly wrapped around it. She plopped it on her friend’s chest and rested her hand just below, fingertips in the dip between Trixie’s ribs. Trixie’s neck tickled as she inhaled happily. “You smell good, mama.” Trixie didn’t reply. With one arm around Katya she was finding it tricky to unwind the headphones, lifting the wires as the phone tumbled over onto her chest. It thwapped Katya’s fingers, the little queen mumbled in protest and moved her hand lower down. Halfway onto Trixie’s stomach. And then a touch lower.  “Katya.” “Mmmmmm.” She shifted her weight and slid her knee fully between Trixie’s legs. Their bare thighs settled tightly together, skin to skin. It might have been her imagination, but for a very brief second Trixie felt a completely unexpected twinge.  Fuck, not now.  “I’m not trying anything.” “You better not.” “Mmm. Night.” A moment passed before she felt the subtle shift of Katya’s body relaxing. She always fell asleep immediately. It had been a relief last summer when they’d stayed together, Katya aggressively hitting on Trixie in an effort to culminate their friendshp. Nothing had happened beyond a similar snuggle close to how they lay now, tangled up in a warm embrace. Attraction is such a spectrum. Trixie was pretty sure Katya wasn’t into her at the moment. But you never knew, she never clung at all. No signals. Her thigh, between my thighs.  Trixie needed a distraction. It was biological, right? A response to stimulation. It’d been a long, long time. She tucked an earbud into her left ear and swiped the phone on. It was locked. Katya was already snoring, and her hand was too awkward to tease a finger onto the home button.  Stuck with your crazy Russian musical soundtrack, or whatever. Or t.A.T.u. Or the background white noise track of a meat packing plant or something, you little weirdo. She pressed play from the lock menu. A surprisingly pretty muted synth track flooded her ears. Far off echoed drums. A slightly tuneless Swedish-sounding voice, breaking from odd melodics to soft whispers, phasing between uncomfortable and really beautiful as the chords shifted. This was so Katya. Nothing was ever straightforward. She looked for the odd in everything.  Everything came together. Trixie turned her head to rest her chin on Katya’s warm forehead, eyes half focused on the gold fields rolling past the window. She felt their bodies together, locked tight. Watched the light play over their skin. Their breathing had subconsciously synced, and she spent a few minutes zoning out into the way their chests rose and fell together. She could see Katya’s heartbeat pulsing along the golden skin on the back of her hand. She thought about their skin contact. Katya and Alaska would never snuggle like us. But if they start working together all the time, it’s pretty much the end of us.  At least.. in a business sense.  She knew she was being ridiculous. But she always leapt to conclusions. It was just her mind. Katya mumbled softly in her sleep, pushing her face a little closer into Trixie’s neck.  At least now, even if only for now, Trixie had her friend’s body wrapped up in her arms. She wondered if there’d ever be an event horizon - a moment where Katya’s phenomenal fame kept growing and she drifted away, just out of reach. Didn’t have time for filming. Couldn’t return calls. Didn’t text back. She’d expected that thought to trigger some kind of business plan in her head. A way to make it work. A plot to keep filming and collaborating on everything that kept their duo going. But instead, Trixie was surprised by how strongly her chest opened up and a wave of intense attachment rushed out, threatening to overwhelm her. Her fingers tightened imperceptibly on Katya’s skin.  Don’t go. She bit her tongue to clamp down on that thought, but feelings were hitting her. Hard. No, something else was hitting her.  She glanced down. The crotch of Katya’s shorts had begun to bulge, pressed lightly against Trixie’s thigh. She glanced at Katya’s eyelids and found them still firmly shut, the queen apparently deep in sleep.  Ugh, shit. What do I do now?  The strength of her recent unspoken realisations were enough to deal with at the moment. She definitely didn’t need any physical complications. She should push Katya off her and demand some space. Wake her up. Reestablish those boundaries.  Except.. The blonde queen had started to grind down slowly against her thigh, and for some reason Trixie couldn’t stop staring at the hardening bulge between her legs. Her heart began to pound. Her body began to respond. She could feel the blood starting an inevitable rush downwards, a familiar tingle growing faster than she’d like.  They’d sort of done this before, one time. An intense snuggle, some slow grinding. Katya called it frottage. Trixie thought that sounded like a kind of cheese. She’d cracked a joke and they’d broken it off, Katya rolling quickly off the couch to go find a cigarette. That was before David, before Palm Springs, when they’d had to shut anything like that down due to the budding new relationship. Trixie would be lying if she hadn’t briefly wondered about what would’ve happened in its place. What might have happened one of those vacation nights, maybe after their naked photoshoot.  But that was then, and this was now, and honestly she was starting to lose focus on anything but the now-visible outline of Katya’s erection through her pants.  “Katya,” she whispered. This wasn’t going to happen while anyone was asleep. She felt the queen’s eyelids open sleepily.  “Mm?” This is it. Do or die.  ..Fuck it.

“Come here.” Heart pounding, she took Katya’s hand from her chest and moved it slowly downwards, inch by inch, until Katya’s fingers were just about to brush the rise of her swollen boxers. She lifted her hand away and held her breath as the blonde queen paused for a moment.  And then, without comment, Katya dropped her fingertips lightly onto the shaft of her hard dick. As jolts of electricity pounded through Trixie’s body, Katya began to trace the outline of her erection, moving slowly with two probing fingers before sliding her whole hand over and around her girth, glancing up to meet Trixie’s eyes. “You were right, mama.” “What?” Trixie whispered, caught off-guard. “About the size. I didn’t believe you. You’re big.” “I tol-” Trixie’s breath caught suddenly in her throat as Katya tightened her grip. She began to squeeze with a little more pressure, grinding herself harder against Trixie’s leg.  “You’re too big for me. But maybe I’m right for you.” Trixie felt Katya’s free hand slide down to her hip, pulling her insistently onto her side to face her. She felt her fingers begin to tug her boxers down, the other hand still slowly moving up and down her dick with the kind of pressure that felt unbelievable through the material. It was too much. And then she was free, and Katya’s fingers were sliding around her shaft, and Katya was pushing her own pants down with a quick movement from her spare hand.  “Touch me,” she whispered, bring her lips up to Trixie’s. The skin was barely grazing, and Katya kept it that way. Trixie could smell her. Could almost taste her. Her lips started to ache, anticipating their kiss. Katya read her mind, and reached out for her hand. “Touch me first.” Trixie complied, letting Katya guide her down to her dick. She felt the warm skin touch her fingertips, and before she had a moment to think she’d already wrapped her hand around the girth of it, eliciting a tiny moan from Katya. They began to pump each other slowly, the hot breath between their lips mingling as they tried to stay silent. Trixie could feel herself melting into the sensation, her eyes closing in the warm sun, disappearing completely into the way her heart wrapped about Katya’s touch. She leaned forward to break the desperate tension but Katya leaned back, just out of reach. “Not yet.” “Katya? Where’s Katya?” Shit. Frank. Fuck.  Trixie opened her eyes to meet Katya’s blue-eyed surprise.  “Oh shit.” Trixie quickly scooted over to the bunk curtain, tugging her boxers up with one hand and pulling her shirt down with the other. She had no idea why she felt so guilty, but the way Katya was grinning made her jump all over. Now she could see Frank, barefoot and sleepy-eyed, some papers in his hands. “She’s here. What’s up?” “She has to sign these insurance forms. I should’ve had her do it last night but I need her to do it now before we cross state lines.” “I’m coming.” Katya finished buttoning up her shorts and propped herself up on one elbow. “I’ll be there in a sec.” “I’m leaving them on the table.” Trixie glanced over and watched as her newfound crush checked her pockets for her cigarettes. She finally found the crushed pack and teased one out, sliding it between her lips with a little smile. “Hey, do you know I bought those for you?” Trixie whispered. Katya flashed her a look of surprise. “Well.. I paid for them.” Made sense. Katya pulled the cigarette from her mouth and leaned in towards her.  “Do you want a small kiss, mama?” Fuck yes. But maybe..  “Tonight.” Gotta maintain some boundaries. A flash of a grin, the tiniest linger of her hand against Trixie’s chest as she clambered over her, and Katya was gone.  Trixie knew she wouldn’t be back. It wasn’t her style. But they had one more night to figure it out.

It was the second longest leg of the journey, a boiling hot summer’s morning, and Trixie was writing a song.