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wolfjackle-creates · 7 months

Note

Tim Drake and 60 for the ask game!

Number 60: Truth Serum.

This is going to be DC only with no DP. Hope you all enjoy!

I tried something new here and wrote in an omniscient narrator. Hope it comes across okay. I want to practice more because it is a useful POV to write in and I've never really used it before. Not in anything polished, at least.

I'll be honest, this isn't your usual truth serum fic. Hope you all like it anyway!

Word count: 2k

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Tim glared at the person who held him captive. Gotham's newest rogue smiled at him as he held up a syringe. Dressed in a long, white lab coat with blue surgical gloves and black boots, he looked like a cartoon scientist.

"Thank you for coming to me, pet. I've finally perfected my serum and can't wait to make a birdie sing." Glee filled the man as he gloated at his prey. This was the night he’d been working towards for years.

"You'll never get anything from me." Tim finally twisted his hand to the proper angle to feel the edge of the razor blade hidden in his sleeve. They hadn’t bothered stripping him when they took his visible weapons and utility belt, much to Tim’s relief.

"Oh, once we get this in your system, we will!" The scientist laughed. "I've spent years on it, you know. And with it running through your veins, you'll answer all my questions!"

And then, before Tim could release the blade and slice through his ropes, the man jabbed the syringe into his neck. The solution burned going in and Tim grit his teeth against the pain.

The man laughed again. This was the best night of his life. "Now, we wait! Just a few minutes and you'll tell me exactly who Batman is. And the rest of your flock. And anything else I want to know."

Tim glared, but focused on sawing through the ropes without making his movements obvious.

Just as the rope split, he heard the sound of a distant explosion. Mad scientist man glared at Tim before speaking into a walkie. "What was that?"

Tim smirked and found himself answering, "My backup," before he could stop himself. Shit. He bit his cheek and launched himself out of the chair.

He punched the man hard, knocking him to the ground. He wanted to ask if there was an antidote or what side effects he could expect, but he couldn't give the man a chance to ask any questions. Instead, he slammed the man's head into the floor, knocking him out.

Maybe he could find a computer on the way out.

Another explosion sounded and Tim cursed under his breath. Nope, he didn't have time to look for information or computers or even the rest of his gear. He had to get out of here now before his family caught up.

On the other side of the warehouse, Jason laughed as he detonated another explosion. For once, Bruce wasn’t scolding him for the unnecessary force. And Dick even helped him set up the explosives. Over the comms, Barbara’s voice was cold as she told him where he would cause the most destruction.

“This guy’s a chemist,” she said. “He’s worked for Scarecrow in the past and he’s been collecting chemicals in large quantities for the past two months. Red Robin was trying to figure out what sort of concoctions he’s been developing, but hadn’t as of last night’s report.”

Damian snorted. “If he were competent, we wouldn’t be in this mess.”

Dick tsked at him. “That’s enough, baby bat. RR is plenty competent.”

Bruce cleared his throat. “Enough chatter. Oracle, where to next.”

“Go through the second door on your left. Wait, hold on.” More quietly, she said, “What are you doing RR?”

“What’s happened,” demanded Bruce.

“Based on his tracker, Red Robin has left the room he was held in. But instead of reuniting with you, he’s taken a path into the sewers.”

“I’ll follow RR,” said Dick. “The rest of you focus on taking these guys down.”

“Very well,” agreed Bruce. “Report in once you find him.”

“Will do, B!” Dick said as he turned and rushed back into the city, following Babs’ instructions.

Tim, meanwhile, sprinted through the sewers. He had a safe house nearby. He had a protocol for this and it didn’t involve being anywhere near his family. He didn’t look down as his boots splashed through the disgusting water. It wasn’t far now. Not ten minutes later, he was taking an exit into a retired subway station and climbing the fence to the streets.

Two more blocks, and he was on the fire escape and pushing open the window to his safe house. First thing he did was rush to the computer and turn it on. Two minutes later, he hit send on an SOS.

Scattered across the country, three people’s phones rang with an emergency signal.

Unfortunately for Tim, that was the moment Dick caught up to him as well. Tim heard the window open and a voice call out, “Red Robin?” Though really, calling out was a formality. Dick could tell Tim was in by the lights that were on.

“In the bedroom!” replied Tim before he could stop himself. Then he cursed. Apparently the serum would work even if the question wasn’t stated in full. He dove for the closet where he knew a pair of noise-canceling headphones sat. He slapped them on just as Dick entered the bedroom.

Dick relaxed as soon as he had eyes on his brother. “God, Tim. Don’t worry us like that! Why’d you run?”

But Tim was staring at him with wide eyes. “Because I was injected with a truth serum.” He slapped his hands over his mouth as soon as the words were out and closed his eyes tightly. Lip-read questions also counted apparently.

Dick froze. “What?” he asked.

But with his eyes closed and the headphones on, Tim couldn’t hear him. Dick reached out to touch Tim’s shoulder only to be tackled to the ground.

He had his escrima sticks in his hands and his thumb was over the button to electrify them when he recognized Impulse. “Impulse? What are you doing here?”

Tim wished he could see what Dick was doing, but he couldn’t risk seeing another question. He had too many secrets he was keeping from his family to trust himself around them.

Bart glanced at Tim who’d backed up until he was against the wall. “Rob messaged us with an incident CH3874G. And the protocols for that involve immediate extraction.”

“I’m his brother. I’m not going to hurt him!” Dick glared up at Impulse even as his thoughts were with his brother. Who’d refused to even look at him out of fear.

Bart shrugged. “Incident CH3874G means he is to have no contact with anyone other than myself, Superboy, or Wonder Girl until the effects wear off.”

“That’s ridiculous. We can take care of him just fine in the cave.” Dick twisted and managed to push Bart off, but he barely regained his footing before Bart was back pulling back his arms and holding him fast again. “Let me go!” he shouted.

And that moment was when Kon made his own way through the window. “Not gonna happen until we get Rob far away from Gotham. He doesn’t want any of you around him right now.”

“Seriously, what do you think I’m going to do to him?” protested Dick.

“Uh… Isn’t it obvious?” asked Bart. “You’re going to ask him questions. And there’s only five questions Tim will tolerate being asked when he’s under the influence of a truth serum.”

“What questions are those?” asked Dick.

Kon snorted. “If you don’t already know, then you don’t get to know.” He walked past Bart and Dick to stand in front of Tim. Kon blocked Dick’s vision enough that he couldn’t see Tim’s face.

Kon tapped a simple “hey” on Tim’s shoulder in Morse code. “Hey, Rob,” he repeated verbally when Tim opened his eyes.

Tim sagged against the wall in relief when he recongized Kon. And he caught a glimpse of Impulse behind him, too. Good, he’d be getting out of here. He hugged Kon tightly, shutting his eyes again so he wouldn’t be able to see Dick.

Kon chuckled and rubbed his back before pulling away. Making sure to enunciate clearly so Tim could read his lips, he said, “No questions until we get you to the designated place. Cassie’s meeting us there. Climb aboard the Super Express.”

Dick could only watch helplessly as his little brother was carried away into the night. “Why wouldn’t you let me help?”

Bart snorted. “Look, Nightwing, I like you. But I like Tim more. He’s my teammate. And he holds nothing so dear as his secrets. Be honest, would you or Batman or any of your friends and siblings let the chance to question him pass by? Would you let him keep his secrets?”

“Of course I would!” Dick insisted. But he knew his family. Bruce wouldn’t. Jason wouldn’t. Damian absolutely wouldn’t.

Bart snorted in disbelief. “Then maybe you should ask yourself why Tim doesn’t trust you enough to even ask.”

Dick glared at the wall, but didn’t have a retort.

“Now, this has been fun, but I’ve got a best friend to look after. We’ll return him once he’s better!” And Bart rushed off to join his friends. Tim would be trying to find a cure as soon as he had access to a computer, but Bart rather hoped it’d just have to wear off on it’s own. It had been too long since they’d gotten together for a movie marathon in a pillow fort.

In the end, Tim didn’t return to Gotham for three days. Three days over which Dick reconsidered every interaction he’d had with his brother, trying to figure out when he’d lost his trust.

He had to admit that stalking was practically a family love language, though. And Damian didn’t help the situation by loudly and often lamenting the lost opportunity to question Tim on anything and everything.

Bruce merely hummed when Dick reported on the situation. He was just glad his son had freed himself before spilling any family secrets and was currently safe with his own friends. Kon sent periodic updates to Clark who passed them onto Bruce, so he knew his son was safe. Nothing else mattered.

The moment Kon set down on the grounds of Wayne Manor with Tim, half the family rushed out to greet them.

“Tim,” said Bruce. “I’ll expect your report by the time we start patrol.”

Tim laughed, “You know, B, you could just ask me how I am. I’m fine, by the way. Truth serum wore off about twelve hours ago. It had a ridiculously long half life. But don’t worry, I’ve already got ideas for potential reversal agents.”

Before Bruce could reply, Dick was pulling Tim into a tight hug. “Glad to see you doing better, Timmy.” More quietly so only Tim and Kon could hear, he whispered, “And I’m sorry.”

Tim pulled away confused. “For what?”

Dick stared back, mouth agape. “I— because I tried to ask you questions?”

Tim laughed and shook his head. “No hard feelings. I would’ve done the same. That’s why I messaged the people I did.”

Damian sniffed. “It does raise the question of what secrets you are keeping from us.”

Tim shrugged and grinned. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

Bruce narrowed his eyes and hummed. “Would you be willing to have lunch with just me, Tim? It’s been a long time since we had any one-on-one time.”

Tim swallowed. “Oh, uh, I should really write that report, don’t you think?”

Bruce chuckled. “I’ll let you skip it if you have lunch with me.”

Kon pretended he didn’t hear the quiet “fuck” Tim let out. “Well,” he said, “I think that’s my cue to leave. Catch you later, Tim!”

“Bye, Kon!” Tim hugged him quickly, then he was alone with his family. He sighed. “Fine, B. I’ll have lunch with you.”

He only hoped at least half his secrets would survive the meal.

-----

It's easiest to lie to Bruce when he doesn't suspect you're lying. When he knows and is actively trying to figure out what you're hiding? It's a lot harder.

So, I know truth serum implies secrets will be revealed, but I just couldn't believe that Tim didn't have a fail safe in place for one. And his friends are ride-or-die and would help him get away from The Batman if necessary. So they did.

Dick and Tim talk it out later and Dick gets added as a back up to any future Truth Serum incidents.

#dc comics #truth serum #tim drake #bart allen #dick grayson #kon el #conner kent #dc fanfic #its after 2am and i have no idea how to tag right now #my writing #i wanted cassie to show up at tim's safe house too #but it was getting long #and there really wasn't anything for her to do?#so she was getting snacks and queuing up some movies

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specialagentlokitty · 3 months

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Negan x reader - celebrations

Hello! I see u asked for some requests. Perhaps celebrating a birthday with Negan when everyone else forgot because they all were busy? Thanks in advance! - @happygirl-0408 💜

You didn’t have long to work, you had been doing this all day, but between sneaking around from the other savours, to trying to gather everything you needed it was hard.

But you were nearly done, maybe it wasn’t the best, you didn’t exactly have all the perfect ingredients but you had the basics.

You quickly rushed from your room to the other one, setting down the plate as carefully as possible.

Pulling out a box of matches, you set them down next to it, along with a very old and slightly broken box.

Again, it wasn’t the best, but it worked.

You quickly ran out room as you heard on your walkie that Negan and a few others had come back, and you made your way back into your own room.

You began to wash everything, drying and putting all the dishes away back where they had come from.

Sitting in your chair, you kicked your feet up on the table, turning your TV on.

You weren’t sure if it was going to be linked back to you, but you were doing your do everything you could to make sure it seemed like you hadn’t left the room all day.

You weren’t sure how he was going to react, if you were sure that he was going to be happy, you would’ve done it in person, but you didn’t want to be there if it pissed him off.

You grabbed your iPod and put your headphones in, picking up a book so you didn’t have to listen to the chatter on the walkie.

You hummed along to the music, happily enjoying the peace that you had.

You were lost in your own world, you didn’t hear the knocking at your door, the calling of your name on the walkie, or the fact that your door was even opened.

“Do you think it’s funny to be ignoring everybody?” Negan snapped.

He stopped, finding you in the chair, reading peacefully.

You had music playing that loudly that he could hear it from the door.

Stepping further in, he closed it, leaning against it as he just watched you with a little smirk on his lips.

You were known as the more ruthless of his saviours, you had no quarrels in killing, or taking what you needed.

You ran a small but strong crew, and though you were ruthless you were always merciful to those that deserved it.

You were humming softly along to the song, not noticing he was there.

Negan looked around, picking up a bouncy ball you had on your desk, he tossed it on the floor, watching as it bounced back up, hitting your arm.

“Who the fuck do you think you are?!” You hissed.

You slammed the book closed, taking your earphones out as you snapped your gaze to him.

Quickly you got up, getting down on your knee.

“Shit Negan I’m so sorry, I.. I didn’t know it was you.”

“Stand up.”

You quickly did as the man said, and he walked around your room, inspecting a few things that he came across.

“What did you do all day?”

“I uh… huh?” You asked confused.

“Well, we’ve been out all day. You’ve been inside, what did you do the whole time we were gone?”

You furrowed your brows a little in confusion.

“Not much, I slept, rested like the doctor told me.”

He hummed a little bit.

“But you didn’t go see the good doctor now did you (Y/N), not today.”

“I didn’t see the point in wasting time, he said just rest and it’ll heal fine.”

Negan walked over and you let him, not moving as he took your wrist, rolling up your shirt to see the dirtied and bloodied bandage.

You were cut by Michonne while protecting Negan, and it went pretty deep, you were lucky you still had an arm.

“You lying little fucker, you haven’t been to him in a long while.” Negan said lowly.

You tried to pull your arm back but he wouldn’t let you, he unwrapped the bandage, letting it fall to the floor.

“You tell me the truth this time, how did you rip your stitches, and who fixed them?”

You sighed heavily.

“I ripped them trying to shoot my gun, target practice. Went absolutely shit by the way, I didn’t hit one can. I fixed them, well, attempted to, I’m also not the best medic out there.”

“Doctor, now.” He growled.

“Negan it’s fine.”

The look he gave you made you quickly rush over to the door, heading down to medical so you could get your stitches fixed.

Negan stood next to you, watching carefully, tapping Lucille against the floor and it made you nervous.

You didn’t like it when he just watched, because you couldn’t figure out what he was thinking.

“Right, this time don’t try shooting until I give you the all clear, and you must see me daily or that will get infected.”

You sighed.

“Fine.”

You pushed yourself from the bed, making your way to the door, hands stuffed inside your pockets.

Negan followed after you, whistling slightly.

“Happy now?” You grumbled.

He carried on whistling, walking in front of you to make you stop.

“Follow me.”

He tapped Lucille on his shoulder, and that made your nerves pick even more, but you kept a poker face, not showing it.

You noticed where he was taking you, and you said nothing.

Negan swung the door to his room and gestured in so you walked in.

He walked in and closed the door, standing in front of him.

“Any idea how those got there?”

“No sir.”

Negan sighed heavily.

“Are we really going to go through this whole lying thing again (Y/N)? You know I don’t like it when you lie to me.”

Negan pulled a sheet of paper out his pocket, showing your name, your number and what you had taken.

“Crap…”

“So it was you!” Negan smirked.

You sighed, running a hand over your hair and you nodded.

“Yeah, okay, it was me. I didn’t know if you would be pissed or not so I just left it there for you.”

“Why?”

“Cause I remember you saying your birthday was around this time, everybody knows, everybody else seemed to have forgotten. Nobody deserves to have their own birthday forgotten Negan, especially not now.”

Negan nodded his head, setting Lucille down and he walked over to the table.

He pulled a chair out for you, letting you sit down first before he sat down as well.

“If we’re gonna do this we’re doin’ it right, that means you gotta sing.”

“Oh no, hell nah. I ain’t singing.”

“It’s my birthday, you have to sing.”

You narrowed your eyes at him a little which made him grin a little wider.

“You weasel.” You said.

“Ah, ah, remember who you’re speaking to honey, I’m still your leader.”

You stick your middle finger up at him and took the matches so you could light the candle next to the cake.

“I couldn’t find any good ones, and I didn’t want to ruin your cake with this one.”

“Just sing, let me hear that beautiful voice of yours.”

Negan leant back in his chair, smirking from ear to ear as you began to sing happy birthday to him, and when you were finished he blew out the candle.

Then he laughed.

“Shit, if I knew you were really gonna sing I would’ve gotten a camera.”

“You mean I didn’t have to?”

“Nah, I just wanted to see if you would.”

You stuck your middle finger up at him again.

“I’ll get you back for this, now open the present.”

He chuckled, grabbing the box he took the lid off it, he reached inside and pulled out a small wooden figure.

He carefully examined it, then pulled out the other item which was some barbed wire.

“I noticed Lucille was looking a little chipped, thought you could use some spare in case.”

He hummed, setting it down, and he picked up the wooden figure again.

“This me?”

“Yup. Took a long freaking time too.”

Negan smirked, leaning forward a little.

“Aw, so you think about me (Y/N)?” He teased.

You swore at him again, leaning back in your chair.

You didn’t say anything else to him, he got up, walking over somewhere and he came back.

He put a fork into cake, trying a little.

“Damn, this is good.”

“Thanks, I used to be a baker.”

Negan put the fork back into the cake, holding his hand under it and he walked over, holding it out to you.

You looked at him confused, but you knew he wasn’t going to back away so you opened your mouth, letting him feed you some of the cake.

You hummed a little, shrugging your shoulders.

“Not the best I’ve made but it’s decent.”

Negan set the fork down, holding his hand out, and you took your so he could pull you up.

He placed a hand on the side of your neck, running his thumb along your jaw.

He leant down, pressing a kiss to your forehead, and he smiled softly at you.

“Thank you, really. I mean it.”

“You’re welcome… asshole…”

“Oh you’re really pushing it now, you know that?”

You grinned a little up at Negan.

“You wouldn’t do shit, you’d miss me too much. I’m the only entertainment in this crap fest.”

“Yeah, damn right you are hot shot.”

You sat back down and he smirked at you, sitting down as he carefully watched you.

Negan picked up the sculpture you had made for him, looking at every small intricate detail you had carved in the wood.

He could tell you took time and dedication to make it, adding everything from the detail in his jacket to the barbed wire on the bat.

Carefully setting it on the table, he glanced back at you as you watched something on his tv.

He hadn’t celebrated his birthday in so long, sometimes he’d forget that it was a thing, it was easy to do in these times.

But you didn’t.

Out of everybody, it was you that remembered him mentioning it in a drunk night meeting.

You had been preparing this, planning this for months, and it solidified his reasoning for trusting you.

You were his right hand for a reason, he would put his very life in his hands knowing you would keep it safe.

He turned to the tv.

“When’s your birthday?”

You looked at him before turning back to the Tv, resting your hand on the table.

“(Y/B/D). I don’t celebrate though.”

Negan nodded his head, copying what you did with your hand, and he pat yours a couple of times.

“Well, sucks for you I guess, we’re celebrating this year.”

#the walking dead x y/n #the walking dead x you #the walking dead x reader #the walking dead imagine #the walking dead #twd #twd x y/n #twd x you #twd x reader #twd imagine #Negan smith #Negan smith x reader #negan smith x you #negan smith x y/n #Negan smith imagine

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qprstobin · 9 months

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Need more future fics that aren't dramatic fics about getting back with an ex or something but is just everyone peacefully living their lives post upside down.

Except Stobin who somehow manage to find trouble at every single job they find together.

They work night shift at a gas station that gets held up all the time. They temp at a start up that ends up being a scam. They become roadies for a bit for some random band that ends up getting really big and they get cemented into that bands lore forever. (And I don't mean CC this ain't about them.) They somehow get hired as the only legitimate employees at a business that's a front for the mob. (Even after they leave this job they still get invited over by the don for holidays.)

Meanwhile everyone else is in the background incredulous and very confused because how do two people find this much trouble at EVERY single job they are at. Esp because Stobin isn't even bothered by it at this point! Anything is better than the upside down, this is just normal to them.

#stobin #platonic stobin #steve harrington #robin buckley #platonic with a capital p #steve #robin #walkie chatter #st au

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chipistrate · 4 months

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I'm down to the last 10-or-so levels in HW2 and I'm questioning my life choices

#Chip Chatter #I need to keep this mask on what the hell are these hard mode levelsgherfduijg #some of them aren't that bad #some of them suck #how the hell do you calm down ruined Roxy when she's having a tantrum #I keep playing the walkie talkie but it just doesn't work #she gets upset faster than I can calm her down sob #HW2 spoilers #Help Wanted 2 spoilers #also Fazerblast 3 is lowkey hell #I'm trying to get the Freddy plush but every time I hit the rocket I get jumpscared by Barker Bear/Carnie #and I Don't Know Why

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witchwyfe · 2 years

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it’s you & me | sh

I pairing: steve harrington x female reader

I précis: aftermath of vecna (not all of it’s canon), fluff and comfort

| word count: 676

Steve's hands are tight on the wheel, and unforgiving grip that turns his knuckles white. He looks over at you every red light and stop sign, trying to gauge where your head's at.

You don't notice the looks he's giving you, and you'd rather ignore the tension in the car than say something to clear it up.

You'd been silent as Steve dropped off Robin, Dustin, and Max--the others under Nancy's care until she dropped them home--and you're still silent even with the empty backseat and lack of chatter.

You're tired, so tired. But even more than that, you're scared. How the hell has your boyfriend and the kids, gone through this multiple times previously?

Steve feels guilty and sad. He never wanted to tell you about any of this, until much later. But when his walkie crackled to life, Dustin's voice telling him to hurry and "bring your bat!", you were there and he didn't know how to explain it.

You'd wanted to come, insisted on it. And you don't regret it. You just had no idea what was happening right underneath you, the town you'd lived in your whole life had plenty of dark secrets that you wish you didn't have to know about.

Steve's pulling up to your house before you even realize it, startled when he reaches over to undo your seatbelt.

"What are you doing?" You ask, more out of shock than actual curiosity. You were deep in your thoughts, and his small, sweet, action ripped you out.

"Taking off your seatbelt baby, we're home." He says softly, eyebrows furrowing in concern.

You nod, letting him come around and help you out of the car.

"I can go inside myself Steve, it's fine." You murmur, crossing your arms against your chest.

"I'm gonna make sure you get in okay and get settled, if that's okay?" He says, unsure of himself.

"Yes." You nod, nuzzling into the arm he's linked with yours. You want nothing more than to be close to him, you're just hesitant to admit it.

He waits patiently as you unlock your door, following like a loyal puppy as you brush your teeth and change. You offer him clothes of his to change into, which he accepts.

"Steve?" You murmur, once you're sitting on your bed, looking up at him. "I'm not upset with you, you know that right?"

He sighs heavily, plopping down next to you.

"I know, I just can't help but feel like this is my fault, dragging you into this."

You shake your head immediately, reaching down to grab his hand.

"It's not." You say firmly. "I would've found out eventually."

"I liked having you with me." He admits quietly, a blush suffusing on his cheeks. "Easier to make sure you're safe."

You can't help the smile that spreads on your lips, and you nuzzle into his shoulder. "Always safe with you."

The two of you sit in comfortable silence for a while, before your head is falling, sliding off his shoulder to his chest.

His arms wrap around your body easily, despite your slumped stature. He scoops you up and deposits you higher up on the bed, your head against your pillow. He's sliding the duvet up to your chin when your eyes crack open, expression sleepy and confused.

"Steve?" You wonder softly, voice thick with sleep.

"I'm here baby," He soothes. "Why don't you go back to sleep?" His hand is warm against the side of your head, pinky brushing across your temple, nudging at your hairline.

"Are you gonna stay?" You ask, sitting up a little bit.

"Do you want me to?"

"Yeah," You say softly, embarrassment coloring your tone. "M'scared."

Steve swears his heart cracks in two when you admit that, and he wants to wrap you up in his arms and never let you go.

"I know baby," He coos, sliding into bed with you. "I'm so sorry."

"Don't apologize please." You tell him firmly, reaching for his hand. "Just want you close."

"I'm here baby. M'always here."

#mine #my work #my writing #witchwyfe #witchwyfe writing #steve harrington #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington oneshot

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star-going-supernova · 8 months

Note

Idea: Vanessa and Gregory find Cassie as she makes it out of the pizzaplex, barely able to walk due to exhaustion.

Tumblr generated prompt number 25! We’re down to the last few now! So for this one, the elevator didn’t fall, because if it did, I think exhaustion would’ve been the least of Cassie’s problems, lol. Anyway. Best friends, best friends, best friends!!!

Atlas

Gregory tore into the pizzaplex, ignoring Vanessa’s calls for him to wait. He’d made this place bow to his whims once, he could do it again, and all he cared about was his friend, lost somewhere in the darkness. Nothing would stand in his way.

The last thing Cassie had been able to say before her walkie-talkie fizzled out, batteries dead, was that the elevator had taken her to a hallway she didn’t recognize. So she at least wasn’t in the bowels of the building, where evil things lingered even after being laid to rest.

With only a flashlight and his memory to guide him, Gregory scrambled over debris and through wreckage, focused only on making his way closer to Cassie.

Guilt ate at him. Sure, it hadn’t actually been him luring Cassie to her near-doom, but it had been his voice and their friendship that led her there. And he hadn’t been fast enough to stop her, hadn’t been able to steal back the connection to her walkie-talkie until it was very nearly too late. He dashed away his angry tears with a fist and forged onwards.

The pizzaplex was creepily silent but for some dripping and creaking. His time lost in its walls had been full of music and Freddy’s voice and the animatronics’ annoying chatter.

He almost dared any of the bots to try and stop him. If they thought he was ruthless before…

As he broke through a locked door near the raceway, he started to call out Cassie’s name every minute or two, hoping he was close. He didn’t know exactly where the elevator was, but based on Cassie’s description, he stuck to the employee hallways.

Coming to a stairwell in his frantic search, he shoved through the door, leaned over the railing and hollered, “Cassie!” at the top of his lungs. It echoed eerily.

He held his breath, straining to listen. Please, he thought, please, please, be here, be close.

After an agonizingly long moment of silence, there came a faint clack clack clack from below.

Gregory all but hurled himself down the stairs. He didn’t even pause to worry that it wasn’t Cassie, that it was a trick from some bot or another. If it was, they’d regret it.

“Cassie!” he shouted, pausing between floors a few flights down. “Where are you?”

The clacking was louder this time, close, and sounded like plastic on concrete. Following it to the next lowest door, which he nearly yanked off its hinges.

He cast his flashlight beam down the pitch-black corridor, and there, curled against the wall, was Cassie. Her face was shiny with tears and smeared with dirt; the rest of her was coated in dust and grime. Her sweater was ripped in places and dotted with blood here and there. She was missing a shoe.

“Gregory,” she croaked, her voice hoarse and cracking. Her breathing was labored, and fear speared through him. She hadn’t mentioned being that badly hurt.

He let out a pained noise and shot to her side without any conscious thought. In one hand, she gripped her flashlight with white knuckles.

“It died,” she whispered, seeing him glance at it. “And it was so dark, I… I couldn’t…” Her shoulders shook.

After setting his own on the floor so it shone upward, illuminating the ceiling to best spread the light, Gregory scooted closer and pulled her into a hug. She dropped her flashlight and wrapped her arms over his shoulders, tucking her face against his neck. He squeezed as tight as he dared, and it was an awful thought, but he hoped her her heavy breaths came from panic instead of injury. At the very least, she didn’t wince when he tugged her closer like he wanted them to sink into each other so thoroughly that no one would be able to tell them apart.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered into her messy hair. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

Cassie shook her head. “It wasn’t your fault.”

Gregory whined. But wasn’t it?

“And—you’re here. You came,” she said, relieved and awed all at once. Not surprised, though, thank goodness—that probably would’ve carved Gregory’s heart out of his chest, if she’d been surprised that he wouldn’t just leave her there in the dark ruins of the pizzaplex.

“Duh,” he mumbled.

She giggled tiredly. “I want to leave,” she said. But she didn’t let go, so neither did Gregory.

Gregory’s watch crackled after a long few minutes of their quiet breathing. “Gregory?” Freddy asked, the connection staticky. They’d left him in the car. “Vanessa texted me. She said you ran off, and now she cannot find you.”

“I’m fine,” he said. “I found Cassie. I, uh, don’t really know where we are other than near the raceway. We’ll head back for the lobby, okay?”

Freddy sighed, fondly exasperated. “I will let her know.” The call silenced with a click.

“I don’t think I can walk,” Cassie admitted. “Not, not because I’m hurt. I just.” She sighed, sagging more heavily against him. “I’m so tired.”

“I’ll carry you,” Gregory said, suddenly beyond desperate to get Cassie out of the building by whatever means necessary.

Dubiously, she protested, “It’s a long way—”

“I’ll carry you,” he repeated. “Piggyback.”

After a pause, Cassie nodded. They let go of each other with extreme reluctance, and Gregory turned around and settled into a crouch. It seemed to take all of Cassie’s remaining strength to stand and climb on his back. He passed her the flashlight.

They were really close in size—Gregory barely had an inch on Cassie—but as he carefully stood and secured his hold under her knees, he knew he’d carry her as far and as long as she needed him to, no matter how tired he got.

“I’ve got you, Cassie,” he said, heading back to the stairwell. She leaned her head against his, exhausted. “You’re safe now.”

She hummed. “Duh,” she whispered.

He snickered, and she did too, and they went into the ruins together.

#i answered a thing #anonymous #fnaf fic #fnaf ruin #star's stories #life and times of star

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wayward-dreamer · 2 years

Text

Enrapture

Square/s Filled: Mirror Sex - @anyfandomgoesbingo Custom The Boys card

Pairing: Soldier Boy x Female!Reader

Word count: 4,000

Summary: Y/N is a P.A on the Solid Gold music program, and is excited for Soldier Boy's appearance. She hopes to catch his attention for a few seconds, but doesn't expect him to take such an interest in her.

Warnings: Swearing, some angst, Soldier Boy being a Grade A asshole, drug use, A WHOLE LOTTA SMUT: dirty talk, degradation, oral sex (male receiving), deepthroating, face fucking, brief female masturbation, brief mention of glory holes, nipple play, mirror sex, hair pulling, spanking, unprotected sex (SB pulls out), hand job, cum swallowing. EXTREMELY NSFW 18+ ONLY. A touch of narcissism, more assholery.

A/N: I am officially OBSESSED with how this turned out, so I hope you guys like it! As always, happy reading and enjoy! :) beta’d by my love @evergreencowboy (sorry not sorry for killing you lol)

Y/N had always prided herself on doing her job in a timely manner and doing it correctly.

When she was hired as a P.A for the Solid Gold segment at one of the major television stations, it was unexpected to say the least. She had applied, but considering the entertainment industry was so male dominated, she was sure it was going to slip through her fingers. Then one day she got the call that the job was hers, and she never looked back after it. There was never a dull moment on the set of the music program, especially when supes were invited to join the hour. Sometimes they would be surprisingly good, and other times it was clear they were just there to fulfill their duties from talent management at Vought American.

When Y/N found out who was coming into film their appearance that day she tried not to implode with excitement. Soldier Boy would be at the studio, and she had made sure to clip her gold Soldier Boy inspired pin to her blouse, in the hopes that he would notice if she got to meet him.

“Do you know when he’s gonna be here?” one of the other P.A’s, Josh, asked her as soon as she arrived in the studio.

“He should actually be here soon,” she informed him, grinning.

Just as Y/N picked up one of the walkie-talkies and clipped it to her thick belt, her head whipped around as the sound of heavy boots coming down the hallway reached her ears. She stepped forward, an enamoured smile pulling at her lips as she noticed the swagger with which Soldier Boy walked into the room. His eyes met no one’s as he passed by, an entourage behind him, chattering quickly as they followed him to the assigned dressing room. She saw a small flash of his green suit before he disappeared around the corner, her heart beating fast with the exhilaration of seeing him in the flesh.

She had only ever seen him on television appearances or his old movies that she loved to watch with her parents, but never just mere inches away. She couldn’t wait to tell her family; they were going to freak out.

“That was so awesome,” Josh breathed, stunned by the supe’s presence.

“I kn-” she was about to agree when they both jumped, seeing one of their co-workers being shoved out of the dressing room, his back hitting the wall.

“Did no one get the memo about iced?!”

Y/N eyes widened as she heard the booming voice of the beloved supe echo across the studio. Everyone was in shock as they looked at each other, unsure of what to do. She gulped as she saw her boss stalking towards her, his pace frantic as he pulled her aside.

“He’s in a mood, so I need you to go get an iced coffee from that coffee shop down the street,” he instructed her, glancing back to the dressing room before he looked at her again, “and uh, make sure the ice isn’t melting by the time you get back.”

“Bill, it’s a hundred degrees outside, it’s gonna be melting as soon as I get out of the store,” she hissed, her features pulling into an annoyed expression. He had to come to her with this? Seriously?

“I don’t care what you do, just do it,” he countered, glaring at her. With that as his last word, he left.

“Fuck,” she gritted out between her clenched teeth, picking up her purse from where it was hanging from the chair.

She knew she had to move quickly lest someone else get yelled at unnecessarily. She was nothing if not professional and she wasn’t about to let the needless display of entitlement from Soldier Boy change that.

She’d leave that out when she retold the events of her day to her family.

Y/N hurried down the hallway, biting her lip as she looked down at the iced coffee swishing inside the clear cup. She moved as fast as her heeled boots could take her, stopping in front of the dreaded dressing room, taking a deep breath. From the other cup in her hand, she dropped a few of the ice cubes from the top into the coffee, throwing the rest in the trash nearby. Fixing her thick belt around her waist and fluffing her hair, she tapped her knuckles against the door three times.

“What?”

She held her breath as she opened the door, slowly, offering a polite smile even though she only saw the back of him. “Just brought you this, sir.”

She walked in, her eyes widening in shock as she saw him bent over the make-up table, inhaling deeply as he raised his head, wiping under his nose. She placed the cup down and stepped back, ready to leave, only to cringe inwardly as he stopped her.

“Hold on,” he muttered, pushing his chair back and facing her, his green eyes staring up at her from where he sat.

He lifted his hand, covered by fingerless red gloves, and picked up the coffee. He took the straw out of it and removed the lid, his eyes never leaving her as he took a sip. She clenched her fists at her sides and felt her stomach turn, trying not to let her nerves get the better of her as she felt like he was assessing her with his intense gaze. She tried not to look at him, but his perfect green orbs were incredibly distracting.

“At least someone got the fucking message,” he stated, his voice deep and rough as his stare never faltered, placing the cup in the holder on his chair.

She huffed a small laugh, shaking her head. “Is there anything else you need, sir?”

His head tilted slightly as he observed her body language, her squared shoulders, head held up high. “You don’t seem like the other people here.”

“What makes you say that?” she asked, frowning.

“Well for one you can look me in the eye without fucking stuttering,” he replied, his eyes locking with hers. “I do like confidence in a woman.”

“Just doing my job, sir,” she countered, clasping her hands together, not letting him intimidate her.

One side of his mouth pulled up into a smirk as he leaned back in his chair, his gaze roaming up and down the length of her body. “And you’re doing a mighty fine one, doll. I’m sure there’s plenty of others you’re good at too.”

A shiver ran down Y/N’s spine at his words. She knew what he was implying, and she should’ve been disgusted, but she found herself having the exact opposite reaction as she squeezed her thighs together under her skirt. He had clearly noticed that as his gaze dropped down to the fabric of her skirt when it shifted, making her cheeks heat up. Slowly, he stood up from the chair and took two short strides towards her, his body close to hers. He glanced down at her blouse, his fingers plucking at the pin, shaped like his shield, before looking deep into her eyes.

“Someone’s a fan,” he remarked, the charming smirk once again gracing his features. “That pin’s rare, hasn’t been produced since the 50s.”

“It was my father’s,” she stated, as she met his gaze. “My family… we’re big fans.”

That seemed to impress him, his eyebrows raising in approval. “Well, I appreciate that.”

Y/N undid the pin, cursing under her breath as it fell out of her hand. She knelt, picking it up from near the leg of the table, brushing off some of the dirt that was coating it.

“It was easier to get you on your knees than I thought it would be.” He looked down at her with a smug grin pulling at his lips, raising an eyebrow in a silent challenge. “So long as you’re down there, why don’t you show me one of those jobs I just know you’re a fucking pro at?”

Y/N gazed up at him, her eyes briefly flicking down to the front of his suit, watching his hand pull the zip of the pants down before she met his eyes again. She could see the shape of his cock, making the blood rush to her cheeks. With a small smirk of her own, she shifted closer to him, reaching through the zip and taking out his cock. She wasn’t sure what came over her to do it, but considering how much she had always liked the supe, she couldn’t stop herself. She couldn’t help but be intrigued by him. A choked gasp left her as she took in the length of his shaft, her hand wrapped around his thick girth, slowly stroking him. He was petty and probably had the biggest ego of the supes, but she found it hard to give a damn with his cock in her palm. She pumped her hand a little faster, her fingers forming a ring under the head and twisting slightly, causing a soft grunt to leave his lips. He was getting hard in her hold, making her squeeze her legs together once more.

“Come on, sugar, put that mouth to good use,” he ordered, his voice deep and rough as he looked down at her.

She leaned forward, dropping her saliva along the length of his cock, softly sucking at the tip, licking at the pre-cum. She took him into her mouth, a soft choke escaping her as the head pressed against her throat. She pulled back slightly before sinking her mouth back down, building a steady pace, bobbing her head back and forth, circling her tongue around the tip every time she drew back.

“Fuck,” he groaned, the noise turning into a dark chuckle as he closed his eyes, throwing his head back.

“Y/N, we need you in studio B,” her radio cracked, interrupting the moment.

Holding his hand out, she fumbled to unclip the walkie-talkie from her belt and pass it to him as she continued to move along his length. Pressing the button, he stared down at her with a smirk as he spoke. Her hands came up to assist her mouth, stroking the base of his cock, his green orbs boring into hers.

“She’s got her hands full right now,” he muttered, turning off the radio and throwing it over his shoulder, hearing it clatter against the floor.

His gloved hands slipped into her hair and guided her head down, a long moan vibrating against his shaft as he pressed into the back of her throat. He fisted the strands of her hair and pulled her back, a harsh gasp leaving her as her lungs burned, breathing heavily. He growled as he brought her head back down but kept her still, thrusting his hips forward. A glugging sound left her as he continued fuck her throat, spit collecting at the corners of her mouth. Tears pricked her eyes as she gagged lightly, her eyes never leaving his. They spilled down her cheeks as the pressure built in her throat, causing her mascara to run.

“Fuck, doll, your mouth’s a fucking dream,” he husked, his hands firmly holding her head in place. “Taking my dick so good…”

She moaned around him as her hands moved to cling to his hips, needing something to hold onto, but he clicked his tongue in disapproval, making her glance up at him.

“Spread your legs, sugar,” he ordered, grunting at the feel of her lips around him, “get that pussy fucking drippin’ for me…”

Y/N shifted slightly, pulling up her skirt enough to open her legs, her hand slipping under the waistband of her cotton panties. She ran her fingers through her folds, feeling how wet she was already, pressing them to her clit and running them over in tight circles.

“Christ, your mouth’s fucking perfect,” he groaned, throwing his head back as he held her head still. He looked down at her with hooded eyes, smirking as his fingers scraped against her scalp. “Maybe I should take you back to Vought, use you as my own, personal glory hole, huh? Have you suck me off every night… every morning… keep your slut mouth full of my spunk. How’s that sound, doll? Want to be a good little slut for me?”

Gathering her hair in his hands, Soldier Boy pulled her back once again, a harsh groan escaping her as strings of her saliva extended from his cock to her mouth. Her gaze grew dark as she looked up at him, somehow getting more aroused than she thought possible at the idea of what he just suggested.

“Up,” he ordered, tapping his hand against her cheek as he stepped back.

Y/N stood up gradually, her legs wobbling as she tried to steady herself. Before she could completely recover, he grabbed her hips and bent her over the table, kicking her legs apart and pulling her hips back as her hands pressed into the surface, supporting her weight. He roughly pushed her skirt up her thighs, their eyes meeting in the mirror in front of them. He still wore that smug expression as his hands reached the front of her body, gripping the middle of her blouse and yanking it hard, the fabric shredding to expose her breasts. He pulled down the cups of her bra, roughly tweaking her nipples between his fingers and pinching hard, causing a loud moan to slip out of her mouth.

“You like that, dollface?” he asked, grinning as he repeated the action over her left, only harder, a little more painful.

“Yes, fuck,” she gasped, dropping her head forward as her eyes squeezed shut.

He chuckled, the noise sounding almost sinister to her. “Someone likes a little pain…”

He tugged at the edge of her panties and pulled, ripping them off her lower body as easily as her blouse. Taking hold of his cock, he smacked the tip against her folds, a low moan leaving her as she anticipated what was coming next. In one swift move of his hips, he was buried deep inside her, a grunt falling from his lips as he felt her walls completely sheath his length.

“Fuck, you’re tight,” he hissed, his hand squeezing the flesh of her hip. “Sucking my dick got you nice and wet, so fucking perfect…”

The pace he set was slow but hard, every harsh thrust pushing air out of her lungs, the table shaking from the force. She moaned softly as she lifted her head, her breath fogging up the mirror. His hips smacked against the curve of her ass, his hands once again in her hair as he held her still.

“How’s it feel, sugar?” he asked, leaning over her slightly, his gaze meeting hers in the reflective glass. “Like having my dick fucking you deep and hard, huh? I can see it in your eyes, and your face says it all…”

“Yeah,” she cried out, nodding frantically.

He hummed in dissatisfaction, pulling at the strands of her hair roughly, making her squeal as their eyes stayed locked on each other. “Gonna need a little more than that, dollface. Tell me how it feels.”

“Good,” she whimpered, continuing to look at him through the mirror. “Feels so good, sir.”

A loud, wanton moan erupted from her as he picked up the pace, the top of the mirror banging into the wall behind it with the impact of his hips. His thrusts were brutal, the head of his cock pressing against her cervix as he moved deep within her, one hand still in her hair as the other lifted above the globes of her ass, bringing it down hard. She practically screamed as she stared at her reflection, barely recognizing herself through the euphoric glint in her eyes. She was completely enraptured by him and the pleasure coursing through her. It should’ve been painful because of his strength, she should’ve left before he had the chance to stop her, she should’ve been repulsed by the entitlement she had heard, but in that moment she was too far gone to care. She whimpered as he leaned over her once again, his lips close to her ear.

“Tell me what I wanna hear, sugar,” he whispered, his pupils blown wide with lust and the drugs he had before she came into the room.

“Feels so good, sir… so perfect,” she moaned loudly, her nails scraping against the surface of the table. The items on top started to roll off, dropping on the floor as it continued to shake under them, but she wasn’t bothered. If someone had told her that morning that this would be happening, she wouldn’t have believed it. “So perfect, sir.”

He smirked, his teeth nipping at the shell of her ear as his flippy locks fell into his face. “Again.”

“Your cock feels so perfect, sir,” she repeated, a smile of her own pulling at one side of her lips.

“Louder,” he grunted, squeezing the right cheek of her ass in his hand.

She raised her voice as she did as she was told, but squealed as his hand struck her again, the impact against her flesh causing her legs to quiver.

“Louder,” he groaned, tugging on the strands of her hair again, “I want everyone in that studio to hear how much of a fan you really are…”

“Your cock feels so fucking perfect, sir!” she yelled, her eyes shutting tightly.

“Fuck yeah,” he groaned, chuckling as he stood upright, thrusting hard against her. “God, your pussy’s taking me so fucking good, can feel how close you are.”

Y/N’s erratic breathing continued to fog up the glass, her walls clenching tight around him, and she knew she was almost at the peak of pleasure. She could feel the familiar heat deep in her core, a loud whimper escaping her as he pounded into her. The build-up wasn’t long, and before she realized it, she pressed her forehead against the mirror as a breathy shriek left her, the dam breaking as her slick covered his shaft.

“Fuck, doll, you soaked my cock,” he growled, suddenly pulling out and grabbing her arms, “down on your knees, wanna feel that mouth around my dick again, cum down that throat. Can’t have any surprises now… with anyone else, maybe.”

Y/N didn’t have a second to process what he said as she knelt on the floor, wrapping her lips around his cock and bobbing her head back and forth. He pressed his hands into the back of her head, the weight helping her sink down on his shaft.

“That’s it, sugar,” he husked, looking down at her with hooded eyes. “Keep jerking my cock, make me cum.”

She pulled back, wrapping her hand around his shaft and pumping her wrist up and down swiftly, her mouth open and waiting as she moaned. His eyes squeezed shut as he threw his head back, a strained yet guttural moan escaping him as his cock throbbed in Y/N’s hand. She whimpered as ropes of his cum covered her tongue and lips, her mouth closing around the tip as she sucked, softly. She took everything he had to give, gulping as his seed slipped down her throat, before she drew back.

“Fuckkkk,” he rasped, grinning as he stepped back, turning away from her. He grabbed the box of tissues off the floor and placed them back on the table, taking a few to clean himself off, disposing them in the trash.

Y/N stood up on shaky legs, glancing at her dishevelled state in the mirror. She pulled her skirt down and fixed her bra, methodically doing what she needed to because she couldn’t think straight. She wiped her mouth and hands with the tissues and patted her hair down, making sure it was decent before she had to step back out. She had no idea how she was going to look anyone in the eye now, after they had no doubt heard her getting thoroughly fucked by Soldier Boy.

“Ben, what the fuck’s taking so long?!” they heard someone yell before the door burst open, the man they called The Legend standing in the threshold. He took the scene in front of him, throwing his hands up in frustration. “Seriously?”

“Get that fucking stick out of your ass,” Soldier Boy, Ben as he was really named, snapped, glaring at him. “You’ve walked in on worse.”

“Believe me, I know and really wish I could forget,” The Legend countered, shaking his head as he walked out. “Be out there in five!” he called out.

She turned away and picked up some safety pins, managing to mend her blouse back together, hiding the pins inside. From the corner of her eye, she saw Soldier Boy zip his pants up, his hand combing through his flippy locks before he picked up his helmet, placing it on his head.

“That sure was something, dollface,” he stated, looking at himself in the mirror, avoiding her gaze now.

She watched him admire his face in the mirror, smirk, his perfect teeth on display as he winked at himself. He shifted back and picked up the iced coffee from the cup holder in his chair, taking a sip. He cringed as his eyes closed, his nostrils flaring before he opened his lids, his pupils blown wide from the drugs and his simmering anger. The ice had obviously melted by now.

“Mind running out and getting another?” he asked, his voice deep and husky, but there was a slight edge to it now that wasn’t there before. Dropping the cup in the trash, he fixed the collar around his neck, before tapping her shoulder as he walked past, his eyes still averted from hers. “Thanks, darling. You’re a peach.”

Y/N’s jaw clenched tight as she squared her shoulders, her features pulling into a deep frown as she watched him leave, without so much as a glance her way. She didn’t know why she expected him to look at her but considering he couldn’t take his eyes off her as he pounded her into next week, a quick glimpse in her direction would’ve been nice. She collected herself, picking up her walkie-talkie from the floor and clipping it back on her belt. She looked down at the Soldier Boy pin that she loved, lying on the table, the reality of what just happened making her pick it up and throw it in the trash. Her family didn’t need to know.

She didn’t glance back at the room as she closed the door, her boots echoing in the hallway as she made her way to studio B. She stood in the shadows, clipboard in hand and headset on, ready for the flashing red light to turn off and recording to start. She watched Soldier Boy’s eye wander to the dancers and rolled her eyes as she saw him smirk. The charisma was oozing out of him, something that would’ve floored her before their dressing room encounter. Truthfully, she was ashamed to admit it still did even if she saw him differently now.

The bell rang as the red light switched off and signalled the start of the recording, making her look down at her schedule. She was perfectly fine with missing the show.

It’s Solid Gold! Starring Marilyn McCoo, with Solid Gold recording stars Kim Carnes, The Oak Ridge Boys, Waylan Flowers and Madame, the Solid Gold dancers, and very special guest, Soldier Boy!

She was going to do the job she was assigned to do. The one she was good at and prided herself on. She had other duties than just making sure the talent was taken care of, so those were the ones she was going to do, not take orders from Soldier Boy. No matter how much of a fan she used to be.

But she found her resolve slipping as she lifted her gaze to see him performing.

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quill-of-thoth · 7 months

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It's apparently Little Shop of Horrors day, so let me tell you all about the time I was house manager for the worst musical of, if not all time, the 20zeroes.

I was a theater kid in a school that did NOT do musicals. For crosstown rivalry reasons and a bunch of other stuff. The other high school did musicals so all you choir divas go try out over there. Also casting at my high school was highly correlated with seniority, AKA you were more likely to get speaking parts as an upperclassman, assuming you had been in any play before.

However, my junior year we got a new drama teacher, and therefore a budget, and therefore a spate of more musicals and small cast plays to perform. I got cast in zero things because my acting was pretty mid and my ability to sing is... not. However I was both one of the few non-graduating upperclassmen and The Responsible One and my presence building set / herding freshman / going off book early resulted in fewer stitches, so I got to be house manager. In high school theater, house manager shows up at call to help with things, then opens the ticket booth, answers questions on the walkie, and is the person fourteen year old ushers come to when somebody's mom needs to be sent to the special hell for people who talk on their cell phones in the theater. We did our very first school musical in like a decade, Little Shop of Horrors, in january.

If the Gifs have not clued you in, Little Shop of Horrors is the story of a florist's assistant who mistakes a man eating alien for a talking plant and decides to feed his crush's abusive boyfriend to it. This is not a weird plot for musicals, BUT it requires some prep work. 1) The Chorus tells a lot of the story, so in order to Give Everyone A Chance and to keep everyone's barely trained vocal chords in good shape, we double casted the chorus. Meaning that on nights where they weren't singing, they were supposed to usher, because we never had enough ushers and there were too many of them for all of them to fulfil their crew obligations building set.

2) There are three chorus leads. Some performances have them be the whole chorus but our director had ambitions, so we had three chorus leads and like ten background chorus members per chorus. Performing alternating nights. In the same set of matching RENTED costumes. (Background chorus wore their choir performance duds I think.) 3) Audrey 2, the "plant" is a puppet of some description, large enough to eat a successful dentist. Meaning that somebody has to be mic'd up to voice him, and somebody ELSE has to make him move. And you have to get him on and off stage, or configure the stage in such a way that he can be covered up. Ours rolled. I had only occasionally been on set crew for Little Shop, and most of the chorus hadn't been at all because of their choir schedules, so I rolled up opening night at half past call expecting an hour of running errands for people and an easy house opening. The Stage Manager handed me my walkie and said "I already hate this," which was just her personality regarding opening nights but which should have been a warning. I was quickly informed that The Chorus was being kept in the empty choir room upstairs of the stage because there were too many of them to stay in the dressing rooms, so there was going to be a LOT of walkie chatter about cues. We also had to shuffle in a dude from light crew to drop the show's only F-bomb, because the freshman voicing Audrey 2 hadn't known it existed when he tried out and was now in a tizzy because his Very Religious Grandma was coming. So I had to keep an aisle clear up in the nosebleeds so a crew guy could sneak in the dark from the spotlights to the sound booth to delightedly yell Fuck into the microphone. "We never get people in the nosebleeds anyway," I told Stage Manager, who shrugged unhappily. "Chorus of twenty. Choir kids. Musical."

Spotlight guy, passing by, said something like "I can handle it."

I did some emergency stitching on somebody's loose costume button, sorted out some props, ran around blocking off or opening doors, and then opened the house. With ONE usher because the Chorus Ushers were late. "Isn't their call time twenty to opening?" I asked the one reliable usher, who was build crew only, and he shrugged. I told him to put people as far to the front as he could, no exceptions, and not to use the stage left nosebleeds, and continued taking tickets and cash. We already had a crowd when the Chorus Ushers arrived - Late, not appropriately dressed, or telling me that they had to leave before the show was over because their parents did not want to pick them up any later than that time. I volunteered to tell their parents that having a kid in a show was a commitment that included days that they were not performing and that we had several reliable upperclassmen running carpool if they had emergencies. Only one of the ushers took me up on it, so I decided that we could close missing one usher since we had more than usual anyway, and signed them all in. I walkied the Director that we had all the ushers we were gonna get and that they were late but we had it under control, which was the last time ANYTHING was under control that night. The first obvious problem was that the Chorus Ushers didn't seat anyone, which was literally their one job. They just... walked in and out of the theater following people? I had to leave Reliable at the cash box and demonstrate, then move people out of the one row reserved for ushers and the closed off nosebleed area. Someone, probably Spotlight, had cordoned it off with duct tape so I don't know why they even tried. Then I had to explain that you cannot save a whole row so that tall people do not come and block your view. And then somebody wanted a half off ticket because they intended to leave at intermission. And somebody else wanted to pay by credit card even though they'd had weeks of warning that we were not set up to do that. Add in people jockeying for seats and ushers sneaking off to hang with friends or family and by the time the lights went down I was composing some strongly worded advice to our director about training ushers and making sure that showing up to usher one night wasn't the whole price of being in the cast. Then, in the middle of the second song, a phone rang. "Hi Mom. No, the play has started. Yes I have a ride home. No, dad decided he wouldn't - It's fine -" "Excuse me, Ma'am," I hissed to the rapidly confiscated phone, tugging the usher towards the back doors by the hoodie, "Your daughter is working and we do not allow cell phones in the theater." "But -" "All calls must be taken IN THE HALLWAY (which we had reached by then) and your ringer is expected to be off." "And who are you?" "The Stage Manager," I said, like I was an actual responsible party, and hung up. "When you are done sorting this out, I expect neither you, nor your phone, to make a single sound for the rest of this play. Any upperclassman with an available car seat will give you a ride home if you need it." That made one freshie with the fear of House Manager put into them properly, hopefully it meant she'd behave in general. And walkie hell immediately broke loose. In the next, possibly forty minutes, by virtue of being the person who had already left the auditorium and was wearing normal clothes, I learned the following:

someone needed to run a repair kit up to the chorus holding room

Because Second Night Choral Lead (on props duty) and Opening Night Choral lead had gotten into a slapfight about discovering that they shared the costume

consisting of shoving and shouting that one of them would ruin it for the other because she was "too fat" for a one size fits all wrap dress

And inevitably torn it

Stage Manager could not handle this

Because she'd gone up to Choral Holding Area to tell everybody else in the chorus to shut the fuck up because they could be heard ON STAGE

And the Choir Divas had decided to lock her in a closet

so somebody allowed to have building keys (director) had to come and let her out and put the fear of god into them

So someone ELSE who knew blocking had to move to cues position

Because The Dude in The Plant was relying on that

So I had to go help cover for whatever they should be doing that didn't involve knowing the script

And somebody else had to go whipstitch Opening Night Choral Lead back into her damn dress before their next cue

Also The Dude In The Plant was concerned because the rolling portion of the stage felt kinda wrong? The part he was on? Inside the plant puppet?

The director needed a List Of People Whose Parents Were Going To Be Called after the play because we do not lock people into storage closets

And don't think he won't ALSO tell on you to the choir director who will have you out of SO MANY performances for this behavior.

Audrey the Human just tripped over something that shouldn't be backstage because Choral Lead two is being read the riot act instead of doing props

WHOEVER IS RUBBING FABRIC ON THEIR MIC OVER THE WALKIES NEEDS TO TURN IT OFF

Sorry the micbox is right next to the dress tear

The Dude in Audrey the Plant just felt something move that should not

The Dude Voicing Audrey the Plant informs me that one of my ushers has left and also left the door to the auditorium wide open

Surprisingly it is not little miss phone call

Anyway he's trapped in the sound booth waiting for his cue and Reliable Usher doesn't have a walkie

Chorus is back on stage, the riot act is in intermission, Background Chorus Choir Divas have declared that if they are removed from the Chorus for being loud assholes and derailing the whole cast and crew they won't usher and then where will we be?

GREAT! I DON'T WANT THEM!

Choral Lead Two is crying in the boys dressing room instead of running props because nobody's currently using the boys dressing room

Because Choral Lead One will be standing around in a spare sheet in the girls' dressing room while we fix her dress during intermission.

Dude in the Plant says, very quietly, "fuck"

As the combined weight of chorus and cast and plant muppet and dude in the plant and choreography breaks one of the casters on the set

Which fortunately only falls like a quarter inch so everyone stumbles and nobody is hurt

"Should I help?" No, Dude Voicing The Plant, STAY WHERE YOU ARE YOU ARE THE ONLY THING ABOUT THIS THAT'S GOING WELL

Chorus and Crew and Everyone except me (because I'm hunting for a MIA usher) is trying to deal with that rolling bit of set under the cover of SON BE A DEEEEENTIST, YOU'LL BE A SUCCESS!

Congrats my missing usher has not been teen-napped. She saw me putting the fear of god and of me into her castmate about cell phones and has stepped outside the entire building to I Do Not Care What But This Conversation can Wait we LEGALLY have to know where you are

Hey who is the fastest / most invisible sewer we have? Because this dress is messed up worse than we thought. We need them for all of intermission

Me, possibly, except I am working intermission?

Can you come at call tomorrow and fix it? We have safety pins

Sure

Why are there no safety pins in the safety pins box

I dunno why don't you ask the kid who was literally making a safety pin necklace last time I was at set build

Who?

IDK they're new probably

Rolling stage has been fixed! Well. Assuming we don't want it to move.

"Am I safe to eat the guy?" Yes, Dude In The Plant, chow down on our dentist, the set will hold.

Intermission.

THANK FUCK

A twenty five minute intermission is totally normal, Sirs and Ma'ams. Please feel free to buy cold stale football field popcorn.

Phonecall usher "Uh. So My dad. Decided he wasn't going to come pick me up at intermission."

I gave her the name of the senior with a car that I thought would be feeling least murderous, because I am not a complete monster.

No, sir, you cannot show up for the second half of a play and expect a half priced ticket. It is five. Goddamn. Dollars. Anyway somehow the worst thing that happened on second night was Dude Voicing the Plant deciding that he was actually brave and secular enough to do the swears so we got TWO people saying fuck directly into the microphone. He still passed on Tough Titties though.

#little shop of horrors #easily the worst play I was in #for a given value of in

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