#how bout a dance part 11 | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

bettathanyou · 1 year ago

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I don't know if you are doing requests currently (if not then just ignore this). Would you mind doing a Cedric from stf x reader, where the reader is under the control of one or maybe several of the villains ? The reader has the ability to switch between human and dragon forms and is skilled with fire magic. Maybe Cedric could be the one to free them somehow and once they regain control of themself he helps them adjust to living in enchancia? Hope that makes sense!

First off, thank you for the request anon!! Requests are ALWAYS open, it'll just take me a while to get them done since I just work very slow and have ADHD. So send any requests whenever you need Cedric content! I'll be your fish! 🐟

Also, while I do appreciate your ask, it has quite a lot of content (which is a good thing!) But I feel like in order to answer this fully, I'd have to make it into at least two parts, so keep an eye out for part 2!!

For simplicity sake, the first portion of your request will be told through bits and pieces of flashbacks- with the main focus being on the rehabilitation of the reader. I hope that's okay, and you understand where I'm coming from.

Thank u sm for the request! I do hope you like it!!

Show Me How To Live With You

(Part 1 of 11)

A Fic with gender neutral shape shifter reader X Cedric the Sorcerer!

This fic is gonna be gender neutral, with gender neutral pronouns.

TW for loss of autonomy, loss of home/family that type of angst, imprisonment, wound descriptions, not graphic, but blood and burns mentioned)

Enjoy, anon! Hope this fic meets your expectations :3

Your eyelids flutter- once, twice; then slam open with a jolt, followed by a choked gasp. Your vision was blurred; that was the first thing you noticed. Then, it was the darkness of the room you occupied. You tried shifting your eyes to take in your surroundings fully; but any movement made you feel as if the world was tipping off its axis, and your body was helplessly slipping through the earth.

You manage to let out a pained groan, nausea immediately making your stomach seize. Clamping your mouth shut, you close your eyes as your fingers gripped anything to anchor yourself from the ceaseless dizziness.

You had expected hard stone, or packed earth- akin to your cell, the one that you rotted away in for months against your will.

Instead, your finger pads met the slippery fabric of silk sheets. The shock of it momentarily snaps you out of your dizzy spell- just long enough for you to sit up. You feel a dull stabbing in your abdomen, and your head protests against your sudden movement with another bout of vertigo.

"Where the fuck am I...?" You thought, trying to gulp deep breaths to steady yourself. The worst of the vertigo passes, but you quickly give up on trying to control it. Forcing yourself to turn your head, you finally take in the room you currently occupy.

You can only make out the vague shapes of furniture, which was already sparse to begin with. A tiny nightstand is tucked next to the bed you're propped up on, with a meager dresser of sorts fit against the wall opposite of you. From the texture of the walls, you figure it was made of stone.

Your eyes drift to the end of the bed, and your eyes rest on the silhouette of a chair at the foot of the bedframe. It was turned in a way that if anyone were to sit in it, the would be staring directly at you.

Your heart leaps into your throat, and you feel sick at the thought of someone watching you while unconscious. Your eyes scan the room again, frantically searching for an exit. The room however, was too dark to discern any door.

Cautiously, you extend your hand and mutter the ancient words that you've known since birth. A tiny ball of fire now dances on your palm, it's flames licking at your skin. You feel somewhat comforted by the small flame, and seeing it's light cut through the long shadows gives you the courage to move.

Inching your legs over the plush mattress proved more difficult than you initially thought, but you manage to stumble out of the bed. As your bare feet touch the cold stone floor, it sends shivers through your whole body.

After collecting yourself for a moment, you search the room again for the exit you seek. Extending your arm, you guide your flame along the walls, expecting to find a door.

What you didn't expect, however, was the drastic change in color and texture as a single satin curtain was draped along the stone. You inch forward, a viotile mix of dread and curiousity edging your body forward.

You now stand in front of the curtain, and you reach out to grab the fabric between your fingers. Inhaling a shaky breath, you silently push the satin aside.

It takes your mind a moment to register what you were seeing as you crane your neck to peek behind the curtain. As you're still processing the foreign room in front of you, the dark shape of a humanoid person drew the breath from your lungs in a sharp gasp.

The figure had their back to you, but the sound of your gasp alerted them. Your mind screamed at you to move, but it felt like your limbs were locked in place by an unseen force. As the figure turned to meet your eyes, it was like time was going in slow motion. Every nerve ending on your skin felt like it was set ablaze, and the only movement you could make was a full body shiver of terror.

The two of you locked in a stare, standing eerily still as a beat of silence passed. The room was only illuminated by weak moonlight, and while his form was shrouded in shadow, the reflection of moonlight through his silver bangs was just enough to betray an equal look of shock on his own face.

The tension in the room was suffocating, as neither of you dared to even take in a breath. You realized you were locked in a stalemate- and one of you inevitably had to break it first.

With that thought now at the forefront of your mind, your body reacts of its own accord. Your feet spring from your idle position, throwing the curtain behind yourself as the ancient dragon fire that resides in your veins bubbles up towards your skin.

Uttering your spell once again, flames burst through your skin, engulfing your arms and hands in a hot blaze that lights up the room. The man cries out in protest, shielding his face from the sudden explosion of flame.

"What in Merlin's name are you doing?" He shouts, his voice hoarse and garbled from panic. The man's reaction makes you hesitate instinctively, as you were expecting him to be more... hostile. You stare down at the man curiously, your eyes studying him with a cat-like gaze.

In the light of your fire, you now got a better look at him. You noticed he was all sharp edges and angles, with not much muscle mass you could discern underneath the dark purple robe he wore.

He's far too weak to overpower me physically, you thought, your eyes lingering over his frame. Even so, you already knew the consequences of letting your guard down before- and you'll be damned if you made a fool of yourself to anyone ever again.

"No questions from you until you answer mine." You growled, stepping forward as you will your flames to rise higher around yourself. Sparks fly from the crackling flames you emit, and you can see the waves of heat coming off you in droves.

"If you keep using your magic like that, there won't be anything left of me to answer your questions!" The man shoots back angrily, his teeth flashing against the amber glow of the fire.

"Explain." You commanded, taking half a step back- just enough to signal your acknowledgement. However, you refuse to lessen the barrier of fire that protects you from the stranger in front of you.

"Look around you-" the man sneered, his cowering position straightening to his full height. Your muscles tense, but slowly you scan around the room. It was messy, to say the least, but you noticed that every crevice held trinkets, books, various foreign equipment and glass bottles that caught in the dancing light of your flames.

"This workshop is full of potions and chemicals that react to heat. Any one of them could be set off this very second, and with the flames you're making-" the man stops, laughing humorlessly as he shakes his head.

"It would cause a chain reaction; until you, me, and this whole tower is completely obliterated into dust." He finished gravely, his eyes glowing like embers as they lock onto yours.

"Is that a threat?" You asked, but the question came out less intimidating than you had hoped.

"It's a warning- and I highly suggest you heed it." He responds stoically, his face blank- but you can see something in his eyes shift.

Almost as if he was pleading.

Reluctantly, you take in a deep breath, exhaling as you extinguished the fire around you. With the light and heat from your magic gone, the chill and darkness of the night rapidly took its place. Sickly pale moonlight scattered the workshop again, casting more shadow than anything.

The man visibly sighs in relief, his body sagging as the adrenaline wears down.

"Thank you, I-" he responds, but you quickly cut him off.

"Where am I, and why?" You pressed him, your voice creating a small echo as you spoke.

The lanky man looks at you in disbelief, with a raised brow and his mouth agape, and you can't tell if he's more shocked or somehow insulted by your question.

Regardless, it pissed you off.

"Why are you looking at me that way?" You snapped, your voice rising in anger. You ball up your hands in the fabric of your clothes, fighting the urge to call upon your flames once more.

The man wipes the emotion from his face, almost too quickly for your liking. He swallows thickly, fidgeting with his robe sleeve in a nervous manner. He stands in silence, lowering his head as his grow furrows in thought.

While his previous reaction pissed you off, this new reaction made you feel- scared.

"... What do you remember last?" He asks you slowly, his head rising up again to eye level.

"That's not an answer," you protested, but your voice came out shaky and weak. You bristled at yourself for losing your nerve so quickly- why was this happening?

"I'm only asking so I can answer your questions in an efficient manner." He replied calmly, waiting for your response.

"I..." You started, hovering where you stood as you tried to dig your brain for answers.

"I remember- being in an evil woman's control. Her name was Vor. She- she captured me, and-" you start, the memories flooding through you as you continued to speak.

"She saw my powers, and wanted to use them for-" you pause, your train of thought coming to a halt. You squeeze your eyes shut to concentrate, but the memories keep slipping through your grasp before you can speak on them.

"Well, whatever the hell she was planning." You muttered under your breath, glaring at the dark stone floor beneath you.

"Is that all you remember?" The man asks tentatively, as if the question would somehow shatter you.

You shake your head no, then continue speaking.

"I don't- I don't remember the things she made me do. Not much, anyways. Everything- everything felt like a blur, and it felt like I was... Not really, there. Like my body and mind were separated from one another." You feel your heart beating quicker as you hear yourself talk.

"I'd blink, and suddenly I would be in a cell, waiting for Vor. Then... I'd be in dragon form- flying somewhere, or-" you stop again, suddenly finding it harder to catch your breath. Your chest tightens, but you force yourself to keep talking before your thoughts escape your grasp.

"Or... there would be fire. My fire... everywhere on the mystic isles." You speak the last sentence in a hush, the shame and dread of the truth gnawing at your insides. The pain you felt earlier in your abdomen claws its way back to your senses, doubling down with the swirl of emotions settling in the pit of your stomach.

"Do you remember princess Sofia and I rescuing you?" The man asks finally, and through gritted teeth you shake your head no. Not because you didn't remember- but because it was getting too hard to even think. Your head was pounding again, in time with the shooting pains that swelled along your stomach.

Draping an arm around your midsection, you feel the feverish heat of an aggravated wound you didn't realize you had- until now. As you slide your hand towards the apex of the pain, the silver banged man spoke again, but you didn't process what was said.

All concentration at this point was on keeping a straight face as to not alert him. Taking a step back, you try to regulate your breathing to calm yourself. Swallowing thickly, you detect a sharp, metallic tang at the back of your throat.

Blood.

"Damn.." you muttered under your breath, glancing down at your stomach. Peeling your fingers away from your side, a dark slick streaked across your digits. Your bloodied hand twinkled in the moonlight, almost mesmerizing you.

Almost.

"...You don't look well; are you alright, (y/n)?" The man asks with worry, closing the gap between you with shockingly good speed.

"Stay away-!" You spat, clumsily moving your body backwards. However, your feet don't land on solid ground- instead, the heel of your shoe got caught up against the flimsy curtain you emerged from previously.

Instinctively, you fling your arms out to catch yourself on anything, but to no avail. Your body was already off the ground, with fabric the same shade of blood that flowed from you, now filling your senses. Your mouth was caught frozen in a silent scream, and all you could possibly do now was brace yourself for the impact of your fall.

You managed to twist your body to the opposite side of your wound before landing with a heavy smack on the cobbled floor. The wind was instantly knocked from your lungs, leaving you choked and wheezing for breath.

Your head that was already pounding before, now felt like it was being split open; and hell- maybe it was considering the fall you took.

The sorcerer was beside you instantly, already asking if you were alright. Your back was to him, and you made no effort to signal that you'd heard him. While you knew your state was dire, you'd rather lay here like a pathetic, wounded animal than expose how weak you truly are right now.

"(y/n)!" The man repeats, louder and more panicked this time. You clench your muscles tightly, trying to anchor yourself to the floor somehow. He repeats your name again, his voice cracking.

You almost want to believe he's.... concerned, for you.

But even still, you wouldn't take the bait. A long beat of silence passes, then you feel a hand grazing your wound. Your body reacts autonomously, body twisting as adrenaline and magic flows through your veins to provide you a defense. Shooting your arm out, a ball of crackling fire erupts from your palm.

You expected the man to react the same way he did before, caught off guard and cowering. It would at least buy you enough time to get on your feet, maybe giving you the chance to run once the adrenaline starts pumping.

However, you could only watch in shock as the silver banged man swiftly pulls a wand from his robe sleeve, his voice strong and clear as a spell leaves his lips that evaporated your ball of flame into a pitiful wisp of smoke.

You stare, slack jawed with your heart skipping multiple beats. The man now stands before you again, his wand now aimed at you.

"If you keep trying to set me on fire, I'm going to lose my patience with you!" He yelled, agitation seeping from his voice. His face was scrunched up in a menacing glare, his brows knitted tightly together and his lips forming a thin line.

You stared at him in silence, until the realization finally hit you.

"You can use dragon fire..." you whispered, almost accusingly at the man before you.

"Of course I can, I'm the royal sorcerer for Merlin's sake." The man snapped back, his eyes boring into yours like hot coals. "But unlike you, I don't go around galavanting with dragonic magic to threaten people on a whim!" The man says, flicking his wand in your direction for emphasis.

The comment made you visibly flinch, hitting a crack that was buried deep in your heart. Images of your dragon fire spreading in hot, unforgiving waves across the bountiful fields of the mystic isles flashed across your mind.

Remembering the smell of smoke and charred houses caused by your destruction makes your eyes water, and you dip your head in shame as your tears drip onto the stone floor beneath you.

Regardless of whether you did it under someone else's control, you knew the people and magical creatures that inhabit your home would never be the same after such devastating attacks. Dragon flame is one of the most powerful forces in the known realms, and while normal fire is capable of bringing forth new life from its ashes, dragon flame will consume everything until there's nothing left but dust.

"...I'm so sorry." You replied in a broken voice, your shoulders sagging from the weight of shame, guilt and grief of your actions leading up to this moment. You weren't sure if your apology was directly for the sorcerer, or for every person who's been affected by your fiery devastation.

Either way, you can't deny the way every cell in your body screams for repentance against the wrongs you've committed.

"I'm so sorry," you mumbled again, quieter this time. Those same three words were now looping endlessly in your brain, blocking out any other forms of vocabulary. You keep your head down, studying the grooves between the stones so you wouldn't have to look your rescuer in the eye.

The man shuffled awkwardly, his feet scuffing against the floor. Your eyes dart quickly to him, and you see his hands fidgeting with the sleeve of his robe. It seems like he wasn't sure what to say, and to be honest, neither did you. You both stay in a heavy, awkward silence, that was almost as painful as your bleeding wound.

He suddenly sighs deeply, breaking the self-loathing trance you put yourself in.

"Now, now- enough of that. You already apologized once." He mutters nervously, dismissing you with a wave.

"Let's take a look at the damage you did to my handiwork instead, shall we?" He asks in a half joking manner, trying to awkwardly lighten the mood if you could guess- but you don't have the energy to laugh. Instead, you give him a weary glance, followed by a tiny nod of approval.

The slender man dips low to your level, conjuring a mysterious case of what you assume to be medical supplies. He knelt down beside you, and in turn you weakly lift your hand away from your bleeding side.

The man reaches into the bag, and you hear the chilling clink of metal taunting you as he digs through it. You swallow your nerves, trying to ease the fear that was settling in your stomach.

Then, he suddenly stops. You wait for a moment, then wordlessly turn to him with a questioning look.

"Ah- um... I ju-just realized this. I need to-" the man trips over his own words anxiously, his eyes like saucers. From the corner of your eye, you see him trying to gesture at your clothing in a pathetic attempt to tiptoe around the obvious.

You roll your eyes, letting out a giant huff of frustration. Cursing under your breath, you dip into your energy reserves to evoke your powers; elongating your nails into sharp talons. With a few expert swipes, you cut away the weak cloth around your wound. Your body shivers at your skin being exposed to the cold, but you motion him forward to continue.

"Thank you..." the sorcerer mumbles, avoiding your glare of annoyance.

"Just get it done already," you snarled, digging your claws into your palm. You felt beads of sweat trickling down your forehead, and your entire body felt hot and cold at the same time, making you shiver and sweat moreso.

The sorcerer snaps his fingers, and you wince as the darkness of the room evaporates into light. Squeezing your eyes shut tightly, you try to focus on the sorcerer's light touch as he tends to you.

"Good news, your stitches aren't completely ripped! I only need to replace a few, then you'll be as right as rain." His accented voice cuts through the silence, with an oddly excited tone.

"A few... loose stitches caused this?" You raised your voice in anger, mind reeling at how weak your body has become.

"On the surface, maybe- but you... you were in rough condition." The man speaks lowly, as if he was afraid of jinxing you.

"I've lived through much worse than this," you laughed dryly, shaking your head in disbelief.

"I don't doubt it." The sorcerer replies calmly, his demeanor turning somber for a moment.

Feeling his eyes on you, you turn to catch his gaze. You both stare at each other with a complicated look, neither of you knowing how to breach the subject of your circumstances.

Before you open your mouth to change the subject, the man breaks eye contact to grab the suture needle.

You watch tiredly as the man works, silently observing his handiwork. You felt somewhat impressed at the deft hand that made light work of your bleeding gash.

"So... sorcerer and surgeon, huh?" You hummed, trying to talk to distract yourself from the pain.

The man hesitates for a moment, his hand stopping momentarily.

"The latter is a little... generous," he man snickered, his eyes never leaving your wound.

You stare at him silently, waiting for any elaboration. As if on cue, he begins to speak as he continues working.

"My mum taught me to sew because my sister, Cordy, was dreadfully bad at it- she'd sew her hand to her dress before learning a proper running stitch." He says with a sniff, his brows wrinkling in a light frown.

That got you to laugh, but you quickly regret it as you wince in pain. Even still, a small smile twitched on your lips. The sorcerer flashes you an apologetic smile, his eyes quickly scanning you to make sure you were fine.

"Sorry, darling; I'm almost done, I promise." His voice audibly softens, smooth like velvet in your ears. Your heart rate picked up at the sudden pet name, and you feel your cheeks heat up before you can stop it. Something in the way those words were spoken felt like deja vu- like you heard him speak those same exact words before.

Following that feeling of deja vu, you bore into your shoddy memories again to see if you can grasp anything. Suddenly, a word manifests itself on your tongue- like a long forgotten magic spell that popped in your head. In fear you might forget it again, you hurriedly speak aloud.

"Cedric...?" Your voice wavered with uncertainty, small and questioning.

The man's head instantaneously snaps up to meet your eyes, his own caramel brown eyes flickering with recognition and surprise.

"Yes?" Cedric answers automatically, a strain in his voice as he processes what you said.

Your eyes grow wide, and you don't fight the wide smile that blooms on your face in triumph. You can't help but let out a chuckle, your cheeks hurting as your smile grows.

"I remembered... your name is Cedric-!" You said with a giddy hum, eyes shining as you finally felt clear headed for the first time in ages.

Your smile proved to be infectious, as Cedric's face wore an amused smirk of his own. He quickly nodded in affirmation of your decree, his smirk now widening into a full fledged grin.

"It seems you catch on quick- that's good. You'll be back to your full strength in no time."

You stare at the sorcerer as he finishes up the sutures, which he was already tying off with practiced hands.

"Alright- just about done." Cedric nods in satisfaction, rising to his feet. You move to do the same, but your sore muscles protest against it. Your body sways as you try to stand on your feet, and for a second you're afraid you'll fall again.

However, Cedric was ready this time- his hands automatically grasping for your arm to provide himself as an anchor. He feels your body flinch at the sudden contact, and for a moment his breath catches in fear as he stares you down for a reaction.

Likewise, you found yourself drowning in Cedric's wide stare, his honey colored irises full of trepidation. You find yourself unable to look away, even though Cedric's fearful expression was just another reminder of the guilt you carried for your behavior.

"...Thank you." You spoke slowly, clearing your throat as you break away from Cedric's grasp. Draping an arm across your newly stitched side, you finally tear your eyes away from Cedric and back to the bed you woke up in.

"You're.. welcome?" Cedric replies, his brow raised in surprise at the sudden change in your composure. Cedric studies you with a tilt of his head, confused but somewhat relieved that you have seemed to calm down.

"If you'd like, I have more medicine to help with the pain. I'm sure what I gave you before has since worn off." Cedric offers, holding his breath as he waits for your answer.

Your gut instinct is to decline- help is usually never freely given in your case, and this whole situation is an anomaly to you. But yet, you find yourself unsure about an answer- something in the way the sorcerer looked at you as he asked made you pause; like Cedric was silently pleading with you to accept his offer.

"Okay." You nodded towards Cedric in response, and with a flick of his wrist a bottle appeared in his gloved hand.

"Take no more than three drops on your tongue- the effect should kick in within five minutes." Cedric instructs clinically, and you hum in acknowledgement.

"I will warn you- part of what makes this potion so potent is that it's partly a sedative." Cedric goes on, locking eyes with you as he passes the bottle from his palm into your hands.

"You could sleep for a few days straight at the maximum dose- I just wanted you to be aware so it doesn't shock you." Cedric finished gently, taking a step back to glance over you once more.

You nod towards Cedric in thanks, eyeing the bottle carefully in your palm.

"I'll leave the rest to you, then." Cedric mutters in dismissal, bowing his head towards you in parting. Tearing your gaze away from the potion, you silently watch Cedric's back as he exits the room.

You carefully listen to Cedric's fading footsteps, waiting until you are surrounded by silence again to finally let go of the breath you've been holding.

Your eyes settle again on the small bottle the sorcerer gave you. The murky contents of the bottle made you feel uneasy, as did the side effects Cedric warned you about.

Your mind replays everything you had just experienced thus far after waking up- mentally weighing the risks of letting yourself go unconscious again in an unfamiliar land with a strange man you barely remember.

Your eyes shift nervously across the room again, and once again you find yourself fixated on the chair that was angled towards the bed. You suddenly feel a little embarrassed looking at it now, recalling the feeling of dread and paranoia you felt at the idea of someone watching over you.

Now, for some reason, the idea didn't sound so bad anymore. At least, not if that someone was Cedric.

You hand grazes against the fresh stitches Cedric sutured for you, and your heart flutters for a split second. Heat rises to your skin, and you feel your cheeks start to burn. Immediately your hand leaves your side to swipe at your cheeks, as if you could scrub the blush off your skin somehow.

"Ugh, grow up. I have no time for this," You muttered angrily to yourself, propelling your body forwards and into the bed you woke up in. Your side burned wickedly in retaliation at your sudden movement, but you didn't care- you needed to get rid of this weird, restless energy you felt towards the sorcerer.

Popping the seal on the bottle you possessed, you open your mouth and let the dark liquid drip, drip, drip on your tongue.

Three drops, just like Cedric had said.

You entend your arm to place the potion on the nightstand next to the mattress, your body already feeling weighed down by an invisible force. The softness of the silk sheets and the warmth of the blankets felt like anchors keeping your body in place, and you feel your head sink deep into the pillows.

Your eyelids flutter as you fight to keep them open a moment longer- it seems Cedric wasn't exaggerating about the potency of the potion.

Despite your vain efforts, you feel your consciousness slipping through your hands like fine grains of sand. As you blink up at the ceiling one final time, the last thought that flashes through your mind is of silver bangs, a plum colored robe, and tender hands that managed to piece you back together.

#cedric the sensational #cedricthesorceror #cedric x reader #sophia the first #asks #bettathanyou answers

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vaguely-functional-directions · 8 months ago

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I have ranked the songs in Bonnie and Clyde (because of course I did). I am also not including all the short reprises. In reverse order (for dramatic effect):

17. Made in America- I don't actually dislike any of the songs on the soundtrack but something has to get the bottom spot. Not my favourite act 2 opening ever so it is ranked here

16. That’s What You Call a Dream- This one is nice too, but for slower songs I think when they either make me have emotions or is just a really pretty tune, and this one is just not my favourite out of all the other slower songs on the soundtrack. I do like the line about 'Buck is rocking in his chair' implying Blanche and Buck growing old together being Blanche's dream since that is such a contrast to Bonnie's like of 'I don't need to end up in a rocking chair' in her own song about the future.

15. Bonnie- This song is sweet and it is nice and I like their bickering at the beginning of it lmao. And it's so cute how touched bonnie is when she's like 'you wrote a song for me?'. When will someone do something like this for me?

14. God’s Arms Are Always Open- I feel similarly to this one as Made in America but I think the second half of the song with the higher energy gospel (?) vibes is fun as a bigger dance number and I like the intervening clips with clyde throughout lol

13. What Was Good Enough for You- I think this song is really important in showing where bonnie and clyde both started out, and what their futures would have been like if they hadn't set out to do more with their lives.

12. Raise a Little Hell- This one I liked a lot better after having the visual scene for it because while the song is intense, just having the added plot context made it better for me. It's like, you can really tell clyde's desperation and he's at his breaking point and literally just having the visuals for that was so so good.

11. When I Drive- Love the energy and 10/10 will listen to this the next time I drive

10. You’re Goin’ Back to Jail- Love the energy in this as well. ZERO space for deadbeat husbands around here and also it is very catchy and is just a fun song overall

9. Raise a Little Hell (reprise)- I definitely ranked the reprise above the original because of all the tension/high stakes/whatever at this point of the plot which I think made this one have a bigger impact on me. And again, after having the visuals to this song I definitely like it better than I did before with just listening. And also since Buck is in this one too, just something about having both brothers team up to raise some hell, and with Ted's part as well with the exact opposition to clyde and buck?? Very good. Thumbs up from me.

8. You Can Do Better Than Him- This one also makes me feel emotions just with like looking back from what bonnie used to be vs where she is now and like. And the reprise as well once it becomes so clear how inevitable everything is, with one final look at her past self and innocence. IDK, like the reprise is just so haunting to me. I can't explain it

7. This World Will Remember Me- THE MEN IN THIS TOWN LIVE AND DIE AND ARE FORGOTTEN AND IT DOESN'T SEEM TO SCARE THEM I CAN'T WAIT TO GET AWAY

6. Too Late to Turn Back Now- *Such* a vibe. The complete 180 in this for bonnie, and it being the moment where she really is fully understanding how far into this and how irreversible this is now (hence. the name of the song). Also the song itself is just so so good too. Highly listenable.

5. How ‘Bout a Dance- I was tempted to rank this higher because it is a very beautiful song and makes me be like wistful at the thought of being so in love as it sounds in the song. It's just. You can literally hear Bonnie falling for clyde and falling in love and I love I so much. However it is ranked slightly lower because of the misinterpretation my poor innocent mind made the error of assuming this song was about them actually dancing

4. Picture Show- Super super solid opening number and it does such a good job at setting everything up with bonnie and clyde's personalities. And also just the context for everything in general. And also I saw a recorded version from many mny years ago where young bonnie came out on stage while the car with her older self and clyde were still dead inside was still onstage, and then she starts singing about her hopes and dreams while in front of her own dead body after realizing none of those dreams??? That did something to me.

3. Dyin’ Ain’t So Bad- I'D RATHER BREATHE IN LIFE THAN DUSTY AIR. This makes me so emotional and it's such a beautiful song and like. Just imaging being so in love as to feel this way that if you go together it won't be so bad because neither has to miss the other one. Like. Hello???? I'm not crying you're crying

Tie 1. You Love Who You Love- This song makes me experience Emotions. It is such a lovely song/duet and I just. Aaaaaaaaaaaa I love it so so so much. It's so beautiful ❤️❤️❤️ The line 'you love who you love, and you can't help how you're made. You don't have no say, your heart decides, it's that simple I'm afraid' especially stands out to me and is just. :')

Tie. 1. This World Will Remember Us- Just. Everything about it. The beginning with busting clyde out of prison to the end where they make their way to the car and everything is perfect in their lives for that moment. And just the music is so incredible and. I can't even describe it it's just. Perfection.

#bonnie and clyde musical

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dadjokestop · 3 months ago

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Dad Jokes Thanksgiving Edition

Dad Jokes Thanksgiving —a time for family, food, and the inevitable dad jokes that get passed around the dinner table like the mashed potatoes. While we stuff ourselves with turkey and pies, let’s also stuff our hearts with laughter. These Thanksgiving dad jokes are sure to make your relatives groan, roll their eyes, and laugh (maybe against their will). So grab your stretchy pants and prepare for some cheesy, turkey-filled humor! Why Dad Jokes at Thanksgiving? Because what’s better than awkwardly waiting for the turkey to cook or recovering from a food coma? Dad jokes bring everyone together for a chuckle or an eye-roll, and they’re harmless enough that even Grandma won’t mind (too much). Let’s dive into some perfectly corny Thanksgiving dad jokes to make this holiday even more memorable! Joke 1: Why did the turkey cross the road? To prove he wasn’t chicken! But he might’ve been running from the Thanksgiving feast! Joke 2: What’s the best song to play while cooking a turkey? All About That Baste! You know, because it’s all in the baste, ’bout that baste, no trouble! Joke 3: Why don’t turkeys ever tell secrets? Because they’re always gobbling everything up! Loose beak sinks ships—or in this case, dinners! Joke 4: What do you get if you divide the circumference of a pumpkin by its diameter? Pumpkin pi! Perfect for math lovers who also love dessert! Joke 5: Why did the cranberries turn red? Because they saw the turkey dressing! Talk about some juicy gossip in the kitchen! Joke 6: What do you call a running turkey? Fast food! But not fast enough to escape Thanksgiving dinner, unfortunately. Joke 7: What kind of key can’t open doors? A tur-key! But it sure knows how to unlock your appetite! Joke 8: Why was the Thanksgiving soup so expensive? It had 24 carrots in it! Nothing like some golden humor to spice up the meal! Joke 9: Why didn’t the turkey want dessert? Because he was already stuffed! But there’s always room for pie, right? Joke 10: What’s a turkey’s favorite dessert? Peach gobbler! And it’s guaranteed to leave you gobbling for more! Joke 11: Why do pilgrims’ pants always fall down? Because they wear their belt-buckles on their hats! And you thought your Thanksgiving fashion choices were questionable! Joke 12: What’s the best part of Thanksgiving dinner? The nap afterwards! It’s the ultimate food coma tradition! Joke 13: What did the turkey say before it was roasted? “Boy, I’m really getting roasted here!” Don’t worry, turkey, it’s all in good humor (and flavor)! Joke 14: What do you call a turkey after Thanksgiving? Lucky! If it’s still around by Black Friday, that is. Joke 15: Why was the turkey excused from the table? Because he was using fowl language! But can you blame him? He had a rough day! Joke 16: What did the sweet potato say when it won the competition? “I yam the best!” Humble brag from everyone’s favorite side dish! Joke 17: What happens when you eat too much at Thanksgiving? You get autumn-atically sleepy! It’s like the leaves falling, only it’s you on the couch. Joke 18: How do you fix a broken pumpkin pie? With a little pumpkin patch! And some whipped cream, obviously! Joke 19: Why didn’t the cook season the turkey? Because there was already plenty of thyme on their hands! And maybe a little too much rosemary! Joke 20: What’s the official dance of Thanksgiving? The turkey trot! It’s perfect for burning off that extra slice of pie—if you can still move, that is! Joke 21: Why did the mashed potatoes disinvite the gravy to Thanksgiving dinner? Because it was acting too saucy! Sometimes you just need to keep things mashed and mellow! Joke 22: What’s the best way to stuff a turkey? Serve him lots of pizza and ice cream! That’ll keep him full and off the table! Joke 23: What does Thanksgiving have in common with Halloween? You gobble up all the food! Except this time, no costumes required—just stretchy pants! Joke 24: How do you know the turkey loves Thanksgiving?

Because it’s absolutely carving up the spotlight! Though we might all need some carving ourselves afterward! Joke 25: Why was the Thanksgiving table so chatty? Because it was full of sides! And they all had a lot to say about the main course! Joke 26: Why did the pie go to the doctor? It was feeling crusty! A little whipped cream therapy goes a long way! Joke 27: What did the turkey say to the computer? “Google, gobble!” Turns out, even turkeys are looking for last-minute escape plans! Joke 28: Why don’t turkeys play baseball? Because they’re afraid of getting fowl balls! And who can blame them? They’re in enough trouble already! Joke 29: Why do cranberries never get lonely? Because they always come in bunches! Plus, they’re surrounded by turkey and stuffing at the table! Joke 30: How do you know you’re at a good Thanksgiving? When the laughter is as full as your belly! And everyone’s already calling dibs on leftovers! Conclusion: A Feast of Laughter There you have it—a cornucopia of goofy Dad Jokes Thanksgiving to share with your family and friends. Whether you're cracking jokes before the turkey is served or keeping everyone entertained after the meal, these groan-worthy puns are sure to get the whole table laughing. So, give thanks, enjoy the food, and remember—there’s always room for one more dad joke! Happy Thanksgiving!

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the-good-projxct · 6 months ago

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May 29th, 2024

11:28 pm. I am listening to long distance by Brandy. Okaaayy. She got pipes, bars and character. I Love Brandy from Moesha days till now. This song though, it has always gotten me in my feels. I walked home today from a hair appointment and this was the song playing. I felt it in my soul. The last few years being far from Munene were wild. But also, I learned and experienced so much. I had breakfast, was out the door and on a bike by 11.30 this morning. Off to get a retie. Everytime I get a retie I miss Mommy Dorcas. I am so grateful to the Universe that I got a big sister in her. She really means so much to me. She is a friend, a confidante, my hype-man, my loctician, and fellow swahili speaking East African in PEI. It took only 3 hrs to do my hair then I walked into a little market and found a plain white ralph lauren shirt. I need a white shirt for an outfit I am wearing to a wedding next friday. I am excited to be going to my first wedding since I’ve been back. I used to be the talk of the town when I was an addict. Now I am the talk of the town because I am sober and marrying into the culture. LMAO, my main gossipers are still my main gossipers but at least now it is Gøod tings they spreading ‘bout me. Sometimes I feel like I came back from the dead. I can see people observing me like who am I? How did I do it? Bruh. It truly feels like I reincarnated into a higher being while in this same life. Isn’t that mad? Like I didn’t need to die to Phoenix. I rose out of the ashes and I am vibrating on a higher plane. I am in my Gøod era. Like Life is Gøod. So, if/when I was in Canada, violence, genocide, hate crimes happening to Black and Brown bodies used to take this big toll on me. When I am here, it still bothers me. It still angers me. But it doesn’t consume or drown me. The wildest part is Kenya is like 5 seconds, steps away from war zones. To the north, the east and the west. The icing on the cake is that Kenya has goofy ass leadership that aligns with whiteness which puts us at risk of retaliatory violence. Despite all this, Life is Gøod. Maybe in some wild way, I am grateful and aware of this little life of mine because I am surrounded by violence on all fronts. Like being close to it, makes me enjoy the sun more. Because, it likely won’t be like this forever. The rate the world is going, I feel like there will be a generation that will not know peace. We will be telling them stories of a time when we felt safe, happy to be out in nature, out in the world. And that breaks my heart. It also makes me make the best out of my environment. I want to soak in the smell of rain. I want to dance in the sun's rays. I want to sit with elders under trees. I want to swim in the ocean. So that when we cannot, I will have lived memory deep in my genome to pass onto my future Ancestors. I will dance now so my children’s children know the sound of music in their bones. I will Live/Love. I will feel alive. I will BE. This deep sense of being alive, experiencing, being, Living/Loving comes from this deep knowing of what is to come. If the worst comes, I want to be ready. My readiness will be in the joy, the magik, the soul, the essence of being alive, having lived. They don’t call me Aunty Henjoyment for nothing. I will enjoy this little life of mine. Bc many that look like me are denied this privilege. I will scream Free Congo, Free Palestine, Free Sudan, Freedom!! into the sun rays beaming on my melanated skin. If that is how/when I die then how magikal innit. God is Gøod. Ase. Ase.

#may 2024

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ka-ro-mi · 8 months ago

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“...and just like Chet,”

Longing Wish’s Task 1 �� May 1, 2024.

⠀

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀It was early April when I stumbled upon this young lad, standing tall at six feet with eyes that mirrored Bambi’s enchanting innocence. At first, we merely exchanged pleasantries as acquaintances. Then, on the occasion of my birthday, April 11 to be exact, he surprised me with a meticulously crafted bouquet of flowers, as if he had plucked them from the Garden of Eden itself. Maybe it was just a gesture of politeness, especially considering I held the seniority card. But oh, the way he held my gaze as he handed me those blooms, it was as if he was unraveling a secret, igniting a spark that had lain dormant within me. I think, How did he suddenly become so seen?

⠀

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀As the days swiftly unfurled into mid-April, I found myself ensnared by the unseen threads of the universe’s enchanting blueprints. Was it the very spell I had whispered into the night, imagining the intoxicating emotions this young lad could evoke within me?

“In a perfect world,

I wouldn't have met you at all.

In a perfect world,

I would've said “Hi!” and moved on.

Unfortunately,

I don’t know anything ‘bout love and its foolish tendencies.

And just like Chet, I tend to fall in love too easily.”

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ Yes, and just like Chet, I tend to surrender to the beguiling charms of love, losing myself in its tortuous dance of passion and longing, too easily. However, I ain’t one to shy away from heartaches. There might be a flicker of pain, a whisper of ache, but darling, it’s all part of the dance. Yet amidst it all, my heart sings with joy, enraptured by the mesmerizing conception of love’s unfolding tale.

⠀

And he’s the young lad who tosses this tune into the mix when I was brainstorming this writing.

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shawnjacksonsbs · 9 months ago

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"Far be it from me, and forgive me for asking, and I don't mean to pry, but would you consider yourself a happy person?" 4-13-24

"How many of us, I wonder, can recall a childhood moment when we experienced happiness as a state of being? That single moment of untarnished joy. That moment when everything in our world, inside and out, was all right. Everything was all right. But, now, we've become a colony of adults and everything is all wrong, all the time. It's as if we're on a quest to get it back and yet the more we focus on our own personal happiness, the more it eludes us. In fact, it's only when we are otherwise engaged, you know, focused, absorbed, inspired, communicating, discovering, learning, dancing, for heaven's sake, that we experience happiness as a by-product, a side-effect. Oh no. We should concern ourselves not so much with the pursuit of happiness, but, with the happiness of pursuit." - Professor Coreman from Hector and the Search for Happiness

I watched.

I watched Hector expecting, eh. . .

but he ended up finding his silver (-ish).

I learned, what most probably already know, most of us don't have the money or the means to go all- eat, pray, love in the search for happiness.

We have to try and find it here, in our . . .stuckness, which is inherently part of the problem in itself.

A little traveling and moving can work wonders on those of us who needed a journey of discovery to find our truth.

I am one of the fortunate ones in that respect. I think I'm somewhere between the poor inner urban kid/poor white trash kid from the country - and that eat, pray, love shit. Lol no lol

~some notes, not edited:

Writing all the time letting you all know how I found it.

May not even work for some of you.

Do you even know what makes you happy?

And are you a happy person?

~more, unedited:

Happiness, just like the rest of my emotional states are . . .varying and in bouts, with peace and joy at the pulpit.

~even more:

Happiness as a state of being probably hasn't existed inside of me since before the fear of knowing "life's not forever" really took hold of me.

Early childhood, probably. It's been bouts ever since.

What is happiness?

Are you happy?

Ask me as a question looking back on a limited amount of my time, and my answer will be yes . . .now.

That wasn't always so.

In the now, it may or may not be, but inevitably, it's always on a rising curve, for grading purposes. At least it has been for about the last 10 years or so. Lol no lol

Ever changing, ever learning, ever growing, and of course, ever grateful.

Almost, always, like as almost to always as you can get without being actual always, I am at peace.

It feels so . . .always most of the time.

Its close enough to constant for me to say, always.

~end of notes.

Hector and the Search for Happiness did play me. I shouldn't have prejudged. I hoped it would be good and it surpassed that. I really liked it.

Instead of one final quote at the end, I'm going to share Hector's list from his journey. If you get a chance go watch the movie. Let me know whatcha think.

Remember to share your love and your laughter with all the rest of us.

And please be kind as always as possible. Civility is only the back up plan. Lol

Until next time;

"1. Making comparisons can spoil your happiness.

2. A lot of people think happiness means being richer or more important.

3. Many people only see happiness in their future.

4. Happiness could be the freedom to love more than one woman at the same time.

5. Sometimes happiness is not knowing the whole story.

6. Avoiding unhappiness is not the road to happiness.

7. Does this person bring you predominantly a. up b. down?

8. Happiness is answering your calling.

9. Happiness is being loved for who you are.

10. Sweet Potato Stew!

11. Fear is an impediment to happiness.

12. Happiness is feeling completely alive.

13. Happiness is knowing how to celebrate.

14. Listening is loving.

15. Nostalgia is not what it used to be." - Hector

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demotastic · 10 months ago

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Haiku Collection

Autumn leaves rustle. Warm colours paint the fresh snow. Orange, white and blood.

Final breaths shallow. It's grave even shallower. Beautiful roadkill.

Watery black beads. I tried to ask: how and why? It just stared at me.

When the last snow melts It wets my lips, baths the plants. warm spring, blanket me.

For now it's still cold. I cling onto mismatched gloves. I'll find each pair soon.

I do not fear death. I fear for those who love me. Will they see their sun?

Hear that? It is spring! Winter's claim now rots away. a warm bed for growth.

This body is mine. Calm and steady in the mulch. This corpse is now yours.

Plant flowers in me. So I'd give you allergies. We'll be sick together.

Radiant summer sun. Even behind my eyelids, you shine so brightly.

Your brilliant warmth, it baths and cleanses my heart. flooded with pure joy.

Even when it rains. Your glow lights the morning sky. Part into rainbows.

Sweltering summer. I never hid in the shade. Bare myself to you.

I thirst for a drink. Will you let me have a sip? Do I have to bite?

Might rip out your throat. Might paint the tiles like Pollock, roll around in it.

Like moss to a stone. Like parasite ferns cling to trees. Like my hand on you.

Let me be your last. I know your pain, how it stings. Let me stitch those wounds.

Death do us apart. It can try, I'll never budge. Locked between your legs.

The air is so still. it is not cold, nor is it hot. painfully absent.

The thunder-less storm. Blots out the moon and stars. A featureless void.

A hand on my chest. I tell myself it is okay. No need for sorries.

Block from the birch tree. You carved a puppet of me. Pull my strings gently.

When you give me moans. Want to flay to the bone. Stitch you to my tomb

How you say my name. Enough to take me as claim. Now for you to tame.

Dance, the snow it dances. Twirling, spinning, refracting. A billion colours.

It is beautiful. But I want only this one. The colour of you.

I want to paint you. My wife would look cute in you. This colour, so rare.

Bite the hand that feeds? No, you're just used to the fist. That beats, batters, breaks.

I open my palm. I know you've bite my arm. but what's another.

Hate the iron taste. My white knuckles blistering. Your pain, I hate it.

The dead of winter. black, gnarled fingers reach up high. reaching for heaven.

but there is nothing. just cold bitter winter air. breaking off branches.

bury all the twigs. but I cannot be that cold. you deserve some warmth.

You said such nice things. Those sweet words flooded my chest. stuck like spring pollen.

I felt dirty and cheap. My lungs tried to eject it. my heart rejects it.

It is wasted here. It felt nice while it lasted, but I spat it out.

Just for you I would. Would wear it around my knees, This dirty rag.

I'd let you stand there, Let you let me bleed out. Beautiful roadkill

Infect every vein. Fuck you with my disease. Fill you with ichor.

He is winter skies My eyes dry out when he sighs For I stare, no blinks.

Winter, hope he stays. My excuse to hug my wife. Keep her warm, love filled.

She is spring, it's clear. Sometimes I yearn the cold nip. but it bleeds my lips.

White petals stained red. Her beauty coloured and flush. A shy pink of fear.

Is it so greedy To have two favourite seasons Have one for each hand.

Each snowflake unique. My lungs warm with her pollen. Tongue glued to his frost.

Love, it comes and goes. Love, you make it in your bed. Love, never enough.

Hate, gun 'bout to blow. Hate, it lingers in your head. Hate, never runs out.

They both blush your face. They both tie your heart in knots. But one always wins.

That was my problem, I held on to it too tight. In return? Frost bite.

I could be evil. Be the prophecy you spoke. Cut it off, Bleeding.

I still have my spring. A boiling, beating heart, loved. And six more fingers.

What will you become? While I have my peace to heal. You? Alone, crying.

You will be rotting. Left there where I first found you. Broken and rotten.

I though it was done. Here I stand a tired fool. broken by a call.

a call in the white. Left hand glued to the phone booth. Will my right hand bleed?

Crushed red spring petals. Smelled like love, they smelled like home. but will there be space?

Yeah, it's 2am. Got a pocket load of friends. and I feel again

2am again. I'll never feel alone. with friends in my phone.

After all these weeks. Never I've felt such a peak. 2am again.

#haiku #poetry

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thraveenperera · 1 year ago

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First Person Shooter - Drake feat J. Cole

He morphs from a wolf into himself. The album is For All The Dogs but he's a wolf. While every Drake fan is trying to be "One of the Dogs", Drake is The Wolf ahahahahahaha. You think you're Top Dog? Well Drake is the Top Wolf. ahahahahaha. A little corny for me but good for Drake. This was totally influenced by the Black or White music video, one of the best music videos of all time. Please do yourself a service and spend 10 minutes out of your day watching that video because Drake is definitely inspired by Michael Jackson here. Black Panthers or Wolves? Tough choice.

What a cool video concept though. At the time of the song's release or whenever it was written, Drake was only 1 No. 1 song on the Hot 100 away from surpassing Michael Jackson who holds 13 No. 1 songs on the Hot 100. After the release of his highly anticipated new album, For All the Dogs, this song went on to chart at #1 on the Billboard Hot 100. This now ties Michael Jackson's record of 13. In the final verse of the song, Drake ends his verse with...

N****s talkin' 'bout when this gon' be repeated What the fuck, bro? I'm one away from Michael N*****, beat it, n****, beat it, what?

"When this gon be repeated"

Drake asks when this could be repeated but he really means to tell us that it likely won't... or at least not for a long time. Let's look at the artists with the most No. 1 songs on the Billboard Hot 100.

The Beatles (20)

Mariah Carey (19)

Rihanna (14)

Michael Jackson (13)

Drake (13)

Madonna (12)

The Supremes (12)

Whitney Houston (11)

Taylor Swift (11)

Janet Jackson (10)

I could've proven my point with the top 5 but 10 makes it better actually, notice anything? Drake is the only rapper on this list. "When this gon be repeated?" if he means by another rapper, then yeah, probably not for a long time... or ever again.

The giant Drake statue..... another reference to Michael Jackson, more specifically Jackson's HIStory album teaser video and cover.

As he delivers those last 3 bars, he adds one of Jackson's signature dance moves while showing off a Swarovski crystals glove and to add salt to the wound, he references one of Jackson's best charting/performing songs, "Beat It".

I don't even care this much, I just like the referencing. How long until people are gonna start to compare the two or even claim that Drake is this generation's Michael Jackson? WRONGO! I've seen people online mention the dance and statue as references to Jackson but nothing I've seen talked about the morph. The coolest part! #HeardItHereFirst

I also wouldn't be surprised if Drake ended up buying or sponsoring the Scotiabank Arena (Air Canada Centre) and actually naming it "October's Very Own Arena", I guess we'll see.

#first person shooter #for all the dogs #drake #michael jackson #billboard hot 100

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journals4546 · 2 years ago

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11/24/08

Here is the truth, what I do not write in my journal. My journal is honest also, but a separate honesty, one I would allow Ryan to be a part of. The truth in this side journal is for myself only, what I would not allow him to know.

The truth is, I have slept with four guys since Ryan & I broke up, in the six months since I have moved back to Iowa. JLove, a few days after the fourth of July, a disappointing dance brought on by the intoxication of a simple night, the kind you’d remember in the latter of your life as just… perfect. The night at Big Creek, with JLove, Racha, Meanz, Krystal, Brandon, & others, boating, midnight skinny dipping in a secluded cove, live music, an ecstasy achieved not by libation but by the simple perfection of the night. Conclusion coming with naked cuddling with JLove in his bed, which turned into sex not out of attraction but a certain loneliness, missing Ryan, my eyes clamped shut & seeing his face, imagining it was he who was pounding into my body, though Ryan was never as awkward as JLove. With Ryan our bodies moved to the same rhythm, one I can’t seem to find with any else. No orgasm on my end, no reaching the height of pleasure. Forgettable.

Then Jon Leopold, one boring, drunken night in Ames. A way to pass the time. Nothing worth remembering but the regret. Maybe only done to see what it would be like to have bedded one of the most popular guys in my school, a reason too embarrassing to admit to anyone. Leopold is the stereotype of all high school jocks - cocky & popular, with a future of drowning out his ten bastard children & job at the gas station with the beer that gives him his spare tire around his waist, looking fondly back on when girls used to giggle to be pinched on the ass by him. I think Bitchtoria put it best when the next day she asked me, “So how disappointed were you?” A night I’d sooner erase from my memory. Funny how attractiveness in youth causes cockiness, in middle-age brings an inflated sense of entitlement, & in old age begets gratefulness.

The third, my own private secret only Racha knows, a half-asleep nocturnal two-night bout with Nich. “I don’t want things to get weird.” “Trust me, that’s not something you need to worry about.” Neither time did he seem to enjoy it (though he instigated it), & it was only a form of stress release for myself. An end to our late-night cuddling parties, as apparently he did let it get weird. Not a bad way to spend two nights, but not worth how disconnected he’s seemed since, like he was afraid to be alone with me, as if he’d feel obligated. I don’t understand; after the second tryst I had no further interest in having sex with him, & I’d never behaved any differently than I usually did, I’d even stopped flirting with him. But ever since, our relationship has altered from the great state it once was in, & this saddens me.

The final, & by far most gratifying, satisfying person ironically, was just a boy, eighteen years of age, still holding onto that innocent sweetness that I’m sure will begin to dissipate in about a year or two, when the hardness of the world begins to slowly retard his zest for life. He is the new roommate of the friends in the apartment above mine: tall, muscular, swooped white-blonde hair. He is almost translucent, he reminds me of the yellow-haired boy in the film “Elephant.” A bourgeoning hippie with a taste for metal music & hockey, a very boyish masculinity, smokes pot & drinks rum straight. I met him for a moment in my living room the same night I went to the bar with Fake Plastic Dave, & then again two nights ago in James & Dylan’s apartment. We flirted, he loved my dimples & I could tell he had found an idol in Nich. He & I were up long after the rest had left, playing my SuperNintendo, he was thrilled & amazed that I still had one.

Then yesterday at work I texted Dylan, “So… I know it’s very eighth-grade of me to ask you, but… What’s up with your friend?” Dylan gave me his number. I messaged him “Are you at the apartment, because I want to play some Mario!” Awhile later when I’d gotten off of work, he messaged me back, “Who wants to play? I’ll race you to the room!” I laughed, told him I had to get dressed first. He told me no way, we’ll play naked! Too late, I responded.

In the midst of a movie, with James asleep on the couch & Dylan in bed, Blond & I were on the other couch, bundled up in blankets. Too shy to be bold, I began texting him on the phone, being flirtatious & coy. I was definitely rusty, not having had to flex those muscles since Ry & I first met. It seemed he also had just gotten out of a relationship recently & was not looking for it again. I told him I was in a similar state, & only looking for non-awkward fun. He jokingly asked if I wanted to do the “triple-B-D” (Racha-speak for “boom boom banana dance,” or sex) & I responded “Are you really asking me that through text?” Later, after a short silence, I asked him, “Wanna cuddle up?” & he responded with a smart-ass “Are you really asking me that though text?” I laughed, told him aloud I was shy, & he said “Well come on over here!” So I did.

We eventually went down to my apartment, got in my bed to “watch a movie.” He took his shirt off at one point, & I was breathless at the beauty of his body, in its prime, a small amount of chest hair as blond as the hair on his head, & a darker patch of hair beginning around & below his navel. Flat stomach, not deathly skinny as JLove but not chubby, muscular but soft. Absolutely beautiful. Ryan’s body is warm, comforting; I take comfort over beauty any day, I’m always intimidated by beauty, as much as I enjoy it. His beautiful body was in stark contrast to my own scarred & misshapen battlefield, tangible proof of experiences he probably couldn’t fathom yet in his innocence. No matter how old I get, I will always lose my breath at the visage of a perfect eighteen-year old male body, its ripples, muscles, flanks, hair, hips, forearms, collar bone. I could lay down in worship of a beautiful form like Blond’s, I’d never seen quite as flawless a specimen, the build that results from years of hockey, working summers in construction, & a diet of pot, rum, cigarettes & fast food.

After a bout of more flirting & coy teasing, he suddenly turned over & began kissing me, hard, quick, barely stopping to breathe, his hands running all over my body, lightly, then adding more pressure. He was somewhat shy until this moment, quiet unless spoken to. Here, he seemed more in control, confident. His lip ring pressed into my bottom lip & I immediately thought of Ryan.

I believe my favorite, most addictive sensation is that of right before the point of entry, that flushed, tingling, rushed anticipation. I like to draw it out, suspended in ecstasy, eager endorphins rushing to my head, making the wetness between my legs flow thick as honey. The previous three men failed to allow me even a moment of that enjoyment. With Blond it seemed to last for twenty minutes, when in reality it was probably no more than two or three. He moved at a leisurely pace, as if we had all the time in the world; he took his time exploring my ragged body, leaving a trail like electricity everywhere his fingertips traveled. A young boy, eagerly pawing a new toy. There seemed to be an unexpected grace in everything he did, like it was all one fluid motion. And then, entry, the feeling of fullness, a sense that my body was no longer my own, not in my control, every slight move a source of pleasure. The feel of strong muscled arms holding up my writhing body, rigid until orgasm, then limp, weakened until the sensation had passed & the energy returned in search of the next heart-shaking explosion, eruption. His body convulsed, shook in a rapid succession that sent jolts of pleasure through my insides, when I rode atop him & he was thrust as deeply as possible inside of me.

Still entranced by his beauty, I did not mind bowing my head to him, taking him into my mouth, as I do with others. Even his penis was beautiful, large, throbbing, tasted only of skin, not sour as others can be. He & Ryan are the only two experiences where I felt enjoyment in that act, which for myself seems so much more intimate even than copulation, more personal. I wonder if it was only his beauty that made it pleasurable for me, a joy & not a burden, when I would never otherwise perform this task for someone I had only met twice before, or was it some other reason I’m consciously unaware of. Something about him reminds me of the relationship I had with the Asshole, before its terrible demise.

After the act & its conclusion, we were relaxed, tired, comfortable with each other. Jokes were made about the parallel between his former hockey career & the hat trick he performed that night.

After he left, I collapsed, satisfied, exhausted, into my pillows now caked in sweat, & slept hard through the night, better than I have in months.

A text to Racha before I closed my eyes, “SO. WORTH. IT.”

Then I woke this morning in a great mood, a smile on my face, a bounce in my step. I played hooky from work for a few hours, I needed the rest. Not much could ruin this good mood for me, not even Nich laughingly telling me he’d read the texts I’d sent & received. Embarrassment didn’t redden my cheeks, I’m sure I practically glowed from the previous night. It was exactly what I’d needed, a night of good sex with a beautiful body, after these cold months of loneliness.

I haven’t seen him yet, gone upstairs, or ran into him in the halls of our apartment building. I’m not horribly rushed to see him, this is the part I hate. We made a deal not to let it get awkward, but I have no idea whether he’ll keep to it or not. And although I would not mind repeating the experience, I’m not sure if he’d be interested. Also, being the young, unassertive guy he is, I’m not sure he’d even tell me if he was interested. I don’t have much faith that he & I will share a similar relationship as I did with the Asshole, as easy & carefree, able to just call each other up & put out the invitation.

Yet, were we to achieve this level, what would happen if or when Ryan were to actually make good on his promise of a visit? Would Blond get weird? Would Ry catch on?

No; Ryan will never know about this, there is no reason for him to know. We are not together (his choice, not mine), & I’m certain that if he were to do something with someone (if he hasn’t already), he would never tell me.

Blond had wanted to discourage me against a relationship with himself; I felt like telling him, “dearest, there is but one boy with whom I would ever have a relationship, & not even you with your beautiful body are within lightyears of measuring up to him.”

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rulesofthebeneath · 6 years ago

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how bout a dance: part 11

<AN> WELL HELLO THERE FRIENDS!!! Guess what week it is? IT’S SHOW WEEK(S)! Hope y’all enjoy this chapter, it’s long (as hell) but I had a ton of fun writing it. Gonna warn again for some suggestive content but we’re still firmly in the TV sitcom realm. [But I do think it’s entirely fair to mention that almost the entire beginning, as short as it may be, is a big sex mention, but that it’s a side plot development]. Anyways, credit as usual to @euphonyinestetica, tagging @pixelburied, @lilmissperfectlyimperfect, @ajaysbhandari, @itsbrindleybinch, @witchiegirl, @aidenzhous, @catlady0911, @ylevolenahs, @awkwardalbatros, @hufflepvnk, @ravenclawpokegirl25. Hope y’all enjoy, let me know if I need to edit the warnings. </AN>

The morning of opening night, Grace woke up to the smell of pancakes and the sound of laughter coming from the kitchen. Isra was nowhere to be found, which was strange because Grace almost always woke up with the cat asleep on her chest. She put on her contacts and tried to tame her bedhead, shoved her feet in some slippers, and slowly opened her bedroom door to step into the kitchen.

“Good morning, Grace!” came Mayleen’s chipper voice from the stove, where she stood in a long t-shirt making the pancakes Grace had smelled. Unable to locate the source of the laughing, Grace stepped into the kitchen suspiciously.

“Hey, Grace,” came another voice, and Grace whipped around to see Rosa sitting at the kitchen table, also in just a long t-shirt, her face completely red but a smile playing on her lips.

It took Grace a second to figure out what was going on, but then she realized.

“Oh my god!” she squealed, clapping a hand over her mouth. “I must be a really heavy sleeper.”

Rosa’s face got impossibly redder, but Mayleen just laughed. “You were pretty exhausted after your shift Sunday. I was a little surprised, but it was convenient.”

Grace let out another surprised laugh, then sat down at the table next to Rosa, who had Isra in her lap.

“You stole my roommate and my cat,” she grumbled playfully to Rosa, reaching over to rub Isra’s gray ears.

“Lo siento,” Rosa muttered. Grace turned back to Mayleen, still at the stove.

“Wow, so uh, guys, how did this happen?”

“Well, when a woman and another woman like each other very very much…” Mayleen started in a teasing tone, but was cut off by Grace and Rosa both yelling at her, the former throwing a balled-up napkin that Mayleen barely dodged.

“You know that’s not what I meant! I don’t need to know about that! Tell me about your date!”

“Well, we went out dancing last night. I thought I’d try to help Rosa de-stress after final dress, because I get how tough tech and dress weeks can be. We went out for dinner, then we went to a club not too far away from your theater, then we came here.”

“Where you and Rosa de-stressed,” Grace deadpanned, sending Rosa into a fit of embarrassed giggles.

“Exactly. Several times,” Mayleen quipped shamelessly.

“God,” Grace snorted. “Well, I’m glad to see you guys together.”

“We’re glad to be together,” Rosa mumbled, flustered. Mayleen turned around with a smile and walked over to kiss her. Grace rolled her eyes jokingly.

“Yeah, we had a good time last night so I think we’re just gonna see how this goes,” Mayleen said, pulling away from Rosa and moving to stand behind her, wrapping her arms around her from behind. “But I have a really good feeling about it.”

Rosa turned to look up at Mayleen with soft eyes, and Grace gave them a second before she obnoxiously cooed at them. Then she got up to turn on the tea kettle on the other side of the room to give them a little privacy and pulled her phone out of the waistband of her pajama pants. There was a new text from Ajay.

Ajay: You ready for opening night?

She thought for a second before texting him back.

Grace: yes? maybe? i’m a little nervous

Ajay: I get that. But you’re going to be amazing.

Grace: i bet you say that to all the people who star in your productions

Ajay: You got me there. It doesn’t mean it’s any less true.

Grace laughed a little, then tucked her phone back into her waistband. The water was done boiling, so she dumped some loose jasmine black tea into the infuser in her teapot and poured the water in, setting a timer for five minutes to let it steep. Her phone buzzed insistently at her hip, so she wiped her hands off and pulled it back out.

Ajay: It might go without saying, but I’m really looking forward to seeing you today.

Ajay: This evening.

Ajay: At 6.

Ajay: Which is call time.

Grace: i know when call is

Grace: if you were trying to be cute it didn’t work 😂

Ajay: Just making sure.

Grace: i’ll be there. and hey, try not to melt into a puddle of stress today

Ajay: Anything for you. See you tonight.

Grace stopped by the fridge to take a bowl of fruit and grabbed her teapot to take back to her room. Rosa and Mayleen were still being disgustingly cute and Grace didn’t want to interrupt. Once in her room, she poured herself a mug of tea and sat on her bed with her script, running through places that had been trouble spots during final dress. Thankfully there weren’t many, but Grace knew she couldn’t be too careful.

The morning faded into afternoon all too quickly, and after a shower, lunch courtesy of a microwave meal, some quick physical and vocal warm-ups and another anxious look at her script, it was 5pm. She knew she had to leave in about ten minutes in order to get to the theatre early (and early was on time), so she pulled on her socks, grabbed her theatre bag that was still packed from final dress, and walked out into the kitchen.

Mayleen and Rosa sprang apart from where they’d been on the couch. Grace just rolled her eyes with a smile. She crossed over to the kitchen to fill her water bottle.

“It’s almost time to go, Rosa,” she called in the direction of the couch. Rosa made her way back to Mayleen’s room (probably where she’d kept her stuff) and Grace dropped down onto the couch next to Mayleen.

“So,” Grace said, grinning widely.

“So.” Mayleen answered, matching her grin.

Grace shook her head slightly. “I’ve never seen you this smiley. It’s weird.”

Mayleen gave a noncommittal shrug, and Grace laughed.

“Oh, I’m coming to see your show next Friday,” Mayleen announced, clearly wanting to change the topic.

“Wow, okay! Stay after and Rosa and I’ll introduce you to everyone.”

“Awesome.”

The two chatted for a little longer before Rosa reemerged with her bag. Grace stood up and the pair put their shoes on at the door and Grace waited patiently outside while Rosa kissed Mayleen goodbye, then they walked down the street to the subway station together.

They rode for a few minutes in silence, then Rosa spoke up.

“You still sure that’s not weird?”

Grace giggled. “Yeah. But I would’ve appreciated a warning. I guess I’m just lucky Mayleen and I don’t share a wall.”

Rosa rolled her eyes, but Grace saw a genuine happiness in her expression.

“I’ve never seen Mayleen so cheerful in the mornings,” Grace said. “I’m really happy for you guys.”

Rosa ducked her head. “Thanks. If I’m being honest, I was only there for Isra.” Grace laughed.

The train ride and short walk to the theatre passed quickly, and the two walked through the stage door fifteen minutes early. They ran into Ajay just inside.

Grace gave him a teasing wink and tried to walk past, but he grabbed her hand and pulled her back towards him. Rosa kept walking, and Grace knew that she’d hear about it later. Nevertheless, she let Ajay pull her back.

“You need something?” she asked, eyebrows raised. He slowly backed her up against the wall and pressed his lips to her collarbone, her neck, her jaw, careful not to leave marks, then pulled away with an intense look on his face.

“Yeah. You.”

Grace’s heart jumped into her throat, and she pulled him forward to crash their lips together. His hands came up to her hips and he pushed her back harder against the wall. She ran a hand through his hair.

When he pulled away again, her lips stung from the pressure. Something akin to joy sparkled in his eyes, and he pulled her in one more time for a kiss that was softer, shorter, sweeter. He ran his fingers through her hair, making shivers run down her spine.

“God,” was all Grace could say, completely breathless. “That all you got?”

He scoffed. “Hardly. But you need to get in costume. We’ll meet in the music room at quarter til to warm-up and for a pep talk. Oh, and Grace?”

His eyes swept over her. She shivered again, but met his gaze. He reached over to tuck a piece of hair behind her ear. She barely noticed it, but he blushed just a little bit.

“There’s a lot more where that came from.”

He grinned at her—a bright, brilliant thing—then spun on his heel and left.

Grace took a moment to gather herself, to slow the desire that curled low in her stomach, to remember how to breathe again. He had her intoxicated by his presence, dizzying her with his touch until the only thing left in her head was a deep need for more.

He’d certainly come a long way from the awkward boy he was in high school.

She shook her head and tucked that away for later. She knew she needed to focus. Still, even though her mind stayed focused on the trouble spots she’d gone over that morning, her hand drifted up to stroke the places he’d kissed her, her thumb absently tracing her swollen lips.

She quickly got changed into the dress she wore at the top of Act One, an exact copy of the iconic burgundy dress but riddled with gunshots and bloodstains. One of the makeup artists came in to help her apply some blood streaks (made out of tape for easy removal) to her face. Grace took a little while to braid her hair flat against her head and to put her wig and hat on, then she was ready to go.

On her way down to the music room she stopped by Rosa’s dressing room. She shared it with the woman who played the governor, but she was finishing up her makeup when Grace arrived and vacated fairly quickly. Grace took her seat next to Rosa, who was intently lining her lips.

“You feeling ready?” Grace asked, nerves coursing through her veins. Rosa took a second to finish her makeup and consider the question.

“Yes,” she said decisively. “Everyone’s worked so hard and we’ve had a ton of fun. I think this is going to go really well.”

“Optimism. I like it.”

“I try. How about you? Feeling ready?”

“Mmm,” Grace hummed noncommittally. “I guess I kind of have to be.”

“Yeah, a little bit. But you don’t have anything to worry about. I’ve seen how hard you’ve worked on this show. You’re absolutely the right person to be the lead, and I’m completely sure that you’ll be amazing.”

“Aw, Rosa!” Grace quickly flung her arms around Rosa, trying not to tear up and ruin her makeup. “You always know exactly what to say.”

Rosa simply shrugged. “Anyone here would say the same.”

“Still. It means so much. I think… ugh,” Grace trailed off as she turned her face up towards the ceiling, trying desperately not to let tears run down her cheeks. “I think I’m breaking out of this funk that I’ve been in for half a year. Like, I heard your compliment and I didn’t automatically think that you were just lying because we’re friends. I don’t automatically declare myself a failure anymore when I mess up little things.”

“That’s great, Grace! I’m really proud of all the progress you’ve made. You’re a ton more confident than when we first met.”

“It’s mostly because of you, yknow,” Grace said, reaching over to squeeze Rosa’s hand. Rosa just shook her head.

“No, it was all you. But I’m glad that I could help.” Rosa handed Grace a stack of tissues and Grace carefully blotted at the corners of her eyes with them. When she finished, Grace moved to pull Rosa into a tight hug.

Once they separated, Grace’s eyes found the clock. It was almost 6:45.

“We should go soon. Ajay said to be in the music room at quarter til.”

“Oh, is that what he said?” Rosa asked, her face neutral but her voice light and teasing. Grace blushed and smacked Rosa lightly on the arm.

“Yes! Now let’s go.” Grace pulled Rosa from the dressing room.

“Ay dios mio! Let me put my shoes on!”

“Hurry up!”

After some friendly bickering and speed-walking to the music room, they were among the first to arrive. Rosa huffed indignantly at Grace, then went over to check her makeup in the mirrors that covered the walls. Grace looked around the room and settled down next to Kevin. She offered a hand for a high five.

“Ready to be a 1930s power couple?” he asked.

“Yup. ‘Two livin’ legends’,” she quoted with a smile.

He chuckled, then his face turned serious. “Nervous?”

“Yeah. I think I will be until we’re onstage.”

“Really?” Kevin asked. “I didn’t think you got nervous.”

“What? Why not?”

“I dunno. You always seem so calm onstage.”

“It’s an act. It’s all an act,” Grace laughed. Kevin looked relieved, and Grace set a hand on his shoulder. “We’re gonna be awesome.”

At that moment, Ajay entered, followed by Emily. He sent a stunning grin Grace’s way—she remembered with all too much clarity how that grin had felt against her lips—then turned to address the room at large. He spun a chair around and sat backwards on it, facing the collection of actors.

“Alright,” he started with a big smile, “you guys have worked so hard on this production, and I’m so incredibly proud of all of you. All I’m gonna ask of you guys is to keep that passion up for the entire run. Don’t let me down now.”

The cast laughed.

“I’m going to be watching from the audience tonight. We’ll meet here right after the show every night for notes, and I’ll also email them out.” He paused to check his watch. “Alright, curtain in ten. Go make me proud.”

With that he and Emily left, and the cast slowly got up from their seats. Grace’s stomach started to churn and a burning sensation ran up her throat into her chest. Her hands started to shake, and her leg started to bounce. She got up quickly and made her way backstage, where she paced behind the curtain until she nearly ran into Kaylie who was doing the exact same thing, her face white as a sheet.

Grace stopped her and reached around to adjust a bow on Kaylie costume.

“Hey, you okay?”

Kaylie swallowed. “I’m fine,” she said unconvincingly.

Grace grimaced sympathetically. “I’m nervous too. This waiting around part kind of sucks.”

A small smile reached Kaylie’s face. “Yeah, it really does.”

“Can I give you a hug?” Grace asked. When the girl nodded, Grace wrapped her arms tightly around her.

“You’re going to be great, Kaylie. I know it.”

The smile reached Kaylie’s face. “Thanks, Grace. You too.”

Just then, Emily appeared from the wings to tap on Grace’s shoulder and gesture to the car. Places. Grace took in several deep breaths, then walked onstage to join Kevin. She got in the car with him and he gave her a smile. She rested her head on his shoulder and they both closed their eyes. They heard the sound from the audience get quieter, then the curtains rolled open and the lights came up on the stage.

***

The light went amber, a sunset fading in the distance. Bonnie stood in front of her car, angrily kicking the front tire.

“Damn it! Damn it! Damn it! Damn it!”

Clyde sauntered up to her, an unkempt man in a torn white tank top and suspenders. She had no reason to trust him, but immediately upon seeing him she did anyways.

“Hey!” he said. “Engine trouble?”

She finally stopped kicking the tire. “Engine trouble, tire trouble, oil trouble…” she listed, sounding defeated.

“Looks like you and me got the same car,” Clyde noted. “Goes through oil like a preacher through whiskey, huh?”

Bonnie smiled, just a little. “Yeah.”

“How ‘bout I see if I can fix you up? And then maybe you gimme a lift into West Dallas.”

“Sure. Thanks,” she said, then stepped back to let him pop the hood and peer under it. “You live in the Devil’s Back Porch?”

“Not for much longer.”

“I don’t know anybody ever moved out of West Dallas,” Bonnie said, hands on her hips. He pulled his head out from under the hood and offered her a grease-stained hand.

“You do now,” he said with a wink. “Clyde Barrow.”

She shook her head, but smiled and took his hand. “Bonnie Parker.”

***

Clyde, now clad in a suit, pointed a shotgun at a bank teller. Bonnie stood beside him, a large leather bag hanging from her shoulder.

“Now, my partner here is gonna approach the counter with a bag that I would very much like you to fill with cash,” he said, his voice commanding the silence of the entire bank.

“I’m afraid I can’t do that,” the teller said calmly. Only his trembling fingers betrayed his anxiety.

Clyde raised his eyebrows, and exchanged a look with Bonnie. “Do you not see this gun, mister?” He gestured with the gun, causing a few in the crowd of hostages nearby to startle.

“I can’t fill your bag with cash because there isn’t any,” the teller clarified, a shake starting to become audible in his voice.

“This here’s a bank, ain’t it?” Clyde asked, sarcasm dripping from his voice.

“Yes, but--”

Clyde looked around as if he’d just noticed the uncommonly large crowd at the bank. “What is goin’ on here?”

“The bank’s closed.”

“Then what’re all these folks doin’ here?”

“Trying to get our damn money!” shouted an older man from near the back of the crowd.

“They’re sayin’ the bank is broke!” yelled the woman beside him.

“Not a nickle in the drawers,” said the teller.

“You’re tellin’ me I’m robbing a bank with no money?” Clyde said, disbelief coloring his tone.

“Complaint forms are over there.”

***

For Grace, the curtain call was always a precious moment. She and Kevin stepped onto the stage, hand in hand, to thunderous applause. Tears welled up in her eyes from the pure joy of the moment as she took her bow. As soon as the curtain closed, she let them fall. Rosa rushed up to her, putting a hand on her back as Grace desperately tried to wipe the tears away.

“Grace, are you okay?”

Grace nodded, a small sob bursting from her throat. She sniffed and tilted her head up to the lights. “I don’t think I’ve ever been so happy.”

Rosa grinned and put an arm around Grace’s shoulders, guiding her backstage to the music room. After a few minutes of the cast circulating the room, hugging and cheering, Ajay stepped in and they all fell silent.

“Good job, guys,” he said, trying not to sound too enthusiastic. “I have a couple notes, but that was a good show.”

The entire cast started cheering again, louder than before. They knew that that kind of compliment out of their director was rare, and it meant a lot more than he wanted them to think. Eventually, they quieted down to receive their notes, then dispersed to their respective dressing rooms. Grace stayed behind, waiting in the hallway outside the music room. When Ajay finally emerged, she caught his attention and he pulled her over to an alcove in the hall. He took her face in his hands and kissed her forehead almost reverently.

“You were stunning up there, Grace. I knew you would be.” He kissed both her cheeks and then pressed his lips softly to hers. “Now go home, get some sleep. We’ve still got three shows left this week.”

***

After the show Sunday, the end of the first week:

“Mom! Dad! James!” Grace cried, running full tilt through the nearly empty lobby to sweep her family up into a giant hug.

Once they broke apart, everyone grinning, Grace’s dad handed her a gigantic bouquet. Her mom beamed at her. James just sighed and ruffled her hair from his height almost a foot above her.

“Thanks, guys! And hey, cut it out!” She batted James’ hand away from her head. “But really, thank you guys so much for coming!”

“It was great, Gracie,” her mom said, smoothing her hair down where James had messed it up. “You’re our little star.”

“Hey!” James protested, sending the whole group into peals of laughter. Grace caught Ajay’s eye from where he was leaning against the wall, waiting.

“Guys,” she said, turning back to her family, “I want to introduce you to the director. Or, reintroduce you.”

Her father’s brow furrowed in confusion, but her mom’s eyes widened when she saw Ajay walking up to the group over Grace’s shoulder.

***

Friday, the second week:

“Bonnie!” Clyde yelled, reaching through the bars. Bonnie rushed over to him, throwing her bag to the ground and sinking to her knees when she saw him.

“Oh my god… what happened to your face, baby? What’s goin’ on? Can’t I complain? Can’t I do something?” She turned to yell for the prison guards.

“Somebody help him!”

She turned back to him, her eyes searching his face for some sort of explanation. Clyde opened his mouth, but said nothing.

Grace tugged on Kevin’s collar again, but the only thing she could register on his face was sheer panic. His line cued the guard’s entry, but he wasn’t saying it. The silence grew awkward, and Grace knew she had to do something, she just didn’t know what.

“Baby, what can I do? Can I–” Bonnie looked around, then lowered her voice. “Can I break you out of here? You got somethin’ I can bring you to help you bust out?”

Grace searched Kevin’s still-panicked face, hoping that improvised line was enough to give him a cue. And as realization slowly flooded his eyes and his face relaxed, she breathed a sigh of relief and knew it had been.

“Yeah, at the gas station, there’s a gun hidden under the porch–” he started, but a guard burst into the room, interrupting him.

“What seems to be the problem?”

Bonnie turned to face the guard, standing up. Pure rage twisted her features.

“Look at him!”

***

After the show Friday, Grace leaned against the door of her dressing room, scrolling through something on her phone. Ajay sauntered up.

“Hey,” he said, startling her. “Oh, sorry.”

“No, don’t worry. I’m just waiting for Rosa.”

“Is she running late, or something? You guys usually leave together.”

“Yeah, but my roommate came to this performance so we’re all going to leave together. But Rosa’s currently making out with my roommate in her dressing room, so…”

Ajay’s eyebrows shot up. “Wow.”

“Yeah,” Grace sighed. “If only there was something I could do in the meantime…” She cast him a meaningful glance. He promptly turned red and started stuttering. Grace burst out into laughter.

“I don’t get you,” she said between laughs. “You can be the smoothest guy in the world one second and a blubbering mess the next. What’s up with that?”

He shook his head with a smile. “I don’t know. I guess you bring out the best and the worst in me.”

***

Sunday, the second week:

Bonnie threw a glass jar to the ground, enraged. Then, all the fight gone out of her, she sighed and dropped to her knees, sweeping the shards onto a piece of fabric that she dumped in the trash. The familiar piano-and-guitar melody started up, and after a few bars Bonnie began to sing.

“I know my heart don’t care what people say. All I know is that I never felt like this. And besides, I wouldn’t change him if I could… No man’s all good…”

She walked over to an old armchair and sat heavily in it while Blanche sang from inside her beauty parlor.

“I always knew what I was takin’ on, but I always felt that I could change his ways. Even if my man will never fall in line… glad he’s mine.”

And then, from opposite sides of Cement City, Bonnie and Blanche sang in harmony.

“‘Cos you love who you love, and you can’t help how you’re made. You don’t have no say, your heart decides. It’s that simple, I’m afraid…”

Later in the song, Bonnie got up from her armchair. She pulled on Clyde’s old coat that he’d left in her house, and she gazed offstage, singing as if he were there.

“I only care that he’s mine and I am his. There ain’t no rules, that’s how it is. Most girls would hate to be standing in my shoes, but true love’s something you don’t choose,” she belted, all the loneliness and anguish and desperation flooding her face and affecting her tone.

Grace poured her own emotions into every syllable of those words, singing to her invisible Clyde right in the front of the wings. Except he wasn’t invisible, and he wasn’t Clyde, and he wasn’t even hers yet but he was standing there in a beige blazer and tortoiseshell glasses with gentle eyes and a soft smile, his face reflecting every sentiment she expressed. And she hoped that he knew that she meant every single word, even if she couldn’t tell him.

***

Thursday, the last week:

As she stormed offstage as Bonnie, Grace felt a sharp pain in her foot. She ignored it until she got to the wings, but immediately sat down under a blue light once she was there and took off her thin-soled shoe. The sharp pain only got worse when the removal of her shoe meant pulling a large shard of glass out of her heel. She nearly cried out in pain, but clamped a hand over her mouth before any sound could escape. One of the dressers—the one that helped Grace pull the gunshot wound stickers off her face during the prologue—noticed and rushed over, grabbing the first aid kit from the wall.

The dresser helped her back to her well-lit dressing room, then inspected the cut.

“It’s not too deep,” the dresser smiled up at her. “I’ll just clean it, stick a bandage on, and wrap it up. You’ll be fine for the rest of the show, but you should probably get it checked out tonight or tomorrow morning.”

Grace hissed as the dresser sprayed antibacterial on her foot. “How do you know all this?”

“I’m a paramedic,” the dresser grinned up at her.

“Wow. Well, thank god for you. I hope this is the worst you ever have to save me from.”

They laughed softly as the dresser finished bandaging her foot.

“When do you have to be back on?”

“After they do ‘When I Drive’. It’s not a lot of time, but it’s something.”

The dresser sighed. “Well, rest that foot as much as you can.”

“Yeah. Thanks so much.”

The dresser turned to leave, and Grace sighed down at her foot, still smarting from the glass shard. She’d have to be careful next time about only breaking the jar over the rug.

***

Curtain call closing night was indescribable. The joy she’d felt opening night was multiplied and combined with nostalgia, fierce love for every person onstage and backstage, and this time she really did tear up right on stage. Kevin wrapped his arm around her shoulder (and pressed a kiss to her temple for the sake of the audience) as tears rolled down her face. She wiped them away and put on her best and brightest smile for the audience, all standing, until the curtains closed. Then she turned directly into Kevin and wrapped her arms around him, sobbing into his chest.

When she looked up, she was surprised to find that his cheeks were wet too. And she was even more surprised when Rosa came and wrapped her arms around both of them, then Elijah, then Andrew, then Lysander, then Kaylie and Jackson, then all of the ensemble and even the dressers and run crew came out and joined the massive group hug. More people were crying than not, and most from pure happy joy.

Minutes later, when the hug finally broke up, everyone split off in opposite directions. They were all eager to get home, fatigue turning to happy exhaustion. They’d all help with strike Monday, but nobody planned to show up before noon. The theatre may have been rapidly emptying, but Grace’s heart was filling up fast. The cast and crew might have been wavering, but she thrummed with energy as she went to look for Ajay.

She searched backstage for him, behind every set piece and in every darkened corner. Nothing.

No mind, she thought, he’s probably in the music room. That was where they had notes every night, and even though they wouldn’t tonight it wasn’t unreasonable to think he’d be there. She made her way down to the music room, but it was empty.

Turning desperate, she searched the halls through the theatre, the house, and the lobby for him, but he was nowhere to be found. As she made a final lap through the music room, just to make sure she hadn’t missed him, her heart sank lower and lower until she felt it drop out of her body and sink into the floor. She rounded the stairs to head resignedly back to her dressing room.

He stood me up, was all she could think. He realized he was making a mistake and he bolted. Logic piped up and tried to tell her she was being unreasonable, but between the emotions running high from closing night and the fissure quickly forming in her heart, she couldn’t listen.

Maybe he has a good explanation, her brain protested as she trudged up the stairs. You should go check your phone. See if he texted.

Or maybe I’m just a failure again, her heart screamed, drowning out all reason.

Tears sprung in her eyes again, but for a completely different reason this time. She slowly turned the knob to her dressing room door, all the happiness gone out of her.

She was so preoccupied with her warring emotions that she didn’t even notice that the light was on in the dressing room.

#how bout a dance #how bout a dance part 11 #ajay x mc #ajay bhandari #choices fanfic #hssca #hssca fanfic #imma honestly just post this and Go #my fanfic #hbad

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