#WHEN I SAW WICKED WITH THEATER KIDS IN HIGH SCHOOL | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

elsanna-shenanigans · 3 years ago

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April Contest Submission #20: Terrible Things

Words: ca. 8,000 Setting: mAU high school Lemon: no Content: violence, blood, past trauma Song: Terrible Things by The Hard Aches

===

She arrived like any other foster kid. Timid and uncertain. Stepping out into the unknown with everything she owned in a garbage bag slung over her shoulder. Rain poured like tears from the heavens, muting the sounds of traffic, creating the illusion that the world was momentarily empty. Under the dark, thundering sky, she didn’t flinch as her white-blonde hair soaked up the rain, turning shiny and slick against her face. She reminded Anna of a cartoon villain with her thousand-yard-stare, dressed in black from head to toe. Black hoodie with some faded death-metal logo. Black jeans, a single rip on the left knee, and boots that looked like they were made to stomp across a post apocalyptic wasteland.

In a tye-dye singlet and shorts, Anna ran bare-foot across the soggy lawn without hesitating, and reached for the girl’s garbage bag, “Here, let me take that for you-”

“-Don’t touch me.”

“O… kay.” Ouch. But Anna understood. That bag probably contained everything she owned in the whole wide world. She didn’t want some stranger touching it. Anna had a habit of coming on too strong, sometimes. It was something she was working on in therapy.

“Elsa.” The social worker spoke sternly, placing a hand on Elsa’s shoulder which was promptly shrugged off with a scowl. Anna couldn’t hear, over the pouring rain, what serious words the worker was saying, but she saw that they were met with an eye-roll and a heavy sigh.

Inside, Anna cosied up to her mother’s side with a placid smile as the worker presented her parents with a fat manila folder, no doubt containing Elsa’s whole entire life history.

“Oh, Gerda, I can’t thank you and Kai enough for accepting the placement. We were really starting to get desperate.”

“It’s no trouble at all,” Gerda said. “We’re happy to share our home. Aren’t we?”

Anna nodded in genuine agreement, hoping to catch Elsa’s attention but only catching the worker’s.

“And you too, Anna. Offering to share your room again. You’re a special girl.”

“Oh, it’s nothing.” Anna waved the statement off, meaning what she said, but also a little concerned about poor Elsa being made to feel like a burden. “I like the company.”

“She sure does!” Kai ruffled her hair, “Still creeps into our bed sometimes when she gets too lonely!”

“Dad!” Anna’s cheeks burnt with embarrassment, but she tried to laugh it off. Wasn’t that what dads were for?

“Why don’t you go help Elsa settle in,” Gerda said with a comforting rub of the shoulder, “and we’ll be there in a minute.”

This was Anna’s cue to leave so her parents could discuss Elsa’s private information with the worker. Things Anna couldn’t know. Sensitive things. Medications, mental health, and of course, whatever terrible things had happened to her. How she had come to be in this unfortunate situation. Without a family to care for her, without a home.

Elsa stood in the center of the bedroom with a look of mild disgust. Again, ouch. Anna had put a lot of effort into making her bedroom cozy and welcoming, but keeping the decor open-ended enough that her rotating carousel of foster-sisters with their different sensibilities wouldn’t feel too much like guests in someone else’s room. She had pot plants in the corners and warm fairy lights tacked up on the pale green walls. The only personal touches she insisted on keeping were the striped blue, pink and purple curtains - a cheeky homage to the bisexual flag - and the small Wicked poster above the desk where Elsa’s eyes were now fixed.

“Do you like musical theater?” Anna asked.

“No. I hate musical theater.” Came the swift reply.

Damn. But no matter. She would find a way to help Elsa settle in. To connect with her. For a brief moment, Anna wondered whether her parents would let her paint the walls black. Perhaps install a few spider webs. “Okay, well… This is our room. Would you like the top bunk or the bottom bunk?”

“Isn’t one of them already yours?”

“I don’t mind.” Anna shrugged. She preferred the bottom bunk, of course. Everyone prefers the bottom bunk. “I just want you to feel at home.”

“Okay…” Elsa threw her garbage bag onto the bed with a weary sigh and headed for the shower, “um, thanks, I guess.”

===

Knock knock knock-knock knock.

“Do you wanna build a sandcastle?”

She’s persistent, this girl. And sweet, too, if I’m honest. Too sweet for her own good. In a different world, in a different life, I’d go to the beach with her and her stinky brother, build a sandcastle, jump over waves and eat ice-cream or whatever they do.

But not in this life. Not while I’m feeling like this. It’s so hard to control when it comes over me. It’s scary. I would hate to do something I regret.

I’ve told her to go away like three times. She sounded hurt, and I felt awful, but I just can’t be around people right now. It’s not safe.

So that’s why I’m here, in the bathtub. It’s not the most comfortable place to write and this whole journaling thing feels stupid anyway (especially doing it in a bathtub) but, Doc, you really think it’s gonna help me somehow, and the bathroom is the only room with a lock in this damn house. It’s funny how they call it a “foster home”. It’s not really a home. It’s just a house. A building. A dumping ground, really, if you want to be brutally honest. There is no home, not for someone like me.

===

Kristoff huffed and puffed and rolled his skateboard back and forth under his impatient foot. Anyone would think they were late to meet the president. “Come on, Anna. Let’s just go already.”

Anna looked down at her phone again. It was 3:48 and all the other kids were long gone. The line of cars had disappeared and the chaos of pick-up time had cleared to an almost eerie silent stillness over the empty school grounds. “We’re all supposed to go home together.”

“Yeah, but clearly Elsa doesn’t want to come home with us.” Irritation built in his voice, sparking an anxious flame in Anna’s chest. “Why should we get in trouble over some shitty new kid who’ll probably be gone soon and never see us again?”

Why, indeed?

It was true, Elsa had shown very little interest in connecting with the two of them over the past few weeks, but Anna simply couldn’t help herself. She had a habit of going after emotionally unavailable people, even when she knew damn well from the start she was only going to get burnt.

It was another thing she was working on in therapy.

“You go ahead. I’m gonna go look for her.”

Anna felt a bit like a secret agent, creeping around the empty school, searching for unlocked rooms. Perhaps Elsa had joined some kind of after-school activity and neglected to tell anyone. Or perhaps she was shooting heroin into her eyeballs behind the sheds. You never could predict, with new kids. Anna’s parents had a habit of taking the ones with “complex needs”.

Anna’s footsteps echoed through the empty hall past blocks of lockers and various deep and edgy art pieces on the walls. A face split down the middle into a bright, smiling side and a dark, evil side with pointed teeth. A silhouette of a pregnant woman on her phone, with a tiny fetus inside on its own tiny phone. Stuff like that.

She’d just about given up, expecting to find the same blunt resistance from another locked door. But it swung open wide and she hesitantly stepped inside, awed by what she found.

In the center of the room, bathed in slanted sunlight, Elsa was perched on the edge of a desk in one of the white, paint-splattered school smocks. The pale tone suited her. So did the tranquil smile. There was a vulnerability to it. Deep in focus, in her sanctuary of private expression, unaware she was being watched. It felt sacred and forbidden, like watching a goddess granting wishes.

She was painting a horse. A white horse, drinking from a glittering blue lake. Flowers, trees, birds and little mushrooms all scattered around. Some kind of fairy-tale castle in the background. As well as the technical prowess - the sense of depth, light and shadow - the scene itself was enchanting. It pulled Anna forward, beckoning her, as if she could step inside and find herself in a more beautiful, more magical world than this one.

Elsa’s brushstrokes were slow and delicate, each one dragged almost sensually over the canvas between pauses of careful thought and a cocked head. For a brief moment, Anna couldn’t help but wonder what it might feel like to be touched by those elegant hands, so lovingly. So deliberately. Without thinking, she whispered, “Wow.”

Elsa spun around and dropped the brush. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“I was looking for you! Because we’re supposed to go home together.” Her words tumbled out at lightning-speed, thrown by Elsa’s hurtful tone. “And I just wanted to make sure you were okay and everything. But that looks amazing. It’s so beautiful.”

“It’s stupid.”

“What? No…” Anna combed back through her words, trying to figure out where she went wrong. What misstep caused Elsa’s eyes to begin filling up with tears. Was just her mere presence that awful? “I- I wasn’t being sarcastic or anything, I think you might genuinely be some kind of prodigy.”

“No, I’m not. I’m shit!”

The palette knife ripped through the canvas with a gut-wrenching sound, and Anna winced to see something so beautiful destroyed. All that hard work down the drain. She wanted to intervene, to do something, anything, to stop the awful scene playing out in front of her, but found herself frozen in place, watching helplessly as Elsa smashed the painting on the table over and over until the wooden frame splintered and snapped. Tears streamed down her face as she tore what was left of the canvas, paint and oil spilling over the floor and covering her hands in ugly splatters. Like a crime scene. Like blood.

Eventually she ran out of steam and fell to her knees, sobbing softly, leaving rainbow streaks of paint on her face as she wiped her bloodshot eyes and looked up at Anna, defeated. “Why don’t you go home?” She whispered with a tear-scratched voice, “I’ll clean this up.”

But Anna couldn’t just leave her like that. She moved over to the sink and soaked two sponges in water, passing one to Elsa then dropping to her knees beside her. They worked in silence for a while, wiping up spilled paint and oil, packing up knocked over paint-pots, gathering up the demolished canvas and placing it in the trash. Nothing was salvageable.

“Why are you doing this?” Elsa asked quietly, and for once there was no malice or sarcasm in her voice. Just a sad kind of weariness. “You don’t have to.”

“I know,” Anna shrugged and smiled, trying not to make a big deal of it, “but that’s what sisters do, isn’t it? Help each other pick up the pieces?”

“You’re not my sister.”

Anna swallowed down the sting, knowing that it was only the truth, an objective fact, not a rejection. It should hurt like it did. She was being over-sensitive.

Again, therapy. Working on it.

She forced a smile as she finished washing her hands. “I’d like to be.”

===

Today was a bad day. Anna found me in the art room and I freaked out and wrecked my painting. I know you’re going to ask, why, Elsa? Why did you freak out because she saw your painting?

And I know you won’t accept “because I’m a freak” as an answer (even if it’s true).

Maybe it’s because every time I go to a new school or a new foster “home”, everyone says, “Oh, wow, Elsa. Your painting is so good.” But every time I leave, somehow, it’s never good enough for anyone to help me go back and get my paintings or prints. Even if there’s time, there’s never space to keep them anywhere. I’ve been calling my old school and no one seems to know what happened to them. They just disappeared, I guess. Like trash. Like me. It hurts.

Here’s the crazy thing, though.

I didn’t hit her. I didn’t swear at her, or throw anything at her, or tell her I wished she would die.

It’s almost like I’m actually making a tiny bit of progress or something crazy like that. Huh. Like all that wacky therapy shit is sinking in, somehow.

Here’s the thing, Doc, and this is truly terrifying. I think I kind of like her. Like, like her, like her. There’s something about her that’s just so… special. I can’t explain it. It’s a crush. It’s stupid. But in the impossible scenario that I were ever actually able to get my shit together and be a normal enough kid to date another kid, I’d want to date someone like Anna.

No, who am I kidding, not “someone like Anna”. I’d want to date Anna.

===

Anna walked with a spring in her step and hands in her pockets, whistling a lilting tune. It was a great day. After nights of hard work and extra effort, she’d finally managed to get an A on her English assignment. She’d been invited to a party on the weekend, found five dollars on the ground, and to top it off, she got a part in the school musical. Just a small part, but she had a few lines on her own and would get to wear a fun costume. The director even said he was thinking about accents.

The first rehearsal had run late, so she’d texted Elsa and Kristoff to head on home without her, opting to walk a few blocks down to the bus stop rather than bother her parents for a lift.

“ ‘Allo gov’ner. Bloody good cuppa tea, innit?” Anna wondered what accents the director was going to ask of them. She had a few up her sleeve, a talent sadly going to waste in her daily life.

“Bonjour mademoiselle, haw-haw-haw, may I ‘ave zee croissant?”

The trick with French was to give every syllable the same amount of emphasis. Italian was a little more challenging.

“That’s a spicy meatball! A sp- A spicy meat-a-ball.”

She took a shortcut through the alley behind the milk-bar to see a fat gray rat staring up at her from the edge of a dumpster, “Crikey, moite, she’s a beaut- Ah!”

Someone was tugging at her backpack!

“Hey, what the hell?” She spun around and her heart sank. It was Hans and one of his stupid brothers in their stupid varsity jackets. She tried to grip onto the bag, but it had only been dangling on one shoulder to begin with. The element of surprise had rattled her, and she was no match in strength for the star football player. Before she knew it, he was holding it up high, leaving her jumping like an idiot, grasping at the dangling straps. “Give it back!”

“Or what?” He sneered. “What are you gonna do, sing and dance at us?”

“Hans, please.” Anna still jumped for her bag, but it was basically just a performance at this point.

It had been like this for years.

With graceful athleticism, he tossed it over her head in a perfect arc through the bright blue sky into the practiced hands of his brother. And, like a well rehearsed performance, she ran to Wilhelm or whatever his name was, and jumped like an idiot for her bag. “Come on guys, I’m gonna miss my bus!”

“Come on guuuuys,” Hans imitated in a high-pitched tone, “I’m gonna miss my buuusss.”

Back and forth, like a pendulum, they tossed her bag and laughed as she ran between them, feeling like a dumb animal. Anxiety flooded through her chest as she thought of the rapidly approaching bus, the prospect of waiting for another one in the cold, or calling for a lift - the soul-shattering possibility of slightly inconveniencing her parents.

It wasn’t like they’d ever gotten mad over something like that before, but deep in her heart, Anna feared it was only a matter of time. It was a core belief she was working on deconstructing. In therapy.

“Drop the bag, boys.”

The low husk of Elsa’s command resonated in the alley-way, and her face was shadowy as the day she arrived at Anna’s house, with that same thousand-yard-stare. She stood unnervingly still. A dark, foreboding figure with the sun dipping behind her. It was very theatrical, actually. Also… a little bit exciting.

“Are you gonna make us?” Hans caught the bag again with deft hands.

“Yeah, what are you gonna do, goth girl?” Wilhelm chuckled, “Cast a spell on us?”

The boys laughed and tossed her bag between them one more time, but a sick feeling bubbled in Anna’s stomach. A sense of impending doom. And her impending-doom-senses tended to be rather accurate.

“I’m warning you,” Elsa said calmly.

The sick feeling grew.

“Did ya hear that? She’s warning us, bro!”

“Aw no, I’m so scared.”

“You should be.” Elsa’s hand emerged from her pocket, and a silver blade protracted, lightning fast, with a click. A switchblade. She raised it ever so slightly and took a step forward.

Wilhelm evidently was so scared, now. He dropped the bag and laughed nervously, raising his hands in surrender, “Okay, man, it was just a joke. Chill out.”

“Yeah,” Hans similarly tried to laugh it off, but his backward steps and wide eyes gave him away, “it was just a little joke. We’re leaving.”

The two of them shuffled down the alley, muttering under their breaths, barely audible, “Fucking psycho.”

Anna’s heart thundered in her chest for some reason, as though she was the one who had been vaguely threatened with a switchblade. She picked up her bag, slowly, not making any sudden movements. Elsa was still standing there, stock-still, with her weapon raised, but her eyes were far away. Hollow. Like she was watching some kind of gory battle scene playing out.

“Elsa?” Anna took a tentative step forward. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” Elsa lowered her arm, blinking herself back into reality and not sounding totally convinced by her own words. “Of course. Are you?”

“Oh, yeah! Just a bit of piggy in the middle. Keeps me fit, I guess. Who needs after-school sports when you’ve got the jocks?” Anna managed a feeble, unconvincing laugh. “Shall we, um, head home?”

“Yeah.” Elsa made a brief attempt at a smile and swallowed thickly. Snow had begun to fall, soft and silent, settling on the shoulders of her black hoodie. She reached out weakly for Anna’s shoulder but dropped her hand before making contact, instead turning away and leading them from the alley just as the snow turned to fat, cold raindrops.

“Come on!” Without thinking, Anna grabbed Elsa’s hand and led her to the old wooden playground across the road, ducking her head as though it might shield her from the rain. “Get in here!”

The tiny space under the play-castle was squishy, having been designed for children. It was also freezing and covered in profane graffiti and various initials carved into love-hearts, but dry and shielded from the rain. The drama of running for cover seemed to have broken the tension, and the two of them shared a nervous laugh. “It’s pretty cool, under here, isn’t it?”

“Yeah. Kinda like we’re in the dungeon.” All traces of the humorless, knife-wielding Elsa had vanished, replaced by soft eyes and a shy smile. “Sorry if I scared you, back there.”

“Takes more than that to scare me.” Anna bumped her shoulder against Elsa’s, trying to lighten the mood but suspecting she had just made it worse, somehow. Implying she had deep dark fears. Traumas. Issues.

Elsa raised an eyebrow.

“I just mean, you know, it was kinda valiant how you came to defend me,” it was one of those moments when Anna knew she should stop talking but her mouth simply continued of its own accord, “like a knight in shining armor. Actually kinda romantic, depending on how you look at it.”

Elsa turned to look quizzically at Anna, both eyebrows now raised. Crouched under the play-castle, their faces were so very, very close together, and, if Anna wasn’t mistaken, moving closer. Close enough to feel Elsa’s warm breath. Almost close enough for…

“Well.” Elsa cleared her throat and shuffled away slightly. Damn. “I can’t stand bullies.”

“Right.” Anna fidgeted awkwardly, trying to make sense of the sinking disappointment in her chest. “Fuck them bullies. So do you always carry, um, a knife?”

“Oh, Olaf?” Elsa pulled the blade again from her pocket and flicked it open, running her finger slowly over the silver blade, looking down lovingly like a mother with her newborn. “Yeah, he comes everywhere with me. Like a friend.”

“He’s got a name?”

“I have my sentimental side.” Elsa shrugged with a tiny half-smile, winked, and shoved Olaf back into her pocket. “Don’t tell anyone or I’ll have to cut your ear off.”

===

The rehearsal was grueling. Three hours of singing the same first verse, all together, over and over until every last voice was pitch-perfect. Every footstep precisely timed, movements synchronized like a well-oiled machine. Having already completed a long, tiring day of school, Anna’s feet felt like they were falling apart, and her mind wasn’t far behind. When the time came to sing her few lines, her knees wobbled and her chest fluttered, and her brain scrambled like eggs in a pan. She missed the note, again!

Crap.

She looked down at her feet, unable to bear the look of disappointment on the director’s face. Feeling so unworthy. So ashamed.

“That was good, Anna.” He had to say that because he was a teacher. It was crap, actually. “Let’s go one more time, and try to get that last note. It’s a funny one, because it’s a flat, so remember, we go down then we end back up here.” He sang the last words in the melody Anna had just previously messed up.

When Anna looked up, she had to do a double take. It was dark in the empty theater, but there she was, unmistakable, about five rows back. Nodding and smiling with calm approval on her face. Elsa. Funnily enough, it gave Anna the bolster of confidence she needed. She kept her eyes locked on Elsa’s and sang her line with a surprising warmth blooming in her chest.

It was hard to describe just why it meant so much. Anna was just a small piece of a larger picture, not a lead, not a star. The audience would be showing up to see Roger Swan and Daisy Duncan, to hear their angelic voices and watch their amazing chemistry. To see the fluid movements of the dancers and admire the intricate set. To show their school spirit.

But Elsa showed up just to see Anna. She could have waited outside. If it was cold, she could have sat up the back, slouched, on her phone, with headphones in - that was how she spent most of her time in class, on the bus, and at home. But she leaned forward on her seat, and her gaze never left Anna, not once.

It wasn’t exactly often that Anna felt special. Noticed. Like she mattered. It was just a small, unimportant moment in the scheme of things, but one she would hold in her heart for a rainy day when those feelings of being forgotten and cast aside threatened to drown her.

“I thought you hated musical theater.” Anna said later on as they dragged their feet over snowy sidewalks.

Elsa kept her hands in her pockets and looked down at the ground. She didn’t smile, but her voice had a softness in it. Increasingly so, these days. “I don’t hate you, though.”

Well, it wasn’t quite an ‘I like you’, but it was something.

For Elsa, possibly, something quite difficult.

It was enough.

===

I started sitting in on Anna’s rehearsals because I didn’t want to walk home with Kristoff. And that’s… still true.

He smells funny. And I’m about eighty percent sure he’s a furry.

But mostly it’s because I like watching Anna. I still hate musical theater, I swear. I just… I like her. I like everything she does. Her smile is like crack - not that I’ve tried crack, Doc, don’t worry. Just in the sense that I can’t get enough of it.

But anyway…

The other night, I had a panic attack in the middle of the night. A car backfired - it reminded me of my dad’s house, I guess. Of gunshots. She somehow woke up with her super-PTSD-spidey-senses and came down onto my bed and just… held me. I’d never felt anything like it - I don’t even have the words, Doc.

I can’t lose control again. I can’t mess up and lose this placement - I can’t lose her.

===

“How come you didn’t make me cupcakes on my birthday?” Kristoff sulked in the kitchen with his arms crossed.

“I knitted you that hat last year!” Anna knew he was joking, but part of her began to worry, regardless. A little voice told her he was upset with her. He would stop loving her. Would cast her aside, maybe even replace her with a new, better sister. “Do you know how long it took me to get those antlers right? And to get the wiring right so they would stand up properly?”

“I know.” Kristoff smiled sheepishly as his hands rose to his beanie-antlers, rubbing them absent-mindedly. “I was only joking, Anna. You take things too hard. It’s like you have no emotional skin.”

“Sorry.” She said, kicking herself. Not apologizing so much was another thing they were working on. “I mean, yeah, I know. My therapist says over-react to perceived threats of rejection.”

“Yeah?” Kristoff patted her shoulder, always missing the deeper meaning. “Mine says personal hygiene is a form of self-love. I think he’s a quack. It’s obviously a conspiracy to prop up the Big Shower industry.”

Anna chose not to comment, instead turning to back her bowls of icing. She had black, white, purple and red, and a Pinterest board full of ‘gothic cupcake ideas’ pulled up on her laptop. The tray had just gone in the oven, and she filled the waiting time browsing Tumblr, Reddit, Facebook and watching Broadway clips on YouTube.

One too many Broadway clips. By the time she smelled the smoke, it was too late.

“Shit!” She yanked the oven open and reached for the tray, cursing again when her fingertips screamed in pain. Stupid! She forgot the oven mit. Smoke billowed out from the open door and the fire alarm pierced her ears. It was chaos. Disaster. Catastrophe. She didn’t know what to do first, and her hand was beginning to throb, hotter and sharper by the second. Overwhelming her. Scrambling all coherent thoughts.

Anna had never been one to keep calm and carry on. When panic arose, it gripped every fiber of her being, ensnaring her like thorny vines, pulling her down into suffocating darkness. She curled up, helpless and alone in the corner of the kitchen, buried her head in her arms and let herself sink below the surface.

When the beeping stopped, Anna took a moment to register the sudden lack of piercing noise. She looked up from her arms to see Elsa resetting the smoke-alarm, calm as ever, opening the window and waving out the smoke. Finally, she stood with her arms crossed, inspecting the burnt, blackened cupcakes with a thoughtful, “Hm.”

“I’m sorry.” That’s all Anna could manage. She felt like a puddle of goo, down there on the floor. Useless and without substance.

“Why are you sorry?” Elsa asked, removing one of the blackened cupcakes from the tray with Olaf, and cutting it open to inspect the damage. “You haven’t hurt anyone.”

“I promised to make you spooky birthday cupcakes and I fucked it up. And now you won’t have any.”

Elsa crouched down, with that rare soft look in her eyes and a smile that Anna couldn’t quite read. If she was disappointed, she hid it well. “Anna. No one’s ever even thought of making me birthday cake before, let alone spooky cake. The fact that you even tried means so much to me.”

“Really?” A warmth spread through Anna’s chest. An odd relief. She was forever being told this mistake or that awkward moment wasn’t a big deal, no one was mad at her, and all that. But somehow, this time, she really believed it.

“Yeah, and besides,” a mischievous smile spread over Elsa’s face, “we still have all this icing.”

Anna gasped. “We can’t just eat the icing on its own!”

“Who’s gonna stop us?” Elsa dipped her finger into the bowl of black icing, then popped it into her mouth and pulled it out again in a slow, sensual movement that made Anna suddenly feel tingly in her belly. “The police?”

Who was this badass person? Eating icing with reckless abandon, living so dangerously? And when did she become so alluring? Was she… sexy?

These were the questions Anna pondered as she found herself sitting cross legged on the kitchen floor, giggling like a child as this girl, who was once so cold, now booped her on the nose with icing and giggled with her as they finished all three bowls of the sugary paste.

===

Anna was often the last one to leave rehearsal, after staying behind to help pack up and everything. She entered the green room to collect her things, expecting to find Elsa waiting for her. Instead, she found Hans. Her stomach dropped and she backed toward the door. “What are you doing here? Come to cut holes in the butts of our costumes or something?”

“No!” He held his hands up in front of him, an oddly serious look on his face. “Actually, look, this might sound crazy, but I’m here to apologize.”

“Apologize?” Anna raised one eyebrow, skeptical. Hans had bullied her since they were small, and she suspected this to be some kind of practical joke. He would probably say he was in love with her next, then have his jock friends jump out and laugh at her or something. “For what, stealing my bag every other week? Spreading that rumor about me being a bedwetter last year, or squirting mustard in my hair the year before that, or, wait, the time you stole my shoes and set them on fire in the middle of winter and I had to walk home barefoot in the snow?”

He cracked a smile and his eyes drifted as though watching the memory, “Oh, yeah, that was fucking hilarious.”

A bubble of rage swelled in Anna’s throat, and she swallowed it down. Sometimes that’s all she could do. “Yeah, right. Thought so.”

She headed for the door but he blocked her with his bulking form, shaking his head, “No, wait, I’m sorry. It wasn’t funny for you.”

Anna sighed. “Hans, if this is some kind of elaborate prank, I’m not falling for it.”

“It’s not! For real, I know I’ve been an absolute ass to you since we were kids. And I know I can’t take that back. But here’s the thing, I’ve actually been in therapy.”

“You’ve been in therapy?”

“Yeah, I know. Crazy, right? Because I seem perfect on the outside.” He said matter-of-factly, still blocking the door frame with his arm. It took all Anna had to contain her laugh. “But I’ve been working on developing my empathy, and something called prosocial behavior, I’ve got this whole workbook-”

The door opened with a creak and Elsa stood blinking in surprise. Still as a statue. Her eyes moved back and forth between Hans and Anna, and her voice was shrill. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing!” Anna squeaked. Well, crap. Now it seemed like something was definitely going on.

Elsa’s eyebrows narrowed.

“Oh, hey, Elsa.” Hans said cheerfully, evidently not picking up on Elsa’s shallow breathing or her thousand-yard-stare or any of the million other signs she was currently giving that something was very wrong. Evidently not feeling the same sick bubbling in his stomach that Anna was feeling.

If he had felt that same impending doom, perhaps he would have removed his hulking self from between the two girls. Removed his arm, at least. Recognised how it looked from the outside - he couldn’t entirely help it, being so tall and so clueless, but intentionally or not, he was standing over Anna, essentially trapping her inside.

He turned to face Elsa, and barely got out half a sentence, “We were just having a chat-”

Everything after that, Anna could only remember in flashes, like still frames, out of order. The glint of Olaf, the sound of the blade protracting and the rage - or was it terror - in Elsa’s voice as she choked out, “Get away from her!”

Elsa might have stabbed him three times, or thirty-three times. Anna’s brain froze up as crimson soaked through his blue and white varsity jacket. Her eyes met his in a split second of horrible recognition, as she tried to comprehend what this meant. What she was witnessing. How things could have been so normal a second ago, and now her tormentor was slumped against the wall, sliding down, gripping his shoulder and lost for words.

Just as soon as she entered her blind rage, Elsa returned to clarity. Olaf clattered against the hardwood floor as she stepped back, trembling, gazing upon the bloody scene with her mouth agape and eyes wide with terror, then down to her trembling, bloody hands. “What have I done?”

Faster and faster her chest rose, she shook her head, and for a moment it looked like she might vomit, but she didn’t. She just bolted out the door, frantic footsteps fading into the night.

“Anna.” Hans’ voice snapped her back to reality. It was surprisingly calm and steady, given the amount of blood gushing out of him and how pale his face had become. “Call an ambulance.”

“Right. Ambulance.” Anna’s phone slipped like a bar of soap in her shaking hands, but she managed, eventually, to call emergency services and follow their instructions. She managed to help Hans lie down, to apply pressure to the wound with all her weight, but either her weight wasn’t enough or she couldn’t figure out exactly where the wounds were, because his pale face took on a sickly shade of gray, his eyelids fluttered and his words began to slur, and the river of crimson blood spilled ever further over the floor, reflecting the fluorescent lights above.

For a moment, Anna thought he might die, and nothing he’d ever done to her mattered any more because he was a human being, and he was going to die, at seventeen, right here on the green room floor of Golden Plains High School before his life had begun.

What was left of her composure broke as the paramedics arrived, lifted him onto the stretcher and began to cut his shirt off. It was only once they were halfway to the hospital and her unconscious bully had been placed on a ventilator that Anna thought to call her parents.

“Mommy?” She began to sob harder and harder, squeezing cold air through her panicked lungs. “Can you pick me up from the hospital? Something’s happened…”

===

“Anna, sweetheart.” Gerda pleaded, holding her daughter in a tight embrace and stroking her hair. “We’ve done everything we can tonight. You need to get some rest.”

It was almost midnight and Anna had barely stopped sobbing. Her parents had all but forced her to drink some water and eat a bit of toast. Now, they were trying to coax her into bed. “Fine,” she said, trudging to her room with the hot chocolate she’d barely touched, now cold in her hands, “but wake me up if there’s any news?”

“Of course we will, sweetie.” Kai was a great hugger, and a great listener, but a terrible liar.

Anna’s phone was on three percent battery, and she never expected Elsa would actually answer one of her ten million texts asking where she was. But, eventually, she did.

In the dungeon.

There was no question. Anna had to go after her. She tip-toed down the hall, past the worried murmur of her parents’ voices and toward the back door, to find it blocked by Kristoff. Arms crossed. No-nonsense look on his face. “Going somewhere?”

“Just for a walk.” Anna shrugged. “To clear my head.”

“You’re a terrible liar, you know that?”

Anna sighed and looked down at her feet. Evidently, it ran in the family.

“Anna, you’re not seriously going to follow her?”

“Sh!” Anna glanced down the hall, behind her, knowing her parents would absolutely stop her. “Of course I am. She’s out there all alone and frightened-”

“-That’s crazy! It could be dangerous.”

“She’s my sister, she would never hurt me!”

“Okay, first of all, no she’s not,” Kristoff said, but he was already pulling her coat from the rack and passing it to her, followed by her beanie which he took the liberty of pulling down over her head, knowing what she was like. Knowing he couldn’t stop her. “Second of all, she literally just stabbed someone.”

Anna swallowed thickly as the image of blood seeping through a varsity jacket and Hans’ pallid face flashed through her mind for the millionth time. She had no defense for Elsa, in that regard. She only knew that underneath the cold, hard, knife-wielding exterior, there was a sweet, sad girl who loved to paint and couldn’t stand bullies and ate icing straight from the bowl, and, even though she hated musical theater, sat through all of Anna’s rehearsals with a smile on her face and made her feel special.

“At least let me Uber you there. I’ll hang back so I don’t scare her, but I need to know you’re safe.” He looked up from his beeping phone. “Our driver Sven is four minutes away. Come on.”

The roads were almost empty, and no one spoke a word as the car rolled over slick, wet bitumen, into the quiet darkness of the winter night.

“Hey.” Anna ducked under the play-castle, now coated in shiny blue frost, and approached Elsa like she would a scared alley cat, on slow, gentle steps.

Elsa looked up with bloodshot eyes. “What are you doing here?”

“Figured you could use a friend.”

“I don’t deserve a friend.” Elsa’s voice broke on every word. She looked so fragile and pale, curled up in a fetal position, as though she was the one who had lost a third of her blood. “I’ve just killed someone.”

Anna squished herself next to Elsa on the freezing pine bark, and took those trembling pale hands in her own gloved ones. “Hans isn’t dead.”

“Really?” Elsa’s whole body sagged with relief, and she crumpled into Anna’s arms, sobbing softly. “Oh, god, I can’t believe it.”

“Mhm.” Anna nodded, rubbing soothing circles into her back. “He lost a lot of blood and went into shock. And he’ll need a couple of surgeries. But he’s okay. For now.”

The playground outside rattled and groaned against the howling wind, and it truly did feel like they were in a dungeon, awaiting some terrible judgment.

“Elsa.” Anna removed her arms, only so she could hold Elsa’s shoulders steady and look into her bleary eyes. “It’s freezing out here. And dangerous. Come home.”

“I can’t.” Elsa shook her head, tears trailing down pale cheeks, eyes closed into sad semi-circles, “Don’t you understand? There is no home. Not for me.”

“Of course there is, Elsa.” Anna let her hands slide down Elsa’s arms to her elbows. “You’re part of our family now. And we’re still here to support you. All of us, me, Mom, Dad, Kristoff-”

“No, you’re not!” Elsa pulled away, shuffling back into the corner and speaking into the wooden bars of their play-prison. “And I’m not part of your family, that’s bullshit, and you know it. It’s not the same.”

“Elsa, please,” Anna reached out, but didn’t yet find the nerve to pull Elsa back, hugging herself instead and lowering her voice. “I know how hard it is to feel like you’re alone in the world, but-”

“-What do you know about being alone in the world, Anna?” The words stung like the icy wind whipping Anna’s cheeks. “You have this perfect family, these perfect parents who adore you-”

“-You know they adopted me, right? When I was ten.”

Elsa spun back around to face Anna with suddenly soft, wide eyes. Halted in her tracks. Listening. Anna generally avoided talking about herself too much, preferring to keep the focus on others, but in this moment, she had the sense that Elsa needed to know, somehow, in some sense, despite their many differences, that she wasn’t entirely alone in her loneliness.

“My original parents left me at a 7-Eleven parking lot when I was five. Just… dumped me there one night. Never came back.”

“Anna…” Elsa shook her head lightly, mouth agape, “I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize, I just assumed…”

Anna shugged. Ten years later, and she still had never quite figured out what to say when people inevitably gave her their sympathies. Luckily, this time, she didn’t have to. Elsa continued.

“That’s horrible. You didn’t deserve that.”

All Anna could do was shrug again, because after all those years, she still kind of wondered if she did. It’s one of those things she would probably be working on in therapy until she died.

“Were you scared?” Elsa faced her now, cross legged and calm, but somber. Gripping Anna’s hands, rubbing her thumbs over her knuckles. Holding gentle, teary eye contact. It still hurt - it always would - but the pain was satisfying, like kneading at a tight muscle.

“Yes. I was.” Scared didn’t begin to describe it. But now wasn’t the time to open up that endless void of terror and hurt that dwelled within the depths of Anna’s heart. Now, she had a problem to solve. “Are you scared now?”

“Yes.” Elsa whispered. “What if I go to jail, Anna?”

Anna lifted a hand to Elsa’s face and stroked a tear away with her thumb, “Then I’ll visit you every week. And send you care packages.”

Elsa blinked in surprise, letting out an almost-laugh. “W-what?”

“You’ll keep your head down, go to the gym every day, get buff, and read all the classics,” both of Anna’s hands now rested on Elsa’s cheeks, “and I’ll wait for you.”

No more words were spoken. There was nothing more to say. Against the backdrop of the terrifying unknown future, only one thing was as clear as the pure white snow all around. Only one thing could fit in the gentle silence of mutual understanding - a kiss. It was everything Anna hoped her first kiss would be - warm, soft, sweet, a little bit dramatic. Elsa’s lips fit perfectly on her own, Elsa’s hands fit perfectly on her back, and Anna’s heart felt safe in Elsa’s blood-stained hands.

===

“In addition to the pain and suffering, medical costs, and the emotional trauma caused to the victim and his family, the damage to Mr Westergaard’s shoulder is extensive and will require further surgeries and ongoing physiotherapy…”

The judge read from her notes in a droll tone, barely looking down at the bench. Anna could practically feel Elsa’s thundering heart beside her. She reached over and held her hand, down low, between them, as subtly as she could.

“Mr Westergaard will no longer be eligible for any tertiary athletic scholarships, and his future academic prospects have been severely impacted by this.”

On the other side of the courtroom, Hans looked sheepishly down at his arm in a sling, nestled between his teary-eyed parents. A bit precious, if you asked Anna. It’s not like he died. His bullying days were over, that much was for sure.

“Of course, I’ve also taken into account the fact that your crime was not premeditated, you are deeply remorseful, and to your credit, you pleaded guilty, saving your victim the added stress of going to trial. As your lawyer has impressed upon us, the impact of witnessing the violent murder of your mother at the hands of your father at the age of eight cannot be overstated in understanding what was going through your head at that moment, as well as the fact that you’ve been through so many foster homes and not had a safe and stable place to process this unfathomable trauma. However, this level of reactive behavior, at such a young age, is concerning and does need to be addressed.”

Much like the rest of the courtroom, Anna held her breath - this was the moment of truth. The moment when she would find out if she was going to lose Elsa. What consequences would shape her life from here on out.

“Due to your vulnerability and the level of support required, it is my ruling that you will serve a twelve month suspended sentence, during which you engage in intensive therapeutic supports…”

The rest of the words all blurred into the background, much like Anna’s vision, teary as she was. She only knew that ‘suspended’ was good. It meant not in prison. Not separated. Together.

===

The first time Anna was asked to sign in at reception and leave her bag in a locker, then frisked for sharps or drugs and led through several electronically locked doors, she admittedly freaked out a little bit. She understood that Elsa had been charged as a minor and given a suspended sentence, which meant she wouldn’t have to go to prison. What she didn’t understand was how this “secure welfare facility” was any different from a prison.

The worker insisted it was a home. A highly structured, therapeutic environment for kids with nowhere else to go, struggling with significant emotional and behavioral challenges - like stabbing people, for example.

Anna was skeptical - it sounded like prison with extra steps.

But she was pleasantly surprised by the warmth of the place. The coziness, the bright colors, comfy couches and big windows letting in sunlight. The friendly faces and kind words of the staff. The gentleness. And now she was used to her regular Saturday routine - wouldn’t miss it for the world. She knew all the workers by name, and today it was Julie who led her down the hall past messy offices, the classroom, the music room, the kitchen, the garden, the “calm down room”, the dining hall where a few kids sat at a long table, eating cereal and laughing, and the rec room where the sound of a TV meshed with the rhythmic thwack of a ping-pong ball.

As soon as Julie unlocked the door to the art room, Elsa turned from her latest wall-length masterpiece and ran to Anna, wrapping her in a warm embrace. A rather passionate embrace, with lots of hair stroking and nuzzling, until another kid yelled, “Get a room!”

Every week though, there would come a moment when the workers would turn their backs and Anna would get her sneaky (and a little bit dramatic) kiss, and it was worth the six days of painstaking patience.

The spare bed in Anna’s room remained empty. It, too, would be worth the wait, however long it would take until Elsa was ready to come home.

#elsanna #april 2022 contest #prompt: home #submission #cw: violence #cw: blood #cw: trauma

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vcg73 · 4 years ago

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FIC: Kurt Birthday Drabbles

Earlier this week @elledelajoie left a comment on something I wrote all the way back in 2014. I had genuinely forgotten I ever started it, but the original idea was to write 21 Kurt Hummel birthday drabbles. I had written just 7 of them, but after we chatted about it, I decided to go ahead and finish.

If you’re not familiar, a drabble is a scene of exactly 100 words, not counting title headers. Since Chris Colfer and Kurt Hummel’s co-birthday (May 27) is coming up this Thursday, here they are. This goes definite AU at Birthday #19. Because you know I would never sentence my beloved Kurt to a life of being a doormat to people who did not appreciate and value him.

Never underestimate the power of feedback!

~*~*~*~*~

Birthday #1

Kurt’s blue eyes went wide as a frosted cupcake was set upon his high-chair tray, a single candle ablaze on its surface.

When Mommy, Daddy, Uncle Andy, Grandpa Curtis and Grandma Eileen started singing to him, he smiled and clapped both hands hard around the tempting pile of frosting.

Kurt laughed when the sugary topping went flying and a big splatter of white abruptly decorated Daddy’s surprised face.

Everyone else started laughed too, including the startled father, who retaliated by giving his birthday boy a sticky peck on the cheek and then helped him to blow out a new candle.

Birthday #2

Kurt looked between his presents, confused.

Mommy had given him the pretty dolly he had begged for at the store. Daddy had given him a truck, not big enough to ride but too big to live with the little cars Daddy gave him at Christmas.

His parents seemed to be mad at each other.

Kurt looked at the doll, then at the truck. He smiled and placed Dolly inside the truck and began to drive her around the carpet.

Mommy and Daddy seemed surprised by his actions, but then they laughed, and Kurt knew he had figured out the puzzle.

Birthday #3

His shoes were black and shiny, buckles on the sides and 1-inch heels on the base. He clomped over the hardwood floors, listening to the click-tap-click-tap in delight. They went perfectly with his dove gray coveralls with “Kurt” sewn on the pocket in black sequins. Mommy had made the outfit for him.

Spotting Daddy watching him, Kurt threw himself into waiting arms. Daddy’s smile looked like he had an owie but was trying to be a big boy and not cry.

Kurt hugged him. “It’s okay, Daddy.”

Burt looked surprised but hugged him back. “Yeah, buddy. I think it is.”

Birthday #4

Ballet girls were nice. When they heard it was his birthday today, they threw him a party. Kurt puffed up with pleasure when presented with cookies, a sparkly wand and a tiara that read ‘Happy Birthday’ in shiny letters. He was not as fond of the kisses they gave, but four was very grown up, so he screwed up his face and allowed it. The teacher even let him wear the special puffy pink tutu over his little black leotard!

He saw Mommy and Daddy up in the gallery taking pictures, so he waved.

Kurt hoped today would last forever.

Birthday #5

“Can I have cupcakes?”

Kurt’s mother looked up from her book. “I don’t think we have any, sweetheart.”

“Can we have some Thursday? My birthday is the last day of preschool.”

“It is?” she said, looking surprised. “Is it your birthday already?”

He nodded seriously. “Don’t you remember, Mommy? You were there.”

She laughed. “Well, you have me there. What kind of cupcakes would you like, sweetie? And don’t say cheesecake. Those are two completely different kinds of dessert.”

Kurt’s hopeful expression fell. “Oh,” he said, clearly disappointed. Then his face brightened again. “Chocolate?”

She nodded. “That we can do.”

Birthday #6

“Daddy!”

Burt sat up just in time to catch the little body that launched at him. “What’s wrong, slugger?”

“It’s my birthday!”

Grinning despite the way his heart was hammering at the abrupt awakening, Burt asked, “Yeah? I like birthdays. Do I get a present?”

“No,” the boy scoffed. “I get presents!”

Burt squinted at the clock. 3:15am. “Not until morning, you don’t.”

Kurt pouted and tried, “It’s almost morning.”

“Not close enough, kid. C’mere,” Burt pulled him into the warm bed between himself and his wife.

Kurt snuggled down and went right back to sleep.

Burt was less lucky.

Birthday #7

Kids had started treating him funny this year. He was too fancy, too girly, holding hands was weird.

Nobody was coming.

“I’m sorry, sweetie.”

“Am I too late?”

They jumped as a little black girl with pom-pom hair popped out of nowhere.

“I’m Mercedes,” she greeted. “We just moved here. Mom said you would have invited me if you’d known.”

“I’m Kurt.” He smiled. “Do you like tea parties?”

“Is there cake?”

Mrs. Hummel beamed. “Cake, ice cream, and Kool-Aid.”

Kurt shrugged. “Nobody else came.”

She grabbed his hand like she’d known him forever. “More for us! Happy Birthday, Kurt.”

Birthday #8

Kurt took a deep breath, thought for a moment, and carefully blew out the candles. All but the extra one that his parents always put on his cake.

“Aren’t you gonna finish, bud?”

He looked from Daddy over to his mother, home again, but so frail he was sometimes afraid to hug her, worried she might pop like a fragile soap bubble. He offered her the candle. “Here, Mommy. Blow it out. Maybe you’ll get another year to grow on.”

The eyes of the two adults met, then Mommy nodded. The three of them blew out the final candle together.

Birthday #9

Barely daring to hope, Kurt came down the stairs. Birthday cakes and presents had been Mommy’s specialty. Daddy had forgotten his own birthday and had nearly forgotten Christmas.

Kurt gasped when he saw it, waiting, shining and spectacular against the front door.

“A bike!”

Bright green, sissy bars with foil streamers, and a banana seat. Perfect!

Burt smiled. He had scoffed a such a “girly” bike when Kurt spotted it at the toy store. But now, looking at the all-too-rare joy in his son’s eyes and feeling the approving smile his wife would have given, he nodded. It was perfect.

Birthday #10

Buying gifts was tough when your kid always clammed up on you. A dad had to be observant.

Ten years old. A landmark like that needed something special, but the only thing Kurt seemed into was clothes. He had enough of those for ten kids.

He’d probably like a Barbie he could change in and out of different outfits, but Burt cringed at the thought.

He did doodle pretty good though. Sure, it was mostly pictures of clothes, but that was a start.

A fancy sketchpad with a case and a hundred different colored pencils. Yeah, that was the ticket.

Birthday #11

“Dad, where are we going?”

“You’ll see.”

Kurt sighed with exaggerated impatience. He had come home from school to find Dad waiting at the truck, ordering him to get in, then not saying another word. The suspense was killing him.

“Ta-Dahhhh!”

They had pulled up in front of a nondescript brick building. “Columbus Culinary Arts?”

“You like to cook right? Well, we’re gonna fix your birthday dinner this year with the help of a real chef. Lessons are once a week for the next couple months.”

Gourmet cooking lessons!

“Oh wow. Dad, this is amazing!”

Burt grinned. “Happy Birthday, kid.”

Birthday #12

Last year’s surprise had gone so well that Burt had decided on a repeat. But when he saw the excitement on Kurt’s face at finding a pair of tickets inside his birthday card turn to disappointment and horror, quickly masked with a fake smile, he knew he’d goofed.

“I know baseball isn’t your thing,” he said, almost pleading. “But you’ve never seen a live game before. It’s a whole different experience. It’s a home game. We can yell and scream, and cheer our team on with thousands of other fans.”

The stiff not-smile never wavered. “Sounds . . . fun.”

Birthday #13

Dad had bought out one of the partners at the garage this spring and now owned a majority share of the renamed “Hummel Tires & Lube”. Kurt wanted to snicker at that name, but he was proud too.

His birthday this year coincided with Friday Night Dinner. Dad had invited all the mechanics over for a potluck. They’d had Mary’s special fried chicken, Cassius’s homemade cornbread, and Davy’s mac’n’cheese. Now Dad brought out the cake.

Kurt laughed. A sheet-cake with a tow-truck and two little plastic mechanics for decoration.

“You and me kid. Partners.”

The mechanics cheered and everybody dug in.

Birthday #14

Kurt froze when he saw tickets peeping out of his card. Not again. Noise, sunburn, unhealthy food, tacky uniforms, and Dad trying so hard to make a boring sport seem like fun.

He sighed and pasted on a smile, which quickly transformed into shock.

“Wicked?” he squeaked, staring hard at the little papers as if the printing might change if he dared to look away.

“Embassy Theater is giving regional business owners a discount this year,” Burt said apologetically. “It’s just a traveling production, not real Broadway, but I …”

His apology was cut off by a joyful teenaged hug.

Birthday #15

“Don’t worry, son, you got this. Just remember everything I taught you. You got a whole year to get ready for the practical test.”

“I know.”

“And it’s okay if you don’t get it right the first time. Not everybody does.”

“I’m fine, Dad.”

“I’ll be right here waiting for you when you’re through.”

“I know that, Dad. I’ll be okay, really.”

At that moment, Kurt’s name was called and he sprang from his hard green plastic chair. His dad’s repeated reassurances were making him jumpy.

Twenty minutes later, a brightly grinning Kurt was waving his freshly minted driver’s permit.

Birthday #16

Burt patted the giant blue bow the dealership had provided over the hood of the shining black Lincoln Navigator.

Kurt was gonna flip! He’d passed his DMV test with flying colors and was no doubt showing off his shiny new license to all his friends at school.

He paused. Did Kurt have any friends to share this accomplishment with? He always seemed so alone.

Maybe that’s why he had decided to spoil his son with a huge birthday gift.

It wasn’t right for such a good kid to be all alone. Maybe having his own ride would help change that.

Birthday #17

A dozen teens gathered in Kurt’s basement to celebrate the end-of-school, non-disbanding of Glee, and Kurt’s birthday, all in one.

“Not like ten years ago,” Mercedes said to Kurt, as they watched Mike and Brittany dance.

“Ten years?”

“Your seventh? It was just you, me, your mom, and lots of chocolate cake.”

Kurt was astounded. “That was you?”

“You forgot?”

“I remember a little girl who showed up and invited herself to my party.”

“And I remember a little boy who needed a friend as much as I did.”

He squeezed her hand. “Thanks for coming.”

She squeezed back. “Always.”

Birthday #18

Kurt stared at his birthday cake, unable to think of anything to wish for.

He was 18-years-old today, a legal adult. He had new family in Carole and Finn, his dad was on the mend, he would be back at McKinley for senior year, he had made his first visit to New York City, and he had a boyfriend! One who had just told Kurt that he loved him for the very first time.

‘I wish for next year to be as good as this,” he thought, taking a deep breath and blowing.

The flames flickered out, all except one.

Birthday #19

Senior year had been a disaster, and now he had not gotten into NYADA, despite his well-praised audition.

“Blaine wants me to spend another year here,” he whispered. “I just can’t.”

Burt’s callused hand squeezed his neck. “Then don’t. You’re 19 now, a man. You got talents galore, work experience from the garage, enough drive for ten kids, and your mom’s life insurance money to give you a start.”

“But…”

“No buts,” Burt said firmly. “You go on to New York and grab life by the balls.”

Kurt felt his optimism rise. “Help me look for apartments?”

“You got it.”

Birthday #20

What a difference a year made.

He’d dumped Blaine after being cheated on less than a month after leaving Lima. He was enrolled at FIT and sharing a shoebox apartment with a fellow design student and a Broadway hopeful, but both were young gay men from small towns, and they had a lot in common.

“Happy Birthday!” Elliott shouted, tossing a handful of glittery sequins at him.

Adam came in playing the birthday song on a kazoo he had gotten from who-knows-where. “Ready for Callbacks? $20 on who gets the first hot guy’s number!”

“I already have yours. I win!”

Birthday #21

“I have the honor of presenting your first official grown-up drink,” Adam said, smiling lovingly at his grinning boyfriend of nearly a year. He set down a martini glass with a cherry floating on top. “A Manhattan seemed appropriate.”

Kurt beamed and gave him a kiss, then took an experimental sip. “I’ve had alcohol before,” he admitted. “Mostly wine, though. Mm, this is good!”

“I thought you’d like it. Happy Birthday, my love. May the future bring every good thing you wish for, and never more heartache than you can handle.”

Kurt could not have asked for a better sentiment.

THE END

#birthday drabbles #Kurt and Burt #Kurt and Mercedes #Kurt and Adam

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awhitewomansinstagram · 6 months ago

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Yesss I’m like on the very edge of older gen z (2003) and I remember growing up with like, the leapfrog thing for kids and the original Wii as the big “gaming” systems lollll, I think when I finally got a laptop (probably when I was 11 or 12?) one of the first games I got was zoo tycoon and I was so excited because it was the expansion pack version.

I was around for the Disney channel era of good luck Charlie, Jessie, and Austin and Ally (Jessie ftw), I remember thinking it was so cool that my mom got the iPhone 3 or 4, and when my sister got a DS it was a HUGE deal. My first phone was a tiny little bar phone that I got when I was maybe 11 and then I got a super cheap Samsung at 13 and thought it was so cool because I could play candy crush—no modern social media until I was like 17 or something (I had Facebook i guess, but I don’t think that “counts” as modern anymore)

I was around for toys-r-us before the weird rebrand thing that happened and when the top gift idea for kids was a ripstick or the electric razor scooter. I had zhu zhu pets, a bunch of Webkinz, and an animal jam account on god knows what computer maybe an old shared desktop my family had. Computers still had DVD holders. I knew how to play vhs cassettes and we went to blockbuster (fly high sweet angel) and Redbox or we mail ordered Netflix cds (and a lot of them you had to wait if someone else had the copy) because they werent even a streaming service yet

My middle school was the whole mustache and bacon duct tape craze… still never going to understand how we all somehow fell into that mass psychosis. Sephora barely existed in my consciousness. I saw the last hobbit movie in theaters. The nook tablet at Barnes and noble was “high tech” to me

I survived the cold shoulder shirt phase. My first “concert” was panic at the disco at a festival and I don’t even think pray for the wicked had come out yet

Also I’m apparently in that group of American kids that are like, the last to actually know how to write cursive which is insane to me!!!

By birth year I’m solidly in Gen Z and possibly older Gen z but I feel like I wasn’t raised with a lot of exposure to modern tech other than like, early 2000s Nintendo and like two computer games and Microsoft word. I know it’s more than the very start of Gen z but damn, whenever I meet kids that are born past 2008 I’m like “yeah no I’m going with the millennials”

Anyway u guys wanna trade silly bandz

Millennials this, Gen Z that. But where is my fellow Zillennials at? Those of us who at the start of our lives didn't have cell phones. We had house phones. Well our parents may have had a cell phone but it was the Nokia phone that had the snake game. Those of us who actually had to go outside and play because we didn't have ipads. Those of us who may or may not have had a computer but it was a family computer, one the whole family shared. Those of us who started to learn what an atlas was because teachers thought we'd need to use them but never actually needed to use one. Those of us who learned what an encyclopedias was and actually used them up until late middle school when we finally got to google stuff. Where are you?

#zillenial #gen z #millennial #generations #webkinz #zhu zhu pets #mustache craze #bar phone #iphone 4 #zoo tycoon #ripstick #razor scooter #nostalgia #blockbuster #Redbox #netflix #panic at the disco #cursive #silly bandz

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dinosaurtsukki · 4 years ago

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haikyuu!! characters and their fave musicals

pretty much an hc’s for funsies type of thing. which characters are absolute nerds for musicals and which ones couldn’t care less? i know not everyone likes musicals but if this is your thing, feel free to read!

Hinata: he’s one of those people who watched Shrek the Musical unironically and ended up getting really hooked on it but no way is he going to tell anyone

Kageyama: thinks that the Shrek trilogy are counted as movie musicals because ‘the characters sing and everything’. will fall asleep in a theatre so don’t bring him you’ll be disappointed

Tsukishima: loves Avenue Q and The Producers because the humor is right up his alley. also has tASTE and his fave is probs something like Hadestown because it is the best musical. loves to break down the lyrics and listens to an album non-stop when he’s obsessed

Yamaguchi: he tried to watch Grease but ended up throwing popcorn at the tv-screen because of the blatant sexism. yams is not About That. gets his recommendations from Tsukki and has never looked back

Tanaka: likes anything with awesome choreography and really cool special-effects like Hamilton or Be More Chill. when you ask him about the story though he’s like ???

Noya: doesn’t get the concept of musicals. ‘she’s singing about the guy but he’s right there??? doesn’t he hear everything????’ ‘WHY ARE THEY SINGING JUST FIGHT ALREADY’

Ennoshita: also has Taste. watches pretty much anything and loves to keep track of new productions and new casting. if you ask him about his favorite musical he’ll probably specifically mention the cast and where it was performed

Asahi: y’all are gonna hate me y’all are gonna hate me but JESUS CHRIST SUPERSTAR haha jk. one hundred percent a Dear Evan Hansen kinda guy because he relates to the main guy’s personality. has waving through a window on repeat

Sugawara: LOVES the classics: Les Miserables, Phantom of the Opera, Miss Saigon. knows every song and movement by heart. sings them everywhere. would not listen to anything else. also Moulin Rouge because he’s one Classy Bitch

Daichi: appreciates any good musical recommended to him but the kind of person who presses ‘shuffle’ when listening to the recording and all the fans around him die inside. does this more than once just for that reaction

Kiyoko: loves anything with awesome female roles, particularly Legally Blonde and Six the Musical. raises an eyebrow at you if you say you like Grease and you land on her list of people she would barely talk to

Yachi: practically raised on disney movie musicals. loves to watch and re-watch videos from Broadway Princess Party a lot. is basically a disney princess herself and loves to put some songs on when she cleans the house.

Kuroo: one of those people who got really into Hamilton back in the day. would sing the vocals, the back-up vocals, the chorus parts, and hum the intros. says he’s a musical fan but that’s the only one he’s watched/listened to.

Kenma: someone recommended Be More Chill to him (probably tsukki) and he ended up actually liking it. once in a while you’ll hear him humming ‘christiiiiIIiine’ under his breath. likes to listen to michael in the bathroom at 2 am

Yaku: hates musicals ever since Nekoma had a movie night and then decided to watch Lion King and lev dead-ass lifted him up over his head like what rafiki did to simba in That Scene.

Lev: another one who likes disney musicals but like, the basic ones (frozen, tangled, beauty and the beast). mostly because they’re his sister’s favorites tho. has more than once did the whole ‘do you want to build a snowman’ thing with alisa and probably his teammates

Oikawa: thinks that liking Heathers makes him edgy it doesn’t. practically paid hanamaki and matsukawa to sing Candy Store with him and using iwa as veronica. absolutely vibes to the Mean Girls musical

Iwaizumi: a hard High School Musical stan, now and forever. thinks that Ryan and Chad are definitely gay. one time oikawa was giving them a pep talk and said ‘what team?’ and iwa yelled ‘WILDCATS’ and then everybody looked at him because they KNEW they KNEW HE NEVER GOT OVER THAT PHASE--

Matsukawa: Cats. The Movie.* wrote a long-ass thread on twitter about why the female cats should be given six boob and tagged Tom Hooper. was blocked.

Hanamaki: *see above. probably had his sexual awakening when he saw Idris Elba as a sexy cat. there’s nothing gendered about a sexy cat

Kyoutani: likes the leather jacket aesthetic in Grease. looked up the lyrics to ‘Greased Lightning’ once and shut off his laptop when he saw the innuendos. may have tried to replicate the choreography at one point but fell off a table

Yahaba: a romantic at heart. has a copy of the West Side Story DvD and loves to sing ‘Maria’ and ‘One Hand, One Heart.’ he and Oikawa love to duet ‘I Feel Pretty.’ also tried to copy the choreography and sUCCEEDED

Ushijima: you’ve taken him to see an array of musicals, from the much-loved classics to the inventive modern musicals. every time, you glance at him hoping for any reaction. he always leaves the theater saying ‘it was good.’ only one musical has managed to make him crack a smile: The Muppets (the movie ver.)

Tendou: another boy with Quality Taste. is a hardcore stan of any musical by Team Starkid (also loves that they’re all on Youtube). makes so many references to them but nobody else understands. will yell ‘TIGERFUCKER TIGERFUCKER’ out of the blue

Shirabu: thinks that La La Land is Peak Taste. got angry when tendou showed him a video of ryan gosling scenes in the movie but it’s all replaced by barry, the bee from Bee Movie. now La La Land is ruined because he keeps on remembering ‘you like jazz?’ in barry’s voice

Semi: tells you that he just doesn’t watch musicals but he secretly had such a Les Miz phase. writes enjolras x reader fanfics and his longest one was 200k words. if he hears anything that vaguely sounds like ‘do you hear the people sing’, a tear will fall out of the corner of his eye

Goshiki: was looking for slime tutorials one and stumbled on ‘not hamilton just a 2 hr slime tutorial’ y’all kno what i’m talking about and watched the whole thing. was disappointed that there weren’t any slimes but is now into hamilton

Akaashi: knows and understands the peak performance quality and biblical philosophy of Jesus Christ Superstar. doesn’t tell anyone about it though because they all assume its all church music. ‘it’s not’, he sobs. ‘it’s more.’

Bokuto: akaashi recommended Jesus Christ Superstar to him and he watched it, thinking that he’d see jesus playing an electric guitar. he was very disappointed and sulked about it for a week. LOVES disney musicals though

Atsumu: was one of those kids who would look up the Harry Potter Puppet Pals videos on youtube and stumbled in to A Very Potter Musical. ever since jk rowling’s snake side came out he began accepting that fan musical as canon. likes to piss rowling off by posting screenshots of the musical and saying its from the movie

Osamu: the Disney fan but with Quality Taste. loves Hunchback of Notre Dame, Princess and the Frog, Prince of Egypt, and Anastasia (the last two aren’t disney but animated musicals). cries at the sound of Phil Collins’ sultry voice.

Kita: is in love with Phantom of the Opera because his grandmother loves listening to it. he’d sing THE ENTIRE SOUNDTRACK pretty much every day until his teammates catch him singing in the locker rooms while they were changing AND NAILING ALL OF CHRISTINE’S HIGH NOTES LIKE ITS NOTHING

Terushima: doesn’t like musicals so his friend recommended that he watch The Guy Who Didn’t Like Musicals by Team Starkid because of the crackhead humor. watched Robert Manion perform and ending up going on google and searching ‘does watching men move their hips real nice make me bi?’

Koganegawa: y’all are gonna be surprised but this one’s a hardcore Wicked fan. has watched all of the different castings of it. he loves to imitate Elphaba’s iconic ‘FIEEEEROOOOOOO’ line in the showers and records it, just to see if he’s close to how it sounds onstage. has Idina Menzel’s autograph

Futakuchi: bitch does nothing but roast everyone else’s musical tastes. hamilton? ‘wow, mainstream much?’ dear evan hansen? ‘psshh, basic.’ be more chill? ‘think you’re edgy or something?’ the greatest show? ‘what are you? five?’ his favorite musical is actually Cats

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu!! headcanons #hc's for funsies #haikyuu!! characters + their fave musicals #i watch a certain amount of musicals #and i thought this would be fun #don't mind me lowkey dragging some of y'all's musical tastes #feel free to download

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skvaderarts · 3 years ago

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Hiraeth Chapter 51: Summation

Masterlist can be found Here!

Chapter Fifty-One: Summation

Note: I had to cook dinner, so I forgot to upload this until 11 pm. I also forgot that it was Wednesday. Just like how I forgot it was one of my friend’s birthdays today. YIKES. My bad hahaha! Check the end-of-chapter notes! Hope you had a good day!

(-~-)

Varying degrees of confusion overtook the entire room as everyone present attempted to try and figure out what was going on. Aside from Magnolia and Lucia, everyone there had heard a great deal about Morgan from the time that the young summoner had described his harrowing ordeal up north, but none of them would have ever expected that she would appear before them, especially at a time like this. And as strange as this all seemed to be for them, it was apparently even stranger for the young summoner.

Standing just a foot or two from her now as he attempted to help her with her bags, she shooed him away, assuring him that she was perfectly capable of handling them on her own. She’d carried them all the way from where she’d been starting to the car, and she’d made it up all of the stairs in front of Magnolia’s house. This would be a snap in comparison.

“Really though, when didja get those wicked tattoos? They had to hurt like hell, right? I mean, how much of your body do they cover, anyway?” Morgan sat her bags down by the side of the stairs, eager to get them out of the way of the walking path. No need to cause anyone to trip. She then looked around the room at the rest of the occupants, nodding to herself as she seemingly considered something. “Sorry I fell out of contact, V. I know you were probably worrying about what happened to me. There was a lot going on back then.”

It occurred to V at that moment that he was wearing a long sleeved V neck sweater. She couldn’t see most of them, only the ones on his wrists and hands and the ones visible around his neck. She was in for one hell of a surprise in more ways than one. They had so much to catch up on despite the fact that it had only been about three years since he’d last see her. Where had that kind of time gone?

A small smile spread across V’s face for a split second as he leaned against the wall, folding his arms around himself. There was still a small part of him that couldn’t believe she was actually standing here in front of him again. She’d certainly gotten taller in the time since he’d last seen her. Not by much, but she had been so very short when last they’d met. Their height difference had always been comical to him. “Likewise. And please, think nothing of it. In all honesty, that is probably more my fault than yours. It’s a bit difficult to mail a letter to someone who is completely transient.”

Nero chuckled to himself from the other side of the room. “Yea, he kinda ran off and joined the circus or something like that. It probably does make it kind of tricky to track someone down when they don’t have an actual address. I don’t even understand how they paid him.”

Morgan blinked in surprise before bursting into hysterical laughter, leaning over to rest her open palms on her legs. She shook her head before looking up again, making momentary eye contact with V. The moment she saw the soft red blush that had spread across his face and the poor job that he was doing to hide it, she started to laugh again, this time even harder than the last time. “You know what, I’m not even surprised. So you joined the circus, hu?”

“As a matter of fact, I did not. It was a traveling theater. There is a distinct difference.” V’s blush deepened as he became visibly embarrassed. Still, he’d be lying if he said that he didn’t find that response from Nero entertaining. After all, he knew that he was only joking. They had discussed this previously, and he was honestly pleasantly surprised that his brother remembered what he’d been up to during that window of time.

“Oh, you're totally right, V! One of them doesn’t have animals, right?” The sarcasm was evident in that statement. Was it possible to roll your eyes by speaking alone? Because if so, she had just done it. “So, I can’t help but notice that you're not the only one in the room with that fancy hair color anymore… Care to introduce me?”

For reasons that he couldn’t place, V’s entire brain ceased functionality as soon as she said that, unable to do much in the way of forming meaningful thoughts. Obviously, he knew that they were his relatives, but it hadn’t occurred to him until just then that he’d never introduced them as such before. Well, at least not as a group. He was genuinely surprised by how staggeringly uncomfortable he now was, especially when he barely understood why. Perhaps because she knew he had previously been an orphan?

“Yes, you're quite right. I should.” V gestured towards Nero, finding that it was probably more simple to start with him than it would be with his uncle and father. They took the same amount of introduction, but he had the feeling he knew which of them she would ask the most questions about. “The one you just spoke to is Nero. He’s my younger brother.”

Blinking in surprise, she nodded, giving the youngest descendant of Sparda a thumbs up. She then returned her attention back to V. “Cool. Good to see you’ve got someone in your corner now. Different moms or dads in the equation? If that’s not overstepping.”

“They have different mothers, yes.”

Morgan and V both looked over at Vergil, both seemingly surprised to hear him speak. He had been so quiet up until then that it was actually jarring to see him speak. When she looked back over at V, he gestured towards the older man, nodding in confirmation of what he assumed she had probably just figured out from that statement. “This is my father, Vergil. The one standing next to him is his brother, Dante. My uncle. And I believe you’ve already had some form of communication with Magnolia.”

“Is she your aunt or something like that?” She inquired, clearly noting the lack of a family resemblance. She then lingered on Vergil for a long moment in a manner that the Darkslayer couldn’t quite place. There was some emotion there that seemed familiar to him, but he genuinely couldn’t place the origin of it.

V pondered the question for a moment before nodding slightly, his head tilted somewhat to one side. He didn’t really know how to explain her relationship to him. After all, they were not related, but that didn’t really matter to him in much the same way that he imagined Lady and Trish not being related to Dante didn’t change anything. The only problem was that they didn’t have that kind of relationship, either. Perhaps something more familial, but not in a sibling sort of way. “Something more than that, but not by any blood or marital bonds.”

Magnolia blinked in surprise. She was clearly taken aback, but in a good way. And then that state of surprise instantly migrated to something else entirely. She was genuinely flattered, but she had to admit that the feeling was mutual. It was hard to place her finger on it, but V did indeed mean a great deal to her. She’d spend every moment since she’d helped bring him back from the space beyond death worrying that he would return there. She genuinely did care about him, and she was glad to see that he did, too.

Dante’s pupils dilated a few centimeters at the statement, a staggering amount of serotonin rushing to his brain as he seemed to physically process the fact that one of his nephews had actually just called him their uncle. It was true, after all. He was indeed their uncle… but he was certain that he’d never heard one of them actually say as much, and he was honestly expecting Nero to be the first one to ever bring it up. He felt a sudden urge to lay down. Or, at the very least, sit down. Something he did immediately.

Continuing to look at them both, Vergil joined his younger twin on the couch, seemingly pleasantly surprised that his eldest son had actually mentioned their relation to him and not just their names. He would not have objected if he had, either way, he was taken off guard by his son’s sudden moment of transparency. Morgan had clearly earned his trust.

“Nice to meet you all.” She said with a soft but pleasant smile as she looked at each of the people that he had just introduced. Especially you, Nero. Us annoying little siblings have to stick together, you know?”

“I think I like her, V,” Nero said, making a sound somewhere between a scoff and a chuckle. She reminded him of Nico in a way, except much less overtly chaotic. Well, at least so far. She had kicked a dude off of a truck and down a mountain to his probable death as a young teenager. That was pretty hardcore.

“And speaking of annoying siblings…” She made her way across the short space between her and Bren, only to pull her leg back and kick him full force in the shin. He yelped and hopped up and down, her foot clearing finding its mark with devastating force. She folded her arms across his chest, shaking her head as he regained his composure, clearly dissatisfied. “Brenowin Linquist! Do you have any idea how much trouble you're in right now? My High School graduation is tomorrow! What the hell did you do this time?!”

“Using the first and last name, hu? Looks like I’m dead already and I just don’t know it.” He shrugged in embarrassment, clearly genuinely ashamed of his actions. Morgan never yelled. She got excited, but it was rare for her to raise her voice in anger. “I thought you said you hated that preppy school full of rich kids and that you weren't even going to that graduation ceremony in the first place.”

“Oh, I’m not. But you still would have made me miss it if I wasn’t planning on not going.” She shook her head and sat down on Magnolia’s stairs. She seemed to watch everyone silently for a moment before shrugging and

“You know what? That’s a good point. I’m sorry about all of this. It’s my fault. Again. I really hope you can forgive me for it one day.”

Magnolia’s brow furrowed. “Wait… your graduation is in late September? That doesn’t seem quite right. I’m surprised that your school has a graduation ceremony at all.”

The young woman nodded in agreement. “Normally it would have been in June, but then Redgrave City happened and the parents of almost a third of the school died or went missing, so they decided to push it back and have us come back in September if we still wanted to do it. Guess it would have been a major downer to watch like half of the students and faculty cry hysterically on the stage, and they just have to keep up appearances at all costs, ya know?” She shrugged nebulously, but it was obvious that there was some sort of history there. None of them were going to ask about it, however. Especially not Vergil. He was too busy trying his level best to will himself out of the room, the reality of the indirect (and somewhat direct) results of his actions weighing down on him like a tin can in a hydraulic press. He really had done that to them, hadn’t he…

“Rich kids aren’t allowed to show that they have feelings. The school taught us that much. They would have probably waited to tell us our families died just so that it didn’t interfere with our test scores if the timings had coincided. The school has a reputation for having the best test scores or whatever. But the disaster just missed the testing period so they didn’t need to.” Bren folded his arms, shaking his head. He certainly didn’t miss that damn school. He had her beat by two years, but that didn’t mean that anything was different. The same teachers that taught his sister had probably taught him.

“... Why not go just to spite them? They probably say you leave and are expecting you to stay away, sure of their victory against you. I get the distinct impression that they weren't very welcoming to you during your time spent there.”

Everyone in the room turned and looked at V like he’d just grown a second head. That was something that they genuinely would have expected to hear come from Vergil’s mouth. And Vergil seemed to agree, his interest clearly piqued. It seemed that even V had his moments. It was almost humbling to know that he too felt this way about how others acted towards him from time to time.

“I get the feeling you're speaking from personal experience?” Bren said, raising an eyebrow. He seemed genuinely shocked that V had said that. He didn’t seem like he was that passive-aggressive, but then again, they had just met and he was basing that assumption entirely off of how quiet he was and how meek he seemed to be. It wouldn’t have been the first time that he was wrong.

“You would be correct,” V said simply, looking down at the floor for a moment. It hadn’t occurred to him until then that he’d never really told them anything about his teenage years. Everything that had happened between his childhood and the time that he’d met Morgan was difficult and not a topic that he discussed lightly. Perhaps one day, but not in front of a stranger, and certainly not right now. This wasn’t the time.

Realizing that this had the potential to become an incredibly uncomfortable conversation, they decided to change the subject. After all, they had more pressing matters to attend to. V’s curse and the situation that Morgan had unfortunately found herself in were going to be their top priorities. And it seemed that the easiest way of fixing both of those problems was to get rid of their pressure and go after Belial. At this point, it was the only thing they could do. But how to go up against an opponent that they couldn’t find or effectively do battle against? This was going to be tough, but they had been through tuff before. They could do this. They just needed more information and an actual plan.

“By any chance, are you the ones that everyone is talking about on the news? Because you look like them, and ya kinda look like you just got out of a fight. No offense.” Morgan chuckled to herself as shook her head. V just attracted crazy people and trouble like a moth to a flame didn’t he. “Everyone is saying that you keep showing up to save the day during these huge disasters. Were you there during the Redgrave incident? And as for the graduation… I just might. You make a good point.”

“Whatever brings you satisfaction,” V said in an almost sinister tone that took them off guard. Nero shook his head slightly and laughed to himself. Sometimes he forgot that V could be an utterly terrifying force of nature when he wanted to be. Perhaps it was best that he kept his older sibling away from a school filled with spoiled, rude brats. But somehow he had the feeling that V had prior with exactly that sort of peer group. That little peek into his past had revealed quite a bit, and now he could speculate. It would explain his lack of interest in social interaction. Children could be cruel.

“Actually… yea, you're not wrong. They’re talking about all of us. They’ve just never seen everyone at once. We kinda turn up to get rid of the demons during stuff like that.” Dante said casually. There was no point in hiding it. She was right, and they didn’t have time to waste on mysteries. “Me and Vergil weren't at the station just now, but Nero and V were. And Lucia. And… um….” He didn’t know the slightest bit about Flora. In fact, her name escaped him at the moment. Had they even met before? She’d been at V’s house the entire time, so he couldn’t be sure.

“Flora. I’m Flora. Don’t worry about me though. I’m with her” She said pointing at Magnolia,” And not with them. Well, I’m with them, but we're not related or anything. I just came to town to help out about two weeks ago. Field studies and all that. You know how it is. Or maybe you don’t. Look I don’t-” She stopped abruptly, deciding to chew her gum instead of saying more. Everything that had just happened had completely destroyed her will to live. She wasn’t good at introductions. At all.

V kicked himself internally for forgetting to mention Lucia. She’d been right there, after all. He just hadn’t really known what to say. “Lucia is an old friend of Dante’s. She’s not related to any of us, at least from what we know.”

Lucia nodded, giggling to herself quietly. If they’d only known. She was not, in fact, a descendant of the Dark Knight Sparda. But her mother and Dante and Vergil’s father had been close for years. For all they knew, it could have very well turned out differently should he had not met Eva. She couldn’t say. She only had her mother’s stories to go off of, and she didn’t particularly want to know those stories. Too much personal information, especially if something more substantial had occurred.

He looked down at his arm, noticing that he’d been rubbing it idly for a few minutes now. V wasn’t entirely sure what had made him notice, but he was inexplicably drawn to it all of a sudden. And when he did look at it, he felt his blood run slightly cold. He’d been gone from the house for entirely too long.

“Perhaps it is best that we head to my house. It would be a better place to discuss this… “

Noticing the slight hint of worry in V’s voice, Vergil nodded. It was best that they take both of them somewhere more secure. Well, all three of them, actually. They could keep a better eye on them all if they were in one place. “Yes, I believe it is time to give Magnolia her house back. We have matters to attend to.”

(-~-)

I’M BACK, EVERYONE! I’ve missed you all, but I am so very glad that you talked me into taking a little break! I didn’t see your wonderful messages until now, and I just wanted to say that I genuinely adore all of you, and your kindness was very much needed and appreciated. Your encouragement and compassion meant the world to me, and I’m happy to say now that I’m okay and ready to keep writing! From the bottom of my heart, THANK YOU! I’m excited to see you all again in the comments and on Friday! Take care!

#Hiraeth #V #Dante #Vergil #Nero #Lucia #My OC's #My DMC OC's #DMC

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animeraider · 4 years ago

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My Kevin Gilbert Story, and my latest single.

As some of you know I’ve had a few brushes with the “big break” that many in my line of work crave. I was signed to a major label in the early 1990s, and the record I turned in was shelved. The label wanted me to be the “next Michael Penn” and by that point not even Mr. Penn was interested in that, let alone me. I had three songs picked up for a movie, which was never released. I got out of my record contract and signed with another label, releasing an album that included 5 songs from the one that was shelved. The label put no money behind it. I had a big hit in 2009 and signed a European distribution deal, which fell apart when the married couple who ran the business fell into a messy divorce. I sold thousands and thousands of records in Eastern Europe – which were being sold by pirates. It took several years to get that fixed.

I had an audition that everyone felt I was a lock for to play keyboards for a Japanese band that had a huge following. My flight to the audition was supposed to be September 12, 2001. I actually watched the plane I was supposed to board land as it was the last flight grounded. I’ve done some engineering and performing I don’t get to tell anyone about – the NDA’s are pretty strong. One of my songs became the theme to a German Television show.

But let me tell you the story of a relationship I almost had with a multi-Grammy-winning star who soared high and made it further than I have, whose song I have made a cover of and released as a single today.

So where to begin. First of all, yes, I knew Kevin Gilbert. No, we weren’t friends, but we were colleagues and classmates. We performed together a few times – all of if school related. That’s it. Oh, and he invited me to a jam session he was going to have once and I turned him down. I’ll get to that.

Believe it or not, I have to tell this story starting in the middle. There was once a band called Toy Matinee. I loved that band. Clever songs, well written melodies, a sense of darkness and a sense of fun. It was a band that me and my roommate Max could agree on and we cranked that album loud and often. We went and saw them live at the Troubadour in Los Angeles, and were about 10 feet from the stage. This is NOT the live album released in 1999, but I can tell you they rocked the place that night. Played almost every song from the album, and did an encore of Elton John’s “Funeral for a Friend/Love Lies Bleeding” that smoked.

A great night.

Now I jump into the past, to tell the tale of the UCLA Synthesizer Ensemble. It was the brainchild of Professor Roger Bourland, who at the time was only in his 2nd year as a professor at the school and would later become dean of the department. He searched out the most rock and roll musicians in what was mostly a stuffy classical music department. Me. Dave Koz. Joel Harnel. And this kid named Kevin. The five of us took another student’s source material and arranged up a musical. Straight musical theater and full of schlock, and all performed on synthesizers. We eventually put on four shows, with the five of us in the orchestra pit. I wrote the show-stopper ballad and a Latin inspired piece. I hate to say it, but I no longer remember what everyone else did, although I remember Dave mostly for his EWI playing and Joel for multiple reasons – including the fact that he wrote and arranged all of the drum parts.

I knew Joel fairly well – we had played together a few times and he was even more rock and roll than me, with more experience. Dave Koz was, even then, Dave Koz. The only saxophonist I had met up to that point in my life who was better than me. We had played in jazz bands together but he was already a rising star. When he beat me for the gig with Richard Marx’s touring band his career just took off – but all this was before then. I was one of Roger Bourland’s students – in fact, I had been in the “test” classroom when he had auditioned for his job.

I barely knew this Kevin kid. I was constantly getting his name wrong – for whatever reason my brain had him wired as Kevin Anderson.

My only real interaction with him outside of this 12-week experiment was down in the practice rooms. Many of these rooms had pianos in them and on any given day you could hear Mozart, Brahms, Chopin and all of the other usual suspects. I would go and write my own material and be pounding out rock and roll. Kevin did that too. Once while in the middle of the writing process for the musical he came into my practice room while I was working on a song in the style of Elton John. He invited me to a jam session the next Tuesday he was going to, and I declined. Tuesday was when MY band practiced, and as their lead guitarist I needed the practice.

That was the end of it. After the musical was over we all drifted our separate ways and for the most part didn’t run into each other again. I ran into Dave once at a music festival in San Francisco and he introduced me to Clarence Clemmons, which was pretty damned cool.

By now you’ve figured out that Kevin was Kevin Gilbert. Congratulations. I hadn’t. For many years to follow I would remember him as Kevin Anderson.

Now I’ve told you all of this so that you understand that this is long BEFORE Max and I went to see Toy Matinee in concert. I became a fan of the band without knowing that Kevin was its leader. I was ten feet away from him, performing for an hour. I had performed with him myself.

I didn’t recognize him. Nothing clicked in my brain that this was the same guy. I didn’t put two and two together. I rolled for my intelligence check and got a one.

Kevin Gilbert would go on to a solo career, win seven Grammys for his work with Madonna, be part of the driving musical force behind Sheryl Crow’s first album, become one of the founders of the Tuesday Night Music Club, and become one of my songwriting heroes. The man could paint a picture with very few words and his musical ability was enviable.

And then he died; a victim of his own vices. I’m not going to go into that here – I know nothing at all and can shed no light on the subject.

Several years later I relocated to San Francisco with my family. I discovered the band Giraffe once I was on their home turf, and of course discovered the fact that Kevin Gilbert had been their leader when he was a teenager. BEFORE I knew him. Giraffe was a pretty damned good band that had come so startlingly close to making it big – their albums are worth hunting down and they did a fantastic live rendition of Genesis’ “Lamb Lies Down on Broadway” (the full album mind you) that is lots of fun.

I was looking for a recording studio for my second album when I ran across a man named Steve Smith who owned a recording studio down the peninsula from where I was living. In his bio, he briefly mentioned that he was the drummer for Giraffe. Awesome. On his web site of the time if you dug in a little bit there was a bio of Kevin Gilbert, and he talked about the brief time he spent at UCLA.

Parts of the story looked and felt awfully familiar to me. Smith talked about the musical without mentioning the name, and again, it felt familiar. Me being slightly brave, I wrote an e-mail to him to ask what was the title of that musical and that I might have been involved in it. He confirmed it for me.

Holy crap.

All of the pieces started falling into place then. The rehearsals, our discussions about piano playing, that I went to one of his shows and failed to recognize him? The fact that I think he invited me to come join the FUCKING TUESDAY NIGHT MUSIC CLUB and I didn’t even fucking notice!?!!?!!?!!?

I’m an idiot.

Actually, in looking back at the timeline I don’t think he invited me to join TNMC. That came a couple of years later – I think. I’m never going to know for certain. If he had told any of the other members I don’t know about it. I’ve exchanged about a dozen words with one of the other members over social media but we certainly don’t know one another.

I wonder if he saw me in the audience that night and laughed. I will never know. I can tell you there is an album version of that night you can listen to and/or buy. A then-unknown Sheryl Crow played keyboards in the band, dressed up like a dominatrix biker chick. When I found out about that later I was amazed – I didn’t recognize her either.

I’m an idiot.

Nick D’Virgilio of Spock’s Beard played drums. I don’t remember the name of the bass player but what I remember is this man with the thickest eyebrows I have ever seen in my life. Marc Bonilla played lead guitar. Oh, the people I could have met.

I never did work in Steve Smith’s studio. I no longer remember why.

When I was working on my third album in my newly built home studio I recorded a number of covers and one of those was Kevin Gilbert’s “Tea For One”. It’s a fantastic song of unrequited love and missed chances told from start to finish in only a few dozen words. I have no idea if he would have liked what I did to his song – he had a wicked sense of humor that I can recall now but I never got to know him on a personal level as a songwriter, which was my mistake. I could have but I was so focused on myself in those days that even if the overtures were made I probably didn’t even notice.

I recorded the song in what I called "Garage Pop" during those days. A bit uneven, imperfect vocals - what you might get from a band practicing in their garage instead of a polished studio version. If you want that, I recommend hunting down his version.

But I recorded “Tea for One” just the same – it’s a great song and I’d like to think I gave it some justice – even if it doesn’t come close his version. It was on the original version of my third album "The Long Goodbye", which I released myself, but was cut when the album was moved to digital streaming services (In all fairness, I cut 21 songs from the original release – which was a 2 CD set).

My music career has been dark for several years, but it got jump started in 2020 in the middle of the pandemic and I’ve been revisiting a lot of my unreleased work since, and of all the covers I did this is still my favorite. I am releasing it now, in tribute to a musician I admire and could have called friend if I had just paid a bit of attention.

The guy holding the roses was me, as it turns out. I had no idea.

+++++++++++++++++

For those of you with very long memories you should listen to the full single on Spotify, because I’ve thrown in a little bonus for people who remember the 1980’s band ASK. Just a little piece of a little ditty written by me, Kevin Donville and Ed Lee.

#Spotify

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flowerfan2 · 5 years ago

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Private Time - Chapter Two

Klaine, M, 4k, A03. Summary: One thing about being in quarantine with your grad school roommates... you hardly get any private time...

Wow, the reaction to this fic has blown me away. Thank you so much to everyone who reblogged and commented. It’s wonderful to feel the Klaine love.

And since you asked so nicely, here is chapter two!

Chapter 2

Kurt Hummel prides himself on being able to survive just about anything, from small town bigots to drama school divas. But this quarantine thing is really getting to him.

It’s not that he has any problems with his roommates, far from it. He’s known Rachel since high school, and his fondness for her more than balances his aggravation. Sweet and goofy Sam became part of their trio of friends last year when Kurt had thought about starting a band, and Sam had shown up at the audition. While the band didn’t take off, Kurt will never forget Sam’s rendition of “Nothing On But The Radio.” Priceless.

But then there’s Blaine. Even thinking about the guy makes Kurt go weak in the knees. It’s not like Kurt to be so affected by a pretty face, even one peeking out from under wet curls as he scoots down the hall after his evening shower with just a towel wrapped low around his hips. Kurt prides himself on his restraint when it comes to opening up to the possibility of romance, but with Blaine, it has been a challenge.

It started with that damn a capella benefit Rachel dragged him to. As if he needed to spend an evening watching preppy kids grinning at each other while they sang poorly re-arranged pop tunes. “It’s for a good cause, Kurt,” Rachel had argued. “And it’s not just the college groups. Everyone at the university can participate. I would be performing, too, if I wasn’t saving my voice.”

And so an hour into a dreadfully dull evening of twenty-somethings trying to relive their high school musical glory days, Kurt had his first experience of nearly losing his mind over Blaine Anderson. Amidst a sea of mediocrity, Blaine came on stage and performed Sondheim’s Not While I’m Around without accompaniment. Kurt felt like he was coming apart. He was so wrecked that he left the theater immediately after Blaine’s performance and spent the rest of the evening stalking around campus, furious with himself for losing his cool.

That night while his roommates were still out, Kurt indulged himself in a way he hadn’t done in ages. First a lavender scented bubble bath, then a long solo session in between fresh, clean sheets. It was okay to fantasize about Blaine Anderson, he was just a guy on a stage, Kurt didn’t know him from Adam (and he was way, way hotter than Adam with or without his Apples). Kurt found himself humming “nothing’s gonna harm you, no sir” halfway through and didn’t even censor himself, reveling in the thought that his fantasy Blaine would protect him from all the demons of the world.

After that, Kurt felt like he saw the guy everywhere – ducking out of the campus coffee shop, running in the early morning chill, giving Sam a warm hug before they parted ways after class. Kurt had sort of known that Sam was bringing Blaine to see his performance of Macbeth, but had managed to block it out until afterwards, when Sam trotted backstage with Blaine on his heels. Blaine’s shy smile and soft blush when he offered Kurt his congratulations had rendered him nearly speechless.

And then the unthinkable happened. They had held off on finding a fourth person to share the rent for several months, mostly because Rachel thought that sharing their single decent shower with two guys was as much as she could stand, but money was tight for all of them and it seemed silly to let the room stay empty. Before they had even had a chance to advertise the vacancy Sam came home one afternoon with Blaine, announced that he had found them a perfect flatmate, and started giving Blaine the tour. Kurt had nearly choked on his skinny margarita.

There wasn’t much time to dwell on his crush before the quarantine, but now, Blaine is everywhere. Kurt tries to count how many different black polo shirts the man has, just to prove himself he could look but still retain a modicum of brain power, but he fails miserably. Instead his eyes keep sliding down to where Blaine shirt’s is tucked around his slender waist, just before his red pants curve over the best ass Kurt has ever seen.

When Rachel announces her private time plan Kurt immediately knows what she is up to. If Sam and Blaine knew her better, they would have caught on faster as well – since when did Rachel Berry mind if anyone heard her sing? It’s a lame cover-up, but before Kurt can open his mouth and say so, he realizes how useful Rachel’s plan could be. So he stands up, smooths his hands down over his pants, and high-tails it upstairs to the privacy of his room before his pants get even tighter.

That first night, Kurt doesn’t have any intention of participating. He’s feeling rather superior, if he is honest with himself. Suddenly randy Rachel and lack of self-control Sam may be taking care of business, but Kurt Hummel doesn’t need any of that. He puts on his headphones, pulls out an old voice lesson journal, and goes through some exercises himself. Rachel may have been joking about the need for private rehearsal time, but Kurt is nothing if not career focused, and he hasn’t had much of an opportunity for honing his craft lately either.

After he finishes the exercises in his journal, Kurt gets out his phone and some earbuds – he’s got some vocal tracks on his phone which split the parts, the lead coming through on one side and the harmony parts on the other. Just as he’s finding the track he wants to start on and fiddling with the left earbud, which for some unknowable reason keeps falling out of his ear, he hears a long, low moan.

Kurt freezes, earbud dangling from his hand. It’s Blaine, that much is obvious from the direction of the sound, and from the fact that it seems to be coming from right next to him, where only a wall divides his room from Blaine’s. Somehow that one drawn-out expression of need has shot right through him, sparking through his entire body. Kurt feels light-headed and almost forgets to breathe.

Overwhelmed, Kurt panics. He scrambles to grab the noise-cancelling headphones and clamp them over his ears, and dives under his duvet. It’s too much, and it’s inappropriate to think about, but at the same time it’s impossible not to imagine. It’s Blaine, with his hand on his private parts, making that incredibly sexy noise just a few feet away from Kurt. Kurt is never going to make it through this quarantine.

By the next morning Kurt has regained his equilibrium. He spends most of the day firmly (but not firmly, Kurt thinks, bad word choice, sternly, yes, very sternly, god that’s hardly better, hardly, stop it, I’m dying, I’m being slain by my own internal monologue) telling himself that he is not going to participate any further in Rachel’s ridiculous plan. Tomorrow, their next scheduled private time night, Kurt will simply go for a walk. Walking is good for him, he could use the exercise and fresh air, and he doesn’t do it nearly as much as he should. He’ll even wear the new mask he made from a Prada dust bag (there’s no need to abandon style, just because there’s a pandemic).

But on Thursday night when he tells Rachel he’s going out she cackles at him like she’s auditioning for the Wicked Witch of the West, and points with a shaking finger to the window. It’s raining, a veritable deluge. Kurt growls at her and goes upstairs.

Fine. It’s all fine. He can do this. It’s nothing to feel shameful about, even if everyone in the house knows he’s doing it. They’re all doing it too.

Kurt lights a candle (sandalwood), finds some of the expensive body lotion he saves for special occasions, and makes himself comfortable. Soon his thoughts are wandering to how a certain someone looked this morning, sitting out on the back porch with Sam. They had both been fooling around on their guitars, and Sam was teasing Blaine about how his hair kept falling into his eyes. Sam had even reached out and pushed an errant, gel-free curl away from Blaine’s face…

That should have been Kurt. He would have waited until Blaine finished playing a gentle love song (“the things you do endear me to you, ah you know I will… I will”) and looked up expectantly at him, a hesitant smile on his face. Kurt would have leaned close to Blaine, seeing his long lashes flutter as he softly pressed his palm to Blaine’s smooth cheek. Kurt would have threaded his fingers through Blaine’s dark hair, and they would have laughed together, barely audible to anyone else, and then Kurt would have pulled Blaine in for a breathtaking, awe-inspiring first kiss.

Kurt climaxes with an unexpected grunt, and then presses his face into his pillow. That was embarrassingly fast, even for a fantasy. He’s going to have to do better. At least he needs to get to the part where he can grab Blaine’s ass in his hands and give it a good squeeze. Who knows what kind of noises Blaine might make when his ass is fondled just right. Kurt might even have to think about sliding those tight red pants down over Blaine’s luscious curves, moving his hands up and down and around, letting his fingers explore and press in…

Kurt realizes he’s getting hard again, and much to his dismay, he soon goes for round two like a horny teenager.

It rains all day on Friday, and Saturday morning is equally gloomy, ruining their plans to make lunch and take it to campus for an appropriately socially distant picnic. Sam comes up with an alternate plan that involves bartering for a packet of yeast (the sister of one of his rugby mates thought ahead and purchased large quantities from a restaurant supply store) and making homemade bread, and Blaine sunnily agrees to bike to the other side of town to pick it up. Kurt volunteers some of his masks to use as a trade, and by noon, they are all assembled in the kitchen, ready to start their day’s project.

Kurt has made bread a million times (okay, maybe just two or three), so they all look to him for guidance. It turns out to be way more fun than Kurt had expected, even more so when he keeps catching Blaine looking at him shyly from under those ridiculously long lashes. When they all start giggling at the mess they’ve made and Blaine reaches out and tries to wipe flour off of Kurt’s nose, Kurt thinks he’s never been happier.

That night they eat their bread with the remains of various cheeses and drink more wine than Kurt had thought they had left in the house. He’s feeling loose and safe in his skin when Blaine flops down on the couch next to him, holding out a bowl of strawberries. “These go great with the bread,” Blaine says, which is what they’ve been saying about everything they have eaten that night.

Kurt doesn’t argue and pops a strawberry in his mouth. “Yeah, they do.”

Blaine focuses his big brown eyes on Kurt, and then leans in and draws his finger just along the edge of Kurt’s mouth, making him shiver.

“Powdered sugar,” Blaine explains, and then shuffles even closer to Kurt on the couch. It’s like he’d done earlier today, but this time his voice comes out in a caramel draped baritone. “You’ve got a little here, too.” Blaine touches a fingertip to Kurt’s cheek, and then then blushes furiously and lets his hand drop.

Kurt can’t resist, Blaine is simply too enticing. Blaine’s done all the hard work anyway, his blush speaking as eloquently as any Shakespeare sonnet. “I think you’ve still got flour in your hair,” Kurt says, reaching out and twining a curl around his finger. It’s just as soft as he imagined, and Blaine lets out a little sigh in response and leans his head into the touch.

Kurt takes a deep breath, his whole body trembling. Blaine’s eyes rise to meet his, and Kurt cups Blaine’s cheek and pulls Blaine in for a kiss.

It’s better than his fantasy, of course it is. Blaine tastes of strawberries and wine, his stubble scrapes ever so gently against Kurt’s skin, and he’s warm and alive under Kurt’s hand. They move closer on the couch, knees and thighs and shoulders pressing against each other. Blaine’s tongue darts out to trace Kurt’s lips, and then Kurt opens his mouth and the kiss deepens, harder and gentler in turns, until Kurt forgets that anything else exists in the world except for this.

When they finally part, breathless and wide eyed, Rachel and Sam have disappeared. Kurt glances at the clock on the wall and sees that it’s after eleven. Blaine’s glance follows his, and then he beams at Kurt, a mischievous look dancing in his eyes.

“It’s private time,” Blaine says, and Kurt blinks at him, momentarily confused. The earnest expression on Blaine’s face sure doesn’t look like he’s interesting in putting an end to their not-so-solo activities, and either does the hand he’s holding out to Kurt.

“Care to accompany me?”

#klaine #klaine fic #glee #glee fic #kurt hummel #blaine anderson #my fic

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we-are-inevitable · 5 years ago

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Modern javid au: where they walk through their first (meeting, kiss, apartment, pets, kids etc). Also your writing are amazing.

ok i got carried away with this one again!! this is only the first part- i’m going to like,, get into their married life in the second chapter!

Rating: G

Warnings: Underaged drinking, recreational drug use (nothing major, just one scene)

Word Count: 2069

Read on AO3!

--------------------

They never dreamed they would be here right now, sharing their tenth wedding anniversary on the balcony of their apartment, sipping wine in the moonlight while reminiscing about the years that had flown by. Curled together on the floor, their legs dangling out from underneath the guardrails, just like they did when they were stupid teenagers in love.

Ten years had changed them. Beaten them down, bruised them, made them work for their love and their relationship- but the bad times? They had been over for so, so long. David could remember all of their bad firsts, like their first fight, the first time they ever made each other so angry that they both broke down and slept in different rooms for a week and a half. The first time that they had ever shared grief, first time they’d been harassed in public, first financial struggles, first funeral they’d attended together. Those firsts were what truly had pushed them to be better, to become better, to finally put their differences aside and cooperate together instead of trying to work without changing themselves.

The bad times were what pushed them further, but the good times were much better to remember.

“Hey, baby- remember how hard I embarrassed myself when we met?”

“Oh, darling, how could I forget?”

--------------------

Their first meeting had been nothing short of embarrassing. David had been studying in the library when, all of a sudden, a shelf to the left of the table he had sat at toppled over, causing a loud boom to sound in the library. David looked up with wide eyes and a startled look on his face, meeting the gaze of another guy his age. David, who had only been at the school for a week at that point, instantly recognized him. They shared their english class together; David was pretty sure his name was Jack.

“...Uh, hiya,” Jack let out a high, nervous chuckle, attempting to look cool standing next to the mess he had made, and David couldn’t help but laugh.

He remembered standing up, dog-earring the page of the textbook he was reading, and taking a few steps toward Jack. “Looks like you could use a little help.”

It had taken the two of them almost an hour to sort the books like the librarian wanted them to, but luckily they both had an aid hour to spare. They talked idly about anything and everything, and that was the first day that David had been invited to sit with anyone at lunch

--------------------

Their first hang-out session had happened about two weeks later. David had been pretty well integrated into the group by then- he had a permanent spot at the lunch table next to Jack, which made his heart flutter more than it should have. And if he thought that was a lot, then he certainly wasn’t ready for the heart pounding, nerve wracking thought about seeing Jack out of school- but, of course, that came sooner than later. That Friday afternoon, Jack and David had met up after school, walking the opposite direction of David’s place to get to Jack’s foster mom’s theater. He remembered Jack mentioning that they didn’t have a huge apartment, since he had a few other foster siblings, but said that the theater was a much more fun place anyway. And really, it was. They spent hours sitting onstage and talking, after Jack had given him an extensive tour of the place, and David had even met Jack’s foster mom, Medda, for the first time. That afternoon had held a lot of firsts, but what really hung around in David’s mind was the fact that it had been the first time Jack had ever looked at him, smiled, and called him “Davey.”

--------------------

Their first kiss happened before their first date. Race had invited David to his place for a “small get together” which, with the help of the other guys, ended up being pretty big. It had just been their friend group, plus some girls that some of the guys had invited. It wasn’t really a party, but it wasn’t exactly just a regular hang out session, either. For one, David knew that a few guys had been smoking weed in one of the back rooms, which was very evident when they came back in. He didn’t care, but politely declined more than a few offers to take a hit. Secondly, the amount of alcohol had doubled from usual. Everyone had gotten a little tipsy, even David, which meant he was far more grateful that Jack had been kind enough to invite him over to stay that night.

The party had dissipated a little after midnight, leaving only a few stragglers behind- Race, Albert, Katherine, Jack, and David, as well as a few others that David wasn’t really close with. Everyone had gotten into a circle, playing a classic game of truth or dare, when Albert smirked. “Davey,” He had said in a sickening sweet voice, obviously a little on the far side of tipsy. “I dare you to… Kiss Kathy,” He had said, causing laughter to erupt from the rest of the group- excluding David and, more surprisingly, Jack.

David stared at Albert for a moment, took a drink from his bottle, and shrugged. “I’m gay,” He said calmly, for the first time in front of the group. Everyone went quiet for a moment, before Albert got a wicked grin on his face.

“Okay, then. Davey, I dare y’to kiss Jack. He’s bi, so it shouldn’t be a problem.”

“‘Ey, dipshit, I ain’t the only other not straight guy in this group--”

“Yeah, I know, but you’s the first one I thought of!”

David really wanted to back out, but he had been boasting earlier that he was never one to back down from a dare. It had been a stupid decision, but he really, really wanted to fit in, and if that meant losing his dignity over a dare, then so be it.

David had been sitting on the other side of the circle from Jack, so they slowly maneuvered their way to the middle. Jack seemed nervous, but oddly enough, David felt his nerves melt away after seeing the flush on Jack’s cheeks. “You sure you’re ready for this, Kelly?”

“Bring it on, Jacobs.”

The kiss felt like fireworks, like bombs were exploding within David’s chest. And, judging by the surprised noise Jack made low in his throat, Jack was feeling the same way. They heard the rest of the group count to five, signalling the end, but Jack just wound his arms around David’s neck, and David did the same thing to Jack’s waist.

They didn’t pull away from each other until Race threw an empty water bottle at Jack, which bounced off of the side of his face.

--------------------

Their first date officially happened the day after the party, when they woke up lying next to each other in Jack’s bed. They went to an art museum that day- partly because David was shocked that Jack, the group’s resident artist, had never been, and partly because the admission price was discounted for students all weekend.

Both of them still had their ticket stubs from that day, nearly sixteen years later.

--------------------

College was a huge change for the both of them. They both went to school in different parts of Manhattan- with David getting accepted into Columbia and Jack getting accepted into the New York School of the Arts- but still saw each other every day. After dating the majority of senior year and staying attached at the hip all through their last summer before college, it just made sense to find an apartment and live together. They were able to find a horrid, run-down little place that was almost equidistant from both of their schools, and, sure, it may not have been the prettiest, but it was /something/. It was cheap, and it was theirs.

They spent a while getting it cleaned up, and though the furniture was mismatched and it was barely big enough to hold their friends, it was home for the next four years. That apartment had been everything they had wanted. It was their safe haven, their little paradise in the city, their life that was perfectly their own. There had been some skeptics- mainly David’s parents, just because they thought it was too soon for the two boys to move in together, but regardless, they supported David’s decision.

--------------------

Judging by the proposal, that decision had worked out. Four years had passed since college began, and five had passed since Jack and David first got together. After the whirlwind of working their asses off for a part time paycheck, graduating and finally getting their dream jobs, the two of them had pooled together their resources to find a better apartment. They moved into a much more decent one, and though it was nothing glamorous, it came with a view that Jack was in love with.

David had walked into the apartment after work one day, stopping in his tracks as he saw Jack sitting on the floor in front of the large window overlooking the New York skyline. It had been one of Jack’s days off, so David had expected him to be in the guest room that they had converted into a studio, but Jack was locked in place, watching the bustling streets of New York.

David smiled wide at the image. They had been in the apartment exactly one week, and Jack was still mesmerized by the smallest details.

When Jack heard David’s footsteps, he stood up, arely getting any time to welcome his boyfriend home from work before David was pulling him into a soft, gentle kiss. “Well, hello to you too,” Jack murmured as David pulled away.

David just smiled at him, his hands resting against Jack’s hips. “I missed you,” He said softly, before gulping. He had been planning something. Something big- something that Jack wouldn’t even know about for another month, but this felt perfect. This, right here, holding the man he loved in their new home, their dream home, was better than any five star dinner, better than any elaborate plans. “Jackie?”

“Yeah, baby?” Jack asked softly, a grin on his face. God, he wouldn’t be expecting this. Wouldn’t be ready.

Regardless, David started speaking before his mind could catch up with his mouth. “I love you,” He said sincerely, a megawatt smile making its way to his cheeks. “I love you so damn much, Jackie... I-- I never, ever dreamed that we would be here, that we would be living in a place like this together,” David said softly as he walked over to the nearest table, shrugging his bag off of his shoulders. “You look so damn happy here. I’ve never wanted anything more than to make you happy like this,” He continued speaking,slowly opening up one of the zipped pockets. He pulled out a little box, carefully holding it behind his back as he walked to Jack, who had a loving-but-confused face. “Five years ago, I fell hard for you, Jack Kelly. I fell for the way your eyes light up when you see a dog, I fell for your obnoxious snorting when you laugh too hard,” David paused, smirking as Jack shot him a glare, “but most importantly, I fell for how kind you are. How caring and loving and selfless you are. You make me the happiest man alive, Jack,” David said slowly, gulping.

He could feel himself tearing up as he watched the gears turning in Jack’s head, before Jack suddenly gasped, a hand coming up to cover his mouth. “Davey, Davey, oh my fuck, are you--”

“Quiet down, will ya? Just let me finish,” David said with a chuckle, a wide grin on his face. He let out a loud laugh as Jack flipped him off, but Jack was smiling so wide and had tears in his eyes and David knew he was making the right decision.

Slowly, David pulled the box out from behind him, hands shaking as he lowered himself to one knee. “I love you, Jackie, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you... Will you marry me?”

David didn’t know what he was expecting, but he was not expecting to get knocked over by the sheer force of Jack throwing himself into David’s arms.

#newsies #newsies musical #newsies modern au #newsies fic #fansies #david jacobs #davey jacobs #jack kelly #javid #javey #writing #ask a jac !#jac writes

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enthusiasticmusicalquotes · 5 years ago

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QUESTION OF THE DAY #13: a) What was the first musical you ever loved, and b) What was the musical that got you invested in internet theatre culture? It’s okay if they’re the same.

MY ANSWER: a) Dreamgirls followed closely by Hairspray thanks to their movie adaptations, but as far as stage productions go How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying was the first one to really inspire me, b) probably Wicked

SUMMARY OF ANSWERS: so i realized that question a inspired a wide variety of answers, the most popular being Wicked, Hamilton, Les Mis, and Sound of Music. for question b, we had a lot of similar answers, the most popular being Hamilton (around 16/37). other popular ones for question b were Heathers, Les Mis and Wicked. that said, there was a wide variety of other shows too. read them all below the cut!

Anonymous said: Qotd: For the first question either wicked or be more chill (I was 13 and in a stem school with no theater program) and maybe heathers for internet culture.

Anonymous said: i think what got me into musicals would be matilda! my family went to west end while i was then completely clueless about what musicals were so watching matilda like. opened my eyes to musicals! though the first musical i really got into would probably be Hamilton? generic, i know but it was all people were talking about then and the fandom was considerably better back then so i got into it!

Anonymous said: Les mis. I saw the National tour and I fell in love with both the show and musical theatre in general. And Hamilton was what got me into the online community. I was bored and stumbled on it and got sucked in.

zoueriemandzijnopmars said: First musical I ever loved was the studio 100 Doornroosje (Sleeping Beauty in Dutch) musical, it was proshot and I had the dvd (the soundtrack is on Spotify btw). The musical that got me started to get me into internet musical culture was Hamilton.

Anonymous said: a) the first musical i loved was mama mia, and b) the musical that got me invested in internet theatre culture was les mis.

Anonymous said: I would say Wicked for both, but I think Hamilton also contributed significantly to getting me into internet theater culture!!

Anonymous said: first musical i loved was into the woods, but (surprise surprise) hamilton got me into internet theatre culture

vordemtodgefeit said: a) wicked was my gateway musical b) also wicked but I really only engage with a fraction of the fandom so, naturally, it’s les mis

thatbookshelf said: The first musical I was seriously obsessed with was a musical of a Dutch children's book series called 'Kleine Ezel' (Little Donkey) when I was about five years old. Exactly two years ago my friend got me into Hamilton which brought me into the musical theatre fandom.

swoopingsilver said: First Musical I loved: Jekyll and Hyde First musical that got me on the Internet: Dear Even Hansen

gaysnekchild said: The first musical I ever loved was Be More Chill, the musical that got me into musicals was Heather's

Anonymous said: If we're sticking to live theatre, the first musical I loved was Hamilton. If we're counting movie musicals, it was The Sound of Music by far. Hamilton was my gateway into internet theatre culture but Starkid, ITH and Hadestown are what got me stuck here.

galactic-greens said: Probably Mary Poppins, we had this dvd player that I'd take on road trips and just watch it over and over. But what really introduced me to broadway was Hamilton

a-terrible-pun said: question of the day: the sound of music was the first musical i loved, and les mis got me into the musical internet culture.

Anonymous said: Hamilton

Anonymous said: im not ashamed to say that hamilton was the first musical that i actually got into and got me interested in musical theatre, but there are some other ones like musical movies or something that i watched as a kid that i liked too

a-walking-meme said: I don't remember if the first musical I loved was Grease or Mamma Mia bc I used to watch those with my mom but the one that got me involved was Book Of Mormon ✨

Anonymous said: a) Grease b) Hamilton

Anonymous said: Hairspray was the first musical i’ve loved and wicked got me into internet Stan culture

elicardashyanpetermaximoff said: A) Heathers B) Rent

Anonymous said: I grew up watching Jacob and the Technicolor Dreamcoat and other movie musicals. However, I wasn't really aware of musical theatre until I was fourteen, and that was because of Les Mis. Les Mis made me fall in love with musical theatre, and I really began to understand and appreciate the art form. The musical that got me invested in fandom was Anastasia. I've loved this show since 2017, and I've met some of my dearest friends because of it.

Anonymous said: 1. Wizard of Oz 2. Be More Chill

sixthstringserenade said: The first musical I ever loved was Les Miserables. And the show that got me invested in theatre culture was either Avenue Q or POTO. Let’s just say Ramin Karimloo was my gateway-drug to theatre.

Anonymous said: a) Hamilton, b) Newsies

Anonymous said: The first musical I loved was les mis (it was my high school's musical my freshman year) but the first musical that really got me into musical theater culture was next to normal, which is still one of my favorites

sheepskinjacketclan said: i guess technically the first musical i loved was singin in the rain, since it was probably one of the first films i ever saw and its a classic in my family, but the first stage musical i ever loved and the thing that got me into musical theatre was Wicked when i was like 10. It sort of got me into internet theatre culture, if you count finding friends by commenting your obnoxious pre pubescent opinions on every wicked related youtube video in 2010 as internet culture.

Anonymous said: Wicked for both!

bwaycpunk said: To answer the Q: I ADORED 1776 when I was 10, but the prom musical is literally the reason I'm on Tumblr.

Anonymous said: The Wizard of Oz and the Sound of Music have always been my favorite movies/musicals since I was a little kid, but I think Hamilton or Heathers first got me involved in the online fandom...

pinkwelshdragon said: a) The Lion King in London was my first Broadway show, I saw it when I was very young so I don't remember much. b) I'd heard about Hamilton when it first came about, though I didn't listen to it since it wasn't interesting to me at the time. My friends convinced me to listen to it in 2018 and I fell in love with theatre. It was around the same time as when I was performing in my school's production of Beauty and the Beast, so that helped too.

broadwaybabe1000 said: Ok this is embarrassing but first show I loved is Elf because it was the first 1 I performed in and my first show that got me invested in internet theatre culture is Hamilton.

queenlmno said: So this first show was probably the Sound of Music movie, but first theater show was Newsies. Internet culture was either Newsies or Matilda.

squeak-and-pip said: Hamilton It’s a really basic answer I know

impastomuse said: A) Sunset Boulevard in 1996, and B) Hamilton

nightofheart said: Does the Sound of Music movie count as first musical loved? If not, Hamilton, and Hadestown for the second question :)

#qotd #not a quote #side note: never feel embarassed about what show got you into theatre! everyone is valid

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deans-baby-momma · 5 years ago

Text

Rebel Without A Cause-Ch 19

A/N: The NSFW document has been updated to include this chapter.

After the events in Delaware, Maggie went back to work at the newspaper. Jo was still miffed that Maggie was now dating Dean and had practically cut all ties with her co-worker and former friend.

The rest of the staff were still as warm and welcoming as before though, and so life went back to normal. Well, as normal as it could be when you are exclusively dating an up and coming rockstar.

Maggie had to get used to media speculations on who the mystery woman was that had tamed the lead singer, seeing as there were no more obnoxious stories coming from the band's late-night shenanigans. TMZ had snapped a picture of her and Dean at the airport but thankfully, her face had been obstructed so it was still a bit of a puzzle for those who didn't know.

Monday morning came and Maggie arrived at her work cubicle to find a note to report to Mr. Singer's office immediately. She put her bag and personal items in her desk and made her way to the oak door with his name splashed across it. As soon as she knocked, she heard a gruff "Come in" and anxiously turned the knob.

Taking a deep breath, Maggie walked into the editor's office. She knew she had been lax on her last couple of stories, not going into many details about the performance or the production of the shows. She had mostly just written her personal opinion for each piece and went on her way, in favor of submitting something just to get back to Dean. She feared that her lack of effort was going to ultimately cost her the job.

Mr. Singer's office was what Maggie would call collective chaos. Papers littered every surface of the room, scattered among empty takeout boxes and bottles of water. She didn't know how the man kept any semblance of order, let alone publish the weekly editions of Ft. Garrison News.

She cleared her throat and spoke to the man behind the equally cluttered desk. "You wanted to see me?"

"Huh?" Mr. Singer grunted then looked up from his computer. "Oh yes. Ms. Fitzgerald. Yes, we need to discuss a few things.

"I'm sorry, babe. I can't," Maggie expresses through the phone. "I can't afford to lose this job, you know that."

"I know,' Dean responds with a defeated sigh. "Not going to be the same without you, though. You’re what I look forward to now. My performances are going to suck!" Dean knew he was sounding like a whining kid but it was true, he always seemed to execute better shows knowing she was in the back waiting for him- she was his muse, his dream. But he also knew that her career was just as important so he sucked it up and relented. "Can I at least call you after the shows?"

"I'd be upset if you didn't," Maggie tells him. "No matter how late it is, I expect you to call me and tell me all about it."

"What if I'm in need?" Dean asks playfully, already resigned to the fact that for at least his next two gigs Maggie wouldn't be there. "Can we have phone sex?"

Laughing at the request, Maggie replies. "I'll do one even better. We can Skype sex."

"Woman, you’re going to kill me," Dean wails through the earpiece.

Without looking at the ringing device, Maggie grabs her phone as she logs out for the day and grabs her bag from her desk.

"Maggie Fitzgerald speaking."

"So, Dean says you're stuck with work for the next two shows?" Maggie smiles as she recognizes Rayne voice.

After the events of that night in Milton, Rayne and Maggie had become best friends, calling and texting each other constantly. The fact that they had become more intimate than usual best friends wasn't even an afterthought. It was as if it were totally normal for friends to eat each other out and fuck their respective boyfriends’ side by side.

"Yea, well, when the bossman practically tells you to shape up or ship out, you kinda gotta shape up if you want to keep your job."

"That sucks," Rayne says and Maggie can visualize the pout on her friend's face. "I'm not going to have anyone to talk to."

"Oh, I'm sure you can find someone to talk to. Backstage is usually full of eager people," Maggie chuckled. Her amusement died out as a thought came to mind but she shook it off. "You could always chat up Crowley." The smile on her face returned as she heard her friend scoff through the device.

"Yeah right. That man is as entertaining as a hermit crab," Rayne said. "I'm sure we can find plenty of stuff in common."

Maggie and Rayne continued to discuss the reason Maggie was missing the next two shows as Maggie drove home.

That night, Maggie laid in bed. She knew Dean was up on that stage, rocking and singing, dancing, and making all the ladies in the place swoon. Her earlier conversation with Rayne came back to mind; specifically about the eager people who would be backstage to party and celebrate with the band. All the women that would be willing to praise and applaud them, especially Dean. He was the frontman, the one everyone seemed to swoon about.

Maggie hated to admit it but she was fearful that without her presence, Dean would resume his old persona. The persona where he would pick a woman out of the crowd and enjoy her company, with or without the others. Would he overlook the fact that they were in a relationship in lieu of some random pussy? Would he realize that he was actually missing out on the indulgence of a random fuck? Is he buried deep inside someone who wasn't her at this very moment? Maggie fell asleep waiting for a phone call that may or may not come.

Maggie's heart broke as she walked into the room to see Dean laying on his back with a blonde bouncing on his cock. His hands were gripping her hips so tight, Maggie was sure the girl would be sporting bruises in the shape of his fingers for days. He had his head thrown back, eyes closed and his mouth hung open, grunts and groan passing through his pink lips.

"Fuck, Suze! You ride my dick so good," Dean pants out and Maggie can feel the tears swell and overflow her eyes, running down her face. How could he do this to her? How could he just shrug what they had off so easily? Maggie watched as Dean began thrusting up into 'Susie' and her head started ringing. And continued to ring. Squeezing her eyes shut to get the image of her boyfriend screwing some stranger out of her head and to try to stop the ringing, Maggie opened her eyes slowly when there was only the ringing left in her head. No moans and mewls in a feminine voice, no grunts and groans from Dean; just a constant ringing.

She was dazed for a moment as she took in the sight of the ceiling tiles above her, her bedroom ceiling tiles. She was in bed crying into her pillow over Dean sleeping with someone else. The ringing stopped only to start again and Maggie realized it was her phone making the sound. It had all been a dream!

Wiping away the tears and clearing her throat, she hoped her voice didn't give away the fact that she'd been crying. "Hey, babe," she answers after seeing Dean's name on the screen.

"Hello, gorgeous," Dean's voice croons through the phone, the smile evident. "Did I wake you?"

"No," Maggie lies. "No, I was just uh, editing my story for the high school theater program I had to cover. How was the concert?"

"Eh, it was okay. I missed seeing you in the crowd. I miss you, baby," Dean says with a sigh of longing. "Can I see you? You up for a Skype call?"

Maggie chewed on her lip at his request. She knew as soon as he saw her face, he'd know she had lied about being awake. He would see that she'd been crying and then she would have to voice her doubts and fears.

"Um, just let me go to the bathroom real quick and then I'll Skype you, okay?"

"Make it quick, sweetheart," Dean laughs. "There is someone here that's really missing you."

Maggie hangs up and rushes to the bathroom to wash the evidence of her tears off her face, wondering who he could be talking about. Was he with Sam and Rayne?

Opening her laptop, Maggie sat with her legs crisscrossed on the bed. She opened the Skype app and scrolled down to click on Dean's handle. She watches as the call connects and Dean's handsome face fills the window, a wide smile making itself known. "There's my beautiful girlfriend!"

Maggie blushes, she will never get used to being called beautiful by the sexiest man on the planet.

"Hi," she answers with an equally wide smile. "So are you alone?" she asks as she takes in his bare shoulders and chest. Why was he shirtless if he was hanging out with his brother and her best friend?

"Yep. All alone," he confirms. "Came straight back to the room after the concert."

"If you're alone, who were you talking about missing me?"

Dean gets a wicked gleam in his eyes and answers, "Little Dean misses you."

Maggie laughs as she watches him change the viewfinder on the phone to the camera on the back. His arousal is evident under the blanket. His hand comes into view and she gazes at her screen while he palms his erection and wraps a hand around his covered length. "There isn't anything little about him," she states.

Dean comes back on the screen and he has a smirk on his face. He knows he’s well-endowed and he knows what it does to her.

"Baby, I'm so fucking horny," he whines through the computer speakers. "I need a release. Will you help me?"

Maggie pulls her bottom lip into her mouth, biting down on it. "And just how do you suppose I do that?" she teases.

"Show me that pretty little pussy, baby. Let me rub one out while watching you do the same."

Quickly undressing and positioning the computer between her legs, Maggie gets comfortable. "How's that?" she asks, making sure not to glance at the smaller window on her screen; concentrating on the view of Dean's hand rubbing up and down his cock.

"Fuck, baby. That pussy looks so delicious. Touch your clit. Rub circles on it, make it throb for me." Maggie grants his request, touching her sensitive button and shivering at the sensation. She could feel her wetness increasing and her walls flutter around nothing. Dean's groans through the speakers bring her attention back to him.

She can tell he lubed up his hand with saliva before beginning to thrust his hips into his hold. Watching him jerk off causes Maggie to need more, to need to be filled so she withdraws from her clit and reaches lower, teasing her entrance with her fingertips. "Goddamn. That is sexy as fuck. Finger yourself, baby. Slide those fingers into that hot pussy, Mags. Get yourself off with your hand."

Maggie pushes her fingers into her body and immediately feels the coil in her abdomen tightening. She begins fucking herself with her fingers at the same pace Dean's hand moves along his hardened dick.

"Fuck I miss feeling that tight cunt squeezing me," Dean pants out. "Tell me, baby, are you gonna cum? Is that pussy clamping down on your fingers yet?"

"Uh-huh," is all Maggie can utter. She is so close to an orgasm. It's been a while since she's done this but the sound of Dean's voice and what he is saying brings her to her end quickly.

"Cum with me, Mags," Dean says and she obeys, soaking her fingers and palms as she sees him shoot his load, a gob of his release hitting the screen. "Oops." Dean chuckles. "Will definitely need to clean that off before I use my phone again."

Maggie laughs with him, removing her hand from between her legs and wiping her juices off with a towel.

"Well that was fun, but my god Mags, I miss you so fucking much!" Dean says after they have both cleaned up and are dressed again, enjoying the afterglow of a good orgasm.

"I miss you too, Dean," Maggie admits, feeling the ache deep in her chest. She knew now that she loves and is in love with Dean but prior experiences have her frightened to admit it out loud. Love hadn't worked out for her in the past.

When they both begin to yawn, they decide to hang up and get some rest. As they say their goodbyes, Dean utters something that sends Maggie reeling.

"I love you, baby," Dean sleepily declares as he ends the call, leaving Maggie to stare at the now darkened screen. 'Did he?' she thinks. 'Did he just say he loves me?'

Maggie is in the audience of the local community theatre observing the cast as they act out a scene from Shakespeare’s ‘Taming of the Shrew’ when her phone vibrates in her pocket, notifying her that someone had sent her a message. She quickly checks the device to see that Rayne has sent her a video. Knowing she can’t watch it at that time, Maggie slips the phone back into her pocket and continues watching as Tranio and Lucentio discuss how Lucentio can win Elena’s heart before Grumio returns with detailed stories of what happened at the wedding of Kate and Petruchio.

By the time the curtain drops at the end of the 5th and final act, Maggie is anxious to get out of the theatre so that she can see what Rayne had sent her. As soon as she gets into her car and is settled, she pulls her phone out and opens the message. The video begins playing and Maggie sees it is the backstage room that she and Rayne usually hang out in while the guys are on stage. It’s obvious by the lack of people in the room that Rayne is alone. Maggie watches as the camera pans around the room, She sees Meg and Cas in a discussion with a group of people, Benny standing to the side talking to the stage crew. She briefly speculates where Dean is but before that thought can get out of control, Maggie sees Rayne’s pretty face fills the screen. She turns the volume up to hear what her friend is saying.

“...the concert was good. Everyone enjoyed themselves but the after-party is a little quiet.” Rayne laughs and smiles up at who Maggie suspects is Sam. “I’m getting there, honey,” she says and then directs her attention back to the camera. “So I just wanted to let you know. Everything is good and you don’t have to worry about your man because well…” she turns the camera once again and Maggie sees Dean sitting by himself, looking down at his phone. “Let’s just say he’s occupied. And lonely.” Rayne sneaks up behind Dean and Maggie can see what he is looking at. There is a picture of her that he had snapped one day while they were out filling the screen. In the picture, Dean had said something goofy, causing Maggie to laugh and he had taken that opportunity to snap a picture.

Rayne once again directs the camera toward herself and smiles brightly. “Girl, we all miss you. When are you coming back? Love you!” Rayne blows a kiss at the screen before ending the video.

Maggie feels the tears well up in her eyes, knowing that Dean has apparently changed his philandering ways and instead was staring at her picture is just, so sincere. And after what he had said the last time they talked, it made Maggie’s heart beat faster. He did love her! Maggie decided then and there that she wasn’t missing any more concerts, even if she did have to look for another job. She wanted-needed-to be with her man.

@pink1031 @spnbaby-67 @winecatsandpizza @joseyrw @kricketc29 @tftumblin @markofdean79 @sandlee44 @michellethetvaddict @lyarr24 @travelingriversideblues-x @deanwanddamons

#dean winchester #SUPERNATURAL AU #dean winchester au #rockstar!dean #reporter!reader #rockstar!dean x reporter!reader #Dean x OFC #lil bit of angst #lil bit of fluff #whole lotta smut #smutapalooza #e'erybody be fucking #my second foray into AUs #deans-baby-momma #rebel without a cause #maggie fitzgerald #dean x maggie

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department-shoe-stud · 4 years ago

Text

A Series of Successful Pranks

Annie and Jay aren’t actually that bad at pranks.

They’re just godawful at getting away with said pranks.

1. The Pink Dust Bomb in Gambol and Japes (c. August, 1979)

“Okay, you know the plan, Pip?” Anna Louise looks up at her brother and nods, giving a wicked grin.

“Ready to go.” Jacob nods and walks up to the store owner, rattling off inane questions, while Annie ducks behind an aisle of Gambol and Japes’. She sets the jinxed box down and presses the timer. She quickly walks up to Jay and nods. He nods back, says goodbye to the owner, and the two quickly leave.

“Three,” Annie says, door closing behind them.

“Two,” Jay replies, turning back to look at the shop.

“One,” They say in unison, and fall into uncontrollable laughter as the inside of the windows of the store get covered entirely in pink dust. Customers come rushing out, coughing out pink dust and wiping it off their clothes, only for it to immediately suction itself back onto them.

“Jacob Leon and Anna Louise!” The siblings’ roaring laughter is cut short at the sound of their mother’s voice, and they turn to see her standing there, arms at her hips, fury in her eyes.

Jay looks down at his little sister. “Race you to freedom?”

Annie looks back up at him, then kicks his shin as hard as she can. “Every man for herself!” She turns and sprints off down the streets of Diagon Alley as her brother grunts in pain, and their mother scolds him.

Annie makes it around the corner of Gringotts before the pull of Accio takes her over and she falls on her back, being zoomed back to the feet of her mother and brother, looking furious and betrayed accordingly.

“...Hi Mum. Would you believe me if I told you Jay made me do it?”

Aoife O’Reilly was many things. A fool was not one of them. She didn’t believe Anna Louise for a moment.

2. The Jinxing of the Phillip Jones Brass Ensemble (c. May, 1980)

“Nobody saw us come in, right?” Anna Louise shakes her head as Jacob glances back at door, not trusting her lookout skills.

“Jay, I’m a hundred and forty-five centimetres tall. If someone say me sneak in, they deserve a better security job than a concert hall,” Annie says, crinkling her nose at the mere fact that this is the site of their next prank.

Jay crinkles his nose back at her and rolls his eyes. “This is gonna be wicked, I promise.” He peeks his head over the theater's seats and, upon seeing they’re empty, sprints down to the pit, Annie protesting as her short seven year old legs struggle to follow. Jay hops over the barrier, just barely sticking the landing, and grins up at Annie as she finally catches up, pouting down at him, winded. “Well, c’mon, Pip.” He turns back to the large brass orchestra all nicely set up before him as Annie grumbles and slowly climbs down the stairs.

“This is stupid,” She mutters, and Jay snorts, rolling his eyes as he takes out a wand.

“Is not.”

“Is too.” She eyes the wand, squinting and tilting her head. “Isn’t the school gonna know that you did magic outside?”

“They track the magic using your wands, which is why I took a spare from Charms. You’ll like Charms, Flitwick is grand.”

Annie nods, then squints. “Wait, are you sure?”

Jay nods, grinning. “Positive.”

Jacob was eighty-six percent sure. It fluctuated on a minute-by-minute basis.

“Now, watch this...” He grins, winks at Annie, and mutters a homemade jinx. A fine layer of what appeared to be blue glitter settles over each instrument. Annie looks up at Jay, underwhelmed, until Jay smirks, flicks his wand, and the entire orchestra begins loudly blasting ‘In the Hall of the Mountain King’. Annie slaps her hands over her ears, racing after Jay as they flee through the fire exit, setting off an additional alarm as Muggle guards begin to flood in.

~~~

“Good news!” Jay announces, strolling into the parlor with a toothy grin. “Since no Muggles were present. the Ministry let me off with a warning.”

Annie lets out a whoop as Mum O’Reilly raises an eyebrow at her husband, walking in after their son.

“Bad news?” She asks, and Papa O’Reilly turns to his son with a scowl.

“Jacob’s under house arrest for the rest of the summer.”

Annie boos. “Why would the Ministry do that?”

“They aren’t. We are.” Papa O’Reilly jerks his head up the stairs, and Jay stomps up them to his room.

“Papa?” He turns to his daughter, who look him dead in the eyes, and blows raspberries at him. He shakes his head, ruffles her hair, and walks into the kitchen, opening the window to let the family owl Scuddlebeak in.

3. The Great Magical Castlebar Stampede of 1981 (c. January, 1981)

“Being the amazing older brother that I am,” Jacob announces as he and Anna Louise march down Main Street with mysteriously rattling packages in hand, “I have decided to give you an amazing birthday present before I am inevitably dragged back to Hogwarts.” He sighs, pouting at his sister. She giggles, and shifts her box as it starts its escape attempt.

“I dunno, Jay. Making me carry my own present’s kinda lame.”

“No no, it’ll be wicked Pip, I promise.” She hums, scrunching her nose, and following after him as he turns into an alley. She gasps, and he shushes her as she stares, wide-eyed, at the array of magical beasts gathered in the small side street.

“How...?” Annie asks, breathless. Jay laughs, setting his package down and grabbing the box from her hands as well.

“I know a few people who owe me a few favors.” She blinks at him, and slowly grins.

“Did you get me a bunch of magical creatures for my birthday?” He laughs.

“No, we don’t have the space.” Annie’s grin immediately drops into a frown, and Jay claps his hands. “But! We’re gonna have fun anyway.” Annie cocks her head.

“How? Petting zoo?” He looks back down at her wide, hopeful eyes and laughs again, slightly less ecstatic.

He hadn’t expected her to be so about magical creatures. When had that happened?

“Ever heard of the Running of the Bulls?” She blinks, and turns back to the animals.

“Wait, really?” Annie gasps, looking between him and the Abraxans. He nods, and she slowly starts to grin as well, much to Jay’s relief.

“Really. C’mon Pip, it’ll be a gas.” She eagerly helps him with the ropes around the larger creatures, then excitedly helping him open the boxes filled with Puffskeins.

“Ready?” Jay asks, and Annie grins wickedly, nodding manically. Jay grins back, and blows a whistle. The noise startles the animals, and they take off running down Main Street. Annie and Jay sprint out into the street to watch as people dodge out of the way of the animals. Most look alarmed, while others, the ones Annie recognizes as the other wizards and witches, look downright shocked.

“I should have figured.” Jay and Annie both freeze at the familiar voice, and turn to see their lovely neighbor Mrs. Finnigan and her infant son Seamus. Seamus is staring, transfixed at the animals as his mother stares at the O’Reilly children with disappointment.

“It was a birthday present?” Jay defends.

“Happy Birthday, Anna,” The witch says. “Sorry you have to be grounded on it.”

4. The Flying Sled (c. July, 1981)

“Are you sure this is gonna work?” Anna Louise asks Jacob, and he nods.

“One hundred percent positive.” Annie hums and looks down the slope. “I’ve been practicing. No one at school has suspected a thing.” Annie hums again.

“If you’re sure…” Annie says, sitting on the wooden sled and bracing herself. “Ready when you are, Jay.”

“Pip, this is going to be amazing.” He gets to the back of the sled and starts pushing. When he gets to the edge, practically sprinting, he jumps on and takes out his wand. As they barrel down the slope, he grabs his sister’s shoulder, and she looks back at him. He grins, and they reach the end of the slope, leading into the ramp. As they barrel off, Jay shouts, “Wingardium Leviosa!”

The sled shoots off the ramp, and the spell carries them. Annie lets out a whoop. “Jay, this is amazing!”

Jay laughs. “I know-” He starts, but his gloating is quickly cut off as the spell breaks, and the pair go hurtling down to the ground from nearly twelve meters in the air. The siblings scream, and hit the ground. Hard.

“Well… It could have been worse,” Jay says, and Annie glares at him as the healer casts Episky on her arm.

“How? How could it have been worse?” She asks, glaring daggers at him.

“We could have been farther from the house and Mum and Dad wouldn’t have heard us,” Jacob says, giving a shaky grin that is soon cut off by a loud ‘Ahem’.

“You’re welcome for that, by the way,” Their father says, staring at his kids with clear disappointment. “Honestly, Anna, I expected you to be smarter than this.” “It was Jay’s idea!” She shouts in her defense, and winces when the healer patches up the scratches on her cheeks.

“And when was the last time Jacob pitched an idea that didn’t go horribly wrong?” Their father says, and Jay shoots a glare at him.

“Joseph,” Their mother says, walking into the room and looking at her husband. “That’s enough. They’re already hurt, don’t humiliate them too.”

Annie looks down at her feet, shame all over her face, and Jay glares at their father, who stares back.

“Well, the cuts will heal, but there will be some nasty scars, unfortunately,” The healer says, and their parents thank him for his time. They walk out with him, discussing payment, and Jay scoffs.

“Honestly, can Dad get off his high horse for two damn seconds? Like he’s never done anything stupid,” He huffs.

“Can you go one summer without breaking me?” Annie retorts, and he looks back to see her pouting, taking the wind out of his sails a little.

“Sorry, Pip. I really did think I had it.” Annie shrugs, then looks up at him, eyes glinting mischievously.

“Practice more, and we’ll do it again next year, okay?” Jay grins at his little sister and winks.

“I’ll see what I can do.”

That next school year, Jacob went missing. Annie sat inside the whole summer, not looking forward to Hogwarts at all, and refusing to look at her scar. She wore long sleeves the whole summer just to avoid it.

Bonus (Because I don’t like leaving Annie on a sad note):

“You still owe me a levitating sleigh ride, you know,” Anna Louise says, smiling over at her brother as he lounges on his porch chair.

“Can’t a guy get a little peace and quiet? Merlin’s beard, I’m trying to tan here.”

“You’re going to burn,” Annie says, stealing his sunglasses off his eyes. Jacob squints at her.

“You said you didn’t want to do it until I practiced more,” He says after a while. “Being stuck in a painting stops you from doing that.”

“Well, I wasn’t stuck in a portrait for years,” She responds, small smile on her face.

“Good for you. I don’t recommend it,” Jay mutters.

“I had plenty of time to practice my spells, too,” She adds, and smiles at the warm summer breeze billowing her hair out around her.

“...Is the ramp still up?” Jay asks, and Annie turns to him, grinning.

“Like I’d have the heart to take it down.” ~

They attempt the sled ride again, Annie casting the spell this time, and she loves holding it over his head that she managed to do it and he didn’t.

Jay likes to retort with the fact that she still crashed them into a bush and that was the only reason they weren’t more injured.

Annie claims she was aiming for the bush.

#More Anna Louise content!#My girl is back on her bullsh*t #and im Here to provide yall with the details #the O'Reilly siblings have two brain cells and it's been in the custody #of their mum since 1979 #hphm #anna louise o’reilly

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chyteawrites · 6 years ago

Text

Torn: Chapter 2

Story Summary: You start work as a make-up artist for The Umbrella Academy and meet two of the most handsome people you’ve ever worked with, both of them vying for your attention

Chapter Summary: After chapter 1, you go to dinner with one David Castañeda, learning more about him.

Chapter 2/?

Word Count: 1,594

Pairing: David Castañeda x Reader, Robert Sheehan x Reader

Warnings: None

A/N: Bless @superapplepie for encouraging me to write this and giving me all the feedback. And once I figure out how to do it, I’ll set up a masterlist so you guys don’t have to go searching for my stories.

Tags: @diianawonka (tag list is always open!)

After filming for the day had finished, I went back to the make-up trailer and put everything away before touching up my own make-up. I said goodbye to Rachel and Emmy before a knock on the door of the trailer caught my attention.

“I guess that’s for me.” I chuckled nervously. I opened the door to see David standing there, smiling when he saw me.

“Hey, David.” I muttered and blushed as I looked at him.

“Hey. You look great. You ready?” He asked, his voice soft and kind.

“Let me grab my jacket.” I told him and grabbed my jacket from behind the door, slipping it on and stepping outside with him.

“I found a little diner just down the road, if you want to walk there.” David said, his eyes focused on me.

“Sounds nice.” I smiled and walked beside him. He chuckled as I put my hands in my pockets, walking parallel to him, but with a few feet between us.

“You can walk closer to me. I don’t bite. Unless you’re into that kind of thing.” He looked at me and winked, biting his lip.

Oh God. Why’d he have to do that? I thought to myself, biting the inside of my lip.

“I guess your body heat could do me some good.” I chuckled nervously before closing the gap between us.

“Has anyone ever told you you have one of the most beautiful smiles?” David asked as we walked, the street lights shining on us.

“Oddly enough, you’re the second person to tell me that today.” I mused as we stopped in front of the diner.

“Who was the first?” He asked as we walked in.

“Justin.” I smiled and told him as we sat down.

“Sounds like him.” He laughed before our waitress came over.

“What can I get you two to drink?” She asked, flashing us a sweet smile.

“Can I get a water, please?” I said before looking down at the menu.

“Uhh, Diet Coke, please.” David told her, giving her a smile before turning his attention to me. “So, you have a degree in both cosmetology and theater tech. You worked with Emmy on Broadway. What else is there to you?” He asked kindly, his knuckles rapping gently on the table.

“Not much. I grew up in a smallish town with a brother and two sisters. My family is weird and blended.” I told him, his face full of interest as he listened to me.

“You have siblings? What do they do?” He asked, his chin resting on his hand.

“My brother is a little bit of a family disappointment. My sisters are still young.” I chuckled and smirked as I looked up at him. “What about you?” I added, taking a sip of my water.

“What do you mean?” David asked, his face turning from interest to shock.

“Well, you know enough vague information about me. I think it’s time for you to share some stuff, Mr. Castañeda.” I told him, leaning back with a wink.

“Well. I’ve got sisters. They’re pretty private, so I don’t talk about them much until you meet them.” He started, flashing me a sweet smile. “I was born in L.A. and moved to Mexico when I was a kid. I moved back to L.A. for high school.” He added and took a sip of his soda as the waitress came over to take our order.

“Can I just get an order of fries, please?” I asked nervously, fidgeting with my wristband under the table as he ordered his food. The waitress walked away from our table to put in our order and he looked at me.

“Are you sure that’s all you want?” David asked, concern in those beautiful brown eyes.

“Yeah. I don’t eat much.” I mumbled before looking up at him with a nervous smile. “Now, tell me. What inspired you to become an actor?” I asked to change the subject.

“The Matrix. I wish I could say I was kidding even a little bit.” He laughed and bit his lip.

“Fair enough.” I chuckled and took a sip of water.

The waitress brought our food and I laughed as he kept telling me about growing up in Mexico, my mind going crazy as he spoke Spanish. The way he smiled as he talked about his dad, family, and Mexico made him look like sunshine. Pure, unfiltered sunshine.

“Something on your mind?” He asked, his eyes focused on me.

“N-No.” I stuttered, my leg bouncing.

“I’ve known you for less than a day and I can already read you like a book. Tell me what’s on your mind.” He commanding, his voice low as his brown eyes almost drilled into my soul.

“I just like hearing you talk about Mexico.” I whispered.

“There’s something else. Something in your eyes.” He chuckled.

“I also really like hearing you speak Spanish.” I added with a sigh and hid my face in my hands.

“Oh yeah? Why’s that?” David asked with a knowing smirk.

“To tell you the truth, I’ve always been drawn to people with accents or that spoke other languages. I have been since I was a kid.” I explained, picking at a napkin on the table. “Plus your voice is so soft. It almost puts me in a trance.” I added as I felt heat rising to my cheeks.

“Well then I guess it’s a good thing I asked you to dinner.” He chuckled before the check came. I instinctively went to reach for the check before he grabbed my wrist gently.

“I can pay for my own food, David.” I told him, relishing in his touch for a moment longer than I should have.

“I invited you to dinner. It only makes sense that I pay.” He smiled sweetly and told me, setting my hand down.

“You don’t have to.” I protested as he stood up and walked to the counter.

“Too late! I’m already up and over here!” David called back with a chuckle. I scoffed and rolled my eyes as he flashed a huge shit eating grin. I looked up as he came back, his hand held out to help me up. I took his hand and gasped quietly, the same sparks that I felt with Robert filled me again.

I smiled as we walked outside he walked close to me. He kept talking about growing up and asking me about my family. I couldn’t keep myself from watching his smile widen as he spoke and listened to me.

“I love your smile. I don’t know if I’ve told you that yet.” I said as I walked backward, smiling as I looked at him.

“You haven’t, but thank you. But it’s definitely not as beautiful as yours.” David smiled as he blushed. “Just know I think you’re really amazing.”

“Oh, okay. Well, this is my building. Rachel and I are renting an apartment.” I explained as we stopped at building across the street from where the cast was staying.

“Can I walk you in?” He asked nervously.

“Sure.” I chuckled and lead him inside.

We walked up the stairs instead of taking the elevator, allowing us just a few extra moments together. Once we got to the door, I stopped and stood across from him, blushing as we said goodnight.

“I had a really nice time.” David said with a kind smile.

“Me too. Thanks for dinner.” I replied and looked him over one more time. “I guess I’ll see you at work tomorrow.” I added quietly.

“I’ll see you tomorrow. Have a good night.” He said and walked away as I leaned against the door, waiting until I saw him disappear from my line of sight before unlocking the door.

“So, how was your date?” Rachel asked with a smirk, taking a sip of her wine.

“It wasn’t a date, Rachel.” I huffed and hung up my jacket.

“How was the ‘not date’ then?” She asked sardonically.

“He’s so sweet, Rachel. His eyes are beautiful and I could honestly get lost in them. And he speaks Spanish.” I fawned as I changed into my pajamas.

“Sounds like someone’s falling in love.” She said in a sing-songy voic, looking over the back of the couch with a wicked smile.

“I am not!” I laughed and threw the cap of a bottle at her. “And even if I was, I have to give Robert a fair chance.” I said before taking a sip of water.

“Well, I know you and David is your type. Tall, dark, and handsome as hell. And Latino.” She chuckled with a wink. “And you always say Spanish men make excellent lovers.” She added.

“Maybe it’s time to test whether or not the Irish do too. I guess I’ll have to find out.” I laughed and patted her arm. “I’m off to bed, beautiful. See you bright and early.” I told her before walking to my room.

“What am I going to do?” I muttered to myself as I climbed in bed, thinking about the dilemma at hand. I’d had a wonderful evening with David. I felt like he knew me, just after a few hours of being together on our own. However, I had agreed to go to lunch with Robert and I owed him a fair shot.

“Plus, it’s not like either of them could possibly be interested in their make-up artist. Either way, this is going to be a long few months.” I sighed to myself before I started drifting to sleep, thinking about David and Robert.

#chynna writes #torn #torn: chapter 2 #david castenada #david castaneda x reader #david castaneda fanfic #david castaneda fanfiction #david castañeda fanfiction #david castañeda fanfic #david castañeda x reader #robert sheehan #robert sheehan x reader #robert sheehan fanfiction #robert sheehan fanfic #i write like shit but i really wanted to write this

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