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prettybillycore · 2 years

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Please Don't Die Again || Connor (RK800) x GN!Reader

Pairing(s): Connor (RK800) x GN!Reader ; Minor Elijah Kamski x GN!Reader

Universe: Detroit: Become Human

Summary: You, a former employee at Cyberlife, now work as a Detective along side Hank and Connor. As the android revolution begins, Connor finds himself faced with a choice– his mission or you.

Rating: Teen

Word Count: 4.1k

Warnings: Canon typical violence, yandere!Elijah Kamski, Gun violence, Connor (rk800) temporary death

A/N: Ahhh! My first non-stranger things request this summer; I have so much love in my heart for Deviant!Connor. I decided to follow the advice of @whoringrove and work on whatever my brain was most drawn to. Right now, I’m working on the second chapter of “Stranger Things Have Happened in Hawkins” but because it takes place in ST3 canon ‘verse, I really need to rewatch the whole season before finishing it. I’m itching to create right now, not watch something, so oop here’s an rk800 x reader fic. I hope you enjoy @momos-peaches <3

Read it on AO3 or right here on Tumblr (below the cut on this post)

You knew Connor could die and be placed inside of a new body– Hank told you about the one time he was killed before; he was hit by a car going down the freeway. However, you were not there to witness that death. You had never personally seen Connor die and you most certainly weren’t the cause. This was not the freeway incident though, this was the battle for android freedom in Detroit.

You were once on the side of the city, protecting humans at all costs. Now, you were at the center of the android revolution– and Connor’s blue blood was on your hands.

| < ♥️ > |

You were born into a well-off family and your mother worked in the technology industry. You grew up with Elijah Kamski as your best friend and worked with him for the first several years of your adult life. You were the creative mind behind a lot of the aesthetic choices– clothes, facial structures, etc. There was enjoyment and pride in your work at first, but you watched Elijah turn into a shell of his fun-loving self. He became more arrogant and honestly an ass to be around. You kept him within your social circle because you couldn’t bear to lose someone so close to you, but you didn’t agree with the treatment of his android companions. You weren’t as technologically gifted as him, but you helped him create the first androids. You wanted them to be treated with respect and kindness– Elijah saw them as nothing more than machines. He tormented you for it and you ended up leaving your very high-paying job at Cyberlife before he left his. You went back to school and ended up joining the police force as a detective– he retired to a mansion in the middle of nowhere. He invited you over often, but you started accepting fewer invitations as you started working more hours.

Hank Anderson worked at the desk across from yours. You had very different views on androids, but he was a gentle soul to you. He valued your opinions on his cases highly and often requested to work with you over other detectives. It warmed your heart and gave you a father figure you could actually reach out to. This is how you met RK800, better known as “Connor.”

He was far more advanced than any of the androids you worked on and his physical appearance wasn’t your design. You guessed that he was made by the team that replaced yours and you were honestly amazed by his existence. His data analysis software was incredible and he was extremely skilled in crime scene investigation. You knew the moment that you met him at the Ortiz house, you knew he was special.

| < ♥️ > |

You were already inside the house when he entered behind Hank. You smiled at the two of them as they came inside. You stood up from your place over the body, “Ah, Lieutenant Anderson, I thought you might never come.”

He rolled his eyes as he approached. Connor was matching his pace. You eyed him curiously, but pretended not to notice him– as much as you could, anyway. Though, you are sure Connor noticed your glances. “I wasn’t gonna come, but this jackass showed up at Jimmy’s bar and said you were working this one alone. Thought you might want a hand.”

“Extra hands are always welcome at my crime scenes; we could use all the help we can get to be honest with you. Household androids are becoming more unstable every day… I just don’t understand why. Take a look at the scene in the kitchen, Lieutenant; something awful.”

“Can do,” he replied shortly before walking past you.

Your eyes fell on Connor, who was standing stiffly a few feet from you. “I would shake your hands, but I’m gloved and have blood on me… what’s your name?”

“My name is Connor. I’m the android sent by Cyberlife to assist Lieutenant Anderson with the rise in deviant cases.” His answer was stark and to the point, but there was something behind the inflection of his voice. You could feel his gaze; it was dull and unwavering.

“I’m guessing you already know who I am based on what Hank said.”

He nodded curtly. “Y/n L/n. Current Detective at Detroit Police Department and former Creative Director of Cyberlife.”

You smiled again. “Indeed, it’s nice to meet you, Connor.”

| < ♥️ > |

The next two days were some of the most action-packed and traumatic days of your life. You protected Connor from Gavin’s android hatred, searched the Eden Club, and witness an unmasked android give a freedom speech on national television– not to mention all the cases that were piling up of deviants committing felonies. You felt protective of Connor at this point and he felt protective of you, though he didn’t understand why he felt that way. Hank was still a little skeptical of Connor as you approached your childhood friend’s home, but you had no doubts in your mind– Connor wasn’t just human-like, he was human. Much like many of the androids you were trying to track down/stop, he showed bright, shining signs of humanity. It made you incredibly nervous to take him with you to Elijah’s. It made you so nervous, in fact, you asked him to do something very unlike you.

Hank stopped the car outside of the Kamski residence. Connor was in the back seat and started to open his door before you squeaked out, “Connor, stay here.”

“What?” Hank questioned.

Connor pulled the door shut again, but kept his hand on the handle. “Why, Detective?”

“Uh…” you faltered. You felt silly saying it, but you were sincerely worried for Connor’s safety in Elijah’s presence. As much as you hated it, the man could read you like an open book. He would know that you cared for Connor and would do everything he could to use that connection to his advantage. “Kamski will try to turn me against you, I just know.”

“Oh come on, Y/n. You’re not going to turn your back on me and Connor. We’ll all be fine,” Hank assured.

“I would feel much better about this visit if Connor were to stay in the car. He is safe in the car,” You argued.

Hank rolled his eyes. “If anything happens to him, as much as I hate it, Cyberlife will fix him and he’ll be back on the job tomorrow.”

“I appreciate the concern Detective, but Lieutenant Anderson is right. I am replaceable.”

Hearing those words absolutely shattered your heart. “Connor…”

Hank patted your shoulder. “Come on, kid. He’ll be fine. Let’s go get this over with. I know you hate this fucker as much as I do.”

| < ♥️ > |

Elijah had his eyes on you from the moment you walked into the swimming pool room. There were quite a few Chloe models present, which did not surprise you. She was the first model to pass the Turing test and you had designed her (aesthetically speaking). Elijah had little touches of your relationship all over his house– your painting in the entryway, a few drawings of yours on the walls, even a picture of you two as kids in a frame on a table near the window, and of course Chloe. Though he was taking his sweet time getting out of the pool, he was keeping a close eye on you. You weren’t the only one to notice these details though– they were noticed by Connor and Hank both. The feeling of his eyes on you made your skin crawl as he climbed out of the pool. “I was surprised to see your name on my schedule, Y/n, but I am oh so happy to see you again. What’s it been? Six months?”

You did your best not to falter at his words, but his tone sent a chill up your spine. “I’ve been busy with my work at DPD. You know that, Elijah.” You used his first name on purpose; you were hoping it would throw him off his game. When you worked together at Cyberlife, you fell into the habit of calling him Kamski; everyone else did, so when you called him by his first name, it usually knocked the snark out of him. “These are my friends; Lieutenant Anderson and Connor.”

“What can I do for you, Y/n? Lieutenant?” He asked, only addressing you and Hank. It was annoying you slightly that he was being so informal with you, but at the end of the day, you couldn’t blame him. You two had such a long history it would be sort of unsettling for him to call you ‘detective’, though you despised him calling you just by your first name. It gave you a feeling of disgust in the deepest pit of your stomach.

You could see the weary look on Hank’s face. It wasn’t surprising– he was fairly protective over you. What was a little surprising was the fact that Connor’s LED was circling yellow to red and back again. Your words felt like they were trapped in your throat, so Hank picked up the conversation. “Sir, we’re investigating deviants. I know you left CyberLife years ago but, I was hoping you'd be able to tell us something we don’t know…”

Kamski smirked, “Deviants… Fascinating, aren't they? Perfect beings with infinite intelligence, and now they have free will… Machines are so superior to us, confrontation was inevitable… Humanity’s greatest achievement threatens to be its downfall. Isn’t it ironic?”

“We need to understand how androids become deviants. Do you know anything that could help us?” Connor questioned. Elijah’s strong gaze shifted to him for a moment. Then, it shifted between the two of you. You had a bad feeling before you walked inside the house, but it was getting stronger with every passing second that you all were inside. You shifted slightly, placing yourself vaguely in front of Connor. Your eyes met Elijah’s and you could see him deeply contemplating his next move.

“All ideas are viruses that spread like epidemics... Is the desire to be free a contagious disease?”

Hank was becoming impatient with the conversation. You could see it plainly on his face and in his body language. “Listen, I didn’t come here to talk philosophy. The machines you created may be planning a revolution. Either you can tell us something that'll be helpful, or we will be on our way.”

Elijah began to step closer to you and Connor. You tilted your head while shooting your former best friend a questioning look. You knew that he was paying attention to you, but he didn’t acknowledge you at all. He kept his eyes trained on your android companion, while his fingers twitched at his sides. “What about you, Connor? Whose side are you on?”

You looked away from Elijah and toward Connor. He was looking back at you, but only for a brief moment. The light on his temple was still flicking between yellow and red as he looked toward Elijah, “It's not about me, Mr. Kamski. All I want is to solve this case.”

Elijah chuckled a bit, pulling his lip with his teeth. “Well, that's what you're programmed to say… but you…” He was getting uncomfortably close to both you and Connor. He angled himself so he was off to the side a little bit, away from you, but he was still less than a foot away now. His glance came toward you for a moment before going back to Connor, “What do you really want?”

Your eyes were glued to Elijah. You, Hank, and Connor were all weaponless because that was an agreement of the meeting, but you were still trying to calculate the best way to incapacitate him if things went south. Connor, again, glanced in your direction, but you didn’t notice this time. Elijah and Hank both did though. “I’m sorry, but I don’t see where you're getting at,” he replied. His defensive tone didn’t go unnoticed by you, though.

“Y/n, would you mind stepping over to stand next to Chloe?”

You quirked your eyebrow at him. “Why?”

“I would like to run a little test on your android and you’re blocking my way.”

You knew exactly what test he meant. There was nothing else he could mean with that evil little glimmer in his eye, “No way in hell you’re doing to that to him. I won’t let you.”

He had a curious expression on his face. He had completely turned his attention to you. His hand came to rest on your upper arm as he answered. “Interesting. You’re so protective of a machine, I mean, you always have been rather fond of androids, but that adorable angry look on your face– oh you care about it, don’t you, Angel?”

You nearly gagged at the nickname. You knew he had feelings for you somewhere in your past, but he hadn’t called you ‘angel’ since you were in your early twenties. He stopped after you rejected him. It’s probably where the bitterness in your relationship started. God, you felt like you were going to be sick. Hank was in shock behind you and didn’t know how to intervene; Connor felt like he was frozen in place. His orders were telling him to focus on the mission, but the thought “protect y/n” was trying to force itself to become his primary directive. Elijah took the opportunity to place his free hand under your chin. His fingers dug into your skin. “What? Did I hit a nerve, detective?” That smirk planted itself on his face again. “Chloe, get the device.” His eyes never left yours. Your brain was screaming at you to rip yourself from his grasp, but you couldn’t get your feet to move. His hand moved from your chin to your other arm. He forced you out of the way as Chloe pulled a gun out of the table drawer. He almost threw you out of the way he used so much force. You stumbled into the chair next to the table and sucked in a harsh breath. Connor’s LED was completely red, but he was still unable to pick a directive. “I’m sure you’re familiar with the Turing test. Mere formality, simple question of algorithms and computing capacity. What interests me is whether machines are capable of empathy. I call it "the Kamski test", it's very simple, you'll see…” He turned to Chloe, an almost hungry look in his eyes as he took the gun from her hands. “Magnificent, isn't it? One of the first intelligent models developed by CyberLife, completely designed by Y/n and myself. Young and beautiful forever. A flower that will never wither……But what is it really? Piece of plastic imitating a human? Or a living being... With a soul…?” Elijah handed the gun to Connor. “It's up to you to answer that fascinating question, Connor. Destroy this machine and I'll tell you all I know. Or spare it, if you feel it's alive, but you'll leave here without having learned anything from me.”

Hank found his voice again after seeing the fear in your eyes. “Okay, I think we’re done here. Come on, Connor. Let's go. Sorry to get you outta your pool.”

Elijah was getting more and more in Connor’s face. “What's more important to you, Connor? Your investigation, or the life of this android? Decide who you are. An obedient machine… Or a living being endowed with free will…”

“That's enough! Connor, Y/n, we’re leaving.”

“Pull the trigger,” Elijah taunted. It was like watching the angel and devil on Connor’s shoulders. He looked to you for an answer. Elijah had aimed the gun at Chloe and for Connor, it would be just one quick motion, but…

“Connor, don’t…” Hank said.

Connor was searching your face for an answer. “Please no…” you mumbled.

“I'll tell you what you wanna know,” Elijah mumbled.

Connor lowered the gun and could feel himself destabilizing. Elijah sighed and moved away from Connor. He walked back over the table and opened the drawer again. Before you could process what was happening, he yanked you to your feet and had his hand around your neck. You could feel him closing his fingers tightly enough to start cutting off your oxygen. You grabbed at his hand for a moment, before you felt the cold metal of a gun barrel pressed against your temple. Your breath was gone from your lungs. You never would have seen this coming. “Eli–” You couldn’t get his whole name out.

“What the fuck are you doing, Kamski?” Hank shouted. All of the Chloe models that were still in the pool had begun to watch.

“Fascinating… CyberLife's last chance to save humanity... is itself a deviant…” Elijah mused. “I have another test for you, Connor. We’ll call it the Y/n test.” He relaxed his fingers slightly so you could breathe again. “You, a piece of plastic, have somehow managed to capture Y/n’s attention.” He rubbed his thumb across your chin so softly it almost felt like a comforting gesture. “I could have given them everything. A mansion, wealth beyond anything they have ever seen, they never would have had to work a day in their whole life, but they turned me down. They left Cyberlife and eventually became a detective. Ever since they joined DPD they’ve been slipping farther and farther away. I can’t even get them to come over for a meal anymore, but you… in a few days, they have become completely enamored with you.” His hands were trembling with anger. He began constricting your air again. “This test should be easy for you Connor; shoot the Chloe model and I will let Y/n go, unharmed. You three will walk out of here with no information, but the detective will be fine and Chloe will be replaced. If you refuse to shoot Chloe, I’ll shoot your favorite human, but I will tell you everything I know. Are you willing to sacrifice the life of this human for your mission? Someone’s going to die, Connor. It’s up to you to decide.” Elijah clicked the safety off.

Connor looked between you, Chloe, and Hank. You had been in danger before with your job, but this was the closest you had ever come to death. Connor could read the terror in your expression. Hank was scared too. Connor had never seen Hank truly scared before. “Kamski–”

“Quiet! This is Connor’s choice.”

Connor closed his eyes and pulled the trigger. Chloe shut down almost instantly and Elijah dropped his gun on the ground next to him. He let go of your throat and Connor rushed forward to catch you. You pulled in as many deep breaths as you could. Connor’s sensors scanned your injuries and determined quickly, that while extremely distressed, that you were relatively unharmed. Without saying anything, he wrapped his arm under your knees and behind your back. “Let’s go, quickly Lieutenant.”

Hank didn’t argue and neither did Elijah. Connor nearly ran to the car with you in his arms, jumping into the back of the vehicle with you. “Y/n? Are you alright, Y/n?” You nodded as you started to catch your breath. Hank got into the driver’s seat and started down the road as quickly as he could. “What’s their status, Connor?”

“Stable, but we should have them seen by a doctor to make sure Kamski didn’t cause any serious damage.”

“Guys… I’ll be fine.”

“Shut up, Y/n. If Connor says you should see a doctor, we’re stopping at a doctor.”

| < ♥️ > |

Connor had no idea that you had tailed him to Jericho. You were so careful not to let him see you. You followed him all the way up to Markus and North in the Captain’s cabin. North had a gun, but from what you could tell, it was jammed. “What are you doing? You are one of us… You can’t betray your own people…”

You had met Markus before; he was one of your designs. You never imagined that he would end up being RA9, but knowing Carl, it made sense. Carl treated Markus as another son and gave him freedoms that many other androids did not have. “You're coming with me!”

“You're nothing to them. You're just a tool they use to do their dirty work. But you're more than that. We are all more than that… Do you never have any doubts? You’ve never done something irrational, as if there's something inside you?.. Something more than your program.”

You couldn’t tell what Connor or North was thinking so you decided it was best to intervene before something went wrong. “Connor!” you called. His head snapped in your direction before he started looking at North and Markus again.

“What are you doing here, Detective? How did you find me?”

“Connor, put the gun down. Markus is good, I promise. We’ve met before.”

“I don’t believe my eyes,” Markus said. “Y/n L/n. You designed me for Carl.”

You tossed him a soft smile. “Hello again, Markus.” You walked around Connor’s side and walked in front of his gun.

“Y/n don’t–”

“You don’t have to do this, Connor. You have done something irrational. There is something more than your program, just like Markus said. You had no idea if Elijah would have gone through with his threat. You could have followed orders and let me die. You could have learned whatever you wanted about deviants from him, but you didn’t– you saved me because you care about me, Connor. I know you do! Put the gun down and we can talk about this. I know Cyberlife is telling you that Markus is the enemy, but he’s not and you know that he’s not.”

Connor lowered the gun to his side, but he didn’t drop it. You stepped to the side where he was holding it and set your hand on his. You were going to continue talking him down, but a loud bang came from behind you and the next thing you knew, Connor had blue blood dripping from a bullet wound– right between his eyes. Markus shouted at North and you screamed bloody murder as he collapsed. “Fuck! FUCK, CONNOR! Don’t you fucking leave me here…”

| < ♥️ > |

Life was not going so well for anyone around you at this point. You were at Hank’s house; your head in your hands as you sat on the couch. Sumo was whining for you to cheer up, but you couldn’t. Connor’s death was just replaying in your mind on repeat. Hank was in the kitchen and not doing much better than you. The both of you were so out of it, that you didn’t hear the bedroom window being open and shut. “Lieutenant!” Connor shouted. “Lieutenant it’s me! I need your help!”

You shot up from the couch and Hank bolted in from the kitchen. “Connor? How–”

“Cyberlife will always replace me. I’ve found Markus and the others. He’s shown me what I can really be, I… I’m deviant. I offered to go to Cyberlife to gather more androids for the war, but… I’m scared and I need help. I wanted to see you, Y/n, but I was afraid of that too.”

“Fuck…” You used your hands to wipe the fresh tears from your eyes. “Connor… I… you died in my arms. I watched you fucking die right in front of me… You can’t do that shit…”

“Y/n… I’m sorry.”

“Sorry doesn’t fix it! It’s not your fault anyway… North shot you because she thought you would kill her and Markus. I’m glad your back, but it’s so fucking weird. It’s messing with my brain…”

Connor slowly started to walk around the couch. “Can I do anything?”

“You… Please don’t die again! I can’t do that again. Your blood was everywhere and I felt so fucking helpless. Markus just kept apologizing and I didn’t know what to do. We had to leave your body and run because soldiers started attacking Jericho. I felt so bad, but I couldn’t carry you out, I–”

Connor reached out and set his hand on you shoulder. “It’s alright now, Y/n. I know how much my death upset Hank and I can see it hurt you. I will do everything I can not to die again.”

The softness of his voice and his simple touch did you in completely. You rushed forward and wrapped your arms around him. “You better not die again, I need you here.”

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foodsies4me · 12 days

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My mind is running circles about the last bridges chapter because wtf???? So many things!!!

I lovvvved seeing that fierce protector in Alec come out when Raphael was taunting him. Like Alec has been so calculated and has kept so much to himself whilst in the Spiral. The moment of him letting a bit of his rage and disgust shine through was just *chef kiss*. Cause yeah he should be annoyed at the situation and he’s been actually a very good house guest imo. I kinda love a feral Alec going to bat for the people he loves. I’m sure we will see more of that soon too!

Obviously I gotta comment on Chairman finding Alec in the library!!! I’m sure Raphael was losing his mind and so conflicted seeing Alec be so soft with Magnus cat. Also the fact that he’s an extension of Magnus magic so there’s some deeper connection there that everyone is ignoring. Chairman and Alec bonding is always an 11/10 yes please thank you.

I have many questions around that verse Alec was reading?! Cause I know it has something to do with why he gets weird reaction to Magnus magic. My brain is not braining right now so I suppose I’ll have to wait and see.

Also thank fk for Cat. I’m excited to see a bit more about the whole trainees illness saga and how this ties back to the marriage. Magnus actually owes Alec so many answers cause this man is a nice person and he deserves to be respected too?? Ngl I’m actually kinda mad at Magnus for the marriage thing buttttt I know there’s some other complex situation going on. So for now I will stay open minded and see where this awesome story takes us :)

There will be more feral Alec protecting his kids, yes. And those he loves in general. I love feral, I Will murder you if you so much as look at my loved ones Alec too much not to give him his time to shine. 😁

I am not saying anything about the Chairman and Alec connection because that way lie spoilers but yes that connection is something that should be analyzed in more depth (and is one of the reasons Magnus is mentally going &@!#^! in his POV because what is this???)

Same for the paragraph it says something about what’s going on, what’s not written says even *more* about what’s going on, but that way lie spoilers so all I’m saying is 😇.

Cat is being the best and I adore her so I’m very happy she’s being cooperative and okay with appearing every second chapter in this fic. Also. Can’t wait to have some of her more badass moments start to shine through because that BAMF!Cat tag isn’t there for decoration. 😄

Magnus has a very good reason for what he did and is doing, yes. Magnus is a lot but he’s not needlessly cruel, even if that’s how he might come across to some at the moment. We can’t forget we’re seeing everything from Alec’s POV after all and that everything is thus colored by his biases, or what he knows about the situation.💜

#Foodsies rambles #Also am I being bad and writing the next chapter of Bridges while I set out to work on AWG? Yes #But in my defense I’m stuck on the cerzmony #Because my brain suddenly decided it was not happy with what I planned right when I went to rewrite my draft

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justanotherblonde · 3 months

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it's sasodei week 2024!

i have precisely one thing to contribute, but ffs it's not done yet grr!! maybe we can blame my dog... she demanded i come play with her no less than nine times (i kept track) as i wrote this post (she does this by shouting at me then humping my leg to show me who's boss, sometimes pulling on my sweater sleeve with her sharp li'l teefs, beagles, man, i tell ya...) 🐶

anyway!! here's a TEASER of my Day 3 Band/Rockstar/Idol AU story ahhhhh!!! it's not even titled yet!!!!! i don't even really know what the tags will be! and i haven't had time to make a header image!! 😫

but this i know, oh this i know:

Sasori is first chair cello of the Sunagakure Philharmonic

He has a dirty little secret hobby: listening to metal (among other genres that are definitely not classical)

One of the bands he listens to is called C4

Guess who's the lead singer???

Yes, you guessed it, it's Deidara, singer/song-writer, perhaps much more...

In this AU, everybody lives!! Well... okay fine, Sasori's parents still didn't make it, i'm sorry

But that means two important things: Third Kazekage is alive! And there are a LOT of Uchiha running around.

There's more, a lot more, but you'll have to wait until i steal more minutes and hours from my dog and my work! but i'll give it to ya, come hell or high water! or wildfires, earthquakes, debilitating PM 2.5 ratings, or uh... dare i say... another pandemic??? FEAR NOT!

if you want to wait for the full thing to drop to read, i've left the teaser excerpt below the cut.

a million thanks to @sasodeiweek for hosting this event and encouraging us SasoDei creators to flex our creative muscles! loving all the contributions so far!

and without further ado...

Rehearsal ran circles round Sasori’s ears. The music followed him always, all hours.

Chapter 1

Rehearsal ran circles round Sasori’s ears. The music followed him always, all hours.

The fine, agile fingers of his left hand twitched; his right hand swayed side to side, marking the strokes of his bow. Eyes half-closed, his feet kept time on the pavement as he walked. It was Haydn this week, Cello Concerto No. 1 in C major. A weighty yet familiar responsibility for Sasori, first chair cello of the Sunagakure Philharmonic.

He sighed. Rehearsal had wrapped half an hour ago. He was on his way home, and tomorrow was a rest day. He didn’t need to torture himself like this.

The headphones around his neck were a comforting weight, as friendly and intimate as the straps of his cello case on his shoulders. He flipped them over his ears and dug in his coat pocket for his phone. Scrolling through the saved playlists on his music app, he skipped all of the classical “homework” and went straight for his guilty pleasures: dance-pop, glam-rock, musicals… and heavy metal.

No one at work knew about his low, low tastes.

Well, the Third had known.

Sasori gritted his teeth, biting back unbidden memories. Now he definitely needed to blast his brain clean with some noise.

Something heavy.

Something loud.

Something to transport him far away from the sand-scraped streets of Sunagakure.

His thumb landed on the album he was looking for.

Art is an EXPLOSION by C4. Track 1: “Light It Up.”

From that first haunting guitar chord, the tension Sasori held in his chest and face dispersed. He rode that twisting whine down, down… someplace dark and cool, far beneath the earth. As the barreling drums built to a crescendo, he held his breath—wait for it!—

A million years, through timeless stone I’m damned to walk this path alone This darkness, all I’ve ever known…

The lead singer had a deep, melodic voice. He molded each word of the verse carefully, tenderly, as if he were embarking on a ballad… then WHAM!

Cymbals crashed; the roaring chorus caught the last two notes of an electrifying riff like a surfer hopping a wave:

Light it up! Hey, light it up! Strike a match and light it up! My fuse is short, ’m ready to blow, Crush the ceiling down to the floor!

Not in a million years would Sasori admit out loud to anyone that he listened to C4, especially not now that the public were actually aware of their existence. The metal band had catapulted to fame last year with their single “Burn Down All the Discos,” but Sasori had been listening to them well before that. Three years ago, his music app had recommended him a track from Art is an EXPLOSION—C4’s debut album—based on his eclectic streaming history.

If the first song Sasori had heard by C4 had been anything but “Artist,” he’d probably never have given them a chance: their usual sound was, on the surface, sloppy, and most of the lyrics were childish boasts. “Look at me!” their vocalist seemed to say in every song.

But “Artist” was different. It was, inexplicably, an up-tempo perversion of Vivaldi’s Winter Largo in F Minor, lamenting how hard it was to live for art’s sake when the world ran on money and heroic virtue. Listeners without classical training would be unable to appreciate or likely even identify the subtleties of what had been done with the classical score, but the first time he heard it, Sasori had been riveted. Vivaldi’s rhythmic harpsichord had been replaced with a softly tapped snare drum; a mournful electric guitar carried the melody when it wasn’t sung.

Curiosity piqued, Sasori had investigated the rest of the album, and found similar nods to classical music throughout the tracks, much harder to notice than the adapted Vivaldi, drowned as they were in a thunderstorm of electric guitar and percussion. C4 were more than just a metal band: they experimented with typical traits of the genre and also drew from pop rock, classical music, even musical theatre to create a sound unlike anything Sasori had ever heard. They broke all the rules and they did it with glee.

One day—a rest day—home alone and bored, Sasori had looked up the band online. It surprised him to learn that the lead singer had been only sixteen when the band was formed. That powerful voice certainly didn’t sound like it belonged to a teenager. But the band’s website was light on biographical information, and Sasori hadn’t felt like digging deeper. An overwhelming amount of fan sites and social media accounts had sprung up since “Burn Down All the Discos” and C4’s world tour. Bored as he was that day, Sasori wasn’t about to use his precious free time to obsess over some flash-in-the-pan rock band, especially one fronted by a kid.

And yet, he still listened to them.

“Artist” often competed for the position of most frequently-played song on his app, but only when he was feeling particularly moody.

It crossed his mind that he ought to check if C4 had come out with anything new lately—the app usually sent a message when artists he’d followed released new music. Pausing to wait for a traffic light, he dug for his phone again.

Lo and behold, a new album had dropped not three days ago.

Beauty of a Moment, it was called. The cover art featured the Venus de Milo... mid-explosion.

Sasori chuckled under his breath. “He really does fancy himself an artist, doesn’t he…”

What a fool. Popular music was not art. Rock music was not art. It came and went, but the classics stayed. For centuries. Forever.

It was the one thing Sasori and the Third had always agreed on, despite all of their differences.

Speaking of which…

...

#sasodeiweek2024 #justanotherblonde #sasori #deidara #sasodei #deisaso #sasodeiweek #music AU #band AU #idol AU #rockstar AU

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godlizzza · 7 months

Note

Hi!!!! Ive been reading your ai3 stuff like CRAZY lately and i really love the NSFW stuff you put on there, my favorites being ‘Beg For It’ and ‘Is That Good?’

Anyways, I would love to see more bratty bottom Herbert content 👉👈 pls and ty have a great night!!

"Wouldn't you rather, uh, go upstairs?" Dan asked.

Herbert glared at him over his shoulder from his position bent over the table. "Suddenly putting the breaks on after rubbing up against me? Really, Dan?"

Dan flushed angrily, which Herbert thought was rich. He'd been perched on his stool, writing out his notes when Dan wandered down into the lab, talking idly of dinner. He'd circled the table a few times and it didn't take a genius-level intellect for Herbert to notice the way Dan was looking him up and down, like he hoped Herbert was on the menu tonight. Then he'd settled behind Herbert, wound his arms around him and began pressing kisses to the back of his neck. Herbert had immediately felt Dan's interest against the small of his back, rubbing insistently.

At first, Herbert had ignored him, something he was well-versed in doing when Dan got like this, and continued scribbling away at his notes. Dan had been determined not to be ignored though, and doubled his efforts, sucking under Herbert's jaw, running his hands up and down his stomach and groping him between his legs. Eventually, the words on the paper grew fuzzy as the blood rushed from Herbert's brain to pool in other parts of his body. With an aggrieved sigh, he'd stood up, kicking the stool away and submitted himself to Dan's attentions.

Now, though, they'd hit a snag in things.

Dan was looking cross for a man with an erection tenting the crotch of his pants. "I just want you to be comfortable."

"I'll be more comfortable when you're not pestering me," Herbert snapped. "Now, hurry up and fuck me so I can get back to work."

Dan's jaw tightened and Herbert suppressed a grin as Dan ripped his belt open. If there was one sure-fire way he knew to get Dan moving, it was to poke and needle him. Nothing seemed to get him moving quite like being mad, and Herbert found it easy to work him up into a state.

He gasped at Dan's hands grabbing his hips and roughly pushing him up against the edge of the table. Dan shoved Herbert's pants down and made no further preamble before slicking his fingers up and pushing them inside him. Herbert bit his lip as Dan made quick work of stretching him out, pumping in and out of him. He usually liked to take his time with this part, kissing Herbert's neck or sucking him off while he did it, but that anger Herbert had lit against his fuse seemed to be burning hot, urging him to get right to it.

"You're such an asshole," Dan bit out, three fingers deep in Herbert.

"And yet," Herbert panted, pushing his ass back against Dan's hand, "you're the one who came to me."

"Yeah, and I question myself why after every time," Dan grunted, pulling his hand free. There was the sound of skin slopping against wet skin, and Herbert relished in the mental image of Dan slicking up his hard cock. "There must be something wrong with me."

"There is," Herbert said, his breath hitching as he felt the head of Dan's cock rub against his entrance. "It's why I like you so much."

Dan thrusted into him in one clean stroke, sending Herbert scrabbling at the table, his blunt nails scraping against the smooth wood. He let out a choked noise as Dan began moving, fucking him hard and fast. Pencils rattled across the tabletop and Herbert's stomach was pressed painfully tight against the hard lip of wood, but his eyes rolled back in his head regardless. He braced his elbows on the table and kept steady as Dan continued to pound into him.

He could feel the zipper of Dan's pants brushing against the back of his thighs from where they were shoved below his hips. His fingers were digging into Herbert's hips so hard he was sure they'd leave bruises. This just turned Herbert on more and he let out a cry at a particularly sharp snap of Dan's hips.

"More," Herbert gasped, ducking his head between his shoulders.

"Jesus," Dan cursed, sounding winded. "You're crazy."

"Just do it," Herbert hissed. "This is about the only thing you're- ah!- good for, anyway."

Dan let out a wordless yell of outrage before planting a hand between Herbert's shoulder blades and shoving him down on the table. The roll of his hips became erratic, thrusting out of the blinding pace Dan had set and settling for fucking Herbert in single, spine-tingling thrusts. The grunts Dan let out behind him were deep and animalistic.

Yes, Herbert thought gleefully, his mind so pumped full of endorphins, his brain felt like sex-addled soup sloshing around in his skull. Take me. Fuck me like an animal. Fuck me until I can't walk and you have to carry me away.

"Yes," was all Herbert said aloud. "Yes, Danny, yes."

Dan made a high, broken whine behind him as he buried himself to the hilt inside him and came. Herbert fumbled to reach beneath the edge of the table to grasp his own cock. With a few quick pumps he was coming too, moaning into the wood, one of his notes squished beneath his cheek. Dan slumped over behind him, molding his chest to Herbert's back and pressing his forehead into Herbert's shoulder. His long, heavy breaths puffed against Herbert's skin, leaving the spot wet and hot.

After a minute, Dan peeled himself away, his spent cock slipping out. Without his weight pressing against him and holding him up, Herbert's knees buckled and he had to catch himself against the table.

"Woah," Dan said, reaching out to catch Herbert by the arms and help steady him. When Herbert finally had his feet planted firmly beneath him and he was stood up, Dan tucked his chin over his shoulder and said into his ear, "You good?"

That was the thing about Dan. He never could hold onto his anger for long. It always fizzled out as quickly as it had flared up. Herbert smiled and reached up to pat Dan on the cheek.

"I'm just great. Though, the bedroom does sound nice right about now."

Dan snorted and pulled away to zip himself up. Herbert turned around, not even bothering to pull his pants up, and held his arms out to Dan like a little kid wanting to be picked up.

"Won't you carry me upstairs?" Herbert asked sweetly.

Dan just looked at him, with his pants around his knees, come dribbling down his thighs, and his soft cock hanging between his legs. His eyes flicked back up to Herbert's face and his mouth twisted into a wry smile.

"Carry yourself," he said, then was turning away and bounding up the stairs, leaving Herbert to glare after him.

#let's go bratty bottom herb #and thanks so much! glad youve enjoyed #herbert west #dan cain #danbert #re-animator #reanimator #my fics #asks #writing prompt #spice

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batsandbugs · 2 years

Text

Bruce Wayne’s Headache Classification System Chapter 3

IKEA Verse

A/N: The author shows up a month and a half late, with Starbucks: S'up, here's 7500 words of pure chaos. Feast! Y'all are the best, thank you for the amazing comments in the last chapter. I love seeing your excitement for this crazy little world I've created. I have a new fic that I'll be adding eventually, called: "The Stalking of Daminette: A Treatise by Steph and Cass" it's still in its baby stage, so we'll see how long that grows before I post. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it because I have not started on the next part and I'm moving in less than a month, so maybe the next chapter will be out sometime in October, but I'm not making any promises. Enjoy!

Chapter 3

Bruce narrows his eyes and pins his children with an unimpressed stare. “What did you do?

“He was totally willing!” Dick insists with an innocent grin.

“Coercion.”

“Manhandling.”

Dick’s grin disappears evilly side-eyeing his brothers. “Both of you suck at being back up.”

“He didn’t want to at first,” confesses Tim. “But they held my computer hostage to convince me to agree.” Tim rubs a hand over the top of his laptop in a soothing manner. “So, I stole all his knives so he couldn’t stab us, while Jason and Dick wrangled him into the car.”

“Little demon was spittin’ nails, but we persuaded him not to throw himself out the car, so he was trapped.”

“By the time we arrived, I convinced them how a game of hide-and-seek would be a fun, non-disastrous way to spend time together,” says Dick, his face one of ruined hopes and dreams.

“Mostly through bribes, blackmail, and calls to our innate competitiveness,” says Tim.

“Dickie kept the keys so none of us could leave, and declared himself seeker first,” Jason continues. “He found me-"

"In the food court," says Dick.

"Then Replacement-"

"At the Starbucks."

"Didn't even get to have that coffee," grumbles Tim.

"So we joined forces and decided to search for Damian together. We spent an hour chasing him in circles. Swear I almost caught him too.”

Tim scoffs, “Yeah no, he had us good. We had no clue where he was.”

Jason rolls his eyes. “Oh, shut up Tim.”

“You shut up,” Tim shoots back.

“Boys…” warns Bruce, already regretting bringing all three of them into this sitrep.

“Okay, so he evades us long enough to team up with a girl named Marinette Dupain-Cheng-” starts Tim.

Jason growls a bit. “Lying bitch.”

“Jason…” Dick sighs but doesn’t refute the insult. This only serves to deepen Bruce’s headache which now strongly veers out of the I-am-not-mentally-or-emotionally-prepared-for-this category and straight into Ongoing-dumpster-fire territory.

This was fine.

Jason slams a fist on the table. “She lied to my face multiple times! She said she was hired to poison Tim and Damian in order to steal Tim’s phone and if I didn’t find them in time, they were gonna die from brain damage!”

Bruce blinks. Did he hear that right? “Sorry, what?”

Tim sighs. “Okay, rewind, so Damian evading us like the little assassin he trained to be, hooks up with Marinette, who, as far as my research shows, is a civilian-”

“Yeah right, girlie ain’t a civilian. No way, not in a million years.”

“Shut up Jason, let Tim talk,” snaps Dick.

“She lied to Jason about where Damian was, and between her initial meeting with Jason and the incident in the food court, about an hour passed. Then she appeared in the cafeteria with Damian’s card, how we tracked her there in the first place. She panicked when she saw us and used her magic on the shelves in the warehouse to cause a diversion-”

“She crushed a fucking forklift, and we got blamed and billed for it.”

‘How?’ Bruce thinks in despair. Not over the money, of course. They had more than enough to cover costs, just in the general sense of incredulity. One would think, after being Batman this long, it would inoculate Bruce from bewilderment at all types of situations.

It has not.

Tim shakes his head. “No, I proved we had nothing to do with that."

‘Oh well isn’t that grand?’

"Didn’t manage to pin anything on her either considering how much electrical interference occurred whenever she performed magic, but we don’t have to pay.”

“Magic doesn’t cause electrical interference,” Bruce reminds them. “Not unless it completely breaks the system in the process.” All three boys – men really, his kids all grown up now, even if they pulled stupid shit like this – turn to him. Identical expressions of contemplation played over their faces.

“Shit, you’re right,” mutters Dick.

“Well, her magic does,” counters Tim, his brow creasing heavily, grasping past the sleepy, foggy haze that comes with being awake for three days straight. Grabbing a notepad he jots down the observation. “Her magic doesn’t obey any rules we know to be true.”

“It’s magic, dumbass,” Jason sneers. “It doesn’t have to make sense. I’m still on the fence about whether she enchanted Damian though. On one hand, demon-spawn shouldn’t be capable of smiling that much, and he defended her, deferred to her, fucking used her first name without blinking an eye. That ain’t natural for him. On the other hand, she’s the same brand of demented as he is, and maybe they want to be horrible little demons together.”

“I…” starts Dick before trailing off, his face flickers through a series of emotions. Mostly fragile hope, pragmatic disbelief, and good heaping of uncertainty.

“See, Golden Boy, even you can’t say this is a good thing!”

“He made a friend?” Dick offers with a pained wince.

“She’s a psychopath!”

Bruce cuts off the argument. As much as he would love to hear more in-depth detail about Damian’s newest… acquaintance, he wants a clearer picture of what happened at the store before he judges the situation. “Boys, behave. Tim, please continue.”

Tim nods. “Okay, so Marinette escapes the warehouse, and we track her back to their entry point into the vent system. We split up to cover more ground, I take the warehouse and keep myself from the worker’s sight but close enough to the vent I could spot them exiting. About forty-five minutes later they set me on fire-��

“Wait,” interrupts Bruce. “Fire? FIRE?”

Tim looks at him like he’s being particularly slow. “Uh, yeah, I said that a time or two now, keep up. To be fair, the fire was more around me. But I did end up singed.” He shows his arm sleeve again, and the singeing on the sleeve takes on a whole new meaning.

“I wasn’t sure what happened at the time, I expected to catch the little twerps, not engage in guerilla warfare. So, understandably, I’m off my game. The security guard dragged me into the office, and I’m ready to call for backup, only to find my phone missing. I talk down the manager in the warehouse, but then he yells at these poor workers. And Bruce, they were kids, couldn’t be more than fifteen, working in this busy warehouse with no clue about any rights they had, and then after the manager became… distracted I conversed with the other workers, and-”

Tim’s one-breath ramble was swiftly cut off by Jason. “Yeah, yeah you caused a worker’s strike through the power of charisma and rhetoric. So original. No one else in the world’s history has ever done that. Can we get back to the French bitch tricking me?”

Tim huffs, crossing his arms. “You can continue then because I wasn’t part of that.”

“Cool, I will. So, there I wait at my post, and it’s been like an hour and a half at this point. Timmy finally calls, but it’s not actually him it’s the French girl. She’s actin’ like a paid assassin slash company spy, and says she poisoned Tim and Damian through tricking them into eatin’ poisoned coffee and shit.”

“And you believed that?” Bruce asks. Jason glares at him with piercing green-blue eyes, and although his second son puts off an air of anger and annoyance, it’s a mask for a deep-seated fear that his brothers were genuinely in danger. That he would be too slow, too late to save them, like what happened to-

Jason flippantly shrugs his shoulders, years of practiced reticence covering his care. “With our craptastic luck, I sure as hell wasn’t going to take any chances. So, I go chasin’ and-”

“~It’s a trap~,” Tim gloats in a sing-songy voice, his grin wide and eyes unfocused. He’s going to crash soon, it’s just a matter of time.

“Shut up, you ended up set on fire and pickpocketed. You have no leg to stand on.” Tim rolls his eyes but slouches back in his chair. “So, it’s a trap, and demon-spawn is waitin’ there with one of those tricked-out trip wires Timmy made. He and Frenchie wrapped me up good, taunted me, and stripped me taking my wallet and phone. Bitch also took my knife. I insult the brat, and he fires back, but before he does anything else Marinette pulls him back and tells him to simmer down and he does.” Jason’s wide eyes drip with incredulity and, quite frankly, a little awe.

“I see,” Bruce says, a fake calm surrounding his words. He really didn’t. They were talking about Damian. Bruce loves his only biological son, he truly does. He loves Damian’s sketches, and care for animals, he loves his dedication to sword mastery and sly humor. The way his son has the same wrinkle crease between his eyes Bruce gets, and that Thomas did before them. The similarity soothes a small part of Bruce’s aching soul. He’s ridiculously proud of all the work and effort Damian went through, put himself through, to become a better person. To overcome the trauma his upbringing caused and come out stronger.

That being said, Damian was still arrogant, stubborn, and quick-tempered. He considered his opinions and plans more highly than others, and unless one could give a quick and compelling explanation as to an alternative option, he would be proceeding with his plan with efficiency; damn anything else standing in his way. Damian spared no sympathy to the average person and even less for fools.

This behavior was extremely out of character for him.

Which made the entire situation ring with alarm.

Jason shook his head. “I don’t think you do,” he says, calling Bruce’s lie out. “You’re gonna need to see it to really understand. Anyway, they leave me there for the police to find me, and the wire’s wound on tight, so I’m still struggling to get them off when security finds me ten minutes later.” Jason smirks. “Now those idiots had no clue who they were dealing with, and they loosened the wire round my legs, cause they sure as hell couldn’t carry me. By the time we reached the car I was out of the bonds and knocked one out and escaped from the other. Fat-ass bastard.”

“Language,” Bruce reminds him. Jason flips him off.

“Fine, the heavy-set bastard. Better?”

Bruce sighs. “Not really.”

“I scale the building, figuring the store entrances would be monitored. They had a nice handy dandy human-sized ventilation shaft up there - no wonder with the place’s fucking size - so, I shimmy down-”

“Like Santa,” Tim giggles, well past bordering on a manic state, and instead moved well into the capital of it.

The comment doesn’t appear to have fazed Jason though, who takes another long sip of his alcohol-soda mixture. “And like Santa, I have a knack for toys. I emerge out of a vent in the children’s toy area and snag myself a nerf gun.”

Sharp pain blooms on the side of Bruce’s neck. He doesn’t let it show on his face though. “Why?”

“Seemed like a good at the time, ya know?”

Bruce mentally counts to ten, takes a deep breath, and says, “Sure.”

“So, I head towards the play area to find Dick, because obviously, Replacement was a lost cause.”

“Geeze thanks, Jason.”

“But before I can get there, I spot Demon Spawn constructin’ a wacky ass Rube Goldberg contraption-”

Dick winces. “I saw the remains when I chased after Marinette. It was initially meant for me.”

“You were chasing the girl?”

Dick pouts. “She stole my phone!”

“Wait, so a civilian pickpocketed all of you?”

“She was quick,” mutters Tim.

Jason raises a finger. “She didn’t technically pickpocket me, she frisked me after tying me up. I was fully aware of the stealing.”

Bruce reminds himself that he can’t strangle his children. He. Can’t. Strangle. His. Children. “I plan to make all of you go through awareness training, again. A civilian!?”

“Still not convinced,” Jason mutters, crossing his arms.

“I don’t care she certainly hasn’t trained with assassins and spent half her life mastering stealth and deception. I expect better from you all.” All three men mutter in acquiescence, to the extent that they would do better. “Continue.”

Jason’s demureness fades to be replaced with a gleeful grin. “Yeah, there wasn’t much left of the trap after I jumped the little bastard. I started shooting-”

“Jason…” Bruce’s headaches gain a specific twinge of exhaustion whenever Jason becomes involved. It’s a talent he possessed since the day Bruce found him hi-jacking the Batmobile’s tires.

Jason’s hands go up in defense. “With the nerf gun, chill Bruce I ain’t trying to contribute to America’s public shooting crisis. I wouldn’t take a loaded gun into a shopin’ center unless crazies were already causin’ chaos.”

“I’d prefer you not to use guns at all.” It’s a pointless request, but maybe one day Jason would cede to it.

Jason scoffs. “Yeah, you’re still gunna lose that one pops. I got a rep to maintain.”

Bruce reigns in a sigh. Expected.

“Anyway, everythin’ was fine, I’d managed to dismantle their little trap for ya, you’re welcome,” he says with a pointed glance at Dick.

His eldest crosses his arms, and with a total deadpan stare, replies, “Thanks, Jason.”

“But then a security guard interfered after I knocked down a display or two.”

“So, you strung him up and gagged him?” Dick asks voice rising into the hysterical range.

Bruce now understands why Tim looks exhausted, dealing with the fallout from a situation this unhinged for the past forty-eight hours.

“No, I didn’t do that. Demon spawn already set the rig, waitin’ for you. The guard tripped it.” He pauses, cheese-covered chip in hand. “Although I did add the gag, he was shoutin’ too much and grabbin’ attention. It only took a second, but by the time I turned back, Damian had shot off like a rocket.”

“Don’t take your eyes off the target,” chides Tim, with a smug little grin.

Jason’s eyes flash a brighter shade of green. “Fire.”

“Shut up.”

“Boys…” Bruce warns.

“Fine, fine,” Jason mutters, as he takes another sip of his drink. “I chase him through the store and he’s barely keepin’ ahead of me. I keep shootin’ at him. Newer nerf guns have a range and a surprising amount of ammo. Bastard didn't even look inconvenienced; he takes a fucking phone call at one point.”

“That was when I was chasing Marinette and we found the remains of their plan,” Dick interrupts. “She panicked with the sprung trap and called someone, but I couldn’t hear a word.”

“Yeah, he jumps off the call when I manage a shot at his head, and I’m close enough to have him in reach. Unfortunately, he ducked into the employee-only entrance. We weave through security rooms and offices and shit, and of course, causin’ chaos there.”

“He was right there, and yet somehow, we’re the only ones banned,” mutters Tim.

Jason scoffs. “Yeah, don’t know how that happened. Pretty sure I saw him dump a pot of coffee on-” Tim groans in frazzled distress. “Bad Timbo, you can’t have any more caffeine until you take a goddamn nap!”

Tim slouches into the solid wood dining chair. “You can’t tell me what to do, you’re not my dad.”

“Tim you can’t have any more caffeine until you sleep,” Bruce says.

Jason grins, sticking his tongue out at Tim, while Tim only glares and mutters something under his breath about ‘killjoys’ and ‘he’ll show them tired’ and Bruce really doesn’t want to see the result of that decision. This needs to wrap up soon. For both Tim’s sake, and his own as his headache has moved from Hassles-have-evolved-into-ongoing-dumpster-fires to Information-overload-caused by-dumbass-decisions-please-reboot-system.

“I get tangled in an office jam – literally, there were cords involved and by the time I scramble out of it, Damian’s already through a door and down a hallway. I haven’t a clue which way he’s gone, so I pick a direction and gun it because security is on my tail and there ain’t time to waste. I head down a hallway and lock the doors behind me to give me a second of breathing room. Then I spot the intercom system.”

“I wondered how you got close enough to use that,” Dick muses.

“I wondered what they did to piss you off so bad,” Tim adds.

Dick nods. “Same.”

“Yeah, so I call out Demon Spawn and French Bitch over the intercom, and I know they both must have panicked, but the guards broke through the locked doors, so I split. Now here’s the fucking miracle.” Jason leans forward, grinning. “I find the door that’ll take me back to the showroom area, the guards bearing down on me from all four sides. I don’t have a chance in hell, when the lights go off.”

“Blackout?” questions Bruce.

“Magic,” Dick says flatly. “It was Marinette.”

Jason slaps the table, snarling, “Damnit! Now I have to give credit to her.”

“She knocked out electricity to the whole store,” says Tim.

“And caused a display to collapse in front of me. I tripped,” admits Dick.

“You have fought off assassins while poisoned, and executed advanced acrobatic maneuvers with broken bones, and you tripped over a toppled Swedish store display because of the dark?” Bruce knows he’s trained his children better. Why in the world did this go so sideways on them?

Dick braces his arms against the table and roughly slides his fingers through his hair. ”I know. I know. I was right there. Any other day and I wouldn’t have blinked about jumping right over it, but this time it felt… off. Bad day?”

“You’re getting old Golden Boy.” Jason takes a sip of his drink, doing nothing to hide his shit-eating grin as he teases his older brother. “I guess it’s all downhill from here ain’t it.”

Dick flips him off.

Jason sticks out his tongue.

Bruce’s headache takes on a twinge of my-children-are-immature-brats feeling (generally categorized by a sharp sting right at his temple) and holds in an exasperated sigh.

“So, after magic girl shuts the lights off with her mind or whatever, I escape the security guards by an inch. One emergency exit later, and I’m back in the store proper. People are freakin’ the fuck out about the lights. By the time they turn on again, I’ve lost Damian for good, and now I just try to stay off security’s radar. I settle in a nice little blind spot right outside the children’s toy area and keep myself out of any trouble.” Jason looks over at Dick, fighting to keep a smug grin off his face. “Course I did see a woman go off on a poor employee. I kept my nose clean of it ‘cause it wasn’t my business.”

“Oh, ha, ha very funny. That woman was a menace,” groans Dick.

“Woman?” Bruce questions, almost scared to ask.

“Jessica Merope-Laverne, fifty-five, resident of Pleasantville. Married twice, has two children, a restraining order, and a police file with multiple notes about disturbing the peace,” Tim rattles off. “Thoroughly unpleasant.”

“That’s an understatement,” mutters Dick.

“Practically dragged Dickie Bird away by the ear.”

“Right as I was about to nab Marinette too. She’d hidden in one of the wardrobes in the room, and I was this close-” Dick positions his fingers scant centimeters apart from each other, “-to cornering her, and I got dragged away.”

“Shit, would have loved to know that,” mutters Jason. “Anyway, I stood around, making sure nobody was on my tail, soon I heard rumors about a ruckus in the atrium-”

“That would be me,” Tim admits with a grin.

“Well, I didn’t know that. I was hoping demon spawn and Frenchie were involved somehow, so I headed over, and then-”

“Oh, I know what happened from there. I saw the video.” Bruce pins Tim and Jason with a stare. “I respect both of you have opinions-”

“Opinions? Opinions? I have justified grounds for calling out his revolutionary bullshit! His entire life embodies nothing but the anthesis of systemic poverty, and he argues for class cooperation!” shouts Jason. Bruce always marvels at how eloquent Jason becomes when angry.

“Violence isn’t the answer,” counters Tim. “You would harm the very people you try to uplift in the process.”

“Sure, it is! It’s the natural response to a gluttonous, greedy, overburdened, bureaucratic system that’s leeching off the populous and perpetuating its own supremacy.”

Tim slams a hand against the table, raising to his feet, exhaustion clearing from his eyes. “It’s an option, not the option. We can do better than violence if we work at the cause's root problem without pulling out a fucking guillotine.”

Jason rolls his eyes. “Oh of course you would argue for that, you’ve never had less than six figures in your bank account in your life.”

“So says the self-proclaimed drug lord!”

“That was ten years ago!”

“A bag of heads on the steps of the GCPD!”

“Oh, get over it!”

“If it matters,” interjects Dick. “Probably doesn’t, systemic economic issues are hard to fix when we have bigger problems like an actively insane criminal population that likes destroying important city infrastructure on a monthly basis.”

“Which Wayne Enterprises does its best to counter,” adds Bruce, not bothering to chide his children back on track. This particular topic turned them into a bunch of unherdable cats.

“Funneling more money into the one percent’s hands!” Jason’s bordering on manic at this point.

“We are the one percent, Jason!” counters Tim. “And we stay that way, despite the copious amount of infrastructure projects, that we hire Gotham citizens for, and pay at least a living wage to all of them. Not to mention every other single employee we hire who also are paid a living wage, with benefits, and support. I know I am privileged. I am trying here.” The last sentence came out as a distraught cry, as he collapses back into his chair.

“Are… are you okay?” Dick asks tentatively, ready to cross the table to comfort his brother.

Tim shoves his hands into his hair and mutters, “I need an espresso.”

“No, you need sleep,” says Bruce, mentally calculating where all the caffeine in the house is so he can hide it. “Can we return to the recap, so your brother can go to bed?”

“My side of things is much shorter in comparison to Jason’s,” says Dick. “As long as nobody interrupts.” Casting a pointed glare in Jason’s direction. Jason shrugs casually and crosses his arms.

“I waited at the children’s play area. Now, a man my age would attract attention without a need to be there, so I’d ducked into the employee-only area, and grabbed a shirt to disguise myself. I hung out in the Starbucks for a good forty-five minutes trying to look like I was on break while observing the play area. Although I couldn’t tell where the vent entrance was, I figured two adults Damian and Marinette’s size would be easy to spot coming out of an area meant for children.

“When an hour and a half passed by, I’m nervous, because neither Jason nor Tim has sent any word. I called them both. They didn’t answer.”

“Yeah, 'cause the French phone napper took our phones,” mutters Jason.

“So, I decided to do some reconnaissance. The lady at the front desk looked bored enough, and so I went over to… chat.”

Jason rolls his eyes. “You mean flirt.”

Dick glares. “Shut up. So, I hang around the front desk for half an hour at most, before the kids went crazy. Like plastic balls being thrown everywhere, kids shrieking, this one little girl, later we learn her name is Abby, she’s doing this whole speech about a revolution-”

“Tim…”

“Not me, I’m not here at this point.”

“I stand there in shock, wondering what the heck set it all off. This one little girl runs up to the daycare worker, Melinda? Melody? Something. I don’t remember. And the little girl’s nose was bleeding, so there immediately goes my peaceful cover. I back up into the crowd, which at this point has gathered around pretty thick.”

“You know I wondered why there were so many people hanging around in that front lobby area,” says Tim.

“I’m almost sure the commotion has something to do with Marinette and Damian, so I keep my eyes peeled waiting for any adult-sized figures to emerge from the play area.” Dick sighs, rubbing a hand across his face. “I was right of course, but I missed Marinette slipping out, and she approached me from behind.”

“This is where you get pickpocketed too!” crows Jason.

“Really, Richard?” asks Bruce with a raised brow. This is ridiculous.

“Okay, look, I was distracted, off my game, there was a ton of screeching, and it had been a long day. And she was very good. The technique was flawless, minus a bit of overacting and a touch of obviousness. Which was her goal because-”

“~It was a trap~” Jason and Tim sing together.

“It was bait,” Dick corrects. “Leading me to a trap, that didn’t even work. So really, I did the best between the three of us.”

“You all will complete remedial awareness training, so a situation like this never happens again.” Bruce massages the bridge of his nose with a long-suffering sigh. “Just… just please continue.”

“I can’t full-out chase her or anything, but she keeps out of reach through the store, until we reach the place where they set the trap. Obviously, Jason already tripped it, so she turned face and ran in the opposite direction. I followed, trying to convince her to stop and talk. But at this point, she’s full-on outpacing me and doing well too. I’m hesitant to say trained, but she had practice.”

“She’s gotta be a spy, or maybe she’s working for the League?” muses Jason.

“Damian would see right through that,” interrupts Bruce. He knows his youngest son has an instinct when sniffing out undercover League members. Talia certainly sent enough of them over the years.

“Maybe she’s just that good?” says Tim. “I certainly can’t find a damn thing on her, and being a League plant would explain that.”

Dick shrugs. “We’ll figure out her deal later. She calls Damian, and they talk briefly, but I couldn’t hear the conversation. Soon after Jason does his whole intercom takeover Marinette pulls out her little magic electro bursts and short circuits the electricity to the entire store.”

“And then caused you to trip.”

Dick wearily nods. “And then caused me to trip. By the time I detangle myself, she’s long gone. The lights come back on, and I’m stuck wondering where the hell she’s gone. I try to avoid getting clocked by security, so I keep to blind spots, which is how I eventually spot her doing the same.”

“Suspicious,” mutters Tim. “More evidence for the ‘League plant’ theory.”

“Or she could know security is looking for a woman of her description and she’s smart, either way, I tail her and corner her in a display room, no idea why she chose that one, but when I walk in it’s empty.”

“She teleported, or vanished like a ninja,” gasps Tim, eyes wide, pupils smaller than pinpricks. Bruce is now counting the seconds until he passes out.

Dick shakes his head. “No, she hid in the fucking closet. Tim, you need sleep.” Tim sticks out his tongue.

“I was this-” Dick places his fingers centimeters away from each other “-close to nabbing her, and then the whole Jessica situation happened.” He rubs a hand through already messed up, fly-away hair. “She drags me away screeching about lawyers and customer service, and it had been a very long day, so the second her back was turned I bolted. I couldn’t risk heading back to the display room, although if I were Marinette I’d be long gone, so I backtracked to where I stuffed my actual clothes and headed towards the atrium.”

“Yes, I saw your arrival as well,” Bruce confirms with an exasperated drawl. The videos spread out across multiple platforms gave an all-around idea of what happened in the atrium. “You all know better than to escalate things in public. We have an image to maintain after all." The boys nod, cowed and guilty. "That being said, things wrapped up rather neatly.” He eyes the boys with a paranoid weariness. “Too neatly.”

All three sag into their seats and gaze at each other with sheepish grimaces.

“Yeah, B, we noticed that too,” says Jason. “But at the time…” he trails off.

Tim continues, his speech sluggish. “It felt normal, to accept what was going on. The fight, the crazy lady, the little kid with the ball pit balls, her uncle being Dick’s old friend, and the store manager, and they let us go. It was easy to go along with it.” Grimacing, he gestures to his assorted piles of papers. “You know, besides for all the work I have now.” Crossing his arms on the table he lays his head in the middle. “Too many people, so little sense.”

“Damian hasn’t said a word about any of it.” Dick slouches lower in his chair.

“Kid was all smirks when he and the little liar approached us after we left the store,” grumbles Jason. "Had fuckin' ice cream and everything." He spins the almost empty bottle of alcohol coke on the table. “Of course, they made us wait, because after we left and booked it to the car, Dickie realizes his keys are gone too. So there we are standin' in the parking lot, Timmy doesn't have his shoes, and all we got between us is one nerf gun, no phones, no keys, and no fucks left to give.” Bruce, too tired from the absolute rollercoaster of emotions and information his children just sent him on, can do nothing but muster up a stern and disappointed glare. He trained them all better than to let a civilian pull one over on not just one of them, but all of them.

“Yeah, yeah, I know situational awareness. We’ll work on-” Dick breaks off his sentence, and sighs softly. A small soft smile overtakes his face, and he raises a single finger to his mouth. He nods in Tim’s direction.

Tim’s head, previously cradled in his arms, now lolls to the side. Neon blue light from his laptop highlighted his closed eyes, and the purplish bags underneath.

“Finally,” Jason mutters. “I swear he has the survival instincts of a wet paper bag. He’s been up for way too long.”

Bruce is just grateful he won't need to physically drag Tim off to bed and force him to get some desperately needed sleep. “Now we just need to get him to his room.” He would have done it himself if his ribs didn’t spasm the second he thought of the idea.

“Not it,” Dick whispers so quickly it’s practically a rush of air.

“Not it,” says Jason, barely a millisecond behind.

“Ha!” Dick impishly grins. “You do it.”

“But-”

“Nope, I said it first. You got to carry him.”

Jason turns his head towards Bruce, big bluish-green eyes looking for support.

Bruce doesn’t get himself involved in the decision-making games his children play. “He said it first.”

Jason’s hopeful glance turns into a disgruntled snarl. “I hate both of you,” he spits.

“Love ya too, Jay.”

“Thank you, Jason.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he mutters, wrinkling his nose. Jason pushes back his chair, and although he’s annoyed, the solid wood chair doesn’t scrape against the floor, so he can’t be too mad. Despite drinking his entire liter of mystery-alcohol-diet-coke mixture, his footsteps pace steady and strong. “Come here, ya little coffee-addicted gremlin.” Jason slips his arms around Tim’s body. It’s a testament to how exhausted his son must be, that Tim only flutters his eyes and protests incoherently at being lifted out of his chair.

“Quiet down, Replacement,” Jason murmurs, his voice soft as he speaks to his sleep-deprived brother. “All your calls and research will be there when you return from the land of nod.”

“But…”

“You can go willingly, or I can grab sedatives from the med bay and forcefully put your ass to sleep. I’ll put a bet on who’ll win that brawl.” Jason stands a good six inches taller than Tim, who looks like little more than a bedraggled rag doll in his older brother’s arms. Bruce knew who would win that fight too. Tim sighs and relaxes another inch into Jason’s arms. “There ya go. You can go back to bein’ insufferable once you’ve had some fucking sleep.”

“Hmm…” Tim's eyes fully flutter shut. Jason shakes his head and rolls his eyes, but softly traverses the room so as to not jostle him. Looking back over his shoulder one last time to shoot an I-can’t-believe-I’m-doing-this look at Bruce and Dick, before walking out of the room.

Silence overtakes the grand dining room as the last of Jason’s footsteps fades into the echoing halls of Wayne Manor. A light rain drizzles outside, the faintest patter hitting the tall arched windows letting in a soft grey light.

Dicks groans, pulling himself out of his slouch gracefully and into more of a respectable position. “I’m getting too old for that.”

“If you’re old, I must be ancient,” Bruce responds. He’s not, really. Only forty-seven to Dick’s thirty-two. What he’d been thinking taking in a ten-year-old at twenty-five, he couldn’t really quite say. The only thing that mattered at the time was the aching echo of loneliness reflected in the eyes of a child who had just lost their parents.

Now, look at them, all these years later.

“Nah, you’re not ancient, B. We’ve just been through enough shit in our lives to age a person twenty times over.”

Bruce gives him a look of high disappointment. “Stunts like this do not help, Richard.”

Dick has the decency to look properly ashamed. “I really didn’t mean for the situation to get so out of hand,” Dick insists in a soft, quiet tone. Bruce doesn’t quite believe it. His sons thrive off of chaos. Even if they didn’t mean for things to get out of hand, they tended to actively encourage it once in the middle of the undertow. “I know, I know, but how was I supposed to anticipate Damian teaming up with a… witch? Magician? Whatever she is.” Dick mutters the last sentence, but Bruce hears it clearly.

His sons certainly think the young woman is dangerous. Tim is thoroughly confused and stressed by her existence, although deciphering his third son’s emotions through his fog of exhaustion is a vexing endeavor Bruce still isn’t sure he accomplishes all the time. Jason clearly hates her or at least is holding a very large, very deep grudge against her. He wonders what exactly the content of the conversation was when she threatened Tim and Damian. He wonders if she knew the effect it would have on Jason.

Flickering light from the chandelier above pierces his eyes like a particularly vicious game of stab-the-vigilante, but this conversation is important, so, despite the full body ache accompanying his you’ve-pushed-too-far-and-now-you’ll-suffer-the-consequences migraine, he pushes through to ask, “What do we actually know about her?”

Dick sighs heavily, rubbing a hand across his face, and suddenly he looks every inch of his thirty-two years. “To be honest? Only a little. Tim wasn’t the only one to look her up. I did my searching too.”

“And?”

“Practically nothing. Basic info, but school records sealed tighter than Fort Knox, and firewalls grow tighter every time I try to hack ‘em. School activities, online media presence, and even pictures; all of it is whisps in the wind. Every time I try to look deeper, something...” Dick shudders as if shaking away a bad feeling. “I come up short and I can’t find a reason why. Even trying to think about Paris as a whole feels off and I can’t put my finger on it.”

“I can see if there’s anything in the League’s database about the city the past few years. It was Diana’s home base for decades until…” Bruce trails off, his mind an unexpected blank. Diana moved to the US from Paris eventually. Sometime within the last decade, but he can’t quite remember why. Surely, she must have told him at some point.

“She’s a fashion designer, I know that much. She has a website but it’s very bare bones. Commission work only. And her current course of study at Gotham U is Fashion and Business Management. But-” Dick’s hands flail into the air. “She’s from Paris! What on earth possessed her from moving from one of the fashion capitals of the world to here, to study fashion is beyond me.”

“Hmmm…” Bruce’s brain whirls at a million miles a minute. Connections forming and rearranging on his mind’s case board. The incongruency is so stark, there must be a reason. They haven’t found it yet.

“As for her magic…” Dick shrugs. “She said her powers mostly affected situational outcomes, and from the incidents I saw, she told the truth. But I’ve never seen magic like that before. Magic that just… happens. She didn’t say words, she didn’t make hand gestures. She used tiny little - I want to call them mechanized balls, but we never came close enough to tell – to kickstart the magic.”

“A techno-mage then?”

Dick contemplates the idea for a moment before saying, “Could be. But it felt more than that. As soon as she became involved the whole day felt… left of normal. Which I suppose aligns with situational outcome manipulation. The day certainly went their way…” Dick shrugs. “I just don’t know.”

Bruce hums, finally asking the question that had swirled in his mind since the girl was brought up. “Do you think she’s a danger?”

Dick leans back in the chair, his face an avalanche of flickering emotions. Wind lightly howled outside the dining hall filling the intervening silence. Finally, he sighs and says, “No, I don’t think so. She was chaotic sure but genuinely enjoyed the game for what it was. Damian probably encouraged the more unhinged ideas. And yes, she has magic, but so do a ton of other, far more obviously dangerous people. Our system is tricked out for all types of magic users, and even if she can bypass them due to her own unique magic, we’d at least receive a warning. And as for our identities…” Dick half-smiles. “She didn’t even know we were the ‘Waynes’ until we were just about to leave, and she didn’t appear particularly star-struck. I doubt she’d make the jump from chaotic billionaire’s kids to vigilantes.”

“As for Damian…?” Bruce hardly knows what to make of his youngest’s out-of-character reaction and hopes to receive some cohesive read on the situation from his eldest.

Dick, being quite unhelpful, shrugs. “I think you should talk to him. Get his side of the story. Things may have been chaotic on our end, but he did genuinely have fun. And, yes, he’s acting out of the norm.” Dick pauses. “Way, way, out of the norm for him, but I don’t think he’s enchanted. I think he just has a crush.”

Bruce blinks. Isn’t that a hell of a thought?

Damian.

With a crush.

He doesn’t have the bandwidth to deal with these kinds of realities. Reflexively he massages his temple with the tips of his fingers trying to relieve the paining, aching pressure.

“Headache again?” asks Dick with sympathy. After twenty years his son knows his tells well, and Bruce has always had headaches, although his reasons for having them have certainly increased over the years.

“Yeah, is what it is though. We’ll keep an eye on Damian, have you run him through the influence-affected protocols?”

“Yeah.”

“And?”

Dick shrugs. “Nothing, it’s mostly why I think he’s fine. She may be a danger, or powerful, but I don’t think she’s doing anything to Damian. Besides making him run up the data plan on his phone. He really hasn’t stopped texting the past two days.”

They’ve spent plenty of time talking about Damian, but Bruce hasn’t seen a glimpse of him since he woke up this morning. “Where is he?”

Dick pulls out his phone. “On a date, according to Stephanie.” Pulling up a photo that’s taken in a long-distance setting. Damian is pictured, seated at a cafe table, drinking out of a white coffee cup. Across from him sits a girl, Asiatic features, black hair, clad in a colorful sundress. They’re both smiling at each other.

It’s normal and adorable. And slightly worrying. Damian doesn’t smile like that unless looking at a fluffy four-legged creature.

“Stephanie trailed him?”

Dick flips the phone away. “Actually, she and Cass both followed him when he left this afternoon. Not sure what they planned, but they’ve sent some nice pictures.” He pauses for a moment and smiles fondly. “If she’s not a danger, or a League plant, this could be really good for him.”

Bruce hums, unsure, and hating himself for that unsurety. He’ll make a call when he has more information, and less of a migraine. “Go wash up and grab some sleep. I’m out until my ribs heal, so I’ll need you to take point on patrol.”

Rising from his chair, Dick stretches and shoots him a grin. “It took you twenty-five years, but damn, you’ve finally learned to call it quits when you need a break. Proud of you B.”

Bruce doesn’t bother to disguise his roll of the eyes. Dick would know he did it regardless. “Get on.”

Dick shoots him a lazy salute. “Sir, yes, sir.” He ambles to the door, and Bruce calls out again before he’s gone.

“And next time, Dick, please try to keep the antics out of the paper, and off the internet.”

The shit-eating grin betrays Dick’s real thoughts when he says, “Of course Bruce, won’t happen again.”

Liar.

Bruce shakes his head in reluctant bemusement – should he honestly have expected anything else – and Dick ducks out of the door without another word. Finally, the dining room is quiet, except for the pitter-patter of rain on the window panes, and the soft hum of Tim’s computer.

Carefully, Bruce rises from the chair, his side twinging, head throbbing in what is now a full-on migraine.

He should have stayed in bed.

Ah, well, he’s suffered worse, and now he has a good idea of what happened with his sons that caused a headache so insistent he felt it halfway across the galaxy.

Gently closing Tim’s laptop, he doesn’t bother to touch the articles and paper, knowing his son’s organizational system may appear a mess to outsiders – even him on occasion – but that it has meaning for him. He observes the rest of the room; collecting Tim’s coffee mugs, and Jason’s empty plate and coke bottle – no need to have Alfred do it if he was right here – and ambles slowly to the kitchen taking care not to drop the dishes or disturb his ribs.

Placing the dishes away, Bruce leans heavily on the counter. Mind whirling, analyzing, and connecting the information as he has always done, however, it battles for dominance over the present, persistent, migraine. His body screams for more rest, and as much as he wishes to dig to the bottom of these problems right now, he trusts Dick has given him an accurate read of the situation. Later he can pry information from the girls, maybe they’ll have a less biased view of Damian’s… friend than his sons do.

He flicks the lights off in the kitchen, for now though, he’s heading back to sleep.

-line break-

A nap, a full meal, and hours later, the pitch black of the night concealed a heavier storm than the light drizzle which draped over the manor earlier in the day. Bruce, knowing damn well he wasn’t fit for patrol, sat in his office, a bottle of forty-year whisky perched next to a crystalline tumbler and a box of chocolates. A minor indulgence, especially as he should stay far away from alcohol at the moment. But if he hadn’t died from insane nutcases, aliens, or his children’s antics, mixing medicine and alcohol probably wouldn’t kill him.

Bruce snapshots a picture of the newspaper Alfred gave him this morning.

The front-page cover contains enough of the story to showcase the significant amount of drama his children had caused.

He texts the images to both Diana and Clark.

All he adds is, ‘I always know, and I’m always right.’

He pours another finger of the amber liquid into his glass and swirls it around as the computer turns on. Just because he wasn’t out and about, didn’t mean he intended to take the night off. Bruce stretches his fingers and opens up a blank case file template.

Time to find out who exactly is Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

#maribat #damian x marinette #maridami #mlb crossover #daminette #damimari #marinette dupain cheng x damian wayne #ml x dc #marinette dupain-cheng x damian wayne #damientte #damianette #mlb x dc #the ikea verse #ikea verse #headache classification system #the great ikea game

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starchildrenofdustand-ashes · 6 months

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Cabaret at TheKit Kat Club Experience !!

So, I saw Cabaret at the Kit Kat Club at the Playhouse theatre on November 15 (11/15/2023) with Nic Myers as Sally and Jake Shears as Emcee.

Below the cut is where spoilers start lol: honestly the whole thing is super secretive- from the stage to the venue itself. So if you ever plan on seeing it live or have the opportunity to do so, you have been warned!

When you walk into the theatre there’s this awesome:

You will see before you descend the stairs; at the bottom of the stairs, they put a sticker on your phone :)

You’ll continue walking down the hall where the walls are white and covered with pictures all over of the actors past and present.

You probably pass some of the actors who are milling about, chatting, flirting, dancing playing instruments.

I was in the first row of the upper dress circle and god it’s tight up there. Definitely wish I’d payed a bit extra to be on the floor and to at least have room 😖

Also note; I don’t talk about Herr Schultz and Frauline Schneiderall that much in these notes, but that’s because their scenes are so sweet and straight forward. These two give you the Schneider and Schultz you’ve seen and you know you love; there’s nothing outlandish or left field that happens with these two like some of the choices with Sally and Emcee. The same can be said for Ernst and Cliff. Nothing wild has been changed with their characters. In fact, most of this will probably be me trying to decode the strange new take on the Emcee and The Kit Kat Club. Anyway! Here are my thoughts and stuff that stuck out to me!

(Also if you’ve seen this production with Eddie Redmayne or have listened to it and have a hypothesis— he makes this strange sound like he’s spitting? In a lot of the songs- I thought it maybe part of the orchestration, but I didn’t notice it with Jake Shears and chalked it up to Eddies character choices. So if you know what the sound is or can give me staging It would soothe my brain)

Willkomenn:

🍷 in Willkomenn, when the Emcee does his whole “comment ca va?, do you feel good” speil he paused after every time, as if to test what language the audience would respond to

🍷 He kept the “do you feel good- yeah I bet you do 😏” line even tho it wasn’t on the revival album🥹

🍷The way to tell Victor and Bobby apart is to lift their arm and stick your face in their armpits and take a big wiff. Bobby did not want his armpits sniffed and Emcee had to beg him

🍷 Bro I love Hermann; he was so stoic and dead inside- he just stood there and did the most basic version of what everyone was doing. He was also fully clothed lol

🍷When they sing the whisper verse, they were all posing in various positions and the Emcee crawled between their legs

Don’t Tell Mama:

🎀 When sally screams at the beginning, she was lying on her back throwing a tantrum

🎀 The Emcee is on stage for the final verse and he acts as Sally’s brother: when sally says the line, “if he squeals on me i squeal on him” they squeezed each others nipples

Perfectly Marvelous

💚When Cliff and Ernst are talking and Sally barges in, she’s wearing her coat, a beige and orange scarf, funky sunglasses and carrying a ton of luggage

💚at the end of Perfectly Marvelous, when Cliff says “besides I’ve only got one narrow bed,” the Emcee rises out of the circle in the center of the platform wearing the exact same thing as Sally: the coat the scarf and the glasses. Two Kit Kat Girls come up the same platform in a suitcase that looks just like the one Sally was carrying

💚 Nic Myers didn’t do an American accent

Two Ladies

👯‍♀️ The KitKatGirl who “makes thebed” puts on a hardware belt and does explicit things with a hammer while the other has a spatula. Or a whisk ,, The One That “Does The Cooking” goes behind Emcee and uses the whisk to “thrust” into him and when he says daily bread, she pulls out a baguette, she also fills out a whip lmao

👯‍♀️ During the instrumental break all the other Kit Kat Members come up through the stage wearing explicit things and doing explicit things to each other. The one that stood out the most to me was Helga jacking off to a copy of Mein Kampf— it was super chaotic and I don’t remember details

It Couldnt Please Me More:

🍍More often than not the sailor Kost was fucking was either Bobby or Hans- even referring to the former as such. Also, they refer to her as Fritzie explicitly so it’s cannon that Kost=Fritzie and not just an actress double casted.

🍍Before Kost runs into Schneider after letting Bobby out, Schultz is leaving Schneiders room and accidentally is trying to out her robe on instead of his jacket

Tomorrow Belongs to Me

* So Emcee comes on stage holding a box and is dressed in a robe and only a wig cap

* One by one, the member of the Kit Kat Klub put these dolls that are wearing brown suits with Blonde hair on the stage. They are standing militanty. very much providing Nazi imagery

* During the song, the figures go around the turn table while emcee is singing

* At the end of the song when he says the last line, he pulls out a blond wig and holds it in the spotlight

Money:

💸Money was the song I was most excited for because of the images I’d seen of the skeleton costume. I had a hard time figuring out why the skeleton, but it was cool nonetheless.

💸 the Emcee rises out of the middle of the floor, his clawed hands reaching out first.

💸 I watched Emcee legit drool on the stage (Groffsauce in Hamilton vibes) he was spitting those lines out so hard

💸 I don’t know how to interpret the staging of the song, the real star of the scene is the costumes, but I took it as the Emcee represented money? Everywhere he went the KitKat Girls followed, wailing and begging him and the surrounding audience for money.

TBTM (reprise )

* I mean. I feel like the staging for this song is always consistent and similar throughout all shows; the individuals singing with Cliff, Sally, Schultz and Sneider standing somberly. The emcee is usually eerily looking on and depending on the show is seemingly jubilant or looking wistful.

* In this, the Emcee rises out of the middle of the turn table wearing his outfit from money. He has a conductors stick and begins conducting them with a smile on his face.

* My sister said the Emcee is “If Art The Clown could talk” and Yeah, that’s pretty accurate. He goes form being the raunchy Emcee we’ve all come to love- I think the Emcee, no matter who plays him is kinda creepy, so the creepiness didn’t seem unusual- to an evil nazi

* But when we see him in money and onwards, he’s definitely giving Killer Clown- she was right, Art the Clown from Terrifier.

* The Art The Clown juxtaposition to when he appears bare faced during some songs was super interesting. It really feels like the idea of “The Nazi’s weren’t demons, they were people who did things we thought demons were only capable of,” and that’s what makes it terrifying. The clowning character is seen praising nazis and cheerfully conducting their songs- he really does seem like a force of evil that’s simply from hell. But then he talks off his makeup in the coming scenes and you’re reminding- he’s just a human who behaves like a demon and that’s terrifying-. Idk if I’m doing the best at explaining my analysis of this, but that’s what I was getting

Kickline

💃🏾The kickline is lively and the members of the Club are trying to hype up the audience before getting into formation

💃🏾They were all wearing red party hats so when the emcee comes on in his red Pierrot clown get up, he has the longest, pointed and most menacing looking hat.

💃🏾he also has a gun? Thing? He shoots a Nazi flag out of it

💃🏾 The Members of the club form a hakenkreuz shape around Emcee and he hand the flag to Bobby and they march off.

Married (reprise)

🧱 the scene before Married Sneider and Schultz are talking about the engagement. Emcee is slinking around the stage and he has something in his hands wrapped in a napkin. His movements remind me of a mime, or as Chelsea says, Art The Clown, the facial expressions with overdramatized emotion and fluidity

🧱 he slinks between Schultz’s and Sneider with a smile on his face and suddenly there’s a loud ass crash that makes- I shit you not- the entire theatre jump. The lights black out. When they rise back on, there is white confetti floating downward, to represent the broken glass

If You Could See Her

🦍Usually, the gorilla in this is dressed up and it looks more cartoonish, but to, this was just a straight up gorilla- (A really good costume) with absolutely no elements of humanity. No clothes, no slightly upturned mouth, no walking on two legs and absolutely no understand what was going on.

🦍The Emcee would address the Gorilla as if she was human, but she would only respond in an animalistic way like scratching her ass, sniffing Emcees ass or flat out ignoring him and doing her own thing.

🦍 The Emcee seemed to be back at his usually self- joking and less like a demonic force - he’s clowning and making the audience laugh and there’s the Jewish line at the end of the song (which?? I was kind of disappointed by. It didn’t give me shivers and I felt it was a bit rushed.) also people laughed, but it could’ve been a “I laugh at funerals bc it’s awkward,” and not because they actually found the situation funny. My sister hypothesized simple confusion for people who had no idea what was going on. I will agree that some of the Emcees choices are strange if you don’t know the plot/ haven’t read up on this revival before hand.

I Don’t Care Much:

🎙️ Next time Emcee is on stage he is wearing a brown suit and a blonde wig, no makeup on his face- he very much resembles the dolls that were placed on stage during TBTM

🎙️I don’t care much occurs after Sally and Cliff have an argument as usual. But after Cliff leaves Sally is getting dressed. She is putting on the same jacket and pants the Emcee is wearing

🎙️during the song the emcee is doing some weird puppet thing behind her and she’s mirroring the moves she’s doing. it was an interesting choice during this song, but I think it’s been my least favorite change. It was like she was on strings and he was controlling her. I guess it provided a good visual for the notion that the Emcee isn’t a person, rather a representation of the deteriorating culture of the the city as a whole.

🎙️ This song is good at humanizing the Emcee, especially in Alan Cummings revival; smeared makeup, track marks, slurred worlds and stilted motions. It really paints a picture of a human at the end of their rope. In this version it just solidifies that the emcee is the city of Berlin and the evils that are taking over (Which, goes in direct opposition to my previous theory on his costumes providing human- demon Nazi images but whatever I dont have the brain power to think harder about it)

🎙️ After this song Cliff gets beat up by Ernst. After the tussle, the nazi thugs are actually the members of the Kit Kat club, they are wearing the same coat as Sally and the Emcee. They finish Cliff off and take his coat away

Cabaret

🍷I mean. Damn. There’s not much to say here. Outstanding performance. Like there are performances from different actors on YouTube so you could watch those to see the blocking because it’s pretty much the same.

🍷 Nic Myers did an amazing job, I got full body chills

🍷 one critique I’ve heard is that it’s over directed and this song is the perfect example of it. As an actor and a director, I understand both sides,; I don’t see much individuality between the actors on YouTube vs Nic Myers because the staging is so specific. I will say, through my opera glasses, the emotion painted in her face couldn’t be replicated and I think that’s really where the nuances will lie- in their faces.

Finale

📸 The Emcee is back on the stage, in the same position as Willkomenn- it’s like this weird pose with his arms and legs bent (you can watch the Willkomenn performance in gram nortons show,, that’s the pose I’m talking about ((I’ve heard people say it’s supposed to look like a hakenkreuz ))the only difference is now he’s in his brown outfit with his blonde hair. Super eerie.

📸 All the characters are standing on the turn table and the Kit Kat Members are on the outer circle of the turn table wearing the same beige suit the emcee has on. The other characters are all wearing brown and there’s an eerie sense of uniformity.

📸 Then there’s the long ass drum roll as they continue to turn before the lights blackout.

#cabaret #cabaret west end #cabaret 2021 #cabaret at the kit kat club #eddie redmayne #jessie buckley #Jake shears #nic Myers #kander and ebb #cabaret revival #musical #cabaret musical #she reviews #my reviews

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chimeras-love · 10 months

Text

tear away at the mask

Pairing: Zack de la Rocha/GN!Reader

Summary: you go to zacks house after promising to help him with some songwriting, but soft glances and softer touches lead to feelings that spill over

Tags: Friends to Lovers, First Kiss, Making Out, No Use of [Y/N], Gender Neutral Reader (No Pronouns + Readers Appearance is Not Mentioned), Drabble, One-Shot

Warnings: Light Sexual Content

A/N: this takes place around the early years of RATM, in 1992 when zack is around 20-ish

Word Count: 2.5k (not kidding it's exactly 2,500 lmao)

"So, how was it?"

Zack sat on the living room floor of his studio apartment, surrounded by scattered wide-ruled paper hastily stacked into vaguely organized piles. Some completely filled with writing, others with a word or two that had apparently not been good enough to elicit anything more.

Nothing particularly out of the ordinary. It fit the character, added a bit more charm. The kind found in the graffiti-scrawled bathroom of a local music venue; where the beer tastes like piss, and people are packed into a 600 square foot room like sardines to a tin. In the living room, which by the nature of studios was also his bedroom, a CRT TV stood atop a weathered black shelf. The neck of an all white Jackson guitar leaned against it, strings uncut. CDs lined along the inside, sorted alphabetically by artist and chronologically by album. A few feet in front of it, a coffee table stacked with all types of memorabilia— tour posters that there simply wasn't any room for on the walls, a used plastic bag from the corner store down the street, and empty mugs and plates you'd both been periodically stacking throughout the day. His couch laid back against the wall.

Which is where you were. You sat adjacent to him, cross legged on the sofa, watching as he absentmindedly drummed his pencil on a legal pad. The lead made small dots where it landed. This page was one of the luckier ones; nearly full of his messy handwriting. Lyrics had been written—and rewritten—down as they came to him. Certain verses were circled while others underlined, some crossed out altogether. To anyone else it looked like jumbled nonsense, but it made sense to Zack (and you, to a certain extent).

"Hey," Zack called your name, waving his hand in front of your face.

"Huh?" You blinked, completely forgetting what he'd asked for a second. "Oh, it was good! I liked it."

"That's it?" Zack asked, a blank sort of 'are you serious' expression plastered on his face as he scanned over the paper. "Just liked it?"

"Hey, that's a good thing isn't it?"

"I need people to do more than 'like' my music, you know." His eyes stayed glued to the paper as he spoke.

"I, uh, loved it?"

Zack stopped, hung his head and smiled to himself.

"You're no help at all."

"Hey! You asked me to help, so it's kind of your fault."

It wasn't a lie. He'd invited you over earlier in the evening, when the sun first began to dip below the L.A. city skyline, and shadows elongated with every passing second. You liked to think of yourself as his personal editor, although truthfully you acted as more of a thesaurus. You didn't mind. You considered yourself lucky to see him in this state. Baggy tee and sweats, surrounded by a concoction of his own thoughts. Writing surged through his veins and kept him breathing, and he excelled at it. You'd seen enough of his shows to know. As if a switch flipped in his brain, his persona molded into one of a lyrical guerrilla.

Molded was the wrong word— molded implies copying something, participating in some semblance of meaningless idolatry. He hadn't molded himself into anything. He already was that ungovernable force, it just took a stage to coax it out.

"What time is it?" Zack asked.

"Almost two."

"Fuck me," he sighed and set down his pencil. He raised his arms above his head and stretched; his t-shirt raised with his movement. You caught a glimpse of the small bit of skin that exposed itself.

'How terrible,' you thought, 'falling for your best friend like this.'

Zack finished stretching, and you quickly averted your eyes. He paused for a second, and tilted his head slightly.

Fuck.

"I- uh, I think the song could use a bridge," you deflected.

"...A bridge?"

"Yeah, you know, something there to contrast the verses."

"I know what a bridge is." He picked his pencil back up. "I mean, where would I put it? The song is basically done. If I put it after one of the verses it'll fuck up the flow."

"Put it at the end...?" You replied, although the infliction of your voice made it into more of a question.

"So, the outro?"

"I don't know! Whatever you want to call it, I just feel like it could work." You waited for Zack to make some dry sarcastic quip, but he was back to his notes. You could've distracted him from a car crash with the way he got lost in music, especially his own.

His hands worked quickly. You couldn't make out what he was writing, but you could see they weren't full sentences. More like standalone words, and something near the bottom that seemed to repeat.

"Alright, what about this?" Zack handed the notepad to you.

You skimmed the page, and read the final stanza.

"All of which are American dreams," you whispered, nearly inaudibly.

You looked up at Zack. He folded his arms, hunched ever so slightly, drawing his eyes from the paper to your own.

"It's, uh..." You couldn't contain the stupid smile that plastered your face. "It's perfect."

Zack's face lit up, letting out a relieved 'fuck yes!' Before getting up to envelope you in a bone-crushing hug, that lifted you quite a few inches off of your seat. You could barely get your arms back around him with how tightly he held you, chest pressed around you and arms awkwardly offset from yours (one under, one over). His scent wrapped around you like he did. It clung to your senses; days old cologne, and something else you couldn't quite pinpoint.

If you knew such accidental advice worked this well, you would've done it a long time ago.

Zack let go, still beaming with pride. You handed his notepad back to him, with the slightest crinkle where you held it.

"That's the only other song I needed done. It's finally ready for the studio tomorrow."

You were about to congratulate him, but the last part of his statement tripped you up a bit.

"Tomorrow?" Your eyes narrowed. "You waited until the day before you were supposed to be in the studio to finish writing this song?"

"Yeah, I-I guess." He averted his eyes, rubbing the back of his neck.

"What were you planning on doing if you didn't finish it?"

"I don't know," he shrugged, "probably just postpone the recording date until I finished."

"Are you allowed to do that?"

"Well..." He trailed off, then shook his head. "What are you, my mom?"

"Alright, alright, fine, I'll back off," you sighed. "What studio is it, exactly?"

"Sound City. It's like 40 minutes from here, somewhere off of I-101." He gestured down the street, although you didn't know if that was truly the direction or whether he simply pointed that way to articulate his point.

You stared blankly. "I've never heard of it."

"You're messing with me, right?" Johnny Cash, Elton John...?"

"You expect me, a regular person, to know where Elton John records his music?"

"Alright, fair point... You know," he began, "you can come with me to the studio tomorrow. Check it out."

"Really? I'm not gonna be, like, a distraction or anything?"

"Maybe..." He teased. "But I won't mind, and I don't think the guys'll mind either."

You tried your best to hide the smile threatening to give away your feelings. You cleared your throat, trying to play it cool. Trying, and failing.

"Alright." You shook Zack's hand in a sarcastic over-the-top manner. "It's a date."

"A date," he agreed, and then yawned. "Man, we've been sitting here for, what, three hours now?"

"Just about... Fuck me." You fell back onto the couch, head pointed to the ceiling. Zack sat next to you. "I'm gonna pass out here."

"You alright with me putting something on the TV?" Zack asked, turning his head slightly to just barely face you.

"Go for it."

"It's not gonna keep you up?"

"It will, but I don't mind." You held your hand to your temple, shielding your eyes from the overhead light. "As long as I don't have to use my brain for anything, I'll be good."

"Probably not a first," he joked.

"Excuse me." You played along, letting out a scoff. "Who finished your song for you?"

He shrugged. "I would've come up with it eventually."

"Because you were doing so well on your own."

"I was, I just needed you here for moral support."

"And moral support deserves writing credits." You quipped back.

He shook his head. "Please, you weren't even paying attention half the time."

"Like when?"

"When you were gawking at me."

"I-I," you stumbled, "I was not gawking. I barely even glanced."

"Seemed like a pretty long glance to me." He grabbed the remote off of the table. Somehow he made something as simple as turning on the TV into a cocky display of victory.

"Okay, haha, very funny, you got me." You threw your hands up in a sarcastic surrender.

"It's alright, you don't have to be embarrassed. I understand" — he held his hand to his chest — "that I'm too fuckin' irresistible."

You rolled your eyes. "Sure, whatever," you scoffed.

You turned your attention back to the T.V.; a godsend, surely. The temperature in the room seemed to skyrocket, as your heart beat out of your chest. You fumbled with the bottom hem of your shirt, trying any self-soothing techniques your brain thought of.

"What's on?" You asked.

"Some bullshit F.B.I. show," he replied. "Nothing else on is any good, unless you'd rather watch the home shopping network."

"Copaganda'll work just fine, thanks."

Zack laughed. You adored that laugh. The way the corners of his eyes crinkled, how broad all of his smiles were. Anytime he laughed, it reminded you of all of the things you loved about him— It made you fucking melt.

"Man, they have a million of these damn shows." Zack said, bewildered.

"Probably for psychos who stay up writing song lyrics until two in the morning."

"Shit, I guess there's a market for everything."

The show continued as you settled into your spot, resting your head on Zack's shoulder. A bold move, absolutely, but he didn't mind. At least, he didn't seem to.

Despite lacking blankets, pillows, or pretty much anything to keep someone comfortable watching a show, it was the most relaxed you'd felt in a while. The rhythmic breathing of not just you, but Zack was tranquil. All in the midst of the busiest city in California. Ironic.

So whilst your eyelids got heavier, and your breathing became more mellow, you found yourself drifting off into a calm sleep.

***

"Hey, you awake?"

Zack shook your shoulder lightly. You stirred, your eyes blinking open slowly.

"The, uh, show's over," he spoke, voice barely higher than a whisper. He really didn't have to say it, considering the hum of the T.V. static was the only sound that you could hear. That, and the occasional passing of a car.

"Already?" You groaned, raising your arms in a deep and relieving stretch. "Fuck, I really don't want to move anywhere."

"We don't have to," he shrugged. "We can just stay like this. Talk or something."

"Sounds nice."

Only, neither of you knew what to talk about. For the first time in the entirety of your friendship, you had absolutely nothing to say. Nothing at all. At least nothing you wanted to admit in the early, early morning of a nearing Los Angeles dawn.

"Can I ask you something?" Zack asked, breaking the silence.

So much for nothing to talk about.

"Yeah, sure," you replied.

"I know I was fucking with you earlier, but I just wanted to know if... if you actually thought I was any good-looking."

"...You're seriously asking me that?"

Zack furrowed his brow, about to counter your question, but stopped. He shook his head. "No, you're right. It was a self-involved question."

Fuck. You hadn't meant to sound antagonistic, but the nature of his question was all but naive. It... caught you off guard, to say the least.

"N-no! It," you sighed, "it's not, it's just..."

Zacks arms crossed over his chest. Well, they'd actually been like that for a while, you just hadn't noticed prior. You had now, and you also noticed how he tapped his fingers rhythmically against his opposing upper arm; awaiting your response.

"You're... you just..." You tried to speak, but each time you fell short of a full sentence. "Christ, why is this so fucking hard to say?!" You huffed. "You're... beautiful."

"... Really?" He asked (rather doubtfully).

"Yes!" You let out. "I mean, god, you're probably the most attractive person I know."

Zack laughed, a mix of relief and nerves at the implications of your sentence. "Shit, I don't know what to say. You're... you're pretty beautiful too."

"You know you don't have to say it if you don't mean it." You laughed, dismissively.

"What makes you think I don't mean it?"

"You used the exact same phrase I used, after I told you..." You fidgeted with your fingernails. "...and you paused."

"That doesn't mean I didn't mean it."

"Doesn't it?" You narrowed your eyes.

"Alright," he sat up in his seat and turned towards you. "What if I could convince you I wasn't just bullshitting?"

"You can try," you huffed, and turned your head to the side.

Zack reached to hold the side of your face gently in his palm, and guided you to face him. Your skin was flush in his hand. Your breath hitched in your throat as you did your best to avoid his gaze.

"Hey," he spoke softly, as if reading your thoughts, "look up."

You did as he asked, hesitantly, and before you could meet his eyes he locked you into a kiss. You froze; your world completely turned in on itself, and your mind raced with a million thoughts all crossing you at the same time. As much as you wanted to pull away and give a disheartened lecture on the state of your friendship, all you could think of was how good his lips felt on your own. All of the convincing you needed.

His open hand rested on your thigh, while your hands made their way to his locs. The kiss deepened, as Zack started to loom over you. Your back hit the arm of the couch, suddenly, which managed to make you gasp. A gasp that he took full advantage of. A small moan left your lips, muffled by his own. As much as you wanted to make out with him until you suffocated, you didn't think dying was a particularly smart idea.

You pulled back for a breath of air, and rested your forehead on his; your heavy breathing both synchronized. You stayed like this for a while, not saying anything, until Zack broke the silence.

"So, uh... believe me yet?"

hope you enjoyed !! the ending is kinda rushed a bit, ive been sitting on this fic for ages and finally found the motivation to finish it so i hope you enjoy :>> and if there's any grammatical mistakes i missed, uh, oopsies :p

#zack de la rocha x reader #zdlr x reader #rage against the machine x reader #ratm x reader #band imagines #real person fiction #rpf #fanfiction

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randomestfandoms-ocs · 1 year

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You can't just say that you'll never write anything as good as a scene and then not share it give us the goods

oh man anon welcome to the shit show that is the SOWK verse! for some context, this is a scene between Thad Harwood and Dave Karofsky, who become friends after On My Way. Thad is under the impression that he and Dave have been dating for months, Karofsky is repressing the hell out of his feelings for Thad, and when the rest of the inner circle bring this to their attention (he brought you to a Warbler party, Dave, that's as serious as it gets), Dave panics, flies back to New York, and instead of going back to his campus upstate, he finds himself at Thad's apartment, and this scene takes place when Thad gets back to New York a few hours later!

It's long, so I'm putting it under the cut, with warnings for internalized homophobia & internalized aphobia

(also I'm not posting the entire thing bc I want to create intrigue but also I want to post the entire thing because I'm obsessed with them rip)

Thad walked home alone from the train. Dave should have been there, should have been laughing as he complained about the cold, reminding him that Ohio winters were far worse. Come on, Prep School, he'd have said, did two weeks in the Caribbean really turn you into a wimp? Thad would have bumped their shoulders together and faked a pout until he could no longer hold back his laughter, and that would have kept him warm all the way home.

Instead, he was alone in the bracing wind, bundled up tightly but still chilled to his bones. Finally he made it to his building, up the elevator, and to his door. All that he wanted was to get inside, to make himself a cup of tea and curl up under his blanket, to try to pretend that this horrible weekend had never happened. How empty would it feel, without Dave there beside him, sharing the couch and stealing his blankets? He almost couldn't remember what it was like to be alone.

Almost. Not quite. Being alone was engraved into him, just as much as being a Warbler. Dave may have helped him forget it, but it would come back easy enough. It was who he was, after all, at his core. And he had been foolish to think that it could be any different. He wasn't boyfriend material, he knew that. He was a good friend, a better listener than anyone would expect, but he wasn't built for relationships. Enough of his past partners had told him that — he was selfish, icy, a frigid fucking bitch — and it was his own fault for pretending that Dave could have seen him as something more.

He unlocked his door with shaking hands, and he would swear to the grave that it was only the cold making him shake, all too ready to bundle up and cry.

But when he opened the door, there was someone else there. There, on his couch, with his blanket, looking like he belonged.

He does belong, his heart whispered. Shut up, his brain retorted, don't get our hopes up.

"Dave?"

Dave looked up, surprised. Like it wasn't Thad's fucking apartment that he was sitting in.

"Thad? Wow, um… I hadn't realized the time. I'm sorry, I shouldn't be here, I'll—"

He stood, halfway to the door, before he stopped again, looking at Thad – really looking at him – for the first time.

Then, at the same time – still in sync, a traitorous part of his brain whispered – both of them spoke.

"I'm sorry." "I'm sorry."

"What? No, Dave, you didn't — I mean, I'm the one… I mean—"

"Breathe, Prep School. Please, let me talk? If I don't… I don't know if I'll ever be brave enough again."

More than a little curious, Thad felt himself nodding.

"Go ahead," he said, just a second delayed.

"Even before I knew that I was gay… I've always known that I wasn't built for love. Not real love. The only relationship I even had was with Santana and she was using me as a beard to win prom queen. It just wasn't in the cards for me, and I kind of came to terms with that. And then I realized I was gay, and I really knew. I was never going to come out, so even if love was a possibility, it still wouldn't be."

Thad opened his mouth – to comfort him, probably. To tell him that he was wrong, that he was built for love and that Thad himself was fucking proof of it. But Dave kept talking.

"When Aurora introduced us, I was at the lowest point in my life. My dad could barely look at me, my mom wanted to send me to conversion therapy, my friends had all turned on me as soon as the news dropped. And it felt right, you know? Karma, maybe, for everything I'd done. For how much I had hurt people, especially Kurt. And it was awful, but I accepted it. This was my punishment, and I had to live with it. But then Aurora showed up, and… well, you know what she's like."

Thad couldn't help but chuckle at that — he did know Aurora.

"She showed up in my hospital room, and I only barely recognized her. But she came over to my bed, waited until she had my full attention. She's so small, you know, but even then I could feel how much of a fucking force she is. She just stood there, looking at me. I was about to ask her what she wanted by the time she actually said anything. She told me that she knew how I felt, that she'd been in my position and she knew what I was thinking. And she told me that that wasn't good enough. That I wasn't allowed to just accept it, to just resign myself to being miserable for the rest of my life until the day I died. She said… she said 'fuck everyone else, Dave, fuck what you think you owe them. You owe it to yourself to keep living, to fight for your happiness.' She told me that I'd fucked up, that she wouldn't deny it, but that I still deserved to see that it really could get better."

A few tears escaped as he remembered that conversation, the words that had changed – and saved – his entire life. Thad wanted so badly to wipe them away, but Dave was still talking, and he didn't want to miss a word.

"She told me that I needed new friends, a better support system. She said that my dad should talk to Burt Hummel, and that my mom should shove her bullshit up her ass – her words, not mine. She offered to introduce my dad to Wes and Cooper, too, said that they could help him understand. And she said that she and Blaine were happy to talk, but that it would be good for me to have a friend who was, you know, a bit more like me. And she gave me your number, said that you were expecting a message and that I'd better not keep you waiting. She probably knew that, if she hadn't said that, I would never have sent that first text.

"But honestly, I found her a little scary. Still do. So I texted you. And god, it's the best thing I've ever done. You didn't expect anything from me, you didn't expect me to just go back to normal or anything, and you were always there for me. You helped me figure out how to keep living, how to have a life. You helped me find a school where people wouldn't know but also wouldn't care, you helped me figure out how to talk to my dad… God, Thad, you helped me so much more than I can even explain. You became my best friend faster than I even realized."

#ask #answered #anon #my writing #drabble #sneak peek #somewhere only we know

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ineedahugesticktobeatyou · 2 years

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Back in february I took part to @malex-cupid‘s event for Valentine’s Day. I finally translated the three one-shots that I wrote from italian to english. Here is the last one. Thank you for reading ♥

Thank you to my amazing friend Viviana, the best beta reader I could wish for ♥ All errors are mine and mine alone.

Read on Ao3

The reception hall was a warm bubble filled to the brim. It was full of emotions, sounds, colors, perfumes that chased one another, mixing together like the waves of the ocean. Alex tilted his head and a picture made of musical notes and words formed in his brain in a flash of inspiration. He tried to grasp it, but a moment later it had already vanished, lost forever in the chaos of the day. Alex pondered if it was worth forcing himself to retrieve that idea but no, it definitely wasn't. He was quite sure his brain could have done better than filling his head with sugary verses, since there were already so many in his notebook that today’s were totally useless. Alex focused again on his sugar overdose. He was happily shoveling cake into his mouth, when Kyle sat near him, collapsing on the chair like the most exhausted man in the world. Alex thought it was a quite dramatic reaction. After all, he just moved chairs and tables out of the way to turn the reception hall into a ballroom, not a big deal, right? Even so, could he really lose the chance to make fun of Kyle?

«Getting old is a horrible thing, you get tired so easily.»

«Ah ah, you're such fun! We are the same age, in case you forgot. It's just that you hadn't been sentenced to forced labor by your alien better half.»

Kyle was exaggerating, but he was right. Alex had been relieved of any duty by Michael's unquestionable orders. In the past, Alex would have reacted poorly at something like that, as if his disability implied some sort of failure on his side.

«I supervised the work.» Alex shrugged calmly.

«Of course. From a distance. And eating cake. Very efficient of you.»

Alex looked Kyle in the eyes and slowly ate another piece of cake to emphasize it. «Very efficient!»

Kyle snorted, amused beyond measure. They were tired and happy and everything seemed more fun than it was in reality. More beautiful. More intense.

The darkness coming in through the windows made the lights more vibrant and the tiny candles on the tables shined like little stars. Alex chuckled at himself, at those comparisons that kept exploding in his head, ethereal, unwanted, and so very dull.

«Everything okay?» Kyle asked.

«Yes, don't worry. It's just these ideas about the songs I could write that keep popping into my mind.»

«What's the problem? Aren't they good enough?»

«Uhm, I don't know! They disappear too fast to really know. Maybe I'm just too tired to judge it clearly.»

«Or maybe there are so many sensory inputs and too much information to process, that nothing really sticks.»

Alex didn't know if Kyle's explanation was correct, but it made sense to him just because it sounded vaguely scientific.

«Or maybe you are just tired, who knows!» Yes, all in all, that was still the most likely thing.

The lights went down and, in the blink of an eye, Max and Liz found themselves in the middle of the dance floor. She was a vision in white, the most beautiful bride Alex had ever seen, and Max... Max was the personification of the heart eyes emoji.

«They are disgustingly happy!» Kyle commented with a smile filling his entire face. Alex agreed. They watched Max and Liz holding hands. The grip shifted into a hug, and then in a small circle of love that began to move along with the music. Alex finally understood. It hit him as a revelation. He finally realized that all the sweetness blossoming in his head today had less to do with Max and Liz's wedding and more with what he was going to do.

That was because he wanted the same thing for Michael and himself and he was finally close to make it happen. It was exhilarating and he felt a bit stupid realizing it at that moment as if he hadn't already planned every small detail - as if he had not tried his speech again and again, alone in front of the mirror, feeling ridiculous and crazy in love. Disgusting, as Kyle would say.

«I'm going to ask Michael to marry me!»

Kyle stopped breathing for a moment, like he suddenly didn't quite remember how to do it. Alex had no intention of telling him about the proposal, but his emotions were too strong to be contained and the words slipped out of his mouth without warning.

«Don't say anything!» he hurried to say out of breath with the corners of his mouth lifting in the hint of a smile. Kyle reached over to him, grabbing his arm.

«Alex!»

«No, Kyle, I'm serious. Don't say anything to anyone!»

“Because this is Max and Liz's day and I don't want to steal the spotlight.”

“Because we already had our plans ruined by all of you last year.”

“Because I want the moment to just be ours, Michael and mine's.”

Alex had a lot of reasons to convince his friend to keep silent, but he didn't have time to use any of them. Michael joined them at the table with Isobel clinging to him - one of her hands eagerly reaching out to Kyle.

«Let's dance!» she exclaimed with her voice muffled by the loud music. Kyle grabbed her hand and Isobel dragged him to his feet. He looked frantically at her and Alex with a silly little smile on his face that threatened to screw everything up.

Alex swallowed a nervous laugh, braced himself with all the self-control he could master and reached out both hands to Michael.

«Shall we dance too?»

Micheal didn't wait any longer. He intertwined their fingers together and pulled Alex to his feet, and then against him. Eyes on eyes, they made their way towards the center of the hall. Even if he had sensed something strange in Kyle's attitude, Michael wouldn’t have given it any importance, totally consumed by Alex and by his hands along his back.

It was a matter of priority, Alex thought amused - the curve of his smile pressed with a kiss on Michael's neck.

Not far from them, Kyle and Isobel were dancing too, holding each other tight. Alex caught Kyle's eye.

Don't say anything!

---

The music went from one slow dance to another and then to something much more animated that Alex managed to escape. Rosa asked for a dance with Kyle and he took the opportunity to gently push Michael towards Isobel. He earned back a slightly betrayed look, as if making him dance with his sister was an offense. It obviously wasn't and Michael's fake disappointment disappeared the exact moment she clung onto his neck.

Alex crossed the dance floor. His friends and family all around him. He smiled at Liz dancing with her father, returned the kiss that Maria blew at him from her place in Gregory's arms and then, finally, reached the door. From the opposite side of the room a burst of cold air welcomed him. The contrast with the indoor temperature was so strong that, for a moment, Alex was breathless. On the upside, however, it took away all his tiredness and replaced it with a staggering lucidity. Rows of red and white fairy lights were draped on the trees' branches and, under one of them, a swing slowly moved. There was a blanket on the seat and the heart-shaped confetti used at the photo-shoot all around. Obviously, a wedding on Valentine's Day couldn't fail to overflow with hearts, true and metaphorical.

Alex sat down and the swing rocked under his weight - back and forth, back and forth - and his breathing followed the rhythm. However, he failed to disengage the heart stuck in his throat, the anxiety that was growing slowly under his skin. So, he resigned himself to a nervous waiting, consumed in a succession of deep frozen breaths.

When Michael joined him outside - the shirt half unbuttoned, the tie shoved in a pocket and a bottle of champagne in his hand - Alex felt like he had waited too long and, at the same time, not at all.

«It's freezing out here. Aren't you cold?»

Michael wedged himself into what was left of the seat and ended up pressed against Alex, keeping the contact from shoulder to knee.

«I needed some fresh air.» Alex shrugged, the swing rocking, repetitive and hypnotic, back and forth as before, only a little faster.

«Ok, but no reason to freeze to death.» Michael wrapped the blanket around them both - a cocoon of warmth that forced them even closer together. «That's better.» he mumbled satisfied against Alex's cheek, enjoying the moment of perfect silence in which they found themselves. Not far from them, the party was going on and, from the windows, they could see the newlyweds still dancing.

«It was a beautiful day, wasn't it?»

It was Alex who broke the silence.

«Yes, I don't think I've ever seen Max so happy. Although, I don't think he paid attention to anything but Liz.» Michael shook his head amused.

«I can understand! I mean, not in the sense of noticing Liz only - even though she is beautiful -, but in the sense of not really noticing the rest. I mean, after all, nothing matters more than them.»

«Uhm so, when it’ll be our turn, will it be the same for us? Won't I notice anything but you?» Michael looked up at the sky and pretended to think about it furrowing his brow. «More or less like usual, then! Nothing new on that front!» He joked, a wet, popping kiss that rang right under Alex's ear.

«Come on, be serious!» Alex laughed and tried to escape from Michael and his scratching beard.

«I'm always serious when it comes to you!»

Alex knew that - he had known it for a long time now - and it was rock solid awareness, something that made his next words sound unexpectedly intimate.

«You’d only see me, that's right, and I'd only see you.»

Michael smiled like a kid on a Christmas morning. «I would like that! A lot!»

«Me too! And it would be a day like this, full of happiness and love. Maybe with less people, though.»

«Oh yes, definitely fewer people, definitely!» Michael nodded slowly - his eyes a bit unfocused as if he was already imagining the scene. «It may be a spring or a summer wedding… surrounded by blooming sunflowers, maybe?» Michael spoke to himself more than Alex, but he felt every word, each one of them making his conviction stronger.

«I don't know how much Isobel would really approve of this program.» Alex didn't really think it could be a problem but he said it anyway, to buy more time and to find the last bit of courage that was needed.

«We can always elope and get married in secret, just you and me!»

Alex tilted his head to study Michael - his hair a messy nest of curls and his gaze soft under the fairy lights above their heads. «For real?» he asked in a whisper, because he knew this was something that would suit him but not Michael, with his constant need of having the people he loved around him.

«Really, Alex! The only thing we need to get married is the two of us. You and me, that's all. Where, how and when it doesn't matter, I just need you. Only you.»

These were things that had been said many times since they got back together, things that they had whispered to each other in the endless nights spent loving one another, things that they had promised by imagining their future. This was the final push that Alex needed to make that future become a reality.

When Alex kissed him, Michael tasted like champagne and cake, one hand gripping his boyfriend's knee, the other digging under his own jacket. The Valentine's card between his fingers was a little wrinkled - the corners already worn out. Perfectly imperfect. Like them.

It took Michael a few seconds to shift focus from Alex - his lips, the kiss, the hand on his leg - to the card in front of his eyes. When he finally took it, he chuckled, because it was such an unusual thing for Alex to do. Between the two of them, Michael was the one with a penchant for Valentine's cards. The one from this morning had You're one in a universe written in bright silver cursive within a galaxy of planets. It was still on their bed, somewhere between the crumpled sheets and a forgotten breakfast with no regrets on the nightstand.

The one in Alex's hand, however, was white and entirely covered with small embossed hearts. Inside, there was a single giant heart with a stylized profile. At the center, it was written Be Mine, Valientine! in shiny red letters. Michael laughed, totally unprepared when, in front of him, he found Alex's open hand and a ring. His laughter turned into shocked, surprised sobs at a frightening speed.

«Will you marry me, Michael? Because I want it so much that I can't breath. I want to marry you and I want it to last forever, so that we can spend the rest of our life together.»

«Alex…» Michael mouthed the name, incapable to do anything more than gazing in adoration at his boyfriend - fiancé? - and the ring in his hand.

«However many years we have left, I want to spend them all with you! I want nothing else ... Will you marry me, Michael?» Alex asked again, his words full of desperate urgency, his heart threatening to burst out of his chest.

«Yes, Alex, yes, forever yes...» Michael yelled and then whispered it. His hands sank into Alex's hair and insatiable and possessive kisses burnt on his skin.

The air was electric around them. Alex didn't know if it had anything to do with Michael's power or if it was just their happiness, so intense to seem a tangible presence. It was surreal. It was amazing.

«The ring! Where is it?» Michael moved away far enough to search Alex's hand between them. A moment later, the ring slipped shakily on his finger.

«We are getting married! Alex, we're getting married!»

Michael laughed and cried, all at the same time, incredulous and amazed, as if only now, with the ring on, he really believed it.

«We're getting married!» Alex confirmed and, a heartbeat later, Michael was kissing him again - lips, cheeks, neck, a rain-pour of I love you! wet with tears.

From inside the reception hall, through a glass window, Kyle waved with a crazy smile on his face, both thumbs raised in the most ridiculous sign of approval possible. And Alex loved him. Almost like Michael. Almost, but never like Michael. Never ever as much as Michael.

«Happy Valentine's Day, baby!»

#malexcupid22 #malex fic #alex manes #michael guerin #malex #kyle valenti #roswell new mexico #rnm fic #dani writes in english #my fics #personal

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endlesstwanted · 1 year

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Hello internet!

This is Chase (endlesstwanted), and I thought I should start this blog with an introduction. I haven’t kept a blog in over a decade, so please bear with me while I figure out how all of this works. The essential info about me will be above the cut, because I’m an oversharer and I don’t know how long this will enventually be.

As I said, my name is Chase, I’m over 21 years old and currently studying a vocational course which I have no vocation for. I’m in the CET time zone, based in Spain, and I like to think I’m bilingual even if my brain can’t keep up with Spanish half of the time (most of the content here will be in English). I am a non-binary trans, which influences how I view things and a friend said it would be good to mention. I’m also bisexual, which is a great excuse to be multishipper too. My sun sign is taurus, and my moon and rising signs are virgo.

My main interests are writing, languages and travelling (been all over Spain). I enjoy puzzles, funko pops, cinema, series and music. I’m not active in fandoms outside of Marvel, even though I like a lot of other media. For starters, I plan to use this blog for bingo stuff and to share what I write and post on Ao3.

Moving now onto the fandom talk, I entered the fandom world at eight years old with pop music. I then moved to tv shows when I watched Broadchurch and discovered Teen Wolf, to later follow punk rock bands and being introduced to concerts. I began being interested in cinema at the age of eighteen and eventually found Marvel a few years back.

I’m familiar with the MCU and X-Men films, and am slowly trying to find my way into the comics. I’m a multi-shipper (the rarest the pairs, the more interests I will get) and willing to read and write anyone I’m comfortable with.

That’s said, my favourite characters would have to be Bruce, Sam, Natasha, Clint and Bucky. I am fixated on others like Scott Summers, Sprite, the Peters (Maximoff, Parker, Quill, you name it), the Grandmaster, Justin Hammer and Remy Lebau (I’m into those who have no more than five scenes, as you see). My favourite projects (that I’ve watched so far) are The Amazing Spider-Man films, The Incredible Hulk, Wakanda Forever, Infinity War, Black Widow, Eternals, X-men Apocalypse and the Hawkeye series.

As I said I plan to keep this blog to share my writing and Bingo-related information. In case things go out of hand, please remember that my previous experience has been ten years on twitter, I feel in need of mentioning the other media I am fan of. This is a warning in case one day I wake up willing to fill my page with that, which you know, can happen.

I like a variety of cinema genres, going from thriller to comedy, even though I enjoy dramas the most and I’m a huge fan of Spanish cinema as well. The films I need to mention now are the ones that really got me into this world and hold a special place in my heart : the Scream saga, The Faculty, Deux Moi (French drama from 2019), Clue (1985), Marrowbone, Coherence, The Broken Circle breakdown, The Birds, and Breakfast at Tiffany's.

Talking about series now, everything has been non-stop since discovering Teen Wolf until now, with a few years gap I used to go to concerts and consume the MCU an embarrassing amount of times. The ones that have shaped me as a person are The Night Shift, Leverage, The Society, Sneaky Pete, Stitchers, On My Block, Code Black, Hunters and New Amsterdam. I’m currently watching the Chicago-verse series after watching a bunch of episodes on tv with no idea of what was going on because they played eight a night, I’ve just started Chicago Med.

As far as music goes, I thought to mention the people that have literally raised and/or been an inspiration for me at some point: 5sos, Demi Lovato, Taylor Swift, Sam Smith and Chase Atlantic.

The list goes on and on but you don’t want me to bore you with the Spanish’s pop artists, music contests, and all the things I said I’ve recovered from and I haven’t.

If you’ve got to this point, thank you! I know I walk (write) a lot, so it’s good to know someone listening. Other sites I’m on are Ao3, TvTime, Letterboxd, NanoWriMo and Spotify.

Here you have a picture of Wanda, that is my latest addition on my funko collection ♥️ (do people use emojis in here?)

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thewafflewhat · 2 years

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tagged by @random-french-girl to post 5 songs on repeat

i’m actually not much of a song repeater person unless the hyperfixation takes hold like the songs in bold since i’m more of an album repeater person so... i cheated a little bit and basically picked songs that i wanted to talk about instead lmao

- this hell - rina sawayama: banger about being unapologetically queer in the face of “christian” homophobia and it’s shoni coded from shelby’s pov yes it is plus she also has a line about how shit the paparazzi are and it’s like... did she lie tho

- cate’s brother - maisie peters: a song she wrote as a joke that had an incredible release schedule. she got the first verse stuck in our heads, then she added the chorus, then she teased the full song at one of her concerts like the unhinged swiftie she is before finally releasing the full song and making it chart basically based on fan promo alone. has been described as “teenage dirtbag for the gays”

- hot - seventeen: i’ve been streaming this one since it’s the title track from their newest album. took a couple of listens to really grow on me but when i liked it, i LOVED it. plus it’s giving gay cowboy vibes

- 45 - bleachers: this one isn’t as recent but it’s a great song. the sadness and nostalgia and longing for a relationship that’s already over, all contained within the metaphor of a 45 record and i still love this version with my whole heart plus this song (and its album counterpart) leatin coded i said what i said

- gold forever - the wanted: a song from their 2nd album originally released as a charity single in the uk back in 2011 that has so much more meaning now after the passing of one of the band members earlier this year due to brain cancer. the fans got the song to number 1 on itunes in the uk and kept it there for at least a week, and the rest of the band members created a special acoustic version of it to play at his memorial service. they then went on to re-release this version in his memory with all proceeds going directly to ‘the brain tumour charity’ here in the uk and bringing the song full circle as a charity single <3

[honourable mention to darling - seventeen which is much more my usual style of song than hot but got pre-released back in april so it’s not on repeat as much anymore. it’s also leatin coded and when they finally smooch in s3 i’m gonna learn how to make a fanedit just so i can edit their kiss over the “kiss me baby” part i speak that into existence i’ve planted that seed and i will see the harvest]

tagging: @echoes-of-realities @lesbiangracehanson @thisisnotourparadise @ladyarduenna and anyone else who happens to scroll past this and wants to expose™ themselves

#tagged in #no one has to do this so don't feel pressured to if you don't want to :)#rfg ik you read my tags #hmu if you wanna hear about all the other leatin coded songs i almost added to this list 👀

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haywire-hetfield · 2 months

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From personal experience, unless Dead were to actually cut into one of his veins or more than surface level in his muscles he would be relatively okay. He’d be disoriented, sluggish, and probably experiencing a lot of pain in his wrists but the adrenaline in his body would sustain him as long as he kept himself in a state of fight or flight. Only after relaxing would everything hit him. By time he was cutting on stage he’d been doing it awhile and had built up a tolerance if that makes sense. And based on your descriptions Occultus would probably scar but not too bad and he’d just be in pain. But like realism sucks sometimes, and exaggerated symptoms make for better dramatic flare.

I actually wrote a collage paper on the fact that the original Inner Circle of the Norwegian Black Metal Scene and the bands from a year or so before the circle officially was name was incredibly cult like. ( i won’t bore you with academic talk don’t worry ) so I very much appreciate the sheer amount of control and power these men commanded. They were malnourished, sleep deprived, and most of them were fairly detached from reality towards the end, and yet they were constantly egged on by fans that worshiped their every move.

But like back to the smut lol. Do you have any ideas about more gritty/bloody/or otherwise extreme fics? While I am pretty into omegaverse ( and definitely will resurface in your inbox to yap about that again at a different point in time) I’m also well versed in the more..edgy ideas to put it nicely. Especially the religious devotion aspect ( I’m a black metal fan, i feel like nothing else should be expected from me lol ) There’s something captivating about the complete and utter devotion. Dedicating mind, body, and soul to one person in a way most blasphemous and shameful can be so powerful. Especially if the “god” in question holds it above the devotees head, constantly pushing for more. - 🐈‍⬛

Sorry in advance if any of this doesn't make sense or doesn't feel like it makes sense in the conversation. My brain is kind of scattered all over the place right now.

Okay, so this part first.

I totally get what you're saying and that's very interesting! My opinion on it was based solely on how it's presented in the film and how severe they made all the wounds seem. (Although, it absolutely may have been dramatized or looked worse than it likely was.) Either way, the unrealistic tag was more to avoid any comments similar to, "well actually he wouldn't have been able to get jerked crazy style right after" haha

With Occultus particularly, I think it's a bit more muddled. I was intentionally a bit more vague about how severe his were, mostly because in the moment, neither of them really knew how bad it was either.

And I completely agree on exagerrated symptoms and exagerrated reactions to them. Normally, I enjoy playing up how much something hurts or how severe something else, but I enjoyed getting to downplay those in this fic. (At least I feel the fic downplays them, particularly with pushing through and ignoring the pain of certain things.)

And the paper sounds very interesting! And I do think there's something to be said about encouraging destructive behavior, especially self-destructive behavior. (The most obvious example being Dead)

As for darker ideas, there is actually a LOC necro(philia, not the person) idea that's been bouncing around my head and I've gotten it outlined, but not actually started yet. I'm very excited about it.

I've also been bouncing around some dub/noncon ideas for Varg/Euro that I haven't even gotten a fully fleshed idea out for yet, but I know I want to do SOMETHING with it.

Not necessarily dark, but I also know I want to write an omegaverse something for LOC soon.

As for bloody, I want to do something with Occultus/Fenriz based off of the show scene. (That scene has fueled so many horny ideas smh) It's based off them standing down front together, both being very equally...Excited, shall we say, about the blood.

I don't think I'll explore religion/God in a romantic/sexual context further in my fics because it's not really a trope I have a lot of passion for. Though, I absolutely understand why people do.

#dead dove do not eat #dead dove #rpf #asks #blood tw

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sf-nightngale · 2 years

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Narrator:

The streets between Orchard and Park st, and 4th st and 8th st, formed a deserted grid of buildings that only the foolish would tread through without care.

The city district dedicated to its own destruction had been slowly decaying for years. Maintained only as a ruined street set by the producers, and an occasional combat ground for less dramatic battles which didn’t require the added stakes of public safety.

It was the perfect place for the Crypt Gang’s season five finale. The long awaited conflict had been in swing for almost two hours now, as Ava and the rest of the primary cast had run through the more populous streets of Ville Itche City leading their latest villain away from any more hostages.

They were suppose to wait before fighting him, but when he attacked them the plan was swung into action, and as with plans that haven’t had the proper amount of time to form, it failed.

The splintered concrete swirled in the air around them striking anyplace it could in near misses of the cast, who to speak of none of their other skills, could dodge telekinetically hurled rocks like a dream.

Ava peeked out of her hiding place behind one of the larger collapsed pieces of concrete, she’d heard something near the end of their ruined set. Peering down the street to what should have been nothing more than a crowd of spectators; she felt her concrete barrier move.

Feeling it pull underneath her hands she looked down at it and back up at their villain, his cold gaze on her as he lifted the concrete with his mind. She ducked down and moved away as it took off into the torrent of wind beyond her sheltered area.

She couldn’t see from where she was now, but she was sure she had seen him.

The wind swept around Leeto, circling him and pulling at his suit. He breathed a sigh and with a wave silenced it’s errant behavior. If one was versed in the psychic arts they would know the solid purple dome that now encircled the area was the cause.

It’s radiant energy connected to Leeto, even as it pushed away from him and prevented any more discord to his wardrobe. Ave and the rest of the cast members peeked out from their respective hiding places. The villain fumbling to right himself in the face of the now unknown threat.

Joe:

So, you think you can stand against me?

Leeto:

It wouldn’t be worth my time.

Joe:

What

Narrator:

It was at this point, with the cast looking between one another and Joe readying to attack, that his own head exploded, spreading blood across the ruined gravel of the streets.

Leeto:

I’m just the distraction.

Narrator:

Leeto turned away from the splattering of blood at his feet, and after a quick check that no one else in the cast was hurt, frowned at Ava.She’d stood up from her hiding spot and now skirted the edges of the blood to reach him.

Ava:

Leeto.

Leeto:

Ava.

Ava:

You came back.

Leeto:

There are reasons.

Ava:

Aren’t there always.

Narrator:

Leeto breathed a heavy sigh and looked in the direction the bullet had come from. Reaching out with his mind he found it’s shooter. Gone from the roof and adjoining streets, far nearer then he should have been.

Ames was looking at Leeto from the alley as he strode onto the scene, oblivious to the blood and brain matter he traipsed through.

Ava:

Ames, where have you been? We couldn’t find you and Joe showed up.

You shot him didn’t you.

Ames

Yeah!

Ava:

But,

Why do you have a popsicle?

Ames:

I like popsicles, and you have blood on your forehead, so don’t judge.

Narrator:

This brief exchange; which ended with Ava scrambling to remove what she couldn’t see and Ames passing her his hanky; took place as Leeto turned to leave the two, pausing only to inform Ames,

Leeto:

You have blood all over your shoes.

Narrator:

The purple shield swirled as it disappeared and he climbed into his car. Though; Ames’s stride kept pace with Ava’s run, it had a far casualer air; that brought them to Leeto’s side.

Ava:

You’re just going to leave.

Leeto:

Like I said, my own reasons.

Ames:

Well I like them.

Narrator:

As Ava fumed, stomping off to the barricade that separated their ruined set and the pristine streets of Ville Itche City, Ames leaned on Leeto’s car.

Leeto:

Get off.

Ames:

That’s the easy part, darling.

In case you need me again.

Narrator:

He pulled a business card from his pocket with a wink. And when Leeto made no move to accept it, he gave it a twirl and tucked it into Leeto’s breast pocket. Rising he blew Leeto a kiss and let the car roar away before joining the rest of the cast.

#anifam #anime family #Leeto #Ames #Ava #Episode 2 #writing

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foxy-eva · 2 years

Text

Sleepy Golden Storm

Summary: Reader and Spencer Reid enjoy some morning cuddles

Pairing: Spencer Reid x GN!Reader

Category: Fluff

Content Warnings: none

Author’s note: Here’s a soft and fluffy little fic that made me feel all warm and fuzzy when I wrote it. It was inspired by the line “Your hair upon the pillow like a sleepy golden storm” from the Leonard Cohen song Hey, that’s no way to say goodbye. Let me know what you think!

Word count: 1.3k

Masterlist

Your hair upon the pillow like a sleepy golden storm

Whenever I came home from a night shift and found you sleeping peacefully on my side of the bed, I was convinced Leonard Cohen must have written this verse about you. The logical part of my brain knew of course that this couldn’t be true for many reasons. But this exact line always replayed in my head when I saw you like this.

The rising sun managed to sneak one of its rays through a crack in the curtains, illuminating our bedroom in soft shades of red and orange. Your unruly curls on my pillow did look like a golden storm then, so soft and disheveled, begging me to let my fingers run through them.

Even though you had done it many times before, seeing you sleeping on my side of our shared bed always let my heart skip a beat. When I noticed you lying there for the first time many months ago you had told me that every fibre of your body was yearning for my presence whenever I worked nights. The only way to soothe that longing was for you to be able to breathe in my scent lingering on the sheets.

The wood of the floorboards cracked when I stepped closer to the bed to take in the sight in front of me. I was afraid the sound would wake you up, but you only scrunched your nose for a fraction of a second and kept breathing steadily. I smiled to myself at the fact that this tic of yours was so deeply embedded in your subconscious that you couldn’t even shake it in your dreams. Your face looked absolutely perfect, your features relaxed and the lower half of it covered in stubbles. Ever since I had told you how much I adored your little scruff you stopped shaving every day.

You looked so peaceful, lying on your side, one arm under the pillow and the other on top of the blanket, holding the fabric in a loose grip. Although the comforter hid most of your body from my sight, I could picture the way your legs were positioned on the mattress, your knees bent and curled up. I assumed you would be wearing one of your checkered pajama pants you had owned for a decade, the patterns already fading and the material almost too thin to provide warmth from being washed and dried countless times.

I always showered at the hospital after my night shifts to not wake you up when I came home. I had already changed into my oversized sleeping shirt and pajama shorts as quietly as possible. Timidly I lifted the comforter to crawl into bed behind you, pressing my front into your back and wrapping my arm around you under the covers. You sensed my presence instantly without having to fully wake up, shifting your position slightly to lean further into my body. I pressed my face on your shoulder for a second to take in your scent before I let my head rest on the pillow behind you, your curls tickling my cheeks.

I let my hand glide over your thigh, feeling the soft fabric of your pants. I lingered on your hip for a second, squeezing it gently before my hand found its way under the hem of your shirt. Your abdominal muscles twitched when I let my fingertips trace the line of hair right beneath your belly button. I circled your navel with my index finger twice and noticed your skin breaking out in goosebumps. I knew it wouldn’t be long now before all of your drowsiness left you and you fully woke up.

I flattened my hand to let it slowly roam over your tummy, relishing the softness of it. I had to suppress the urge to bury my fingers into your tender flesh, still trying to give you some time to leave the grip of sleep at your own pace. I don’t know why but your skin always felt extra warm and delicate in the mornings. My hand wandered further up your body and I let my palm rest on your chest, counting your heartbeats while I pressed my lips onto the nape of your neck.

I heard a hum leave your throat when you felt my kiss on your skin and I whispered against it, “I missed you so much, sleepy boy.” You took your sweet time to fully wake up, your eyes still closed when your arm wandered underneath the covers and reached behind you to make contact with me. You gave my waist a tender squeeze before you slowly shifted your body, turning around to be able to face me. I let my hand slip out from under your shirt and placed it on your back, caressing it gently.

Your eyes were still half-lidded and weary when they found mine. It seemed like it took you a couple of seconds to fully fathom that you were awake and I was really here. When your brain caught up with the fact that you were not dreaming anymore, you smiled at me and put your hand on my cheek, your thumb tracing my skin. Your lips looked so smooth and kissable I couldn’t resist them any longer. My mouth found yours in an instant and you gladly accepted the contact. After a few moments I decided that kissing your lips was not enough and peppered your whole face with little pecks while a breathy laugh left your throat. First I found your cheeks, then your nose, your forehead, your jaw, your temple and then your mouth again.

When I was satisfied for now I let my head rest on the pillow again to look at you. My little ministrations apparently helped to fully wake you up and I reciprocated the smile you granted me. You closed the small gap between us to kiss me once more while your hand made its way under my shirt, tracing the sensitive skin along my spine. You drew little circles with your fingertips, leaving goosebumps on your way and making me shiver slightly. Both of us always craved skin to skin contact after being separated for more than a few hours. My palm wandered from your back up to the nape of your neck, making contact with your soft curls. I let my hand dishevel what was already a little messy, intertwining my fingers with your hair.

“Good morning my love,” you mumbled against my lips with a hoarse voice. You pulled back slightly to be able to fully look at me. “I missed you so much,” you continued.

I put my hand down on your shoulder and gave it a tender push, implicitly telling you to lay on your back. I curled into your side, put my arm around your torso and let my legs entangle with yours. I buried my face into the crook of your neck and placed a kiss on your pulse-point. You let one of your hands rest on the small of my back and put the other one on my upper arm, holding me tightly.

The warmth you provided for me made my insides tingle and my heart swell. I found so much comfort and security in the way you held me, sending my body into a deeply relaxed state. I noticed how my breathing evened out and slowed down in tandem with the sound of your heartbeat. The harbingers of sleep were already dulling my senses when you kissed the top of my head and whispered, “Sweet dreams. I love you.”

I wanted to tell you how much I loved you as well but I was already too far gone. I repeated it in my mind instead, over and over again, hoping you would be able to hear it somehow.

I love you, Spencer

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x gn!reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you

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skiyoosmi · 3 years

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post-break up heartaches

verse 1. in the car that used to drive us to our home

⤷ kuroo tetsurou, oikawa tooru — more characters coming soon

⤷ verse 2 | verse 3

⤷ play. never let me go by ghostly kisses, forget about us by clinton kane

commissions: open

⇢ KUROO sighs for the umpteenth time of the day. he was so fucking exhausted and his body's about to give in to sleep any moment now. work has been beating his ass; there was this newbie who kept on messing up the documents needed by the board and for the whole day, he had to be the one to fix said issues. it's not like he wasn't paid enough for that; if anything, his paycheck was one of the most beautiful things he laid his eyes on— but god, even his body has its own limits and yet...

"ya.... yer not supposed to do this anymore. y-ya left me, remember?" you slurred, index finger pointing right at his chest as he circled his arms around your waist, huffing as you practically dropped all your weight on him. here he was, suddenly given the task of having to take you home after your supposed-to-be designated driver, miya fucking atsumu, also drank his brains out with you.

"be patient. still heartbroken because of you, y'know?" kenma softly tells him despite the tipsy feeling lurking in the back of his mind, shaking his head as he looked at you, whose system finally shut down and were now dozing off in the black haired man's arms.

"..... still?" he mumbles, looking down at your figure and he feels his heart contract with pain all over again.

"you can't expect her to be fine immediately, kuroo. it was your wedding day, supposed to be the greatest day of her life and yet it became the worst one... you left her at the altar alone."

he didn't reply anything— or rather, he was unable to. because what can he say to refute the truth? nothing. instead, he proceeded to his car with you still in his hold. he places you on the passenger seat, locking the seatbelts before jogging to the driver's side.

the car ride was calm as you slept soundly with your head occasionally hitting the window lightly as it swayed from side to side. he was sure as hell that if you were sober right now, you wouldn't even have the thought of seeing him cross your mind. he just knows for sure that you despise him with your whole being... at least, that's what he thought until...

"i'm sorry, tetsu. please come back," you whimper in your seat, voice quiet but he heard it nonetheless, "tell me what i did wrong so i can fix it."

the pitiful sounds and mumbles you made struck kuroo right in the heart and which makes him pull over an empty but safe road, just a block away from your (previously shared) apartment. looking over your form, he finds himself reaching out to touch your face, caressing your cheeks as drops of tears fell down slowly on them, "you didn't do anything wrong. you were fine. you were so perfect."

you squint your eyes at him, probably wondering if this was real or just a part of your drunken imagination. nonetheless, you hiccuped, "y-you... you left me and i... i still can't even bring myself to hate you... i just wanna ask you why? i just want to understand."

he thought he also knew the reason why but every single time he thinks about it, he's only led to one conclusion: because he was a coward. no way was this any of your fault— it's definitely not your fault that right at that moment, as he stared at the mirror, wearing the black suit you chose for him, the sudden fear of commitment loomed over him. it's not like it was your fault he suddenly got scared of losing you the way his parents lost each other. but now he thinks it's ironic, because he lost you anyway.

maybe... just maybe, if he had just met you where you stood at the altar, instead of leaving you alone in it, maybe he would've been happier. maybe his days would've started more with a smile from you as you helped him fix his necktie before going to work. maybe, the working hours he spends in the shitty corporate world would've been more worth it if it meant he can come home to you at the end of the day. maybe... maybe he wouldn't have to be stuck with this lump in his throat as he wonders what could've been happening if he just chose to show up and vowed his life to you.

but he didn't.

"i realized i wasn't just ready to tie my life with anyone yet. that's all there is to it, yn."

so with a heavy feeling stuck in his chest and a quiet promise to never see you again for the sake of not hurting you further, he starts the car's engine again, ignoring the words you replied but he was sure they will haunt him for a very long time... again.

i can wait for you no matter how long it takes, tetsu, you know that.

⇢ OIKAWA gives you what seems like a guilty smile as he stands in front of you, opening his arms and gesturing you to come closer. but the stoic expression on your face takes him back to the reality that the last thing you wanted to do today was to actually fetch him from the airport. it just so happens that his three best friends were caught up with work that they had no choice but to send you, the main ex-bestfriend slash ex-girlfriend, to him.

why did you agree when you practically loathe him with your whole being? well, it was probably because you weren't the devil who would reject your friends when they were literally on their knees as they begged you and for some reason, you thought he'll look pitiful going back to his home country after five years with no one to welcome him. yeah, that's it. it's not like you're still in love with him or anything.

"my car's just around the corner," you begrudgingly walk towards the car park with him quietly following. at the moment, he knew better than to get on your nerves or else there would be war. he hates that this happened to the both of you but he can't blame anyone else but himself. because who wouldn't hate their ex-boyfriend if they suddenly broke up with them over a phone call?

tension filled the car as you both sat beside each other. perhaps, this was what other people were talking about when they say that it's impossible for exes to be friends again, to not feel any awkwardness because you were sure as hell that the word "awkward" was an understatement of your situation right now. nevertheless, your eyes couldn't help but wander to his figure as he adjusted his body, opting for a more comfortable position in the passenger's seat.

he looked more youthful and you felt bittersweet— proud that his whole aura screams of "success" which meant that gone were the days where he longed to get that winter cup trophy, nor the times when he overworked himself and put a strain on his knee which led to countless arguments with you. if anything, he looked happier and it sucks because you're not even close to feeling that way... not without him.

"i heard you've finally gotten yourself your own condominium? that's great, yn!" he exclaimed as soon as you began driving to your destination, a hope lit within him that maybe you might just respond to him. just one smile, that's all i need, he thinks.

but you remain focused on your driving, choosing to reply with a single nod and a soft "yeah..."

disappointment fills his heart as he faces the truth that your relationship has really been ruined, along with your friendship. all because he was foolish to think that he couldn't handle the physical distance between you two. realization dawns upon him that he just made that same distance worse as you pull your heart further away from him.

"... i actually bought it for the two of us, you know?" he whips his head to your direction in surprise, heart clenching as he watch you let out a sad chuckle, "i just... i thought it would be nice if we had a place to permanently stay at and for you to have a home to go to when you're at japan. but yeah... i guess things doesn't go our way sometimes, does it?"

"i'm sor—"

"it's okay. i'm fine now," you quickly reply, shaking your head but keeping your eyes on the road. he tries to ignore the tears that start to form in them because he has no right to stop them, knowing full well that he was the one who caused them in the first place.

as if on cue, you halt your vehicle in front of a familiar apartment and much to your dismay, you find yourself looking back in the past when you used to live in that same place, making wonderful memories with the chocolate haired lad with you. you clear your throat to stop the sob that desperately attempts to escape your throat, "uhm... we're here."

"oh, yeah. we're here," he numbly states, already missing you despite the mere inches of space separating the two of you. you just felt so far away and he hates it. but this was the path he chose so he gets out of your car along with his things, turning to you once more, "uhh... thanks for the ride, yn. i know you probably hate me but yeah... it's very nice of you to put that past us and i guess i just want to say sorry for hurting you... i just..."

"i don't hate you, tooru," you softly tell him, "i just don't want anything to do with you anymore. to see you this happy, without me, is like a slap in the face because i'm not. it still hurts and i'm not fine. i just hope this will be the last time we'll see each other. be safe on your trip back to argentina. welcome home."

and with that, you start the car's engine again, no longer having the energy nor the strength to hear his reply. but he wishes you did because as he watches your car drive further away from him, he can't help but wish that he can take back time so that you don't have to go to that condominium and instead, go inside the home you once shared with him.

but i'm not happy, yn. because how could i call this place my home when you're not here with me?

at that moment, unbeknownst to the two hearts that long for each other break at the same time, you finally let out the tears and cries that you've been keeping since you saw him, knowing that no matter how much you try, you'll never be as happy as you were with him— simply because he left you with a hole in your heart that no one else can fill.

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu headcanons #kuroo x reader #oikawa x reader #kuroo headcanons #oikawa headcanons #haikyuu writings #haikyuu angst #kuroo tetsurou #oikawa tooru #haikyuu imagines #post break-up heartaches

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