#bruno: maybe i should’ve stayed in the walls.

[jjkyaoi]

no because there’s something so hilarious about camilo going around and portraying bruno as this horrifying person who preys on peoples fear, only to meet him and see the most tired scrawny neurodivergent old man he’s ever seen and being like hmmm 🤔 i may have made an error in my judgment

i can imagine their first conversation just bruno going like .... “so..... it’s nice to finally meet you properly. sorry i was like . gone for years . but i’m back now !! and i’m ready to be a part of the family again kinda” and camilo, who just probably gave a bunch of children nightmares two days ago by shifting into bruno’s estranged little ass and pretending to hunt them for sport being like “haha yeah good to have you back 😁”

[jay-is-not-alwright-at-writing]

“You put the knife right in my back and killed any history we had. Now it’s war.”

Even with his sweater, Brian’s back is cold with sweat from his body pressing firmly against the wall, struggling to calm his racing heart and suck in enough breath to take a moment and think.

After everything he did, he should’ve expected things to turn out this way; should’ve seen it coming. It’s not like he didn’t deserve it. Honestly, he didn’t blame Tim, how could he?

And yet, he had foolishly held onto the hope that Tim wouldn’t go behind his back and betray him like this. It stung, like the vicious sting of an angry hornet.

“Where are you?” Tim’s voice is heavy with an emotion Brian can’t quite place, slightly muffled and in the nearby distance; likely coming from the other room.

“You’ve hid for long enough, Bri, aren’t you tired of it?”

He is. Brian’s muscles ache from staying crouched in the same position, skillfully hiding out of sight while maneuvering around the house. If it meant Tim wouldn’t find him, he’d never move again.

He never should’ve expected the peace to last. It was only a matter of time. He should’ve known. After all, he was to blame in the first place.

Brian hears Tim’s slow, stalking footsteps creep by and the bathroom door open with a click of the doorknob. Tim is standing just across from Brian’s hiding spot. Brian’s mouth goes dry as he listens for … anything.

After a moment, Brian hears Tim give a soft sigh full of twisted disappointment and walk away, back down the other side of the hall. Something about that one sound rang through Brian’s head like church bells; it was as though Tim was sad he hadn’t yet caught his prey.

With primal fear settling into his bones and tugging at his nervous system, Brian glances around at the area he had taken refuge in.

The room was dark and mostly bare, with him squeezed into a dusty, dank corner between the old washing and drying machines. He needed to stay calm and focus on the task at hand: getting out of there in one piece.

Brian knows it was now more than just the danger of being caught. His life was on the line. Tim would never show him mercy; Brian doesn’t deserve mercy.

If he somehow got out of Tim’s range, maybe he could gun it to the front door and escape. Maybe …

Stricken with an idea, Brian ever so slightly shifts on his feet and grips the phone within his pocket. Careful to keep it out of Tim’s line of sight, he holds it up and watches with bated breath as Tim meticulously prowls around the old house, his weapon of choice silently taunting Brian, laughing at him; he could practically hear it: ‘Tim’s out for your blood, you traitor. What will you do now? What’s your move?’

Brian knows, even now, that he will not go down without a fight. He might not deserve redemption, but he does not deserve a meaningless death.

For a few moments more, Brian watches Tim through the view of his phone’s reflection and mentally maps out possible escape routes.

If Tim kept his back turned, perhaps Brian could slip from his current hiding spot into the nearby bathroom or the hallway just three feet further that leads to the front door. Both had risks, of course, because nothing in Brian’s life had ever been easy-coming.

Moving to the bathroom would mean backing himself into a corner, where Tim was sure to catch him within seconds. No windows, small and enclosed, one way entrance and exit. There was a lock but Tim knows where the key is. The bathroom had no escape. Brian wouldn’t be able to hide there, not forever.

The hallway leading to the front door is closer to Tim, who is currently only around ten feet away; if Brian made a run for it, he’d have maybe six seconds or less to make it into the hallway and to the door. Did Tim lock it? If he did then Brian would likely only have about three seconds more to unlock the door and swing it open. Nine seconds is too long; it’s nothing more than a death sentence.

Tim is fast, strong and powerful. Tim would catch him before he could ever open the door and make a run for it. Brian would need seconds he doesn’t have. He can’t run.

He could continue waiting, but his muscles and joints are already burning and starting to cramp. If Tim found him now he wouldn’t be fast enough to dodge the line of fire. Sooner or later, he would be found.

He can’t hide.

He can’t run.

He can’t wait.

That only leaves one option.

A glance into the reflection of his phone lets Brian see Tim pause in his prowling. He turns with an unreadable expression, weapon raised and ready to fire at any time.

Something about this rings familiar bells in his head, but he can’t recall what that is. All Brian knows is that it screams ‘danger’.

It was now or never.

Slowly unfurling from his crouched position, Brian steals one last glance towards Tim and books it, ignoring how his muscles scream in protest.

His pounding footsteps quickly catch Tim’s attention, who turns to look right at him with wide eyes.

Heart fluttering in his chest, body aching, Brian lets out a small yelp when a harsh thud of impact happens right by his head just milliseconds after he moves across the hall. He tries his best to block out the mental image of his brain matter splattered on the wall.

Tim is going to kill him.

Skittering to a stop and desperately panting for breath, Brian ducks into a side room and listens as Tim stops at the entrance of the hallway.

Tim had blocked off Brian’s path to the rest of the house. Now he was waiting. Tim knew he had Brian pinned.

If Brian took one step outside of the room, it was over. But he had no other options.

“Come on out, it’s over. There’s nowhere to go, Bri.” Tim’s voice is clear and stern. The hunter was tired of chasing its prey. Now it was time for the execution.

Well, this wouldn’t be the first time he faced his personal Grim Reaper in the face.

Sealing his fate, Brian carefully inches open the door, silently cringing at every slow creak the door makes.

Taking a shakey breath, Brian takes a step and runs.

Tim takes the shot with no hesitation, stopping Brian right in his tracks as he stumbles back in shock, slamming hard against the front door and sliding down with a groan of pain.

Brian coughs, spitting the flour out of his mouth as he wipes at his face, unable to stop the small chuckle from escaping him. “That was unfair, Wright! You backed me into a corner!”

Tim gives a snort in response, wiping his flour-covered hands on the back of his shirt and moves forward to help his friend off of the ground. “You backed yourself into a corner at least twice, that’s on you. Hoodie never gets caught.”

Brian glances up at Tim, trying his best attempt at a sour scowl, his resolve cracking as he grins. “Not getting caught in the crossfire is kinda his thing, that’s different and you know it.”

Rolling his eyes with a lightheart huff Tim helps Brian to his feet, recoiling seconds later when Brian leans forward and playfully ruffles Tim’s hair with both hands, effectively coating his hair in the messy flour.

“That’s for making me crouch uncomfortably between the washer and dryer for ten minutes!”

Tim gently pushes Brian away, cringing as he tries shaking out his hair. “That was your idea, I never said anything about you having to hide out in the laundry room”

Brian playfully gawks, lightly shoving Tim. “You came after me with fistfuls of flour! What was I supposed to do? Not run for cover?”

Tim gives a smile and raises his hands in surrender. “You’re the one who suggested we make pancakes at, what, six in the morning. I had my right.”

Brian gives a playful huff and rolls his eyes, slinging a flour-covered arm around his shorter friend. “Yeah, yeah, whatever, let’s get back to the pancakes now, hm?”

“Sounds like a plan.” Tim nods, already making his way towards the kitchen. Brian bursts into laughter at the sight of Tim covered head-to-toe in flour. So much for that tense battle, they were both a kitchen-made mess.

Hurrying to catch up to Tim, Brian lightly elbows Tim with a bright smile. “Can we split the batter into half banana and half chocolate chips?”

Giving a small smile, Tim grabs the mixing bowl and spoon. “Whatever you want, Bri.”

・・・・★・・・・★ ・・・・ ★・・・・

This work belongs to Jay-is-not-alwright-at-writing, if you have read or come across this outside of this Tumblr account that means it was stolen and reposted without my knowledge or consent. Please do not support apps or websites that repost without permission and/or illegally profit off of other people's work. ♡

・・・・★・・・・★ ・・・・ ★・・・・

[aliceinreverselondon]

Cheater (Bruno Bangnyfe x reader)

That damn buzzing sound was driving you crazy. In the past few days, you’d begun to hear Bruno’s phone buzzing more and more frequently, and you could tell it wasn’t work-related. He kept avoiding your eyes whenever you asked him if everything was okay which made it clear he was hiding something. Normally you weren’t the jealous type but with his history, you couldn’t help but assume the worst.

One evening when he left to take a shower and you once again heard that buzzing sound, you quickly picked up his phone to see what was going on. Since he usually unlocked it with face or fingerprint recognition and you didn’t know his password either, you could only rely on the notification on the lock screen. But no luck. Bruno wasn’t an idiot, he changed the settings so the content of the notification would be hidden.

The phone was back on the nightstand by the time he returned with a wolfish smile on his lips. “I missed you in there,” he told you as he lied down next to you. “It’s been such a long day. I couldn’t wait to come home to you.”

“Well, now you’re here.” You fucking liar, you added in yourself. “Oh, I know you said you’d probably be free all weekend and we could spend it together, but I promised to have lunch and watch a movie with the girls tomorrow.”

You tried to sound like you felt really bad about changing your plans, hoping in the end he would walk into your trap. Because this was a trap: you’d only asked your friends to spend the rest of Saturday afternoon with you earlier that evening. Based on your previous experience with him he would use this opportunity to meet up with that woman. All you had to do now was getting evidence to prove he was cheating.

“It’s okay,” he said, successfully snapping you out of your thoughts. “I know you don’t meet as often as you used to. Maybe I’ll use this time to hang out with Rickenbacker then.”

While he slowly repositioned himself to be on top of you and you saw those bright blue eyes again, you began to question your judgment. What if you were just being paranoid and he wasn’t hiding anything? After all, he hadn’t become distant lately and he still kissed and touched you like he always did. You hated this. All it took to turn you into some stupid, naïve schoolgirl was one kiss.

But he knew this perfectly well. If he knew you were suspicious, maybe he used sex to make you forget about your little theory. For now, you decided to play along but the alarm was still ringing in the back of your mind so you wouldn’t forget what you suspected he was doing behind your back.

A few hours later you woke up to the all too familiar buzzing sound, although this time you could also feel it. Bruno didn’t move, he kept sleeping with an arm around your waist, so you tried to move very carefully as you looked around. When your eyes fell on his arm he had wrapped around your body, you suddenly remembered: it was his watch you felt vibrating. He was tracking his sleep, this is why he never took it off at night. And for your luck, he saw his notifications on it but unlike on his phone, he couldn’t hide its content.

Making sure you wouldn’t wake him up, you quickly checked the notifications. It was a message from a woman you hadn’t heard of before, confirming to meet him the next day. You were right then, he was cheating on you.

After this, it was hard to act like everything was okay. Bruno was talking about his plans for the evening during breakfast, but all you could think about was what you should do now. Was there a chance he would get bored of her and stay with you? Or was history repeating itself? Either way, you had to stay calm and smile while you figured that out. You couldn’t even tell your friends about it because we told you so was the last thing you wanted to hear.

Everything changed in the afternoon, though. When he kissed you, you could smell that bitch on him. What an idiot, he should’ve taken a shower. You took a few steps back to build some distance and buried your hands in your hair. Well, you clearly couldn’t ignore it.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” he asked worriedly.

“Does she know you have a girlfriend?” you asked angrily. “Or did you tell her what you had told me back in the day? You know, that you’re keeping a break?” Bruno opened his mouth to say something but you weren’t interested. “Don’t even bother, I don’t care about your excuses. I can smell her perfume on you, Bruno! Did you really think I wouldn’t find out?”

For long seconds he remained silent and you could tell he was trying to determine what answer wouldn’t provoke an even bigger fight. “I fucked up, I know,” he admitted eventually. “But she knows it’s only temporary because I don’t want to leave you.”

“Well, too late, you already lost me. Please, sleep somewhere else tonight because I want to pack my things in peace.”

“Y/N, listen, damn it!” This was new. He sounded desperate. Letting out a sigh, you folded your arms over your chest and leaned against the wall behind you. “You have every right to believe I’m lying but I promise I’m telling the truth. I love you, I want to spend the rest of my life with you, and yes, I know this sounds like bullshit after I cheated on you. She… started flirting with me and I think I just wanted to see if I was over that phase.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at this pathetic excuse. “You would’ve figured that out after one night!”

“I told her it was over but she couldn’t leave me alone. I’m willing to admit that I’m stupid and weak, and I shouldn’t have agreed to meet her again. Please, give me another chance,” he tried.

Bruno still didn’t get it. The moment you’d told him you wouldn’t be home this afternoon he asked this woman to meet him. He didn’t hesitate and he acted like everything was perfectly fine. If what he said was true, that he really wanted to end that affair, he would’ve acted accordingly and you would’ve noticed that he looked troubled. But he didn’t. You were sure he wasn’t planning to end it. Shaking your head, you went to the bedroom and started packing your things, ignoring as he tried to convince you to stay.

Note: Sorry for the typos or mistakes. Inspiration: “Alarm” by Anne-Marie.

[moody-blues-requiem]

Loving Living Dead (afab reader x Zombie Bruno)

4th place in the halloween writing poll was Zombie Bruno! Takes place after the events of VA, except Giorno’s stand fuckery was just a bit stronger this time, and Bruno “””lived””” through everything. 

N/s/f/w under the cut!

The whole “zombie” incident had come with a lot of uncertainties. First of all, how was he even able to survive? Stand magic bullshit, of course, but… how long would it last? Would he ever die, or would he go on as a living dead until the end of time? Would his body decay, would he need to eat and drink water anymore? Would he wake up one morning with a taste for brains and flesh?

One thing Bruno Buccellati was sure of, though, was that death had not decreased his sex drive in the slightest. 

He was so nervous to bring it up with you. You’d already stuck with him through two deaths and subsequent revivals, through body parts occasionally detaching and a couple nights of phantom pains that left him sobbing and dry-heaving, clutching at his own chest for dear life, reminding himself that even without a heartbeat, he’s alive, he’s alive. You comfort was unwavering, but he wasn’t sure if sex would be pushing your limits too far. Bruno could understand not wanting to have sex with him right now, even though his skin wasn’t rotting off (thank GOD) it wasn’t exactly warm and soft and, well… alive. Not what he would consider to be appealing. 

And still, despite the wild anxieties bolting through his mind, his body was craving you, and he unintentionally popped a very nervous boner, pressed right up against your ass. 

You were snuggled in his arms in bed, Bruno being the big spoon, the warmth of an electric blanket keeping you both nice and toasty. You were on the edge of sleep, but… something more pressing was at hand. Something literally pressing at your rear. There was no mistaking what it was. 

“Bruno,” you whispered, rolling over to face the dark-haired man. “Something you want from me, love?” 

“I…” Bruno started, letting out a soft, nervous chuckle. “Go back to sleep, amore. You don’t need to worry about me--”

“No, Bruno,” you said, shifting to sit up a little more, to properly meet the man face to face. “Do you think I don’t still love you like this?”

“No! It’s not that, not that at all,” he said, wrapping an arm around you and leaning in, pressing his forehead to yours. “I know you still love me. You’ve done so much for me, I could go blind and still see your love. It’s just…” he hesitated for a moment, before finding his courage. “Well, I would understand if you didn’t want to, you know… have sex with a corpse.”

You paused for a moment, before chuckling, swelling to a full laugh. “Bruno!” you exclaimed. “I told you not to use the c-word. You’re not a… you’re not dead. Not really. So maybe your heart doesn’t beat. You’re still you! And… and… hey, if you’ve got no heartbeat and no circulation, how, uh. How’d you get an erection?”

Now it was Bruno’s turn to laugh. “Your guess is as good as mine. Maybe I was so horny it shocked my heart into moving a little?”

The two of you dissolved into a fit of giggles and kisses and playful touches that quickly became making out and heavy petting. Bruno’s cold fingers worked magic on your body, the added temperature difference only heightening the sensation of his touches. Your pajama top (an old t-shirt from Bruno, the letters long faded but the image of a lighthouse was still faintly visible) was quickly discarded and Bruno wasted no time in putting his hands and mouth to work on your breasts. The chill of his undead body had you gasping out profanity, your nails digging into the skin on Bruno’s back. He held your nipple delicately between his teeth, rolling his tongue over the sensitive little nub until it stiffened to a peak, before sucking harshly, sure to leave a mark. His knee parted your legs, inserting his own leg between them to give you a little friction for how wildly your hips were bucking. Bruno’s erection stabbed at your thigh, demanding attention. 

You slid your hand into Bruno’s pants, grasping and pumping his member, earning a surprised “oh!” from the man. “Fuck,” he moaned out, leaning into your touch. Bruno was never one to hold himself back in the bedroom, but this was something else. “God, I… I didn’t realize just how much I was craving your touch,” he said with a breathy chuckle. “Please, keep going…”

You took the opportunity to remove Bruno’s pants completely, before crawling over him, straddling his thighs. With one hand you reached up, squeezing at his beautiful pecs, and the other stayed wrapped around his cock, jerking him off. You started slow, but the eager thrusting of Bruno’s hips got you moving faster. “You’re really this pent up, huh?” you asked, smirking. “We should’ve done this sooner.”

“Yes,” Bruno gasped. “Oh, yes. But we can make up for lost time now.”

You slid your own pants and underwear off, moving up a bit to better align with Bruno’s dick. You took his hand in yours, bringing it to your sex, letting him feel just how excited you were for him. He slid one finger into you easily, then two, and after a few pumps of his hand, a third. “Oh, madonna… you’re so wet for me. I need to be inside you, now.”

You guided Bruno’s hand to his mouth to lick his fingers clean-- you knew that your taste drove him crazy. As he was savoring your juices you shifted down, sliding his cock inside of you in one fluid motion. Bruno nearly choked, letting out a loud, satisfied groan, eyes rolling back in his head and back arching. You felt his cock throbbing, pumping his load deep into you. It was… different. His cum felt cool on your inner walls, and thicker than usual, but none of it was unenjoyable. You groaned, feeling him fill you up, knowing that his thick seed was less likely to seep out of your hole, instead staying right where he planted it, deep inside you. 

“Fuck,” he groaned, “god, you were right about me being pent up, it seems. I… didn’t expect to be coming quite so quickly.” 

You smiled, leaning down to kiss him. “It’s alright, Bruno. I loved it, I love when you cum for me.” You started to get up, ready to grab a tissue and a glass of water for you to clean up, but Bruno’s hands had a death grip on your hips. You weren’t going anywhere. 

“Bruno?” you asked, a little smirk on your lips. “Still enjoying the warmth, huh?”

Bruno looked up at you. From under his dark bangs you saw his blue eyes glinting, more lively than you’d seen them in weeks. A flame in him had been reignited. “I might have cum, amore...” Bruno purred out, lifting you off his lap with surprising strength before slamming you back down, spearing you with his lengthy cock. 

“...But I’m far from finished.”

[blueluneacy]

Matching Scars

This is a commission I did for one of my discord members! Commissions are still open, by the by!

It’s a Bruno Bucciarati/reader fluff! 2k words

Warnings: implied violence, implied character death (take your pick on who!)

It was surprising to you how quickly the scar had become so light. If you looked over the wound a few hours ago, you might be crying, losing your mind about how ugly it was. You supposed that was just the power of Golden Experience. You sighed as you thought about the moment for Bruno to burst through that door, getting told what happened. According to Don Giovanna, when he found out, he almost lost his mind. He certainly looked like he lost it when he got into that warehouse.

You felt the rope burn on your wrists from getting tied down to the chair, the fear you felt you were interrogated for information you didn’t have. Bruno made sure you were never a part of his work life in order to protect you from things like this, but well… You supposed that just being Bruno’s girlfriend was what got you into trouble. 

You remember how easily Giorno and Bruno were able to defeat the men who had taken you. Apparently they had started a drug ring after the end of Passione’s drug trade, and now were looking to take over the other illicit industries where Passione currently reigned king. But the worst part of this all, was Bruno’s tears, Giorno having to wrench you out of his arms in order to heal you, then to watch him get told that you needed to rest without him for a little bit, as to help with the healing process.

Wow. It really has been a long day, hasn’t it? You laid in the nice silken sheets of one of Don Giovanna’s villas. You insisted that you didn't need a doctor, but Giorno politely told you that you could go back to your home tomorrow, he and Bruno just wanted to make sure there were no dangers around your apartment. Giorno was so sweet, it was hard for you to believe that he was a mafia boss sometimes. But, seeing how he took care of those enemy stand users, the hardened look in his and your Bruno’s eyes when they defeated them, maybe it wasn’t so hard to imagine after all.

You laid in bed, sighing a bit. You weren’t sure what to do with yourself, really. It was so hard to fall asleep while looking up at an unfamiliar ceiling, in sheets that smelled like some fancy detergent you couldn’t name and not like your own. It was strange. You had never noticed the smell of your house until you weren’t there. It was almost lonely, being here like this. Both Giorno and Bruno were working on cleaning up the mess you couldn’t help but feel just a little responsible for. You knew it wasn’t your fault, really, but still. Maybe if you had been a little more careful, you wouldn’t have inconvenienced everyone.

The door creaked open and quickly shut behind him, leaving Bruno to quickly stride over to your bed and sit down next to you. You smiled when you saw your boyfriend, holding out your hand. Bruno quickly took it as he always did, pressing his lips to it. You always giggled a bit at how formal Bruno could be with you at times, but his reverence to you was cute in a way.

“(Y/n). I’m sorry I couldn’t come sooner, I was dealing with all the aftermath, and you were resting, and I just wanted to…” He trailed off, trying to think of what to say. You just smiled. 

“Don’t worry, Bruno. I’ve just sort of been here sitting around anyway. It doesn’t even hurt.” You pulled up your shirt to show off the faint scar on your stomach. You didn’t realize how much of a bad idea that was until you saw how Bruno winced when he saw it.

“You poor thing. I should’ve been there sooner. No, I should’ve watched over you more to make sure none of this ever happened in the first place. This is my fault.” He sighed, turning away from you. He was biting into his lip to the point of blood, leaving you to gasp. Bruno wasn’t a stoic man, per say, but he was much better at keeping his more negative feelings in check than one would anticipate. Professional, you might call it. But, after being in a relationship with Bruno for so long, you could tell that he felt nothing but guilt for what happened. You sat up slowly, moving to wrap your arms around your lover and sigh.

“Bruno. I didn’t realize your stand could control the actions of other people.” You stated, pouting a bit. Bruno perked up slightly, turning to you.

“It can’t. You already know what my stand does, (y/n). What are you going on about?” He asked, looking a little concerned. God, did you hit your head too? Maybe Don Giovanna should give you another check up. But still, you continued.

“Well, I assumed that since this was your fault, you could control other people. But you can’t. You’re not the one who kidnapped or hurt me. So you shouldn’t blame yourself for that. Besides, if it weren’t for you, who knows what might’ve happened.” You told him, refusing to look away from Bruno. You kept your eyes right on him, even though you could tell he was trying to find some way to contradict what you were telling him. He was like that, taking all the responsibility even when it wasn’t his to bear. 

“But… Maybe, if I had investigated and taken them out sooner, or if I protected you in the first place-” He started, but you just shushed him.

“None of that. This isn’t your fault. And besides, you and Giorno certainly took care of the real culprits, didn’t you? Come on,” You pulled Bruno down with you as you laid back down, smiling as he pulled his legs onto the bed. 

“You can protect me now, can’t you? Stay with me for the evening, if you can. I want you with me.” You told Bruno. You held back a giggle as pink dusted his face, the glow of love in his eyes. He wrapped his arms around you and nodded.

“I would be honored.” He chuckled a bit, pressing a kiss against your cheek. You giggled a bit, moving to snuggle up and get comfortable with Bruno as he kicked off his shoes. He let go of you for a moment to pull off his jacket and shirt, revealing the fine tattoos underneath. You had seen them many times before, but you still marveled at how intricate they were, how they mirrored something lace rather than the ink in his skin. You ran your fingers over the tattooing, sighing a bit and thinking to yourself. Your fingers moved to a bit of scar tissue you noticed. It was new, or at least, something you hadn’t seen the last time the two of you were together like this. Bruno always seemed to come back with new scars or injuries, but he rarely seemed to mind them. Or maybe it did, he was just good at keeping secrets from you. You sighed as you felt his taut skin, leaning your head against his chest.

“I guess we match now, don’t we?” You chuckled a bit as Bruno wrapped an arm around you, pulling you close. You let yourself rest your head on his chest, listening to the way he breathed, the way his heart pumped. According to Don Giovanna, there was once a time when Bruno Bucciarati wasn’t exactly alive, but wasn’t exactly dead either. Where his body was dead, but he still carried on. You could never understand how your boyfriend was so powerful, but you chose to accept it. You had never asked Bruno about it, per Giorno’s request. Apparently, Bruno hated to think about the past. You were his present, after all. And that would be enough. 

“Yeah. But I hope we are to never match completely.” Bruno replied with a sigh. You took the hand that wasn’t to your back and you held it, entwining your fingers with his and sighing. You loved Bruno, you truly did, but he was sometimes like a stone wall. Unreadable and unknowable. You thought about the most prominent scar on Bruno’s body, the one on his stomach. There was a matching one on his back, causing you to fear the worst when you saw it. God, what had Bruno gone through to get to you? You were shocked at how damaged he was, not just his body but his soul as well. The way he held you sometimes felt like he was gripping you as if you were sand. Should he mess up, you might just slip through his fingers and never be seen again. He swore to never let you get involved in mafia business, for your own protection. You agreed when you found out about his true job. You really never meant for any of this to happen.

“Bruno. I’ve been thinking. Maybe you’re right. My house might not be safe.” You sighed, looking away. He gasped, biting his lip.

“Maybe. But then… What should we do? Do you want to start looking for new apartments? You can stay here as long as you need, I’ll talk to Giorno for you. All I want for you is to be safe.” Bruno sat up slightly, but you hushed him a bit, trying to get him to relax. You smiled as you laid your head against him.

“Well, maybe… We could start living together. We’ve been a couple for so long, and I’m sure you’d be better off protecting me if you were right there with me.” You offered, leaving Bruno to gasp. You looked up into those blue eyes you loved so much, smiling just a little. 

“Cara, are you sure? There might be enhanced risk that comes with it, with you being seen as truly mine, my comings and goings might get monitored. I don’t want you to get hurt because of me.” He told you. You reached up and touched Bruno’s cheek, feeling how he almost immediately leaned into your touch.

“Bruno… If it means I can spend every night like this laying with you, then I really don’t care about the risk. I want to be with you, have a life with you. I understand that it’s risky, and if you really don’t want to, I’ll just look to move into another apartment. But I want to be with you, always. Even if it means I might get roughed up once and awhile.” You told Bruno, feeling how his cheeks heated up in the darkness. He felt so warm compared to the cold night air.

“Bella… You might get hurt. Something might happen to you. Are you sure you want to take that risk?” He asked, but you could feel him shaking. Bruno wanted this so bad, but he was so afraid for you. So afraid you might accidentally get hurt because he wasn’t able to protect you, just like everyone else.

“I don’t have to worry. Because even if something happens, I know you’ll always come to save me, Bruno. I love you so much.” And those were the words that broke Bruno, a few tears starting to slip down his face. He pulled you close, burying his head into the crook of your neck as he just pet your hair. You just sighed, cooing and rubbing his back. Above all, you knew one thing about your Bruno, and that was that he was tired. But if you could ease his pain in any way, you would do it in a heartbeat. And you knew that Bruno would do the same for you.

“I love you so much, (y/n). More than anything.” His voice was a bit hoarse as he pulled away from your neck, his eyes puffy. But you just wiped away that stray tear before leaning in. Before you pressed your lips against his, you were able to get just a few more words in.

“I love you too, Bruno.”

[persephonescat]

Birds and Other Supernatural Phenomenons

Hiiii! This is… long. Probably the longest chapter I’m going to have, but it’s all only one scene and I just couldn’t cut it in half. Thank you for your comments! They make my whole week! Some of you pointed out a few mistakes in the last chapter, I hope it’s all good now! ^^ And please tell me if there are any weird sentences or typos or anything. Multiple people told me that the last chapter’s storm came very suddenly, so I re-read the sixth chapter and as it turns out, the sentence about the weather was lost in the editing. It all looked very dark and moody in my head, so I didn’t notice there was no description of it. Thank you for telling me, I’m definitely going to correct that.

(I think we should call this fic BaOSP in the future when we’re just talking about it in the comments or on Discord or just in general, bc this title is really long… The title and the tags will stay the same of course, it’s just that from now on, BaOSP is the official (???) shortened version of it.)

Damian meets Marinette, I REPEAT, DAMIAN MEETS MARINETTE.

Ch. 1    Previous    Masterpost    AO3 

________________

Ch. 8: Lord Annoyance

It was Monday night and Damian Wayne already hated the week.

Tim finally passed out on Saturday and did nothing but sleep all weekend, so on one hand, now he was capable of speaking in full sentences. On the other hand, all of his sentences were about the process of etching and nobody knew why, so it wasn’t any less problematic.

Dick came home with several holes in his shoe and refused to speak about it.

Jason didn’t eat anything but pork for a week straight and this morning he swore to go vegetarian.

Bruce was in the process of finding new hobbies - Tim said it was midlife crisis, Jason said the old man was finally going crazy and Cass was out of town, so she just yelled at them via video chat. Barbara and Steph laughing their asses off every time the topic came up didn’t help either, but after seeing the anvil in the living room while going to get breakfast, Damian was starting to agree with Jason.

On top of it all, some idiot under the name of Dark Nomad killed a chicken, painted obscene pictures on the walls of one of Bruce’s apartments with its blood, then for some reason, they stole some garden interior and part of the fence. Just fantastic.

And guess who had to track him down and arrest him? Robin. Because his family was a bunch of freaking sadists.

On top of it all, when he finally arrived on the rooftop where the petty villain was spotted two days in a row, the idiot wasn’t alone.

Robin landed quietly, hid behind a metal staircase leading the upper parts of the building and stopped to listen to the conversation going down between the two shadowy forms. He was already planning revenge in the back of his mind - it would’ve been ridiculously easy to poison at least two out of his three brothers. Not too badly but enough for them to have an unpleasant couple of days.

“Did you manage to sleep during the day, or should I be worried about you suddenly falling down from here because of exhaustion?” one of the forms asked flatly, a young girl sitting on the edge of the roof. She looked tiny compared to the Nomad sitting beside her, but she didn’t seem to be afraid at all. Her body language was taunting and open, her dark hair shimmered in the light coming from the streets below as she turned her head towards the boy. She had a slight French accent.

“Nah, I had double English in the afternoon, so I’m good,” the Nomad said, playing with a stray thread on his hoodie. “You?”

“I slept on the bus…” the girl started, trailing off. She tilted her head, concentrating on something. “Could you give me a minute?” she asked, standing up. For a moment, Damian felt relieved. She was already leaving.

Then she turned towards him.

She could’ve just heard something. She could’ve just checked out the area. It could’ve been a coincidence, but she was staring right at him, even though he was sure he wasn’t visible in the dark.

She walked towards his hiding place with no hesitation or fear. He was standing there motionlessly as she got closer. He studied her form, looking for weapons and weak points. She was wearing a warm cardigan with jeans and dark boots. He eyed her scarf and gloves suspiciously. It wasn’t that cold, but he didn’t see anything hidden in them.

Her red lipstick matched her scarf, her hair was tied into a loose braid coming forward at the side of her neck, dancing gracefully when a light breeze caught it. Her body language was still way too open and she foolishly grabbed the railing of the staircase before peeking behind it, leaving her torso even more vulnerable.

If he was ever planning on confronting her, he would’ve changed his mind after that. She was clearly harmless when it came to physical combat.

What the hell was she doing here, then?

“Can I help you?” she asked, looking at where his mask covered his eyes. Her voice was toneless and her accent was gone. Robin wondered if he was just imagining it earlier. Maybe he was too deep in his thoughts to pay attention.

It happened a lot nowadays. Him, getting lost in his thoughts and not paying attention. At first, it annoyed him - and scared the living daylight out of him, not as if he was about to tell that to anyone. Now he knew it was part of being human. It meant he was getting healthier, as Alfred put it. Making mistakes was part of life and he wanted to have a life, right?

Yes, he did.

Sometimes he looked at Bruce and his sorry brothers and realized that he already had a one. It made him feel weird. Happy, probably, but it was a new kind of happy. It made him want to smile at the most random times and help Alfred with chores. It made him have this… desire to go after Bruce when he disappeared to his garden to calm down, to bring home some donuts for Dick every time he passed that shop he liked, to take Jason to Disneyland on his birthday, to make Cass smile more often, to pull up the security footages from the Cave on his computer, so he could check on Tim without him knowing.

It was terrifying and he wouldn’t have changed it for anything in the world.

“Robin?” the girl asked impatiently. Damn, he zoned out. He cleared his throat, trying to find the right thing to say.

“Errm… do you realize you are sitting with a criminal?” Good job, Damian, your brothers would be proud. Why not ask her her favorite color too, maybe that will help. He was prepared to hear Jason’s amused words through the comms, but surprisingly, his brother stayed quiet.

“Are you concerned about my safety?” The girl narrowed her eyes.

He straightened his back and cleared his mind.

“Actually, I’m here to arrest the Dark Nomad,” he told her, trying to sound professional. Not as if it mattered anymore.

“Why?”

“Damaging private property, theft, and vandalism.”

“Could you elaborate? Picking flowers in a park could be considered all three of those.” Her voice was mocking now.

Damian stared at her. She was at least a head shorter than him, with no weapons. He was Robin. She was either incredibly dangerous or very stupid, and he had a hard time believing in the first scenario.

“He killed an animal, draw obscene pictures on the street with its blood, did damage that’s repairing will take hundreds of dollars, stole garden interior… should I continue?”

“When did he do all that?” the girl asked. She didn’t seem surprised at all.

“Why would I tell you?” frowned Robin. “I’m here to arrest him, that’s the only important thing.” Harmless or not, she was getting annoying.

“Well, you can’t legally make arrests given that you’re not a police officer, which means that you have absolutely no reason to be here. You might as well go home,” she explained simply. Her voice was toneless again, she spoke as if she was just stating facts, - which she did, after all.

Damian’s blood was starting to boil. Did the psychopaths roaming this city have a right to murder people? No. Did they have any right to hurt civilians? No. Was any of the things they did legal? No.

Who was this kid to come and tell him about rights, when his family seemed to be the only ones protecting them?

The girl was looking at him as if she was staring into his soul, then suddenly, she smirked.

“Not as if that would stop you,” she said, and Robin looked at her quizzically. “But I have a feeling that you’re after the wrong guy, so if you told me when he did all that, it would clear a few things.”

He was lost. What did this girl want? She was too weird to be stupid. She let the railing go now and was standing with her arms at her sides, her head slightly tilted.

“Today, between two and three AM,” he told her finally, curious about her reaction.

She stared right into his eyes, even though his mask was hiding them and said, “He was with me.”

Robin didn’t see anything about her body language betraying her, but she must’ve noticed he didn’t believe her because she continued.

“We were talking about Tamás Vekerdy and Bruno Bettelheim. They’re psychologists who often write about children. He arrived around midnight, and when he left it was already past five in the morning, so there is no way he could’ve done anything unless he has an evil twin.”

He scoffed angrily. When he spoke again, he was hissing the words from behind his clenched teeth.

“These things don’t take long. He might’ve just slipped away for a few minutes and came back, unless of course if you were in the same position for five hours.” He might’ve also growled a little. He was standing only inches from her now, looming over her.

“That’s not too hard to check, your Highness.” She cocked her head and held his gaze fearlessly. “Where did all this happen?”

He was about to bite back but he stopped abruptly.

Okay, so he might’ve been a little wrong. If the girl was telling the truth, the guy should’ve disappeared for at least one and a half hours to get to the scene from here. Not as if that meant anything, she could’ve easily lied. He just didn’t notice it.

A voice saved him from having to answer.

“Marinette? Is everything okay?” The Dark Nomad was walking towards them. When he noticed Robin, a terrified expression took over his confused one. He was about to go and stand between the girl and the vigilante when she lifted her arm to stop him, not moving her gaze away from Robin. The Nomad looked like a caged animal but didn’t try to fight her.

“Lord Annoyance here states that last night, you cloned yourself between The Book of Diaries and NurtureShock, and went to draw booties and steal a bunch of garden gnomes.”

The Nomad opened his mouth to say something but Robin beat him to it.

“Okay, so first of all, it wasn’t just "booties” and they were drawn with blood, which makes it considerably worse.“ Jason, who was listening to everything he said trough the comms the whole time, chose that moment to burst out laughing. He did his best to ignore him.

"Second of all, a lot of things were stolen, not just…” yep, that sentence was a bad idea, “Garden gnomes.”

“Why do you think he did it in the first place?” the girl, - Marinette cut back.

“It was private property. There was a camera.”

“Whose?”

He took a second to consider the possible fallback of the answer. The existence of Bruce Wayne wasn’t a secret. Neither was the fact that he owned multiple buildings around the city. Maybe it was going to scare the villain enough that he confesses.

“Bruce Wayne’s,” he said finally. The girl’s undisturbed expression made him feel uneasy. “Have you heard of him?”

“Oh, you mean that’s who the big ass tower in the middle of the city is named after? I thought it was the ship name of watery rain or way of pain or something.” Her words were dripping from sarcasm.

‘Who are you talking to? What did they say?’ asked Jason like an excited child but Damian once again ignored him.

“Well, I’m sorry, but his alibi is pretty shaky, you know. Villains can be very convincing here, in case you didn’t notice.” He didn’t think this guy could convince anyone, but it was possible.

“Yeah, his ski mask really makes me shake in fear,” Marinette said flatly.

The villain finally got a chance to say something but his moment didn’t last long.

“It’s not a-”

“Yes, it is. Shut up.” Marinette pinched the bridge of her nose. “He is wearing a hoodie and a mask ever since… birth, probably. How did anyone recognize him?”

“He left his signature,” Robin told her. He wasn’t even angry anymore, he was just very annoyed.

Marinette froze. She almost seemed to forget about Robin as she finally broke eye contact and turned around.

“You… have a signature?” she asked the Dark Nomad, who was still standing behind her, ready to jump at any moment.

He opened and closed his mouth a few times. It reminded Robin of a distressed duck.

“Kinda,” he said quietly.

“Why would you do that?” asked Marinette, gesticulating wildly.

“It’s part of the aesthetic, okay?” he explained with a hurt expression.

“Hey, I’m accusing you of a crime here!” reminded them Robin. This was taking way longer than he wanted it to.

Marinette once again turned to him, let out a deep breath and arranged her face into a more professional expression.

Finally.

“Right,” she started seriously. She gave him a second to compose himself, then continued. “Boobs.”

The Dark Nomad snorted, but Marinette just gave him an unimpressed look and let out an exasperated sigh.

“Okay, so tell Mr. Wayne, that he should be looking for another idiot because I was looking after this one at the time.”

Before he could answer, he heard Jason’s voice in his ear.

'There is a robbery going down at Chucko’s. I’m going in.’

Damian cursed quietly.

“Don’t. Wait for me. I’ll be there in two,” he told him, placing his fingers on the comm so the two people standing in front of him knew he wasn’t speaking to them.

“I have to go,” he told them quickly, then took off before they could do as much as blink.

***

Marinette ran after the vigilante but stopped at the edge of the roof. She saw a dark form jumping over rooftops. After a few seconds, it disappeared and relief rushed over her body.

She was way too tired to think about how she just got into an argument with one of Gotham’s heroes.

She closed her eyes and turned to go back to her room. She needed to sleep. A lot.

“You’re kinda terrifying when you’re sleep-deprived, did you know that?” said Jeremy, coming out from behind the metal staircase.

“I always am,” answered Marinette, still not opening her eyes.

“Do you mean terrifying or sleep-deprived?” asked Jeremy confusedly.

Marinette gave him a small wave, then climbed back to the hotel without a word.

________________

*Quiet chanting* comments, comments, comments

*Chanting intensifies* comMEnts, COMments, coMMENTS

*Thunder*

*The flattering of wings and the sounds of scared birds*

*Chanting* COMMENTS, COMMENTS, COMMENTS, COMMENTS

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[groomlakeprojects]

Crash(test) The Ballad of Faded Wolf

(Summary)

Barry Mick is a struggling tour manager for a young US rock band in his 30's working in the rock world and mainstream pop; but also works several part time real jobs. The band he is currently managing is a young band “Faded Wolf”; full of notorious stories and behaviors including sex,drugs, and rock and roll. Will they crash and burn? Or live and learn? Probably neither.

Crash(test) The Ballad of Faded Wolf

Story written by Joe Bruno

Edited by

Max Barksdale

There’s something peaceful about waking up in a moving vehicle. The scenery moving like an old movie reel as we make our way to the next destination is the best part, I guess. From what my folks told me when I was young, you actually had to dedicate a person, with a license, to controlling the vehicle; which sounds like a terrible idea looking around my immediate company.

“Tommy Rocks”, as he’s known, is in the next bunk over; putting his genitals on one of our roadies face while he’s asleep. Classic. The band I’m currently out on the road with, (for way less money than I should’ve negotiated; had I known the shit storm I had agreed to) Faded Wolf, are one of the new growing bands in the heavy metal scene. And they are all about attention.

These guys just cost the label $600,000 in damages; leading cops on a two hour chase after stealing a old school collection car from a classic car show, then proceeding to manually drive it onto the highway.

Fucking psychos I tell you. Especially in 2044.

A human messing with with our great, automated highways? It’s crazy they’d let anyone touch a real steering wheel. Thankfully the van doesn’t have one or I’d never sleep with this band around. Not that I do much.. From what I heard growing up, people died like all the time crashing these things it was something crazy like the plague, it was in the millions of people dead all of the time, senselessly. And you’ve got to be an idiot to get out on the roads with the old cars and attempt to drive with the cars we have today. Nobody stops and goes and burns gas anymore. The road system today is cars going everywhere all automatically timed to drive without hardly stopping. Except out here, there’s some drivers still not enough automatic services out this way yet.

Suddenly, there’s a loud pop and the van comes to a stop on the side of the road. We are somewhere on I-70 near Anywhere, Kansas. The van operator broadcasts on to the intercom, “Hey fellas, we are really sorry to inform you but your ‘Bandvan’ rental has had an internal problem with it’s charge system and needs repairs. With your insurance purchase, we will be covering stay at a hotel for you guys until we can get the next van in your area. The nearest one is a day away. Really sorry about the inconvenience. We can give you two free days on your next trip. Again, so sorry. Local tow resources are on their way and should arrive in 25 minutes.”

Damn. We had one more date for tomorrow in Colorado, then I was to catch the Interstate speed train to California; where my next job starts. A pop artist, “Yuki”, is playing the VENUE on Mars’ grand opening. This is like the big stadium time too; bigger than the theaters and bars that host Faded Wolf.

I was asked to smuggle some personal belongings they had left when they took off last week. Oh, and it’s going to take two months to get there. The band managers “great joy of the music world”, is basically being the babysitter to the most irresponsible group of people in the world.

Not now.

I have to figure out what we are going to do. The tow truck is pulling up now I guess I’ll go settle up with the service and oh hey it’s the gang is already around the front. Shit. Tommy, Jim, John, and Freddy are chugging beers and flashing their private parts to oncoming traffic. I used to hear stories about bands like Motley Crüe and Guns N Roses, in my grandparents younger days, who did this kind of stuff.

It was wild.

I think that’s what they want.

Shock value.

It sounded fun at first; but after two months of living it, breathing it, and smelling it with this group, it has lost it’s appeal. I can’t wait to go Mars and get away for a bit.

But what are you gonna do?

These guys want it all.

And unfortunately, they’ll do anything for the attention.

We arrive at a local hotel. It was one of these small mom and pop ones with a kind of old “Bates Motel” vibe; except this was Conways motel. It’s almost like a slasher film; but instead of killing you in the shower, you would step back in time to what the elders would call, “the eighties baby!” The room was filled with neon colors on the walls and 80’s movie and music posters on every wall.

A short older man, maybe in his 60’s, in black pants and a faded blue vintage nascar shirt approaches us. He introduces himself as Earl Conway and asks if we are the rock band staying the night. Tommy and the gang, the kind of wild living guys they are, of course are already shotgunning beers behind me with the roadies and some local fans who are also staying at the hotel.

They have also recognized the band.

I shrug and go into “manager mode”.

We get away to settle up the insurance at the front desk.

“Well, I know it’s y’all’s misfortune, but it is just our treat to have y’all stay with us at ‘Conway’s’ tonight. We never have too many city folk stay here; especially real rockstars. Let us know if you need anything; food, beer, some coke, ‘Ya know’,” Earl brags with a grin.

Well, at least I know these guys are mostly safe to party.

“Thanks Mr. Conley. I really hope we don’t need too much. Our next van will be in town around 12 tomorrow. And then, we are back on the road to the rockies. Though, I can’t speak for the band. It looks like they are already making friends.”

I gaze out the door.

The crowd partying with the band has tripled since exchanging info at the front desk. It appears Tommy and Freddy are now signing several women’s breast and taking some suggestive photos. They probably assumed I quit paying attention, went to my room take my sleep aid, and pass out.

What the hell could go wrong? This is what they do.

That’s not managing though.

I’m thinking I got to go break this up.

“Mr. Conley, I’ll make sure we keep the crowd and noise down,” I assured him.

“Nonsense Barry! You know what; on the weekends we have a 25 Acre track, just behind the motel, where we race good old human driving cars. I saw the band’s mishap with that car out in California on the news. Compared to that footage, I’ll gladly let them rip it up tonight!” Earl responded.

Well there goes my peaceful night.

It’s not even night, and two of the old classic cars that drove by earlier have rolled up to the growing party in the parking lot. Freddy, Tommy, and the gang, are now doing what are called “donuts” in the parking lot. I’ve seen videos online where the human controlled vehicles speed and then brake during a turn, to slide across parking lots at shopping centers and apartment buildings. I suppose it’s better they can do that here; instead of the theft and driving on automated highways charges.

I head to the room to try to get some peace and quiet. Maybe I can try to go over my lists for the Mars trip; which I’m surprised about it being a whole 4 month thing and I’m not that nervous yet. I guess it’s hard to think to that far in the future when you live in “Faded Wolf’s” now.

As I’m approaching the room, I can hear sounds of giggling. Nope thats moaning.

Shit.

Someone is having sex in my room.

Again.

I can’t really count at this point how many times this has happened. But I’m not surprised really. It’s Faded Wolf. What did I expect. At least I have my bag. I can work on some things in this old chair at the end of the hall.

Luckily, I brought my headphones to tune this out.

And they are dead.

Goddamn Bluetooth!

I really miss the older devices my grandparents showed me when I was younger, the headphones may have had to be plugged in; but you weren’t left hanging.

Well, i passed out in the hallway on the floor for couple hours and awake to Earl right in my face and shaking me “buddy I got other customers rolling in soon can’t have you here like this.” I agree. I startle but get up in a haze.. I haven’t really felt this low since i turned 30. The world keeps turning though, I get up and grab my bag and computer I used as a pillow. The room was cleared out and I can finally catch a shower.

There’s clearly cocaine residue on the dresser and all of the room beers are gone. As much as I’m disappointed they didn’t leave any to share, I’m guessing Earl may have to order more for tonight.

I finish my shower, get dressed, and head out to the tracks. It’s a sunny summer day, with green trees and a field view; not that Kansas is known for its landscapes. It was a nice break from the crowded cities we usually stay in.

The guys are all hammered and driving these cars, I’d say, 90 miles an hour back and forth through a loop called a “race track.”

I’ve seen these before on the web. This used to be a popular sport, and still has a strong presence in the south to this day.

More of the local community has shown up looking for a chance to party with this band of fools.

I finally take a seat in the stands, with my own beer, and a little cigarette of ‘grass’, as they used to call it. One of the cars with Tommy driving, and yelling something obnoxious out the window, suddenly turns too quick. It goes up sideways, and flips several times in a barrel roll before stopping on it’s hood.

I drop everything and run over to help.

Tommy quickly climbs his way out, soaked in blood and yelling out in pain; which seems to be coming from the arm he’s holding. I look over inside. One of the fan girls from earlier is inside; luckily with a seatbelt on, which is holding her up. Kind of dangling, but still not awake. She looks a little cut up and I can’t tell if she’s breathing.

This right here is why they did away with letting humans drive. This is what my parents used to ramble on about when I

was young and driving had just been banned. I can’t believe they did this for over 100 years. This is a horror movie in real life. The shock and anxiety. You know, cannabis can make you very anxious without any bad shit happening; but this anxiety was something completely new.

One of my clients may have just killed someone.

As the local ambulance and fire response vehicles roll up, so do several police cars.

This is it.

We are fucked.

I am fucked.

The mars trip, is super fucked.

There is no way we are getting out of this mess by the time our next van rolls in tomorrow.

The rest of the band and I stayed back and talked to the cops about what we saw. I look over to the medical team, and see the fangirl miraculously retain consciousness; with no visible broken bones. Just a few scrapes and bruises on her faces. When her eyes finally opened and she got up and walked off with her friends quickly to the ambulance and seemed to try to keep looking over seeing Tommy at the ambulance, my anxiousness subdued a bit.

But now, we had a new set of problems. The law.

Tommy was immediately arrested and was being charged with an older charge called a “DUI”, reckless driving, and driving without a license. Apparently, this whole track operation is mostly for skilled drivers who still get a thing called a “drivers license.”

After they take him away, local news crews start rolling in to film the documentary of the end of our careers.

I had to call the label to let them know what had happened.

Well look at that. Faded Wolf news travels fast. Tim, the A&R rep, is calling me.

“Hey Tim, buddy! How are you?” I ask, trying to cool tension. “What the fuck did you let happen Barry? You’re the manager! Do you know how much this is going to cost us?” He yelled.

“Look man; you know these guys! Okay? They don’t listen to anybody! I just clean up the mess, like always! But I’m gonna go down there and get Tommy out, okay? These people are super fans; so we might get lucky,” I explained.

“Try what you will Barry; but if you can’t fix this, you’re done.” He hung up.

Earl comes up, still shaken from the event. I immediately start apologizing.

“Hey man. I’m so sorry these guys are idiots, And that poor girl”

He interrupts, “It’s ok Barry, it’s my fault. I encouraged it, and we’ve had accidents from time to time. I could’ve done more to set some ground rules. You guys being here has just been the most fun we’ve had in a while. Look. I got a lawyer buddy who helps me with my books. I’m gonna call him for us. Would you like a ride to check on Tommy?” He asks.

“Of course man! That would be amazing. I actually don’t know how to drive; really none of us from out west do.”

The rest of the crew stayed back.

The buzzkill shook everyone into retreating back to the rooms.

The parties over.

The drive was quiet.

The local radio report is already talking about the accident. I had to change the channel and the next station is, of course, a rock station ironically playing the “Faded Wolf” song “Crash”. I change it again, and finally tune into some obscure classical channel.

It was finally peaceful.

We get to the police station and go check in.

You know in jail movies, this part always sucks. Going to meet your friend or family member; locked up in the jump suit.

It is an all around shitty experience.

It also has be somewhere around 1 AM; about 12 hours away from our van departure schedule. At this point, I feel we are not gonna make it. And I’m not gonna make that Mars trip. We get to the front desk and ask for Tommy.

The desk lady grins and says, “We are hanging that mugshot up in the break lounge; as soon as we get it autographed. We’re holding him a bit longer. You know, y’all are so lucky that girl and her family likes him. He could’ve been here a while.”

I reply confused, “So he’s getting out?.”

“Well, yeah. Some lawyer came in representing that girl. Says she’s his daughter and he settled up with the judge. He will be free to go in just a bit”.

I look to Earl, “Dude, your lawyer is the girls dad?”

He looks shocked, “Shit I had no clue. I hope he doesn’t shut me down.”

The lawyer pops around the corner. “No real harm, no foul; I suppose. We live a little wild out here with these cars, and have accidents from time to time. Regardless, my kid, for some godforsaken reason, has been obsessed with this band for years now, since her high school days, and says it would be the most embarrassing thing to put you away for this. She just wants this to go away. And she really likes this “Tommy” guy, so we’ve made a hefty financial settlement that will take care of her, myself, and get some money flowing down at city hall again. Anyways, we will be in touch with the label for payment soon. And, please. Never. Ever. Let Tommy, or the rest of the band, drive. Or maybe never come here again. I’m serious. Goodnight, gents.” He leaves the station.

Well only in this rock and roll world can such scenario play out. Apparently everyone in this jail is a Faded Wolf fan even the judge. Tommy finally comes out of the back putting his shirt back on and a little bandaged up it seems. He signs a few copies of his mugshot for the station employees. Tommy then comes running at us jumping “ dudes I can’t believe it they love us here, apparently that girls dad is a lawyer, and begged him not to let me stay locked up and pay a fine instead” I reply “ so what’s the damage how much is this going to cost us?” Tommy smirks “ well let’s just say the label is not going to be happy about it and I’m sorry Barry if they blame this on you” I reply “ blame what?” Tommy deeply inhales and answers “eh it’s gonna cost about 20 million or so”. Well in my mind I was thinking a lot worse but that is still probably enough that it’s coming out of the next albums check and probably my check too. He continues “ it’s all good Barry we are getting that next advance and the last album just hit platinum”. This guy has no clue how completely fucked we could’ve been. But how could he? We let this happen and now by paying it off we encourage it.

We all get back to the hotel it’s probably close to 4 AM everyone’s passed out. Earl comes by as I’m packing things to be ready to go in the morning. “ well I’m glad it all worked out for you guys and I’m sorry about letting this happen” I interrupted “ look Earl these guys like to do crazy things and don’t think much, don’t blame yourself

We are all lucky it wasn’t worse.

And crazy lucky that the girl’s dad was lawyer; in our favor.

“You’ve been a great help to us! I’ll make sure to send you a postcard from the new venue on mars!”

He sort of gets excited, “Mars? No way! Is that the pop star everyone is going crazy for? ‘Yuki’ right?”

I replied, “Yup! That’s the one! I actually have to bring some things they forgot when they left the other day.”

Earl grabs a postcard from his folder he was carrying. “Well, could you show some love to the motel up there?”

I look at the picture of the motel which had several cars driving in the background, “You bet Earl, thanks for everything”.

I caught some sleep and woke up just in time for the “15 minute warning” for the vans arrival. We all loaded in and waved goodbye. Tommy was, of course, holding up the show and making out with the girl Alice. You know, the girl he nearly killed last night. I think that’s what her name was. Actually, I’m not really sure what her name was; but I guess it’s best we leave town on a good note.

And there we were; back on the road, heading to Colorado, cracking jokes trying to laugh off the bizarre events from the night before.

Tommy leans from his seat to me, “Barry, man, thank you for being there. We all appreciate it and I promise you that I’m never driving again! Well, unless I come back out here and see her again” he chuckles.

It had been on my mind all morning though, that maybe it was time for a career change. Possibly something with less responsibility for those least responsible. Maybe I’ll start my own band or label and just be in charge of myself. Who knows?

The Colorado show went off without a hitch; other than arriving right as soon as the band was scheduled to be on in 30 minutes. I’m glad we made it, but also just as glad to be out and not in charge of these maniacs for a long time. I left early to catch my train to the launch pad in California.

I can’t believe I made it.

Still sleepy and still taking in the events of the last two days, I figured it was a perfect time to take a sleep aid; seeing as I’ll be boarding a space shuttle to live in (which is basically a hotel lobby) for two months.

From what I’ve read, these launches can make you feel sick quickly; so it’s probably best to be passed out for that part. I get through security, get my bags checked, then board the ship. As I’m seated and buckled, I lay back with freshly charged headphones and some classics playing.

I slowly doze off.

I wake up, and I’m not in the ship anymore, but back in the port at the launchpad in a wheelchair. A flight attendant is near me, sees that I’m awake, and jumps up.

“Sir we are so sorry to inform you like this, but our ship had trouble taking off and was grounded. A second ship left later

in the day, but you have been out for about 10 hours and we could not get you into the next one passed out like that.”

I feel ambushed by the whole situation.

I’m still waking up but I take a second to process it “So when’s the next one?”

She replies, “Unfortunately, the Mars shuttle only flies three times a month, twice a day. That was the last one, and there are currently no options for two weeks. I’m so sorry for the inconvenience”

I’m still processing, but try to negotiate with her, “So what else can I get? my clients need their package.”

She responds, “Well your boss, Tim I believe, has left a package and note for you about that.”

I open the packages and letter.

“Hey, Barry. Give me a call when you get this. You’ve got a new mission. You're now taking the daily flight tomorrow to the moon for ‘Faded Wolf’s’ surprise show next week for the moon colony at the Lunar Lounge.

PS: Mars mail carrier will take the package; don’t worry. But you gotta watch these guys again!

You owe me!

And the label!”

Really? I quit.

[icefir-windbreaker]

Countdown to April 13

It Day 44 and I had realized that we are motoring through March like there’s no tomorrow!

Holy heck-a-beck! I had been thinking to do this, this is mostly story-written directive but I will leave a cliff hanger for those to write out for themselves since I had known the writers on Tumblr and I had a role-playing experience that had been an outlet for my writing before so. I could do this story no problem, Sit back and enjoy reading this bad boy out.

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

The Mexican had manged to grabbed hold of the edge as two Helghast soldiers had seen him jumped off the crate and climbed onto the wall, “Surrender now, Double Agent!” shouted one of them before adding “Or we will shoot to kill.”

Diego, however, isn’t going to give up that easily as he tried to use both his feet to climb but he was struggling to do so as he heard guns being reloaded. They are persistent to ensure that the Mexican Spy isn’t going to live that easily, Diego had been through this with Alistair Rhodes when the Chaos Order are after them both but he had never seen anything more than other worldly soldiers who are out to kill.

Just when Diego was ready to give up, gunfire, glass breaking and screams filled the air that made Diego think they had opened fire but soon realized that he haven’t felt bullets shooting through him and turned around to see that Scarlett, Bruno and Shaw had came just in the neck of time to save Diego, that easily explained what had happened.

“Hurry now Diego! we need to get to Radec!” Shaw said as he ran inside with Bruno and Scarlett while he dangles on the edge of the window a little bit.

“Si, si...” Diego muttered as he had manged to successfully climbed onto the window but something hard and metallic had meet his nose, he looked what it was he hit while he rubbed his nose but his eyes went wide as he saw it was a sniper aimed right at him. “You should’ve stayed on the ground while you’d had the chance.” Helghan sniper said as he hold Diego in gunpoint, “Such low intelligence you humans are, never thought to do so as to run-” he continued to say until he screamed as he felt a knife dig deep into his back then falls forward while Spy stood behind looking at him fell down.

Then, the Frenchman looked at the Maxican before extending his hand to him and saying “After you.”

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

And I will leave the rest for you, decide what will happen next and I will see you all later!

Also, I had been working on a Crossover-fighting game fanfiction but I don’t feel sharing more information of it to you guys as it felt like it was be embarrassing to tell you all. Maybe, I would explain more in the future when I am feeling confident enough.

I tag:

@gulliblepineapples

@zombie-love-bites

@ask-takeo-and-nikolai

@aetherdweller

@writers-glitch

and

@sampoststuff

[leifandthorn]

Webcomic Buffers And You, for #WeHeartComics

I keep turning up new webcomic-related Twitter discussions. This one was an (irregular?) offering from WeHeartComics, a product of the SpiderForest collective. (Think “Hiveworks for artists who aren’t into bees.”)

Last Friday was a chat about buffers. Which was a striking thing to jump into, because I’d just been listening to the ComicLab episode where the hosts go “ahh, regular updates are so 10 years ago! Just update whenever you draw something. Readers will be into it.”

And that works great if you’re Kate Beaton (of Hark! A Vagrant) or Sarah Andersen (of Sarah’s Scribbles), where your whole thing is random self-contained standalone bits. (It also helps if they’re Really Good standalones.) But, listen, it’s all wrong for a comic with any kind of continuity. If you slack on the updates there, readers will forget where they are in the story, and end up losing interest.

I don’t know if if strict update times are necessary in the social-media age. Nobody knows when Webcomic Woes is going to update, and it doesn’t matter, because as long as you stay on top of your Patreon/Deviantart/Tumblr feed, it’ll be served up to you.

But for those story-based comics, you’ve got to keep a regular update rate (e.g. “twice a week”). So you may as well keep the posting dates and times consistent too. Keeps your life simple, makes it easier to track your to-do list.

And with that, on to the questions…

Q1. Do you try to keep a buffer of comic pages? Why or why not? #WeHeartComics pic.twitter.com/aYgkNRoD9W

— WeHeartComics (@WeHeartComics) April 6, 2018

For Leif & Thorn, yes. I like titling strips in the format of “This Storyline 1/24” (a tic picked up from Bruno The Bandit)…and that only works if my buffer reaches the end of This Storyline.

The current arc is getting broken up into sub-acts — starting with “The Show Must Grow On: Overture” — mostly because I’m not far enough to have the numbers otherwise. Did the same thing splitting off the 14-strip An Incredibly Platonic Shopping Day, even though it leads straight (hah) into the next storyline, because Summer Sunshine clocked in at a full 84 strips. I could manage to be 84 strips ahead, but not 98.

As of this writing, I’ve drawn 18 strips into The Show Must Grow On: Act I. Which is…not bad, but there’s gonna need to be a crackdown of work this weekend. And the next one. And probably the next.

For But I’m A Cat Person — eheh, it used to have a buffer. Now I’m almost always working one page ahead. Talked a lot about the effects of that in an earlier WebcomicChat about pacing.

And then there’s Webcomic Woes, which is bufferless by nature. It gets made on a “whenever I have an idea” basis, and I don’t have more than one relevant idea per day.

A1 YES!

I'm working on getting a buffer of at least 52 pages because I have a crazy day job and I want enough buffer for a year of weekly updates.#WeHeartComics

— TeJay is Drawing (@TeJay_the_Mad) April 6, 2018

This here is a heroic effort. I’ve never had a full-page buffer that long.

(Technically, I’m 50-ish updates ahead with Leif & Thorn right now — but since it’s a daily strip, that only comes out to a month and a half’s worth of lead time.)

Q1 #WeHeartComics I prefer to always work on solid ground so right now I have a hefty buffer of 800 pages. (even more if I include book 2)

— 🐀Kristen🐉Kiomall-Evans🐒 (@BatichiKristen) April 6, 2018

…and here we have the winner of this thread.

Q2. What drawbacks or advantages does your current buffer (or lack of) give you?#WeHeartComics pic.twitter.com/wmju0giUTm

— WeHeartComics (@WeHeartComics) April 6, 2018

Low buffer gives you a quick turnaround on “whoops, readers didn’t understand that reference, I’ll have a character explain it on the next page.” High buffer gives you security in case you fall out of a tree and have to put your drawing arm in a cast for three months.

A2: The advantage is if something happens, I won't have to miss an update. Since I post on Webtoons, this kicks me down in rankings, which potentially loses me subs/PVs. Drawbacks, are that I can't make any changes to the story arc or I'll have to redo portions #WeHeartComics

— Lisa ⭐️ リサ (@asilris) April 6, 2018

…and then there’s algorithms. Or, on a site like mine, the Webcomic plugin is configured to send cranky emails if the buffer runs low.

Although I find that having a large buffer, so you can redo something while it’s in the buffer, is much easier than redoing it after it’s posted! If you realize on page 10 that you need a Chekhov’s gun that should’ve been on the wall on page 1, you really want page 1 to be unposted. I’ve resorted to post-posting edits, but only in the case of serious continuity errors.

(If you’re really bored some afternoon, go through the BICP archives page-by-page and see how many errors you can spot compared to the originals — which are all preserved on the SmackJeeves mirror.)

Q3. Life sometimes eats away at buffers. What techniques do you use to get around that?#WeHeartComics pic.twitter.com/qKtmCWYUDA

— WeHeartComics (@WeHeartComics) April 6, 2018

With Leif & Thorn: hasn’t been a problem. (Knock wood.)

With BICP: uh, mostly posting stuff late with apologies. The comic was originally 3 pages a week, and I couldn’t keep that up full-time, so I took it down to 2 (it goes back up sometimes for special events, like the second Christmas special), and that helped.

I do a week or two of filler between chapters, and I’ve given myself a couple longer hiatuses…but do not have the discipline to use them for buffering, heh. I just use them to recharge before jumping back into the “whoops, gotta draw tomorrow’s page now” rollercoaster.

Waaaay back in the day (2003!), And Shine Heaven Now had 6-strips-a-week updates. When my Dell died and the buffer ran out, I drew a week of filler at the library in MSPaint rather than go updateless.

In retrospect, under the circumstances, I’m sure readers would’ve forgiven a mini-hiatus! But for some reason it honestly didn’t occur to me as an option.

Q4. Do you have advice to those wanting to create buffers?#WeHeartComics pic.twitter.com/S1v4ndaZVI

— WeHeartComics (@WeHeartComics) April 6, 2018

Work up a big one before your comic actually launches. I had several months of Leif & Thorn drawn before I started posting, and the buffer has been healthy ever since.

After that, just pace yourself. Figure out what your workflow is, and adapt your schedule to work with it! Some authors like writing out a script beforehand, others like working it out as they draw. Some artists need strict and well-planned schedules, others (*cough*) get revved up by looming deadlines. In the immortal words of Jan Valentine: whatever works is cool.

Q5. If a buffer can’t be made, what advice would you give others seeking to reduce the stress of regular updates?#WeHeartComics pic.twitter.com/5ipyS6qiOh

— WeHeartComics (@WeHeartComics) April 6, 2018

…I mean, if your comic is suited to irregular updates, you can always just do that.

If not, you’re allowed to take breaks. Just give your readers accurate information about your plans, and then stick to them. Don’t be the person whose site still says “after this short hiatus, My Awesome Comic will return in May 2017!” when it’s April 2018.

If you can’t do irregular updates, and you can’t make a buffer, and it’s too stressful to keep up regular updates, and you can’t even get back from hiatus…then maybe this isn’t the comic you should be doing, and it’s time to gracefully bow out. (More on that next post.)

(Original post.)

[ac-ars]

Losing the love

this was super quick and super spontaneous, it happened because i rewatched the scene and i got desperate for this (+blame my playlist for this)

not to mention that it’s super big mess

Matteo's breathing suddenly stops. He's not able to take single breath in, neither breathe out. It's like all air in his lungs froze, turned into ice and the weight of it is too much for his legs to stand still.

He needs to lean away from the lockers, he needs to before either Luna or Simón finds out that he was here. That he was here and heard everything they said, every single word, every single sad cry from Luna. He noticed every change of her tone; knowing when she smiled softly or when she frowned sadly and honestly he can't even imagine how much he'd die if he saw her like this.

It hurts as fuck, burns like fire and it's nothing like good warmth inside him. Matteo feels like being burned alive, completely not sure what to do right now. Everything got too real, no matter how much he has tried to focus on other things, to live delusional that he's just reaching for his dreams.

But all he keeps doing is hurting the most important person in his life. He's ruining the most precious feeling he has ever felt and someone has ever felt towards him. He's wrecking it, burning down and he notices it just now. All those times he has thought she would understand, that she would still support him no matter what feel like nothing right now, because only things it caused was his ego growing and breaking her.

It hits him more than everything has ever hit him; neither of her angry words or Gastón’s talks ever worked and they should've. They all should've worked and they would have if he only hadn't been so stupid, so blinded by moment of attention, by some compliments from Bruno and it only left a mess, which probably won't be that easy to fix, if it will be any fixable ever.

Luna is crying because of him. Again.

Luna is crying. He made Luna cry. Not for the first time.

He acted like an asshole. Again.

He doesn't deserve any single look from her, he shouldn't ask for any, for any word. He should just pick his ass up and apologize.

Simón is whispering some words to Luna and Matteo just wants her to stop crying, because he's not worth of any of her tears. He wants to run there, around the lockers; it's just lockers between them, yet he made it being like black hole consuming all good they have ever had. He wants to run to her and hug, pull her and hide in his chest hoping that it will calm her down, it will make her feel safe, but he knows it won't.

Because his arms are dangerous for her now.

Before he can screw it any more he leaves locker room quickly, bumping into the wall with his arm, yet never stopping. He crashes into Bruno who smiles widely at him, but Matteo is able only to shake his head few times and pass his manager by, not caring about his shouts behind.

He stops by the stage, sits on its edge and hides face in his hands. Deep breath in. Breathe out. This is too much right now, too much and not enough; it doesn't hurt enough, because Luna was in bigger pain.

He denied her, he acted like it was nothing and she understood. This is ridiculous, how could he ever say that she's not his girlfriend? Now when she probably won't be anymore soon he just wants her to stay, even if he was the one who left. He yelled on her, acted like an asshole, even worse and she has never wanted any bad for him. Matteo almost cries thinking of this, but he will cry later.

“Hey bro, what happened?” Gastón rests his hand on Matteo's shoulder and sits next to him. Italian is only able to shake his head without looking at his best friend. “Come on, it can't be that bad.”

Balsano nods and asks instead: “Gastón, do you think I changed? Or I'm acting differently?” He will never admit that he hopes his best friend will deny. Yet Gastón bites on his lower lip and looks away.

“I wouldn't say that you changed. More like you let yourself go around too freely after you got few compliments.”

Matteo sighs completely aware that Perida said it gently, so he gives up. “I fucked up with Luna.”

“Did you really?” Gastón asks and Matteo is sure he hears sarcasm there. “What happened?”

“I got mad at her,” he says, his friend chuckles.

“You got mad at her? What did she do, trashed Bruno or what?” Maybe it was supposed to be a joke, but it stings Matteo as fuck. Even Gastón.

“She is investigating and looking for her biological parents. And she has never said anything.” He shrugs hoping that when he says it out loud it will sound like it's giving him right to be mad, or at least annoyed. But it doesn't.

“I'm sorry to be the one saying this, bro, but you should think what you want to do with your life, because all you keep doing now is being Bruno's little bitch.” Gastón’s voice is calm and stable and it's impossible how good his friend is at keeping it cool. Matteo can do it too, but not when he hears person he truly loves saying all these words and crying.

“That doesn't matter. Luna is crying.” He mumbles looking around the cafeteria with empty eyes.

“Again?” That's it about feeling better. “I mean, did you two talk now or what?”

“I overheard her talking to Simón. She said that she thought things between us couldn't work out.” As soon as he says it it hits him again, with double force and his chest is in ice and fire again.

“Wow, Matteo.” Gastón murmurs shaking his head. “Since I'm your best friend I need to say that she is probably right. As long as you choose everything over her.”

Italian stares at him surprised, but Perida just smiles sadly, patting his back and wishing him good luck before leaving.

Nothing will separate us he said once it twice. He even promised. Now he's the one being the reason they can't work it out.

Tears are going down his face, but he can't care anymore. Luna is crying. Because of him.

He can cry too.

[dwtsreviewarchive]

DWTS S24 Week 2 Recap / Review

1. Nancy Kerrigan & Artem Chigventsev -Cha Cha (7+7+7+7=28) Nancy has a really compelling narrative. For her to be so talented, accomplished & beautiful, the fact that she harbors so much insecurity & can’t take a compliment is endearing & heartbreaking all together. Artem is a really good partner for her, I think he’ll keep chipping at that wall she has up all season. This was one of my favorite cha cha’s of the night, I had to re-watch cause I missed it the first time, it had so much recognizable content. She really has amazing footwork, she just needs to step with more confidence & keep her control but she’s so much better than she gives herself credit for.

How cute is it to see Artem so happy about having a good partner. lol

2. Erika Jayne & Gleb Savchenko - Foxtrot (7+7+7+7=28) The dance was good, Ericka has great legs & potential for amazing lines, she’s very aware of her body & very confident which is awesome. The foxtrot could’ve been more graceful was a bit rushed & hectic at times. 

Now.. Here’s my problem with Gleb & his partners as of late, they seem to not grasp the concept of sexiness AND substance, equally mixed. I’m all for liberation, especially for women, I think it’s beautiful when women such as Ericka embrace their sexiness & sensuality so fearlessly. It’s one of the reasons Peta is one of my favorite pro dancers. But based on her package, I fear she doesn’t understand that sexiness being your personality or dance concepts entire driving force will eventually become one note. Being one note on a show like this doesn’t get very far, you have to be a symphony of different notes. In other words, versatile. I hate that she thinks that the criticism of her is that she shouldn’t own that part of her womanhood so much cause it’s not. Women are complex creatures, sexuality is one singe part of who we are, there are only so many weeks, I would like to see at least one or two different aspects to who she is as woman and dancer. What I mean by substance is something more tangible than just, “Oh a cop pulled me over, let me seduce him to get out of a ticket. “ That’s such a fly by night, unmemorable concept. You don’t have to fall in love with the cop & sing Ave Maria but connect to some emotions that make me connect to the human inside of you. Sexiness is not something you do or should seem try hard. It should naturally exude without you telling us. There is real beauty in sex & sensuality that’s deeper than this dance ever tried go. 

This is not meant to be specifically a take-down of Erica she seems like quite a lovely person inside & out, their package & dance just happened to be the catalyst for this rant. If anything a lot my issues on this subject lie with Gleb, I don’t find he has a lot of the ability or willingness to push his partner past the sexy surface. As the pro, I would like to see him try to get his partner out of their comfort zone more often. Of course the celeb is going to want to do what makes them comfortable but maybe guide them down a more diverse journey.

3. Charro & Keo Motsepe - Paso Doble (6+6+7+6=25)  She might be extra as all get out. but I'm living for these two after tonight . If she reigns her energy in, she could really impress. She had great legs & seemingly great stamina, I’m really interested to see how much she can improve in the next few weeks.  I love how outgoing, confident & naturally exuberant Charro clearly is, it’s definitely not a put on, that’s really her everyday & I can’t even be mad at that. I would like to see her reign it in & show some restraint, because like Erika & Gleb, it can become one note quick.

4. Nick Viall & Peta Murgatroyd - Foxtrot (7+5+7+6=25)

In Nick’s defense that was some challenging choreography, but good on Peta for trying to push him but it was probably too much too soon. You could see it on his face that he wanted to do better than he was doing. He’s really got to relax, he’s more going through the steps than dancing. Hopefully Nick will get more comfortable in the coming weeks.

5.Heather Morris & Maksim Chmerkovskiy (injured) & Alan Bersten (stand in) - Jive (8+6+8+8=30)

Wow, what a difference a week makes. In just 2 weeks Heather has given us two vastly different sides to her. Last week she was appropriately subdued for the VW, this week she came out roaring in her jive mixed with pop / hip hop. Smartly choreographed to her advantage & make her shine, if not with the judges, with the fans, again smart. Her jive was pretty solid to me, obviously her hip hop was pretty much perfect, she channeled her inner Beyonce. I do agree with Bruno that she was clearly more comfortable & confident in the hip- hop. She needs to bring that spark & attack to the ballroom / latin dances as well. 

6. Bonner Bolton & Sharna Burgess - Viennese Waltz (8+6+8+7=29) Ughh, I hate to be this person but I just don’t connect with Bonner. Something about him feels inauthentic. I don’t see all this “chemistry” between him & Sharna. I sense he likes her, likes her, & she’s just really good at her job. Back to the dancing, it was an ok effort, beautifully choreographed, but his posture wasn’t great & footwork sometimes messy. Those 8′s are some bulllll. 

7. Simone Biles & Sasha Farber - Cha Cha (7+7+7+8=29) This girl is tight, really find myself watching for mistakes more than anything. This was in no way as poor as the 7′s suggest. I didn’t really see the timing issues Carrie Ann saw. My criticism of Simone would be, she’s very robotic when she dances, it’s definitely an Olympic gymnast trait (Shawn, Aly, Nastia), almost devoid of emotion, I really want to see her in a rumba or VW & see if she can show some range in her emotions. The 7′s were insane, considering Bonner got 8′s, showed how over scored he was. He should’ve got 7′s & Simone 8′s. 

8. Chris Kattan & Witney Carson - Jive (6+5+6+5=22) Some celebs it’s not about the dancing so much as the journey & overall experience. This season for me as viewer that’ Chris. We know he won’t be the best dancer of the season, he knows, the judges know, but that doesn’t he don’t want to see him be the best dancer he can be considering his physical impairment. 

9. Normani Kordei & Val Chmerkovskiy - Cha Cha (8+8+8+8=32)

Best performance of the night at this point. She really killed it, face, hair, legs, technique all while traveling across the world each week. This girl is special, I’ve never cared much about Fifth Harmony but this girl is going places all her own. Heather needs to do what Normani does, which is turn it on for every dance, let her confidence lead her even if she's truly unsure. Great job by Val with the choreography & teaching with such an unprecedented traveling schedule.  

10. Rashad Jennings & Emma Slater - Viennese Waltz (8+8+8+8=32) There is a quiet storm brewing with this couple, they are seriously ones to watch. I could see them snatching the trophy if they stay consistent. Between Simone, Normani & Rashad, I can’t think of a better finale. Rashad has the substance I want Erika to find & the sincerity I don’t get from Bonner. He can dance, he’s good looking to boot & he’s seems incredibly genuine. The judges were right when they say that he leads Emma & takes control of her the way a man should in the dance. For Week 2 that’s really remarkable for a male celeb. There’s a quiet confidence in him that’s really attractive, he dances with confidence but he doesn’t overdo it, he reallu delicate with Emma. These two are really special to watch.

11. Mr. T & Kym Herjavec - Paso Doble (6+5+6+5=22) I hate “judging” dancers like Mr. T, cause personally I love his story but dance wise it’s not the best. You can definitely see that he is working hard on improving the steps & timing, which was so much better than Week 1. I agree with Carrie Ann that the punching can stop now, explore so more range of motion but I think Kym is doing a good job with not overloading him with steps he can’t possibly keep up with.

12. David Ross & Lindsay Arnold - Cha Cha (7+6+7+7=27) David is pretty fly for a white guy. I love his spunk & approach to this show & dances. This week was not an improvement to his Quickstep, which was pretty good. But I like that Chris is willing to get loose & have some fun, hopefully we get to see a more polished side of him next week. 

ELMINATION

In Jeopardy

Chris & Witney -   Eliminated - Damn, I love Chris, his bravery & willingness to try something new & so physically vulnerable like this. God bless him.

Charro & Keo

[princeandvanitydotnet-blog]

Morris Day on Final Meeting With Prince

New Post has been published on http://princeandvanity.net/forums/topic/morris-day-on-final-meeting-with-prince/

Morris Day on Final Meeting With Prince

A Rolling Stone Interview

Source: Yahoo

  Morris Day on Final Meeting With Prince: ‘He Knew Something Wasn’t Right’

At 59, Morris Day is, amazingly, the same insouciant cane-twirler the world met in Purple Rain. “Morris Day, calling in,” he announces with a cocky purr on the phone from his home in Boca Raton, Florida.

Last year, the legendary funk-R&B singer and leader of the Time (a group Prince organized and, ultimately, controlled) recorded his fifth solo album at Doggy Style Records – a special request by Snoop Dogg himself, who executive-produced. It was part of a thrilling period for Day. In 2015, his music was introduced to a new generation of fans via Mark Ronson and Bruno Mars’ clearly Time-informed Number One hit “Uptown Funk,” as well as Hozier and Este Haim’s cover of the Time’s “Jungle Love” at Coachella.

But everything changed one day last April. Day got a call that someone at Paisley Park had died – and eventually confirmed it was Prince. “It was a bad day,” he says, nearly a year later and still shaken. In February, Morris Day released a poignant new ballad called “Over That Rainbow.” The video, premiering here on the one-year anniversary of Prince’s death, shows Day like we’ve never seen him: understated, vulnerable and heartbroken.

Currently on a tour that will last through the summer, Day spoke to Rolling Stone about his last conversation with Prince, his bittersweet Grammys performance with Mars and the pranks he used to play with Prince – namely, lying to the press (including in a Rolling Stone cover story) about a made-up engineer known as Jamie Starr.

  Where did the “Somebody get me a mirror!” bit in your stage show come from?  Well, that was all just a part of being cool.

Do you remember the first time you did that, though? Absolutely. We were at rehearsal getting ready to go on tour. Jerome [Benton] wasn’t in the band yet. He actually used to help us with luggage and kind of do whatever we needed, like a gopher. He’d go to the store, go get us some burgers. So we were rehearsing the song at this little dingy rehearsal hall and when I got to the part in the show where I said, “Somebody bring me a beer,” he ran in the bathroom and grabbed an old mirror off the wall and ran up to me with it [laughs]. We’ve been doing it ever since.

That’s amazing. You even did it when you played Kimmel with Haim in 2015.

  That was an awesome performance. The girls just fell right in. We didn’t even have to rehearse. We talked and it was like, “Y’all know how to do this dance?” and they were like, “Yeah, we could do it.” “That was an awesome performance,” Day says of appearing with Haim on ‘Kimmel.’ Randy Holmes/ABC/Getty

  So, can Snoop Dogg do the Bird? Oh, yeah. Snoop is always dancing. Snoop is a funny guy. Before I met him we’d be on conference calls, strategizing about doing something in the future. He was always like, “I consider myself the eighth member of the Time.”

Did Snoop have a major influence on the new Time album? Well, he does his thing on some tracks. When we decided to go into the [Doggy Style Records] studio, he was like, “Give me a little time and I promise you it will be a classic.” We were a couple months into the project when Prince passed away. So, we’d been working already and that’s when [“Over That Rainbow”] came. It took me a while to decide if I wanted to put my emotions on the line in a song like that.

Why? I was in denial like a lot of people probably were. I had just been at Paisley Park like two months prior [because] Prince wanted us to come a party with him. … When I found out it was really him [that died] it didn’t really hit me. It took a while to sink in.

  Day with Bruno Mars at the Grammys. “It was a great opportunity,” he says. “But I hated the reason that I was there.” Matt Sayles/Invision/AP

Your Bruno Mars collaboration at the Grammys was considered the best Prince tribute. What was that like for you? It was double-edged for sure. It was a great opportunity. But I hated the reason that I was there. Now, when I perform onstage it’s like a presence thing. I feel like [Prince] is watching over. We always had such close creative ties – I’d wonder what he would think of my stuff and he’d probably wonder what I thought of what he was writing.

Did Prince seem any different to you before he died? Well, at the time, I thought nothing of it. But in retrospect, I thought maybe something wasn’t right. I thought, he looked thin, even though he always looks fragile. After he passed away, I just wondered if he knew something that he wasn’t telling me. I just felt like he knew. Like he knew that something wasn’t right. Maybe he said it in just being adamant about seeing us again. Maybe that was a sign in itself.

It’s long been common knowledge that the cowriter on the first Time album – the fictitious engineer named Jamie Starr – was really Prince. But you’ve both insisted he was real to journalists. To Rolling Stone, in fact, you said, “Of course he’s real.” I lie [laughs].

How long did you both keep that going? [Laughs] Forever. It just kind of kept a bit of intrigue on the behind-the-scenes side of things. Only in recent years did we start saying that basically [Prince] and I did the whole damn album. The Time wasn’t even together as a band at the time. We put the band together after we got the deal with Warner Brothers.

When The Time came out, you guys were the hottest touring band. Was it true that Prince felt intimidated by you? We’re still the hottest band out there [laughs]. Nobody does what we do. Nobody does the steps, the real music. It turned into a bit of a rivalry for real because sometimes he would lay into us pretty good, and then sometimes, we’d kick his ass musically. And people were seeing it. So it got to the point where in certain markets like L.A. or New York, he wouldn’t let us [perform] and when we were touring together, we’d get the night off occasionally, because he didn’t want that kind of pressure.

In an old Letterman interview, you said you were done working with Prince after Purple Rain. Do you feel Prince is responsible for damaging the Time’s legacy, by not granting you rights to the name? That was frustrating at times, but in a way, it went the way it was supposed to go. In my opinion, he kind of saved us from ourselves. When we did the Original 7ven project, I think it would have looked like more of a fiasco if we had used the name the Time and it really got the attention it would have gotten then. Because I would’ve used the name. But in hindsight, it was the right decision.

  “Sometimes Prince would lay into us pretty good, and then sometimes, we’d kick his ass musically,” Day says. Warner Bros/Photofest

  But he still let you perform as the Time, just not record as the Time. Well, you know what, for the longest [time] I thought that was very gracious of him. But then I found out from a legal standpoint he couldn’t stop me from using the name [laughs]. I was like, “I’ll be damned.”

You know, the last night that I saw Prince he said, “I want to manage [the Time]. … I want to take you guys to Europe. … I want to put it together for you.”

Wow. Was that completely out of the blue? Did he say why? He just said that he wanted to manage us going overseas, because that’s something we got prevented from doing – which was probably his doing – back in the day. He didn’t want us to go over when the record was hot, when we should’ve gone over there. And we never did. I was just like, “Hey, you know the number. When you want to put it together, we’re ready to go.” And after he passed, guess what? Europe starts calling. The things that he said he wanted to do started to happen. How about that?

There’s been a lot of talk about what music will come out of his vaults. It there anything you know exists that you’re excited people might get to hear? I know I’ve got stuff in the vault, but I don’t really remember the titles. It’ll be interesting for people to hear that ’cause I know Prince wouldn’t have released it [laughs]. The only time we pulled from the vault was specifically for the Graffiti Bridge project, songs like “Jerk Out.” And that was more Terry Lewis and Jimmy Jam asking. It wasn’t on my mind what was in the vault [laughs].

  “I wasn’t in the habit of biting my tongue around him,” Day says of Prince. Courtesy of Morris Day

  Your relationship with Prince always appeared tense but close. Would you say you were one of the few people who collaborated with him as an equal? I always kept it real [with him] because we’d known each other since we were kids. I wasn’t in the habit of biting my tongue around him. And he ended up with a bunch of yes people around him. And I think eventually, that drove the divider between us. At times, he was the classic example of a workaholic. And I’m the polar opposite. Whereas, when I reached my limit, I’d be like, “Damn, I need to go lay down,” so I’d just sleep on the couch or I’d go back to whatever hotel, wherever we’re staying, and he’d show up hours later when the sun was up, completely finished with what we were working on.

What’s the ultimate funk song you guys wrote together? One of my favorites is “Ice Cream Castles.” Back then, of course, we had women on the brain 24/7 – the different flavors – and that’s kind of how that happened. And at that time, there were groups like the Fixx, the Cure doing those haunting, melodic songs and we wanted to do one of our own. And by the end of the song, it kind of turns a corner from being a pop song and starts to get funky. I like that part because back in the day, it was all about the uptempo – the funkier the better. I lived for being in the studio, putting together those grooves.

And you were cool with the Joni Mitchell lyric as the title? I wasn’t as infatuated with her [as Prince] was. As matter of fact, I didn’t really get it [laughs]. No disrespect to her. I’d try and listen, and I’d be like, “Dude, I don’t get it.” It just wasn’t my thing.

  Source: Yahoo

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[llheadcanons-blog]

OKAY SO SINCE ARSEN MADE ME CRY I’M POSTING HALF OF HIS REQUEST EARLY.

[Please note: I have not checked this for typos or awkward phrasings yet. I might also need to flesh them out? Maybe? depends. I hope you all still ENJOY]

OH AND ALSO I ACCIDENTALLY WROTE A SCENARIO (that didn’t hurt too bad) FIRST SO YOU GET THAT TOO

can i have headcanons for jotaro and bruno, and how they would react to their lover being under the effects of a Stand that warps their perception of people? so now the people that are their friends/loved ones are now frightening strangers to them?

Jotaro couldn't understand how he let them get hit. Even though they were right by his side, even though he saw the attack coming, he some how couldn't make it by a hair's breadth. His s/o had been hit right in the chest by the enemy stand's projectile, and had immediately passed out from the impact.

So did the enemy thanks to the swift rage that consumed Jotaro.

After the enemy was taken care of, Jotaro had picked his s/o up and tossed them over his shoulders. Not really knowing what else to do, he made his was back to the hotel everyone was staying at, and had his s/o checked by Joseph and Avdol.

After it was concluded that they'd more than likely be fine, Jotaro noticed their eyes start to open, and almost immediately, his s/o screamed and summoned their stand. While Joseph tried to calm them down, they only backed up more towards the wall.

"P-please don't come any closer! Get away from me!"

While Joseph's first instict was to get closer to make sure you were okay, Jotaro would grab him by his shoulder and tell him to -piss off- leave.

When Joseph and Avdol left, Jotaro immediately went to the other side of the room to give his s/o as much space as they needed.

His s/o looked so scared of him, they couldn't stop staring at him and jumping when he so much as breathed.

'Give me a break. I should've broken his other arm too, the bastard.'

"Look. It's okay. I won't hurt you. You were hit by an enemy stand, and you aren't in your right mind. Now just calm down and--"

"How am I supposed to trust you?! JUST STAY THE HELL AWAY!"

"Give me a fucking break..."

=======================================================

As stated above, Jotaro wouldn't know how he let this happen. Even though he tried to protect his s/o, he still let them get hurt. Worst part was the stand had lingering effects, and the guilt of not knowing when they'd get better would eat Jotaro up inside.

Seeing their eyes widen in fear as they woke up broke something in Jotaro. Even worse was when they begun to scream, as if his mere presence was a threat on their lives.

Pushing the pain and guilt aside, Jotaro would try and calm them down, to explain what happened without losing his cool and making the situation even worse. But as they kept screaming and screaming for him to stay away, he just couldn't take it anymore.

"WOULD YOU SHUT THE HELL UP AND LISTEN TO ME DAMMIT?! YOU AREN'T IN CONTROL, SO JUST CALM DOWN!"

His s/o would be so scared that they couldn't breathe anymore. They were having a full blown panic attack and Jotaro could only blame himself. He began losing control of himself, to make clear judgments, and tried to get close to them, to try and help them in case they really couldn't breathe, but his s/o would get even worse.

At some point his s/o would try and make a run for it, and as much as he didn't want to scare them, he sure as hell wasn't letting them go out. Not as they were now.

He'd grab them from behind and try (not that it was hard) to drag them back in the room, but doing so, as expected, had made them scream out in bloody murder. They were screaming, crying, and acting as if their lives were truly on the line. Jotaro couldn't help but hold them tighter, wishing there was something he could do to make it all stop, for both of their sake’s.

At some point, someone would kick the door down believing Jotaro's s/o was in trouble. It would be at this point that Jotaro decided he's had enough of this game. He would knock the living daylights out of whoever entered, and would hit his s/o in just the right way to make them lose consciousness as well.

After, he'd gently lift them up and carry them back to their bed. When Joseph finally came by to check how things were, he'd see Jotaro hovering over you. While Jotaro would still seem stoic to anyone else, Joseph could see clearly in his eyes just how much pain and guilt he was in.

He'd see that Jotaro couldn't stop blaming himself for letting this happen.

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

Just as an extra because I couldn't find a place to put this in above.

If his s/o somehow escaped and encountered an ally of DIO, Jotaro would go absolutely insane. They would approach the enemy as if they were their savior, begging them to please save them...

They'd go missing, but Jotaro would have a good idea on where he'd find them.

Seeing them tied up upon entering DIO's mansion, bloodied and bruised, Jotaro would finally snap. There'd be no more stoicism in his face, just pure rage as he immediately set out to find DIO and have him pay a 1000 fold for what he did to them. Let's just say the DIO in canon would have had it easy compared to the rage fueled time stops Jotaro would unleash.

[moody-bloosh]

would you do a sequel of bruno's cheating leading to reader disappearing on him? what would he do? 👀👀👀👀👀👀

👀👀 *whisperyells* yES. oh boy oh boy, now i know this looks bad but wow is cheating angst 👌💯 thank you for giving me this excuse to continue the suffering. 

[ chapter navigation: Part 1 | Part 3 ]  

do you feel held by him? (Bruno Buccellati) 

When he returned home that night, he felt a sense of unease wrap around him like a heavy blanket. Your home was unusually silent. Normally, you’d be sitting by the couch, sleeping peacefully as you waited up for him. He would wake you up with a gentle touch and as you stirred awake, a smile would bloom on your lips as you stared up sleepily at him. Guilt would wrap around his throat like a noose as you greeted him with a soft, “welcome home, darling.”

He assumed that maybe you had just stepped out. His dinner was wrapped neatly on the dining table. You would insist on eating together, you would ask him to tell you about his day. There was only one meal set on the table, he should’ve been suspicious then. But he wasn’t.

An hour passes and another, you still hadn’t returned home. His foot taps against the floor impatiently as he sits on your spot in the couch where you usually waited for him. His mind goes into overdrive as he worries about you. Had you been kidnapped? Had the boss figured out his plans to turn against him? Had you been abducted to send a message to him? His breathing goes shallow, as multiple scenarios, each more horrific than the last floods his mind.

He hopes he’s wrong. He hopes you’ll walk back in the house with an apologetic smile on your lips.

God, please I’ll do anything. Let me see _____ again.

An hour passes and another, it is barely midnight and Abbacchio is on his way.

He watches as you lie on the couch, holding yourself as your tears fall to the floor. Your wailing bounces off the walls, twisting the knife already lodged in his heart. He sees your sorrow, your loneliness, unfiltered by the smile you usually put on for him. Your crying softens to a pitiable sniffle, your eyes are downcast, trained on the floor devoid of any warmth as you slowly stand up. He watches you wipe away your tears with the back of your hand, though it is futile, he reaches out for you as you leave without even looking back.

Abbacchio was saying something but he couldn’t hear it over the sound of his frantic heartbeat. You looked so defeated, so broken. Even though it was all his fault. He wonders if this was what you felt as well, whenever he’d come home smelling of someone else, having spent his time and affections on someone else.

How arrogant could he be to think you would stay? That’s right, you were right to leave. Right to leave him. Right to turn your back on your life with him. So why, why couldn’t he let it end like this?

Ah, that was right. Because he couldn’t turn his back on you, not again.

He resolves to find you himself. At least, thanks to Abbacchio, he knows that you hadn’t been taken by somebody. Abbacchio had insisted on helping him but he had refused. This was something he needed to do with his own strength, his own power.

He thinks he can still be forgiven.

You don’t dare meet his gaze as you slide the folder containing the divorce papers over to him. He was sitting across from you in the dining table of your new apartment. When he’d turned up at your apartment, begging for a second chance. You would be lying if you said you weren’t tempted to give him just that. How sweet it sounded, especially when he held your hands, tears threatening to spill from his eyes.

But then you remember your lonely nights, your still healing heart.

“Let’s end this,” you choked out. “I can’t - I can’t keep fighting for us anymore. I’m tired of this.”

He held the file with trembling hands, his eyes scan the document. His fingers ghosting across the splotchy ink where you’d signed your name.

“Can’t we talk about this?” He asked. 

“Talk?” You laughed a mirthless little laugh that made him wince, “what’s there to talk about? What makes you think talking now will solve anything?”

“Because, because I’ll-”

“You’ll change? Spare me. I can’t recognize you anymore, I can’t even bear to look at you.”

You keep your eyes trained on the floor. Don’t cry in front of him, don’t let him see any more of your weakness.

“Let me go.”

You had just left the house in what feels like forever. You know it does you no good to stay cooped up in that place where you can only think of your husband. That was why you decided to step out for today, just for a change of pace. But everywhere reminded you of him.

Oh, Bruno would like this. You thought as a pretty golden brooch caught your eye. Wouldn’t he like to have this for dinner, you mused as you considered some fish from the vendor. You smiled a shy little grin as memories of happier times filled your mind, seeping in the crevices of your heart.

Yes, there was a time when you’d been happy together. When he’d shown you a smile so genuine, so blissful, a smile that was only yours. You could endure lonely nights and cold sheets because you believed that some small part of him was still yours.

Ah, how foolish, how naive you were.

He looked so happy. He never smiled that way in front of you anymore. They were right out in the street. You knew he had been cheating on you, you knew and yet it still hurt. Out in the open, in broad daylight, he never even noticed you. You were practically invisible to him and his lover.

It feels like a sucker punch to your gut. You wanted to cry, scream, vomit. It feels like everything and nothing all at once. It’s a miracle that you even keep your composure as you backtrack and run back to his house.

Your heart pounds senselessly against your chest. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. Finally, in solitude, in silence, you can crumble. You lie down on the couch, holding yourself as you weep. Your promises of faithfulness, your conviction shatters as the truth of your situation dawns on you. You are alone, unloved, and unwanted.

You can’t stay here anymore. This is not your home anymore. It never was, it stopped being your home the moment he decided to start screwing other people.

Would it have hurt less if you accepted the truth earlier? You don’t know. There’s only one thing you are sure of.

You have to leave.

It is as much for your sake as it is for his.