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catracorner962 · 4 years ago

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Karaoke

I promise I can write something that’s pure fluff. See?!

In the newly renovated Fright Zone, the gang is having a party. Catra and Glimmer duet Shaggy. Catra has a surprise. --- AJ Michalka has a phenomenal voice and covers "Warriors" on the SheRa soundtrack. She does this in character as Catra and even says "Hey Adora," at the end, what else did you expect me to do with that except come up with an excuse for Catra to sing this for Adora? I'm sure this has been done before this is just my take. Also whenever I hear "Wasn't Me," or "Angel," by Shaggy I imagine Glimmer and Catra getting drunk and singing it.

Adora brought a hand to her nose, trying to cover her snorting laughter. Besider her Bow swayed in time to the music. Light flashed from above blue and pink.

“HA!!”

Adora couldn’t stop herself, exploding into a fit of giggles, nearly toppling the cocktail in her hand. Nearly sending pink liquid all over her white pants and halter top.

On the stage, her girlfriend and her best friend sang like they hadn’t a care in the world.

“How could I forget that I had given her an extra key? All this time she was standing there she never took her eyes off me!”

Glimmer sang into the mic, her purple leather skirt sparkling in the stage lights.

“Wooow! Yeah Glimmer!” Bow cheered, he took another sip of his beer. More delicately then anyone else around them and probably the only one with a modicum of sobriety left. All around them people sang along, swaying and trying to dance.

“To be a true player you have to know how to play!” Catra sang, winking at Adora from her place on the stage. Her hair had grown out again in the year after the war. Already falling just beyond her shoulders. Adora took a sip of her drink to conceal the blush rising in her cheeks.

“ To be a true player you have to know how to play, if she stay a night, convince her stay a day, Never admit to a word when she say. And if she claim, ah, you tell her, "Baby, no way"

“But she caught me on the counter!” Glimmer’s voice cracked but she kept going,

“It wasn’t me!” Catra leaned forward into the mic.

“Saw me banging on the sofa!” Glimmer laughed, leaning in to meet Catra halfway.

“It wasn’t me!”

“I even had her in the shower!”

“They’re not bad,” Bow admitted whispering in Adora’s ear. The blonde nodded, pulling a loose strand of her hair behind her ear. Catra had convinced her to wear it down for once.

“Saw the marks on my shoulder!” Glimmer and Catra sang in unison. Catra unsheathed her claws in flash, winking again, this time a little more suggestively at her girlfriend in the audience. Cheers erupted throughout the bar, an eager welcome Adora thought, her chest warming. To have Catra greeted with rounds of applause rather than boos and hisses and threats.

“ Honey came in and she caught me red-handed, creeping with the girl next door, picture this, we were both butt-naked, banging on the bathroom floor. I had tried to keep her from what she was about to see, why should she believe me when I told her it wasn't me.”

Glimmer and Catra belted through the mic. It was all Adora could do not to transform into Shera. Just the sight of seeing Catra in the limelight, black pants held up by suspenders, her white shirt open just a tad too loose. She took a swig of her whisky mid chorus and continued to sing.

“I have to hand it to Scorpia and Perfuma; they've really done wonders with the Fright Zone,” Bow mused. He clapped along to the music and finished his drink.

“They sure have!” Adora answered, finally turning her attention from the stage. “Glad they were able to renovate the place into a karaoke bar. Somewhere in the distance Mermista’s groan could be heard, Adora turned. Seahawk and the water princess sat at one of the tables, the pirate’s eyes wide with amazement at the flaming martini set down before him.

“Should I….?” Adora made a b-line towards their table. Mermista flunk out her hand, a spray of water dousing the flames.

“Just drink it,” she groaned to Seahawk’s evident dismay. Adora bit back a grin. It had been awhile since they’d been able to just kickback and relax, indulge even. Post-war meant bringing magic to all the galaxy. Which meant traveling around, squashing the last of Prime’s brotherhood. Plus meetings after meetings and much needed reconciliation between Catra, Entrapta, Wrong Hordak, Scorpia and everyone else. It had been trying and difficult and the work was far from finished. But tonight, tonight was a chance to simply let loose.

“Honey came in and she caught me red-handed, creeping with the girl next door, picture this, we were both butt-naked, banging on the bathroom floor. How could I forget that I had, given her an extra key, All this time she was standing there, she never took her eyes off me!!” Glimmer and Catra finished in unison. Again cheers lifted from the crowd. Glimmer bowed, losing her balance until Catra caught her by the arm to steady her and they made their way down the stage.

“Wow, that was...wow,” Scorpia’s face nearly matched the color of her claws. “That was..I don’t think I understood half those words! But uhh next, next...we have...Perfuma! Who I’ve been told is going to do an...an interpretive dance called Ode to Rain, so that will be….uhh….fantastic.” Scorpia laughed nervously but clapped all the same while Perfuma seemingly floated up the stage.

“Hey!” Glimmer greeted Adora with a hug and Bow with a kiss.

“You were great!” Bow put his arm around her waist. “Who knew you and Catra could duet so well together!”

Glimmer laughed, full and hearty, accepting a glass of sparkling wine from Bow.

“Where is Catra?” Adora looked around the crowd. “I thought she came down with you?”

“She said she had to get ready for something,” Glimmer shrugged.

Adora nodded, trying to quell the bubble of anxiety that threatened to rise.

Catra would be fine, she can be left alone. She’s not a child. She’s perfectly capable.

Bodies pressed against Adora in the maylay of the crowd. Talking and drinking and laughing. The lights flashed all around them. Dizzying.

There’s so many people here….what if...there could be….threats. Some clone we forgot?

Someone wanting to take Catra down?

Adora forced herself to breathe, gripping her glass tight.

“Adora, you alright?” Glimmer touched her arm.

“Yes!” She smiled automatically, “I’m great!” She took a breath, eyes flicking upward as Perfuma left the stage.

Still no sign of Catra.

“It’s just...I worry sometimes...I worry about leaving Catra alone sometimes...what if there’s…”

Glimmer opened her mouth to respond when a cool light drifted across the crowd from above to the stage.

“Adora….you might want to…” Glimmer pointed. Adora followed her gaze, jaw nearly dropping to the floor. Silhouetted against the limelight a lone figure stood before the mic. The outline of someone wearing a tight fitting black dress that fanned out toward the bottom. Catra’s tail swished nervously behind her, ears flicking. She stepped forward, the high slit of her dress revealing one leg as she moved. The light illuminating her freckled face, mismatched eyes gleaming.

“Oh my….” Adora took the last sip of her drink. Beside her bow gasped. Even Glimmer’s eyes stared wide with shock. The hub-bub of the crowd died instantly, everyone holding their breath. Even Emily and Entrapta, who were observing in the corner, fell silent.

Catra’s shaky inhale of breath sounded through the mic throughout the bar. Adora waited, stunned. Taking in her girlfriend, the deep V of her dress, the way she shifted her weight. Then finally, after a mini-eternity, Catra’s eyes slipped close and her voice drifted out:

“We're warriors, unstoppable. We feel the evil coming, and shadows all around.”

She sang low and haunting, each word a melodic whisper. Goosebumps rose on Adora’s skin.

“Danger surrounds us, but won't bring us down. We're on the edge of greatness, turning darkness to liiightt,”

Her voice undulated and moved like the waves, the crowd beginning to hum. She opened her eyes, gold and blue sparkling in the light. Catra’s gaze looked through the throngs of people finally meeting Adora’s. The blonde felt her knees shake, she passed her glass to Glimmer without looking away. Catra smiled,

“We're right beside you, ready to fight. We must be strong! And we must be brave! We gotta find every bit of strength that we have and never let it go!”

“Wooo!! Yaaaah!!!” People exclaimed, clapping. Catra’s smile widened, she took the mic from it’s stand, now walking across the stage, tall and proud and brimming with pride. Adora’s cheeks ached, beaming with a smile. She too clapped along.

“We're bound to this struggle, with mighty sword and flame, we'll never fail you, when you call our name.”

She turned, again meeting Adora’s radiant face across the audience. Their eyes met, though Adora could hardly see her through a fog of tears pressing against her eyes. Her heart expanded so fast and full she thought it would explode. Catra too grinned with confidence, revealing pointed fangs. Her eyes dazzled, shoulders lifting as she sang, not once looking away from Adora.

“Together we'll be heroes, joining forces as one. Strong as the steel we carry, we rise like a su...uu...uu...un!”

She hit the note perfectly, the whole bar erupting into ecstatic joy.

“Yeah Horde Scum!” Glimmer fist pumped at the air, jumping up and down. Off to the side of the stage, Perfuma pat Scorpia on the shoulder through her tears.

“That’s my wildcat!”

Catra sang through another round of the chorus, parading back and forth. People reached out from below towards her, laughing and whooping.

“Cause we're warriors, we are unstoppable,nothing's gonna get in our way. We're gonna win in the end….”

Catra sang through the last chorus, coming to stand gracefully before the microphone stand once more.

“We're gonna reach inside, still together and fight and never let it go. We must be strong…” She finished with a flourishing whisper. Looking at Adora from her poised position stage, she blinked, slowly, her own voice cracking with emotion.

“Hey Adora.”

Tears streamed down Adora’s face, her heart hammering in her chest. She could feel herself glowing, transforming, this time brought on by pride and admiration for Catra. Catra who only sang in secret, in dark places, until now. Catra who had always deserved every bit of attention and affection and praise but never got it, until now. Catra who was so guarded who never let herself betray emotion or vulnerability, until now.

There was a white flash, people gasped, and Adora didn’t need to look down at herself to know she’d become Shera.

Catra climbed down from the stage with Scorpia’s assistance and made her way Adora, people parting for her instantly, cheering and clapping.

“Catra! Y...you! You’re…”

Catra’s lips cut off the rest of her sentence, pressing in a full deep kiss, nearly melting against Adora, well, Shera’s chest. Adora put her arms around her girlfriend holding her close, one hand to the small of her back. She had to control herself in public after all, though it was hard to do with her girlfriend looking so...so ravishingly gorgeous, so happy and exuberant. A new round of tears spilled down her cheeks.

“I knew you could sing,” she breathed, breaking the kiss only to press her forehead against Catra’s which required her to lean down a little more in this form. “But not...l...like that.”

Catra laughed, holding Adora’s hand to her face and leaning into her touch. The ruckus of people seemingly disappearing. The only thing that mattered, the center of her universe was already right in front of her.

“I love you,” Catra whispered.

“I love you too, so much.” Adora pulled her in for another kiss, the cheers escalating around them.

Catra rolled her eyes only to be shoved by Glimmer’s arms around her waist.

“Catra, where was that voice when we were singing?! I need to up my game!”

“That...that was beautiful Catra!” Bow wiped his eyes with his yellow jacket. “Absolutely beautiful.”

“Alright, alright Sparkles,” she pulled away from Adora’s hold. “Next time we do Angel by Shaggy I’ll be sure to really sing it with pathos, yeah? And take it easy Arrow Boy your gonna get snot all over your jacket.”

Glimmer only rolled her eyes but gave Catra a kiss on the cheek.

“Well next rounds on me Wildcat!” Scorpia announced happily clapping Catra across the back gently. This time Catra didn’t stiffen or bristle at the touch but smirked. A testament to how far she’d come in such a short time. Adora could hardly contain her emotion.

“You may regret that Scorp.”

The night continued on, Catra changed back into more comfortable pants and dress-shirt. Rogeilo sang...well..grunt roared some prolonged ballad that no one but Lonnie understood. Mermista and Seahawk performed no less than seven shanties. A curtin was set on fire by the third one. Frosta entertained with a series of impressive ice sculptures and Double Trouble, dramatic as they were, impressions that left everyone’s sides sore from laughter. Scorpia closed out the evening, singing a rendition of “Beautiful,” by Christina Aguilera that had everyone, even Catra in tears by the end. Though Catra swore her eyes were she only irritated by the bright lights.

Adora put her arms around Catra from behind, still having advantage of being in her Shera form. Muscular arms holding her girlfriend close in the dark of the crowd while Scorpia, sang her last few notes. Catra swayed in tandem, tail going around her girlfriend’s leg, she leaned her back against Shera’s broad torso and hummed. Adora planted a kiss on the crown of Catra’s head. The mark of the Heart of Etheria glowing against her chest. In the mass of folks and the company of friends, lights glowing and Catra content in her arms, sniffled happily through tears of joy.

They had indeed won in the end.

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yonymii · 4 years ago

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the spotlight suits you

a/n: ok uhh if you don’t think you’re a good singer then plz pretend you are for this <3 thank u 💖 also this is incredibly self-indulgent so the reader’s personality and talents mirror my own a lot lmao im sorry

the song i imagined the reader singing was my favourite song ‘maybe it’s not our fault’ by yerin baek.

warnings: brief mentions of death (from natural causes),

pairing: Akaashi Keiji x gn!musician!reader

the moment the warm yellow lights of the stage hit your face, the erratic beating of your heart slowed and you were no longer dizzy. the stage felt like home to you, when everyone could see you and when you knew they were their to hear you, to hear your music. the prospect of people enjoying your songs filled your heart with joy, and your smile grew a little at the thought.

the mic was sat on top of two pieces of duct tape that had been stuck down in an ‘x’ shape, marking the center of the stage. your shoes clicked against the wood as you appraoched it, hands clenched into fists in anticipation.

because of the spotlights, the faces of your audience were barely recognisable. you assumed that a few of your old classmates would be there, though, because you knew they’d always frequented this place. before you moved to miyagi from tokyo, you’d attended fururodani high and had been good friends with akaashi keiji, the setter and vice-captain of the school’s volleyball team. you had been classmates since middle school and had similar interests, so it was only natural you were a good match for each other.

but after your grandmother who you’d been living with ever since your single mother died passed, you had to move to miyagi prefecture to live with your uncle and cousins. as much as you were fond of the small family, you felt as if you weren’t valued and often holed yourself up in your room due to grief over your grandma.

while you were in your room, you’d practiced piano over and over until your fingers ached from all the playing and there were blisters on the sides of your thumbs. you’d written notebooks full of songs and on the wall next to your single bed there was a corkboard completely covered over in sheet music and lyrics so you couldn’t see the brown material underneath it. as much as you’d always loved music, (you’d played piano since you were a small child), you never really wrote that many songs; the overwhelming emotions of losing someone important to you changed that in the blink of an eye.

when you left tokyo, you didn’t say anything to akaashi. you were second years in high school at the time, and the bus had actually stopped outside of your school on the way to miyagi. from where it had pulled over, you could see into the gym, where keiji was setting a volleyball for bokuto, the captain of the team. you’d nearly burst into tears at the sight of him. how could you possibly lose the two most important figures in your life in the span of a few days and not be sad?

of course you had his number and social media, but in a blind fit of rage after being scolded by your aunt for shouting at her baby and then bursting into tears from the overflowing sadness at your situation, you’d thrown your already failing phone at the wall and it had shattered; you’d been sent to your bedroom for the remainder of the night for causing a mess and upsetting the six-month-old child sat by you, and you’d just sat at the keyboard your grandmother had bought you that year as a birthday gift and played and played until the early hours of the morning, hot tears spilling over your waterline and making it hard to read the music. it was a beautiful instrument; the keys were weighted and touch-sensetive like a real piano and it was glossy black. there were few buttons thankfully, headphones for privacy, and the pedals underneath it were golden. it was one of your prized possesions. you didn’t let anyone touch it.

the moment your pre-recorded backing track started up, all eyes were on you; the notes and effects all melted together and your voice sounded like honey; it was sweet and the lyrics were surpisingly sad for the tone of the music but it was still lovely to listen to. akaashi was hooked before he even realised it was you.

but when he did he couldn’t take his eyes off of you; in terms of your appearance, you’d matured a lot. seeing you back in tokyo after 5 years was suprising, but he’d known about your love of music. he just didn’t know you’d gone far enough to get a gig at somewhere as popular as this place.

you, on the other hand, couldn’t see akaashi. the audience was audibly singing along by the second chorus, and when you finished the song, the applause was loud. you sang four songs, each one a little more enthusiastically performed than the others until it was your queue to leave the stage and go home to your small apartment in the center of tokyo to prepare for the gig you had at a bar the next night. you bowed, waving happily at the audience despite not being able to see them clearly, and departed, skipping down the wooden stairs and humming your opening song quietly since your voice needed to re-generate for your next performance.

someone tapped your shoulder and pointed to the door where a man stood facing the other way. to you, he looked familiar, but you couldn’t quite put finger on who he was exactly. the staff member smiled at you as you wandered over towards the man and went the other direction, ushering the next act onto the stage. the back door was open and there was a cool breeze flowing through the room, momentary twangs of guitars and basses breaking the silence until the faint music of the band currently performing started up.

“uhhh..” you said, tapping your foot nervously on the ground. he didn’t seem to hear you so yout tapped him lightly; the red, white and blue turtleneck he was wearing was underneath a plain suit jacket and he had on black dress pants and a brown belt. he was tall, around six feet, and his phone was held loosely in his hand. the only light near you was the full moon, the nearest unnatural source was a table lamp on a white desk in the corner of the room, though he was stood just outside the door, basking in the light of the cosmos which were unusually bright for a city.

“hello?” you spoke again, this time a little louder. he turned and looked at you, eyes sparkling. you didn’t know whether it was the reflection of light or whether there were stars in his eyes, but it was stunning nonetheless. you saw he was wearing glasses, but his face was unmistakeably keiji’s. you stuttered when he sent a tiny smile at you, reaching out slowly as if asking for permission to touch you (which you of course granted). his arms wrapped around your torso and he spoke quietly to you, breathing softly in your ear.

“you were amazing tonight, y/n. the spotlight really suits you.”

the sentence made you blush a little but you managed to get over your nerves and look him in the eyes. at this point you were both tearing up but you couldn’t let any tears fall in front of him. you tried to speak but your voice came out strangled and hoarse. he rubbed your arm, silently telling you to take your time.

“i’m sorry,” you spoke softly into the night, not looking at the man anymore. it hurt, looking at him, the sad guise on his face broke your heart and you could almost hear his shatter when a tear broke free of its prison and rolled down your cheek. you looked at your feet and gasped when he pulled you into him; his heartbeat was comforting and you breathing slowed.

“i understand. it hurt, but it hurt you too, right? you loved her a lot. it was too much for you, and sometimes people need breaks. even long ones, okay?”

you nodded, clinging to the back of his jacket. it was almost as if akaashi wasn’t really there; it felt so surreal, holding him like this. when he spoke again, you felt yourself hold him tighter, if it was possible.

“maybe we should start over, y/n. i want to get to know you again,”

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whumpster-fire · 4 years ago

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Whumptober Day 12: Broken Down

Here, have some Five Nights at Freddy’s whump, because I’ve wanted to write some about Mangle for years!

Content Warnings: Dehumanization of sentient robot whumpee. Does NOT contain child abduction or murder except as a brief reference despite what fandom it is, but does contain a child nearly being badly hurt or killed by accident due to negligent adults.

Kid’s Cove was in a state of chaos. It always was while the restaurant was open. This was the room where the children too young to sit still and watch the main show went. Today was busy, with around a dozen hyperactive toddlers and kindergarteners running around, shrieking, and hitting each other and Foxy with foam cutlasses.

A screech of electric guitar feedback ripped through the pizzeria, briefly drowning out even the screaming kids and browning out Foxy’s microphones. She glanced through the window at the show stage and glared at the blue rabbit animatronic on the left. Chica had her hands over her ears, and Freddy was shaking his head sadly. Foxy wasn’t angry at Bonnie – the feedback was part of the pre-scripted show, a little skit before the songs started. But somebody had obviously turned the speakers up way too high. One of the kids in her area was crying. Well, one in addition to the two that were crying already.

Foxy silently rolled her eyes and continued with her own performance, trying to ignore the gnawing pain in her left shin. The suit piece had a loose sensor cable that had been bothering her all week, and this morning it had finally come disconnected. She couldn’t feel it, but because tactile sensitivity was important to make sure the animatronics didn’t accidentally hurt a guest, her system registered the dead sensor wires as pain. But the maintenance techs had told her to ignore it when she said it was broken. It wasn’t critical, not worth shutting down the show for, not worth taking their time away from a faulty arcade cabinet. Her software didn’t let her disable the warnings entirely though, not during operating hours, so she had to keep overriding it.

This was supposed to be the audience participation part of the show, but the kids weren’t paying attention. Foxy looked pleadingly at the pimple-faced teenager currently sitting in the corner reading a magazine. He was supposed to be the backup plan. Fine. She’d just have to talk to herself then. Her hand puppet, “Perry the Parrot” volunteered, and she randomly selected a joke from her repertoire.

“Knock knock!”

“Who’s there?” she replied through the puppet’s voice box. Its jaw didn’t close. Foxy jiggled her arm up and down, making the secondary endo head’s eyes wobble.

“The cap’n!”

“The cap’n who?”

“Cap’n Hook? Why, he’s been promoted to Admiral!” Foxy laughed. Zero reaction. Fine.

She stepped down off the stage. Foxy came down and walked around more than the other three main animatronics. The two kids with the toy swords were getting more violent, and it seemed likely to become a fistfight soon. The hair pulling had already started. Their parents were nowhere in sight, and the teenager didn’t seem to have noticed.

“Hey! You two little buccaneers are gettin’ a little rough over there!” she called. “Be careful! You could put an eye out with those things, you know!”

“But Foxy! Isn’t that what they’re for?” said the hand puppet.

“Aye, but preferably somebody else’s.” The kids had now made peace with each other, but were ganging up on a little boy half their size. It had now officially gone too far. Foxy raised her voice and advanced on the children, feet clanking on the checkered tile. That finally got their attention. “Put those things away, young scallywags, or ye’ll be walkin’ the plank!”

One child dropped the sword. The other flung his at Foxy as hard as he could, and ran out of Kid’s Cove, screeching.

CHILD MISSING. CHILD MISSING. CHILD MISSING.

The parrot’s piercing shriek rang out across the restaurant. “MAN OVERBOARD! MAN OVERBOARD!” It was one of the code words to alert the human staff members to a situation the animatronic couldn’t handle. The teen looked up, bewildered. Foxy snatched the magazine out of his hand. “Bosun! There’s a crewmate missing! Search the place!”

That finally got the lazy swab moving. Foxy let the magazine fall. Now she was alone with nine unruly toddlers – no, ten, one behind her, climbing onto the stage. She made a halfhearted announcement of “more hands on deck in Kid’s Cove,” and tried to start calming them down.

Then, disaster struck. An adult finally showed up, an angry-looking man saying: “Hey! Darren, I’ve been calling – your brother’s going to open presents!”

He wasn’t in either of Foxy’s facial recognition databases. Not the one of dangerous adults, but not the one of faces she knew either.

“No! No! Donwanna! Daaaaaa-aaa-deeeeee stop!” A toddler wailed. The man was attempting to drag him, kicking and screaming, from the ball pit.

He wasn’t the adult who had dropped that child off in Kid’s Cove. An alarm went off in Foxy’s mind.

“Let go of the child now!” Foxy dropped the pirate voice and spun around, lunging to block the doorway and setting off the intercom alarm in the security office. She was programmed to alert security and the police. But after overhearing from one of the staff why the new animatronics were hooked up to a criminal database, Foxy had modified that programming. He wouldn’t be leaving the room with the child until either the boy’s parent or a staff member gave the all-clear.

But Foxy had forgotten the magazine. Her foot slid out from under her. Her balance algorithm reacted quickly, but it couldn’t compensate for basic physics. Fall unrecoverable. She twisted to avoid landing too close to a little girl, and put her arms out to try to absorb the impact, but the angle was wrong, and three hundred pounds of machinery slammed into the tile. Something popped in her right arm. Dozens of pain signals overloaded her processor.

Foxy tried to rise, but only managed to push herself a few inches off the floor before her limbs got too weak to hold up her weight. Something sprayed against the inside of her arm suit piece. Hydraulic pressure critical. The pump shut down, and she slumped to the floor in a growing puddle of shimmering oily fluid. On the stage, Freddy and Friends continued with their song like nothing happened. Foxy tried to reassure the stunned children that everything was okay, that Foxy had just had a little accident and would be ship-shape in no time, but all of them were crying, or screaming for their parents, or… two of them were laughing at her.

She lay there, helpless, as the security guard rushed into the room. The young man was missing his hat, and had obviously gotten there in a rush. But after exchanging a few words with the man with the screaming child, he let him go, apologizing profusely.

“It’s just a safety precaution, sir. We’re testing a new facial recognition system on the animatronics to ensure nobody unauthorized comes to pick up a child. We’re still working out the kinks so there’s a lot of false positives -” The guard said, giving Foxy a disdainful look. “But it’s company policy to send someone to investigate if an animatronic sends an alert, no matter what! The safety of your children is our highest priority here at Freddy Fazbear’s Pizza!”

“Oh yeah? Safety, huh?” The man, who seemed to be the child’s father, wasn’t impressed. “Is that why you left them alone with that deathtrap? When I came in here there wasn’t a single supervising adult, and your little technical glitch almost crushed that poor little girl!”

“I – I’m sorry to hear that sir!” The security guard gulped. “We’ll be looking into that –“

“Look into getting a manager in here! I want a refund!”

For a brief moment, Kid’s Cove was bustling with adult activity – the employee who’d run off to find the runaway kid, the manager, the assistant manager, and numerous parents. Foxy kept trying to explain what had happened, but nobody even seemed to hear her, and she could hear that her voicebox was working properly this time. Her hands and feet, and her tail and all the motors in her face still worked. She could see out of one eye, but the other only had a view of the inside of her own eyeball. The plastic cover had gotten knocked out of place and the pupil wasn’t aligned with the camera underneath anymore. Her radio still worked, too, and she could hear the staff’s walkie-talkie calls.

“Can we get maintenance to the show floor please, we’ve got an animatronic down.”

“Which one?”

“Take a wild guess.”

The maintenance techs were there quickly, nearly bumping into the kids as they were shooed out of Kid’s Cove, but they weren’t in an enthusiastic mood. And it got worse when one of them slid in the pool of hydraulic fluid and nearly joined Foxy in a broken heap on the floor.

“Jesus fu – oh my god I almost fucking ate it!”

“Whoa! Dude, you okay?”

“Watch your language please, this is a family establishment!” Foxy’s response was automatic. The technician almost jumped out of his shoes.

“Jesus, it’s still on?” He backed carefully away from the spill and shook his head derisively, picking up his walkie-talkie. “Whatever.” He keyed the mic. “Yo, Jeff, can we get a wet floor sign over in Kid’s Cove? I almost cracked my damn head open.”

“No kidding, I thought I was about to be calling an ambulance.” The other tech keyed his mic as well. “Mop and bucket too please.”

“I thought you were too. Man, I’d heard horror stories about working here but, like, isn’t it supposed to be the kids pissing on the floor?”

The other technician laughed. “You’d think. So what’s your bet, think the leak caused the fall or the fall caused the leak?”

“I dunno, dude.” The first tech scowled and kicked at Foxy. “Piece of fuckin’ junk.” He knelt down and examined her arm, allowing her to read his nametag. ‘Greg.’ Something had splashed her good eye, and her vision was too blurry to recognize his face.

“Watch your language please, this is a family -”

“Shut the fuck up!” Greg snapped. Foxy obeyed. She was a little scared of Greg. He was always rough and careless with the animatronics, and she wasn’t sure if he was joking the times he’d threatened to beat her with a wrench if anything else went wrong. “Dumbass robot.” He tugged on her arm. “Jesus, looks like whatever blew nearly tore the suit off.”

“Prob’ly a fitting.” Paul, the older technician, leaned against the wall. “Good thing the suit was there or there’d be somebody in the hospital. I saw a line blow on a backhoe once, poor bastard working on it didn’t even know he was hurt at first but he said they had to peel his whole arm like a banana and scrub the oil off his bones. When he rolled up his sleeve he looked like Frankenstein.”

“Yeesh...” Greg said with a grimace. “That’s a much bigger machine though, isn’t it?”

“Bigger yeah, but they don’t run as high a pressure. These things run around ten thousand – no, sorry, the old ones were ten thousand psi, I think the new ones took it down to six or seven thousand? But it’s still crazy, not even aircraft go that high, and I’m not sure they aren’t using five-k-rated hoses and fittings because the fuckin’ bean counters hear the parts are tested higher and don’t know what a factor of safety means.”

“Wouldn’t surprise me,” said Greg. “Oh, thank God, that stupid puppet got smashed. If I hear that damn thing’s squeaky voice one more time -”

Foxy wanted to cry. She wasn’t sure how she’d learned that feeling, it must have been from watching how the kids reacted when they fell and hurt themselves, or even from the songs Freddy and Bonnie and Chica sang to teach the kids about feelings. But the damaged sensors in the hand puppet and the unresponsive wrist hurt, and it hurt looking at its smashed-in shape and its lower jaw just hanging on by a wire like Old Chica’s and one of its eyes lying on the floor, and it hurt that they hated the puppet, and hated her, so much. It was her favorite of the interchangeable attachments that could go on her left arm – the puppet, a normal hand, or a hook – because it had real, working eyes that helped her see a wider view of her surroundings when navigating the restaurant floor. At least, it would if they bothered plugging them in when they attached it.

“Don’t hold your breath,” Paul complained. “I’m with ya, man… these redesigns are… they’re just total pieces of crap. The originals had their issues, but these guys are just falling apart. This is what happens when you cheap out, you end up paying double on spare parts and downtime because they always. Fuckin. Break.”

“Especially Foxy,” said Greg. “Seriously, there’s five damn animatronics here, but I swear ninety percent of the breakdowns are either Foxy or Balloon Bitch if you don’t count Daffy’s beak falling off!” The staff had nicknamed most of the animatronics. Freddy was ‘Fatbear’ after his portly figure compared to the original Freddy. Bonnie was ‘Queen,’ apparently after some other band with a lead singer named Freddy. Chica was ‘Daffy’ after a cartoon character whose beak also apparently kept coming off. Balloon Boy was ‘Balloon Bitch,’ which Foxy didn’t understand other than it tripping her profanity filters. The Prize Puppet didn’t have one yet, and neither did Foxy, but at this rate it would probably be ‘Piece of Junk.’

Paul chuckled. “They’re the ones that spend the most time offstage, but they’re all junk. Sheet metal, molded plastic for the suit structure instead of fiberglass, they put the suit shell on the outside so now it breaks way easier… they didn’t even wanna bother with cleaning the fake fur so now you’ve got this… ridiculous shiny plastic, like they’re overgrown action figures. Plus of course there’s the whole political correctness fiasco – apparently the higher ups said the main cast needed to have an even gender ratio, so they gave Foxy the ol’ snip-snip. And then just to make sure everyone could tell, they paint Foxy pink and put Chica in a bikini. Like that isn’t stereotypical at all, ya know?”

“I know, right? The new foxy design sucks, too. I couldn’t tell if it was supposed to be a pirate or a clown at first, it’s just… it looks so stupid!”

“Yeah… I can’t believe they got rid of the eyepatch. It was a pain in the ass since the linkages for that and the eyelid were so close together, but like, everything else on these damn things is a nightmare to maintain, so… ah, whatever. Doubt these’ll be around that long anyway. At this rate I’ll be you twenty bucks Foxy’ll be in the great dumpster in the sky by next year.”

Greg looked skeptical. “Nah… nah… they haven’t even bothered scrapping the old ones even though half the parts aren’t even compatible.”

“Fuck that, they didn’t even turn them off. You know they still wander around the place every night? Yeah… guess you’re right, they’ll probably just throw her in the parts room, just completely turn it into an obstacle course of broken down tripping hazards.”

Foxy shuddered in fear, imagining being left there, alone, all the time. Being left in that decrepit, broken state. The old animatronics were still there, and they were still functioning, but nobody bothered with fixing them. They had broken jaws, missing suit pieces, even limbs and faces torn off. They had to be in constant pain, but Foxy had never heard any of them speak. Maybe their voiceboxes were broken, and they couldn’t even tell anyone it hurt. Not that they’d ever listen.

Greg looked at his watch. “Speaking of broken down tripping hazards, where’s the janitor? I’m not moving this thing until the floor’s mopped, I don’t want a broken neck.”

“Hell if I know. Screw it, just drag it by the legs and be careful. I just wanna get it in the back and then I’m going for a smoke. This is gonna be a total pain in the neck to fix...”

Foxy closed her eyes and pretended to be ‘asleep’ as the humans dragged her out of Kid’s Cove and onto the dolly. The movement set off vibration alarms, more sharp, tingling pain. She wanted to tell them to be careful, but there was no point. They didn’t care. Not the same way people cared when other people, especially the children, were hurt. Foxy was almost jealous of it. No, she was jealous. No carting her into the backroom, swearing and complaining about how much time and money she wasted, no shutting her down and taking her apart and putting her back together sloppily, then ignoring her when she said it still hurt and getting angry at her when something broke again. No accidentally punching a hole in her suit when a drillbit slipped. She didn’t think a band-aid or a sticker would actually do anything to fix the hydraulic leak, but they sometimes put them on kids who weren’t actually bleeding, and it still seemed to make them feel better. And the way the adults talked to them, the way they were… worried about them, and cared that they were hurt because they were hurt… she just wished they would treat her like that. Just once.

#whumptober2020 #no.12 #broken down #Five Nights At Freddy's Fandom #fic #dehumanization tw #robot whump #whump #my writing #fnaf #mangle #OSHA Violations

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andlovedaresyou · 4 years ago

Text

Ruining Your Heartline (Part III)

(AO3 Link: Here)

Adam is in love, and he's a damn idiot.

It all had to come to a head on Brian's birthday.

Brian didn't want to draw much attention to it. He'd smile shyly as Roger hosted a little party on the jet and delivered a heartwarming speech (Adam certainly doesn't catch the subtle wink that Roger sends to Brian when he finished and sat down.)

"Oh, don't party too much for my sake!" Brian shakes his head at all the streamers and hats. "The real party is tonight's show!"

Adam decides to oblige with his wishes by just greeting him and giving him a hug. The poor man would probably disappear into the floor if Adam gave him a wrapped gift then and there. Although, he does have a little something up his sleeve, and he needs thousands of people to lend a helping hand.

Or, rather, a helping voice.

Whenever the crew readies the stage for Brian's acoustic Love of My Life number, Adam usually returns his mic to its stand and walks to the backstage with the rest of the band. Tonight, he holds it close and faces the endless crowd.

"We have a very special night, tonight, because…" He grins as the cheers grow louder. "The great Brian May is having a birthday tonight!"

He turns and faces Brian, who has his hands on his hips as he looks around in disbelief. "And everybody should sing Happy Birthday to him."

The entire arena erupts into a massive rendition of Happy Birthday, singing in unison for the man crossing his arms and trying to fight a smile. Adam waves his hands as he conducts the audience, and he can't help but sneak a glance at the joy in Brian's eyes. When it's all over, Brian grins at him and wags his finger.

As Adam laughs and points back, he comes to a bit of a self-compromise. He doesn't know if or when this pain in his chest will subside whenever he sees them together, doesn't know if it should go away. But, as long as he can keep bringing that smile to Brian's face, as long as he can make Roger laugh with a little joke or a little shimmy while onstage, that's all he needs.

When they finish the show and step into the dressing room, a bit exhausted, sweaty, pumped with adrenaline, Adam gets the air knocked out of his lungs by the biggest hug he has ever received in his life.

"Adam Lambert." Brian laughs as he pulls away, keeping his hands on Adam's shoulders. "You sneaky bastard! How long have you been planning that?"

"It wasn't all me." Adam's gaze falls to the side. "The fans would've sang to you anyway."

"Aw, don't act so modest!" Brian can't stop beaming. "Adam, you were still the one who started it. This is the best birthday gift I've ever had."

"Looks like I have competition." Roger approaches them, patting Adam on the back. "I'll have to give him a better gift next year, then."

Adam smirks. "You know, a sparkly pair of shoes caught my eye, and I think it would look good on him."

A raised brow. "You're on."

"Boys, please." Brian raises his palms placatingly. "I love both of your gifts equally. Including the future ones, whatever they may be."

Adam hopes they don't see the red on his face after that sentence. He clears his throat. "Any plans for tonight?"

"We do, actually." Brian nods. "It's not a big party. Rog and I just want to celebrate by ourselves and relax. You're free to join, if you'd like."

"I am free tonight." Adam grins. "I'll be there."

Their smiles grow. Roger waves goodbye with a "See you later" before they turn around and leave.

After a shower, Adam decides on wearing a simple shirt and pants. They certainly aren't doing any dancing tonight. It's a private celebration with just the three of them. Nothing big is going to happen. But before he leaves, he opens the mini fridge and grabs a bottle.

Roger beams when he answers the door. "Now, we can really make this a party!"

"I never made it past two last time." He reminds him with a grin.

"We'll do it again. I'm not in the mood for wine."

He hands the bottle to Roger and sits on their couch, next to Brian.

"Glad you could join us." He squeezes Adam's shoulder. "Roger's been dying for you to get here."

"That's because Adam is a worthy tequila drinking partner." Roger says. He sets down a filled shot glass for Adam and a wine glass for Brian, then he takes the empty spot on Brian's left. "No offense, love."

"None taken." Brian leans over and kisses his cheek.

It's their first outright display of affection that Adam has seen up close. Here, they can let their guard down. Of course, the wine and the occasion are enough to make Brian even more affectionate. But this is their little bubble, and Adam feels touched that they have let him in.

They've already ordered in food enough for the three of them. And once the plates have been passed around, they chat. About the show, mentioning Adam's surprise gift yet again. It's one of the countless conversations they easily fall into, whether it is while they're flying over the continent or doing a soundcheck.

Once their dinner is more-or-less finished, Roger lifts his glass. "Now, I'd like to give another speech. The uncensored version, if you will, of what I said on the jet-" He points at Adam. "Not uncensored for those kind of reasons. Don't worry."

"Oh, dear lord." Brian lifts his fingers to his temple.

Adam just laughs and mirrors Roger.

Roger then turns to Brian. "So, Brian, you've been my best friend and my partner for forty years now. Ever since we were just boys who just wanted to make music, you've stood by me, through thick and thin. And now, as we start a new chapter, and we get to continue living the dream thanks to some wonderful circumstances-" He grins at Adam. "I just want you to know that I'm grateful to have you in my life. You've challenged me, changed me for the better, and I can never thank you and love you enough. Happy birthday, Brimi."

Adam cheers, and he leans over to connect their glasses and take the first drink.

"Oh, Rog." Brian sniffs. "Come here."

He pulls Roger to his chest, squeezing tight. Roger closes his eyes and leans into him with a soft smile.

"Think I should give the special circumstances my thanks as well." Brian turns to Adam with the same watery smile.

Adam eagerly accepts his embrace and his soft words. "I really wouldn't be here, making music again, if it weren't for you. One of the greatest gifts we've ever had."

Adam leans into his arms. He catches Roger's proud gaze and returns his smile.

"Alright, well-" Brian releases him and lets out an almost embarrassed chuckle. "Enough of that. You two have been waiting for a party." He takes his wine glass again.

"And a party we shall have." Roger raises the tequila bottle high in the air, but his voice is still gentle, as if reassuring Brian that he hasn't ruined the atmosphere. Adam does the same by pouring Brian's wine glass for him despite his protests of "You don't have to just because it's my birthday!"

He passes his shot glass to Roger for a refill. But before Roger slides it back, he says in a challenging tone "Why don't we up the ante and play a bit of a game, hm? I'm not letting you get to three that easily."

Brian chuckles as he sips from his wine, leaning into the back of the couch to watch them in amusement.

"Oh, Bri, you're a part of this, too." Roger points at him. "We'll keep taking shots, and whoever's the first to give up will have to answer a question from our birthday boy."

Adam smirks. "Bring it."

The second shot.

That familiar buzz is starting to settle in. He giggles as Roger rapidly blinks his eyes. "Ooh, that looks like it was a lot."

"But not enough." The drummer points a finger. "Don't try to taunt me into submission, Lambert. It won't work."

Adam can feel the warmth of victory as he finally, finally takes his coveted third shot. Well, he hasn't won the game at hand, but personal victories are still worth celebrating.

"Oh, don't get too confident." Roger shakes his head, noticing his grin. "Brian, you better have a good question lined up!"

"I'm still thinking of one!"

They reach for the bottle at the same time, fingers brushing at the glass neck. Adam lets the nerves rush through him like adrenaline, giving him a bit of an edge as he turns to Roger with a daring smile.

Roger narrows his eyes for a moment, as if they're locked in some sort of battle of wills. Someone will have to back down.

A beat of silence. Then Roger's hand slowly slips away from the bottle.

"All yours." He crosses his arms.

"Really?" Adam blinks in surprise.

"Really. I think I've had enough for tonight. I'll answer Brian's question."

The birthday boy laughs. "Can't take it back, Rog."

"I know." Roger's eyes never leave Adam's. "You'll get your answer."

Adam's smile softens. He pulls his hand back, returns it to his lap. "Make that two answers."

It’s Roger’s turn to look surprised.

"Alright." Brian grins, giving his glass a little swirl. "How about, um- Tell me a crush, past or present?"

"A crush?" Roger repeats incredulously. "Well, you already know who mine is!"

"Maybe I just want to hear it again, darling." Brian lets out a bit of a drunken giggle, slinging an arm around Roger's shoulders. "Besides, I don't know who Adam's is."

Are. Adam silently corrects him.

"Fine." Roger struggles to hide his smile. "It's you. I have a stupid crush on you, Brian. Surprised?"

"Me?" Brian points a finger to his chest. "I'm shocked. Very shocked, indeed."

Roger leans forward. "Adam, get me out of this. Who's yours?"

"It's you two."

He doesn't realize that those three words have slipped out of his mouth until it's too late.

The smile drops from Brian's lips, his head slowly turning to face Adam. And Roger… Roger looks stunned. Confused, even. Considering they bared their souls out to each other a few nights ago.

His own three words echo in his head, repeating over and over. You've done it. Keep it to yourself, that's all you had to do.

"What did you say, Adam?" Brian's voice is almost quiet, on the edge of disbelief.

"I said-" He swallows. "I said, it's you two."

The second time he says it out loud, and the resounding silence is equally deafening.

"Then who were you talking about on that night?" Roger's voice is steady, unreadable.

"It's Brian, then I realized I liked you, too." He closes his eyes.

Someone stands up. Footsteps encircle the table, the empty cushion on his right dips. Then, there's warmth on his left hand, warmth on his cheek.

"Adam, look at me." Warmth in Roger's voice.

He opens his eyes. The only other time he's been so close to Roger, so close that he can truly see the vibrant blue of his eyes, was when they held each other on the rooftop.

"You haven't ruined everything."

There's warmth on Adam's lips, too.

He tastes the slight hint of tequila, feels the beard brushing against his skin, the thumb stroking his jaw- He's so overwhelmed that he almost forgets how to kiss someone. But he finally remembers how to move, and his free hand finds the small of Roger's back and pulls him closer. The warmth on his other hand-Brian's- squeezes gently.

Roger pulls away after a few more seconds, swiping a thumb under Adam's eye. He didn't even realize he shed a tear earlier during his confession.

"We feel the same way." Roger says gently. "We like you, too, Adam."

Adam blinks once, twice. This isn't a dream born from a drunken haze. This is real.

"For how long?" He manages to ask.

Brian shifts closer to him, bringing their intertwined hands to his lap. "We realized how much we wanted you since, um, the beginning of this tour."

"Oh, god." Adam lets out a startled laugh. "I started to realize it at the same time. I was so scared that I couldn't say something."

"Same here." Brian smiles. "We didn't want to make you feel uncomfortable, so we thought it was best not to tell you."

"And I thought you fell in love with someone else." Roger adds. "I respected that, no matter what I felt, and Brian would say the same thing." He sighs. "But all of this time thinking we never felt the same way clearly hurt you. I'm sorry. If I had just said something-"

"Hey." Adam pulls him closer, letting Roger's head rest on his shoulder. "You helped me that night, Roger. You really did. After that, I could breathe easier, I felt better."

Roger raises his head, and Adam takes the opportunity to press a quick kiss to his lips. "Thank you."

Roger chuckles softly. "There's one person you still haven't kissed yet."

Adam lets out a startled "Oh!" and turns around to face a grinning Brian. "Sorry, I kept you waiting."

"Not at all." Brian shakes his head. His hand settles on Adam's lap. "May I?"

Adam laughs and surges upward to kiss him. His fingers brush against Brian's soft curls as a large, warm hand squeezes his thigh. Brian's lips curve into a smile. As he starts to pull back, Brian steals another kiss, making him giggle.

"What?" He jokingly furrows his brows. "Roger got to kiss you twice. I had to make it even."

Adam slides his hand down to Brian's chest. "And you'll get so many more chances."

Getting to make Brian blush for the first time is an exhilarating feeling.

"So, we're doing this?" Roger asks, running a thumb over his hand. There's a small hint of apprehension in his eyes.

"Yeah." Adam smiles at him. "I want to be with the two of you. I want to make this work."

Roger relaxes. He buries his nose into the side of Adam's neck, and Adam wraps an arm around his shoulders.

"Thank you, Adam." Brian's soft voice draws his attention. He runs his fingers through dark hair. "For everything. You've made our lives better, made us feel young again. And, this is going to sound a bit strange, but, um-" He scratches at the back of his neck. "Thank you for falling in love with us."

Adam leans into his touch.

"I'll come up with a better gift next year." Roger mumbles.

They all laugh together, in perfect harmony.

As they cushion him between them, Adam can't help but close his eyes and sigh.

Adam is in love, and he finally feels safe and warm in its embrace.

#maylorbert #andlovedaresyou writes #ruining your heartline

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vegetacide · 5 years ago

Text

Whump●tober - Tear-stained

Veg-notables: so this happened on my lunch break yesterday while I was hiding in my car listening to music Passed out last night before I could finish it.. So.. hmm.. Well here we are. I am lacking caffeine today and doing a great impression of a sleep deprived V so please excuse my ramblings

Additionally, as I now seem to be doing these out of order.. I am taking the numbering out of the headers..

@gumnut-logic - ::duck tapes to chair, mummifies in toilet paper...inspects works::: “Perfect! Zom-nut”

Obligatory whumptober stuff: @whumptober2019 @la-vie-en-whump

Blanket warning: A continuation of breaking and tearing apart the TaG family. Angst-be-gone chocolate might be needed after this one…

Characters: Scott, Kayo and Gordon

Whumptober - TaG’verse

Previous part can be found HERE

14 .Tear-stained

Enjoy…

oOo

Stepping out of the waiting room, Kayo made her way down the hall on hurried, unsteady feet. Darting around shocked nurses and stumbling into hospital orderlies.

She had no sense of where she was going. All she knew was that she just needed out.

Out of the stark white, sterile, overly sanitized maze of cinder block walls and large, faux wood paneled swinging doors with their little, mesh inlaid windows.

Out of the softly spoken, overly compassionate voice filled spaces with their faint, rhythmic beep, beep, beep and the whooosh of the ventilators.

Away from the sad, knowing eyes of her friends and family.

And away from the knowledge that she just might not make it out the other side of this ordeal. If the heart of the man she cared for more than life itself couldn't make it one more hour, one more day, one more year, she was going to be reduced to a shell of herself and the aftermath of which she didn't even want to fathom.

A lifetime of knowing he wouldn't be there.

Her chest tightened, her vision blurred and lungs starved for breathe. She nearly cried out at the first glimpse of the harsh red light at the end of the corridor that declared her escape with blaring four inch letters.

Her exit out. Her egress. Her chance at being away from it even if just for a few short, desperate minutes.

Legs numb, heart pounding, tears threatening she punched through the heavy steel door and flew down the stairs. Racing from the hurt, the agony of having to sit stationary in that room surrounded by the ones that would live. Could live and move on when she could not.

Stuck in the fading rhythm of that beep, beep, beep….

Pushing through the last barricade she burst out into the gloriously bright sunlight. The breeze hot, dry, blistering, the air thick with the song of cicadas and the dappled sun slanting through the lush, green foliage.

Such a contrast to the inside. Such an insult to her senses after too long of being deprived.

God, she needed him.

If he didn't make it, if the IDB* wasn't successful with their synthesizing process, she would fade away right along with him.

Panic gripped her as the lonely years stretched out ahead of her into the unknown distance and she took off.

She needed more distance, more air to clear her head of the churning chaos of her mourning.

God, he wasn't gone yet. Why was she thinking like this?

She'd lost more than her fair share in life.. in the short span of it she had lived. Her mother, her home, her father to a quest that possibly had no end. An uncle that was lost to a darkness that no one understood.

Why couldn't she just have this one thing for herself. Why did everything have to be such a struggle? Why did he have to converse with death and threaten to leave her?

She snorted derisively at herself, self deprecation humming through her veins as she threw herself around a bricked corner and right into the churning angry maw of a viper’s nest.

Her face stained with tears, flinched and drew back at the harsh flashes of light and the buzzing of holo-drones.

Her name was being shouted, mics and people clawing to get close, to get the first comment out of one of the fabled Tracy clan.

"Miss Kyrano, are the rumours true..?" From one direction.

"Can you confirm the identity of the victim in this heinous attack on your family?" Came from another.

"What is his status? Will there be a state funeral?"

"Our audience has a right to know, is this it for International Rescue?"

Too much, too soon. She couldn’t cope with this right now.

Her eyes darted about, not seeing a clear path out of the horde of swarming reporters. All yelling for her, demanding that they had a right to the private, intimate details of a family in the maelstrom of suffering.

Eyes clenched shut, teeth grinding, ears ringing with the continual barrage of question after question. Staggering at the cusp of completely losing it, of making a mockery of the family she was tied to, the crowd suddenly stilled. The passivity so surreal, so sudden that she nearly jumped out of her skin when a pair of strong hands wrapped around her shoulders.

The tall, commanding force of nature, stood strong and imposing beside her. His roguish good looks, only slightly hampered by the drawn lines of fatigue that lines his mouth and around his eyes with increasing clarity.

Dressed casually in slacks and an oxford top he still managed to exuded the air of assertive confidence that he was well known for and she tried to draw her own strength from that. Just like he knew she would.

Looking down at her before addressing the mass of hounding newsagents, his blue gaze conveyed more words than one would think possible in such a short instance. They were a united front and no one would have to face this alone.

Giving her a quick squeeze, he addressed the media. “We thank you all for your continued patience and understanding but our family respectfully declines to comment at this time. Should you have any questions, please direct them to our media liaison at Tracy Industries.”

Some of the wiser newsies knew when an official ‘piss off’ had been issued and backed off. The more tenacious of the vulturous bunch kept up the volley of inquiries but Scott; ever familiar with the process, handled it like a pro.

Kayo was turned and guided through the throng as a TI security detail closed in around them, ushering them in the front doors of the facility and into the relative quiet of the busy hospital lobby.

It was then that her legs gave out and she faltered.

Scott’s arms held her up, his strength was her support and she latched on to it as she was steered to a discreet corner. Away from the prying eyes of the general public and out of camera distance from the gathering out front, she finally let go.

His voice was soft in her ear, comforting and reassuring as her silent tears marked the fine cotton of his shirt. “It will be okay.” He kept repeating like a mantra. The shaky edge to his voice making it seem like he was also trying to convince himself. And perhaps he was.

“Where were you?” Her voice caught, her thin frame quacking with raw emotion. “We needed you.”

“I’m sorry… I.. I’m so so sorry..” His hand rubbed circles over her back, body swayed in an attempt to sooth.

For several minutes no more words were spoken, just the gentle rocking and the quietude of shared grief for their company.

Eventually Kayo's silent tears stalled out, her laboured breathing calmed and everything seemed to still. A pause button on the universe.

The voices and sounds faded off to nothing, and she was just herself once again.

"You alright now?" A quiet question as he pulled back to look at her.

She gave a slow nod, wiped a hand across her cheeks, hiding her face away from him as she rallied her control.

One long, steady inhalation, and she stepped back. Composed as much as she could be with a tear reddened face, and swollen eyes.

"I will be". She announced and straightened her shoulders. Returned was the security specialist, stony, resilient and deadly.

"Good."

“Did you find what you were after?” There was an edge of anger in her tone that she couldn’t quite contain. Why had Virgil’s closest brother had taken off? Why he had been gone so long? She could dig for the answer but she wasn’t sure she really wanted to know.

“I’m not sure yet.” Was his answer and the look in Scott’s eyes sent a chill down her spine.

Somethings she knew, were better left where they were.

Hurried feet drew their attention and they moved as one to see Gordon jogging towards them.

"Thank fuck, I finally found you." The aquanaut wheezed, his whiskey eyes settling on her blotchy face. He knew better than to comment.

His gaze flicked over to Scott and there was a moment where something passed between them. Some unvoiced question that had Scott giving a brief nod. Gordon seemed satisfied with that and a brotherly greeting was exchanged, a quick hug, slap of open palms on each others backs.

They were all but dragged towards the bank of elevators that would lead them back up to the intensive care unit.

“Gordon, what’s going on? Did something happen?” Panic crept into Kayo’s voice.

“Not in the way you’re thinking.” Gordon grinned and pushed them all into the open doors of the elevator car.

The suspense was enough to drive her up the wall. “Well, spill Squid.”

“Doctors and those Infectious Disease guys say they have some cautiously optimistic news.” He supplied, “Said they managed to synthesize enough modified antibodies that they can start treating Virgil.”

There was a stunned silence in the car.

Gordon turned to them, his smile growing in width along with his hope. “As long as Virg can hold out, they’re hopeful they can help him fight the meningitis infection. They think they can cure him.”

oOo

IDB - Infectious Disease Board

Next post can be found HERE

The Master List of prompts can be found HERE

#whumptober2019 #whumptober #thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds 2015 #thunderbirds fanfiction #thunderbirds fanfic #no.14 #tear-stained #Kayo Kyrano #Scott Tracy #Gordon Tracy #Virgil Tracy #virgil/kayo #the prompt made me do it

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svartalfhild · 5 years ago

Note

"Someone's greatest fear" for Rowan and/or Rufus

Rowan never expected to be valedictorian at Trystenhollow University, but here she was, getting ready to deliver her speech at graduation to a massive audience. She’d be lying if she said she wasn’t nervous. It was hard to keep her hands steady as they held tightly to her note cards. This was going to be her moment. No one could doubt her now. No one could say that she had never accomplished anything. She would be heard.

She felt her heart leap into her throat as the president of the university introduced her and signaled for her to come to the podium. She started to move, but then a woman ran up and whispered in the president’s ear.

“I’m sorry, there’s been a mistake. This year’s valedictorian is Jason Campbell. Please welcome him as he shares a few words of wisdom,” the president stated. Before Rowan could react, a horribly familiar figure brushed past her and headed to the podium, a smug grin on his lips. He looked at Rowan, who stood stunned, unable to think. The glint of sick glee in his eyes burned a gaping emptiness into her heart.

“He doesn’t even go here!” Rowan blurted out angrily. “At least, I didn’t think…” she went on, feeling less sure of herself with each word. This couldn’t be right. How could this be happening? Wouldn’t they have told her much sooner if there had been a mistake? How did Jason of all people develop the work ethic to surpass her?

“Ms. Axel, please return to your seat,” someone told her firmly, her mind didn’t register who.

“No. No, you don’t get to do this. You don’t get to fuck me again,” Rowan responded loudly before rushing up and snatching the microphone off the podium to speak into it. Several faculty members tried to stop her, but she bobbed and wove to avoid their grasp. “Jason Campbell is a lying bastard. I don’t know who he fucked to make this happen, but he has never had a single word of wisdom to share in his life. He’s hurt a dozen girls by now and screw every. single. person. who let him get away with it and is still letting him get away with it. You’re all complicit in his crimes. Fuck the patriarchy and fuck this university. I’m out.”

With that, she jumped off the stage and spiked the mic on the ground, breaking it instantly. Security was coming for her now and she wasted no more time in booking it out of there, throwing off her cap and robe as she went. Other students jeered and laughed at her flight. She didn’t stop running until she was at the abandoned train station, where she collapsed at the edge of the platform, letting her legs hang off the side. Usually, this was where she would start crying, but no tears came. She only felt that awful void inside. Jason had managed to ruin her life again. Would it ever end, this terrible cycle of destruction? Would he always dog her footsteps? Poison every well from which she attempted to drink?

Rowan didn’t know how long she sat there, contemplating her fate. It grew dark and bitter cold. Leaves on the wind scraped across her, like Mother Nature herself was expressing her disgust.

Eventually, she heard footsteps approaching at a purposeful pace. She leapt up and drew her pocket knife, but lowered it when she saw that it was Rufus approaching.

“Oh, it’s you,” she muttered with a sigh of relief. As he grew closer, she learned her mistake in that relief, because he was wearing a scowl she’d never seen on him before.

“What were you thinking, Rowan?” he asked harshly. “That was- I knew you could be impetuous, but that was just…a step further than I thought you would ever go.”

“Wh-What…what do you mean?” Rowan took a step back, shocked at being spoken to like this by Rufus of all people. She’d never known him to be so passionately accusatory. Had she really gone too far? No. No, she’d had a right to say everything she’d said. Maybe they were misunderstanding each other.

“You’re out of line, Rowan. Just because someone hurt you doesn’t mean you have the right to throw a temper tantrum at graduation and destroy sound equipment.”

“That’s not what that was! I was standing up for myself and for every person who’s been wronged like me. You know better than practically anyone in this town the value of protest and disruption.”

“Don’t you dare compare your little stunt with a proper protest. God, I was so stupid, thinking you were this unflappable iron lady, but your just a petulant child who flies off the handle the moment someone provokes you.”

“No, no, that’s not…I didn’t mean… why are you…?” Rowan struggled to respond. She’d never felt so small, never questioned herself so thoroughly as she did now.

“I thought you were better than this, but I was wrong. You’re volatile, and I want you to stay away from me.” With that, Rufus turned on his heel and disappeared into the shadows.

- - -

Rowan awoke in a cold sweat, her breath ragged with panic. It had just been a nightmare, but it had felt so terribly real. Shakily, she slipped out of her bed and grabbed her leather jacket off the back of her desk chair. She ungracefully shrugged it on as she shuffled out of her room and through the house to the back door.

The biting chill of the night air hit her as she came outside, but it didn’t pierce her bones the way it had in her dream. She went to sit on the top step of the back porch and took a deep breath.

“It’s not real,” she whispered to herself. “Nothing like that would ever happen.” Even so, she still felt an awful ache in her chest. That sort of thing was hard to shake when your worst fears had been thrust at you in your sleep.

Rowan’s pocket buzzed. She’d forgotten that she’d left her phone in there earlier in her haste to get to bed. She took it out and opened a text from Tyra.

“You’re missing a great party,” the text read with an attached picture of her posing with Olivia and Shen, who looked kinda lit, judging from how enthusiastically they were holding up their solo cups.

“I’m sure the party isn’t missing me,” Rowan texted back before setting aside her phone. She looked up at the thin sliver of crescent moon hanging in the sky and sighed heavily. Her nightmares may not be real, but that didn’t mean her reality wasn’t a mess.

Her phone buzzed again.

“Rufus was asking if you were here.”

“Yeah obviously so he could avoid me,” Rowan replied before setting aside her phone, face down this time. She zipped up her jacket and hugged herself for warmth, but to little effect. It seemed that comfort wasn’t something she was going to find tonight.

Several minutes passed in contemplative silence before Rowan’s phone buzzed again. She waited a few more moments after that before she picked it up to read Tyra’s next message.

“I’m sorry about what happened. I wanted to bring y’all together not push you apart.”

“I’m not interested in your excuses. Just let me try to put my heart back together in peace,” Rowan quickly replied before setting her phone to silent and shoving it back in her pocket. She got to her feet and headed back in to the kitchen to start making some tea. It was going to be a long, sleepless night.

#prompt #Monsterhearts #Rowan Axel #sorry this isn't a happy story

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jrubalcaba · 7 years ago

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Can’t Help Falling In Love - Ch. 19

Can’t Help Falling In Love Chapter 19 - A Steve x OFC fanfiction

author: jrubalcaba

featuring: OFC Evelyn “Evie” Rogers x Steve Rogers

word count: 5623 words

rating: PG

warnings: Cussing, more fluff!

A/N: Credit to @suz-123 for the character of Alice. Thanks to @celeb-fess for being my beta!

Here’s the reception!

Steve and I were seated side by side as the rest of our wedding party celebrated in the back of the limo. We had just left Central Park, where we had gone to take more pictures. I was getting hungry and tired of standing. To be honest, the thought of making it to our honeymoon destination and finally being alone with Steve was all I had to keep me going. Sam was rummaging around when he pulled out a bottle of champagne and opened it, the cork flying around as we all dodged it. He grabbed glasses and began filling them up.

“I’m sure this is one of many, but let’s make a toast to the new couple!” he shouted, passing us all a glass. Everyone lifted their glasses in our direction before we all clinked them together and drank. I eyed Alice as she ever so slyly poured her drink into Bucky’s. She is really trying her best to not get shit faced tonight. She looked up to see if anyone had saw her and I caught her eye, winking at her as she smiled.

“So,” she began. “How does it feel to finally be Mrs. Steve Rogers?”

Everyone turned to me expectantly. I snuck a peek at Steve, who was beaming, before answering.

“Pretty damn good. I mean, I’ve only been wanting this since - forever. It’s a fucking dream come true!” I exclaimed, reaching over to grab Steve’s left hand and holding it up. “See this?” I asked, pointing to his wedding ring. “This is the absolute sexiest thing I’ve ever seen him wear, and it makes it even better knowing that I’m the one who put it there!” Everyone cheered again as Steve pulled me in for another kiss.

“Sexiest thing huh? Not like I planned on taking it off anytime soon, but now that you said that, I damn sure ain’t taking this thing off,” he swore, capturing my lips again. Just then, the limo stopped. We looked out the window and saw that we were back at the Tower, where Tony had begged and pleaded for us to hold the reception. After a full two weeks, we finally had caved, knowing that if Tony was given his way, our reception was going to be one to remember. Pepper had her phone out, talking to someone upstairs, apparently making sure the staff was ready for us to head on up.

“Ok, so the DJ is going to announce us as couples before we enter, with Bucky and Alice being announced together as Best Man and Maid of Honor. Then, he will announce you two before you can make your grand entrance,” she rattled off, making sure that we all knew the plan since this wasn’t something we had thought to rehearse. We all exited the limo before loading up in the elevator and headed for the common room. Once we made it, Alice ushered us all into the coat room to wait. I say coat room because calling it a coat closet would be a gross understatement. She lined us up in the recessional order that we left the church in; Tony and Pepper, Scott and Maria, Clint and Wanda, Sam and Nat, then she and Bucky, with Steve and I bringing up the rear. The DJ called the couples out one by one until it was our turn.

“Alright folks, please join me in welcoming our newlyweds. You know ‘em, you love ‘em, today’s all about ‘em, so put your hands together for Steve and Evie Rogers!”

With a wink, Steve grabbed my hand and led us forward, where we were greeted by the deafening applause of our guests. We followed our wedding party to the high table, sitting in the chairs draped with tulle and ribbon bearing the signs ‘Captain’ and ‘Mrs. Captain’. As always, Steve pulled my chair out for me, ever the gentleman. We sat there while everyone got settled, before the DJ called attention to himself. “Please remain seated, as the bride and groom have their first dance.” The beginning chords of Elvis Presley’s ‘Can’t Help Falling In Love’ began to play as Steve led me to the middle of the room and twirled me around in his arms. We swayed in time to the music, just happy to be together. I could hear people clinking silverware against glasses, and I giggled.

“What’s so funny, Mrs. Rogers?” Steve mused in my ear. I kissed him before answering.

“One, that’s Doctor Rogers, and two, whenever someone clinks their glass, the bride and groom are supposed to kiss.” He nodded in understanding, his hand coming up to grab my chin.

“Well, then I guess we better give them what they want,” he mused, bringing his lips to mine. There was laughter mixed in with applause, followed by either Bucky or Sam whooping from the table.

“You know what I just thought of?” I asked quietly. He shook his head. “We’re dancing to this song again, like we did on our almost first date. I say almost ‘cause since you didn’t get to ask me, it didn’t count,” I teased. He threw his head back in laughter.

“Well, singing along to the words was my way of asking, and since you did ‘take my hand’ you were saying yes,” he explained. I rolled my eyes at him.

“Yeah, ‘cause that’s how you do it,” I scoffed. He chuckled.

“It worked, didn’t it?” he asked with a sly grin. I laughed, knowing that he was right. Once the song finished, we sat back down as Bruce stood and clinked his glass to get everyone’s attention.

“I’d like to thank everyone for coming out today to celebrate Evie and Steve’s special day. A lot of you may know that Evie isn’t mine biologically, but she is my daughter in every way that matters.” I bit my lip to keep from crying as I watched him catch his breath. “She’s the most precious person in my life, and as hard as it was to give her away today, I know that she’s in good hands.” I snuck a quick look at Steve, who was looking nervous. “Steve, you may be older than me, but that doesn’t mean that I’ll go easy on you if anything happens to my girl. So, no pressure.” He gave Steve a knowing smirk, his eyes twinkling. The crowd chuckled at Steve’s discomfort. “Oh, and welcome to the family. To Evie and Steve!” Bruce raised his glass in a toast before everyone else raised theirs in a toast as well. I elbowed Steve in the arm, giggling.

“Don’t worry. You’re doing a magnificent job,” I reassured him. We then looked to Alice and Bucky expectantly, for we had agreed that they and Bruce would be the only ones giving speeches. We knew that if we didn’t set down that rule, Tony would have the mic all night. They squabbled silently, each making faces at the other to get them to go first, before Bucky leaned behind Steve.

“Let’s make this easy. Ladies first,” he whispered, gesturing to her. I snorted, trying to keep myself from laughing out loud. She smirked and whispered back.

“Well, I guess that means that it’s your turn then.” His jaw dropped before he huffed and squared his shoulders. He grabbed his drink and grabbed the mic from Bruce, clearing his throat.

“For those of you who don’t know me, I’m Bucky Barnes.” There were a few murmurs in the crowd, and I wasn’t having it.

“Hey, you can either shut up and listen, or here’s the damn door,” I shouted, pointing towards the elevator. They went silent immediately, looking ashamed. “That’s what I thought.” I looked over at him and nodded for him to go on. He smiled gratefully, mouthing the words ‘thank you’.

“And that’s why she’s the bride,” he quipped, breaking the tension as the crowd laughed. “I’d like to thank everyone for coming out to help celebrate Steve and Evie. I know that it means so much to them to see all of you here. I’d also like to thank everyone who has helped make today as beautiful and wonderful as possible. Let’s hear it for them, because without them, today would have been pretty dull.” Everyone clapped in agreement, including Steve and I. Bucky waited for quiet before he went on.

“Steve and I go back, and I mean way back. We’ve been through a lot, and while we don’t remember all of it, one thing’s for sure, we’ve never forgotten each other. There have been times where I wanted to beat him…at everything,” he corrected quickly, remembering there were children in the audience. We all chuckled as a sheepish look came over him. “Regardless, the good times far outweigh the bad. Like now, at long last, he has finally admitted that I am, in fact, the best man.” We all burst out laughing then, including Steve. “But, in all seriousness, Steve, you are my best friend, my brother, and I wish you all the happiness in the world.” Everyone awed, a few teary eyes in the crowd.

“Now, when you’ve known Steve as long as I have, you look forward to this day because you can’t wait to get to know the woman that actually wants to marry him. I knew, that whoever she was, she would have to be a truly exceptional woman to put up with his stubbornness for the rest of her life.” Bucky turned to me, a look of brotherly love on his face. “Evie, you look absolutely stunning today. Steve is truly a lucky man, and I’m so happy to finally have you as a sister.” I smiled back at him, happy that he felt that I was good enough for Steve. “For those of you who know Evie well, you know that she is a caring and wonderful person and that she deserves a good husband. I’m just thankful that Steve married her before she was able to find one.” The room erupted in laughter as Steve shook his head at Bucky. Knowing him, I grabbed both of his hands so he wouldn’t be able to flip the bird. “Steve, I’m just messing with you. If you’re half as good at being a husband as you are at being a soldier, then you two are going to be alright. To Steve and Evie,” he called, raising his glass in our direction before taking a drink.

The guests echoed him, raising their glasses at us as well. “Now, here’s the male, er Maid of Honor, and my better half, Alice.” I snorted my drink, leaving Steve to thump me on the back a few times as I sputtered. Alice elbowed Bucky in the side as they switched spots, shooting him an ‘I dare you’ look at him when he made to get her back. He backed off, knowing that he could get her back later. She waited for everyone to settle down before she went on with her speech.

“As he pointed out, I’m Alice Winters. First off, I’d like to thank Evie and Steve for putting together such a wonderful day and for asking me to be apart of it. No one has been waiting for them to get together longer than I have. I mean, I torched her ex-boyfriend’s car so they could be together.” There were gasps and chuckles from the crowd as Steve and I turned to each other in shock. I looked at Bucky and he winked.

The gall of this woman is astounding. The crowd went quiet so Alice could go on.

“Evie is my best friend, and the closest I’ll ever get to having a sister.” She looked over and I smiled at her, touched by her admission. “We’ve known each other since I came to New York with Steve and Bucky and she’s one of the most genuine and caring people I’ve ever met. She looks beyond a person’s past and doesn’t judge them for it.” She stopped for a moment, sniffling. Was I going crazy or was Alice Winters, resident Slayer, being emotional for once? “Steve, you are such a lucky man to have this incredible woman by your side. I….” she trailed off, her eyes shining with tears. “Excuse me please.” She put the mic down and walked off, waving people off as they went to intercept her. I got up and followed her down the hall, patting Bucky on the back so he knew that I had this. She stopped, her hands covering her face. I could hear her quiet sobs, and my heart sank.

“Alice, what’s wrong?” I asked, worried. I walked around to look at her head on, rubbing her arm. “Whatever it is, please tell me so I can try to fix it.” She dropped her hands and pulled some tissues out of her pocket, trying to clean off her face.

“I’m sorry. I’m just so happy for you two.” Her voice was eerily calm, no hint of the tears rolling down her face. “I never thought I would ever be considered anyone’s friend, let alone their maid of honor.” Oh, Alice. I enveloped her in a hug, squeezing her tightly.

“Allie, of course, you’re my friend. Don’t ever think otherwise.” She hugged me back and we stood there as she got her breathing and tears under control. “Did you really set Brian’s car on fire?” She grinned then, nodding.

“Of course. You and Steve are clearly made for each other, and you were taking too long to sort it out on your own,” she explained simply as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Ya know what? I ain’t even mad. I got who I wanted, so thanks,” I shot back with a grin. She rolled her eyes at me.

“I knew that when I did it. You’re welcome.” Steve walked up then, looking somewhat uncomfortable with women and their emotions.

“What’s up, baby?” I asked him, stepping away from Alice.

“Well, we weren’t sure when you’d be back, so we started dinner,” he stated. “And I wanted to make sure everything was okay.” I nodded as Alice walked off to find a mirror to fix her makeup.

“Yeah I’m fine,” she called over her shoulder. “Oh, and don’t expect me to go around torching people’s cars every time you need something. Bucky got well fucking angry at me for doing that!” She stomped into the bathroom as Steve and I chuckled.

“Come on, let’s go eat. I’m starving.” He offered his arm for me to take as we came back to the table and dug into our meals.

Once everyone was done with dinner, and the plates were all cleared away, the DJ got everyone’s attention once again.

“Ladies and gentlemen, please keep the floor clear as we have the Father/Daughter dance,” he announced, the beginning of Rascal Flatts’ ‘My Wish’ playing as Bruce escorted me to the dance floor. He twirled me around, showing off the dance lessons that he and Steve attended.

“Not bad, for a guy with an anger problem,” I teased, earning a chuckle from him.

“Har, har. I did this for you, ya know,” he snarked back. “Could show some respect.” I giggled before placing a kiss to his cheek.

“I know. Thanks Dad.” Bruce squeezed me tightly for a moment. “You’re not going to start crying too, are you?” He pulled back to give me his most unimpressed look.

“No I’m not. Why would I? It’s not like the adoption went through just a few months ago, only making you my daughter for a split second before I had to give you away. No, I’m not going to cry.” He swallowed loudly, taking a deep breath and sniffling.

“Bruce, you know that you’ll always be my dad, no matter what. Even if Idiot One and Two made good on their promise.” He scoffed as we both remembered to a few months back.

My birth parents, after not wanting me around since I was born, decided to make contact for the first time since I was three. They had come to the Tower in an attempt to see me and to try bullying me into letting them attend the wedding. When I had told them that I had all the family I needed/wanted, they got belligerent.

Apparently, they saw me, not as a drain on their drug money, but as a new source of it. I was a successful scientist and doctor, and I was marrying Captain America, so I could see the allure. Bruce had gotten so angry the other guy had almost paid a visit. If Steve and the rest of the Team hadn’t been there, it could have gone so much worse. They had been able to get Bruce down to the lab to cool off, but I was the maddest I’ve ever been. I yelled and yelled and yelled some more, letting out all of the frustration that had built up over the years.

Once I had gotten it all out, they played the ‘we’re so sorry, boo hoo hoo’ card, promising that they would try to stay in touch more. I wasn’t too happy about it, but I let it go. They were not given information about the wedding though, as Steve and I agreed that we didn’t need nor want them there. They had been calling every few days, trying to break us down so they could come, but I was too angry to allow it. Last time they had called was about two weeks ago, so I wasn’t too upset.

“You’re damn right I’ll always be your dad. Nothing is going to change that, ever,” he swore. We hugged each other tightly as our song finished. He led me back to my seat, where we were greeted by Steve and a dark-skinned man with three dark-skinned women behind him. I felt Bruce slip away, clearly trying to avoid any conflict, and I didn’t blame him. Steve wrapped his arm around me and whispered in my ear.

“Curtsey.” I did so as he bowed, feeling like my life depended on it. The man smiled, waving his hand. “Evie, I’d like to introduce you to T’Challa, King of Wakanda.” Oh my god.

“Oh! Your Highness! It’s such an honor to meet you,” I rambled, starstruck. He smiled warmly, reaching for my hand.

“No, the pleasure is all mine. You are absolutely exquisite,” he complemented in his rich accent as he kissed the back of my hand. Oh my goodness, I internally swooned. “Let me introduce my wife Gail, my mother Ramonda, and my personal bodyguard, Ayo.” He gestured to each of them in turn as I curtsied to each.

“It’s wonderful to meet you all. Gail, Alice has told me so much about you, so it’s nice to finally be able to put a face to the name.” She smiled warmly, T’Challa beaming with pride.

“It’s nice to meet you too. After hearing Steve talk about you, we’ve all been wondering about this woman who had captured his heart, was,” she replied, Steve going red in the face. I smirked up at him as the others chuckled.

“Enough about me,” he cut in. “We are incredibly honored to have you here. Thank you so much for coming.” T’Challa’s mother stepped forward, linking arms with Steve.

“Steven, I think you need to dance, yes?” she asked. Steve and I exchanged glances, so she went on to explain. “Evie had her father/daughter dance, so how about if I dance with you?” I gasped. That was so sweet. I nodded as he looked to me, the question in his eyes.

“Go! I’ll go talk to the DJ and have him find a song,” I went to walk away when I ran into Nat, who looked at our company warily.

A/N: I WROTE THIS PART BEFORE ANY OF THE TEASERS FOR INFINITY WAR EVEN CAME OUT, SO I CALLED IT!

“Is everything okay here?” she asked, her posture slightly changing into a defensive one. Ayo stepped forward then, staring her down.

“The Queen is going to dance with the Captain. Move, or you will be moved,” she growled. Nat slowly slid behind me to let Steve and Ramonda by. I turned to her with a ‘holy shit’ look on my face.

“Okay, so can you go to the DJ and have him play “What a Wonderful World” while they dance?” I asked. She glared back at Ayo, neither of them wanting to turn their back on the other. “Now, Natasha,” I snapped. She blinked quickly, nodding before turning away. Just then, Bucky walked up, the smile on his face quickly fading.

“What’s wrong?” He sounded worried, looking at me for confirmation.

“Nat and Ayo didn’t see eye to eye. It’s all good now though,” I answered. He nodded before bowing to T’Challa and Gail.

“Your Highnesses. So glad that you were able to make it. Steve invited them, of course,” he added on, seeing my eyebrows almost disappear into my hair. I held my hands up in surrender.

“That’s fine. I had no idea they were invited is all,” I replied. The song ended and Bucky offered his arm. “Are you wanting to dance with little ole me?” He nodded, before turning to T’Challa.

“Yes, as long as it’s okay with the king. Then, perhaps he and I can switch partners and I can dance with Gail.” We all nodded our agreement before Bucky led me to the floor, passing Steve and Ramonda on the way. “Sorry bro, but T’Challa has dibs on her next. Then you can have her back.” Steve looked put out, and it made me laugh. “Come on dude, you’re going to have Evie all to yourself tonight, not to mention for your honeymoon. I want a dance before you guys leave forever,” he added on as an afterthought. Steve hung his head and nodded before walking over to snag Alice for a dance.

“Hey, no sad thoughts today,” I chastised him. He grinned at me, spinning us around in a circle. “You know you’ll see him from time to time, so don’t give me that ‘boo hoo I’ll never see Steve again’ baloney.” He laughed as we continued to dance, finishing the song out before T’Challa tapped Bucky’s shoulder. I gave Bucky a kiss on the cheek before allowing myself to be swept up in the king’s arms, while Gail pulled Bucky in for a dance. “We are truly honored to have you here,” I reiterated. “Thank you, Your Highness, for coming to our wedding, and for keeping Steve safe. Bucky and Alice too.” He brushed my comment aside.

“It was no problem, my dear. We were surprised to get an invitation, but once we understood that you were the woman, we knew we had to meet you.” I smiled, smug that I had been the one for him all these years. “It was no big deal keeping them safe. I had a future wife to protect as well,” he chuckled.

The song ended, and I had a waiting list of admirers who wanted to dance with me. Finally, after many dances, the last one incredibly painful with Vision, I was rescued by Steve, who wasted no time in claiming my lips as he danced us to the edge of the room. I smiled into the kiss, happy to be in his arms again.

“Did you miss me, baby?” he crooned, tilting my chin up.

“Of course, my love. Why wouldn’t I miss you?” I asked softly as I leaned back in to kiss him before he spun me around and I caught a glance of Bucky and Alice off to the side as well. They seemed to be off in their own little world, staring lovingly at each other.

God.

I tugged Steve’s sleeve and pointed in their direction.

“Is he doing what I think he’s doing?” I asked Steve as Bucky was down on one knee. We watched as he reached into his jacket and pulled a box out, opening it to Alice’s shocked face.

“He’s been talking about it for a while. Didn’t think he’d do it here, though,” Steve pouted.

Alice broke into a smile, nodding enthusiastically and Bucky jumped to his feet, kissing her deeply before pulling what I assumed was a ring out of the box and sliding it onto her finger. Then, Alice grabbed what looked like another ring and stuck it on his finger. What the hell?

“Okay, now I’m confused. Let’s go see what’s going on,” I said as I led him over to them. “So, I’m lost,” I squeaked as I hugged Alice and Steve clapped Bucky on the back.

“Well, we’ve talked about the future and well, marriage just isn’t something we’re fond of, so these are just promise rings,” she explained, smiling up at Bucky as he wrapped his arm around her.

Aww. Total heart eye emoji moment.

“Yeah, Alice has been it for a while, might as well make it official,” he reasoned, kissing her temple. Steve and I smiled at our friends, knowing the wonderful family they’re going to make.

“That is so beautiful. Congratulations you guys,” I replied, giving them another hug before we walked off to dance some more. After a few more songs, I heard Alice call my name.

“It’s time for the bouquet toss, Mrs. Rogers,” she sing-songed, skipping up to us. I frowned, not wanting to leave Steve’s side. “Don’t give me that look, you know you gotta do it.” I sighed, not wanting to be the center of attention again. “How about this, the sooner you and Steve throw the bouquet and garter, and cut the cake, the sooner you get to leave for the airport,” she reasoned. Steve and I locked eyes, the knowledge that our honeymoon was so close, made us want to get through this as quickly as possible.

“Deal. Let’s do it,” I replied, grabbing my bouquet and following Alice to the dance floor. She waved her hand and the dj started playing ‘Single Ladies’ and all of the single women assembled in a group a few feet behind me. I glanced over my shoulder as I teased them a bit, before finally throwing it high over my head. I heard a collective gasp, followed by cheering. I turned and saw that Cassie had been the one to catch it. I walked over and hugged her, Laura snapping a quick picture.

Then, Steve was carrying a chair and set it down, gesturing for me to take a seat. I sat down, grabbing the hem of my dress and lifting it up so Steve could find my garters. He winked at me while smiling his wolfy grin as he ducked underneath, his hands squeezing my legs. Suddenly, I felt his lips kissing along my inner thighs as he made it to where my garters were. I could feel his teeth grazing my skin as he tried to remove the garters. I jumped a few times as he kept losing them and had to bite again and again. The crowd started to laugh, prompting me to blush.

“He’s using his teeth and he keeps biting my leg,” I called out, making our audience laugh even more. Finally, Steve re-emerged with a sly grin on his face.

“I can’t wait to take your lingerie off later,” he whispered in my ear. I stood with a grin of my own before walking over to Alice.

“Thank you for helping me pick out the proper undergarments for today,” I murmured. She smiled knowingly, no doubt having heard what he had said to me.

“Well, you did need something that he would want to rip off,” she answered. We both looked up as Steve flung the garter behind him, it coming to rest in the hands of Sam. Steve walked to him, shaking his hand as Laura took a picture.

“Evie, Steve, let’s cut the cake. Some of us have a major sweet tooth that’s jonesing for something,” Nat whined. We laughed before following her over to the table, where our beautiful cake was waiting for us. We had our guests gather around the table as Steve and I grabbed the knife to slice ourselves a piece. We posed, knife aloft while Laura snapped a few pictures. Then, we slowly cut a couple pieces, grabbing them to feed each other. I smiled sweetly at Steve, knowing that he had no idea what was coming. My piece was almost in his mouth before I smeared it up and all over his face, and I could hear Bucky cheering.

He and I were now $100 richer. I told Sam not to bet against me.

The shock registered on Steve’s face for a moment, before he grabbed the back of my head and proceeded to rub the cake all over my face as well. There were laughs all around as we stepped back, seeing how ridiculous we looked and joining in with everyone. I grabbed some napkins and began wiping his face off while Nat and Bucky began to hand out slices to everyone. Alice walked up then, a bag in hand.

“Bucky is so happy you did it, Evie,” she applauded. I grinned at her, knowing she was smart enough to not bet any money against me. “It’s time to get you ready for your flight, so please come with me so I can help you out of your dress. Don’t worry Steve, she’ll still have her knickers on underneath,” she promised. He looked relieved, as was I, because we were both looking forward to taking those off later.

“Oh, I was happy to do it,” I replied, smug. “Let’s get me out of this thing. It’s pretty and all, but it’s a bitch to walk around in. How women used to wear dresses like this all the time is beyond me.” I made to follow her down the hall before she turned back.

“Oh, Steve, Bucky left you a change of clothes on your bed, so you can put those on if you want.” He looked excited, knowing that we were that much closer to leaving. I blew him a kiss as I followed her into her and Bucky’s room.

We made quick work of my buttons, only undoing enough so I could shimmy out the rest of the way. She handed me my going away dress so I could put it on while she hung my gown so it wouldn’t get wrinkled.

I stepped into the bathroom to get the rest of the cake and icing off my face. Once I was ready, I left to find Steve, who was in his own bathroom, cleaning the cake off his face as well.

“Hey,” I spoke softly, not wanting to startle him, even though I knew he had already heard me. He caught my gaze in the mirror, smiling as we both realized that we were alone. He walked toward me, backing me up against the wall. “No, not here,” I cautioned as he began to kiss my neck.

“Why not?” he breathed as he nibbled on my earlobe. I was so ready for him, but I knew that if we started, we wouldn’t be able to stop.

“Because I do not want any kind of interruptions tonight.” I pushed against his chest and he backed up, a bulge in his pants. “Put that thing away. I promise I’ll play with it later.” He sighed in defeat as I left him alone to calm down. Once he had fixed his problem, he joined me in the hallway and we came back to the party together.

Everyone was applauding us, making an aisle to the elevator so we could say goodbye to all of our guests as we left. We slowly made our way through, giving hugs to our friends before arriving at the team, who were at a loss for words, so happy for the both of us. We went through them one at a time, saving Bruce, Bucky and Alice for last. I embraced Bruce first, wanting to hang on to my dad for a little bit longer.

“I’m so happy for you. Enjoy yourself and be careful,” he whispered in my ear.

“I will dad. Remember to take deep breaths, okay?” I whispered back before letting him go. Alice claimed me next, squeezing me tightly. “I know it’s my honeymoon, but if an emergency comes up, please call me.” She nodded in understanding.

“Don’t worry. He’ll only call about the house if need be. Have fun, and don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” she warned with a wink. Bucky was the last to say goodbye, pulling me into a vice-like hug, the air leaving my body.

“Please take care of him for me, please Evie.” He sounded like I was careless enough to let Steve come to harm. I scoffed at him.

“Bucky, we’re going on our honeymoon, not to the front lines of World War II. We’ll be safe, I promise.” He released me, kissing my cheek before grabbing Steve in an even tighter hug. They stayed that way for a while, before they finally split, clapping each other’s shoulders.

“Bye Stevie, bye Evie,” he wished us. “Hey, you guys rhyme,” he pointed out, and we laughed before getting into the elevator. Tony walked forward just then, saying one last thing before the doors shut.

“Don’t forget, there are cameras. If there’s nothing you want us to see, I’d wait,” he warned us as his face vanished from view. Steve and I looked at each other, and we were thinking the same thing: this is going to be the longest elevator ride ever.

TAG LIST:

@suz-123 @avenger-nerd-mom @aglarelen @amaranthuspetals @amillionfandoms-onlyoneme @bad-wolf87 @bolontiku @brighterlightss @buckybarnesappreciationsociety @buckyywiththegoodhair @caplansteverogers @captainradicalpassion @caramell0w @celeb-fess @delicatecapnerd @doloreschanal @donnaintx @earinafae @etts21 @ghostssss @girlbehindthecameraposts @gramaeryebard @handshugging @jhangelface0523 @kimistry27 @liz-pbnz @loki-god-of-my-life @magellan-88 @marvel-trash07 @pegasusdragontiger @punkfrog @ruinerofcheese @ryverpenrad @sarahp879 @silver-starburst @the-real-kellymonster

#jrubalcaba #cant help falling in love #steve rogers #evie rogers

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ohnojustimagine · 7 years ago

Text

Someone Not You

Kenny Omega/Reader, mentioned Kenny/Kota Ibushi 2210 words; Smut and Angst

This is set after the G1 finals.

Anon requested post-match smut with Kenny and I’m pretty sure this probably isn’t what you wanted because it’s basically angst with more angst on top, so I’m sorry about that! But there is smut in it? At least?

***

You always watch Kenny’s matches from backstage. He’s asked you a few times if you’d rather be in the audience, but you prefer it this way, with some distance. You love to see him do what he does best, but sometimes it’s not easy for you, to witness what he puts himself through. And tonight you know he won’t be holding anything back, so you take a deep breath, steadying yourself, eyes glued to one of the monitors as the final begins.

It’s full on right from the start, and you’re familiar enough with Kenny’s body by now that you can see how he’s favoring his knee even when he shouldn’t be, tension knotting in your stomach as things progress. The botch with the table is so bad that you have to turn away for a while, but you clench your jaw, forcing yourself to watch: every bump, every blow as it continues.

He’s utterly brilliant, magnificent even in defeat, and it never fails to stun you how much of himself he gives to his matches, leaving nothing behind, prepared to sacrifice his whole being in the service of what he loves. But tonight, it’s all for nothing, and Naito’s already on the mic, accepting his trophy and his due.

And at last Kenny staggers into the room with the Bucks either side of him, giving you a weak thumbs up as he collapses down onto a bench. The three of them are almost immediately in deep discussion about the match, reviewing footage on someone’s phone, Kenny still breathing heavily with an ice bag pressed to his neck. “Here,” you say, standing behind him, taking the bag, holding it in place, and he glances back up at you, giving you a small, gratefully affectionate smile before continuing on with his conversation.

Eventually, he limps off for a shower, and you wait, making aimless small talk with Matt and Nick for a few minutes before they start going over the match again, between themselves, so you move away a little, giving them some space. They’re never anything but polite to you, but there’s a guardedness, a distinct reserve in the way they treat you. You used to think they didn’t like you, and maybe at first, that was true, as they’re so protective of Kenny that they don’t trust easily, but as time has passed, you’ve come to realize it’s more that they don’t feel there’s any point in getting to know you. You’re aware you’re just another in a long line of Kenny’s relationships, none of which have ever lasted.

And you want to tell yourself you’re different, that you understand him, that, unlike some of the others, you don’t demand any more than he’s capable of giving, but you’re not so sure that even matters. Not in the long run.

Kenny’s first priority is his career, always, and perhaps that should bother you, knowing that you come second, but his dedication and ambition, that clear-eyed single-minded focus, are all part of what you love about him, so you accept it.

Or, at least, you try to.

You all head off for dinner with Masa and some sponsor, and Kenny’s even quieter than normal. He’s exhausted, of course, you wouldn’t expect any less after a match like that, but there’s another aspect to it tonight. There’s an edge of restless tension to him, the hint of something not quite resolved, as if the tournament isn’t actually over.

And maybe it isn’t, not really, because this tournament hasn’t been like any other, and you’re not stupid.

You know why.

You’d asked Kenny about Kota when you first got together, curious with all the stories you’d heard, wondering how much was and wasn’t true.

“Ancient history,” he’d scoffed, and even then, you’d known he was lying. And not so much to you, but to himself, as if you weren’t the person who he needed to convince.

But you’d let it go, told yourself that whatever had happened, they were no longer together, that Kenny was with you. It’s only now you’re starting to suspect that Kenny hasn’t ever really been with you, not wholly, that there’s somewhere within him you won’t ever reach, a piece of his heart that can never be truly touched by anyone less than golden.

He’s silent in the taxi on the ride back to his apartment, and you offer to go home to your own place if he needs time alone, but he gives you a look, like you’re crazy, and says, “Of course not.”

And as soon as you’re inside, the door shut tight behind you, Kenny pulls you close to him, arms wrapped around you, and he just stands there like that, holding you, breathing. You gently hug him back, taking care with how you touch him, not wanting to cause him any more pain, aggravate any of the hurts he’s received over the last few weeks. You feel his body start to relax, his muscles loosening, and after a few minutes, he starts to kiss you. You’re expecting something slow, unhurried, but there’s an urgency to it that surprises you, and you respond in kind, your arousal quick and intense, rising within you, uncontrolled.

He unbuttons your skirt, and you pause long enough to take it off, your panties removed along with it, kicking off your shoes before reclaiming Kenny’s mouth with desperate insistence.

He walks you backwards towards the dining table, and you’re expecting him to lift you up so you can get your legs wrapped around his waist, but instead he turns you around, pushing you down face first so you’re bent over the surface. He shoves your t-shirt up out of the way and unfastens your bra, running one hand up and and down your back, his other hand between your legs, two fingers rough into your wetness.

He fucks them in and out of you, and you shift your hips, greedy for more, needing his cock, but instead he drags his fingers upward, one teasing at your ass, circling over your hole before pushing in. You moan, because yeah, you know what he wants, and you love it like this.

“Don’t move,” he mutters, the words sounding so much like a threat it sends a cold thrill through you, so you wait, listening to him walk off, looking back over your shoulder as he returns with lube. And this isn’t a seduction, there’s no slow tease here, only ruthless efficiency as he slicks up his fingers, two inside you, then three, and you’re more than ready.

He enters you slowly, and you inhale, letting yourself relax into it, because no matter how many times you do this, Kenny’s still big, and it always takes you a second to get your head round the feeling of it, but then you nod, say, “Okay.”

“No,” he says, a strained impatience in his voice. “Don’t talk.” He starts to move, and he doesn’t hold back, going rough and hard right from the start, and fuck but you can feel it, the sharp burn of every thrust, the pleasure of it so viciously crude you have to bite down to stop yourself from crying out, not wanting him to ever stop.

You manage to get your hand under yourself, rubbing your clit, and you’re soon coming, tightening around him, and you hear him moan, low and harsh, slamming into you one last time as he finishes.

He pulls out of you, and you wince at the feel of it, but he doesn’t say anything. You can hear him panting, his hand still pressed into the small of your back, holding you down, and after a few moments, he stalks off, silently, into the bedroom.

You don’t move, gathering yourself, but then you push up on your hands, standing, heading straight for the bathroom where you shower. The water’s too hot, but you don’t adjust it until it feels like your skin’s on fire, scalded raw.

Kenny’s asleep by the time you make it to the bedroom, and you stare down at him. He’s usually peaceful in slumber, but tonight he’s frowning, lines etched across his forehead. His legs twitch, and he murmurs something that you can’t quite make out, even though you lean in, trying to decipher the words.

You sigh quietly to yourself, and climb into the bed, lying beside him, gazing up at the ceiling.

***

You wake early, slipping on a robe and leaving Kenny snoring as you head out into the kitchen to make some tea. And you’re idly scrolling through twitter when you see it, the video of the two of them backstage last night, right after the match. You suddenly sit up straight, immediately tense, watching it all the way through and then watching it again.

And it’s not as if you didn’t know, but knowing something and seeing it are two utterly different things. The way they look at each other, what passes between them, unspoken, their touches, their posture, their bodies expressing so much more than mere words could ever hope to.

You breathe in, placing your phone face down on the table and taking another sip of tea.

An hour or so later, Kenny wanders in, still naked, sleepily rubbing his eyes. “Hey,” you greet him, and he bends over, kissing the top of your head. He opens a cupboard, rattling around, fixing himself one of his high-protein shakes, the blender buzzing as he mixes it.

He’s leaning back against the counter when you turn, watching him carefully, waiting for his reaction when you say, “Do you want to talk about Kota?”

And there it is, that flash of something in his eyes; passion or hatred or maybe both, an intensity like nothing else, but it’s only the briefest second before his face goes hard and blank, shuttered against you. “There’s nothing to talk about.”

“I saw the video of you two,” you say, aware that you’re likely pushing too far.

But he only says, “Yeah,” perfectly, evenly casual, as if it’s nothing. “I’m sure everyone’s seen it by now.”

He gulps down the last of his drink, putting the container in the sink and walking back into the bedroom. You sit there a while longer, thinking, but then follow him.

He’s sitting up in bed, tapping a message into his phone, and you can’t stop yourself from glancing at the screen long enough to check, noting that it’s Matt he’s texting.

“You should sleep some more,” you say, and he shrugs in reply.

“How’s the knee?” you ask.

“Okay,” he answers, the word short and curt.

“Don’t forget you’re seeing that surgeon tomorrow,” you remind him. The appointment was booked weeks ago for straight after the finals, because he’ll need as much time as possible to recover before the Destruction series starts.

“I remember,” he says, finally looking up. He smiles at you, eyes so tired it makes you ache, and lifts up the covers beside him, inviting you in. You snuggle up next to him, your arm draped over his waist, head in the crook of his broad shoulder, wanting this to be the place you belong.

After a while, he puts down his phone, lying down on his back and pulling you over on top of him, kissing you. It’s warm and familiar and comfortable, everything last night wasn’t, and you reach down, taking hold of his hard cock, lining it up against your waiting cunt, sinking down on to him.

You roll your hips, riding him good and slow, making it last as long as you can until he comes, watching his face, how beautiful he is, wishing more than anything this could last forever; one pure, true moment that never ends.

When he’s done, he spoons up behind you, kissing your ear. “I love you,” he says, softly. “You know that, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” you tell him. “I know.” And you do, because he does, but what you also know is that he doesn’t love you enough, that his affection for you is merely that: affection, not some grand sweeping passion that legends are made of.

But if that’s all you can have of him, you’ll take it. And maybe that makes you sad, or pathetic, but you don’t care.

“I love you too,” you say. You lie there, waiting as you hear his breathing deepen, feeling his chest rise and fall against your spine as he drifts back into sleep. You slide out of his embrace, sure not to wake him, and wander back out into the living room. You tell yourself you won’t watch the video again, but you do, letting it loop over and over until you finally close twitter, tossing your phone aside in anger, a sour, metallic taste in your mouth. And it’s yourself you’re furious with, not him, because you don’t know what else you expected.

You’re aware the rational, dignified action would be to break things off, give him the freedom you suspect he can’t or won’t admit he needs, but you’re far too stubborn to take the easy way out. You and Kenny have that in common, at least, you think bitterly.

You’ll fight for him, and you’ll lose, you’re certain of that, but you won’t give up.

Not until the very end.

#kenny omega #kenny omega angst #kenny omega smut #kenny omega imagine #njpw imagine

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artificialqueens · 7 years ago

Text

If Samson and Delilah Lived Happily Ever After (Sashea) - Melon

A/N: The slam poets AU nobody ever asked for. Shea is an ethereal goddess and Sasha is unprepared. This is my first fic, so any and all criticism is welcomed. Don’t worry about seeming rude, I have a thick skin!

The bar is cold and filled with people, but the heat of their tiny bodies stood no chance of warming the large space. Chatter, fast and meaningless, drifts through Sasha’s body, leaving as quickly as it came.

She likes it.

Nobody attempts to speak to her, and she doesn’t mind. It isn’t the kind of bar a person goes to with intentions of making new friends. Perhaps next week Sasha would bring Peppermint, let her bright energy fill Sasha’s time and mind.

But for now, Sasha is content with sipping the surprisingly affordable drink she’d ordered, watching the people around her socialize.

The bartender, Aja, tops off Sasha’s drink with a smile and a promise of conversation once she’s dealt with her other customers.

Aja and Sasha knew each other through a series of bad decisions made on a drunken night with mutual friends. They shared a sacred bond. When Aja invited Sasha to a poetry night at the bar she worked at, Sasha knew she’d be attending; friendships built off body shots deserve at least a second outing.

Sasha lets her mind drift, lets her eyes dance between various strangers’ faces, before settling back on a now seated Aja.

“Any other night and I’d be out of here as soon as my shift ended, but sis, Shea’s performing tonight and I’m not about to go missing that. She doesn’t come around enough anymore,” Aja says, her excitement for the coming hour infecting Sasha. Aja has a particular way of doing things, that way being that she would show up for people she deems interesting, and drop off the face of the planet with anyone else. Sasha supposes she must be one of the former.

“Is she any good?” Sasha asks, still half in her own world, but enjoying the click of Aja’s long nails on the bar and the way she doesn’t seem to give a fuck. “I’ve never heard of her before.”

“Girl, she’s so good, you might fall in love with her before she leaves the stage. Gotta be careful with girls like Shea Couleé,” Aja throws back at Sasha, aware that most people fell for Shea Couleé. She’s just that kind of person. Despite Sasha’s grumble of doubt, Aja knows. Nobody sees Shea perform and leaves without at least a small crush on her.

This time, Aja hopes the feeling will be mutual.

The bar is still bitingly cold, but as the lights dim in preparation for the show, it thrums with impatience. The whole room is muted, waiting to be brought to life. Even Aja fades a little as the stage lights come on.

Sasha’s thoughts are interrupted by the unmistakeable sound of heels against hardwood and the shuffle of people backstage. Moments later, God arrives. Or, at the very least, a demigod among mortals.

Tall, toned, long hair and longer legs - in walks a woman who screams elegance, but whispers meet me out back if you’ve got a problem with it. Sasha’s a goner at her first word.

“To everyone who hasn’t been here before, I am Shea Couleé, and I’m here to talk about everything your mama warned you not to mention at thanksgiving dinner,” the woman, Shea, says with a wink and a devilish grin.

Sasha watches intently as Shea goes through her introduction, enthralled by the way she takes a concept and turns it into a symphony. She isn’t concise; she doesn’t need to be. Shea uses too many words to describe simple things, ambles through her speech without much regard to brevity. To capture Sasha’s attention is easy, but to hold it proven near impossible, and Shea held her attention far longer than acceptable. Sasha wants to understand the way her brain works, with her too-many words and too-few things to say.

Sasha is acutely aware that she is staring. Intently. She is also suddenly aware that Shea is staring back. Fuck.

———-

Shea isn’t planning on performing any of her better pieces tonight, not particularly proud of anything on her docket, but they were all presentable. Tonight, hosting and performing, she doesn’t feel the need to waste one of her newer perfections. One of her older pieces will do.

She opens the show with one of their regulars, Farrah, who has potential but a lot of improving to do. Farrah’s barely old enough to get into the bar, never mind drink. However, her bubblegum pink feminism appeals to the disenfranchised youth of the room, making her a favorite.

Shea scans the audience, searching for familiar faces before spotting Aja. Before spotting the woman next to Aja.

Shea sees her, and it’s like looking through a fish-eye lens. The room - no, the whole world curves around her, making a halo of frizzy hair and glittering lips the center of Shea’s attention. Her aesthetic says revolution, but her expression says I never stop thinking. It’s utterly intoxicating. Shea wants her.

She’s looking right at Shea, like maybe she wants Shea right back.

Shea isn’t even on stage any more, she’s off to the side, watching the crowd react to Farrah’s prose. She isn’t supposed to be the focal point, but this woman doesn’t seem to realize, nor care. She wouldn’t look away. Neither could Shea.

People had looked at Shea like she was the only person on Earth before. People had looked at Shea like she held the world under her tongue before. Hell, people had even made Shea feel both of those were undeniable truths of the universe before.

Not like this woman, though. Never so without inhibition, such totality, before they’d so much as shared words.

Shea doesn’t even know her name. Shea needs to know her name.

Pulling out her phone, Shea quickly begins typing up a messy, practically incoherent mush of words and stanzas. She motions to a member of the staff, whispering she needs to be moved to the closing spot. She doesn’t even look up as he nods, doesn’t watch as he rearranges the schedule. The entire time, Shea feels the woman’s eyes on her.

When Shea finally looks up, finding the woman watching the stage intently, her stomach twists with jealousy. She knows it’s ridiculous to expect a woman at a poetry night to not watch the performers, but she misses the rush of feeling like the only important person in the room.

Shea Couleé does not believe in love at first sight, but goddamn if this woman doesn’t make her want to.

Shea wants to know her; wants to know how she likes her coffee, if she gets cold easily, or has a bad immune system, or if she looks at everyone with the same electricity in her eyes.

It’s annoying as fuck.

In between introducing acts, Shea types. She can’t let this woman leave without making an impression. When it’s her turn at the mic, Shea takes a deep breath, reviewing her work one last time before stepping into her usual strut.

She doesn’t bother introducing herself, just turns to the mic and began speaking, letting the words wash over the crowd like rain on their childhood bedroom’s roof.

“Electric. You Are Electric.

Who gave you the right To look at me like I’m everything, When I don’t even know your name?

Let me feel your skin under my fingertips. Baby, Let me feel the buzzing of your veins under my tongue.

Show me who you are. Electricity - Tell me your name,”

Shea doesn’t look away from the woman’s face. She keeps her eyes trained on her, spoke as though she’s whispering into the woman’s neck instead of performing for an entire room of faceless people. Shea makes what she wants clear in 53 words, 14 lines, four stanzas, and prolonged eye contact. Now, all that remains undecided is whether or not the stranger would reciprocate.

She knows all of this could go drastically wrong; the woman could turn her down, run from the weight of Shea’s attention as quickly as anyone else had, but she hasn’t broken their gaze yet. Shea takes that as a good sign.

———–

Sasha isn’t breathing. How could she, with Shea staring her down like that, like she’s real, and not just a consciousness tethered to physical form. Shea makes her real. Too many people surround them, suffocating her. All those eyes on Shea, none of them important. Shea’s eyes on her, all important.

So Sasha does what Sasha does best - she takes a step back. And then about ten more. Before she knows it, she’s on the street outside the club, breathing in the autumn air like she’s never tasted anything as sweet, and never would. She leaves with the knowledge that, hopefully, Shea will understand.

———–

After the night officially ends, Shea finds herself searching for the woman. Her heart feels heavier with each passing person, each exclamation of joy at seeing her performing again, after all this time. She begins to lose hope, starts to believe, maybe, it’s all in her head. It wouldn’t be the first time Shea’d convinced herself she meant more than she does.

Aja abruptly, as the woman tends to do, enters Shea’s space, pulling her aside in a whirlwind of neon.

“What does you think of my friend?” She asks, wondering how she ended up back in 4th grade, passing along messages between blushing children. She must’ve done something truly terrible in a past life to deserve this.

Shea is stunned silent for a moment, recovering almost immediately. “The blonde? I mean, yeah, I noticed her. Who wouldn’t notice her, I mean she’s…beautiful,” she says.

To an outsider, Shea would seem casually interested. Her tone is carefully regulated, voice barely wavering. She doesn’t stumble over a single syllable. Aja, unfortunately for Shea, knows better.

“Shea Couleé, there were fifty people in this building,” Shea winces, “and you remembered her well enough to react like that?” Aja finishes, hand on her hip, her mouth pulled into a smile.

“Shut up, bitch,” Shea responds, only fueling Aja’s twisted delight further.

“Here, she wants me to tell you that her name is Sasha, and she’ll be back next week,” Aja hands Shea a piece of paper, leaving almost immediately after in the same whirl of color she came.

Shea looks down at the paper, finding a rushed message, untidy but legible:

Sorry for running out on you, got a bit too loud for me in there. Hope you can forgive me ;)

-Sasha

Okay, then. Shea thinks.

Okay, Sasha.

#sashea #melon #au #lesbian au #sasha velour #shea coulee #aja #rpdr fanfiction #samson and delilah

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adonisstyles · 8 years ago

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“There’s the confident woman I married.”

A/N: This is a blurb I wrote for @psicostyles. Based on this gif set. I have not done a whole lot of this type of thing before so cut me some slack. That being said, constructive criticism is appreciated.

Normally these things didn’t make you nervous. You were a consummate pro when it came to late night interviews. You could coyly deflect the most personal of questions. When your publicist booked this appearance months ago she failed to mention it would be your husband Harry who would be interviewing you.

You sat in your dressing room waiting on your cue to open the door and smile charmingly, hiding your nerves. The mic in your ear piped in Harry’s voice.

“And finally in the purple room, we have on of the most beautiful, insanely talented actress ever. Yeah she’s gorgeous but sadly she’s already married, so that’s a shame for everybody… except me. She’s here to promote her new movie, already an Oscar winner and nominated for her second… My wife and the love of my life (Y/N) Styles, better known to you as (Y/F/N)(Y/L/N).”

With that you opened the door with a smile and a wave.

“You look lovely tonight, m’dear,”Harry’s voice piped in.

“Thanks, you’re obligated to say that though,” you tried pass the compliment.

“Stunning, truly stunning. I’ll just stare at you through the whole interview,” he commented.

“Sadly, they’re telling me we have to go to a commercial break. We’ll be right back!”

You went to close the door after being signaled that the segment had ended. At the last possible minute a shoe stops your progress. You look up and find Harry arriving at your door.You wanted to wipe that cheeky smile off his face. He knew he’d bested you by complimenting you on-air. Your face flushes immediately and let him in.

He steps inside and leans in silently requesting a peck.

“That was a tidge mean, don’cha think?” Her Minnesotan accent creeping out now that she was flustered. “I’m nervous enough as it is!” She wound her arms around his waist and nestled into his chest, hoping his protective instinct might kick in.

“Love, you’ve won an Oscar already and are nominated for another. What’ve you got to be nervous about?” Ahah, so that’s how he wanted to play this.

“You’re right, two can play at that game,” she whispered, leaning up to tug his earlobe with her teeth.

An aid stepped in to tell you there was one minute til air which was Harry’s cue to leave. He pecked you quickly again and sent a coy wink your way. As you cued up your entrance behind the curtain you once again hear Harry’s voice piped in your ear, “We have tonight a wonderfully talented actress. My wife, Y/N!”

The curtains parted and you walked through. You smiled, waved and high five-ed fans as you approached the desk.

You gave one final wave to the audience before sitting down. You carefully arranged your dress and leaned an elbow on the desk to best display the neckline and cleavage of your dress. Harry looked down and immediately saw what you were doing. The tiniest of smirks and eyebrow quirks graced his features. The interview itself was a blur.

You played coy and confident. You traced your fingertips across your neck and collarbone, casually. You flirted with your husband and unleashed your charm on the crowd. All too soon the interview was over.

You and Harry exited the stage. Once out of view he was pushing you from behind towards your dressing room. He closed the door behind you and pressed himself to your back. He leaned down and whispered in your ear.

“There’s the confident woman I married.”

#writing #harry styles #harrystyles #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #solo harry #hs1

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ruffsficstuffplace · 8 years ago

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The Keeper of the Grove (Part 21)

There was nothing more Jacques Schnee would have loved to do than to rip into the entirety of the AAF, call them out as the incompetent, overconfident, poorly prepared fools they really were.

First they haul away his eldest like she were a dangerous, unstable criminal. Next, they hold him and his one remaining child prisoner in their own home, and not only did they completely fail at stopping the invader that had been terrorizing them constantly, they managed to completely destroy Weiss’ room and leave a permanent scar on the face of a grand masterpiece of architecture that should have lasted till the end of time. And to top off the ever-escalating series of blunders and PR disasters that plagued him, Weiss had been kidnapped, too, and no one had a damn clue who had done it, how they had apparently managed to solve the problem of human teleportation when Candela’s brightest minds were estimating “significant progress within the next few centuries” at the most ideal, or how they were going to track them down.

Unfortunately, business required no shortage of compromise, of keeping ugly and rickety bridges standing, of sacrificing the fleeting pleasures of the now for the greater, lasting rewards of the future.

“… Rest assured, the AAF will find out who these kidnappers are, rescue Ms. Schnee, and stop them from ever doing so despicable a crime as this ever again,” the AAF’s current camera-friendly General was saying.

Camera drones flashed and zoomed about, trying to get the best shots within their prescribed fly-zones. Journalists took notes and began to refine the questions that they had ready long before they even got word of the event. Jacques continued to look morose and somber, rather than the burning, explosive fury he actually felt.

There were times when his temper was to be unleashed, and this was not one of them.

“We now open the floor to questions,” one of his many PR spokespeople said.

Reporters all shouted and physically fought each other, as if a selection system hadn’t been instated for the sake of sanity; old habits truly died hard.

It the draw fell on the Avalon News Network. “Mr. Schnee! Mr. Schnee!” their reporter cried out. “Should these terrorists contact you to attempt to arrange for your daughter’s release, will you negotiate with them?”

Jacques put his hand to his face, to hide the way his face always contorted whenever he was told that someone was threatening him into action. The moment passed, he calmly put his mouth to the microphone, and said:

“As my predecessor Nicholas Schnee has always done, I will not bow to anyone who thinks that force is the way to get what you want. Then, now, and forever, the Schnee Power Company and I myself do not negotiate with terrorists.”

And with those tempting words, Fate could no longer resist.

All over Avalon, the feed broke and flickered until a new image appeared on HoloVision screens, comm-crystal projections, and the surfaces of tablets everywhere:

The Keeper of the Grove.

Panic washed over the crowded auditorium, and all over Avalon. “I’ll believe her when I see her,” was a common saying in Candela, and that moment, the whole city became believers.

“Hello, Jacques,” the Keeper said. “You’re a stubborn, stubborn man, aren’t you? You just don’t know when to quit, just like when you had that drilling operation in Sekhmet.”

Jacques gritted his teeth.

“The locals warned you. Your own experts told you there was something very unusual about the core you were trying to reach, that you should have postponed the excavation until they knew more. Even your own family could feel that trouble was coming, but of course, you know best, don’t you, Jacques…~?

“So you kept drilling, and drilling, and drilling, until you finally reached paydirt, and we all found out just what was down there.

“And it only cost tens of thousands of lives, two of them your own wife and your unborn son—I do so hope he’s been reborn to a much better father than you ever were.”

Jacques looked back to the IT teams and AAF cybersecurity crews on the side. Faces were hunched over devices, but it didn't look like any of them were tracking the signal down soon. One of them motioned for him to keep talking.

Jacques he turned back to the mic. “What do you want…?” he asked, trying to keep his voice level.

“You should have died in that outbreak, Jacques. You should have just left your lovely family at home, but no—you insisted that you all be there, for your newest, biggest breakthrough, like a family. Though the pictures that did get published, the articles they made weren’t exactly what you wanted...”

Jacques gritted his teeth. “I'll ask you again: what do you want?”

“I want you to stop going into the Viridian Valley, Jacques. I was in a good mood that night of your first little expedition—even thought I might spare your daughter and her guards, shake things up a little! Apparently murdering every trespasser that comes through can get boring…

“… But now, thanks to you—yes, you, you power-hungry egomaniac—I’ve changed my mind.”

Back in the studio, the camera zoomed out, to show Ruby putting the blade of her prop scythe up to Weiss' neck.

“You’ve already lost wife, your unborn son, your eldest daughter—all because your silly little ego was more important than their lives. Shall we add your second born to to the list? I’ll give you some time to think it over...”

“You’re bluffing!” Jacques yelled.

The Keeper giggled. She pulled the scythe away from Weiss, “slashed” the inside of her arm. She showed off the “wound” to the camera, let it stay there for a good while, letting everyone see the “blood” pouring down from it.

“I assure you, Jacques, I am very, very, very serious. Do you think I won’t do it? Think of it, Jacques—you’re a smart man who’s always right, and never wrong, aren’t you? What do we have to lose if we kill our one and only hostage, hmm?”

She put the scythe back to Weiss neck, she whimpered.

“You don’t know who we are. You don’t know where we are. But you do know that if you don't stop, there’s no stopping us from doing this all over again either—hope your senior staff have told their families they loved them recently!”

Jacques slammed his fists on the table. “YOU MONSTER!”

The Keeper giggled. “Funny: who's the one who keeps sacrificing other people’s lives for all that power you seek? Whose blood keeps the lights on in your cities? Whose corpses did you build that empire of yours over?

“It’s just two words, Jacques:

“I. Surrender.

“See? Simple. Why don’t you try it with me?”

“Fuck you!”

The Keeper giggled. “Wrong answer.”

Ruby gently tilted the scythe closer to Weiss neck, she grabbed the handle and the weapon began to shake from their “struggle.”

“Father! Please! Just do it!” she screamed.

Jacques stared at the screen, shaking and trembling with fury.

“Say it with me now: ‘I surrender.’”

“What do you want?! Money?! Technology?! Land?!”

The Keeper shook her head. “That’s not how you say ‘I surrender,’ Jacques. And Nivian is my second language! For shame.”

“He surrenders! He surrenders!” yelled one of the PR reps Jacques had brought.

“Doesn’t count if it’s not him, sorry,” the Keeper hummed. “One last chance, Jacques. Come on now, I know you can do it! Say it:

“I surrender.”

The crowd was in a panicked frenzy now, people were shouting into their HV receivers, their comm-crystals, their tablets, if they hadn’t already stopped watching, anticipated the worst.

And still, Jacques remained silent.

Weiss pulled the prop scythe across her neck, breaking a neat, clean line over the bleeder bandage.

Ruby dropped it in surprise. Weiss stared at the screen with eyes full of betrayal and hurt, keeping herself on camera for a few moments, letting them watch the “blood” run down from her neck, before she let herself fall to the side.

It was so quiet in the auditorium everyone heard the sound of her head hitting the floor.

Ruby stared at the camera, frozen. With the mask on, she betrayed no emotion, looked like she was just silently staring at the audience.

Glynda cut the feed.

The face of the Keeper disappeared, replaced with the stunned face of Jacques Schnee.

An aide carefully reached out to him. “Sir…?”

“I’LL KILL THEM!” Jacques roared.

Guards rushed to calm him down, he struck one across the face so hard they dropped to the floor. The other tackled him to the table.

“I’LL KILL THEM ALL AND BURN THAT FORSAKEN VALLEY TO THE GROUND…!” Jacques roared, his voice echoing through the microphones and all of Avalon before he was hauled away.

Back at the Valley, Ruby tore off her mask, knelt down, and picked Weiss up from the floor. “Oh, crap—Weiss, are you okay? You didn’t hit your head too hard, did you? These wood floors are really--”

She stopped as she noticed the tears welling up in her eyes.

Ruby frowned. “Weiss…?”

She lunged forward, buried her face in Ruby’s shoulder, wrapping her arms around her as tightly as she could before she began to cry.

Ruby slowly, gingerly hugged her back.

Glynda began to quietly usher everyone else out.

#rwby #white rose #fanfic #the keeper of the grove

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marisaaperez · 8 years ago

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A Date With Vince Staples

Perhaps the biggest fear with a blind date is that you don’t know what to expect. It could easily be pitiful and something to regret or it could be a magical experience, one that leaves me saying “damn, he’s something special” by the end of the date.

I was always an optimist, so the 50/50 chance of searching for an exit door or not was worth the shot.

Now I know that the beauty of a blind date is that you know absolutely nothing about the other person, but I couldn’t fathom not knowing anything.

So what did I know?

His name is Vince Staples.

He is from Long Beach, California.

Occupation, rapper. It was his show I was going to after all.

I made it a priority to listen to some of his songs prior to attending the concert. I wanted to get a feel for his sound, his content and his vibe. His most known tracks “Norf Norf” and “Blue Suede” were enough to entice my interest in seeing him live, when in actuality, I knew very little about the Long Beach rapper.

Usually I’m late, to everything. But for this show I made sure that I was one of the first in line. To much of my surprise my experience began with a movie. “The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou” was the movie. It was on mute. And on rewind. Peculiar, but not so strange to turn me away. When the movie came to its end, or beginning...the crowd welcomed the opening act Kilo Kish.

Kish was magnetic. Her broadway-inspired approach to her performance was engaging; her pleas to the crowd, haunting vocals and bursts of mania were anxiety inducing, but that was the point. Kish’s goal was to comment on society’s tranquilization of the trivial, and luckily for her, that message was received.

Staples then took the stage in a black hoodie, black pants, and a pair of classic black-and-white Converse. Casual and simple, I liked that.

And then it started, Staples came out hauntingly rapping “Lift Me Up” a song that electrified the audience moshing below his feet. Staples dominates on stage. He not only raps well live, but he performs well, extremely well. It isn’t the grandiose performance of a pop icon with multiple costume changes and rehearsed choreography, it is him and his music. Vince Staples makes sure that he is not the center of attention. With light beams sprinkled amongst the crowd and images of police sirens displayed on the stage’s screens, Staples’ aims to bring the audience into his world, into his mind. The connection he has to his art is apparent on stage - when the beat drops, so does his body, so does the crowd. But at any moment, he can stun you and make your jaw drop. I experienced this sensation during his performance of “Blue Suede.” This heavy-hitting single in known for is explosiveness, and when the initial beat dropped and the crowd went berserk, there was Vince, standing completely still. Polarizing.

What was even more magnetic was his last performance of the night, “Summertime.” It is this moment when the entire venue was silent, unmoved, and focused on the same person. As bodies swayed and heads bobbed Vince solemnly sung into the mic that “this could be forever baby…”

#vince staples #music #terminal5 #live #concert #rap

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floraexplorer · 5 years ago

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Discover A World of Stories at Edinburgh’s Storytelling Festival

It was a chilly autumn morning in Edinburgh, and I was late for the Storytelling Festival.

I wove my way past groups of tourists along the Royal Mile until I reached a slightly crooked corner building – painted white on one side, bare brick on the other. I rushed up the stairs of the Scottish Storytelling Centre and suddenly stood inside a warm cafe, where my glasses steamed up immediately.

I looked around and spotted a white-haired man with eagles outlined on his shirt: Robert Seven Crows Bourdon, the man I was supposed to meet. Robert, a singer, songwriter and professional storyteller hailing from Quebec, was my first introduction to the reason for me being in Edinburgh.

We were both there for the Scottish International Storytelling Festival – otherwise known as the best festival I’ve never heard of.

Wait – there’s a Storytelling Centre in Edinburgh?

You’d be forgiven for not noticing the Scottish Storytelling Centre at first glance – it blends seamlessly into the other historical buildings along the Royal Mile. But for me (and for any other story-obsessed folk), this place is a dream location.

The Scottish Storytelling Centre is an arts venue designed specifically to preserve and celebrate live oral storytelling. It’s the first place in the world to do this – and probably just one of a handful of similar centres worldwide.

Throughout the year, the centre holds numerous events – everything from spoken word performances and open mic nights to workshops and exhibitions – but each October it becomes an international hub as storytellers from all over the world flock to the Scottish International Storytelling Festival.

So what is the Scottish International Storytelling Festival?

The Scottish International Storytelling Festival began in 1989 with the intention of bringing storytellers together to share oral histories and traditions. It’s been running for the last three decades, and celebrated its 31st iteration this year.

More than sixty events take place over the twelve day festival, and although the majority are held at the Storytelling Centre, there’s also associated talks and exhibitions scattered throughout Edinburgh too.

The theme of this year’s 2019 festival was ‘Beyond Words’, which showcased how music, dance and song all share their own stories. It also focused specifically on storytellers from First Nation Canada: something of a coincidence, seeing as I’d just spent a fortnight in Atlantic Canada with First Nation Mi’kmaq people learning about their traditions.

It also meant I was fascinated to know more about how Robert’s First Nation ancestry influences his storytelling.

Read more: a fortnight spent exploring Atlantic Canada

“Storytelling performances are a big trend now,” Robert told me. He said that oral storytelling is becoming more like theatre, where the focus is on the ‘show’ instead of the rapport between speaker and listener.

At a festival, everyone’s sitting and waiting with bated breath, but the tradition he comes from treats storytelling as something effortless. Nobody has stage fright; nobody’s afraid to disappoint.

“In our world there’s dogs running around, there’s kids jumping over you, the elders are talking…It’s not a performance. I invite you into my world — but I’m not saying you must listen to me. The storyteller’s job is not to be listened to. His job is to tell.”

Over the next hour, we talked about the other storytelling festivals he’s performed at (and there are many – Robert’s been telling stories professionally for twenty years). I’ve been to a few literary festivals – the most memorable being Hay Book Festival in Wales and Gibraltar’s annual Literary Festival – but Edinburgh’s Storytelling Festival is the first I’ve heard of which explores the relationship between a storyteller and their audience.

Before I’d even attended a performance, Robert’s words were making me understand just how significant this festival was.

Read more: Sailing to the Arctic in pursuit of storytelling

Exploring Edinburgh’s literary side

The skies were still bright blue outside on the Royal Mile. I had a few hours before attending my first performance of the storytelling festival, so I decided to visit a few of the more famous literary landmarks in the city.

Edinburgh’s fame as a literary destination is unparalleled. It was deemed the world’s first UNESCO City of Literature in 2004; it holds the largest literary festival in the world; and it’s regarded by millions as the modern-day home of schoolboy magic, thanks to J.K. Rowling’s regular writing sessions in an Edinburgh cafe.

It feels like you can’t take more than a few steps through Edinburgh without passing a second-hand bookshop, a location featured in a novel, or posters like these plastered all over the bricks.

My self-guided literary tour of Edinburgh began at The Writers Museum where three of Scotland’s most famous writers are celebrated: Robert Burns, Walter Scott and Robert Louis Stevenson.

Once I’d climbed up a winding red staircase in a narrow tower at Makar’s Court, I found glass cabinets filled with their childhood toys, dusty clothes, tobacco pipes, chess sets and locks of their hair.

At the National Library of Scotland, I wandered through an exhibit on how Scottish people have changed the world – and then spent ages in front of a glass cabinet filled with paper sculptures from old books.

These stunning artworks mysteriously appeared one night in 2011, left by an anonymous female sculptor in various cultural locations around Edinburgh. More sculptures were revealed over the next five years – but although the project has now come to a close, the artist’s identity still remains a secret.

I even made a quick stop at Deacon Brodie’s Tavern, the namesake of which served as the inspiration for ‘The Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde‘.

A furniture maker and city councillor by day but a thief by night, the errant Deacon Brodie swung from the gallows in 1788. Some of his furniture made its way to a young Robert Louis Stevenson’s family: the burgeoning author became fascinated with Brodie’s double life, eventually incorporating the character into one of his most well-known novels.

By the time the sun had set, it was time to venture back to the Storytelling Centre for my first festival performance.

Inside the Scottish Storytelling Centre

A crowd of excited attendees were already milling around the Storytelling Court when I stepped inside. I headed for the ‘interactive storytelling wall’ – a long row of cabinet doors containing tiny, perfect models of famous stories, legends and folk tales.

After opening a few, I found a scene depicting Flora MacDonald helping Bonnie Prince Charlie escape to the Isle of Skye. She’s one of the famous Floras I was named after, and I couldn’t help but smile!

Just then the theatre doors were opened so I headed downstairs to the Netherbow Theatre, a small auditorium with just 99 seats, to watch as the Dancers of Damelahamid appeared onstage.

An Indigenous dance company from the northwest coast of British Columbia, they draw inspiration from their origin stories and use masks to retell traditional narratives of their ancestors. I had no idea what to expect, but from the moment their performance began I was utterly enthralled.

Their movements were quiet. Almost silent. Clean and precise, their feet tapping as they stepped back and forth to a drum beat. They uttered no words and were fully absorbed in their dance; becoming birds with beaks, then shaking wooden rain sticks and gripping animal hooves in their hands. Then suddenly:

“IT’S A SHARK!!”

A young child’s gleeful voice rang out from behind me. I felt the audience twitch and stiffen: my immediate reaction was one of annoyance, and I began mentally preparing for the constant threat of disturbance.

But that’s when Robert’s words came back to me: “Storytelling isn’t supposed to be silent or one-sided!” For him, any moment of storytelling will involve possible noise and outside activity and distraction.

And in that moment, I realised I’d been looking at this festival all wrong.

So often I think about storytelling as being something static – something to be read either on the page or a device’s screen. But in fact it’s so important to remember the live aspect of storytelling. The relationship between an oral storyteller and their audience has such power because it’s so subject to changes in timing, volume, even the dynamic between the people involved.

But everything – even a child’s excitable reactions – are simply part of the overall experience.

A spooky storytelling marathon for Halloween

The next day was the last of the storytelling festival, which also coincided with Halloween. I spent the majority of my day at the centre where a steady stream of impromptu storytellers stood (or sat) to share their words.

Just like Robert had said, the beauty of this event was in the interactive aspect. I watched a dozen different people take centre stage: a girl from Poland, an elderly Irish man, a Belgian woman, a guy in a full Scottish kilt outfit, all of whom told spooky stories.

Every time I thought of leaving, a new character appeared on stage and I couldn’t go – particularly when a group of older Scottish gentlemen arrived. They clearly spend a lot of time at the centre: there was an easy camaraderie between them borne of years in each others company, and their enjoyment of each others’ stories was infectious.

Celebrating a different kind of story at Samhuinn Fire Festival

Later that night, I wrapped myself in all the clothes I’d brought with me and trudged up Calton Hill to a side of Edinburgh which seemed lifted from the pages of a folk tale.

That’s because Halloween is celebrated differently in Scotland. October 31st is the night of Samhuinn, an ancient pagan festival which welcomes the thinning of the veil between two worlds. And each year, the Beltane Fire Society hold a festival to celebrate Samhuinn tradition with immersive performance, drumming, acrobatics and fire.

Read more: celebrating Samhuinn Fire Festival in Edinburgh

The value of storytelling

As I stood amongst the crowds and watched a grinning group of costumed characters dance and spin their way across the hilltop, I thought about how many ways there truly are to tell a story. It doesn’t prescribe to any one medium: it can be dancing or singing, drumming or speaking, full of sound or completely silent.

It’s about the rhythms they choose to use: cadence, words, the lilt of their voice. It’s about the place they decide to perform: sitting amongst their audience or standing on a stage or weaving their way through a small, tight crowd.

There is always a place for stories, and for storytellers – and in Edinburgh there’s a literal building for it. I’d never heard of Edinburgh’s Storytelling Centre before this visit, but I’m so thankful I know about its existence now. Creating a real, physical space for storytellers to gather together – not to mention hosting a festival which celebrating those gatherings, and opens them up for others – is something pretty special in my book.

Pin this article if you enjoyed it!

NB: This trip was in paid partnership with Edinburgh Festivals, who kindly invited me to the Scottish International Storytelling Festival so I could wax lyrical about stories for a weekend.

The post Discover A World of Stories at Edinburgh’s Storytelling Festival appeared first on Flora The Explorer.

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themusicenthusiast · 7 years ago

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Friday, March 9th, 2018 – At a Sold-out Dallas Show, a Flawless Dorothy Entertains Fans with a Barrage of New Material and Plenty of Fan Favorites

Dorothy fans had turned out en masse at the Cambridge Room at House of Blues. In fact, this penultimate show of the Freedom Tour sold out weeks in advance, an impressive feat for an artist that is still relatively unknown to the general music fan; and it speaks volumes about the impressions that Dorothy had made during their previous ventures to Dallas. This latest one was happening one week prior to the release of their second studio album, 28 Days In The Valley (set for release on March 16th and out on Roc Nation Records), making the Freedom Tour the perfect time to start introducing fans to the new material that they have been working on. The D-FW area fans would wind up experiencing a little more than half the record live on this night. Holly West was tapped to open the show, the local trio comprised of top tier musicians of the local North Texas music scene succeeding at their job of warming up the crowd. They gave it their all, the packed house responding well to the mix of covers and originals that they did, West and company seeming to earn themselves at least a few new fans this night. During the show she also cited Dorothy as being a big influence on her new EP, Mokita, noting how awesome it was to be sharing the stage with her. The concertgoers enjoyed them, though there was still no doubting that they were there for Dorothy. From hats to shirts and hoodies, many of the spectators were decked out in Dorothy gear, and they were getting antsy as they finished waiting for the woman of the hour and her band mates to take the stage.

That finally happened at 10:24, the applause that greeted musicians Jason Ganberg, Eliot Lorango, Eli Wulfmeier and Nick Maybury soon turning to screams of adoration as Dorothy Martin strode onto the stage. With her back turned to the audience, she proceeded to light some incense, briefly letting it burn before extinguishing the flame. “What the fuck is up, Dallas?!?” she asked as they tore right into the first of many new offerings, “White Butterfly”. Easily one of the most appealing factors of Dorothy’s music is the way that it echoes back to a bygone era, just unadulterated rock ‘n’ roll sans the unnecessary frills that people have become accustomed to in the modern era. That’s something that’s a hallmark of their sound in general, though “White Butterfly” exemplified that well, being vibrant and fun as the quintet began working their magic; Martin kneeling at the edge of the stage at one point, interacting with some of the fans. As the band seamlessly bridged it into their next number she appeared to bask in the moment, relishing it, before gripping the mic stand and softly smiling at the spectators. “Dallas, are you ready to party?!” she asked; smoke from the smoke machines beginning to billow outwards from the stage. That question was met with plenty of fanfare, the crowd growing even more ecstatic upon realizing the gritty “Raise Hell” was next. They were eager to sing along and that cut from 2016’s ROCKISDEAD was ideal for that; said fan participation further exhilarating the musicians, all of whom looked to be having a blast as they knocked that one out. Following it was “Naked Eye”, and that was where they hit their stride for this 56-minute long set. It was the song where they became utterly transfixing, demanding the full attention of every soul in attendance. It fully demonstrated the prowess that Wulfmeier, Maybury, Ganberg and Lorango had over their instruments (guitars, drums and bass, respectively), while also allowing Martin to dig deeper than on any other song up to that point as she demonstrated the full might of her set of pipes. It was impossible to not be in awe over the powerful and semi soulful way she belted out the lyrics, being in complete command as Dorothy solidified their hold over everyone. A mixture of old and new songs followed, “Pretty When You're High” being one that fit into the latter category. It’s sure to become a highlight from 28 Days In The Valley, though the best moment of it came at the end, an extra touch added for the live rendition. Martin demonstrated the gorgeous lushness of her voice, adding a sort of outro by singing parts of the refrain nearly a capella, somehow managing to further stun the audience. Shortly after she ceded the stage to her band mates, the instrumentalists laying down a riveting piece that shone a brighter light on their abilities. They certainly weren’t restrained at any point during the night, various solos or riffs that captivated the audience’s attention being a constant, while the rhythm section maintained a tight groove that was paramount to the swagger every track possessed. Their chemistry as a unit was palpable, though it was all different during those couple of minutes. All of that was magnified, their personas growing more authoritative as they cut loose. That piece left them more energized then ever; the steadfast beat from the kick drum that Ganberg was producing being perfect to clap along with, and almost instinctively, the crowd began to do just that. Something the band encouraged, especially Martin once she stepped back out onto the stage, even joining in. That seemed to make “Wicked Ones” all the more electrifying, the audience again chiming in, enthusiastically singing along and even raising their hands in the air and showing off their horns at the behest of Martin. The remainder of the show consisted of more rousing new numbers, some of which had been released as singles, while others the fans got to experience for the first time. Thus far Martin had simultaneously kept the banter to a minimum yet also managed to make it feel genuine and off the cuff when she did chat with everyone. However, her most personal address was an impassioned speech that preceded “Ain’t Our Time To Die”. “Do you know what time it is?!” she asked, soon stating that it was “time to wake up!” “Not, like, literally wake up and get out of bed…” she added, chuckling, pointing out that she was referring to people truly opening their eyes to their surroundings and the happenings in the world. “…There are so many things outside our normal realm of consciousness…” she stressed, growing more urgent and impassioned as she continued. She touched on how everything in the world has a “frequency and vibration”; kindly asking one fan to, at least for a brief moment, put their phone away, outright saying those devices are designed to control people. She also focused on forms of the media, specifically how there is a certain standard of beauty that is pushed and how detrimental that is to everyone who starts to believe it, and how instead everyone needs to embrace who they are. “Why don’t they show puppies?!” she asked when commenting on how negative the news always is, a happy story near impossible to come by; and while she did add that “School is good. Stay in school,” she even spoke on college, getting at how it can feel forced onto some, viewed by society as being imperative to one’s life, when actually that can’t be considered a universal approach for everyone. “Life is about freedom and love,” she boldly declared as she finished her remarks that were aimed at getting everyone to consider a new perspective. “And this is our time to live!” That whole speech provided a clearer context for the fiery “Ain’t Our Time To Die”, which would stand as a highlight of their performance. Executed with vigor and backed by as much feeling as they could muster, the band made that song feel like more of a rallying cry, one imploring the younger generations to implement reform in the various aspects of the world. Once more Martin showed off the broader range of her voice, tacking on an a cappella end to that song as well. In a gripping, soulful tone that was steeped in a reverb effect she crooned a new refrain: “It’s our time to live.” That end flowed brilliantly into “Flawless”, those two songs making an exceptional pairing; the recorded version of that anthem of empowerment and self-worth being incredible, but live it was utterly astounding, Martin and her band mates managing to put the spectators in a deeper state of awe. Some fans already knew the words by heart, and the fanfare they showered the band with once it was completed was deafening. Apparently getting caught up in the moment, the group went right on to what was a blistering final number, Martin confessing afterwards that she had forgotten to mention that would be it for the night, thanking everyone for coming out as they took their leave. No one was having it, though. They wanted more, and after a minute or so Martin, Ganberg, Lorango, Wulfmeier and Maybury came back out, happy to oblige. They drew from ROCKISDEAD for their two-song encore, with “Whiskey Fever” capping their set off in a stellar fashion. That seemed to be THE song that everyone had anxiously been waiting for, and they were elated to finally hear it, singing along at the top of their lungs. At the tail end Martin stepped off the stage and into the pit area that separated the fans and the stage, hugging a few people before turning around and facing the stage, holding up her hands as she rocked out with the music. As that 12-minute long encore concluded, the frontwoman took a gracious bow, silently thanking the patrons one last time for their undying support and being there on that Friday night. Here at the back end of a three plus week stint on the road they were still abounding with vim and vigor, all that touring allowing them to hone the performance of this mix of songs and make it the best that it could possibly be. The result was that it all appeared to be second nature to them, the new cuts feeling more like longtime staples as the five-piece rock outfit effortlessly delivered a spellbinding performance that was built around the power of music. Power in the sense of the hard-hitting force that defines Dorothy’s brand of rock to the power that music can have in affecting people on an emotional level, the show and the music even feeling spiritual in a way. This was a concert experience that gave those in attendance hope regarding the future of rock ‘n’ roll. Granted, the genre has never gone away, but Dorothy’s show proved that rock music is alive and well and still as primal and gritty as ever. Best of all, it acted as a testament to the genre, the spectators able to completely surrender to the music and the marvelous display that was playing out before them, losing themselves in the moment. Their newest material is their strongest yet, expanding upon the foundation they established with their debut LP; and there’s no arguing that Martin wields one of the most impressive and striking voices of any singer currently in the business. Her talents and those of the band as a whole are best appreciated in the live setting; and while I had high expectations going into this, my first Dorothy concert, they wound up not merely meeting but surpassing them. A act that seems destined for stardom and possesses all the raw talent necessary to make it happen, you can expect to hear much more from Dorothy in 2018. With 28 Days In The Valley soon to be released and in need of promoting there should be plenty more tours to come. In the meantime, they have some gigs planned at SXSW in Austin, TX; a show at BB&T Pavilion in Camden, NJ on May 19th alongside Alice In Chains and others; and they’ll be performing at Arroyo Seco Weekend 2018 on June 24th in Pasadena, California. More info on their upcoming shows can be found HERE. Also, be sure to pre-order 28 Days In The Valley on iTUNES or GOOGLE PLAY, as well as Dorothy’s ONLINE STORE for those interested in bundle packages and/or autographed copies of the record. Set List: 1) “White Butterfly” 2) “Raise Hell” 3) “Naked Eye” 4) “After Midnight” 5) “Pretty When You're High” 6) “Philadelphia” 7) Instrumental Jam 8) “Wicked Ones” 9) “Who Do You Love” 10) “Black Tar & Nicotine” 11) “Ain’t Our Time To Die” 12) “Flawless” 13) “Down to the Bottom” Encore 14) “Dark Nights” 15) “Whiskey Fever”

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