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thevindicativevordan · 3 years ago

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Why isn't Nightwing a bigger deal? He has all of Batman's skills and Superman's faith in humanity and is arguably the most beloved hero in the DCU, but most people seem to know him either as the leader of the N̶o̶t̶ ̶J̶L̶ Teen Ttians or just Robin.

Thank you for asking me about Nightwing, I've been wanting to write a piece about him for a while now. The short version is that everyone who claims Dick becoming Nightwing was him "moving out of Batman's shadow and becoming his own man" is completely wrong.

Dick Grayson is a fantastic character, someone who saved Bruce Wayne in-universe both by forcing Batman to grow up a bit, and the countless times he saved Batman's life as his partner whether as Robin or Nightwing. Dick saved Batman in the real world as well, hard to believe but Batman was actually in danger of being cancelled due to poor sales early on. Enter Robin, a young daredevil audience stand in the creators hoped would get kids interested in reading Batman. And it worked! Sales on Batman doubled once Robin showed up which is crazy to think about, but Dick Grayson has always been a popular character. Cartoons like Teen Titans, Batman: The Animated Series, and The Batman only helped grow his audience.

Character-wise, Dick Grayson really does fill a number of crucial roles in the DCU. For Batman, Dick is proof that Batman is a positive force. Meeting Batman helped change Dick for the better, helped him heal after his parents died. With Dick, Batman can take comfort in knowing that yes, he has made a difference in the world for at least one orphan boy, which is all he wanted when he lost his parents himself. To the wider DCU, Dick is a friendly face who convinces others that Batman is competent and not a complete asshole. He took this kid in, trained him to be one of the best heroes the DCU has seen, and did it all out of the kindness of his heart. That someone like Dick can confront the evils of Gotham and not break means there's still hope for that city. As Robin, Dick has led the Titans and is an icon in his own right as The Sidekick, the original, the one every other Robin is built around copying or contrasting. The one all other superhero sidekicks are drawing on as a basis. As Robin Dick Grayson is very much on Batman's level.

Just not as Nightwing. As Nightwing, Dick has been a second rate Daredevil which means he's a third rate Batman (fully prepared to get hate for this but I've read and enjoyed the Miller and Bendis DD runs so I feel entitled to my opinion). A typical Nightwing run tends to go like this: Moving to Bludhaven (which is Gotham... but WORSE!), Dick Grayson usually enrolls in a pointless job we don't care about in order to provide some meaningless soap opera drama that doesn't go anywhere. Patrolling the city as Nightwing, he fights a variety of bad guys who are usually rather lame and unthreatening, with his big bad being a Kingpin knockoff called Blockbuster. Villains are fought, long running plotlines are set up, then everything is abandoned because it's Batfamily event time, and Dick has to run back to Gotham in order to play sidekick again. Usually his involvement is completely superfluous and it would've been better if the writer had gotten to opt out. By the time we finally get back to Nightwing's solo plotlines, the audience has usually ceased to care and the run gets cut short.

That's how Nightwing has been since the New 52 at least. Anyone who thinks that's "becoming their own man" is out of their mind. Dick is so thoroughly in Batman's shadow that he got shot in the head and spent a longer time as "Ric" which everyone fucking hated and sold like shit, than he did as Agent Grayson which was extremely well-received. Reiterating: Ric went on longer than Grayson because of a fucking Batman plotpoint Tom King wanted where Bruce was sad and cut off from the Batfamily because of Dick getting shot. Not just calling out King either, how many times was Kyle Higgins Nightwing run derailed because of Scott Snyder's crossovers? Or how about that entire run getting dumped to the side because Johns wanted to out Dick during Forever Evil, a Justice League/Lex Luthor story? DC has repeatedly made their contempt for Nightwing clear, he's Batman's sidekick still in their eyes, and he serves whatever story role the Batman writer wants.

Hell his best stories tend to have been the ones where he's not Nightwing. He was Robin in a good chunk of the Wolfman/Perez New Teen Titans run. Morrison really showcased his depth as a character when they wrote him as Batman, their time with Dick under the cowl was actually one of the first Batman runs I ever read, and no Nightwing run has ever matched it in terms of quality in my humble opinion. Scott Snyder's work with DickBats also was a high point for the character, showing Dick as competent and examining his relationship with Gotham and the Gordons. King and Seeley gave him one of the best comic runs with Grayson, a series where he wasn't even a "superhero" technically! When it comes to actual pre-New 52 Nightwing runs that are highly recommended where he *is* Nightwing, there's Chuck Dixon and uhhhhhhh... Tomasi's brief run before Dick became Batman? It's not exactly an overwhelming list.

Look there has been good work done with Nightwing, I'm not claiming there hasn't been. Tim Seeley wrote a great run with Nightwing Rebirth. Seeley fleshed out Dick's Rogues Gallery with cool new ones like Raptor, he brought back old foes like Dr. Hurt (why oh why couldn't you have brought back Flamingo too?), he gave Dick's world some character it solely needed. Bludhaven under Seeley is pretty much the only time I've really felt like it lived up to being Dick's city.

The problem with fictional cities is you have to put in the work to give them the character of real cities. You have to make the cities feel like characters in their own right. Gotham is the best example of this, it's a character all it's own, one that tells you a lot about Batman and his cast. In contrast Bludhaven is usually one of the worst. Any place that wants to claim to be worse than the city that is built over the gate to hell and gets wrecked every other month by the Arkham freaks has to really put in the work to compete. Simply put, Bludhaven typically fails utterly. There's nothing about it that makes you really buy it's worse than Gotham, I mean does anyone really think Nightwing's Rogues wouldn't get their lunches eaten by Batman's? No, no one genuinely buys that. When Bludhaven claims to be worse, it just comes across as tryhard, an attribute that does end up telling you about Nightwing in unintentional ways.

So Seeley didn't do that. Instead he created a city built for a hero like Dick Grayson. Someone who is bright and flashy, but does have an element of darkness to him. Someone who loves the spotlight, but often uses it to obscure. Seeley turned Bludhaven into Las Vegas, and that was the fucking best concept for Bludhaven I have ever seen, it makes so much sense. Las Vegas is the "Entertainment Capital of the World" and isn't that the perfect city for a hero who got their start working in the circus? Isn't the aesthetics of the gleaming casinos, the glamorous sex appeal of the performers, and the spectacle of the shows, all being used to cover up the seediness of mob bosses meeting backstage perfect for Nightwing? It's so utterly unlike New York City, yet Las Vegas is still dangerous, it's got a crime culture all it's own. Seeley used it to great effect, as did Humphries during his brief run, and I will always be pissed that DC didn't continue to use it. That should have stuck around and been the definitive look for Bludhaven.

How Seeley's take on Bludhaven was treated feels like a small scale version of how Nightwing in general gets treated. Whenever creators pitched ideas for him, if editorial thought there was potential to break big, they asked for those ideas to be repurposed for Batman instead. Anything big or good gets repurposed for Batman or tossed to the side so Nightwing can go back to his default: having irrelevant adventures in a city that is supposedly worse than Gotham but can't live up to it. Just like how Nightwing is supposedly better than Batman but never gets to show it. Goddamn it's so frustrating seeing his potential get wasted like that.

The Nightwing book should be one of DC's most ambitious books in terms of storytelling. You can go from traditional superhero stories, to romantic soap opera, to spy stories, to crime noir, to horror, to cosmic adventures, and ALL of them would fit because Nightwing is someone who has a foot in both Gotham and Metropolis. He's got friends everywhere on every team, and has been a hero longer than most Leaguers have at this point. No reason DC should still be afraid to let him loose and insisting on hewing close to what Dixon established almost over 30 years ago is only holding him back. At the very least get him some better Rogues, why the hell didn't he get to keep Professor Pyg? That's Dick's villain not Bruce's! Bullshit that they didn't let Dick keep him. Hopefully Flamingo comes back, with a slight revamp I think he'd make a great reoccurring Nightwing Rogue.

Luckily it does look somewhat like Nightwing fans have reason to be optimistic. While Taylor isn't to my taste, DC clearly views him as a "big" writer, and that they put him on Nightwing says a lot. Taylor has been selling well so far, so hopefully he gets to tell his story, hilarious that even he lampshaded having to write Dick running over to Gotham for another tie-in after Taylor's big opening arc was all about Dick committing himself and his money to Bludhaven. Scott Snyder is apparently working on a Black Label Nightwing book which will explore how he's a different detective than Bruce. The Gotham Knights video game has him as one of the main stars, and while Titans is... controversial, it's one of the most popular streaming shows and Dick is the main character. There's a lot of content coming that features him in the starring role, and that will only help his star rise further.

For the first time in, well, ever it feels like DC may be serious about elevating him. Time will tell if it pays off, but I for one choose to be optimistic that the 2020s will be a turning point for Dick Grayson where Nightwing becomes hugely popular in his own right. Not just as Batman's sidekick.

#nightwing #dick grayson #batman #gotham knights #titans #dc comics

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realm-sweet-realm · 3 years ago

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The Spotlight, chapter 1

Hi, everyone. This is a story from the Step Right Up AU, which was started by @bertrumstrousers and is being worked on by several others including myself.

This story will start with the first transformation of the ink machine, and show how it all began to go off the rails. There will be two chapters. I hope you all enjoy it!

---

It was a performance like any other for the Colossal Wonders troupe, and Norman was pumped for it. Performing always put him in a good mood. As the performer before him finished up and Norman’s name was announced, he adjusted the Bendy half-mask over the left side of his face. The worst of his scarring, which had put him on the streets before Bertrum hired him on to the circus, was just a little too gruesome for the crowd. Showing the better half of it, on the other hand, made him look like a rugged and mysterious stranger. It was the perfect look for their circus' edgiest act.

Norman ran onto the stage with a knife in each hand and his black cape flowing behind him like the villain of a cheesy children’s show. Intense music played and members of the backstage brought in the targets and wooden wheel as Norman twirled his daggers. As soon as they were out of the way, he threw his knives one by one at the targets, each hitting bullseyes. The crowd cheered.

It was then that Susie Campbell, his assistant, strutted onto the stage. She did a little twirl in time with the music, and Norman caught her in his arms and kissed her before hooking her up to the wheel and giving it a spin.

“Do you wanna see what bravery is, folks?” Norman said, facing the crowd, “Bravery is having a boyfriend who likes to throw knives at'cha!” Norman took another knife from his belt and threw it underhand at the wheel. It landed a centimeter above Susie’s head. The motion was meant to look frighteningly casual, but in fact it took perfect, practiced concentration.

“And I know it’s brave, cuz she’s riskin' a face like mine!” He gave two more throws in quick succession, the knives landing just to the right and left of her face.

“O’course, it’s courage on my part, too! If I ain't careful, I could hit somethin’ vital.” Another knife zinged through the air, this one landing right between her thighs.

Norman took out another knife- his next two throws were to land on the right and left sides of her chest- but just as he was throwing the knife, the lights and music cut out. Norman was in panic as felt the knife leave his hand. Soon after, Susie's scream pierced the silent darkness.

Norman ran to her and began to untie her from the wheel.

"Oh God, Susie, I'm sorry. Where did it hit you?"

"My eye!" Susie cried, pain evident in her voice. Then she screamed again.

"It's going to be okay," came Bertrum's voice. "I’ll keep the show going. Take her backstage and get her some help."

“Come with me. I know a way to help her,” came Joey’s voice. Norman gathered her up in his arms and followed as Joey tugged him backstage. As soon as they were in the dull light of the backstage, Norman saw her wound. She’d lost consciousness and the knife was in deep enough that it was surely giving her brain damage. Joey led Norman to the train car containing the ink machine.

“You’re not...”

“I am. I promise- I’ve tested the ink machine well. And even if we could get her to a hospital fast enough to save her, she she’d never be the same. This is our one chance.”

Hesitantly, Norman handed Susie over. Joey took her into the train car, locked the door, and got to work.

After Bertrum had the next performer on stage and the show rolling along again, he went off to find Norman, who was sitting outside the traincar that contained the ink machine. It was smart of Joey, Bertrum thought, not to let Norman see what using the ink machine entailed- one tends to react badly to seeing their girlfriend shoved through a giant machine. Nonetheless, Norman looked haunted.

"Anxious?" Bertrum asked, sitting down next to Norman.

"Yeah. We've never used the ink machine before. What if something bad happens and I’m left wishing I’d just called a hospital?"

"Joey assured me that the machine was well-tested and ready for use. And you know that I would never do anything I didn’t think was best for my troupe. Would you like me to wait here with you? I think a few performers can announce themselves."

“Thanks. That would be nice.”

It was maybe twenty minutes later when Joey emerged, looking rather ashamed. "She's alive, but she isn't perfect. Seems like this machine still needs some work."

"Well, let us see her!" Bertrum said, "Surely it’s not the disaster you think it is."

"Alright. Susie?"

A womanlike creature stepped into the doorway. It looked like a cartoon version of a beautiful woman, and a different woman than Susie, at that. Susie had been short, blonde, and athletic with blue eyes and small, girlish features. This woman had massive black eyes, mature facial features, small horns and a broken halo growing out of her head, long black hair, an unnaturally thin neck and waist… and that scar. Her eye was still missing. The left side of her face looked melted, just like Norman's. Bertrum recognized this as a failed version of Joey's Alice Angel design. Norman just recognized that Susie looked scared and rather embarrassed to be showing her new appearance.

“Sorry she didn’t come out right,” Joey said. “It seems like everything I try with this machine fails at least a little…” Susie physically cringed when he said that.

“Nonsense!” Bertrum boomed, pushing past Norman to stroke her cheek. “She's alive. That's what matters most. Excellent job, Joey. And what's more, she's beautiful. Susie, I think we ought to give you a performance of your own. You’re perfect. No matter what Joey says.”

Over the coming months, Susie became a star in her own right as well as continuing to be Norman’s assistant. Their relationship had only grown stronger, and they couldn't have been happier as a matching pair of performers, and freaks in a circus of freaks.

That was why Susie celebrated as the performers went through the machine and became ink creatures one by one. As far as she was concerned, their transformation was beautiful. A way of reaching one's potential as performers.

As for Norman, he did something that he hadn't done in his entire life: he started minding his own business. As a world-class snoop, he'd come upon journals of newly transformed ink creatures, saying that they opposed the machine and didn't want to go through it. That was all it took for him to stop looking. Lord knew that he didn't want to know the price of his and his girlfriend's happiness, espeically since they weren’t people who would fit in anywhere else. Some things, despite everything Norman had previously believed, were better not to know.

---several months later---

Lacie entered costume storage, where Joey had asked to meet her. He was sitting cross-legged on the floor, a sewing kit and a few ripped costumes strewn about him. There was an extremely serious look on his face- one that told Lacie that this wasn’t about the costumes.

“What is it?” Lacie growled. She wasn't fond of the man who has made the machine hellbent on ruining her husband.

“It’s Bertrum,” Joey answered, anxiously fiddling with the sewing supplies. “I think he’s gone too far with the ink machine.”

“Finally, someone noticed,” Lacie replied. “I’ve been dying to tell someone the way he’s been acting lately. Why the sewing kit, if I can ask?”

“They’re in case Bertrum comes in. We can pretend that we’re just repairing some costumes. And please do tell me! I asked you here because I thought that as his wife, you’d be most likely to know about him.”

“Okay. Well, I don’t have any solid evidence, but...”

---

They'd been watching Susie practice her dance routine when Bertrum had started talking. “Just imagine it, Lacie dear. A whole circus of nothing but beautiful, marvellous creatures like her. That’s going to ours soon. Can you imagine what Jack or Sammy might look like once they go through the machine? I bet they’ll be just as amazing as her!”

“Sounds good,” Lacie had said, taking a drag from her cigarette, “except that we’d have to fire anyone who didn’t want to go through the machine.” It hadn’t seemed disturbing back then- just a case of Bertrum's dreams working faster than his brain, which happened sometimes.

Bertrum hadn’t said anything in reply- quite unlike him.

“I'm serious. What if Norman doesn’t want to transform? We sure ain’t throwing him back onto the street for that. It's not a good dream."

“Oh no, I’m not throwing my best friend onto the street. Perish the thought.” After a long, thoughtful pause, “Perhaps we can make an exception for him. But I think-” Bertum cut himself short and left, leaving Lacie alone and confused.

Bertrum typically couldn’t shut up about his plans. He could go on for hours about his brilliance until Lacie chucked a pillow at him to let him know that she’d gone from “almost half as excited as he is,” to “being a supportive wife” to “this is too much of a good thing.” If he was being secretive about his plans, there was definitely something going on.

After that night, talk of the machine always put Lacie on edge. Performers talking about who would do it and who wouldn’t do it as, one by one, there came to be more inky creatures and fewer humans in the room.

Susie had told her, as Lacie cleaned the increased number of cages for the increased number of non-sapient creatures, that she thought that everyone should go through the machine regardless of choice- that none of them would regret it once they came out.

“Where the Hell did you get that idea?” Lacie had snapped at her, furious.

“N-nowhere!” she’d squeaked before running off. A rather extreme reaction, Lacie noted.

She and Bertrum didn’t talk as much anymore, and not at all about his plans. He seemed on-edge around her, as well as, well, everyone. She never thought she’d miss his loud mouth so much. The silence between them was nerve-wracking and lonely.

---

Lacie hadn’t meant for it to happen, but she’d clearly evoked Joey’s pity for her.

“That sounds tough, Lacie. Sorry to hear about all that.”

“It’s fine. The real question is, what do we do about it?”

“Well, I think the first thing we need to do is gather information, I suppose. Who do you know that’s close to him?”

“Well, there’s Buddy- he’s basically our son at this point. And his best friend is Norman-”

“That’s it,” Joey said. “He’s perfect. He can use his friendship to get information out of Bertrum. And if that doesn’t work, he can use his sneaking skills. Plus, he already has the perfect looks for his act, so he’s probably the last person that Bertrum would want to transform!”

“I don' know. He is in cahoots with Susie, and Susie is the biggest suck-up to this whole machine idea out of anyone. But he does have the best chance at finding out. I'll go talk to him.”

#Bendy and the Ink Machine #step right up #Aus #norman x susie #lacie x bertrum #bertrum piedmont #norman polk #lacie benton #susie campbell #joey drew #my fanfiction

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aki-draws-things · 3 years ago

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@miii-chaaan here, enjoy some sort of moulin rouge AU while everything is still alright :3

"don't be shy, Rumlow. I've just asked whether you were seeing someone or not." Steve chuckled as they walked inside the triskelion side by side. Captain America wasn't good as he hoped at small talks, Brock knew he saw him the previous night, walking out of a club. He wasn't subtle either.

"no." and it wasn't exactly a lie, just... Well, he wasn't properly seeing someone, he was spending time with someone, paying them for company and a bit of sex.

"it's a fine club, the one down the main street." oh, yeah, here he 2as, the most not subtle man on earth.

"it is." Brock agreed.

"I've heard bucky talk about it, maybe we could check it out one of those nights."

Oh Lord... Captain America walking into Stark's most prized club, he would be in for a shock, Brock wasn't sure he understood what kind of club it was.

Back in tracks, though, bucky? Oh, yeah... He saw him eyeing the aerial boy quite some times by then. What was his name again? Jack definitely introduced them, he just couldn't remember the-- Clint! The oh very stretchy and bendy Clint. He saw him perform too, still his eyes were back on Jack at any given moment. The shine over his barely covered body, glitters in his hair and make up.

"rumlow?" he stumbled and caught himself before faceplanting inside the elevator. Damn Jack. Damn Jack and his perfect body and make up and everything.

"tomorrow night?" he offered, straightening his shirt before giving a quick voice command. "it's usually the night me and bucky go." so they could save Steve from being overly embarrassed. So he could see Jack perform in the sparkly suit.

"dress nice." he offered before stepping out and winking at him. "pretty boys like nice dresses."

Steve Rogers was not blushing. He indeed followed his advice to dress nice but that was the least problem. The problem, if one would call it so, was bucky slipping a card to the security guard and letting all three of them in from a secondary door, onto the backstage.

"you're taking advantage of the power you have on Clint, Mr Barnes." a voice called and Steve froze briefly, were they in trouble? Because bucky payed the guard?

"am I? Didn't you give Brock the same card?"

A low hum and a chuckle filled the corridor and a man came out of a room, arms crossed over a silver sparkly dress. He tilted his head, a strand of hair, slightly curled fell forward.

"he's not the one taking advantage the way you do."

"he's too polite, your pretty boy." a second voice called, a fan of feathers sticking out of the door before a blonde head. "mine, on the other hand-- hello there, handsome." he looked at Steve, more and more embarrassed and awkward. "a minute and I'll be all yours, let me finish to get this one ready for the big show."

Clint turned briefly to Brock, who may have remained quiet until then, but couldn't tear his eyes away from Jack.

"I'll bet your night you'll like tonight's show, all sparkles and feathers. You're lucky my Jack has a favorite cause he's so requested. Go get your seats and be ready." he whistled, 0ullimg jack back in the room before tossing a shiny feather to Brock.

"a token."

Brock remained there a moment longer, breathing in deeply and out slowly, blood rushing to his ears and cheeks.

"Steve's truly a lucky bastard."

It was bucky's joking tone that brought him back on earth, he followed through the corridor and into the main room, taking place at the reserved table.

"first show he see and it's your Jack all feathers and glitter. I think mine was clint's brother, before he left. Pretty anonymous, if you ask me."

"I got Clint." Brock mused quietly, his eyes scanning the room, waiting. He saw Stark on the opposite of the room tipping his hat at them. "a moment later he was draped over you and I stumbled against Jack." he spilled his drink on himself, Jack muttered a stunned apology and offered to help him get cleaned, it was only later that he found out he used him as an escape route from a rather unwanted patron. But by then he was smitten and Jack's blush was perhaps the prettiest thing he had ever seen.. Hell, he wasn't even gay. He wasn't-- well, perhaps a little? Perhaps for Jack.

"yeah... And he gets the feathers. As I said, lucky bastard." he turned to watch at Steve, his eyes still wide, a blush creeping over his face and neck and ears, bucky laughed. "relax, Stevie. Enjoy the night out, enjoy the pretty boys, enjoy the fact one of them set his eyes on you already."

as he said so the room's lights dimmed and a single light flashed to life, illuminating the centre of the ceiling. And Jack.

Brock swallowed.

#Hydra husbands #Winterhawk #Moulin rouge AU #Because I can... Because think of the potential angst!!#Because Jack and Clint in sparkle and feathers!#Marvel fic #Aki writes

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hello-im-not-a-possum · 3 years ago

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2. twisted

The cartoon that came out of the machine was pretty as a picture, perfect in almost every detail, and had a bubbly, positive personality. But she was not what Joey had wanted Susie to become. (Set in an AU where Joey gets perfect toons from his freshly killed employees and STILL isn’t happy, the unpleasable bitch…)

“Progress report to GENT home office, Client; Joey Drew Studios.

With the addition of the new ink recipe to use in the machine, we have made an unbelievable leap in progress and have almost met our client’s expectations. What had started as a machine to mold life sized figures out of ink has now done things that border on being supernatural.

Although Mr. Drew seems unimpressed, even frustrated with the results at times, in spite of the fact that the models have come out identical to their cartoon counterparts.

The process of running the cartoon film through the machine for the figures to imprint on has been successful, but it looks like that unless someone goes through the trouble of making a short that only has ONE character in it, the machine picks what character it makes at seemingly random. That is our client’s complaint; that instead of being user chosen, the machine picks out which living, breathing, thinking ink models it makes at random. Upon working on this, if I were to be in the client’s shoes, I’d have several valid complaints regarding the machine and the models it created, but our client’s complaint… Is that the machine that doesn’t have a system that allows the user to pick and choose which model it makes yet creates a physically flawless model every single time, does not allow the user to pick and choose which model it makes. He never ceases to infuriate me.

On a sour note, there was an incident with the figure in the likeness of a character called ‘The Brute’. Upon its creation, it immediately went and broke our client’s leg in a very… well, brutal fashion too. But fortunately, it has not physically attacked anyone since The Cameraman figure was made as we have threatened to separate them if it keeps up that behavior. It still likes to insult people, and it still does things that unnerve me though. We’re hoping that the rest of the figures will be less violent and or creepy.”

Thomas clicked off the recording and sighed as he looked at the newly made report, there was no way he could submit this to his boss without someone sending in someone to make sure he wasn’t huffing in ink fumes and whatever the Studio workers smoked to consider any of this to be normal.

“Hey Tommy! I think I figured out the issue with the machine! Or rather, its fuel.”

The mechanic grit his teeth and turned to face his client.

“What? I wasn’t aware that there was a problem with it.”

“Why, Tommy, how could you forget? I’m talking about the figure deposit problem of course! Why did we get The Brute when we wanted to get Boris? Why did we get Cameraman when we wanted Bendy? The answer was so simple, why, it was even staring at us the entire time!”

“Uh huh…” Thomas did not look convinced. “And what was this issue?”

“The ingredients, the Ink of course! You simply can’t put blueberry pancake batter in an oven and be surprised when you get blueberry pancakes instead of blueberry muffins, We got those two knuckleheads before we got the real stars of the show because the souls used to make them weren’t fit to make those two, but the machine still did what it does best: made living cartoons.”

Tom had an uneasy feeling in his gut as Joey grabbed his arm and led him to the Ink Machine’s room. He felt like a sheep being led to the slaughterhouse, he KNEW what went down in there! He knew the other ingredients, not well, per say, but for long enough to judge them and their characters.

He didn’t shed a single tear when Sammy was used in it, in fact, he was rather pleased with the results before it started acting out like that. He and the music director were almost always at each other’s throats for one reason or another. If you asked him, the ex-musician was strange, rude, clearly mentally unstable, and sometimes even cruel. And even if he wasn’t, his physical health had declined so much over his time at the studio that it was obvious that he would die regardless of whether or not he was put in the machine. Feeding Sammy to that machine was an act of mercy, really, and even if it wasn’t, it served him right to become a- err, The Brute and have him put the former musician in his place- put his villainous ways to a decent cause. Now if only someone could ensure for a fact that The Brute would behave...

Now the other ingredient, Norman Polk, was a different story. The man was old, weird and kinda creepy. On the surface, the man was an ideal candidate. Like Sammy, he would die anyway and nobody would miss him when he did. But on the contrary, he seemed like he still had some good years left in him. And while he was weird and creepy, he had been those things in an oddly endearing way that most of the studio had either liked or tolerated enough to not be bugged by it. The mechanic didn’t know how to explain it, that man reminded Tom of a mysterious, mostly-estranged relative that shows up out of nowhere and was always there for you even if you don’t always see him. So when the man snooped too much for his own good and had to be silenced… Tom could never look the resulting toon in the eye, or in his case, the lens.

But the mechanic couldn’t deny that it needed to be done, after all, the former projectionist was far too nosy for anyone’s sake. Nobody who knows the secret of the Ink Machine (or rather, it’s unconventional secret ingredient needed for its ink) should be free to wander the studio and spill the beans.

And a feeling in his gut was beginning to tell him that that was why he was the next on the chopping block.

He had built it, he learned what it would take to make it work, he had done what it took to make it work, and it was working now; No more models that would only move a tiny bit before collapsing into puddles! No more off model models! No more issues aside from x, y, z… -No more reasons for Joey to keep him alive when it was now too dangerous to his business…

A tiny voice at the back of his head told him it served him right. The creator of this unholy torture device would now be consumed by it, just like how the maker of the Brazen Bull was the first victim it claimed.

At this point, he was almost morbidly curious on who or what the machine would make him; would it poke fun at his past and make him that territorial junkyard guard, Canoodle? Would it ironically punish him for his greed by making him The Fat Cat of the show, Boswell Lotsobucks? Would it acknowledge that although he was a villain to the bitter end, he still tried to go clean only for demons to drag him back down his dark paths and make him into Charley? Thinking about it, any butcher gang member would be a good enough fit really.

He was a mix of relieved, disappointed, and horrified when he was brought into the room and saw the unconscious voice actress of Alice Angel strapped to a mobile operating table. Joey seemed to ignore his reaction as he proudly showed her off and began to monologue.

“Like Boris, Sammy was a musician, simple-minded, and was very loyal to those he considered friends until the bitter end. But what made Sammy more like the Brute then Boris- Aside from body type, obviously, was that Sammy had quite the short temper on him, one that got messed with often, and a tendency to hold onto a grudge that can’t be swayed away with a good meal or a bad joke… Just like our friend; the Brute.”

Tom stayed speechless as Joey continued his seemingly prepared and rehearsed speech.

“As for Bendy and Norman, well, it’s obvious that those too simply weren’t compatible in the slightest! Sure, they both have their mischievous sides, but that alone doesn’t make a man into a good imp… However, do you know who DOES have more in common with Mr. Polk? That’s right! A certain smart alec-someone who knows a thing or two about anyone, everyone, and everything whether he wants to or not. Someone with a darker, more jaded sense of humor than our little devil, someone who can lurk in the shadows, or in his case, ‘backstage’ for safety or to gather Intel, but be happy and proud to take the front stage when the need arises! ...Alright, I can see that Norman’s soul may have influenced the personality of our Cameraman, but at least he did it in ways that make sense to the character.”

The mechanic continued to stay silent as Joey continued.

“But the main point is: we know what to do to fix this little issue. If we want a main character, we need someone who embodies the soul of that character. And Ms. Campbell here said it herself; Alice is a part of her!”

“Joey…”

“Why, she’d be thanking us if she knew what was coming! This is a dream come true for her! She always seemed to be the happiest when she was singing our angel darling’s songs…”

As if he was snapped out of a trance, the mechanic pulled Joey to his face, gripping the animator’s arms tightly and shaking him up a bit.

“Joey! We can’t do this! Susie isn’t like Norman or Sammy. She’s young, healthy, and still has a lot to live for. Nobody would buy that she passed on from something out of the blue, or that she moved away without warning or telling anyone. Everyone in the studio loves her and talks to her frequently! If we do this, especially so soon, they will make the connection, and they will find out about this. It was bad enough when Norman went, imagine if someone as well loved as her went too!”

Joey just laughed and slapped Tom’s shoulder.

“Oh Tommy, all we need to tell them is that Susie got her big break and is Bringing Alice to life in ways never before seen! And to sell the illusion, also tell them ‘you know how those folks in Hollywood are with their schedules, always a bunch of busy bees.’ They’ll bite, you just have to trust me.”

“What if they don’t?” the mechanic argued. “What if they start snooping around and start to piece together what really happened to her?”

Joey’s smile wavered a bit, but remained steadfast.

“Well, we’ll just have to cross that bridge when we reach it. And when we do, we’ll have our answer!”

“Nnnnggghhh…”

Both of them shuddered when they heard the voice actress start to stir awake.

“I swore I used stronger stuff in her drink…”

“...Jo...Joey..? ..Mr. Conner..?” The voice actress’s real eye widened in horror as she looked around, and her voice wavered as she grew more and more frantic. “WHat’s going on?! Where am I- Why am I tied up?!”

“S-Susie! Everything’s perfectly fine my dear, you just need to calm down a bit and I’ll explain everything…” He subtly jabbed Thomas in the ribs with his elbow. “Tommy!” He hissed “Throw her in the machine already!”

The frightened voice actress began to struggle against her restraints while Tom hesitated. Joey shot him a glare as he strolled up behind Susie and put a ‘reassuring’ hand on the weeping angel’s shoulder.

“Joey, please… let me go… Don’t do this to me!” Tears were running down the woman’s face, her voice was soft and breaking from her stress. “Just let me go and I promise I won’t tell anyone…”

“Now, now, Susie, there’s nothing to worry about, yes I know this looks unsettling from your position… But you and Alice are going places, new, big places that most people only dream of seeing! You’re going to bring her to life in ways that will touch the hearts of generations!”

A flash of realization crossed her face.

“Joey… answer me this: when Sammy ‘died from untreated lung cancer’ did he actually die from lung cancer? And when Norman ‘died from a workplace injury’ did he really…?” her voice trailed off a bit with uncertainty before asking her third question. “Did their deaths have anything to do with those two toons that showed up?!”

Her questions were not answered by words, but with actions as the two men stuffed her into the machine. When it turned on, her screams echoed throughout the mostly empty studio, chilling all who heard them to the very bone.

When they finally stopped, the machine whirred and roared to life and Joey rubbed his hands together in glee as he watched the machine work its magic.

Thomas, on the other hand, stood in silence while staring at his hands as dread and guilt sank in his gut.

The former man’s smile fell into a look of confusion when he saw a pair of gloves with ‘X’ marks on them come out, followed by arms that connected to them. That look of confusion fell deeper into a frown when he saw the arms stretch, curl, and twist when the gloves reached the floor as if they were streams of ice cream coming out of the machine at an all-you-can-eat buffet.

Alice didn’t have arms that curled and stretched, but Joey knew a certain demoness toon who did; Miss Twisted. He was cursing under his breath, of course it would complete their little trio before giving him what he wanted! Now he wasted his one shot at getting Alice!

The rest of the toon didn’t even get out of the damn machine, it was like she was taunting him by continuing to stretch her arms and let them continue to coil in piles on the floor instead of showing him the finished product.

Furious, he marched over and grabbed the toon demoness’s arms and yanked her out of the damn machine.

“Stop messing around!” He scolded before pausing and reapplying his signature smile. “Your friends Brute and Cameraman have been worried sick about you ever since their creation! You wouldn’t want to keep them waiting for you any longer than they’ve already been, right?”

He could’ve been imagining it, but he swore that she had a look of pure terror on her face before she put on a fake smile of her own. And was it just him, or was this Miss Twisted’s left eye slightly discolored, glassy looking, if that made sense for someone with pitch black pie-cut eyes. The grayer eye she had reminded him of Susie Campbell’s fake eye.

“Y-yeah! You’re right!” She pushed Joey out of her face, clearly uncomfortable by his staring but pretending to be perfectly fine. “I can’t keep my boys waiting for too long, who knows what they’ll do?” She chuckled nervously. “So… where are you keeping them? where are they hiding?”

“Tommy here will be happy to show you, just follow him and-”

“Thanks!”

The demoness chipperly chirped and swiftly yanked Thomas out of the room at a speed that almost insulted the man.

#Bendy and the Ink Machine #Thomas Conner #joey drew #susie campbell #miss twisted #fanfic #ink demonth #murder warning

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just-call-me-the-intrusive-thot · 4 years ago

Text

Soulmate September - Day 10

Day 10 - You are born with a birthmark, similar to a tattoo, that is shared by your soulmate.

Pairing(s): Romantic Anaroceit, Romantic RemSleep, Ambiguous Poly Glasses Gays

TWs: Swearing, Remus being Remus, animal death metions briefly, implied sexual mention once I think?

–

Why was it so difficult to simply bring together two handsome, obnoxious soulmates?

How could grown men be this dense?!Virgil had been trying for MONTHS at this point to get these idiots to date, yet for some reason

Instead of wanting to date each other, they both seemed far more interested in someone else.

In him.

Why, why did this have to be his life? Tormented by such stupid, handsome men?

Okay, maybe he had a teeny crush on both of them but Virgil was getting ahead of himself.

Working at the local theatre was doing some real good for Virgil; being a techie meant he was mostly out of the spotlight - so no chance of any performance anxiety - and it meant he had to actually wake up and be a functional human being but was flexible enough that he could call in sick pretty easily if he needed a mental health day.

Thankfully, things had been going well until Virgil looked down from the catwalk to note that the two best actors in their troupe, Roman Prince and Janus D. Lyre, both bore each other’s soulmate markings. Both on the backs of their necks, all too easy to miss. Ever since, Virgil had been trying to subtly get them to realise they were soulmates. Of course, given the intimacy of the soulmate marks, it would be entirely outrageous for Virgil to simply tell them they were soulmates; social etiquette wasn’t his forte, but his anxiety really didn’t want the possible shunning he might receive if he broke that rule. Knowing that Janus and Roman were often together for rehearsals and were similarly self-obsessed, Virgil assumed getting them interested in each other would be a piece of cake.

And yet. Somehow. The man they were both interested in was Virgil himself.

Every time he tried to get the two talking, Virgil wound up being flirted with or found himself stuck between two arguing idiots. If anything, Virgil wondered if his interfering had made things worse. Now instead of kidding and being perfect and gorgeous together, they were absolutely straight up enemies. Janus did his best to interrupt - and one-up - Roman’s stellar attempts at flirting, and Roman often tried to out shine Janus by giving Virgil anything from his favourite chocolates to gothic black roses to new headphones.

Not that Virgil didn’t secretly love being the object of their mutual affection, if anything it gave him hope that perhaps whoever his soulmate was would dote on him just as much. But just like his non-existent soulmate mark, this just wasn’t meant to be. He still wasn’t sure why he didn’t have a soulmate mark like everyone else; even his ace and aro friends confirmed they had soulmates too, so why was he skipped over? Probably because no one would ever want to be his soulmate.Yeah. Probably.

Virgil was lost in that downward spiral when Remus leapt off of the set he was painting and landed just shy of crushing the poor emo.

“Wow you look like shit,”, the trash rat greeted, sitting and slinging an arm around Virgil before he could protest, “Are the girls fighting again?”

Virgil tried to stifle a snicker. It’s a stupid meme reference, Virgil, don’t laugh.

“Of course it fucking is, when is it not?“

Remus nodded, though he looked more bored than sympathetic, “Well, how about I offer you some advice, my good bitch?”

Virgil squinted at him in both annoyance and suspicion. “If it’s going to get me arrested, it’s a solid ‘fuck no’.”

“Relax, asshole, it’s totally legal and requires zero body bags and or falsified witness statements!”

Well. That’s about as good as they’re going to get. Virgil huffed, “Fine, give me the deets, Ratman.”

Remus snickered at the old nickname; A decade had passed but still the memory of the two of them graffitiing their high school gym with their tags on their last day still lived on.

“Alright, Stitch Bitch, here’s how you do it,”, Remus ignored Virgil’s eye roll and continued, “Ask them both on a date, same place and time. Talk about your interests, since you’re probably not gonna actually have that much in common, then you can just reject both of them! They’ll be driven into each other’s arms, or some shit. You know what they’re like, they’re dramatic as fuck. It’ll be perfect.”

Virgil wasn’t amused, “But what if they don’t? What if I just end up breaking both their hearts and they wind up all depressed and-?!”

“Then it solves your problem anyway, dipshit.”, he rolled his eyes, “Jeez, you’re worse than Roman with the dramatics! Think of the middle ground, you turn them both down, they go home sulking, but they’re big boys! They’ll get over it and get together some other day! Big deal!” Remus affectionately ruffled Virgil’s hair and didn’t stop until Virgil all but threw him off, “Alright, alright, fine! I’ll try, but if it all goes wrong, you’re helping me pack to move across the fucking globe.” “Ooh, alright! Or I can hide your body if it goes REALLY badly! I know how to make sure the police never find it, after all! Did you know you just need to bury it vertically and put a dead animal on top-”

Virgil tuned him out, already trying to narrow down locations for dates in his head. He’d need to pick somewhere both Roman and Janus would agree to go. He didn’t exactly doubt either of them would turn him down, but he needed to be sure they’d both attend. Perhaps the local restaurants would be a good place to start? It’d be easy to Mrs.Doubtfire that shit. Minus the clothing change, of course. Maybe the Golden Palace might be a good idea? It’s bougie enough for Roman, classy enough for Janus, and if Virgil got lucky enough, perhaps they’d both be the ones to pay for dinner.

“...And so I told Roman about it and then Roman tells me “Remus, you dunce, you got arrested because you were caught carrying a dangerous weapon in Starbucks” but I personally think that cop was just an asshole. I mean, it was just a baseball bat for fuck’s sake, so WHAT if it had a few nails in it-”

The techie noted that Remus was still babbling to himself so he clicked his fingers just shy or flicking him in the ear,

“When’s Roman free? I know Janus is pretty flexible-”

“I’ll bet.”, Remus snickered. “Dude. You have your soulmate, don’t be a dick.”

“Hey, that doesn’t mean I can’t mentally rank every guy here on how bendy I think they’d be in bed-”

“THAT ASIDE.”, Virgil interrupted, rubbing his temples like it would squeeze out the horrible mental image and several questions he never wanted answers to, “I’ve nailed down the where, I just need the when. Janus is free most days, but Roman’s pretty enigmatic about that shit. Do you know if he’s free tonight? Might as well get this shit over with.”

Remus mulled it over, “He should be. But you should probably just ask him first then Janus. Y’know, save yourself the trouble.”

Ah. That did make sense. Virgil tried not to let it show that he hadn’t thought of that and nodded, “Right… Okay. Just, if I fuck up talking to either of them, be ready.”

“With the car or a shovel?”

“Both.”

The trashrat snickered and let Virgil stand up, giving him an ‘affectionate’ jab in the back of his knee just to get a reaction out of the techie. Virgil wasn’t sure why Remus did that sometimes, he figured it was just another one of the demented twin’s eccentricities.

Inhaling deeply, Virgil sought out Roman, careful to avoid Janus’ line of sight as he tapped the flamboyant twin on the arm. Roman spun to face him, his expression lighting up in a way that made Virgil shamefully wish that he was his soulmate. That he was worthy of all his doting.

“Virge! What can I do for you, my dark and stormy knight?”

Stop being so fucking charming perhaps?

“Uh, it’s kind of an embarrassing request, so bear with me.”

“Of course! What’s up?”

Just ask him, ignore the butterflies, he’s not your soulmate.

“I was wondering, if you’d want to go on a date with me tonight-”

Roman positively swept the emo off his feet, his beaming smile could have burned itself into Virgil’s eyes.

“YES!! YES, I’D ADORE-”

“YEP! Okay, that’s great!”, he shushed him, trying to keep things as quiet as possible, “Listen, I know you’re excited but I’m really anxious about this-”

“Nothing new there.”, Roman chuckled affectionately as he put Virgil down.

“Oh shut up,”, Virgil smirked, pushing down the sunny feeling that chuckle brought out, “Look, I’ll text you the details so can you just keep this between us? I don’t want anyone gossiping. Not that I’m ashamed of you or anything I just-”

Roman carefully halted his word vomit with a gentle caress of Virgil’s cheek, “It’s alright, I understand. After all, with such an honour, I’d do good not to betray the trust of my charming prince.”

Virgil flusteredly averted his gaze, “Hmph. What happened to your ‘dark and stormy knight’?”

“Well, if things go well, I’d hope to promote him.”

The wink Roman shot Virgil should be illegal, that thing could have killed him. The techie just gave him an attempt at an ‘oh fuck off’ smirk that came out more as a ‘fuck I have a crush’ shy smile.

No time to dwell on it, he had another stupidly handsome man to ask on a fake date.

Virgil checked with the stagehands and made his way over to the backstage dressing room area, finding Janus sat on one of the makeup tables while their dramaturg was busy going over some directions for their next rehearsal. Upon looking up and noticing him, Janus smirked - another expression that should be outright banned for it’s lethality - and politely requested the dramaturg ‘bother him another time’. They did exactly that, leaving Virgil and Janus alone to talk,

“Virgil,”, Janus purred with a voice like sweet honey, “what brings you here?”

Don’t think about that sexy voice, don’t think about that sexy voice, don’t-

“You, actually.” Play it cool, Virge. Be suave and charming. “I wanted to ask you out on a date.”

Janus’ eyes widened slightly in surprise. Virgil felt pretty proud to have finally stunned the silver-tongued gent, though he knew it’d only be a fleeting victory. If anyone would out-smooth even the most flirty person alive, it would be Janus.

With a snake-like fluidity, Janus slunk off of the table and made his way over to Virgil; whereas Roman was only an inch or two taller than him, Janus had a whole six inches at least. Virgil found it semi-intimidating, but that just made the taller man more attractive if he was being honest. Janus softly ran a hand through Virgil’s purple-dyed hair,

“That’s rather a bold request, Virgil. What brought this on, if I may ask? Not that I’m complaining..”

Virgil had to work extremely hard to resist the urge to nestle into the warmth of his palm. Not your soulmate! Stop it! “I uh, I figured I would take a risk for once. It’s alright if you don’t wanna-”

“No.”, Janus interjected, the hand in Virgil’s hair sliding under his chin to lock their eyes, “I’d very much like to go on a date with you. When and where?”

Virgil swallowed nervously, “The Golden Palace, tonight? I’ll um, I’ll book the table and text you the time-”

“Perfect.”, Janus smirked, gently releasing Virgil. He hadn’t realised how much he’d been subconsciously leaning into Janus’ touch until he almost felt himself sway. “I’ll be sure to wear my best suit for you. Really give you something to blush over.”

Shit.

Virgil had no rebuttal, he simply nodded and hastily headed back to his usual breakspot to work out just how he would survive tonight…

It turned out the answer was simple; he wouldn’t.

Thankfully Virgil had settled on an outfit that was just the right mix of fancy and casual; his black leather jacket hugged his shoulders which his dark purple button up sat under. He’d gone back and forward between his options for bottoms, but in the end, he preferred his black short pencil skirt and a pair of sheer black tights that matched his black ankle boots. It was a bold choice, but Virgil felt far more powerful in that combination. Like he could kick ass and get away with it.

Virgil needn’t have bothered, however, as the second he showed up at quarter to seven to meet Roman, any semblance of confidence in his ability to control the situation went right out the window. It should have been illegal to look that handsome. A white waistcoat and pants bearing gold trim, combined with a burgundy button up shirt with the sleeves rolled? How dare Roman look that beautiful-

Oh god, now he’s smiling at him from across the room. Too late to back out now.

Swallowing nervously, Virgil returned the smile and headed over to the table he’d booked; far enough from the door for Roman to miss Janus arriving, and out of the way enough so that they wouldn’t see each other too soon. If he wasn’t so nervous, Virgil would have pat himself on the back for the trouble he went to securing two tables over the phone, but the last thing he wanted to focus on was the person on the phone’s sassy remarks as he did so. Instead, he focused on Roman politely getting up to pull out his chair for him.

“You look stunning, Virge! Did you change up your eye shadow too?”

Virgil gave an anxious nod, “Yeah, I thought maybe I’d try the purple instead of solid black like usual. Do you like it?”

Roman’s grin could’ve smothered him in the night and he’d have thanked it for the priveledge, “I love it!”

While keeping an eye on the time, Virgil let himself roll into conversation with Roman; he was surprised by not only how smoothly the conversation went, but how much they had in common. Sure, there was a tiiiiny heated exchange as to which Disney movie reigned supreme, but their mutual love of Nightmare Before Christmas and the artistic pursuits made for some wonderful discussion. It was a shame Virgil had to remind himself of just why he was doing this.

He was supposed to be making his rejection of Roman easier, not more difficult.

Finally, as 8 O’clock rolled around, Janus walked in followed by a few other smartly dressed patrons. Of course, Janus very much stood out among them wearing a black dinner suit with an obsidian waist coat and golden coloured button up underneath. His usual bowler hat had been replaced for a much fancier one with a larger brim that held a marigold flower. The sight was so enticing, Virgil had to will himself to stop staring as he got up from the table,

“Excuse me, Roman, mind if I go use the bathroom?”

Roman gave a nod and Virgil made haste towards the restroom area; thankfully he’d planned ahead and knew he could use the corridor that went along behind the bar to emerge on the other side of the room without being detected. However, a new obstacle proved to be a challenge; Janus hadn’t taken his eyes off of the door since the moment he’d walked in and removed his suit jacket.

Damn. Virgil hadn’t anticipated that.

Luckily, one of the men who’d come in behind Janus - a man adorned in an off-black suit wearing a beanie, a pair of sunglasses, and a face mask - had just come out of the bathroom door behind him. Without the time to let his social anxiety kick in, Virgil stopped the man and asked quietly, “Hey, sorry to be a bother, but if you can distract the handsome guy at that table for a couple minutes,“, he began, gesturing to Janus, “I’ll give you ten bucks, how’s that sound?”.

The man seemed to stare for a moment behind the shades then silently gestured with his hands in a motion of “more”.

Of course.

“Okay, uh, fifteen?”

More again. This asshole..

“Ugh, fine, twenty! That's as much as I can spare!”

The man shrugged and nodded, gladly taking the money and, to his credit, doing exactly as was asked. Virgil watched him approach Janus, asking for the time if the way Janus took his attention and turned it to his watch was an indication. It bought Virgil enough time to ‘arrive’ just as the man gave a thank you nod to Janus.

“Sorry I’m a little late,”, Virgil apologised, taking his seat, “I hope I didn’t keep you waiting?”

“Not at all,”, Janus assured him, smirking delightedly in a way that made Virgil’s knees feel weak even in a sitting position, “You look beautiful, Virgil, if I’d known you’d look so good, I’d have picked out an even better suit.”

This fucking guy, oh my god. “Oh shut up, you look handsome as is.”, Virgil shot back, doing his best to remain calm even as Janus leant in close to strike up conversation.

“I’m telling you, babes, he’s either a cheater or he’s crazy.”

Remy aimed the stirrer he’d been using to push back his cuticles towards Virgil and Janus, then trained it on his stoic co worker, “Look, he’s got two gorgeous guys here and neither of them have noticed yet.”

The aforementioned co worker rolled his eyes, “Remy, you have once again utterly misread the situation for the sake of needless dramatics. It’s rather obvious what’s going on here if you take the time to pick up on subtle body language clues.”

“What’s this about clues, Logie Bear?”, questioned a rather eager waiter carrying a tray of glasses back behind the bar. “Are you playing Sherlock again?”

“Patton, please, refrain from the pet names during working hours, I’ve told you before-”

“While they’re perfectly suitable and welcome at home, we must remain professional at work.”, chimed in another bespectacled man who was manning the till, “It’s fine Logan, honey, let them off the hook this once, okay?”

Patton put down the tray and wrapped their arms around the man who’d just spoken, “Emile’s right! C’mon Logan, you can’t deny it, you like the name too-”

Logan cleared his throat to throw off the peachy blush that threatened to give away his adoration for his soulmates, ”As I was saying before, it’s obvious as to what this rather anxious individual is up to. His body language isn’t that of a cheater, Remy,”, the server flipped Logan the bird, “In fact, I’d hazard a guess that the poor lad is simply attempting to work out which man is his soulmate. I read a fascinating journal that talked all about this phenomenon where some soulmates are unable to see their soulmarks and thus rely on a technique comparable to sensing one’s aura-”

“Okay so like, you think he’s trying to get a read on these two to narrow it down?”, Remy interrupted before Logan could further explore his tangent, “Well then, it’s obvious which one he’s gonna pick.”

Remy gestured lazily over his shoulder at Roman, who was currently twirling his fork between his fingers, “It’s gonna be Tall, Dark and Dumbass over there, babes.”

Logan scoffed, “Falsehood. Clearly the gentleman he’s sat with currently is a much more appropriate option.”. The server nodded his head in their direction, “All factors point to the man in black not only being the more suitable option, but his body language is far more open and receptive to our subject.”

“Subject. Christ it’s like I’m back in science one.”, Remy groaned, but continued to argue, “Besides, you’re ignoring how he’s like, totes more comfortable with my boy in white, sweetie. Look at him, he can’t wait to get away from your boy in black.“

Sure enough, Virgil had gone to switch partners again, returning to Roman with a sweetly shy apologetic gesture.

Patton piped up, “What if they’re like us, Logie Bear? Y’know, more than one soulmate?”

Logan shook his head, “Ridiculous, it’d make no sense to have such a date if that were the case.”

Remy nodded in agreement for the first time, “Yeah, either way, you’re wrong on this one, Logan. Trust me, I know what a fellow morosexual looks like.”

Emile and Logan both sighed at that one while Patton tsk’d, “Remy, come on, thats your soulmate you’re talking about! You shouldn’t be mean!”

Remy quirked an eyebrow at Patton, “Babes, have you met Remus? I love the big sap but he’s a certified dumbass with a heaping dose of cryptid.”, he opened the drinks cooler and took out a lemonade bottle, not giving a shit that the three soulmates behind him were absolutely unamused. ”Anyway, if you’re so sure over who our ‘subject’ will end up with, how about we bet on it? Loser has to work two weeks of overtime and the winner gets thirty dollars or some shit. You in?”

Patton and Emile both declined, both more focused on their work and simply enjoying the dates being had, while Logan agreed wholeheartedly, “I do hope your next two weeks are free, Remy...”

He couldn’t take much more of this.

The longer Virgil kept going back and forth between the two of them - using his anxiety to buy himself time without too much suspicion - the more he was getting tangled up in feelings he knew he couldn’t indulge. Every second with Roman made him smile, even when trading verbal jabs. Every second with Janus made him feel more bold, able to flirt back every once and a while. But this wasn’t right. Janus, Roman, they were made for each other. Not for him.

He wouldn’t get to curl up next to Roman on a cold night, watching Disney movies, baking together, or following along to Bob Ross tutorials only for one of them inevitably would start painting on the other until they were both paint splattered, cackling messes.

He wouldn’t get to dance quietly in the living room with Janus while their favourite music plays, swaying softly to his favourite Jazz music, or lazily draping himself over Janus’ lap while they read their favourite books long into the night.

Virgil stared into the bathroom mirror; his ‘dates’ had been so sweet as to compliment him, but all he could focus on was how much of a mess he felt. He’s going to break their hearts beyond repair, all because he couldn’t just tell them they were soulmates. Social etiquette be damned, why had he let it go on like this?

Feeling his chest constricting, Virgil quickly grabbed his phone and texted Remus.

V: [help. Having a panic attack. Distract me]

He tried to remember his breathing exercises, chewing his free hand’s thumbnail anxiously until he got the text notification;

R: [Cool. Did u kno rabbits eat their babies when they’re stressed?]

…. Virgil heavily regretted asking Remus to distract him.

V: [Horrifying. Thank you.]

R: [Anytime, Stitch Bitch. Now what happened?]

V: [Dates backfired.]

R: [U caught feelings didnt u]

Virgil groaned and kept typing.

V: [fuck u]

R: [fuck me urself coward.]

Well at least that got a laugh out of him. Remus followed up that text before he could reply:

R: [Just go out there and tell them the truth]

V: [nope, no way, they’ll hate me]

R: [Bitch they’re both smitten w/ u it’ll hurt but they’ll live, they’re sat there worried about u]

V: [how the fuck do you know that?]

R: [Remy’s on shift tonight, he and Logan are taking bets on how things will pan out. They’ve been texting me non stop.]

That did explain a few things. Namely the one server with the sunglasses and sassy attitude who gave him and Roman extra desserts “for like, the cutest couple in this bitch”, and the other more stoic server who brought him and Janus a bottle of champagne “to celebrate a wonderful partnership”. When would his life stop feeling like a goddamn circus?

Virgil was pulled from his thoughts as his next text sent his blood running cold,

R: [u might wanna get back to em, they’ll be worried about u by now]

Dammit. Virgil had just left the bathroom to be met with a worried Roman, “Virgil, are you alright!? You were gone so long, I thought something had happened!”

Stomp down that affection you’re feeling, Virgil. It’s just gonna hurt more.

“I’m fine, its just my nerves-”

“Virgil?”

Both men turned to spy Janus entering the hallway with an expression of shock and disgust upon seeing the two of them. He promptly strode over and with surprising gentleness moved Virgil to his side,

“It’s bad enough I can’t avoid you at work, Prince, but I’ll not have you ruining our date night.”

As Janus went to lead Virgil away, Roman held onto Virgil’s hand, “Actually, Lies and Dolls, he’s with me tonight, so kindly take your delusions and leave.”

Oh my god, why did he trust Remus’ plan in the first place?! Janus smirked dangerously, “Or what, you dramatic hack?”

Roman took exception to that, and while Janus had the height advantage, Roman still knew how to be intimidating when needed, “I’ll make you leave!”

Before either of them could come to blows, Virgil got in between them. He might as well come clean,

“BOTH OF YOU STOP!”

Janus and Roman faced him, sporting stunned but ever attentive expressions. Ugh, this was gonna hurt.

“I can’t do this anymore! Yeah, I did ask you both here, and yeah! You’re both wonderful but you’re not meant to be with me! You’re meant to be with each other! Ugh, this was a mistake! I can’t-! I can’t be here, I’m sorry-!”

Virgil wrenched himself from between them, making a beeline through the tables and just getting out of the door before the two caught up to him. In the back of his mind, Virgil assumed the serving staff that followed behind were either desperate to see this unfold or just making sure this wasn’t going to be a dine ‘n’ dash scenario.

“Virge, come on, you’re not making any sense! I’m not meant to be with Janus,”, Roman assured him, rolling his left sleeve up the whole way and revealing Virgil’s soul mark, “I’m meant to be with you! You’re my soulmate, Virgil! Surely you knew-”

“That’s,”, Janus interrupted, “That’s not possible, because Virgil is my soulmate.”

Both Roman and Virgil turned to face him, watching Janus roll up his right sleeve to reveal Virgil’s soul mark in the exact same place as Roman’s had been.

To say Virgil was confused was an understatement, “W...Wait, no, that’s...”

Roman and Janus stared at each other’s soul mark then looked to Virgil, “You… really didn’t know that I- that we were your soulmates?”

Virgil shook his head, ”I don’t have your soulmarks though! It doesn’t make sense...”

He turned away, grasping his arms as he tried to make sense of all this. All his life, Virgil had looked in his mirror and wished - God, how he’d wished - to find just one mark. Something to prove that he was indeed someone’s soulmate. That the universe hadn’t forsaken him. And now he had two of the most wonderful men he’d ever met sporting his soul mark while he had nothing to reassure him this wasn’t some cosmic fluke?!

Janus and Roman stood in awkward silence, the latter giving the servers an apologetic look and pulling out his wallet to pay when the former noticed something about Virgil that had him squinting to get a look. “.... Virgil, do forgive me for this.”

Without hesitating, Janus whipped out his pocket knife - why he brought it on a date, Virgil had no idea - and cut a hole in the back of Virgil’s tights, careful to avoid his skin.

“What the FUCK, Janus!?”, came the obviously horrified reply, only for Janus to take a picture with his phone and hand it to Virgil, rendering him speechless.

Sure enough, there on the inside of his right knee joint was Janus’ soul mark.

“I just happened to spot the same shade of yellow showing through and, well….”

He didn’t need to finish, Virgil was stunned to silence. All this time, how could he have missed it!?

Well, it wasn’t in the easiest to see area, and come to think of it, his mirror was a little too high off the ground for that kind of angle, and with the marks being so small..…..

The revelation was met with a shocked gasp from Roman.

“... Virgil, may I-”

“I’ll just take them off, fucking hell!”

Both men turned away to let Virgil remove his shoes and tights in peace. When he gave them the all clear, Roman was ecstatic to note his own soul mark adorning the left knee joint. Virgil glanced towards his two soulmates, letting out a soft sigh of adoration at their delighted faces. He was feeling a whole rush of emotions, but right now? The last thing he wanted was to waste any more time.

“Gimme a second to pay these guys,”, Virgil gestured to the gaggle of servers set in various expressions of celebratory delight, “Then we can go back to my place and have a movie night.”

Roman and Janus offered sweet smiles to their soulmate; that sounded like the perfect end to a wild night.

---- Bonus (Because I got attached to this universe, fight me) ----

With the cafe clearing out aside a few stragglers, Remy sighed distantly, “Well, it’s a good thing we both won, babes, I didn’t wanna get stuck with all that overtime.”

Logan gave him a perplexed look, “Actually, we both lost, therefore we both should work overtime.”

Remy pulled down his shades to glare at Logan, “.... Are you fucking kidding me? Bitch, we WON, and we get to keep our money, babes. What part of that makes you think “nope, overtime sounds better”!?”

Logan was about to go into the technicalities when he chanced a glance back at his soulmates, watching as Patton excitedly gushed over the night��s events, stimming excitedly with their apron while Emile folded his own and put it away for the night, glad to listen to Patton’s bubbly rambling. Logan couldn’t deny, the idea of staying late while his soulmates were home without him wasn’t an appealing idea. Maybe this once he’d spare Remy a lecture.

“.... You know what, you’re right. Excuse me.”

With that, Logan went to join his soulmates while Remy stifled a fond smirk and went to go ask the last patron to leave. He wanted to just go home and collapse into Remus’ arms. Ugh, he just hoped this dude wasn’t going to make a fuss. He wasn’t sure what kind of guy combined a suit, a beanie, shades, AND a face mask, but Remy just hoped he wasn’t here to rob the place.

“Alright sweetie, you gotta go. We’re closing and I wanna get home to my loveable dumbass. Let’s go-”

The man gestured to his ear. Ah. Remy rolled his eyes and leant down to speak closer,

“I said-“

The man quickly pulled down his face mask and stole a peck from Remy, a grin spreading across his face that curled excitedly to match his moustache.

“You gotta get home to meeeee~.”

Remus took off the sunglasses and beanie, revelling in the surprise that painted itself over Remy’s face. He stood up, wrapping his arms around Remy’s waist as his soulmate tried to form a sentence, “How long have you just been sitting here?!”

“Ever since I figured it’d be funny to watch Virgil realise he was trying to set up his own soulmates-”

“You- Wait, Virgil!? That’s the guy you’re always telling me about?!”

“Yep!”, Remus grinned.

Remy wrapped his arms around Remus’ neck, unsure if he wanted to strangle him or hold him closer, “...Did you know he-”

“Had two soulmates? Yep~!”

Remus chuckled and kissed Remy’s cheek, “Virge and I used to have gym together. He kept saying he couldn’t find his soulmarks, I’m surprised he never got my hints...”

Sighing annoyedly at his soulmate, Remy pulled him in for a proper kiss before he could go on more of a tangent. Once they broke apart, Remy poked Remus’ chest,

“You made me lose thirty bucks, y’know.”

Remus grinned harder and pulled out twenty dollars “Well then, I better take this generous donation from my best friend and treat you to a milkshake on the way home then...”

-----

It’s finally doooone!!

This was a long one for sure, but sue me, I got super into this one!!

I’ll be playing catch up for a while so get ready for Day 11, I ended up with a last minute change and it’s gonna be a tear jerker. @tsshipmonth2020

Taglist: @somehow-i-got-an-account @cateye-glasses @fandomsofrandom

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twokinkybeans · 4 years ago

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The Arachnoids: ROCK BAND AU [Starker] - Chapter 2: ROADIE RUSH

READ “CHAPTER 2 ROADIE RUSH” ON AO3

Other Chapters: Prologue Chapter 1: Soundcheck Setback (To Be Continued)

Taglist: @crystallinecrimsonmoth & @staticwhispersinthedark

Notes: HAPPY NEW YEAR EVERYONE!!!!! <3 - Kim

Find the fic’s masterpost here!

Chapter 2: Roadie Rush

Peter sips from his hot cocoa and sighs happily. It’s so good. With sweet, maple-syrup-covered whipped cream on top of the warm and tasty liquid. He knows he might get a bad case of sugar-rush after this, but god, it tastes too good. He’s glad that there’d been enough time to perform their own soundcheck after all. When The Avengers were done, Tony had disappeared as suddenly as he’d arrived. It still gnaws at Peter. Something… Something about all of it doesn’t seem right. It’s off-ish. As if some of the pieces don’t quite fit the bigger picture. Yet. Of course, even if something is wrong, it doesn’t give the rock star an excuse to be such a pain in the ass to everyone around him.

“I know...” MJ starts and her brows furrow together worriedly, “-that I don’t say this often. But jeez, I’m such a nervous wreck right now.” “Not just you,” Ned adds with a sigh. “My hands are sweating so badly I might lose my sticks one minute into the show.” He chuckles to himself. “Imagine - one of ‘em catapulting right at Stark’s face.” “Ha! Will do him good,” MJ says with a grin. She sits upright and shakes her head. “The man’s an ass. But I won’t let him sour my mood.” “Exactly,” Ned agrees. “Everyone else seems nice. Peter, don’t you think Harley’s nice?”

Peter blushes a bright red and he instantly shakes his head. Of course, he hadn’t missed Harley’s charming smile. Or his nice, lean body. Or- “Just ‘cause I’m gay doesn’t mean I want to date just any dude I meet.” “But, Harley’s nice tho. You know I don’t tend to like folks easily, but Harley sure hits the right vibe.” “Ugh,” Peter groans, but he can’t help the smile on his lips. “Alright, alright, he seems okay enough.” “Just okay?” MJ exclaims and lets herself drop on the couch. She cranes her neck so she can look at him again. “Just you wait- Peter Parker. Just you wait.”

Peter cocks an eyebrow, but doesn’t comment on it. Instead, he sips on his drink again, enjoying the chocolate taste staining on his tongue. Sure thing, Harley does seem nice. Peter has to admit he’d been too preoccupied with Tony Stark to actually notice the roadie. Actually notice him.

And let’s be real, it’s not like Peter will ever see him again after this.

An hour later, they’re all getting ready for the show. They’re squeezed together in the little trailer bathroom- Peter smudges the black eyeliner under his eyes, while Ned brushes his teeth and MJ applies silver beads onto her cheekbones. Slowly, she’s turning into Venus; her stage persona. A small reference to the planet where actual arachnoids are found. “Pete- Can you draw the spider web on my face?” Ned asks and hands him the small bottle of liquid eyeliner. Peter nods and mumbles a quick ‘sorry’ as he switches places with MJ. He grabs the bottle. “Turn your head,” he instructs and Ned obliges. Peter sticks his tongue out when he concentrates on drawing the lines. First, a few straight lines that cross, then the small bendy lines to make it look like an actual web. When he’s finished, he gives the eyeliner back to Ned and grins. “Go ahead. It’s my tu-”

There’s a soft knock on the trailer door and Peter frowns. “I’ll get it!” MJ rushes and struggles her way out of the bathroom. “-Oh, hey! Harley. Come in!” Peter doesn’t miss the smug expression on Ned’s face. “Nice.” Ned mouths and Peter groans exasperated. “Nope. Nope. Ned! It’s not happening!” Peter shakes his head at the small eyebrow wiggle his friend sends him.

“Hey boys!” Harley peeks into the bathroom from behind the corner and he smiles broadly. “You ready for the show?” “Almost,” MJ laughs. “The boys always take their time transforming into lil’ spiders.” “It looks great,” Harley says with a wink, and Peter - thanks to all the comments from his bandmates - blushes. “But,” the roadie continues, “-Tony requested extra time to change the stage settings in between sets. The Avengers have to end at midnight, so we have to bring your set forward. Do you think you can be backstage in five?”

Peter frowns. Again, Tony Stark is the center of the conversation and he doesn’t like it. He nods at Harley, though. “Yeah, we’re nearly done here.” “Good. I’m sorry for not informing you earlier but we just came to this decision like, a minute ago.” “It’s alright.” MJ grabs her silver strapped heels. “Isn’t it, uhm, a runner’s job to, well, run everything? You’re kinda doing everything today?” She asks curiously. Peter hadn’t even noticed and he looks at Harley. The boy shrugs. “Usually, yeah. But no one wants to work for the Big Boss anymore. So I’m an upgraded allround roadie I guess- doing all the tasks I’m not supposed to do,” he jokes. Peter can tell Harley feels bitter about it, so he decides not to dig deeper.

“We’ll be there,” Peter smiles. “And if we can help you after we play our set, please let us know.” “That’s very kind of you, thanks, dude. I think I got it, but I’ll keep it in mind.” Harley cocks his head and gives Peter a playful bump against his shoulder. “See ya in five, then!” And with that, Harley’s gone again.

Peter can’t quite describe what he’s feeling right now. Tonight’s a huge night for them. The biggest show they’ve ever played, by far. Peter doesn’t feel as excited anymore, though. He hates it. He should be worried about slippery hands, or a string breaking, or stumbling over his feet… Not about how the blond roadie will manage his job tonight.

It isn’t until Peter grabs his midnight blue guitar and tightens the strap, that he realizes Ned never got to draw the spider web on his face. Ah well, no one will notice. He hopes. He stares at Harley, the boy running around and hastily making sure that everything works properly. Not even a second later, Harley runs towards them and bounces on the balls of his feet with excitement. “We’re ready, everything’s set up! Once you’re good to go on, the stage is yours.” Harley bites down his lip and smiles at MJ so intently that Peter has to hold himself back from nudging Ned. “After you, Venus.”

MJ’s eyes widen slightly, clearly taken aback by the charming smile and the sweet tone in Harley’s voice. Her lips curl into a smirk though, and she cocks her head to smile back at him. “Ready for take-off?” “Always.” MJ’s eyes sparkle in the dimmed backstage lights and she shakes her head slightly. Harley chuckles, low in his throat, and waves in the direction of the stage. MJ nods firmly and eyes both Ned and Peter. No other words are needed from there. Peter grabs the fretboard tightly and takes a deep breath. Ned twirls the drumsticks between his fingers and huffs, only now realizing what they’re about to do.

Faking confidence, the young band walks into the stage lights. The audience cheers and Peter gasps when he sees just how immensely huge the open-air area looks from up here. It’s… Almost unbelievable. Almost.

“Welcome…” MJ whispers into her microphone once the cheers of the audience die down. She grins. The small silver gems stuck underneath her eyes glimmer in the stage lights. “We are the inner concentric, the outer radial lineament, the spider-like volcano-tectonic structures from Venus. We have come to Earth to give you a hint of the whirling desire that is found on our planet. We are… The Arachnoids!”

Peter’s lips curl into a passionate smile as his grip tightens around the fretboard of his guitar. MJ’s voice starts out soft. So soft, it’s barely audible. Ned lets his drumsticks rain down on his ride cymbal to create a space-like sound; as if stars come raining down from the vastness of space. MJ’s voice goes stronger, jumping up two octaves only to break into a sweet, captivating melody. The audience doesn’t make a single sound. And then, after a small pause in the song that doesn’t even last a second, Peter’s fingers naturally find their way onto the strings and he strums fast. Ned goes wild on the drums and MJ howls into her mic. The crowd goes absolutely nuts and Peter has to take a deep breath to control his emotions. They like him! They like their band!

“Yes, New York!!” MJ screams during the small instrumental part. She’s bouncing on the stage, dancing and laughing and her enthusiasm sends Peter into a buzzy haze. “Who’s ready to party on New Year’s Eve?!”

Next Chapter 3: World Tour Wishes >>

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askbendyinbackstage · 5 months ago

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Alice and Bendy seem happy about this, it has been a long time since they met fans! I am sure we will see the others soon.

#bendy #ask bendy #batim #batim art #batdr art #alice angel #ask blog #bendy ask blog #ask bendy in backstage

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queenofcats17 · 5 years ago

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Oh No, She’s Hot!

I already did some stuff for @bendylovessammy‘s human au, but I was focusing on the trash boyfriends (Sammy and Bendy). Now I’m doing the angel girlfriends.

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Susie Campbell had always been very protective of the role of Alice Angel. Well, perhaps protective was an understatement. Alice Angel was more than just a character to her. She was a part of her. She’d even changed her name to Alice at one point. Alice was who she was. She had no family (aside from Joey and her brothers, but they didn’t really count), no past. Just Alice.

Which was why she’d been so upset when Joey had rebooted the show without her, giving the role of Alice to someone else.

Allison Pendle.

She’d learned about the reboot secondhand. Perhaps the worst way to have learned about it. She’d been watching television while browsing casting calls when it had come on. Suddenly she’d heard that familiar theme music. It had only been a few months since she’d moved out. She’d looked up, only to find someone else wearing Alice’s costume. Someone else was Alice on her screen, wearing her costume, playing her role.

“That’s...That’s my costume!” She yelled, jumping to her feet and knocking her computer to the ground. “That’s mine!” Downstairs, her agent sighed heavily and kept writing.

Alice was seething, but what was she supposed to do? Joey didn’t take criticism, especially not from his children. There was a reason Bendy had preferred to set fire to the house rather than face Joey’s anger at the failure of the show. Nothing was ever Joey’s fault. It always had to be blamed on someone else. If she complained about the reboot...Joey wouldn’t react kindly toward her. So, she had to sit there and stew, watching as someone else played her role.

That had been the been the beginning of her rivalry with Allison. Well, rivalry might not have been the best word for it. Alice had declared Allison her ultimate rival (aside from her brother that was), but Allison didn’t really know Alice existed. Alice had sent her a few nasty tweets, none of which Allison had responded to. Other than that, Alice mostly just hated her from afar. She’d been relieved when Allison had dropped off the map in terms of acting. It meant less competition for her. She was Alice Angel. Her. Not Allison. Her.

She hadn’t been able to find much success in acting, though. She was a good actress, one of the best. The problem was that she was a nightmare to work with. She was an entitled little diva; demanding, uncooperative, and selfish. She yelled at directors, her fellow stars, the crew. People tended to threaten to quit when they had to work with her. And thus everyone came to the decision that her talent wasn’t worth her diva behavior. Alice concluded that this was because of her scars, going on rants about how shallow everyone could be.

No matter how many failures she encountered, though, she kept going. Acting was all she had. And she had to prove she was better than Allison.

Alice didn’t see Allison again until the reunion show hosted by David Wright. It was, predictably, a disaster. Bendy showed up with a boyfriend, looking better than he had in years. The two of them fought the way they always had, with Alice displaying more venom due to her jealousy. How had Bendy managed to find a significant other before her?! Especially one who had a stable job and actually seemed like a decent person. It wasn’t fair! Bendy had set their house on fire and lived on the street for years! He was a dumpster fire of a human being!

By the time Allison was called on, Alice was furious. She was fuming backstage, grumbling to herself about how unfair this all was. Bendy’s segment had ended, and thus she had no one to take her anger out on, leaving her to simmer by herself. Then she heard her voice.

Allison.

Alice whirled around, storming over to the stage to unload her anger on her hated rival. She stopped in her tracks once she got a look at her, her heart beginning to pound.

Oh no.

Oh no, this was bad.

Allison Pendle lounged on the couch, legs crossed and one arm slung over the back while she gestured with another. She wore a tank top and shorts that showed off the powerful muscles in her arms and legs. Her dark hair cascaded down her back, so black it almost looked blue. She had quite a few piercings in her ears. Some of them looked like cartilage piercings. Her perfect thick eyebrows were cocked in amusement, the corners of her mouth curled up in a grin.

She was hot.

“Yeah, acting just wasn’t for me.” She was saying, shrugging those broad shoulders. “After the show ended, I just kind of quit. I ended up getting really into weight lifting.”

“It certainly looks like you’ve been doing rather well for yourself.” The host, David Wright, remarked with a laugh. She was most definitely doing well for herself, Alice thought as she crept closer. Her mind began to wander. She could imagine how comforting it would be to be held by those strong arms.

“She can bench three times her body weight,” Tom smirked, leaning back against the couch.

“I haven’t gotten there yet.” Allison swatted at his shoulder. “Don’t go spreading rumors like that.”

“Do I detect a spark between you two?” David asked. Immediately, Alice’s heart fell. She prepared herself for disappointment, for the confirmation that another woman she found herself falling for would never feel the same way.

Instead, Allison rolled her eyes in a familiar display of long-suffering irritation.

“Just because Tom and I get along doesn’t mean we’re dating.” Her voice took on an edge. “Besides, I’m a lesbian.” Alice let out an inadvertent gasp, drawing the attention of those on stage to her.

“Is that Susie?” Allison peered past David, her face lighting up as she caught sight of Alice. “Hey!” David’s gaze flicked over to her as well, a frown briefly flashing across his face.

“Well, I’d been planning on waiting, but if she’s already here.” He gestured for Alice to come on. Alice stood up a bit straighter, trying to keep herself calm and dignified as she stepped on. She had a reputation to uphold. She had to impress Allison.

It....did not go well. Not knowing how to deal with her feelings, she’d launched herself at the other woman and tried to kill her. There had been a lot of screaming and yelling from everyone present, especially David. Security had been forced to remove her from the premises while Allison was present. She’d managed to give Allison a black eye.

Alice sat on the curb outside, mentally cursing herself. Gods, she’d screwed everything up. Allison wouldn’t want anything to do with her now.

“Hey? Alice?” Alice scrambled to her feet at the sound of Allison’s voice, whirling around. Allison stood behind her, holding two coffees.

“What? What do you want?” Alice snapped. “Are you here to rub your success in my face?” She could feel tears welling up in her eyes.

“Nah. I was just wondering if you wanted a coffee.” Allison held out the cup to her. Alice looked at her, then looked at the cup. Surely, this had to be a trick. There was no way Allison would actually offer her anything.

“I mean, if you don’t want it now, I can always treat you to one later.” Allison’s smile widened. “I’d need your phone number, though.”

“No, I want it. I just...” Alice reached for the cup, then trailed off as she realized what Allison had just said. She froze, her eyes going wide as her face went red. Allison watched her expectantly.

“Did you just...ask me on a date?” Alice asked, slowly looking up at Allison.

“Do you want to go on one?” Allison answered her with a question of her own. “I know we didn’t get off on the best foot, but I’m a big fan of your acting.” Alice’s heart skipped a beat.

“Well, if you insist.” She took the cup, trying to remain cool and aloof. “Give me your phone. I’ll put my number in.” She was internally screaming as Allison handed her phone over and she began typing in her number. This didn’t happen to her. Ever.

“Great!” Allison grinned once she had the phone back in her hand. “Why don’t you hit me up with times you’re free and we can work something out?”

“That would be...nice.” Alice nodded. Allison gave her a wink, striding past her. Alice stood there for a long time, holding the coffee cup in her hands.

“Take that, Bendy.” She muttered to herself with a smirk.

#bendy and the ink machine #human au #susie campbell x allison pendle #susie campbell #alice angel #allison pendle #fanfiction #tw: mentions of abuse #thomas connor

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buri-art · 6 years ago

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Wuqiao Acrobatics World

A few years ago while trying to keep my Mandarin skills in tact, I saw a short documentary about Wuqiao, Hebei Province, said to be the birthplace of Chinese acrobatics, and where all the villagers can at least do some acrobatics (I treat that saying with a big grain of salt, but phrases like this do have some impact on local identity). For my last six-day backpacking trip in China, I planned it around going to Wuqiao for a day trip and seeing this circus-y place myself.

I’ll start out by saying that if you don’t speak Chinese or feel very comfortable getting around in a place that speaks no English, I wholeheartedly recommend going with a tour group from Beijing or Tianjin if you want to go here yourself. The venue is designed for groups with coordinated performance times and dependable transportation. I found this out through trial and error and missed a few morning performances that way. Sniffle!

Anyway, if you search “Wuqiao” in English most of the results will be the same short article on multiple websites and several tours designed for foreign travelers from Beijing, so while I don’t have a specific recommendation, I can say that Chinese tour guides will vary a lot and as long as you have a small group, you’ll have an easier time getting a good guide who will be flexible to your interests. So now onto my June 19, 2018 experience!

Sometimes when people talk smack about tour groups, they say it’s because they want to the see the “real” things, not touristy things. I see where this comment is coming from; sometimes a superficial run-around of a handful of packed locations that the locals never go to and then hours spent being shoved into gift shops is going to make it feel like you learned nothing in a foreign country except for the stresses of international travel. However, as someone who has worked in foreign tourism before, I want to point out a couple things: 1. If you have a good guide, you’re going to get a far more awesome experience than you might have been able to plan on your own. You’re not lame for enjoying the good (and often amazing) services of a tour operator who cares about giving you a good time. 2. In China, you’re getting something “real” anyway. That was one of my biggest impressions of this very dilapidated tourist venue.

“This is so China,” I thought.

To boil the past several decades of Chinese economic history down simply, China has lifted millions of people from starving to having disposable income (it can’t be understated how large of a feat this has been, though poverty is still a significant issue). When a population goes from “most people are so poor that everyone stays put” to “whoa, we have... money?? Um... let’s do fun stuff! Let’s go places!!”, this is what gives birth to the development of domestic tourism. And China, as you might guess, is chock full of amazing landscapes and historical locations.

China got this great idea: Now that people are making money, let’s make them spend money, so we can make more money!

China, more so than any other place I’ve been, will find any way it can to monetize a tourism destination. Is there a cool rock? Put a fence around it to obstruct the view, make people pay to see it. Is the lake too big to put a fence around it? Have Zhang Yimou make an “Impression” show there and have people pay to see that! Too big of an area to charge admission at each spot? Block off the whole area and add some nifty transportation options inside. No possible way to block it off because the historic area is in actual daily use? Call in the vendors, kids, we’re still going to make something off of this!

Yes, I’ve been to places with free admission, and often I only stopped in because they were free admission. And I rather liked a lot of those free places, yes. But in general, if you’re traveling to see something, you’re going to pay to see it, even if it means paying admission to even get closer to a village.

But that means building stuff to justify it being something to see and spend money on. That means, with extra money suddenly available to you and/or pressure from above to make something snazzy and brag-worthy really fast, you build a lot of things. Domestic tourists have come to expect big fancy stuff, and construction makes this world (or at least this country) go round!

And then you do the press reports. Take some good pictures. Have people make a cool documentary. Welcome the tour groups, stay busy while the place is shiny.

And then let it fall into disrepair.

There are many tourism facilities in China which are really, really nice, and kept that way. But there are also not only tourism projects finished and then abandoned, or slowed indefinitely partway. This is pretty “real.” It’s not just tourism; this is very “real” for a lot of China’s rapid economic development and construction projects, even entire new cities that they couldn’t get anyone to move into.

So yes, by coming to Wuqiao Acrobatic World, you’re getting a very real experience of what modern day China is like, especially outside of the biggest cities or especially famous tourism facilities.

But you know what makes that awesome? The people here were so much fun to interact with.

Before leaving on my trip, I told some Chinese friends and coworkers where I was going, and they had never heard of Wuqiao. When I told them about it, some reacted in horror that I’m interested in acrobatics. “But it’s so sad,” one friend said. “The kids go through so much pain to train like that.”

Yes, the performance arts and competitive sports worlds of China have a long and ongoing history of this. But I also really, really like watching circuses. If someone loves their art and works hard at it, then I want to watch them, I want to be impressed by them, I want to reward that hard work by giving it my attention. I’ve had some fun experiences in the past with helping backstage when grassroots level diplomatic groups of performers went to my college in the US or in the city I worked for in Japan, and I’ll never forget how spirited those Chinese contortionists were, and how easy they made being bendy look.

So anyway. In all this preamble I haven’t even gotten to my travels yet. I took a morning train in from Tianjin and with only some little red tuk-tuk like cars with three wheels available for transportation, I went with a guy who gave me a ride for 5 RMB (about 77 US cents). He was a nice old guy who also picked me up later right on time for my return that afternoon. But, uh, one of the doors of the little vehicle wouldn’t close.

It’s a short ride, but not really walking distance, especially if you only have about six hours to spend there. The town is still mostly farming community, on the platform of the train station you can watch people take care of sheep and stack up dry reeds. The town is hot and dry in summer with smooth traffic, wide roads, and no tall buildings. I arrived at the Acrobatics World on a weekday morning with no line to get tickets and enter.

There were a few scattered people who stared and whispered (loudly), “Whoa, it’s a foreigner,” a phrase that after a while either bounces off of you completely or piles up on you so much that by the end of a trip off the beaten path you think your trapezius will snap if you hear it again. I found buildings under construction and a temple, and because many tourism facilities have temples built into them, I assumed I’d politely go straight through it. Not so! Turns out you go around this one, which I would have had no idea about had a woman not approached me and told me so.

So, with no one in sight (an odd sight in and of itself at a tourism facility in China), I went hunting for the acrobats.

I hunted a long time, saw a few people here and there. Passed a few people making noise in what looked like a wuxia version of a renaissance festival fairground, but according to the maps, I decided to press northward, looking for, well, whatever it was I was looking for, or at least trying to figure out what all was there.

Well, like, nobody, basically. A few people here and there, but mostly some lonely statues in various groupings around a wide park, some architectural pieces ignored and serving no purpose, some poorly kept animals (I chose not to check out the “Funny Zoo” area), but mostly big expanses of nobody. After living in a place like Shanghai for a while--a place unkind to introverts--you come to really appreciate those periods of nobodyness, and walking around this place had the same sort of bizarre allure of photos of abandoned, flooded shopping malls.

This would be such a great spot for hanfu photoshoots with nobody in your way! But I’d need someone to take the photos, something to wear in the photos, and a much better hair day than I was having on that whole trip.

Anyway, based on the size of the building, I had assumed that I reached the “main spot” I was aiming for, whatever that was.

This was a combination of performance space and museum, so I started at the museum. When I approached there were a couple women hanging out on the red queuing gates, not quite doing acrobatics, but not keeping their feet on the ground either. They were surprised to see me, and I asked if I could go in, and they were like, “um... okay,” and turned the lights on inside. I asked if I could take pictures, and they said yes. While enjoying myself in the first room of the winding exhibits, I heard them talking to each other and saying, “She asked if she could go in. Then she asked if she could take photos.” What I wish I would have overheard them saying would have been something like, “What the hell is she doing over here, doesn’t she know that the only action taking place in this whole facility is going on as scheduled over in the Jianghu Culture City ren-faire-ish-place?” But I heard no such thing, and enjoyed the museum in ignorance.

As far as Chinese museums are concerned, they’re a very mixed bag, but I rather liked the contents of this simple, small one. Everything had good English translations--and by that I don’t mean clear and grammatical, but actually useful content that puts what you’re seeing into context. Here are a few bits I liked:

Not all of the rooms were as interesting as others; and although I have a passing interest in how Chinese circus is used diplomatically, I didn’t have enough of one to stay in those exhibits for long. I was starting to get the sense that I was missing out on the performances. If I felt less rushed and was there with friends, however, I probably would have had a great time in this room, with this corner of traditional circus props, easily in arms’ reach and not mounted in place.

Nothing said not to play with them, but nothing said that it was okay to touch them either. I decided to err on the side of doubt. After all, assuming such things in the past had lead me to get bitten by a penguin.

Back to acrobats, I zoomed through the very empty painting and gift shop (if it can even be called that) rooms, where the people working there did not even look up from their phones. After that I found where they keep the horses (poor, skinny horses... let’s not even get to those bored, chained monkeys I saw later with nothing and nobody around to prevent a wandering tourist from walking right up to them--I imagine that could have been more disastrous than my encounter with the penguin). Then I found--what?? People??? What’s more, it was like a group of moms and a couple little kids watching some teens in capes on a round stage, the Red Peony stage. I asked if I could watch, and finally, these people told me what I wish someone would had told me in the first place:

All the performances are scheduled in different locations. The Jianghu Culture City has the morning and late afternoon performances, and the northern buildings and horse track have the early afternoon shows. Ohhhhhh, no wonder.

So I hurried over to where all the smart tourists and their group guides were; watching this guy.

I only caught the tail end of his act, and from the looks of the stage he must had been smashing bricks with his face or something earlier, who knows. He climbed down the handles of the swords at the end of his act, but if I had gotten there earlier, I assume I would have seen something like this:

Hmm. Not super sharp at tourist-reach, but still, ouch.

Immediately after that everyone shuffled over to this tent for some other folk acrobatics by a little troupe: Some lovely ladies young and not-as-young, some burly men, a dwarf, and a guy from the audience picked out for the knife-throwing show who had the build, expression, and haircut of a circus performer himself. He was at the other shows that day too, so I don’t suspect he was a plant. Chinese men just have some weird haircuts, that’s all.

Couldn’t really get good pictures in there, but you had a girl sitting on a chair balanced on a swinging trapeze, a routine with blocks complete with juggling and handstands and flips, the aforementioned knife-thrower who doubled as the clown of the show, a jar juggler who catches the big jar on his head and neck, a jar juggler who spins a much, much, much, much larger iron jar on her feet that three burly men needed to lift together, and this lady doing what you see here:

A note here about those tour groups---they were overwhelmingly made up of middle age men. I did see a few families with small children, some younger couples, and a fair number of women mixed with the men, but the groups of men who all knew each other was striking. Maybe I just happened to go on a day when they were planning big outings, who knows.

After that, there was a very, very small “performance” in this little back-alley area of the Jianghu Culture City, where there were many performance areas with signs stating the folk artist and their performing times, but with seating areas filled with, well, seats that they had probably pulled out of other areas and had not yet taken to the dump.

That said, some of the area felt downright homey. I was the only person over there at first when a lady was about to do her sales pitch--I mean, “performance” explaining that they were selling fans decorated with the origins of the 100 most common Chinese surnames. Many of the men bought them for 30 RMB each ($4.61 USD). I got one for my roommate since her surname is rather uncommon, she hadn’t seen something like that before and found it interesting.

Anyway, the lady there was very friendly, and insisted I put my heavy backpack down on her chair so I could relax while looking around (she also insisted I leave it there while enjoying my afternoon, but I declined). She would have been the right person to meet right away when I got to the park, she explained the whole schedule of the park (which I had mostly figured out by then) and helped me to plan how to make the best of my time left that afternoon, and she walked with me part way to the only place to get food in the whole area. She was on her way home for lunch, she said. Everyone working there is local and all the performers go home for lunch, except the director, who often has to show VIP guests around. Since she was so cheerfully talking about the place and clearly took pride in this being their local claim to fame (I got that sense from a few other people too), I considered asking if it was true that everyone could do at least a little acrobatics. I decided against asking, but kind of wish I had.

If you do ever get there and want to make sure you get to the see every performance offered from the moment the park opens, you do have the option of staying at the Red Peony Hotel! This is really your only option for food anyway. The staff was very friendly (and not overly friendly, so I could thankfully eat my meal in peace!), though I can’t say the food or ambiance was anything special, even for a tourist facility.

The fish sauce tasted like ketchup.

It was a really long lunch break. I imagine that’s when wiser people would have walked around the odd groupings of statues and architecture of questionable purpose in the park, or gone to the museum to play with hula hoops and throw ceramic jars at each other. I went out to the empty horse track to reapply sunscreen, smell the nature, listen to birds, and gaze into the lotus pond. And frown at how skinny the horses were.

The Red Peony theater opened at 1:30pm. There was a very small line; I was one of the first people there and got a good seat in a round theater that looked like it could hold up to 200 audience members. People continued to trickle in for 25 minutes. They were starting late that day, they said, blaming it on either having VIP tour groups who take their time or having foreign performers who take their time. For twenty minutes they played a Backstreet Boys song on repeat, and I looked at the apparatuses around the stage--a small Russian swing, three aerial hoops of different sizes, a couple silks, a triple-wheeled Wheel of Death (does it have a different name when three people are cheating death?) behind a curtain, a large net hung up out of the way, and some set pieces that looked like a wooden ship set to either side of the stage. After twenty minutes of Backstreet Boys they played the entirety of Hotel California before starting the show.

They had signs forbidding photography and Yours Truly is a rule-follower even in China where these silly rules about video recording are flat-out ignored even at Cirque du Soleil performances, so I doodled the show on the train a few hours later.

This was no Cirque du Soleil, let’s be clear about that. It was more like the community theater version of a Broadway show; everyone was doing their best but items were unintentionally dropped and costume pieces flew off, but everyone was encouraging because the kids were doing their best.

Let’s look back at a few parts of that sentence: 1. Encouraging audience: Chinese audiences can be extremely frustrating to perform in front of, because they are so likely to chat among themselves or play on their phones--I charitably chalk this up to a cultural difference that historically elevates the pleasure of the audience over the hard work of performers, but it still drives me crazy in my current job that involves training kids to do things in front of audiences. That said, this works in another way--when a Chinese audience is engaged, they’ll be very, very engaged, and even if these performers were dropping their stuff, they still kept the audience’s attention and smiles and applause, so it’s all good.

2. Their best: Sure, they weren’t the sort of performers I’d expect to see if I paid the big ticket price to go watch the Shanghai Circus, which is primarily geared toward foreign tourists. But they are still insanely skilled and have obviously poured hours and hours and hours of their life into this. Also, very importantly, many (but not all...) of them look like they truly enjoy it. As a point of comparison, I went to the Shaolin Temple eight years ago, and the whole little town of Dengfeng surrounding it was filled with schoolyards of boys from all over China studying there to fulfill their kung fu dreams. The boys in the temple, however, are often problem children sent there for discipline. I watched the show they put on, which the adults are full-on performers for. The boys also performed amazing stunts, but the whole time looked like they were sick and tired of tourists and having to do the same flips and feats every day. It was unintentionally funny to see such bored, sour looks on their faces as they were soaring through the air. The performers in this show did see themselves as performers and acted like it--though the expressions came much more naturally to some than others.

3. Kids: Yeah, no two-ways about it, the vast majority of this cast looked very, very young. This includes both the foreign troupe and the local Chinese kids. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if none of the local performers in this show were adults. Even the stage crew looked like they were all teenagers.

My friends’ words about “aren’t you sad for them, having to do all that painful training?” rang through my head during a couple of the performances in particular. The five contortionists smiled charmingly and performed without mishap, but I was very afraid that someone was going to break in one way or another. Their bodies shook with both unbalance and strain, and sitting that close to the stage, I could read some “uh oh” in their faces at times. The rollerskating show was charming at first with the pairings of what looked like high school boys with elementary school boys, all of whom kept a gracious performer’s attitude the whole time, even with small mishaps. At the end of the act they spun the little boys around by cords on their necks (like the graceful aerial hoop duo had done in a less startling way). Despite being really impressed, my stomach churned with pity for them.

The foreign troupe had quite a mix as well of veteran and less-veteran performers, and some mishaps here and there, but overall good shows. They seemed a little casual and self-managed, like one of the kids who performed earlier in the show snuck out into the middle of the audience later to watch his buddy and then sneak backstage again. I had to wonder about them too--how long were they going to be in Wuqiao? Did they go to other places around the world too? Did they choose the circus life, or did the circus life choose them?

Before getting dragged too deep into wondering about the darker sides I know exist behind something I love watching perhaps a little bit more than the average person does, the clown came out.

The very, very, very white, platinum blonde clown.

She and the person in a polar bear suit did a charming, although not particularly funny or impressive routine, but what struck me most was how naturally she lit up being on stage, and that she might had been told in clown schools that she was “too pretty” to be a clown (something I recall hearing about happening to many young women who try to go into that). What was really captivating about this clown was that it was like she wanted more than anything to be a clown, and she looked like she was having the time of her life.

At the end of the show the performers all came out to, well, not do a final bow persay, but wave at all the tourists on their way out to go to the “Home of the Demon Hand” theater across from the Red Peony Theater. I let things clear out before standing up, and the clown saw me, locked eyes, and very smilingly said, “AMAZING!!”

Amazing to see another lone white girl there, I’m sure.

We were both on our way out in opposite directions, but we had the following conversation: Me: Where are you from? Her: Ukraine! Me (pointing to the guest performers heading backstage without her): Where are they from? Her: (wild look over her shoulder, a look back at me, a giant shrug and nervous laughter)

We waved and then went our separate ways, but I wanted to say, “Come back here, girl, give me your life story.”

Instead I went to the next show and squeezed into what I thought would give me a good view of the sleight-of-hand tricks that old’ Demon Hand was apparently famous enough for to have his own theater hall.

The 74-year-old man in a silk outfit (the top of which he later took off to prove he had nothing up his sleeve) and ponytail started the show by very, very firmly insisting on no photographs, but they had the option of getting a logo’d photograph with him before the show. A small crowd of people, mostly middle age men but a spunky younger woman too, went up and forked over their cash.

To be honest, I got really irritated for the first ten minutes or so of the show. He was a gifted performer, yes, but he was more of an improve comedian who talked a big game (his sleight of hand tricks were impressive, yes, but they made up a very, very small portion of his show). Furthermore, I couldn’t see very well around the guy in front of me, so I had to lean forward and to the sides. It was so much trash talk with men in the audience that I couldn’t follow very well (my Chinese is good, but not enough to understand all the humor), and it wasn’t very possible to stand up and leave without calling a huge amount of attention to myself.

Call attention to myself I did anyway.

As part of his goading the audience, he invites skeptics to come crowd around him and watch him closely to verify his tricks. I stayed put, not really in the mood for all the talk and just wanting to see some impressive tricks to justify my staying put. Well, he saw me, and pointed everyone’s attention in my direction, and I had to announce where I was from, and he ordered me down to his side to watch.

So I sat directly next to him and had to play along with the “I’ll show you some real Chinese kung fu!” bravado and do my best to answer any quick questions he shot at me to answer, like “how many are under the cup?”.

He made some men bet their cigarettes on a few tricks, and was accumulating a stack of cigarette boxes on the table. The number of people standing, sitting, and squatting around him dwindled. I awkwardly stayed put because I knew he’d call me out if I tried to escape, so better that I stayed there and ready to quip back the next time he quipped something at me. And yeah, I totally had a better view of the tricks and could appreciate them a lot more from the table-eye view, so it was my luck that I was the one foreign face in the room.

Toward the end of the routine he dared anyone in the rowdy audience to come sit in his chair and do the tricks themselves to make a bet. No one did.

He told me to sit in the chair.

I half-way expected that. Thankfully I can play along well as the casual “I just came here to have a good time, I don’t know what you’re making me do and I never asked for this, but okay, tell me what to do” young foreign beauty* there to make the show more interesting for the audience.

*(This is how the locals describe me, and they often insist on taking photos with me. Often without permission. Often when I am looking my worst from days of backpacking in hot weather with tired looking skin, extremely unruly hair, and practical although unflattering outfits.)

He asked me to place a bet, but I think we had some difficulty understanding each other’s Mandarin, because he’s got a thick local accent and I have a foreign one.

Him: You don’t smoke, do you? Place a bet for something else. Me: Me? Him: What do you want? Food or something? Me: ...how about something sweet? Him: Money!? Me: No, sweets... Him: No no no, we can’t do money. Come on, there’s no point if you don’t bet anything. Hmm. Tell you what. If you win, I’ll make you my ghdrtsmplwssz. Me: (His what???)

I have no clue what he said. My guess is something along the lines of either “disciple” or “bride.”

Well, the coolest part was that he had me hold one little styrofoam ball in my hand, and next thing you know, I had two of them in my hand, and that was pretty impressive, enough to make the whole show’s worth of trash talk worth the experience.

And then he had me stand up with him and he thanked me as the audience applauded, and he introduced me as his ghdrtsmplwssz, everyone clapped, and then he hugged me a few times from different angles so a couple sides of the audience could see my face. I played along with a wide-eyed “what the hell is going on, save me” look.

And then he went in for the smooch.

I can do the “pure innocent maiden who blushes at the sight of a man’s lips” routine really well. Plus, practicing martial arts makes me really fast at blocking incoming attacks like this that I have faced at a few times throughout my life, so the dramatic hand in the air, lean backwards, and turned maidenly face were all automatic rather than calculated.

We repeated this a few times, with the lean getting more comically pronounced each time. He tried to insist that this is what they do in America (like the hug), but my maidenly virtue won out in the end, and he graciously played it off and gave me the send off back to my seat in the audience. Sorry dude, I’m stubborn about kissing strangers.

After that was the horse show. I skipped it and went back to the Jianghu Culture City to catch some of the repeats of morning shows I missed.

Which was really only one. A lady saw me walking around and tried to help me plan where to be at the right time, in a helpful, non-pushy way (I am so grateful when I get this mix of helpful and non-pushy). The only other show I had time to see was Chuipotian, the suona (horn) performer. His bio introduces him well:

It was a short show with just a few audience members, including a couple women who wanted photos with me and a girl who looked around one year old who kept wandering off so her dad had to chase her while mom enjoyed the show. I found his crosstalk with the audience a lot more enjoyable than Demon Hand’s, though I had to stay on my toes to make responses here too.

As for the sound of the suona, it’s like a screaming duck. If you’ve ever seen Beijing Opera, you can probably recognize its sound. (I don’t think it’s used as much in southern opera styles. On that note, I find southern styles more melodic.) It was a fun cacophony of a show.

He mostly used smaller ones, this just makes for the funnest photo. He also included some non-instrument related tricks, like taking a lit cigarette from someone and doing tricks with the smoke, swallowing the cigarette, and pulling it out of his ear, still lit. All while reminding you that smoking is harmful to your health.

Immediately after the show, the ladies with him pulled me aside and started teaching me his catchphrase. They caught on through the crosstalk and a little conversation before the show that I’d be a good person to do a little social media routine for them, saying “(Something I could not for the life of me understand but sounded catchy), he’s the real deal from Wuqiao, CHUIPOTIAN!” After rehearsing it several times to make sure I got it right, and the woman in red holding the camera directing me to just be big and fun with it, we recorded it with me standing next to him, looking into the camera, and pointing at him. They were all very pleased with my good work and looked forward to uploading it.

They were super nice and fun to talk to (there weren’t any other immediate performances to watch while everyone else was still at the horse show), and Chuipotian gave me his business card so we could be friends on WeChat, but within ten minutes of taking my leave I dropped it. Good thing I’m not a juggler.

My friend the 5 RMB driver with the one functional door met me right at the appointed time, and people chilling at the train station were also very aware of me. They were a great mix of kind and looking out for me, but not all up in my business. I appreciate it greatly.

And then I left on a crowded, cheapest-seat car of a train that would take over three hours to reach Tianjin. I had enjoyed the day and all the people I got to interact with the (even old Demon Hand, I guess), but being an introvert, I was grateful to have the chance to chill and make the above doodles in my notebook.

But then people figured out I understand Chinese and started chatting with me.

For three straight hours.

To be honest, it’s been a while since I’ve been in the position to play a vehicle of foreign exchange for hours and hours at a time, and it can be fun, but it’s such a relief when you can rest.

And rest I did, on the night train I switched to in Tianjin to get to my next stop on the trip. I slept pretty well for it being on the cheapest berths, stacked three-high with little more than the average Chinese man’s body width. After maneuvering on the top berth with my heavy backpack, I felt like a pretty good circus performer myself.

#China #circus

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im-abanana · 7 years ago

Text

-The Demon and The Angel- ch.4

Wrote the fourth chapter of this Alice x Bendy (Benlice) One-Shot collection, too. Hope you’ll like it, folks.

AO3 link: http://archiveofourown.org/works/12736851/chapters/29045748

Oh, thank you a lot for the 800 followers, you’re all sweeties!

Summary: Her ivory horns were what made Alice a fallen angel, and were her best natural weapon, too. But when you crash your head against a wall and get stuck, you could use some unwanted “help” from your dance partner.

-Stuck-

Alright, maybe she hadn’t had the greatest idea ever this time.

“Dammit…” Alice weakly whined and panted to regain her precious breath, pressing her pale palms against the hard wall in front of her face and pushing against it with all her might, but nothing changed: she barely moved a single muscle, plus she failed to extract her ivory horns from the fragile plasterboard. Oh, and Bendy’s coarse laughing wasn’t helping her at all, obviously. “Shut your mouth, Bendy! This is all your fault!”.

“My fault, really? Yeah, that’s a good one, toots.” the arrogant dancer proudly smirked and lazily leaned against a wooden chair, watching the satisfying scene with interested eyes and his usual wide, smug grin. “Let me remind you what exactly happened just a minute ago, babe: you’re the one who ran towards me like a crazy bull, swinging those giant horns of yours like a weapon just because you can’t take a joke and, most important, you’re the one who got those so-called antlers deeply stuck into the wall when I dodged the attack.” the presumptuous star explained and gently rubbed his chin, sticking out his forked tongue in a funny way: revenge, sweet revenge. “Fair enough sweetheart, our dad Joey and our uncle Henry told you a long time ago to stop using those pointy things on your skull to threaten other people, because you could badly injure someone… or yourself, in this case. See what happens? Good job, Angel Cake!” he finally concluded, clapping sarcastically.

“Just wait until I free myself, I’ll tear that little cunt mouth of yours to tiny pieces.” the beautiful angel angrily swore and squirmed with more energy, perceiving a stinging sensation around her narrow shoulders and her dance partner’s laughter increasing as she pitifully dropped down on her knees for the umpteenth time, standing on all-fours and grunting in defeat. “And I can’t fucking take a joke, you say? You call throwing hot coffee at me a joke? How stupid can you be? You jackass, disgusting, foolish, retard son of a b-”.

“Woah, watch your language Alice, you’re the angel here.” Bendy shushed the irritated angelic cartoon and slyly winked, removing his white gloves and placing them aside, on the nearby table. “What would your beloved fans think about it? Those poor, innocent children…”.

“Bendy, for the last time, I’m definitely not in the best mood to joke around with you right now. My neck, head and back hurt, and I just can’t get my horns out! I’m stuck!” Alice angrily yelled and squirmed wildly, trying to back up and possibly break free from that awkward position, her ivory horns still deeply lodged in the plasterboard wall. Grunting furiously and knowing that she needed to change her strategy if she wanted to resolve the situation by herself, the fallen angel watched the short demon, who was standing (now silently) right behind her with his arms crossed, immediately noticing his naughty expression and realizing what he was looking at. “Could you please stop staring at my ass for a moment and help me, you stupid little cretin!? Or call the others, at least!”.

“What should I do? Joey, Boris and Henry left, so I can’t do anything for you, Angel Cake. Nice view from here, by the way.” Bendy smugly chuckled and lifted an eyebrow as he admired her currently defenseless body, a mischievous idea making him grin and approach the wary singer carefully. “But now that I think about it, I guess I could make our waiting a little more enjoyable, toots~” the devil maliciously licked his dry lips and two of his fingers, his other hand grabbing the soft edge of her black dress and quickly lifting the refined fabric without asking permission. “It’s the least I could do, right? Relax, baby girl~”.

Guessing his not-so-chaste intentions and gasping loudly in realization, the angelic cartoon growled and frowned, staring at the discolored wall in front of her visage and perceiving her co-worker’s wet fingers caressing her pale thighs, slowly traveling up to stimulate her off-limits areas. “Bendy, I swear to God: touch me again and I’ll murder you. As I said, I’m not in the right mood for-! M-mngh~” Alice blushed and bit back an instinctive moan, her spine arching elegantly as her partner boldly brushed a sensitive spot, ignoring the threats and snickering in satisfaction. “G-get your filthy hands off me, now!”.

“Com’on Angel Cake, don’t tell me you’re shy! We did this plenty of times backstage, after our performances, remember?” the arrogant black-haired dancer cooed and looked at her beautiful form with a pretty dumb face, hungrily drooling on the ground and sticking his forked tongue out, the temptation simply too strong for him to overcome. “And you totally loved it, right?” Bendy shamelessly added, but when his sneaky hand cupped a particular area he shouldn’t have touched, the killer look on the fallen angel’s face, and especially the frightening, dark noise that escaped from her throat, made him understand that he maybe fucked things up.

“Holy fucking Trinity, Bendy! I SAID GET OFF!” Alice literally screamed at that point and used all her strength to strike Bendy in the face with her left leg, hitting his nose and causing it to bleed copiously, black ink dripping everywhere. In the powerful process, the singer’s entire body managed to violently jerk backwards, her sharp horns destroying the remains of the wall and pulverizing that plasterboard prison: she was free, she was finally free! Oh, but not pleased at all. In fact, the young and majestic singer looked a lot more like a demon than like a flawless angel, actually.

Getting up ponderously and shaking off the grayish powder, the angelic cartoon lowly growled and walked decisively towards the poor Bendy, her pitch black orbs turning reddish for a moment as she met the terrified gaze of the tiny devil. “Bendy, my dearest.” Alice gave him a fake smile and swung her dangerous white horns, chasing after the dancing demon as he immediately ran off, screaming in pure fear and knowing he’d better retreat. “If I catch you, you’re a dead man! Get back here, you coward! I said come back!” the infuriated young woman promised, rushing in the empty corridors to catch her co-worker and preferably beat the living shit out of him. “No, listen up, I have a better idea! I’ll return the favor! I won’t kill you, I’ll simply shove my own, dry fingers up your ass! Let’s see if you like it!”.

“DAD JOEY! UNCLE HENRY! BORIS! SOMEBODY HELP MEEEE!” Bendy desperately shouted for help and literally threw himself inside his private room, rapidly locking the thick door on the inside and breathing a liberating sigh of relief as he believed it was finally over. Or so he thought: after just a moment of complete silence, the solid layer of wood that separated the scared demon from the pissed angel broke down because of a brute kick of hers, and the last thing Bendy saw before letting out a girlish scream and crashing down was Alice jumping on him with an aggressive yell.

In the meantime, inside the nearby room, Barley let out a resigned sound as he heard those high-pitched noises coming from the changing room of the star of the show, guessing what was probably going on: troubles, blood, kicks and punches, nothing new after all. He picked a random card from stock, playing poker with his boss Charley and with his buddy Edgar, sipping his beer and rolling his concentrated eyes as another irritating scream reached his ears. “Do ya guys think he’s already dead?”.

“Pff, maybe, judging by the sound of it. Actually, I sure hope so. I can’t stand that arrogant little shit.” Charley coldly replied with poor interest and lit a cigar, not really caring about the other two characters’ conditions and focusing on the complicated game while smoking. “Not that I give a freakin’ damn about that foolish devil, that cunt girlfriend of his or that pathetic excuse of a dog.”.

“I don’t really understand Bendy and Alice, gang. I mean, one minute they’re beating each other to death, just like now, the next they’re all cuddly and making out in a shady corner.” Edgar shrugged it off and slightly grimaced as he recalled the number of times the unaware crew caught the devil and the fallen angel kissing, scratching the smooth top of his stylized head and huffing out, giving up and putting a card on the messy table. “Oh, well. Like Joey always says: <Don’t meddle in a quarrel between a husband and his wife>, I guess.”.

“Well said, Edgar.” the other two members of The Butcher Gang nodded promptly and agreed to those wise terms, trying to ignore the desperate, muffled whines that were echoing in the whole studio and probably even outside. “Well said indeed.”.

#the demon and the angel #bendy x alice #Belice #benlice #bendalice #fanfiction #one-shot

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