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spaceisout · 2 years ago

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A desire that was not meant to be.

Pairing: Reiner Braun x F!Reader, Slight Jean Kirstein x F! Reader

Plot: You had put off your meeting due to the conflict with Marley but due to circumstances everything ends up erupting all at once.

Warning(s): cursing, yelling, slight violence

A/n: there might be a few mistakes since it's not fully proofread.

It was a quiet night to say the least, there were no titans in sight. The only sound you could hear were beetles and some animals roaming around at night.

A campfire inside the forest would have seem like a good choice to gather with some friends.

Friends.

Nowadays the people you had known for years were disappearing little by little. You did not know who to trust now. Anyone could have ill intentions that might get you tracked and dragged back to Paradis by the jaegerists.

Your lives were on the line and in return you'd get nothing.

The current group that was at each other's throats years ago were now sitting together sharing a meal.

It was a sight you'd never thought you would see again.

Well see Reiner again.

After parting that day during the invasion all you thought was about seeing the love your life. Waiting to kiss him again one day, but of course it turned out differently.

Now having him front of you brought mixed feelings and no reassurance that your love was as strong as it used to be.

Reiner kept glancing your way from time to time.

There were some instances that you'd both look at each other and let your gaze rest until one of you looked away.

His stare did awaken some of those feelings you'd used to get whenever he was around. But with a current situation it was difficult to tell if it was wrong to still feel something for him.

"Reiner Braun," Yelena said bringing your catching your attention. "You're the one who reached Shiganshina's inner gate. Do you know how many Eldians we're devoured by pure titans because of that?"

Reiner looked away feeling the guilt rushing back to him as he recalled the events.

You could tell how regretful he was. The look on his face said it all.

Yelena looked at Annie, "Annie Leonheart. I heard you killed a few more than survey core members on your time. And that's before we get into all innocents you trampled on and to fight your way out of Stohes."

"But let's not forget the brave liberators of Paradis." She added, "There's Armin the level headed one, who seems far too kind to cause that blood bath he did at Marley. How high do you think you can stack those corpses. And don't forget the civilians there were plenty."

Armin looked down at his lap closing his eyes.

"Not to sell the rest of you too short." She continued, making you feel annoyed by her voice already. "Everyone gave a heroic performance in Liberio. Jean most of all, Little Falco here threw himself in front of you to protect the cart but you didn't let that stop you from firing your thunder spear did you?"

You could feel the air change as her words continued on. Pouring venom into the open and getting everyone riled up to cause a scene. You knew her game play very well. She did not care about saving people. Elena never cared about anyone but herself in this whole situation. She easily bent down to Eren to stay in power even if that meant killing her own friend in return.

"You'd thought you all made it out clean until Gabi gunned down Sasha. What a sweetheart that girl was, even I couldn't help but feel sad for her." She said, "And to you she was family, you went through training together, went through hell together. Losing her must have been more painful than I can imagine.*

You rolled your eyes at her fake sympathy.

"This stew is pretty good Hange." Jean spoke smiling slightly at her, "Got enough for seconds?"

"Oh we've got more than enough so don't be shy." Hange grabbed his bowl and began to pour more stew.

Jean leaned back holding the bottle of liquor in one hand while keeping the other flat on the ground.

"I wanna thank you for this Yelena." He said, "You're baiting us out to air our grudges so we can get it out of our systems and get our heads on straight. Right? You'd have someone to vent to yourself if you hadn't blown out all you friends brains out to keep your fantasy alive."

He took another sip before continuing, "Now all you have a head full of cutting remarks and death wish. So this is actually pretty selfless of you."

"What can you expect?" You spoke leaning back against the large tree trunk. "She's all about getting what she wants but when her life is in danger that's all she actually cares about."

You looked at her as she avoided eye contact, "Isn't that right? You're all talk about everyone else's mistakes but you keep yourself shut on your own. I really hope that if you make it this far someone doesn't come along and take you out for not wanting to deal with your crap anymore."

"Now now we need to all be on the same page, (name)." Hange said, "Let's all take a break yeah?"

A sigh escaped from your lips, "How can I when people like her exist? She's a selfish prick."

Yelena lips started to curve up into a smile but stopped herself.

"Right... almost forgot." She said, "I didn't mention another name, he was already dead by the time we met. But I remember you said you were good friends. What was it, Mar―co."

Both your and Jean's eyes widened hearing his name.

Everyone's eyes were now on Yelena as well.

"As I recall you told me Annie had something to do with his death didn't you? Did you ever ask her for details?" Jean gasped in surprise. "I bet she'll tell you."

You held your breath waiting to hear an answer, an explanation as to why your close friend had to face death that day.

"I stole his odm gear and left him where titans could get to him." Annie admitted avoiding eye contact, "Marco got eaten because of me―"

Was surprised you was how quickly Reiner spoke.

"Annie was only following orders that I was giving her."

Hate started to fall deep in the pit of your stomach. Jean noticed your change in behavior, he placed his hand on top of yours giving it a gentle squeeze.

Of course it did not go unnoticed by Reiner, seeing how close you two were.

"During the fight in Trost, Marco over heard me and Bertholdt discussing something secret. If we let him go he could have exposed us and we decided we had to silence him." He continued but his explanation only angered you more. "I figured nobody would think twice about a scout getting eaten by a Titan. So I tackled him under a roof and I pinned him down and ordered Annie to strip him off his ODM gear. Then we just left him there... Marco was stranded on that rooftop without a way and a Titan got to him."

Silence rested upon the group, no one could grasp what Reiner had admitted. It was devasting seeing how someone could be so selfish about leaving another human being stranded to die.

"So... did Marco say anything before he was killed?" Jean asked.

"He asked why I wasn't willing to talk to him." Reiner answered.

"I think that question applies to everyone, why we haven't been willing to talk. We all just started fighting and assumed it had to be to the death."

"But we can still change that," Hange added. "We were all ready to kill each other. And now here we are talking it's something right? To think we would all be sitting around a campfire, sharing a meal with people we once called enemies."

"I stood and watched as a Titan devoured Marco and then a switch flipped and I couldn't figure out why it was happening."

Hange gasped.

"I just snapped flew into a rage, hell-bent on avenging Marco. I cut down the titan myself―"

"We get it Reiner." Jean interrupted him, "You're saying the guilt of carrying out the mission screwed with your head."

"Don't forgive me... I'm truly worthless."

"I said we get it." He spoke louder as his voice trembled with rage.

"I'm sorry."

It was enough to make you and Jean explode. Tears started to fall down your cheeks as you tried to understand why he was covering for her. Why he decided to go along with those orders.

Jean leaped from his place and threw a punch at him, throwing Reiner back and blood to come out of mouth. In a moment Jean was on top of him without a thought, it was all starting to become too much for you.

As they were killing each other you tried to suppress the sobs that wanted to escape. Armin walked over to you, rubbing your back and trying to calm you down.

"Try to breathe, okay?" Armin softly spoke, "Let's try and get your breathing back to normal."

You weakly nodded but it was impossible seeing how Jean was trying to kill the person who you thought was the love of your life.

Armin then left your side as he and Connie tried to get Jean off of Reiner

You stood up along with Hange and Mikasa to see what was going on.

Gabi then stepped in, but she was hurt in the process by Jean's strong hit. Falco kneeled down beside her worried about her health.

"I'm sorry... we came here," She spoke in pain. "To kill everyone in Paradis... we wanted to stage a massacre not prisoners. We thought the world might forgive us the sins of the Eldian Empire. If we wiped you out, they'd recognize us as good Eldians you see and save them from the Eldian devil's. And now my mom and dad and everyone back in Liberio."

"I'm sorry..." Gabbie got her knees trying to beg for forgiveness. "I understand I have no right to ask anything of you but we can't save our families without your help. So please... please don't let out homes get trampled. I'm beging you."

Falco held Gabbie up, looking everyone. "Help us please, we have to stop the rumbling together."

"We're begging you." She said.

We're begging you." He said.

"Let go." Jean said.

Both Connie and Armin let him go and he walked away.

"Jean." You said jogging behind him.

He stopped, turning to look at you, "I'm sorry― right now I need some space."

"I understand." You mumbled.

Jean gave you a small smile and headed into the woods.

Reiner slowly sat up, his eyes landing on you. They were filled with regret and sorrow.

You looked at him, feeling sorry for him for the way that Jean attacked him but not for what he had done.

Slowly you walked up to Reiner, Mikasa stood beside you as Armin and Connie stood aside.

"I used to think we'd see each other again," you said. "I wished for days upon days to see you... to maybe rekindle what we had."

"(name) I'm so sorry―"

"Don't apologize." You said, "I know for hell that you weren't the one who ordered to kill Marco. Were you?"

"I did I swear I didn't mean―"

"Stop lying!" You exclaimed as tears formed in your eyes. "You're covering for Annie, Reiner. She is the one who decided to kill Marco off not you."

Annie stood up, "I shouldn't have done what I did (name). I know I can't take back what I did―"

"No you can't." You clenched your jaw, "You're the reason Marco is dead! My friend died because of your selfish pathetic reasons. Do you realize how it felt to tell his parents how he died?!"

She looked down as her vision started get blurry.

"You don't get to feel sorry for the way you treated him." Sniffling you continued, "Marco was an innocent person who wanted to get to the ranks and serve the king just like you did. He was the kindest person who did not turn away anyone who needed help. He even helped you for crying out loud and this― this is how you repaid him?!"

"(name) we know what we both did was wrong but you shouldn't take it all out on her―"

"You both disgust me."

Reiner and Annie both stayed quiet.

"To think that I fell in love with you..." you voice cracked, "I―I wanted to spend the rest of my life next to you after this cruel world was over. But I was s fool."

"No that's not true!" Reiner stood up looking at you with broken eyes. "It was never your fault and I meant everything I told you... everything I felt about you was real (name). You have to believe me."

"How can I, huh?" You took a step forward, looking at him eye to eye. "I can only remember the person you were with me... and every time I look at you it's someone else I'm seeing."

"I'm the same person as I was back then." He desperately spoke, "I―I haven't changed! I still love you with all my heart (name)."

"I can't believe you..."

"(name) please," he begged holding both your upper arms in his hands. "I love you (name), I can't loose you... I―I don't want to loose you."

"Let me go, Reiner..." You quietly said as you cried.

"Please don't walk away from us―"

"Reiner."

"(Name) please..." He rested his forehead against yours trying to remember your warmth, your touch that he had craved to feel all these years.

"R―Reiner... please let me go." You let the tears fall, seeing them land on his arms.

"I love you so much..."

"Reiner let her go." Armin spoke.

"I'm not going to let the person I love walk away from me."

"Reiner... you already messed up." Connie said, "Let her go and let this end while she's giving you the chance to do so."

"Reiner, please listen... I don't want you to get hurt." Gabbie pleaded as she pulled on his shirt.

Tears were already rolling down his cheeks as he pulled himself away from you.

You were already missing his warmth. But you knew you couldn't forgive him, not for the way he acted.

"(name) don't blame him for my actions... he doesn't deserve the hate I do." Annie looked at you. "Reiner cares about you―"

"Then you should have thought about that before you did what you did." You said full of hatred, "If it was for me I wouldn't dare help you rescue your father for the crap that you pulled. You killed innocent people, for no reason! I don't even begin to understand why you should be alive instead of my family."

"I know..."

"But I'm not heartless," you explained wiping away your tears. "I wished that I was but unfortunately I'm not. There's innocent people on both sides that shouldn't suffer because of us. They deserve to live no matter what."

"I knew you'd end up doing the right thing." Yelena spoke, "It's what you do."

"Shut up, Yelena." You glared at her, "If it weren't for needing you, I would have left your ass behind to rot in hell. You don't deserve to be here. You're the least person to suggest anything with the ill intentions you have."

"All I did was help like Jean had said." She in innocently said.

"Oh please deep down you enjoy seeing this going down. You don't care about who gets in a fight, all you want is to tear people apart. That's your game, it's what you enjoy because you have nothing else in your pathetic life."

Looking at them one by one you saw what they all all had in common.

"Once we're done with this... I don't want to ever see your faces again." You said looking specifically at Yelena, Annie and Reiner.

You walked away from the group feeling like the air was being sucked out of you. It was getting heavier by the minute as you walked further into the forest.

Once you managed to get far enough away from them you let it all out. Sob after sob escaped from the heaviness of your chest, every emotion that was pent up was coming out.

All you could feel was a giant hole within you.

You had already lost your friends in the past, you'd thought that Reiner would be the one constant person in your life. But you were wrong and it hurt you so much seeing him for what he truly was.

Slowly you slid down against a tree with tightly closed eyes as the feeling of emptiness surrounded you. You wanted to run back into his arms, to have you hold you. Console you, in hopes of that pain going away.

But all you could do was hold yourself and try to get through the pain alone.

A pair of arms wrapped themselves around you, smelling the all too familiar scent.

"I'm sorry for leaving you alone to deal with him." Jean said pulling you into his chest.

"I―It's alright... you needed time." You mumbled into his chest.

"What a hell of a life we live huh?" He asked. "I wonder if Marco is waiting to scold us for the way we are."

"I miss him."

"I miss him too but we can't let him down... as much as we're in pain right now Marco wouldn't want us to do this to ourselves."

"I'm sure he would understand," you smiled weakly.

He chuckled lightly, "Knowing him he would drag us out of bed no matter how bad it would be."

"Yeah..."

"You deserve better... Reiner was privileged to have known you." He rubbed your back gently. "You're a badass who will get back on her feet I just know you will."

Your grip on him tighten.

Reiner was out of your life.

He chose what he wanted and now you had to do the same.

That's all you could do.

#reiner braun #reiner braun x reader #aot #aot x reader #aot angst #aot reiner #snk x reader #snk reiner #snk angst #shingeki no kyoujin x reader #shingeki no kyoujin fanfiction #attack on titan #aot x you #aot fanfiction #aot imagines #snk fanfiction #snk imagine

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novelistash · 8 days ago

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Another day, another contest. Back to back performances are brutal, but the season of competition keeps eyes on the theater. Today the finalists from Ultra rank will be showing off their skills. I'm still down in Normal rank with a Beldum that doesn't have a name. Weirdly, I don't feel too worried about it.

The judges are the same as last time, so I know my fake routine isn't going to work. This time I try to let my Beldum's natural cuteness shine, but it's all steel and eyeball. Take down doesn't get any applauds. I let my partner shift about the room, frolicking on electromagnetic waves guided by my exertions. Once again, I overdo it, but my showing is over. Beldum has to help me keep my balance.

Riko walks onto the stage with her Buneary and the change is noticeable. Buneary is throwing her head up with sass and it catches the judge's attention right away. Her moveset is different, her routine is rough, but the energy is raw and natural. It's entertaining in that way that a wobbling figure skater is.

Raul isn't in the Normal ranks. I'm alone with my meal and my berries. Beldum is doing alright, but I'm feeling the sway of every breath. My psychic abilities aren't strong enough for this. I need to super charge my brain and I don't even know anyone who could teach me how to do that.

Riko walks over to my spot by the planter. She crouches down low to wave and I nod.

"I should thank you for your advice the other day. Training with Mimi has never been that easy or fun. I always had to fight with her, to push her to get her to tilt her head or do anything cute. Yesterday, it was like I finally got to meet Mimi for the first time."

"Well, she takes after you," I say with a smile.

That makes her pout and she jabs a finger at me. "You can shut your mouth if you're not gonna say anything nice! I was trying to thank you!"

I can't help but laugh and I have to lean back to catch my breath.

"Hey, don't try to act like I hurt you because I have plenty of witnesses!"

"Nope, it is psychic fatigue," I explain with my eyes closed. "I'm not used to putting out so much power all at once. You wouldn't happen to be a psychic, would you?"

"No. Sorry. Maybe you need to train your Beldum differently. It can understand verbal commands, can't it?"

"Yeah, but it..." I open my eyes to contemplate her words. Maybe all of my fancy training is a waste of time. I reach into my bag to pull out my laptop and my Poketech X buzzes.

Last night Spiral let me know that she was going to Koynlab at 11. I set an alarm for 11 in case I was available. Win or lose, I'm not going to be able to continue.

"You know, I was talking to you," says Riko.

"Yeah, and I'm gonna have to take off." I stand up and the rush of stars is real. "You think there's any chance I made it to the-"

Riko isn't looking at me. The kid has her arm held out. Her Rotom-phone is extended towards me with unspecified purpose.

"What are you doing?"

Riko acts annoyed as she explains the obvious gesture. "I'm exchanging numbers with you, but only so that I can tell you how low your ranked."

Poketech X interacting with a Rotom-phone is fast. All I have to do is tap my wrist watch against the Rotom and the Pokémon uses its power to send the information. I don't really get how it works and that scares me. Ignorance to technology makes me feel old and even more irrelevant.

"Thanks, Riko. I'm sure you'll get high marks today."

I'm all the way down the stairs before Riko speaks up. "Today was better. What you did with your Beldum was better. You needed to practice more, but I think the judges liked it. I still think you're wasting your time, but I guess if you're going to fail no matter what, you should try your hardest."

"Thank you, Riko. I'll keep that in mind." I wave bye to the kid and gather my will. Meeting up with Spiral feels foreboding.

I don't know why I'm so tense walking into Slateport's business district. I have six Pokemon on me. Even with Beldum and Connie taking up two slots I'll be alright. I still have enough Pokemon for a three on three battle, with one to cover my exit -- should the need arise. The last time I met with Spiral it was fine. Well, it wasn't fine but we didn't battle. She has to know I probably have Roi, my Tyrantrum, but the rest of my team should be a mystery. Edvard, my Shiinotic, and Sorrowfell, my Gengar, gives me two options for a decent stall.

I wonder if I should go to the Pokémon Center and switch both of them out for Ferrothorn, but she's been in a box since I was battling seriously. She might come out aggro and confused to find her trainer ten years older and sporting a beard. I'm just gonna have to trust the Diela is strong enough to deliver hurt. Conkeldurr's aren't popular, but they hit hard and mine was one of the best. She could hit strong as a champ's and had a good sense of where blasts were gonna come in. If this fight gets serious, I can trust on Diela to make some space and Roi to give me the speed to get out of here.

But there isn't any fight coming. I am in the business district imagining fights because I'm fatigued. I take a seat outside Koynlabs, and wait for Spiral's exit.

@trainerspiral

#writing #closed roleplay #closed rp #pokemon oc

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nerves-nebula · 1 year ago

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So my friend recently told me a story and it led to a very interesting moment.

She told me a (presumably true?) story about a psychologist or something who was studying psychopathy in people and noticed that he had the similar traits or brain scans or something and he asked his loved ones if they'd noticed any kind of psychopathic traits. And they said that yeah, he seemed generally kind of distant and cold. So he tried to perform the motions of Caring More in the ways that they consider more normal i guess.

And he came up to them and was like “I'm trying to make you feel more loved but you can probably tell I’m just going through the motions. It probably doesn’t feel genuine I should just stop.”

and they said that NO actually it was really nice, and made them feel better that he was trying and doing those little things and affirmations to show he cared even if they didn't come naturally to him.

my friends takeaway from this was that it was very sweet. it was a nice story about a guy learning to communicate his affection to people around him. and like. here's the thing. i get that, I do, it's sweet he's making an effort for them. I'm not trying to disparage the idea of making efforts for the people you love and doing things that don't come naturally to you for the sake of making them feel better. that's sweet, i get it.

but my immediate reaction was like. GOD. how depressing. his loved ones didn't care about how he showed affection, like, at all. they felt he was cold, and once they realized he was different, instead of trying to understand him and the fact that he wasn't being intentionally "cold" or whatever to them, they encourage him to go through the motions of something that feels awkward and insincere.

like they didn't teach themselves to learn that when he does a certain thing he means it a certain way, they just wanted him to go through the motions with them. and it's sweet that he did, but what about them? what are they doing to understand him?

and obviously im reading a lot into this story, and i'm putting a lot of myself into my interpretation. i'm sure he was fine with it, or else he wouldn't do it. I don't know the specifics because this is just a story i was told, so there's probably all kinds of stuff i'm not considering.

but to me it's such a depressing story. because all I've ever wanted was to not have to put up a front around the people i care about the most. i want to be able to be myself and not have to go through any of the socially accepted motions, or put up the kinds of walls that exhaust me when im interacting with people who don't know me well.

the idea that people could know me for years and never try to understand the way i show affection? the idea that they think it would be BETTER for me to go through the insincere motions of mimicking their signs of affection, instead of being genuine with how i love them?

like, what do you people even want. do you want friends? do you even want to be close to someone?? because it just sounds like you want someone to confide in, who will be fake with you as long as it comforts you. it sounds so miserable.

it sounds like being told that your love isn't enough, it's weird and wrong and not worth it. it isn't what anyone who isn't like you would want, and it isn't acceptable to believe that THEY should make an effort for YOU, even if YOU make the effort to understand THEM more.

i have made the effort. i've trained myself into saying more "nice" or "polite" things. i'm still working on my habitual cruelty, which i do without even thinking. i'm not very good at it yet but it's an ongoing process and i'm working on being more considerate. and it's not enough. it's not enough to be better, because my love and affection is still wrong and bad. because I show my dedication through actions, and I don't say enough of the meaningless phrases that are supposed to comfort you. and i'm so tired and bitter about it.

cuz even my closest friend expects me to be fake. forever. or until i've faked it enough that it's second nature to me.

i wonder if I'll be "fixed" enough for everyone by then.

#nnstuff #rambling #ableism tw #<- maybe??? idk #im pretty sure i have a personality disorder. which is kinda what this is about. idk which one tho.#vent

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adamwatchesmovies · 1 year ago

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The Banana Splits Movie (2019)

No one was doing anything with The Banana Splits so I don't think anyone will be upset when they learn the "beloved childhood property" is being repurposed as a horror comedy. For those who want that Five Nights at Freddy’s film adaptation, this should keep you at bay for a little while, though you’ll be eager to ditch it once something better comes around. That shouldn’t be hard.

Although he’s considered too old for the show, Harley Williams (Finlay Wojtak-Hissong) loves The Banana Splits: a children’s television series featuring a band of four anthropomorphic animals - dog Fleegle, gorilla Bingo, lion Drooper and Snorky the elephant - and their human co-star Stevie (Richard White). On his birthday, Harley is given tickets to a live shooting of an episode. He, his half-brother Austin (Romeo Career), his classmate Zoe (Maria Nash), his mother Beth (Dani Kind) and his father Mitch (Steve Lund) all go, never suspecting a malfunction will soon cause the animals to go on a killing spree.

There are laughs throughout, which means The Banana Splits Movie is a successful horror-comedy. Before the blood begins flowing, the characters are so broad and cartoonish it’s hard not to chuckle. As soon as Mitch opens his mouth, you know his days are numbered. Same for Stevie. Same with the annoying Instagram-obsessed couple (Kiroshan Naidoo and Celina Martin). You can probably predict everyone who will die, and in what order. You can predict most of the plot, in fact. What the love plot will be like, what will trigger the Banana Splits to become murderous, what certain characters are up to when they’re lying, etc. It’s a by-the-numbers slasher film with some pretty good child actors but plenty of clunky dialogue. As for the adults, most of their performances will make you wish for a prompt death. Needless to say, the selling points of The Banana Splits are the kills and the central gimmick.

Horror films are notorious for working on a tight budget. Unfortunately, Canadian director Danishka Esterhazy (previously responsible for the excellent Black Field) just doesn’t have the resources to make this film look good. Right away, the badly-written story stretches plausibility to its breaking point. The Banana Splits are obviously actors in suits but actually, they’re highly-sophisticated robots covered in fake-looking fur to bring a children’s television series to life. Seems like a waste… but without the setup, there’d be no movie, so fine. Is it too much to ask for the film to get the basics right? When Austin walks away from his family to pursue the show's hostess, Paige (Naledi Majola), he disappears for the entire length of the shoot but his family hardly notices. Strange considering once the filming is done it’s pitch black outside and the studio lot is deserted. I guess Austin was gone for 8 hours then? As for the kills, there are a couple of neat ones but overall, they’re only ok. Mostly, they’re unconvincing, don’t fit the premise, or don't excite you. Needless to say, you’ll never come close to being scared.

The Banana Splits Movie comes off as a couple of random ideas stitched together, as if writers Jed Elinoff and Scott Thomas had a script for a Five Nights at Freddy’s movie that was repurposed with a property that kind of fit but not really. I’d love to hear what fans of the original ’68 television series think of this take on the material. Everything about the production screams “cheap”, down to the story. I’ll remind you it doesn’t cost much to give your text one extra pass to make the characters smart or interesting. Often, this film just doesn’t care about very much at all. Still, I did find myself laughing quite a bit, particularly during the beginning. Although severely flawed, the novelty of The Banana Splits does keep you invested enough to look past the numerous flaws and keep watching until the end. (On DVD, March 30, 2020)

#The Banana Splits movie #the banana splits #movies #films #movie reviews #film reviews #danishka esterhazy #jed elinoff #scott thomas #dani kind #steve lund #celina martin #finlay wojtak-hissong #sara canning #romero carere #maria nash #2019 movies #2019 films

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gruesomejack · 1 year ago

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Down the Rabbit Hole by Alex Prescott

Gotta get the boring questions out of the way first. Ready?

Jack laughs at that. It's bright and you can see the light in his eyes from behind the leather mask perched on his nose. Up close you can really make out the Bowie-esque injury. His right pupil is blown almost to the point of engulfing the blue-green split of his iris. His left is lively, zeroed in, and attentive.

What inspired you to get into music?

"What or who?" He responds. I give him the go ahead to take it as either. Jack thinks for a few moments, his fingers drumming on the top of his thigh. They're still stained red from the show; he'd been bathed in a few gallons of fake blood in a way that would surely make Stephen King proud. He'd cleaned up before the interview, but the evidence of the theatrics still lingered in his nooks and crannies. "I was lucky enough to have a knack for it right away. Once I learned the basics, I was able to pick out notes and chords by ear and I was teaching myself songs after listening to them on the radio." He explains, "It started off as an escape. I'd spend all day in the backyard teaching myself to play rather than deal with the chaos of my family life." Jack pauses for a moment, briefly looking troubled. "My older brother was in his own band before joining mine. He heard me playing and encouraged me to take it further. Without him insisting, I don't think I'd be here."

There's a voice from behind the trailer. A brief "You're welcome!" Bobby, the mentioned brother, peeks his head around and flashes a lopsided grin. Jack responds with a crude gesture and turns his attention back to me. "Fleetwood Mac. Next question."

Your performances have faced criticism for being openly explicit and reflecting queer influence. What do you have to say to the people who think you should be more family friendly or toned down?

"Fuck that! My shows aren't for families." Jack is laughing again and grinning. He's got a wide smile and big, white teeth that stretch across his cheeks. It's clear he thinks that question is very funny. "I have a 21 and over rule for a reason. If I want to parade myself in leather and fake blood, nobody is going to stop me." Jack hums; his expression grows thoughtful. "My shows are for people like me. Different, bullied, outcasts. The 'family' I want in my audience is the one that comes together when a bunch of freaks feel that elation from finally finding understanding and acceptance in one another. When I'm on stage, the audience is my family, and I'm theirs."

Are you queer?

"Why? Are you interested?" Jack was quick, his eyes sparkling. Lashes lowering, he smiles again. "I've been very open with my sexuality. At least I hope so." He ammends, "Otherwise I've been simulating fellatio on stage for nothing."

Speaking of. There are rumors that you and your drummer are in a relationship.

"Andy? No. There was a time where we might've strayed close to something like that, but we're just good friends." He says, his eyes soft and intense. "He needs a good fuck though, if you know anyone interested."

Another voice breaks through from across the way. "I don't need you meddling in my love life!" The blonde has a kink style pup mask resting on the top of his head, his skin stained with "blood" spatter. "I don't date fans or groupies. That's how you end up with stalkers."

Jack grins, "I dunno. The girls you used to date could count as both."

Andy hesitates and mutters something before stomping off towards his band mates.

Have you experienced any memorable or negative fan interactions?

"Both, definitely. I recently I had a fan mail me the mummified remains of a pet rabbit."

Did you keep them?

"Duh."

SOMETHING SOMETHING LITTLE EXCERPT OF ALEX'S INTERVIEW WITH RABBIT IN THE ROCKSTAR AU,,,, I made a drawing to go with this but my nails are too long and it didn't turn out right, but,,, here he is ❤️

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dearestaeneas · 7 months ago

Text

April 25.

Two weeks left. I just have to make it through two more weeks. I hate to admit how appealing unemployment is beginning to sound. I should be more worried, but it’s not as though I’m paid enough to cover my bills, anyway.

I cannot wait to be free of this place. It’s been…different lately.

But I’ve been here for years. Maybe it always felt like this, and now that I can see a finish line, something unconscious is trying to take it all in in these last moments.

Still, though. It’s like the roof is buckling over my head, like the air itself is boxing against my ears. I sound crazy. I know I sound crazy, but it’s like the building itself can sense that I’m leaving. Maybe the headaches are the only way it knows how to tell me.

Three years. I have worked here for three years.

I’ve spent more time here than anywhere else. And they pay me less than minimum wage to do it.

I’ve reflected a lot on my last few shows here. I doubt I’ll ever get a job like this again. I’d like to be paid, but I’ll miss knowing the gallery more than anyone else.

There have never been themes between exhibitions before. Our last big show was from an illustrator and puppeteer. Lots of kids came in to see that one, and I loved calling out from the desk, “Would you like to see one up close?” when I saw them get just a little too close to the stanchion. The kids were usually shy, but their associated adults would respond enthusiastically. Graciously.

I would cross that border between exhibit and audience: the only person allowed to do so. I would let them choose a puppet, and then I would make it dance for them.

I would make it wave. Sometimes, I made it speak.

I let them pick as many as they wanted, and they never crossed closer into my world. I would lift the marionettes from their pegs, reverently.

When I locked up for the night, I would turn off the stage lights of the puppet theater first. I don’t know why. It wasn’t convenient.

I would never look into their space after those lights were off. Not if I could avoid it. It felt…wrong. They weren’t meant to be seen like that. They weren’t meant to be viewed when they were asleep and so far away from the next performance.

I did look once, though. I even took a photo. I liked the cool, dark light on them, the way the varnish on the wood still shone in such low light. Their faces weren’t cruel, they didn’t change. I know that.

I also know that that photo was not blurry when I took it.

Whenever I tried to zoom in on their faces after I left, it was like they had looked away at the last moment.

I had felt personally offended whenever someone called them creepy. There was a public safety officer who often came in to bullshit with me and walk around the gallery. He called them creepy. He talked about the job like it was a burden. A burden that the marionettes made so much worse.

I think he was hitting on me. He always stands around, waiting. As if he has more to say to me. I pretend to not notice. I pretend to be busy. I agreed with him when he called the puppets creepy, or that the job was a pain. It was easier. Made everything go faster.

I apologized to the marionettes once. He just didn’t understand, I explained. When a patron told me they had scared her when she was younger, I praised them. Being from a culture that values this sort of thing for storytelling helps, I suppose.

I didn’t take any photos of them after that one time. I always said goodnight, though.

I hope they were packaged well when the show ended. I know the correct protocol, but I mean actually packaged well. Were they handled with the care I would have shown?

This show doesn’t have the same heart. Some senior art student bullshit. Lifeless. Soulless. Just like the kids who make them, no doubt.

One girl yelled at me because she misplaced her prints. I saw her project in full today- it’s a fake ad for gum. She didn’t even have the decency to make something good after treating me like that.

There is one piece, though, in a sea of fake-deep graphic design, that hints at being created by someone with some kind of light behind their eyes.

It’s a sheep.

It’s massive. And it’s hanging from 13 feet above. Its wool is golden, and its hooves look as though they were taken from the real thing.

There are smaller accompanying pieces next to it, one of which is a digital print of a golden sheep with a halo around it, and the other is a small embroidered portrait, featuring the same golden lamb, although much smaller. Two red strings fall from it and fill a vial beneath, the blood in all its shades swirling within.

I wonder how much the largest part, the hanging sheep, weighs. It is suspended by ropes. Not the thickest, sure, but ropes nonetheless. It hangs from what I assume is a handmade wooden bracket.

I was not here for its installation. What hangs from the ceiling now is nothing like what I imagined when I first saw the draft prints.

I do not know how the artist made the eyes look so realistic.

#anway. i have two weeks left at my job.#original writing #original story #first person pov #first person writing #writing #writeblr #writers on tumblr #short story #original short story #gallery #gallery work #unreality #suspense #creepy

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selineram3421 · 2 years ago

Note

Can i get a short fic on Alastor's future s/o confessing to him by singing Bad Romance by Lady Gaga (however the Halestorm cover) at like a Hotel event or something?

Sounds cute! I shall listen to the song while typing.

Serenata

Alastor X Punk Reader Oneshot

You were nervous.

Hell, nervous wasn't close to how you felt.

The Hotel was doing a kind of talent show, where anyone could come up and sing. Honestly, it was mostly for Charlie to sing to her hearts content, but Vaggie was hiding it as a way for more demons to try and stay at the hotel.

For some reason, your brain thought it'd be a good idea to sign up and dedicate a song to your long time crush.

Yeah! This will totally be fine and not humiliate you in front of possibly a hundred demons or so.

God, you wanted to wring the neck of your past self. Running a hand down your face, you sigh and shake your head side to side to rid the nerves.

Suck it up! You can't back out now.

Peaking out the curtains, you look out into the audience and find the demon you were looking for. Sitting in the-

The front row!?

Now you started pacing, pulling at the bottom of your shirt. "Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck-", you repeated.

You heard the audience clap and cheer, signaling the end of one performance. Meaning that it'd be your turn after the next.

Shit-

"Hey! You're up after this demon, start getting ready and break a leg!", Charlie says with a smile and gives you a thumbs up before leaving.

Breaking a leg is so much easier.

"Fucking shit-Whatever! Just fake it! Fake it. Pretend that you have confidence for at least five minutes!", you tell yourself, flicking your fingers to physically shake off the nerves. "Fake it!"

Putting up a calm neutral face, you did a singing warm up in the "dressing room."

It was just a room full of costumes but it muffled out noise just fine. Once stepping out, you heard Charlie call your name.

"You're up!", she said happily.

You hoped everything would turn out alright, stepping out onto the stage.

Remember, the worst that could happen is being rejected. Gee, thanks brain.

Now in front of the mic, you realized how much you hated being the center of attention. "Let's get this party fucking started!", you hid your true feelings and solidified your front as the demons cheered, ready for you to start.

The lights turned on, red and white with a few lasers.

The music started, only giving you a second.

Want your bad romance

Whistles were heard when singing the first line.

I want your ugly, I want your disease

I want your everything as long as it's free

I want your love (I want your love)

You couldn't look at him, knowing it would just make you freeze up. But you promised yourself, just at a few parts, let it all out.

You know that I need you

I want it bad, a bad romance

Closing your eyes tight for a bit, you tilt your head down and open them, looking straight at him.

I want your love and I want your revenge

You and me could write a bad romance

The lights followed the speed of the song, flashing with red.

(Oh-oh-oh-oh-oooh)

I want your love and all your lovers' revenge

You and me could write a bad romance

Oh-oh-oooh-oh-oh-oh-oooh-oh-oh-oh!

Caught in a bad romance

Oh-oh-oooh-oh-oh-oh-oooh-oh-oh-oh!

Caught in a bad romance

Want your bad romance

You let it out and turned your head away, closing your eyes tight, a little afraid to see his reaction.

The crowd was loving it though, their shouts loud enough for you to hear.

I want your horror

I want your design

'Cause you're a criminal as long as you're mine

I want your love ( I want your love )

Love love love

I want your love ( I want your love, I want your love )

You decided to move around on stage, standing still wasn't the best when your heart feels like its going to burst.

You know that I want you, and you know that I need you

I want it bad, a bad romance

The white lights began flashing this time.

You took a breath and sang out the next part with the heart like before.

I want your love, and I want your revenge

You and me could write a bad romance

( Oh-oh-oh-oh-oooh )

I want your love and all your love has revenge

You and me could write a bad romance

Oh-oh-oooh-oh-oh-oh-oooh-oh-oh-oh!

Caught it a bad romance

Oh-oh-oooh-oh-oh-oh-oooh-oh-oh-oh!

Caught in a bad romance

Want your bad romance

You were nearing the last bit, and started to build up the courage to look at those red eyes again.

I want your love- I don't wanna be friends!

You looked at him again, finding his eyes wide as he stared back at you from the crowd.

Je veux ton amour

Et je veux ta revanche

Je veux ton amour

I don't wanna be friends ( I don't wanna be friends ) I don't wanna be friends ( I don't wanna be friends )

No I don't wanna be friends!

Want your bad romance ( Want your bad romance ) Want your bad romance!!

Silver confetti appeared out of nowhere, but you guessed it was probably Angel's doing.

You decided to hold your hand out as if telling the crowd to sing along to the next part.

I want your love, and I want your revenge

You and me could write a bad romance

Surprisingly they did, making the room filled with the pumped up concert energy. It continued till the end, cheering, clapping and whistles sounded out around the area.

You bowed, using the little bit of confidence you had left to not run off the stage. Walking off instead and through the back.

"That was amazing you little shit!", Angel greeted you with a hug. "You didn't tell me you knew how to sing!"

"The confetti was you wasn't it?", you said.

"Actually it was me and Charlie.", the spider demon corrected.

"Who did the lights? That was awesome.", you ask as he lets go.

"Vaggie.", he says with a shrug. "Didn't know they knew that."

You took a few steps back and rubbed your arm, giving a small smile. "I'ma head outside for a bit. Kinda warm."

"Yeah, ok. See you later!", Angel waves as you leave.

Shit shit shit shit shit-

You slammed the door to the roof open and groaned. "God! What was I thinking!? I mean, I did fine! The crowd cheering was the result of that-", you began to spill out your thoughts while walking in a circle.

The wind was cold and loud, but it was better than being in a stuffy room with sweaty demons. It was loud enough for you to not hear the roof door opening.

As you turned to do another round of circles, you bumped into someone's chest. "Oof-!"

"Careful darling.", hands were placed on your upper arms. "Wouldn't want you walking off the edge.", a familiar static-y voice says.

Oh fuck, abort-!

You look up to find the demon that holds your affections, Alastor.

"Hey..", you smile and do a small wave while you're screaming in your head.

"You did wonderfully! I didn't know you could sing, it was quite the surprise! I thoroughly enjoyed your performance.", he says, now holding your hands.

"Oh, thanks. I-I never really sing around others, not my favorite thing.", you say shyly with a shrug and look to the side.

"Oh? I wonder what gave you the courage to do so tonight.", he looks at you with a grin.

You feel your face heat up and let out a sigh.

Now or never.

"Um, Alastor?", you turn to look at him again.

The red dressed demon hums and tilts his head.

"The song I sang tonight.. It.. It was for you.", you quickly look down at the ground. "I've had feelings for you for the longest time and I sang just for you tonight! You were the only one I was singing for!", you closed your eyes tight, waiting for his response.

Oh god, I'm gonna die from this damn heart!

"Look at me.", he says softly, with his hands now holding your face and tilting your head up.

You open your eyes slowly, looking up at him. Heart racing, faster than when you were on stage.

He smiles, a really nice wide but soft smile.

Fuck, I wanna kiss him-Shut up brain!

"Je veux ton amour, et je veux ta revache, je veux ton amour~", he sings, leaning in.

You blush and feel your heart skip, eyes wide.

"I'd like to have a "bad romance", as you've sung earlier.", Alastor says, looking into your eyes. "May I kiss you?"

Hell yeah.

You nod, not trusting your voice.

His smile widens and he put his lips to yours, tilting his head to the side as he does so.

Holy fuck, it's happening. Everybody stay calm! What's the procedure? Stay fucking calm!

Your fingers twitch and you move your hands to place them over his, beginning to kiss back. He holds you closer, putting an arm around you and keeps one on your cheek. You adjust youself to get comfortable in his hold.

This was the best night you've ever had in Hell.

This song cover was great to listen to. Gave me punk rock vibes.

~Seline, the person.

ML for Alastor🎙

#x reader #gn reader #alastor x reader #song lyrics #hazbin alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor #alastor the radio demon #the radio demon #punk reader #the office reference #stay fucking calm #hazbin hotel #angel dust hazbin hotel #hazbin charlie #hazbin vaggie #hazbin hotel fanfiction

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love-strawberry · 3 years ago

Text

drinks in nyc

summary : in which they both release songs about their love and it isn't enough.

pairing : harry styles x reader

warnings : language

author's note : heyyy!! it's been a while since i wrote something and why not break my hiatus with an angsty social media au lmao but ANYWAYS, here you go!! crazier things by chelsea cutler and noah kahan and supercuts by jeremy zucker!!

tagged : @ellora-brekker @slut4benbarnes @0oolookitsme

masterlist

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liked by niallhoran, conangray, selenagomez and 4,529,528 others

y/n_ 'until you met me' out everywhere!! this song is one of the most heartbreaking songs on the album and i hope you all like it!! thank you so much for supporting me!! <3

94,528 comments

username omg im crying

username the way she referred to the things in her relationship with harry

username 'i know you always fell out of love so damn easily' wow-

username 'until you met me, drinks in new york city,' she met harry in nyc,,, 'think i fell in love before i even knew your birthday' harry said in an interview that she didn't know when his birthday was until long after they started dating,,, 'kissed you on the first date,' need i say more

niallhoran 🤍 so beautiful!! loved it

username i miss harry and y/n so much

username she looks so heartbroken and sad in her recent pics :(

username masterpiece

username 'lightning strikes just once, not twice' when you realise that she's saying that the chances of their paths crossing again is none to very little :(

louist91 loved it so much!! can't wait for your album!!

arianagrande ❤️❤️❤️

username her friends supporting her>>>

username okay but her voice 🛐

username can't wait for the mv!!!

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liked by louist91, dualipa, harry_lambert and 4,829,629 others

harrystyles i had a great time performing my new single 'supercuts', thank you so much new york city.

98,629 comments

username omg we got a new song

username 'cause i don't wanna be someone you makes you happy and then lets you down'

username the voice crack when he sang 'don't need you to console me' :(

username anyone could tell he was faking smiles

jefezoff amazing song mate!!

username the way that 'started something that we're just gonna end, wonder if we would be better as friends' hurt me

username the raw emotion in his voice

username y/n was at every single one of his shows during their relationship and the fact that she still showed up yesterday even after their break up keeps me up at night

niallhoran such a beautiful song, keep it up!!

zayn it's a great song harry!! khai loves the music!!

username the boys supporting him>>

username i really wish (yourshipname) gets back together

username the music :) the lyrics :(

username he's an amazing artist!!

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liked by tchalamet, taylorswift, arianagrande and 4,825,528 others

y/n_ my second album, drinks in nyc out now!! you all have no idea how excited i am for you you to listen to this. every single song is precious and close to my heart, and i'm so excited!!! thank you all SO much for you support and love, i appreciate and cherish each one of you!! thank you <3

99,629 comments

username OMGOMGOMG

username this album is gonna be my favourite

username her lyrics are so beautiful

username i know i need therapy when my favourite song is all your perfects

arianagrande AHHHH SUCH A BEAUTIFUL ALBUM

oliviarodrigo AHDKANHSKSLAM MOM I LOVE THIS AND I LOVE YOU

gracieabrams im not crying nope, not even a little bit

username almost all of these songs are for harry :(

username i miss harry's comments on her posts

louist91 i love this so much!!

niallhoran my fav album till date

username im sobbing

username it's 3am for me, don't make me cry

username all of these songs are perfect?? like how??

username the way 'things we never said' crushed my heart

username she's a lyrical genius and anyone who things otherwise can choke

taylorswift i love love love love love this!! such an amazing album!!

username her friends are so supportive

----------

liked by jefezoff, mitchrowland, billieeilish and 4,925,428 others

harrystyles harry's house out may 20.

102,528 comments

username OMGOMGOMG IM GONNA CRY

username can't wait!!!!

jefezoff !!!!!!

username can't wait to see how many songs are gonna be about y/n

username 'love of my life' i-

username 🛐🛐🛐

mitchrowland can't waitttt!!!

liampayne so excited for this!! it's gonna be amazing

username i miss when y/n used to freak out about new music

username it's gonna be a masterpiece

username y/n and harry releasing albums>>>>anything

niallhoran so pumped for this!!!

username he looks so good here

username wow wow wow wow wow wow wow wow wow wow wow wow wow wow wow wow wow wow wow wow wow wow wow wow wow wow wow wow

username SO FUCKING EXCITED

louist91 🤍🤍🤍

username i miss one direction

username 🦋🦋🦋

----------

#social media au #social media imagines #social media fics #harry styles fluff #harry styles instagram #harry styles angst #harry styles imagines #harry styles au #harry's house #harry styles social media au #harry styles social media #fake social media au #social media #harry styles fake social media #harry styles fake ig #harry styles fake instagram

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lexosaurus · 2 years ago

Text

Everything Was White: Part 18

[see all chapters]

read on: [ao3] [ffn]

Summary: After being accidentally revealed to the public and taken away by the government, Danny deals with the aftermath of his time with the GiW.

---

There was a video in the morning. A hidden paparazzi camera, he found out. The video was sold to TMZ and subsequently reuploaded to every social media site within the hour.

“Danny Fenton can walk?!” was the caption of the one Danny was currently watching on TikTok. It was a video of him approaching the stairs, and—ugh—struggling to climb them. He could see Tucker’s (fake) smile and Sam’s concerned oversight. His legs wobbled as they ascended each step, his gate abnormal.

And as internet culture dictated, the comments were sure to point everything out.

ok but why do his legs look like that 💀💀💀

>don’t be gross, he’s clearly got some medical issues

My cousin is paraplegic and Danny walks similar to him.

Y’all are freaking out like there aren’t videos of him already in physical therapy 🤦

Wtf happened to him?

I know this isn’t supposed to be funny but it kind of is

>stfu he’s a minor

>>So? He’s a celebrity, he can take it

These comments are horrible. This kid clearly got abused during his imprisonment and has suffered lasting damage, and there are people here who think it’s funny because he walks differently now? That’s disgusting, and as a disabled person myself, it’s horrible to see so many comments and likes making fun of him. Surprise, disabilities affecting motor function make people look different when they perform said motor functions. Grow up.

Danny pinched the bridge of his nose. This was exactly what he was afraid of. It was the entire reason why he had been avoiding walking in public.

He hadn’t even seen anyone around them. Had someone followed the van all the way to Tucker's house? Did this mean that Tucker and his family were going to get stalked too?

Ugh, ugh! This was horrible. And now he had to go to school where everyone would have seen that video too?

Fuck.

He peeked out his window, and beyond the recently installed tall fence lining the property, Danny could see a circle of paparazzi and media vans parked along the sidewalk.

This was insanity. It wasn’t like this was the first video of him walking in general; there were videos and pictures of him at PT. Sure, he was being supported by the other physical therapists and equipment, but he was still walking. It just happened that this was the first video taken of him in public, which Danny guessed was enough for the algorithms to grab hold of.

His family was so lucky the neighbors seemed understanding of the media circus that was now their life. Although, Jazz had mentioned bringing cookies over to a few of them before…

“It’ll die down,” Danny reminded himself. “Once they get bored, they’ll move on.”

But even that sounded like a lie the more he said it. Because unless another half-ghost stepped into the public eye, it didn’t seem like there would be anyone to take the spotlight off of him anytime soon.

He checked Twitter and…yep, he was the top trending topic on there too.

Fucking hell, did no one have anything better to do?

His inbox was flooded, and his notifications were worse. Danny was glad he had turned off all social media alerts on his phone ages ago. His phone would have probably caught on fire with the rate he was being tagged in tweets.

He closed his eyes and exhaled, breathing just like his therapist had taught him. In, two, three…out, two three.

Okay, so what if everyone knew what he looked like when he walked now? It wasn’t like he could keep this hidden forever. If anything, his physical therapists were probably just relieved he’d finally ripped the band-aid off because now he had no excuse to continue avoiding walking in public.

And was that really a bad thing? More practice meant strengthening his muscles, which meant that he would be closer and closer to ditching the walker for crutches.

He absentmindedly scrolled through his notifications, until one blue-checkmarked name caught his eye:

Izaak Adams @izaakadamsCongrats to @dannyphantom for kicking ass in PT! It’s amazing to see the progress you’ve made since I saw you last. Soon, you’ll be outpacing me! Keep working hard 💪

Danny frowned at the screen. Had that guy met him? As far as Danny remembered, he hadn’t met any celebrities since his release. Was this guy lying for clout or something?

Danny clicked on his profile and read his bio. “Paralympic Gold Medalist and Video Game Enthusiast”

Paralympic gold medalist? Why did that ring a bell?

Danny racked his memories for anything, but he drew a blank. Did he know this guy? Or maybe he was reading too much into this tweet?

A knuckle rapped on his door. “Danny?” came Jazz’s muffled voice. “You awake?”

Danny looked up. “Hey, Jazz? Do I know a guy named Izaak Adams?”

Jazz opened the door to reveal her baggy sweats and messy bun. “Huh?”

“Izaak Adams, a paralympic athlete?” Danny held up his phone. “He tweeted at me almost like we’ve met?”

Jazz’s confused frown was replaced by a look of surprise. “Yeah, I remember, you have met him!”

“Really? When?”

“At the hospital one time, he came to visit? When you were first learning to use your wheelchair.”

Fragments of that memory hit him, and on instinct, Danny cringed. Oh yeah, how could he have forgotten what an underweight, stuttering, dazed mess he’d been? Ugh, how embarrassing.

Jazz stifled a giggle. “Oh come on, it was cute! He was so supportive and patient.”

“Yeah, but—”

Jazz shot him a doting glare. “Danny, anyone looking at you could see that you were in intense recovery. I’m sure he wasn’t expecting the Phantom when he went to meet you. Cut yourself a bit of slack.”

Danny looked back down at his phone. “Yeah. You’re right.”

He contemplated what to do for a few seconds before an impulsive, teenage fuck it crossed his brain. He shrugged, opened the tweet, and hit reply.

Danny Phantom @dannyphantom Replying to @izaakadamsThank you for the support! Better watch out, I’m coming for your title as the gold medalist in Hospital Hallway Racing.

There. That was equal parts easygoing and funny enough to show the press and public alike that no, he wasn’t self-conscious about the way he looked, fuck off.

Jazz glanced down at her phone and snorted.

“Good response?” Danny guessed.

“Perfect. Now get ready for school!”

---

As expected, the police were escorting the paparazzi off the property when he arrived at Casper High that morning.

It wasn’t like Danny was able to use his walker at school anyway.

Still, the murmurs from classmates followed him into the building, and the sideways glances to outright stares trailed behind him in the halls.

Fantastic. Just when he thought his classmates might be getting used to him, the world had to backtrack. Part of him wanted to turn around and snark, “Fascinating news, guys, the elusive creature known as the halfa learned to walk! What an amazing step in evolution this was!” But he bit his tongue. His wit wasn’t worth whatever backlash the internet would make of it.

Danny rounded the corner and spotted Sam and Tucker hanging around their lockers. Their fight and the weight of Sam’s unresponded text were still fresh in his mind, but he took a deep breath and pressed forward.

“Hey, guys,” Danny said awkwardly.

They turned around, apprehension etched on their faces.

“Hey, Danny. What’s up?” Tucker asked.

If Sam looked desperate to say something, Danny wasn’t going to entertain her. “Nothing. My morning’s been uneventful as usual.”

Tucker fidgeted with his cap, looking sheepish. “I honestly didn’t see anyone around yesterday. They must have been hiding behind the bushes or something.”

“It’s fine, Tuck,” Danny said. “It’s not like this wasn’t going to happen soon anyway. And besides, the—the embarrassing part is done now.”

“It’s not embarrassing, Danny,” Sam rebuked. “It’s admirable if anything. The comments I’ve seen have been very supportive.”

“Sure, some of them.”

“Most of them.”

“Sam, I appreciate the pep talk, but it’s fine. Really.” When Sam’s adamant expression refused to let up, Danny reiterated, “It’s fine. There are other—other videos of me walking online. This is just the one every–everyone saw. I don’t care.”

“Good.” Tucker closed his locker door. “In an incredibly important change of topic, we never saw the new Dead Teacher movie!”

“You guys didn’t watch it?” Danny asked.

Tucker gave Danny an incredulous look. “Without you?”

“I don’t know, I figured me being out of commission was enough of an excuse.”

“Did you not read my texts? I said we weren’t gonna watch it without you. Really, Danny, do you think so low of me?”

Danny tapped into his bullshit meter, trying to gauge if Tucker was lying—it wouldn’t be the first time—but for once, nothing pinged his radar.

“We should just marathon the whole series now that they’re all on Netflix,” Sam said. “You guys can come over next weekend and we can play them in my home theater.”

“You, Sam, have a truly wonderful brain,” Tucker said.

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll believe it when you can say that while eating a salad.”

“Don’t push it, woman.”

“That’s what I thought.” Sam rolled her eyes and turned to Danny. “You up for it?”

Danny hesitated, his hold on his wheelchair tightening. “I thought I wasn’t allowed at your house?”

“Yeah, but you’re a—oh…right. I forgot.” Sam slapped her hand to her forehead and groaned. “Damn, I forgot you don’t have your powers still. Shit, sorry, guys.”

“I don’t have a fancy home system or anything, but you guys can come over to my place,” Tucker offered.

“Thanks, Tuck,” Sam said.

Out of the corner of his eye, Danny saw Principal Ishiyama stare at him for a moment too long before scurrying down the hall.

Weird.

He tried to shake the uncomfortable squirming in his gut. “Yeah, Tuck, sounds good.”

“And this time…” Tucker leaned down cheekily. “Maybe you can try to not kill yourself getting to my bedroom.”

Sam and Danny both reacted immediately, shouting a chorus of “Tucker!” and “Dude!” They briefly made eye contact before Tucker’s evil cackling snapped Danny back to focus.

“That’s a cheap shot! No fair!” Danny moaned. “You can’t—this—this is bullying.”

If anything, Tucker grinned wider. “Fine, then next time I won’t save your sorry ass from a life of embarrassment the next time you try to launch yourself to the top step because you’re too lazy to climb up the stairs.”

“You have a lot of stairs!”

“My house has a perfectly reasonable amount of stairs.”

“No, I call foul,” Danny protested. “You’re literally picking on the disabled kid. Unreal.”

Tucker patted Danny’s shoulder. “Sure, okay, ghost boy.”

“That was a very dangerous move, though, Danny,” Sam said. “You could have fallen.”

“Eh, cut him some slack. Walkers are really annoying.”

“Don’t encourage this, Tucker!”

“I got your back, Danny.”

But Danny wasn’t paying attention to them anymore. Something else had caught his attention. A deep laugh, one so familiar it had sent a shockwave of ice shooting through his veins. If it weren’t for the chip, he was sure he’d be covered in ecto-frost.

He stared across the hallway, his breath frozen in his throat. Time slowed around him, and the conversational voices of Sam and Tucker melted away into the background.

No...it couldn’t be…

He must have been hallucinating. His mind was playing tricks on him. There was just no way that he was actually here in the hallway of Casper High.

No way it was true.

But it was.

There, in full view of the entire student body, was Operative O himself. His white suit gleamed against the dull cream and red of the high school. He stood against a row of lockers with his chest out, sunglasses covering his eyes, and a smirk splayed on his lips as he conversed with Principal Ishiyama.

No.

Danny needed to run away. Flee. Get out of sight.

But he couldn’t. It was as if his wheelchair was cemented to the ground. He was trapped, staring at the man who had made it his life’s work to ruin Danny’s.

It wasn’t real. It couldn’t be real.

Operative O’s head turned until it locked onto Danny. His smirk widened and his sunglasses positively glistened. He brought a hand up above his shoulders and waggled his fingers at Danny.

Fear was replaced by hot anger. That bastard was waving as if he and Danny were longtime friends.

“Hey, Danny?” Tucker poked his shoulder. “Isn’t that…?”

The unsaid question hung in the air like a dark cloud.

Sam’s expression hardened. “What are they doing here?”

But Danny was seething. His stomach churned in fury, and the corners of his vision tinged green. Adrenaline spiked in his veins, and he could feel his core screaming against its restraints.

Before he could so much as think, Danny was whizzing down the hall. When he got close enough, he abandoned his wheelchair altogether, pushing himself up and gripping onto the lockers for support for the final few steps. Ishiyama gave him a warning look, along with a subtle shake of her head, but Danny wasn’t listening to her.

If it weren’t for this fucking chip, he probably would have transformed into Phantom right in the middle of the damn hall.

“What the hell are you doing?” Danny hissed. Despite his fury, his palms were clammy against the metal lockers.

“Why if it isn’t Danny Phantom. What a coincidence it is to see you here.”

Operative O’s slimy voice pierced him at once, and Danny nearly crumpled to the ground. Memories came rushing back, transporting him far away to a dark, musty place where the air smelled putrid and his skin was wet and sticky. Where he never knew what time it was, where his stomach felt sick with hunger, where he begged for anyone to find him, rescue him.

“I’m doing a routine inspection. Your school installed ecto-shields, and it’s my job to make sure they’re working properly. Nothing that concerns you,” Operative O purred, leaning in to pull what appeared like a dog tag on a silver chain from his pocket. “And might I congratulate you on how wonderful it is to see you walking again. If we were back at the research center, I would even give you a little treat.”

Danny’s blood ran cold, and he stopped breathing.

Operative O chuckled, standing back up and slipping the chain out of sight. “Now if you don’t mind, Ishiyama, I’d like to see those shields you mentioned…”

Danny’s ears rang, that laugh echoing over and over like a broken vinyl. He looked up, but Mr. Lancer had inserted himself in front of Danny, blocking O from view. The world tilted, and Danny gave up. He rested his head on the locker just in time for Sam and Tucker to catch up with him, their voices muddying into the background. The world was spinning, the entire hallway was probably watching, and Danny was just trying not to throw up.

A heavy hand fell on his back, and Danny barely caught the low murmur in his ear. “...my office?”

Danny nodded, not sure what he was agreeing to, but just knowing he had about five seconds to get out of the hallway before he was going to faint on the floor.

Thankfully, the hands were strong, and they held him upright as they guided him forward. Sam grabbed his arm, steadying him as well. Mr. Lancer said something, and Danny recognized Sam’s protesting tone in her response, but Lancer’s voice was sharper.

Sam huffed and squeezed his arm, and then his friends were gone just in time for what sounded like helicopters to womp in his ears and the spinning to reach a climax. He was pushed through the door and immediately felt his hand hit something behind him.

Danny collapsed onto his wheelchair and gasped, taking his first breath of air in too long. But his throat tightened again and he panicked, trying to breathe through the coffee straw that was his lungs.

A hand once again landed on his back, and a voice spoke soothingly into his ear.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Mr. Lancer said.

Danny shook his head and clawed at his shirt. Was his shirt choking him? Had the Operatives drugged him again? Is that why the world was spinning, why his arms were shaking so violently?

“It’s okay. Breathe, you’re okay.”

Danny clutched at his core, demanding whatever flickering bit of invisibility he could muster at whatever limbs were the closest. He couldn’t cloak his entire body in it, but the small whispers of his core powers were just enough to not send him into a complete meltdown.

“Why?” Danny finally gasped out. “Why?”

Mr. Lancer didn’t answer. Danny didn’t know if this was because he didn’t actually know the answer or if he just felt like Danny shouldn’t hear it.

Danny’s throat squeezed tighter. He glanced down at his bag and could feel the weight of the emergency pills. He was desperate for one. But he couldn’t, not in Lancer’s office.

Mr. Lancer pulled his chair beside Danny and sat down. He kept his voice low, whispering “it’s alright, it’s okay” as he waited for Danny to get himself under control.

But as soon as the dizziness ceased and the world righted again, Danny’s ragged breaths melted into sobs.

He bent forward, hiding his face in his hands. He could taste the ghost of the red bag on his tongue, and he could feel the plastic tube being shoved down his throat, cutting off his oxygen supply as it reached for his stomach. He felt the pain in his back, his chest, the phantom nerves in his legs firing off any way they could.

He felt Operative O thread his fingers down his torso, exploring the blank canvas prime to decorate with green.

“I didn’t want it,” Danny choked out. “I…”

His stomach turned, and he clamped his hands over his mouth, gagging.

Mr. Lancer was quick to react, shoving a waste bin under Danny’s chin just in time for Danny to empty the contents of his breakfast into it.

Mr. Lancer’s hand was on his back, rubbing circles as Danny’s head lurched forward once again. He coughed, spitting bile and stomach acid into the bin. The warmth in his body had never felt so uncomfortable before, so dizzying.

Danny shook his head, mumbling, “I didn’t want it.”

“I know,” Mr. Lancer responded quietly.

“I didn’t—I just—I just wanted the granola bars. It wasn’t my—” Danny choked on his voice. He shook his head, trying to force out the memories that flickered past the back of his eyes.

He just needed to reach his hand out and grab the granola bar. That’s all he needed to do. So why couldn’t he do it? Why did his mistake cost him the last shred of the dignity he was still clutching onto?

A fresh wave of tears fell from Danny’s eyes. “I—I’m not…” I’m not a dog, he wanted to scream, but he couldn’t.

Because he would be lying if he said he truly believed it.

“I’m sorry,” he said instead. Because he was sorry, truly, for continuing to be a burden on Mr. Lancer, a teacher Danny had spent the past two years disappointing over and over, a teacher who’d been forced to babysit him in detention dozens of times, a teacher who had now twice had to deal with him being an emotional fuckup.

“You have nothing to apologize for.”

But that was a big fat fucking lie if Danny had ever heard one. And he should know, he was the master of lying.

---

His parents didn’t try to make him talk when they picked him up from school that day.

Danny was too busy staring out the window unseeing to talk anyway.

He didn’t remember getting inside. Couldn’t remember transferring out of the car or going into his house.

Maybe he should’ve been thankful that the wheelchair was autonomous now. Or whatever his doctor would tell him.

He blinked, and he was on the couch with a throw blanket over his body. Jazz was next to him, staring at the television as some reality show played. Danny’s gaze followed hers, and he didn’t miss the way her eyes noticed his movement. But he didn’t acknowledge her. Instead, he much preferred to watch…

…

What was he doing?

There was this stillness over his body, in his mind. It was…quiet. Light.

It was nice.

He recognized this feeling. This lightness in his limbs, the calm in his body. The lack of pain, lack of burning from his nerves and muscles.

It was just. Relaxation. Pure tranquility.

He remembered then, the emergency pill he managed to sneak while Lancer and his parents slipped into another room to talk. And then a different pill his parents handed him moments later.

One that he’d taken while he was shaking, his body in shock, desperate for an ounce of relief.

When the world stopped, it was euphoric. The fog returned, blanketing his mind and shielding him from the realities just outside the door. He relaxed, accepting the fog like a long-lost brother. It stayed with him for hours, and he cherished every second of their time together, but now it was bidding adieu.

But this time, the loss didn’t seem so bad. There was no pain, no stress. It was only the calm with no storm to follow.

He closed his eyes and sank into the couch. He was tired, and the cushions and blankets felt so nice. He wasn’t in the cell—not even close—he was home with his sister. Safe, protected.

“Thanks, Jazz,” he murmured.

She didn’t respond, but he knew she heard him.

“What show’s on?”

“Survivor,” she said. “A rerun. Not sure which season.”

“Oh. Okay.”

The television droned on, and Danny heard the contestants bickering about…something or other.

Heh. That sucked for them.

“M’sorry.” Danny yawned. “Sorry for…you know…I hope I didn’t ruin your day. You babysitting me.”

“It’s fine, Danny, It’s not your fault. They shouldn’t have been there.”

“I don’t know…it sounds like they could be there.”

He heard Jazz shift beside him, and his eyes peeked open to see her attention fully diverted from the show.

“Danny—”

“Where’s Mom and Dad?”

“They’re with the lawyer.”

“Okay.” Danny’s eyelids felt heavy, and wisps of his core tickled his chest. “I need the chip out.”

She was quiet again.

“You understand why,” Danny said.

“I do.”

“I need Mom and Dad to—to remove it. If they don’t…”

“I wish I could help,” she said quietly.

“Then convince them. They won’t listen to me, I’m a ghost. You heard them, remember? I’m…my Obsession is influencing my brain. And…” He looked at the ceiling. “And, well, maybe it is. But Operative—the Guys in White were still there today. And I…I think I’ve seen them before today too. I thought I was…but no, I think it was them.”

Tears glittered in Jazz’s eyes.

“You have to convince them for me.”

“I’ll try my best. We can talk to them tonight together.”

Danny shook his head. “It’ll never work if I’m there. They think I’m crazy.”

“They don’t think that.”

“They’re scared of me. Or, the half of me they don’t like.”

“No.” Jazz wiped her eyes with her sleeves. “No, that’s not true.”

“I’m not deaf, Jazz. I heard them. Remember?”

“They love you so much, Danny. I promise. They’re scared for you.”

“What’s there to be scared for?” Danny pressed his finger into his thighs, feeling only the strange sensation of pressure in return. “It’s not like…I don’t know, it’s not like I’m banned from—banned from existing. That’s what the court case was all about, right?”

“Right.”

“And I’ve been in therapy for months. I go there every day. They know I’m not going to—to hurt myself.”

Jazz pressed her lips into a thin line. “I know.”

“So why don’t they?”

“This summer was…” She sighed. “This summer was hard, Danny. We’d all do it all over again if it meant getting you under legal protection, but the period you were gone? That was—it—” Her voice broke. “Not knowing if you were alive or dead, not hearing a word about you for weeks? That was terrifying. The last thing we remembered was you being carted off by the Guys in White and SWAT teams, knocked out, electrocuted, and then you were gone. Just like that. And when you were finally brought back to us…”

His eyes felt too dry for once. His body was too calm to rewake that pain.

“I know—I know it was so much worse for you. I know our experiences outside don’t even begin to compare to yours. I understand, and they do too. But in the flash of an eye, their entire world changed. They’re coping.”

“Their coping is going to get me killed, though.”

“The government can’t touch you.”

Anxious Danny might have snapped at that. But Anxious Danny wasn’t here right now. He continued in the same bland tone as before, “You have no idea what the government is capable of.”

Jazz’s expression tightened.

“If their reasoning for not giving me back control over my core is—is just that this summer was hard for them, then that’s a shit excuse. And it’s going to get me killed. That’s really—really…that’s really it.”

“I know. I’m not making excuses, I’m just explaining what’s going through their heads.”

“Then you need to talk to them. Because at—at this point, I’ve said everything I can.”

Jazz mopped at her face again, nodding. “I know.”

Danny reached his hand out, gently lowering it to her arm. He felt her stiffen before her free hand shot down to clutch his.

She was trembling.

“I need you, Jazz. You’re…you’re my sister. I need you to be on my side right now.”

“I am. I’ll try. We can bring it up tonight as a united front. I’ll lead the conversation.”

He gave her arm a gentle squeeze before breaking off the contact. He sank back into the cushions, closing his eyes. “Thanks.”

Jazz sniffled beside him.

---

Dinner was a quiet affair that evening. The painkillers had worn off, and Danny was itching to escape upstairs to lie down.

But Maddie insisted that he eat, so he picked at his bowl of noodles, not bothering to hide the fact that he really didn’t feel like putting anything down his throat at the moment.

Thankfully, his parents didn’t seem to want to fight him tonight.

“So…” Danny started.

Maddie took the bait. “We met with the lawyer today.”

“Okay, and?”

At Maddie’s despondent look, Jack took over, placing his hand on hers. “The government can’t touch you legally. We want to make that very clear. No matter what, they can’t take you.”

“But…” Danny prompted.

“But as far as everything else goes, at this current moment, we can’t do anything about them showing up in the same buildings as you.”

Danny wanted to laugh. Or cry.

Or both.

“We tried to file a no-contact or a restraining order,” Maddie said. “But due to the current laws, we can’t get anything. If the agents physically hurt you, then we might have a case. But unfortunately, as of right now, our hands are tied.”

“Nothing can be done,” Danny muttered numbly.

“I’m sorry, son,” Jack said. “We’re going to continue to see what other paths we can take. We won’t give up, I promise.”

Danny had always known that the Guys in White weren’t finished with him, that they were on a mission to cleanse the world of all things ecto. He knew that no matter where he went, they would follow.

But it still hurt to hear.

“So that’s it,” Danny said. “I just have to wait till they hurt me in front of everyone.”

“We’ll never let it get to that point,” Maddie said.

Danny shook his head, his eyes staring blankly at the table. “Okay.”

Because what could he say to that? He couldn’t just pretend like this was fine, like he was fine with this. Because that would have been so insane of a lie that not even his dad would have bought it.

Jazz’s eyes flickered between them. “There’s also the other thing we talked about before dinner, Mom.”

“I know.” Maddie looked to Jack for support. He gave a solemn nod, and she pressed forward, despite looking like she’d rather do anything else. “We know that your…halfa psychology makes situations like these difficult for you emotionally.”

Danny’s mood darkened instinctively. Any mention of his ghostly Obsession with his parents had a tendency to turn sour.

“I know that things haven’t exactly gone the way you’ve wanted them to. And I hope you understand that everything we’ve done has been for you and your safety.”

Yeah, because I’m so ‘safe’ that I can’t even defend myself, Danny internally quipped.

“We know that…protection…is something that’s important to you. And Mr. Lancer said that you, um, struggled after the confrontation,” Maddie said.

“I had a breakdown,” Danny stated, his dead tone surprising himself.

“Right,” Maddie said awkwardly.

“Jazz mentioned that the situation has gone directly against your core,” Jack said. “And we’re worried about that too.”

There was one way they could fix this, but Danny wasn’t going to be the one to say it. They knew what he was thinking.

Maddie sighed. “We were wondering if there was anything that you wanted to talk to us about. About this, your core, any of it.”

Danny didn’t let a single muscle twitch in his face. No way did they deserve a clue—not after they were the reason that Danny was completely defenseless against the Guys in White today.

They sat at the kitchen table listening to the hum of the fridge. The grandfather clock that Jack had built ticked on, each click seeming louder than the last.

And finally, Danny shrugged.

“Well,” Jazz said. “I think Danny has done a really good job at upholding his end of the bargain. And now we’re at a point where continuing in this trajectory is going to actively hurt his progress in therapy.”

“And we agree to a certain extent. But honey…”

“But nothing, Mom. We’ve talked about this: Danny is as much of a human as he is a ghost. It’s not fair to him or his psychology that he’s spent months without access to his core. And with the government making bolder moves such as this, it’s important to Danny—and me too—that he is secure.”

Danny didn’t like being talked about as if he were a test subject, but if this was what it took to get his core back, then so be it.

“The government is not going to touch him. Not unless they want to be sued to hell and back for violating court orders,” Maddie said.

Oh, he could scream.

“I’m not talking about that; I’m talking about how this affects Danny’s mental health. The whole point of the chip was to give him the safety he needed to heal, but the issue is that now the chip is actively interfering with the entire reason it was created.”

“But to go from zero to full powers right now…” Maddie drifted off.

Jack nodded. “I agree, it’s too much.”

“Well, you guys are the scientists. Figure out a way to adjust the power level on the chip, then.”

Danny’s eyes narrowed, snapping to Jazz. Just what in the world was she saying?

Jack pondered her proposition. “That’s not a bad idea, actually.”

“I know.” Jazz leaned back and folded her arms in that annoying fashion she did when she thought she’d won.

“Hun, I don’t even think that’s possible. To access those mechanics on the chip, we’d need to extract it from Danny,” Maddie said.

“Maybe!” Jack snapped his fingers. “This chip might not be flexible, but I bet we could build one that was! And we’d be able to remotely configure it!”

Immediately, Danny felt sick.

Apparently, Maddie didn’t, judging by the way her eyes lit up. “And then we could even program it to slowly fade its power levels! Oh, Jack, that’s brilliant.”

“Aren’t you glad you have such a genius for a husband?”

“I am!”

“Don’t worry, son, we’ll get you fixed up in no time!” Jack gave him a thumbs up.

Danny was careful to not let the mask slip from his face and betray how truly revolted he was by this plan.

A chip that let his parents remotely set how much control over his core he had? He couldn’t think of anything more dystopian.

Perhaps noticing his silence, Maddie prompted, “Honey?”

“I don’t know what you want me to say,” Danny admitted.

“You can say anything on your mind, dear. This is…we’re a team.”

Even as she said those words that had been repeated so many times before, her voice sounded unconfident.

Danny could have laughed at the irony.

“You already know what I’m going to say.” Danny’s eyes traveled up from the table until they pierced hers. “There’s nothing else.”

“Yes, and you understand why we can’t just give you free rein of your ghost powers, right?” she asked.

No.

“Yes.”

“And you know that—that you’re still safe, right? You’re still protected in the meantime?” Maddie asked.

He wasn’t safe.

“Yes, I know.”

“The law is final, son,” Jack said gently. “They can intimidate you all they want, but they will never be able to touch you at all.”

“Sure.”

“And pretty soon, you’ll start to have your powers back. Okay?” Maddie said.

Danny looked away. “I was just scared. That was all.”

---

Danny glared at the name on his screen. Never in his wildest dreams could he ever have imagined he would be willingly seeking this scum of the Earth out, but he had no other choice.

He was down to his last few pills, and with the escalating boldness of the Guys in White, there was no way he was going to make it out of this intact.

Grumbling for the tenth time, he pressed the call button and brought the phone to his ear.

Later on, he would be disgusted at how quickly Vlad picked up the phone. “Daniel!” he said, his voice too cheerful. “What a lovely surprise!”

“Yeah, lovely.” Danny’s tone was anything but.

“To what do I owe this pleasure? Does your mother miss me?”

Danny closed his eyes, remembering Vlad’s warning about his calls being tapped.

“Gross, no, shut up about my mom. I’m…I need help. With a school project.”

He could feel Vlad’s grin on the other end of the line. “A school project, you say? That seems a bit bland of a request.”

“In—in science. I had an idea, but I need resources. And you’re…rich.”

“Science? My, that is interesting! If you don’t mind me asking, Little Badger, why not just ask your parents for assistance?”

Cocky bastard.

“I feel bad. They’ve—they’ve done a lot for me, and…I know they’re busy. They were meeting with the lawyer today, and I just don’t want to—to bother them. With this. And I know you…from your college days, you have experience and your old gadgets still.”

“Surely your parents have some old gadgets in their shed you can toy with.”

“Most of those are fried. You know how my dad gets.” He knew that Vlad was just trying to pick at any loophole in their conversation, and he needed to play along, as much as he hated it. “I wan–wanted to show the school that I’m okay. You know? They have me in these—the Learning Center, and I wanted to prove I can handle real classes again. I need something to impress them. Especially after today, I just…I don’t want them to think I can’t—I can’t handle myself.”

There was a brief moment of silence on the other line before Vlad hummed. “I see. Well, you know I am a very busy man, Daniel.”

“Yes, but…”

“However, I suppose since you reached out, I would be delighted to help my favorite nephew with his assignment. Does tomorrow after school work for you? I can pick you up if so.”

Danny’s eyes widened. “Yeah. That’s fine, I don’t have PT. There—it’s just that I’m under…I get picked up by my mom.”

“I see. So would I have to contact the school to pick you up instead?”

“No, I don’t—I don’t think so. I think I can ask my mom.”

“Alright, well, hopefully dear Maddie and my old friend Jack won’t be too jealous that you’ve asked me to help you rather than them. Do tell your mother hello for me, alright?”

“Whatever,” Danny grumbled. Then, remembering the code, he slapped a fake smile on his lips and bared his teeth into the receiver, “Thank you, Vlad! I’ll see you tomorrow!”

“Ta!”

---

previous / next

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Thanks so much for @imekitty for doing beta work while mid-NaNoWriMo. That is insane so please appreciate her thank you 💚

#danny phantom #fanfiction #dp fic #phandom #everything was white #my writing #midpoint time babes!!!

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winningxshowtime · 3 years ago

Text

okay so there's a lot to address in the wxs main story but i want to talk abt the sekai and specifically tsukasa's feelings towards it.

Tsukasa is the only leader of a sekai to go into the sekai and be in terrible denial about it. Sure everyone thinks it's a dream and even he thinks that at first, and then he skips to "That didn't even happen". It's implied with the other leaders that they know it happened on some form, whether dream or physical but he straight up denies it.

This leads to the last image, his repression of trauma.

It's pretty fucking severe.

We all know Tsukasa is putting on a fake bravado that is just a lie on top of excuses on top of lies. He but he tries to justify this with a "half-truth" because Tsukasa DOES want to be the world's #1 star but that is not his primary goal. That is not why he wants to be the worlds #1 star. He does this with everything he wants to ignore. The show was a failure due to NeneRobo running out of battery? Technically it is Nene's fault. Emu hired him specifically to make shows but he doesn't really like the stage? Ignore Emu until threatened to perform with her, and even then make remarks about the stage.

Now how does this connect with his sekai? I hear you say "Oh well because his sekai is everything he's repressed" and you're right. His sekai is the manifestation of everything he didn't want to remember unlike every other group. Ichika wanted her best friends back, Kohane wanted to be brave like An, Minori was determined to be an idol and worked her hardest, and Kanade just wanted to save people. Now of course these are shallow versions of the true depth of why their sekais exist but you see the point. Everything in Tsukasa's sekai is a reminder of how much of a failure he is and how he was never enough. He couldn't save his sister, he couldn't keep her friend group from falling apart, and he couldn't make anyone happy. Until he started doing shows and while it wasn't saving anyone, it made them happy.

Tsukasa's happiness is based on everyone else's happiness despite the front he puts on. If he were truly that shallow narcissist that Rui said he was he wouldn't have apologized. He would've kept making excuses. You can say "but he only wanted the rest of wxs back because he was lonely" and SURE! Yeah i'd be pretty fucking lonely too but also he notices that what he did to Nene was wrong. What he did to Emu was wrong. What he put Rui through was wrong. Character growth, everyone.

So, how did this sekai make it worse for him when obviously it made him remember what he wanted? Why he wanted?

Because as much as you lie to yourself you can never escape the truth. It will always find you. This sekai is a sickening reminder of that.

Tsukasa was scared of the truth, he was scared to remember how useless he once was and how pitiful he was. I'd like to bet he knew this upon entering the sekai. Or at least, it the sekai felt uncomfortable. Tsukasa is scared of the sekai and hates being in it every second until he has to go there for help. Until he finally accepts the fact that he didn't want to just be the worlds #1 star. He wanted to help people too.

Tsukasa Tenma is a horribly traumatized teenager who won't admit it because the events that traumatized him weren't focused around him. Which is why he's such a good big brother to Saki because on some level he gets it. He understands how the hospital affected her. But he would never admit that if not for the sekai.

It's the spiral of "but they had it worse". Saki was sick she had it worse, her friend group broke up: they had it worse, and on and on and on it goes. Not to even mention the level of pushing people away this guy does. It's kind of fucking insane.

He pushed away Nene, he pushed away Rui, he pushed away Emu. All after pushing his own sister away. Sure he still talked to her but they weren't, close. He built walls so nobody would know and then Hatsune Fucking Miku decided to rip those down.

This is why Tsukasa Tenma is a good character. Maybe this isn't what Sega had in mind when making him but it's what I saw in him.

#project sekai #tsukasa tenma #LONG POST sorry everyone i have been thinking about this since I read their story back in early dec #fuck sega btw he's my character now #and i hope he gets to be angry about it soon

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avintagekiss24 · 3 years ago

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Hi! I don't want to start anything on here and am always willing for civil conversations. At this point there's so much I've found out about Seb (besides the video he liked, the tommy lee thing, and the girlfriend thing) that I feel so guilty if I would continue to support him. I love him sm but it just doesn't look good rn. He is associated/follows an organisation (for helping veterans) that has posted a blue lives matter flag picture and who's co-founder has sexual assault allegations against him, and worked with him in 'The last full measure'. His friend Paul Walter Hauser has done blackface in the past, and when called out on it he just listed a few people that also did blackface. There's more, I found a discussion on here that I can link. I seriously don't support "cancel culture" bc I don't think it helps anyone but there are just a lot of 'mistakes' and shady people that can be linked to Seb, I wish it wouldn't be that way. I honestly don't know what to think about it anymore.

Hi! I’m also open to having civil conversations and I don’t believe you’re trying to start anything. I really do think this situation of dragging up a four year old video and taking it completely out of context is harmful not just to Black people, but to fandom/activism in general. This is gonna be long because I’m going to take your points one by one, and I want to preface this by saying that I will not answer any derogatory, sideways asks pertaining to this subject. I will delete every single one and will block your silly ass. I’m not going to argue with people who think I’m blindly supporting Sebastian because I’m just trying to get fucked by him, or people who think I hate myself and am trying to appease some white man.

So, on with the discourse!

The video he liked - this video was taken completely out of context and that is my main issue with this whole situation. It was not a video of a white man saying that he thinks he should be able to say the n word as everyone claimed it was. They were quickly debating on whether or not it's okay to say in rap lyrics. He was told no, that's not okay, that's never okay and they moved on from it. That's it. End of story. That somehow was twisted into a click bait style headline of "Sebastian Stan likes a video of a white man defending his right to say the n word" when that is absolutely not true. My other issue is that people are more upset that Sebastian liked the video than they are about the white man in the video literally saying the n word. So, do you really care about the use of the n word like you're claiming? Cuz if you do, you'd be more upset at the white man that said the word than you would be about the white man simply liking the video. Or, are you just using this as an excuse to grandstand against a white man you don't like?

The Tommy Lee thing - Sebastian Stan playing Tommy Lee does not make Sebastian Stan a bad person. Is Charlize Theron a bad person for playing Aileen Wuornos, a prostitute who started murdering men? Is Leonardo DiCaprio a bad person for playing a slave owner? Is Edward Norton a bad person for playing a nazi sympathizing racist? Actors play bad people. That doesn't mean that they themselves are bad people. 1990's Tommy Lee was a bad person, but that should have no bearing on who Sebastian Stan is or his character as a man.

The gf/Paul Walter Hauser thing - Why are we holding Sebastian accountable for what the people around him are doing? Again, why are we more upset that Sebastian is associated with people who have done questionable things than the specific people themselves? I'm not going to speak on the kimono wearing -- I'm not Asian. It's not my place to say whether or not its offensive because it's not my culture, but she posted that picture and attended that party before she started dating Sebastian, quite possibly before she even knew him. Same with Paul. I think that black face thing was long before he knew Sebastian. Now, if Sebastian was defending these actions, going around saying "I think it's okay for white women to wear Kimono's" "I think black face is fine" "I think white people should be able to say the n word" then we'd have a different story, wouldn't we? But that's not what we have, and that's not what he is doing. He is not responsible for the things his friends do or have done in the past just because he's more famous than they are, and he is not required to speak on them. Let's put it this way -- would you be comfortable having to be responsible for something a friend of yours did before you knew them? Would you want to have to be forced to answer for your friend when you yourself had nothing to do with the questionable behavior?

The organization that supports the military/blue lives matter - Sebastian cannot control what message that foundation puts out and it does not mean that he is or is not pro-police himself. There is not enough concrete evidence -- if any evidence for that matter -- that Sebastian is a blue lives matter supporter. Did Sebastian donate before they put up the blue lives matter post? Or after? I don’t know, cuz I don’t follow him that closely, but if he donates before they come out with a particular stance, that means he should be held accountable for that? I know I donated to an organization once and they turned out to support something that i’m 100% against. That means I’m a bad person because I couldn’t see into the future? Another point, how can we be certain that Sebastian saw the blue lives matter post in the first place? I know I’m not online 24 hrs a day, I miss posts all the time and I’m just an average person. I make three or four tumblr posts a day, and I’m gone. I have to play catch up on social media, and even then, I still miss stuff. So I’m sure the same happens to a working actor. As for the co-founder, I don't know who this person is and would rather not get into any allegations against them because I don't want to trigger anyone who comes across this post. If Sebastian knows about these allegations, is a willing participant/supporter of this person then yeah, that's pretty shitty, but we don't know the inner workings of this friendship/acquaintance/work relationship. We don’t know how close they are or if they even still speak.

I’m a pretty big fan of Don Cheadle. He’s a stand up guy, he’s a great actor, he’s funny, he’s political and stands up for what he believes in and in a very public way. I support him. Don Cheadle is also friends with Chris Evans, RDJ, Mark Ruffalo, and Letitia Wright (just to name a few). Chris Evans has a bipartisan forum that highlights/promotes right wing politicians, RDJ defended Chris Pratt during the whole “he’s the worst Chris in Hollywood” crap, who’s technically done black face, and who once said to a female reporter “nice tits” when she walked into the room, Mark Ruffalo just walked back his support of Palestine, and Letitia Wright retweeted/supported an anti-vaxxer/anti-trans Pastor who equated an ingredient of the covid vaccine to the devil because it contained some parts of the word Lucifer. Does that mean Don is now a bad person because he’s friends with these people? Why isn’t he getting any heat for his friendships with them? Why isn’t he being held accountable for what they’ve done and said? Oh right, because he’s not a white fave. So people don’t care one way or the other, which brings me to my next point.

I can guarantee you that if Sebastian’s gf or Paul or this co-founder were not associated with Sebastian in any way, nobody would give a shit about her wearing a kimono, about Paul doing black face, or about the co-founder/organization being blue lives matter supporters and in that lies the actual problem. Being critical of people and their actions should be consistent and should happen all the time -- not just when they interact with your white fave. That’s when it becomes performative and looks like you just want to be able to show internet people that you follow/support/stan unproblematic celebrities, when really, you don’t care.

I think the moral of this post is that I think it's unfair to hold a complete stranger to a standard that I cannot hold myself to. I also don't view celebrities the way most teenagers/twenty somethings do, and that’s because when I entered fandom we didn't have social media, so I grew up with a wall between myself and said celebrities. There is no wall now with the presence of social media. "Fans" nowadays have a weird ownership feeling over celebrities because they can read their personal thoughts or view personal pictures and think that they have this personal quasi-friendship with them. I can't get on board with that. I prefer having the wall and I still keep the wall.

If supporting Sebastian makes you uncomfortable, then by all means, stop supporting him. Just make sure you are making this decision for yourself based on credible sources and concrete evidence and that you're not letting this fake woke activist mob make you feel uncomfortable. Internet activism means nothing unless you put your money where your mouth is in your real life and 90% of the social justice internet warriors do not. Real activism is bigger than changing your avi to a black square.

#asks #answered #sebastian stan

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criminalmindzjunkie · 4 years ago

Text

Love Sick

Masterlist

Summary: A story about how Spencer’s worst decision ever somehow ends up being his best.

A/N: Happy Valentine’s Day, my loves! This fic is loosely based on a request I got about Spencer faking an illness to keep the reader from going on a date.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Content Warning: swearing

Word Count: 4k

Spencer has done a terrible, awful thing.

He wants to argue that he doesn’t know what came over him, but that would be untrue and he’s already met today’s quota on little white lies. Spencer knows exactly what possessed him to call you up at seven thirty on a Saturday night, and it wasn’t so that the two of you could discuss the weather or the recent upward trend in the stock market. Spencer’s spontaneous (panicked) phone call to you was a brazen attempt to abate the green-eyed monster that had been whispering dreadful things in his ear for the better part of a week.

To put it simply; Spencer is jealous, and he’s dealing with it rather poorly.

So poorly that he’s resorted to sabotage.

As he sits on his couch and worries at a hole in the bottom of his designated lounging sweatshirt, Spencer attempts to justify his actions. His tiny fib won’t hurt anyone . . . except, perhaps, one annoyingly perfect and stupidly handsome veterinarian. But Spencer can live with that. Potentially scorning an animal care specialist isn’t the thing that has his stomach in knots. That, he can live with. Spencer doesn’t even have pets, so there’s no longterm consequences as far as the vet is concerned. The notion of lying to you, on the other hand?

Spencer is positively sick with nerves.

He’s not sure why. Spencer’s gotten rather good at lying to you. Several months of pining for you from across the hallway of your shared apartment complex has turned him into quite the master of deceit, after all. He was a sucker from the moment he opened his door and lay his eyes on you, arms outstretched and wielding a plate of homemade sweets. The cookies were lovely, but the breathtaking smile on your face is what really did him in.

Since that first day, Spencer’s gone out of his way to ensure that he’s on the receiving end of that smile as often as possible. His efforts are never in vain; for reasons unbeknownst to him, you seem to enjoy spending time with him just as much as he did you. This mutual fondness results in most of Spencer’s off days being spent in your company. Spencer was certain that, with time, he would work up the nerve to ask you out on a date. He’s halfway to convincing himself that you might even say yes when your cat makes the unfortunate decision to steal a brownie from your plate and gulp the whole thing down.

Enter, aforementioned veterinarian.

The sound of your door opening from across the hall has Spencer breaking out into a cold sweat. His hand is halfway to his forehead, ready to wipe away the perspiration when he pauses. His body’s anxious reaction might just help him sell his story. Yes, Spencer thinks, this is a good thing. Authenticity, and all that.

Several soft footsteps are muffled by the door that separates him from you, and then his doorknob jiggles as you struggle to fit your key into the lock. A jolt of adrenaline surges through Spencer and in the blink of an eye he’s on his feet and sprinting to his bathroom in the name of authenticity. If he wants to keep up this ridiculous façade, and he really, really does, Spencer is prepared to fake it until he makes it. The alternative is far too mortifying. Failure is not an option.

Spencer cringes when he lifts his eyes to meet his reflection. He’s been told more than once that he’s an absolutely terrible liar, and the wide, guilty eyes that stare back at him confirm this. All it will take is one look at him and you’ll know something’s amiss. Perhaps it isn’t too late for Spencer to come clean. It would be embarrassing, yeah, but no less embarrassing than it would be an hour from now when you call him on his shit. But then again, there is always the possibility that you will get angry with him and leave, and Spencer isn’t willing to risk you walking away from him. Not tonight.

Spencer barely has the time to splash some cold water on his face and dive to the bathroom floor before you’re pushing open the door to his apartment and calling out his name. His brain, the part that isn’t rendered useless in his panicked state, reminds him of just how many germs can be found on the average bathroom floor. It’s enough to make him pause, but only for a moment. He takes a deep breath before slumping over against the toilet.

Showtime.

“M’ in here,” Spencer calls out in his croakiest voice. It comes out exactly as he intended, all rough and pitiful. Maybe he can pull this off, after all.

The soft pitter patter of your bare feet makes his heart rate increase exponentially. Spencer steels himself, recites a reassuring mantra in his head. I can do this; I can do this.

Spencer’s poor, overworked heart gets a much-needed rest when you step into the doorway. In fact, he’s almost certain it stops completely at the sight of you in a tiny red dress. A tiny red dress that leaves very little to the imagination. Spencer can’t even see past his mounting panic to enjoy the way you look. That damn red dress serves as a brutal reminder of why he’s sitting in his bathroom floor, clutching his toilet bowl and damn near drowning in a nervous sweat.

The thing is, Spencer hadn’t intended on sabotaging your date with the vet. He had every intention of staying in, wallowing in his sorrows and waiting up for you. Spencer even said this to Derek, who was kind enough to call him and remind him of how big of a jackass he was. Spencer didn’t need the reminder. He was well aware.

But then Derek said something that made Spencer’s blood run cold.

“And what exactly do you plan to do if she doesn’t come home?”

So, really, it’s Derek’s fault that Spencer promptly ended the call and dialed your number. It’s also Derek’s fault that Spencer is about to give the most convincing performance of his entire fucking life.

“I’m sorry I called you, but I didn’t know what else to do. I just feel so awful.” And he does feel awful, just not in the way you think.

You’re quick to close the distance between the two of you, dropping to your knees and brushing stray pieces of hair away from Spencer’s clammy forehead. His skin sings where your hand grazes it. If he didn’t have a fever before, he will if you don’t stop touching him.

“Don’t ever apologize, Spence. I wish you’d have called me sooner,” you murmur. Warm, concerned eyes drag across Spencer’s bedraggled appearance. “How long have you been feeling sick?”

Spencer gulps. “A few hours, I guess. I ate my leftovers from last night for lunch. Maybe that’s what’s wrong.”Lies, lies, lies!

Your brow furrows. “That’s strange. I ate mine, too, and I feel fine.”

Spencer doesn’t really have an argument for that, so he fakes a pained groan and rests his head against his arm. He closes his eyes and prays the intro to theater class he took in high school will pay off.

You must deem his act convincing enough because you press a soft kiss to the top of his hair and stand. Spencer hears the sound of a cabinet opening, followed by the sound of running water.

The tender touch of your hand on his shoulder has him raising his head and looking up at you, inquisitive. You place a cold washrag to his forehead, and Spencer melts into the touch. It feels heavenly against his hot skin.

“Do you think you could manage to take a shower?” you prompt, earning a feeble nod from Spencer. He doesn’t even have to fake the way he trembles as you run the damp cloth down his neck. “I think I have some broccoli and cheddar soup at my apartment. I’ll go change and grab it while you shower.”

Elation spreads through Spencer, pouring from his heart until it reaches the very tips of his extremities. He can’t believe his scheme hasn’t blown up in his face already.

With the help of your outstretched hand, Spencer rises to his feet and braces himself against the shower door. You make no move to remove your hand from his, and that gives him the courage to ask his next question.

“What about your date?”

You shrug and an easy smile spreads across your face. Spencer feels faint. He blames it on his imaginary illness.

“Don’t worry about that. The only thing I’m concerned with right now is taking care of you.”

Spencer bites down hard on the flesh of his cheek to keep a smug grin at bay. This is a victory he’ll have to celebrate at a later date.

Spencer enters his living room, freshly showered and donned in clean pajamas, to the sound of your voice speaking quietly into your cellphone. He halts just before he enters his kitchen, straining to catch a snippet of your conversation. As he leans closer to the sound of your voice, Spencer halfheartedly chastises himself. First, he deceives you, now he’s resorting to eavesdropping. Rock, meet bottom.

He’s just about to wrench himself away and retreat to the couch, when:

“I really am sorry about cancelling, especially on such short notice.” A short stretch of silence follows. “Next Saturday? Oh. Um, yeah, I’ll let you know, okay?”

Spencer is very much like a popped balloon; the earlier feelings of elation leave him in a harsh gust. Next Saturday? He barely managed to derail this Saturday’s date! No way he could get away with it a second time.

In the midst of his inner turmoil, Spencer misses you exchanging goodbyes with the vet before collecting Spencer’s bowl of soup. He’s still standing there, absolutely crestfallen, when you round the corner. You nearly collide with his chest, narrowly avoiding it by skidding to a halt in front of him. Your eyes run up his frame, assessing him, until they rest on his face.

“You scared me, Spence,” you chuckle. You cock your head to the side. Spencer imagines his expression is none dissimilar to that of a disgruntled frog. “You feeling okay? You’re not going to puke again, are you?”

Honestly, he might. The idea of you rescheduling your date with the vet is about as vomit inducing as it gets.

“I’m fine,” Spencer says on an exhale. Funnily, it’s probably the biggest lie he’s told all day. “The shower helped.”

His delivery is flat, but you don’t seem to mind. You smile up at him, relieved, and Spencer’s chest aches.

“I was thinking you and I could watch a movie?” you offer, and Spencer nods his assent. He can’t fathom turning you down. Not when you’re wearing an old sweatshirt you stole from his closet and a pair of fuzzy socks with little hearts on them. The ache intensifies.

“What are we watching?”

You plop down on the couch and look at him expectantly. He follows in suit, settling in beside you.

“I was thinking that you could choose,” you murmur as you place the bowl in his hands. Spencer shoots a teasing smile your way as he raises the spoon to his mouth.

“You mean, you’re actually going to let me pick the movie? I should get sick more often.”

His cheek earns him an exaggerated roll of your eyes.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” you mutter. “You always pick the movie.”

He can count on one hand the amount of times he’s gotten to pick the movie.

Spencer is about to launch into an impassioned rebuttal when the feeling of your fingers scratching against his scalp renders him speechless. His eyes dart to your face as you concentrate on scrolling through the TV guide, seemingly unaware of the effect the simple act has on him. Meanwhile, Spencer’s brain is short-circuiting.

You begin to read off a list of potential movies to him, but Spencer barely hears you. He’s practically purring as you twirl his curls around lithe fingers, his eyes threatening to flutter closed as an intense feeling of euphoria washes over him. Maybe it’s because he’s touch starved, or maybe it’s because it’s been so long since someone just looked after him. Whatever it is, Spencer embraces it wholeheartedly.

“-heard it’s pretty good. So, what do you say, Spence?”

Spencer pulls himself back to the present, blinking lazily at you. You’re looking at him, expectant, and Spencer’s eyes flit to the TV. His eyes skim its contents, reading briefly about a movie in which some family moves into a haunted house.

His face breaks out into a grin and he nods, because Spencer’s known you long enough to recognize that watching a horror movie usually results in you pressed tightly to his side and clinging to his hand. He also knows that nine times out of ten, you choose to watch a horror movie over anything else. No wonder he always lets you choose.

And sure enough, not even ten minutes in, Spencer is ditching his bowl of soup and pulling you into his arms. Once you’ve draped a blanket around the two of you settled in, you glance up at him.

“How are you feeling, Spence?”

Spencer responds by saying that he’s suddenly feeling much better.

Spencer Reid - 1, Veterinarian – 0

Spencer’s not sure at which point he fell asleep. All he knows is that he certainly does not remember sprawling out across your body, nor does he remember tucking his head into the crook of your neck. But this is how he finds himself when the sun begins to pour in through his windows the next morning, and Spencer can’t bring himself to care about how he came to be there.

Spencer guesstimates that it’s no later than seven in the morning. You’re still fast asleep underneath him, your chest rising and falling rhythmically with every breath. It’s early, and it’s Sunday, and Spencer can’t think of a single reason to wake you. Instead, he snuggles in closer, because he’d be a fool not to enjoy this while it lasts.

Unfortunately, the shrill sound of Spencer’s ringing phone shatters the serenity. He prays that it won’t disturb you, that you’ll remain oblivious and continue to sleep, but that hope is shattered when you begin to shift underneath him. Spencer makes quick work of peeling himself off of you before dashing to his kitchen and snatching his phone off the table.

He’s prepared to verbally assault whoever has the audacity to defile the sanctity of lazy Sunday mornings when a quick peek into the living room finds you still fast asleep on his sofa. He smiles, soft and fond, before pressing the accept button and bringing the phone to his ear.

“Hello?”

“I was beginning to wonder if you were still alive.” Spencer’s smile transforms into a grimace. Apparently, Derek Morgan doesn’t believe in lie-ins. “I was preparing myself for a rescue mission.”

“It’s seven in the morning. I was asleep.”

Derek lets out a low whistle. “Who pissed in your Cheerios, Pretty Boy?”

“You, when you decided that it was acceptable to ring me before eight,” Spencer whisper shouts. He knows that he’s being touchy, to say the least, but who can blame him? Five minutes ago, he was cuddling with the most beautiful girl he’s ever had the privilege to lay eyes on. Now, he’s shooting the breeze with a colleague. Obviously, Spencer would prefer the former to the latter.

“Jesus, kid. I’m going to take a wild guess and say that girl of yours didn’t make it home, after all. You okay?”

The guilty feeling returns and Spencer cringes. “Uh, define ‘okay.’”

Derek curses on the other end of the line. “I’m sorry, kid. Try not to beat yourself up about it, okay? There’s plenty of fish in the sea, you’ve just gotta put yourself out there. How’s this; you and me will go out next weekend and bar hop. I’ll teach you some Derek Morgan tricks of the trade. Soon enough, you’ll have forgotten all about her.”

“I don’t know, that might be hard.” Spencer scratches the back of his neck. “She’s asleep on my couch right now.”

A long stretch of silence comes from the other end of the line, and Spencer thinks for a moment that the call dropped. Unfortunately, he isn’t that lucky. A booming laugh erupts from the speaker and makes him jump out of his skin.

“My man!” Derek laughs, incredulous. “I didn’t think you had it in you, I’ll be honest.”

“It’s not what you think-”

“How did you manage that? Did the Good Doctor make a grand romantic gesture? Damn, I really hate that I missed that.”

“No, there were no gestures. And it’s not-”

Derek cuts him off. Again. “How’d she take the news? I’m assuming she took it well, if she stayed the night.”

“I didn’t tell her anything!” Spencer spits out, frustrated. “I… I told her I was sick. She came over to take care of me, and we fell asleep on the couch.”

Spencer’s proclamation is met with another long silence.

“So, you sabotaged the date?”

Spencer winces. “I did not sabotage it. I just… manipulated the situation a little.”

“Oh, you certainly did,” Derek chuckles. “How did you pull that off? I’ve seen you try to lie. That shit is laughable.”

Spencer opens his mouth to defend himself, but the pitter patter of socked feet approaching him from behind has his mouth running dry.

“Yeah, Spencer. How did you pull that off?”

Spencer had been correct in his earlier assumptions. The inevitable moment in which you called him out on his shit has arrived, and it’s every bit as mortifying as he expected. So mortifying that he can practically feel the blood drain from his face. And the thing is that he knows he deserves whatever you’re about to throw his way… it’s just that the thought of you being angry with him kind of makes him want to cry. And that would only add to the mortification.

He turns around slowly, his body rigid, until he’s met with the adorably rumpled vision of you with your arms crossed and your hair sticking up in all directions.

Spencer’s never seen anything quite so mesmerizing, and it hurts because he knows he’s ruined everything. He’ll never get to watch another scary movie with you tucked neatly against his side, or wake up in your arms again. He’ll never get to kiss you.

And the worst of all; Spencer will never get to tell you how he really feels. It’s a crying shame, because he thinks he could have been really good at loving you.

“Hey, Derek, I gotta go.”

Spencer presses the end call button and immerses himself in what has to be the most awkward stand-off of all time. You stand there, arms crossed, head cocked to the side with one hip jutted out. Spencer isn’t sure how you manage to look intimidating and endearing at the same time. He supposes the fuzzy socks are to blame.

Minutes pass, but they feel like hours. Spencer is approximately three seconds away from dropping to his knees and groveling when you finally speak.

“You sabotaged my date.”

Spencer lets out a strangled laugh. Perhaps humor is the way to go? It couldn’t hurt to try. In his opinion, the situation couldn’t possibly get any worse. “I think sabotage is a strong word. I prefer the term obstruct.”

You let loose a laugh of your own, but this one holds no humor. “And I prefer keeping the company of people who don’t lie to me.” Okay, maybe it can get worse.

Spencer visibly deflates. It was a stupid idea. He’s never been a funny guy.

“I am so, so, so incredibly sorry.” Sorry for lying to you, that is. Spencer isn’t in the least bit apologetic for ruining your date. Given the chance, he’d do it again - in a more tactful way, of course. Preferably, in such a way that didn’t involve him laying in his bathroom floor.

Spencer attempts to take a step forward, only to be rooted to the spot when you fix him with a look. He’s not funny but he is smart – smart enough to know better than to push it.

“Why did you do it?”

Spencer was really hoping you wouldn’t ask that.

“I-I…”

Apparently, an eidetic memory doesn’t stand a chance when it comes to confrontations involving pretty girls. One quirk of an immaculately plucked eyebrow and Spencer loses the ability to recall a single word of the English language. It’s tragic, really.

“Spit it out, Spencer.”

“I didn’t want you to go on the date.” It’s like ripping off a band aid, the way the words tumble from his lips. It’s painless at first, but then the sting sets in when he realizes what he’s done.

Your lack of reaction doesn’t help. Your face remains passive, as if he didn’t just offer himself to you on a silver platter. Spencer squirms uncomfortably.

“Why didn’t you want me to go on the date?”

God, this is excruciating. You’re clearly out for blood, and the twinkle in your eye shows just how much you’re enjoying this. Spencer would have never taken you for a sadist.

“Because…” Spencer trails off and allows his eyes to drift closed. If he’s going to do this, he’s going to do it his way. With his eyes closed, because he can’t bear the thought of looking you in the eye when you reject him. “B-Because I like you. A lot.”

Spencer hasn’t had a lot of practice at being wrong. In fact, he’s spent the majority of his life being right. It seems the universe is making up for that now, because he can’t seem to get a single goddamn thing right today.

You laugh at him. You actually laugh in his face. Mortified doesn’t even begin to cover it.

“You like me.” It isn’t a question.

Spencer keeps his eyes shut tight.

“Y-Yeah.”

You know how they say if you take away one of a person’s senses, all of the others are heightened? Spencer couldn’t disagree more. In the midst of his despair, he’s completely unaware that you’ve crossed the room and are now standing directly in front of him until you speak again.

“Well, that’s rather unfortunate,” you sigh. Spencer inhales a sharp breath when he realizes you’re close enough to touch. Still, he keeps his eyes closed.

“Uh, why is that?”

Spencer nearly jumps out of his skin when your hand reaches up and caresses the side of his jaw.

“Because, Spencer,” you murmur, silky and sweet. “I was hoping you just might love me.”

Spencer’s eyes fly open and he’s greeted by a lazy, contented smile. It’s similar to the one that greeted him when he opened his front door on that very first day, but it’s better somehow. Later reflection will determine that it’s better because it’s the kind of smile reserved just for him. And that’s all he’s ever wanted, really.

“W-What?”

“You heard me.” You tilt your head up and rest your palm on Spencer’s chest. His heartbeat is erratic, thundering hard against his ribcage. He’d surely be embarrassed if he wasn’t about to faint from shock. “Do you love me, Spencer Reid?”

Spencer doesn’t even have to think twice.

“More than anything.”

“Good.” Your thumb brushes across the apple of his cheek, eliciting a full body shudder. “I was beginning to think you would never catch up.”

Spencer must be hallucinating. That, or this is all a dream and any second now his alarm is going to go off. He subtly pinches himself on the thigh to test the theory. You can imagine his surprise when nothing changes. He doesn’t wake up in a pile of his own drool, and now the skin on his thigh stings.

“You . . . You like me, too?”

You shake your head. “No, Spencer. I love you, too. Why do you think I bake you cookies and spend all of my free time in your apartment?”

“Because my couch is better than yours?” Spencer deadpans.

“I mean, that certainly doesn’t hurt. But it’s not the only reason.”

“What about the vet?” It must be his guilty conscious talking, because Spencer cannot conjure up any other reason he has for asking such a moronic question. He, personally, could not care less about the vet. Full offense intended.

“Cameron is a nice guy, sure,” you trail off. Spencer doesn’t miss the way your eyes drift down to his lips before returning to his eyes. “But he’s not really my type.”

“And what is your type, exactly?” A giddy grin finds its way to Spencer’s face. He’s notorious for being chronically clueless, but even the master of imperception himself can see where this is going.

You snort, and it’s adorable. “Liars, apparently.”

It’s impossible to determine who moves first, but that doesn’t really matter. What does matter is the end result of Spencer’s lips colliding with yours. It’s earth-shatteringly lovely; slow and sweet and tentative. There’s no rushing, no frantic fumbling of hands. Just the reverent drag of your lips against his, warm and intoxicating.

Spencer eventually regains the use of his limbs and when he does, he’s snaking one arm around your waist as the other entangles itself in your wonderfully unruly hair.

You sigh a happy sigh against his lips and Spencer’s heart soars. In a completely unforeseen turn of events, the possibility of more lazy Sunday mornings is now back on the table. Thank God he’s better at lying than he gave himself credit for.

God, and Derek Morgan’s meddling ass.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid self insert #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer x reader #spencer reid fluff

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hyperfixatedimagines · 3 years ago

Text

The Moon & Her Star Ch.4

Summary: You’re a star now, with all the eyes on you…so why do you still crave to be bathed in moonlight?

A/N: Quick short chapter to tide y’all over. I think I’m going to be extending this series to maybe about eight or ten chapters as I want to cover all of season one. Again if you have any requests feel free to drop me a line.

The week after opening night (y/n) had sought out a private moment with Luna.

Raving reviews in the school newspaper, and locally trending hashtags had made (y/n) a star on the rise. Now, everyone at Constance knew her name and said hello as she passed by. Now, she was surrounded by a posse of freshman girls who simply had to know how she’d done it. She had fans. And her Instagram follower count had skyrocketed. So (y/n) thought now was the time to ask Luna for another chance. Now they were on the same level…right?

Sure (y/n) was the theater department’s, moreover the whole arts program at Constance, darling and star but it would it be enough to date Luna La?

For weeks (y/n) tried to catch Luna alone to no avail. She was always with Julien or Monet. So in a desperate attempt to see her, (y/n) purposely got detention every day for a whole week. Which was all for nothing as she had not seen Luna. The following week she debating whether or not to keep getting detention since it seemed unlikely she’d see Luna, but (y/n) decided to give it one last try.

Monday afternoon she marched into Mr. Smith’s class for detention. (Y/N) opened the door to find Luna sitting by the windows, adjusting her hair as she tried to take a selfie. Her heart raced. She didn’t know if she should play it cool or not as they weren’t alone this time. So (y/n) sat a seat away, within reach but not too close.

Luna noticed (y/n) and put her phone down. She wasn’t sure what to do. Sure, (y/n) was somewhat popular now but she was still poor. Despite (y/n)’s talent she still came from the wrong side of the city. Luna wanted nothing more than to jump into (y/n)’s arms but she didn’t have the privilege of following her heart. So she continued to look at her phone, all the while looking at (y/n) from the edge of the camera.

Mr. Smith excused himself to the teacher’s lounge. Once he was gone the other kids relaxed and started talking amongst themselves. One girl even came up to sit next to (y/n), saying she was really blown away by (y/n)’s performance. The girl was obviously flirting and Luna found a certain green monster creeping up on her.

(Y/N) was not good with girls, so she had no idea the cute girl who had come to sit next to her was flirting.

“I really want to audition for the spring musical. Maybe you can tutor me?” The girl asked, leaning closer to (y/n) and twirling some of her hair in between her fingers.

(Y/n) nodded. “Yeah, did you audition this year? Maybe we could look at your tape and see what aspects we should focus on?”

The girl put her hand on (y/n)’s arm, and gave it a squeeze. “Thank you so much for your help (y/n). I’m so lucky someone as talented, and beautiful, as you would help me.”

Luna rolled her eyes. This girl was being so obvious and it looked like you had no clue…or were you just faking being oblivious? Were you trying to make Luna jealous? Now she wasn’t so sure. It didn’t sound like you but on the other hand Luna couldn’t believe you were really that dense.

(Y/n) blushed. “You’re so sweet thank you.”

The girl tucked a lock of stray hair behind (y/n)’s ear. “Are you seeing anyone? I’d love to take you to dinner sometime?”

Luna packed up her things. She couldn’t bear to hear this girl flirt with you any longer. She put her things away and got up to move when she head your reply.

“I’m not seeing anyone at the moment but…my heart belongs to someone else. Sorry.”

Luna couldn’t help but smile. She turned to you, and the girl next to you, and stuck her hand out. “(Y/n) come with me to the bathroom. I don’t want professor Wick to catch me and give me another day of detention.”

(Y/N) nodded. “Okay,” she said and took Luna’s hand.

Luna lead her out. (Y/n) turned back to the girl and called out.

“If you still want my help I’m free on Wednesdays.”

The girl scoffed and walked back to her original seat.

The walk to the bathroom was quiet.

Neither of them knew exactly how to start the conversation. Luna had impulsively asked for (y/n)’s company but didn’t know how to talk to her.

They never really talked.

Once inside the bathroom Luna checked to make sure they were alone then locked the door. (Y/n) stood next to the sinks and cleared her throat.

“I’m guessing you aren’t actually worried about professor Wick?”

Luna let out a laugh. “My parents had a talk with him last week. It’s actually Mr. Smith who gave me detention earlier today.”

(Y/n) nodded.

Luna walked up to the sinks, next to (y/n) and started to touch up her makeup.

“So, you’re quite the star around here aren’t you?”

(Y/n) smiled halfheartedly. “I guess you could say that.”

Luna caught the look on (y/n)’s face out of the corner of her eye. “Stardom not quite what you thought it’d be?”

“I don’t know. I thought I’d be happy with all the positive attention but…..,” (y/n) let out a sigh. “It’s exhausting.”

“Life under the spotlight isn’t as easy as it looks,” Luna replied.

(Y/n) let out a laugh. “Ha, I know that now.” (Y/n) leaned against the wall and looked down at her shoes. “All this attention and the one person I want it from doesn’t ever look my way…no matter how great I am.”

Luna lowered her mascara wand. She stared down at the sink in silence. Deep down she knew she was too much of a coward to ever be with (y/n)…regardless of whatever talent (y/n) possessed.

“I’m sorry,” was all Luna could say.

(Y/n) stood up and straightened herself. “It’s fine. I was delusional to think being a theater star meant I could-“, she stopped herself.

She looked over at Luna and saw the tears falling down the sides of her face. (Y/n) grabbed a napkin and started to dab at Luna’s face.

“I’m sorry don’t cry I didn’t-,” (y/n) began but Luna cut (y/n) off with her lips.

(Y/n) would never get tired of kissing Luna La. The feel of Luna’s warm, supple lips against hers, and the taste of her peach lip gloss made (y/n)’s head spin.

They kissed…and they kept kissing.

Luna pushed (y/n) back against the wall, cupping (y/n)’s face.

(Y/n) wrapped her arms around Luna’s waist and pulled her close.

They kissed for so long they heard girls banging on the door for someone to unlock it but they didn’t care.

Luna didn’t want to stop, and for once she would indulge her desires. (Y/n) wouldn’t dare to quit.

It wasn’t until a janitor unlocked the door that the girls pulled apart. The janitor looked at them both and sighed.

“Ladies this is not a nightclub,” she said before kicking them out.

Luna grabbed her things and walked out, (y/n) not far behind. Once they had made it out to the courtyard they both burst out laughing. Luna grabbed onto (y/n)’s arm to steady herself as the laughs continued.

(Y/n) smiled and wiped a tear of laughter from Luna’s cheek. Luna stopped laughing and looked around.

There were students milling about. Some of them stopped to look at the two girls. Luna swallowed hard and took out her mirror. She took a tissue from her bag and fixed herself.

“You need to go,” she whispered.

(Y/n) furrowed her brow. “What? Why?”

Luna took her makeup bag out and reapplied. “Because people are staring and wondering why the two of us are laughing…why we’re even standing next to each other.”

“Right,” (y/n) said with a sigh. “Guess it was nice while it lasted.” She turned to leave.

“Wait,” Luna said, her voice just above a whisper. “Meet me at our place after school.”

“Why,” (y/n) replied, her back still towards Luna.

“Please (y/n),” was all Luna said before she put her things away and left.

(Y/n) walked to her locker, unsure if she should meet Luna. She had a feeling where things were headed and she didn’t want to be Luna’s secret girlfriend again. She wanted to be Luna’s girlfriend in front of the whole school. She wanted to shout from the rooftops how much she loved Luna La…she didn’t want a clandestine love affair.

As her lips tingled with the ghost of Luna’s lips (y/n) knew that she would do anything to be with Luna. Even if it meant being Luna’s dirty little secret.

#luna la imagine #gossip girl 2021 #gossip girl imagine #Luna La #zion moreno

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oro-e-diamanti · 3 years ago

Text

Quiet Music: Poco a poco forte

In collaboration with @bethanysnow (whose askbox is always open!)

Jealousy was never a good look with stardust in the other’s eyes. Boundaries are tested. Fantasies are made hot and heavy with some alcohol. Will they make it back to the hotel all in one piece?

Content | Fluff

Pairing | fem!Reader x Damiano

Word Count | 5845

Taglist | @damianodavide @lizstans @unitersmoonshine @its-afucking-mess @ethaneskin @dont-let-me-drown-in-you @vampirtet @lividisuigomiti @juststalking @tabi-toast @ethan-torchio-angelo @cheese-toastie-11 @thewitchinthemountain @ethanesimp @sofckinelectric @man3skin @daddydamiano @finelinejpm @superchrystaldrug @ginny-lily @nientedaridere @rainbowmarta @tiaamberxx @shaunthesheesh @enjcltaire @rocketqueen @aleksanderwh0r3 @damianodavidhands @megann-duff @teatrodellavita @coven-daddy @till-you-scream-and-cry @solasullabarca @fanfictionandfluff @makapaka11 @slave4yourlove @geklutst-ei @marriedwithmarktuan @bookish0918 @mehrmonga @kanevill @butterfly-skinnylegend @lidiyabest @killerqueen1985 @ccweasley @bluscryn @deluxeplanteater @ohtorchio @messyhairday-me @bidet-and-legolas @maybanksslut @fuckim-so-gay @demoiselle-en-detresse00 @petit-poussin @fedorable-killjoys @luvbadass @buttercup-beeee @navs-bhat @etaerealboyv @tryymebitch @mell-bell @fenhakwe @solacestyles @softforlukescurls @vicsangel @theimpossiblehologramtree

***

Copenhagen was a whirlwind that barely left any time to breathe. Even the short break Y/n was granted in between was promptly used to make a dash for the nearest tourist shop. Adding a fridge magnet to her growing collection. No misses so far. She’d be lying if she wasn’t proud of it. Victoria gave a little tour through the city, giving ample opportunity to provide the fans with content via various social media platforms. A mad scramble back to the venue, soundcheck, dinner. A gig full of little mishaps, including Ethan losing a drumstick halfway through and Damiano almost tumbling off stage. At least the crew had gotten into a groove, ‘new tour’ jitters finally forgotten. That night, at the hotel, Y/n had found herself standing outside her door, empty ice bucket in hand. Somewhat wondering, hoping, someone would join her. Not just anyone. Him. But she wouldn’t knock on his door and he didn’t come to hers. It wasn’t to be. At least not that night.

The morning had brought the band another wake-up call from Y/n. Everyone was starting to settle into their routine. Get ready, get on the bus, get handed coffee by Y/n. She would be lying if she said she wasn’t enjoying this little comfort of domestic bliss, taking care of the people she was starting to consider friends. It felt right.

***

Damiano’s morning wasn’t quite as peaceful. His thoughts were plagued by images of Y/n. His decision to ‘cool it’ and back off a little seemed to be biting him in the arse. When she had come around to wake him up, she had been in a partially sheer blouse, black jeans and boots and he thought she looked like the perfect little alternative housewife. Luring him out of bed with the promise of coffee and breakfast. Now he was sitting on the couch on the bus, watching Y/n fly around the little kitchenette and he couldn’t keep his eyes off her bum in those jeans.

Nope, he wasn’t going to do anything about it. Not now. The conversation with Victoria two nights ago was still ringing in his head. He had decided she was right - no use in pursuing anything unless he was certain what he was feeling and what he wanted out of it. He would still have enough time to make his move once he figured it out. Right? He didn’t know what Y/n was thinking. Or what she thought of him, so no use dwelling on it. Still the thought struck him, he barely knew anything about her. He should probably talk to her more. Infallible logic, he thought to himself. Backing off and talking to her at the same time. Great.

“Y/n… how do you usually take your coffee, by the way?”

“Lots of creamer, usually. Sometimes a bit of sugar, if I’m feeling fancy. Or if I’m feeling really fancy at a café, I might get a caramel macchiato.”

“Caramel is always nice.” Of course, she would like caramel, he thought to himself. “Do you normally drink coffee or are you more or stereotypical British tea drinker?”

“I enjoy a cuppa when I’m home, definitely. Italians aren’t exactly known for their tea now, are they?” A smirk appeared on her face, maybe a little baffled by the conversation, but happy to humour him. “Lady Gray is a particular favourite. Followed by breakfast tea with some sugar and milk. Before coffee. I can make you some tea sometime if you fancy?”

“That’d be great. You know, I just had an amazing idea actually,” Damiano grinned. “When we first went to Berlin, there was this amazing tea shop - would you want to go when we have the gig there?”

“That sounds lovely,” Y/n replied. “Of course.”

Another step closer to getting to know her.

***

“Right, we’ve all got an hour until soundcheck and some press things, I’m gonna go take Chili on her walk, you lot do whatever you want until then.”

Y/n had expected a few non-committal grunts, a wave, maybe a “see you later, I’ll go have a nap”, but instead, the whole band seemed to be on their highest energy levels. All of them immediately scrambled to their feet, looking for shoes and jackets, proclaiming they wanted to see the city, maybe take some pictures for Instagram along the way. Y/n wouldn’t dare complain about the company.

It didn’t take them long to reach the harbour, walking along the river as they enjoyed the bustle of town and the view. Y/n found herself pulling out her phone, telling everyone to gather around her.

“I’m no photographer, but I do need some memories of all of this. Thomas, stop pulling that face!” Thomas quickly dropped the grimace as she took the picture, the historic old town in the background. Chili was busy running around between the five of them, loving whoever gave her the attention the most. Y/n thought Victoria was reaching for the leash, already preparing to hand it over, but instead the bassist grabbed her hand. Obviously in a giddy mood, she began swinging their intertwined hands between them as they walked. Y/n couldn’t bite back a smile. She had missed having a close friend ever since she had moved to Italy leaving her best friend behind in the UK and she felt like this blossoming friendship with Victoria could truly begin to fill the void in her heart.

The blonde girl pulled her into a deep hug as Chili decided to go bother Ethan instead.

“I want a photo with just you,” Vic explained, pulling out her own phone for a snapshot. Y/n complied with a sigh but wrapped her arms around her, ready to take the picture. Right as the click went off, Victoria pressed a kiss to her cheek, taking her by surprise. Neither of them could hold back a giggle at her face in the photo.

“I’ve got a surprise for you, by the way,” Y/n spoke up as a little break in the conversation offered itself. If only to distract from the affection and it worked perfectly. All eyes and ears on her. “I’ve booked a little dinner for tonight. But not just any dinner. A burlesque one!”

The group let out various cheers. Thomas immediately ran ahead of the group, shamelessly faking a striptease as they kept walking. Damiano made sure to record the performance, already giggling to himself. Thomas was in the middle of shrugging off his jacket, walking backwards, when - ouch! - he bumped into a pole, heavily bonking his head. Everyone erupted into hysterical laughter, and after rubbing the back of his head with a pour for a moment, even the guitarist joined in.

“You alright?” Y/n asked breathlessly, trying to hide the giggles in her voice, genuinely concerned about him still.

“Besides the fact that I just got all of you to drop your panties for me? I’m great!” The blond grinned at his own joke, as everyone else rolled their eyes.

“Yes! Oh my god, take me Thomas!” Damiano gasped dramatically, pushing himself up against Thomas, who grabbed onto his leg to dip him.

“Wait! Hold on!” Y/n shouted, once again grabbing her phone as the captured the moment. “Now that’s one for the fridge.”

***

Backstage was business as usual. Y/n once again took the time to watch the band soundcheck, always feeling soft looking at the way they played without having to be ‘on’, without putting on a big performance. Yet, she was still in work mode, phone displaying the name of a reporter she was waiting on, along with the name of the magazine she was working for. It didn’t take long for her to appear.

The woman was undeniably beautiful. Thin figure, long, red hair, picture perfect makeup. Even her clothes were pressed, luxury brands decorating her, adding to the pristine image. A press pass hung around her neck, acrylic nails tapping something into her phone. Leaning back, Y/n noticed the particular red leather on the bottom of the woman’s heels.

It was only after putting her phone away that she acknowledged Y/n at all.

“Anywhere I can sit down with the band?” Her eyes barely even met Y/n’s.

“Uh, yeah, once they’re done with soundcheck, they will be in the greenroom,” Y/n said, mustering the woman. “You the reporter?”

“Sure, sure. Can I go there now, sit down, get ready?”

Y/n studied the press pass on the woman’s neck, making sure she was actually the person they were looking for and shrugged. “Alright, follow me.”

She led the reporter further backstage. The greenroom was fitted with a couch and a couple of chairs, a vanity in front of the mirror and makeup already carelessly thrown around. A costume rack in the back.

“Make yourself at home.”

“Thanks,” the woman muttered, looking around the room, obviously dissatisfied with it’s slightly chaotic state and - probably - lack of style. “That’s all I need you for, then.”

Y/n’s eye twitched, busying herself with the clothes, reorganising them to distract herself.

“Sorry to disappoint you, but rules are rules. Can’t be in a room alone, privacy reasons and all that. I’m sure you understand.”

“Well then.” She carefully placed herself on one of the chairs, highly aware of her posture, her face, and the fact that she’d be right in view of everybody entering the room. “Maybe you can be a bit of help, then. You know, a little insider information between us girls… How into the whole, you know, rock ‘n’ roll lifestyle are they really? I’m talking, drugs, alcohol… groupies?”

It was no question as to what she was hinting at.

“Well, Damiano has a whole tattoo verifying that he hates parties. Plus, they’re not really known for that kind of stuff. And for the interview, I’d rather you stick to the approved questions that your magazine has discussed with our management. There’s no ‘insider information’ here -” Y/n was about to talk herself into a whole rant, when the door opened and the band moved into the room, joyous and hyped for the show that evening.

Victoria was the first to bounce over to Y/n, kissing her cheek, before collapsing on the couch next to her. Ethan, Thomas and Damiano followed suit. Chili had followed the band, now hopping onto the couch and making herself comfortable on Y/n’s lap. Ethan looked over at the reporter, brow raised. “You here to do the interview?”

“Oh you know it,” she winked. Y/n didn’t miss how her whole demeanour had changed and she couldn’t have been more annoyed. “Lovely to meet you all.”

She held out her hand to Ethan, the smirk never leaving her face, before greeting the others in a similar fashion. She held onto Damiano’s hand much longer than the others.

“Nice to meet you,” Damiano said, politely, sitting down as well.

“Oh, that’s no trouble at all,” she beamed at the singer. “Now, you’re here in Hamburg today, and in the part of town most notorious for having Europe’s largest red light district. Do you feel like that’s the perfect background for your gig tonight? You know, with the music you play and the way you dress - it’s not like you’ve been shy about sex in your career so far.”

They all chuckled slightly.

“Well, sexuality isn’t something to be ashamed about, at least we don’t think so. It’s part of everyday life and part of our own experiences so we put that into music,” Victoria eloquently explained. “And what we’ve seen of the city so far has been very beautiful.”

“Well, maybe I should give you a little tour then, show you the naughty parts of town,” she laughed. “Back on topic though, I imagine touring can be hard, being away from everyone. Do you ever get lonely on tour? For friends or… something else?”

Damiano coughed. “Sure, we get lonely, like anyone else would. But we make a family out of the crew. Everyone on our team is very close to us.” Y/n could clearly see in his eyes that he knew full well what the woman was hinting at. “We love touring, so when you love something, it doesn’t feel like work.”

Ethan nodded in agreement. Y/n could see through all of them easily - none of them wanted to be there.

“Yes, of course, touring can be difficult, but we have fun, so not that bad,” Thomas added.

Y/n didn’t miss the way the reporter briefly looked over her shoulder to muster a reaction from her. “Well I’m sure you’re easily able to find some fun away from your… crew. Lots of parties on tour so far?”

At that point, Y/n was ready to rip the reporter to shreds. But she knew she had to stay professional, and the band was more than able to hold their own, so she stayed quiet. Ethan next to her sat up a little, obviously uncomfortable.

“No, we don’t party. No time.” His vision went dark as he looked at the woman in front of them. As kind and mindful as he usually was, he didn’t shy down when it came to showing his scarier side when he needed to.

“Yeah. We sometimes go to a bar on a day off, but that’s about it. Work is more important,” Victoria threw in as she put an arm around Ethan on the back of the couch.

Y/n felt a wave of pride at the way the band was holding up. It was absolutely no secret to her that they were desperately waiting for this interview to end, annoyed with the reporter and the lines she kept trying to cross, but they stayed polite and professional. She thought that this was what made them real rockstars in that moment.

“Okay, one more question, then. You entered this business really young, you still are, yet you write quite mature music, how do you manage that?”

“We write what we want to write. Perform how we want to perform. I don’t think that has an age limit,” Damiano spoke curtly. His eyes flickered over to their assistant. Y/n was sure he didn’t miss the way she was staring daggers into the back of the reporter’s skull. “And music has always been a passion of ours. We just got lucky really early in life, I guess.”

“Well thank you very much for your time,” the reporter said, standing up, and once again reaching out her hand to say her goodbyes. “Hope to see you around…” As she came to Damiano, Y/n didn’t miss how she stuffed a little note in his hand. “...hopefully.”

“Can I go kick her face now?” Y/n stood up, seething, as soon as the reporter had left the room. “Sorry, no, that’s actually rude. But I’m going to call management and report that woman.”

“Yeah, that… wasn’t cool,” Ethan contemplated. “How about you make that call and then we take your mind off it with the dinner show you booked for us, yeah?”

Y/n took a deep breath, looking at Ethan, whose eyes had turned back to show nothing but kindness. She couldn’t wait to forget about this disaster for the rest of the evening and enjoy herself. With the band in tow, she was sure she would.

***

Damiano hadn’t been quite sure what to expect from dinner that evening - but it wasn’t a table smack in the middle of the first row right in front of the stage. He should have seen it coming, really. When Y/n planned and schemed, she always made sure to get them the best of the best. Determined to make sure everyone was having fun. She truly took care of them like no other.

A waiter was at their table in no time, taking orders for drinks and food, and the openers started before Damiano even had a chance to take a sip of his wine. As soon as it became obvious that the first act of the evening would be pole dancing. The rest of the band started snickering, nudging Damiano’s side. Still, they all watched in amazement as the dancer started their performance, music filling the room.

“You know, I could do that,” Damiano whispered in Y/n’s ear as he leaned in close. She looked over at him - at the performer - back to him.

“Sure you can,” she giggled.

“Oh I can,” Damiano insisted, leaning in closer than necessary now. “And in heels.”

Y/n couldn’t stop herself from coughing, choking ever so slightly on her drink, as her eyes widened and a slight shade of pink appeared on her face.

Damiano simply couldn’t help himself. He knew he had meant to back off, give her a little space, give himself some time to think, but the words simply slipped out. “I can always offer you a private show, you know?”

This time, she only paused for a moment before whispering back, “You teach me pole dancing, I’ll teach you rumba, yeah?”

Fuck, he hadn’t expected her to get the upper hand so quickly. Still, he never once lost his smirk, murmuring a “sure” back at her. She had gotten back her cool, focusing back on her meal now, only looking up to watch the performance every now and then in between bites. She was making it way too hard for him to back off. He wondered if she knew what she was doing to him.

Leaning back into his chair, Damiano watched the performer on stage. They were beautiful, no question about that. Amazing at what they did. It was impossible to keep your eyes off them, even Y/n kept getting distracted. He wondered if she’d look at him the same way if it was him up there. Or if he did a little show himself that night, on stage at their own gig. Catching her attention like the dancer was doing now. Maybe making her lose her mind a little bit. It was worth a try…

The performance was over much too quickly for his liking and only shortly after, the main dancer of the evening was announced to go on stage soon. It didn’t take long for the lights dimming, before fading to black completely. A hush falling over the crowd. A spotlight found a petite, blonde bombshell in the middle of the stage. Perfectly sculpted hair, blue boa feather skirt, a glitter corset that dripped with silver and gold accents. She seemed to be glistening under the stage light, body glitter accenting all the right curves and features. Then she turned around.

Damiano’s jaw dropped - along with just about everyone else’s. She was così bella, un angelo. She walked to the front of the stage as the crowd cheered and whistled. Damiano was enraptured by her. She was mystifyingly beautiful. Each move was carefully planned out, knowing exactly what she was doing and how to do it. She was feeding off the crowd, spurred on by the shouts and comments, as she moved across the stage.

Damiano’s eyes followed her closely. He felt hypnotised by her performance. He had never given burlesque much thought, but this show was changing his mind rapidly. The only thing to pull him out of his was a sigh - a disgruntled noise maybe - coming from his left. It was hard to make out Y/n’s face in the dark, he realised as he turned towards her. But if he’d learned anything about her body language in the past days, he was certain that she wasn’t happy. Her arms were crossed in front of her and she was leaned back in her chair in a way that tried to suggest she wasn’t bothered. But she was. He just couldn’t figure out why.

He was distracted when the dancer was back in front of their table, looking down at them from the stage. She sent all of them a wink, before pulling the elbow-length gloves off one by one and throwing them to the side with a smile. She mesmerised him, even as she moved away from them to give another table some attention. Yet, Y/n was playing at the back of his mind.

Why did she seem so mad? She was the one who had booked this dinner, why wasn’t she having fun? Was she still preoccupied with the reporter from before? Sure, that one had definitely stepped over lines, but he thought they’d all gotten out of there pretty unscathed. And the reporter's number had wandered into the bin immediately. He considered the matter closed.

The woman on stage slowly lowered herself into a split, causing pretty much the whole audience to lose their minds. This was too good. More cheers and applause from everywhere. Damiano heard Vic shouting vague words of encouragement as the woman lost her bra, only pasties covering her nipples now. Y/n let out a little groan and from the corner of his eye, he could see her rolling hers. This time, Damiano wasn’t the only one who noticed. He watched as Victoria and Ethan exchanged looks, then nods, and finally shrugs.

Finally the performance ended, the dancer leaving the stage with another wink and kiss blown towards them. Damiano wished it could’ve gone on for longer. These people knew how to turn sex into art, and he’d by lying if he said it didn’t inspire him.

“Okay, gather up, no time to waste,” Y/n order, getting up from her seat the second the lights were turned back on. “You have a show to play and I don’t want you to be late.”

Damiano threw another look around. Even Thomas, who had been too preoccupied drooling over the dancer to notice anything else, was now staring at Y/n questioningly.

“What’s going on with her?” The guitarist asked as they all gathered their stuff and followed their assistant outside.

“Fuck if I know,” Damiano mumbled. “But I wanna find out, sooner or later.”

***

It wasn’t like her to be jealous. She didn’t care much about what other people found enthralling. But Damiano had looked at the dancer as if she was god’s gift to humanity. Yes, she was pretty, yes, she knew how to shake her arse. Was it all that special? The dancer was petite, a perfect fit for Damiano’s arms. A perfect figure to match his. Y/n was confident, she knew she was beautiful, but unfortunately the rest of the world didn’t always think the same. Unlike the dancer on stage. That woman was more than beautiful… She was palatable, sexy, perfect in all the ways a woman should be. Qualities that Y/n was currently convinced she didn’t possess any of.

Okay, maybe she was jealous. But she didn’t have any right to be. The dancer was simply doing her job. And so what, if Damiano had fancied her? It wasn’t like they were together. She worked for him, that was all. She didn’t have any right to want anything from him beyond that.

The fresh air hit her face as she left the venue, forcing some clarity onto her. She’d have to get a grip and get back to focusing on her job. It’s what she was there for, after all.

***

Victoria bounced over the Y/n as she left the venue, full of adrenaline and happiness from the show she had just watched.

“That was amazing, Y/n! Where did you get the idea for this being today’s dinner?” She asked, hooking onto the assistant’s arm.

“Looked up places we could go online, found this one in a travel blog. Said it had amazing wine so I thought we could check it out,” she explained without looking up from her hands, which were toying with the receipt.

“Well, you sure do have impeccable taste,” Victoria grinned and kissed her cheek. It seemed to pull Y/n out of her head enough to look up at the bassist. But Vic’s smile vanished quickly when she saw the look in her eyes. It was cloudy, gloomy, enough to make Victoria freeze up. Thomas was excitedly chattering about the show in the performance in the background, how hot he thought the performers were, especially the last dancer. Damiano eagerly agreed. Y/n’s seemed to have a flash of venom on her face, and suddenly it clicked in Vic’s mind. Oh, she knew that look well, had carried it herself a couple of times in her life.. She was jealous. Y/n was jealous of the way they all - or maybe, someone in particular - had reacted to the woman on stage. And she was doing a bad job hiding it.

As soon as the car pulled up, everyone scrambled to get it. Y/n immediately started bouncing her leg, still a stormy look in her eyes. If it didn’t seem so serious, Victoria would be amused at the state their assistant was in. Yet, with the expression on her face right then and there, the bassist didn’t dare make a joke.

Damiano was sitting next to Y/n, and Victoria desperately tried to catch his eye. It took a slight kick against his shin to get him to look at her. She flickered eyes back and forth between Damiano and Y/n, motioning him towards the woman. Hoping he would understand. Luckily, they’d long gotten used to reading the other’s face, no need for a verbal conversation. Damiano looked down at Y/n’s hands, still picking at the receipt, and he quickly grabbed one of them. Interlacing their fingers and offering her a smile when she looked up. Her leg stopped bouncing immediately.

“You alright?” He whispered.

“Yeah. Am now.”

Victoria couldn’t bite back the smile on her face, quickly turning towards her phone to be less oblivious. Those two would do just fine, sooner or later, she was sure of it.

***

The concert venue was smaller than some of the others they’d been playing on this tour, but if anything, it had caused the crowd to be even more rowdy. Y/n once again sat to the side of the stage, engrossed in her phone. Damiano snuck a peek through the curtain, before retreating and watching Y/n instead. She didn’t seem half as gloomy as she did at the dinner show. But a certain forlorn quality was still obvious. She had never been this type of obviously sad or upset before. At least not to his attention. Well, he was determined to get her to laugh tonight. Whatever had ruined her mood, he was going to fix it.

The band was getting hyped up, gathering around, some last minute fixes to their instruments among excited chatter. Yet, apparently, it hadn’t been only him who noticed Y/n’s mood. Once again sharing a look with Ethan, Victoria motioned her head over to their assistant. He nodded, before walking over to Y/n, taking her by the hand to get her to stand up, and pressing a kiss to her cheek. Victoria quickly followed suit, then Thomas, who had caught on. Damiano quickly gave a wink before kissing her forehead instead.

“For luck!” He shouted, as he ran on stage, welcoming the crowd. A quick look back confirmed a bashful smile on her face.

Everyone was on fire that night, even Y/n seemed to let go of her bad mood more and more. Damiano didn’t miss the way she sang along to their cover of ‘Take Me Out’, obviously getting into the show more than previous nights. Knowing all the lyrics, dancing ever so slightly… Damiano realised he really had it bad for her.

He decided to go for it during “For your love”. With a pointed look towards her, he slowly started rolling off one arm of his jacket. Then the other. A little mock burlesque show of his own, dramatically shimmying his shoulders as he got rid of the jacket completely. The crowd more than appreciated his little performance, judging by their screams. The rest of the band was eating his energy up, playing harder, going crazier. As Damiano jogged over to grab some water, he didn’t miss the opportunity to turn his back towards Y/n, shaking his arse in a bad attempt at twerking. Turning back, he could see that she was desperately trying to bite back a smile. But he wasn’t done yet.

Making sure she was still looking at him, he began playing with his microphone. Giving it a teasing lick and sending her a wink at the same time. Watching her as he let his hand rest on his chest, slowly wandering lower with a teasing touch, until it rested in his lap. He only managed to keep it up for a second, before he couldn’t hold back the laugh at her expression anymore and turned back towards the audience.

But apparently, Y/n had some trick of her own. Well, it seemed like she wasn’t even aware of them, but they worked on Damiano all the same. She was taking her hair out of the pony tail for the night and he thought the way it cascaded around her face was beautiful. He felt like a movie cliche, watching as the main character let her hair down and everything suddenly happened in slow motion. Yet, here she was, trying to shove a bobby pin back into place, and he was losing his shit. He thought it was ridiculous though. The crazier her hair went, the crazier he went about her. She swayed to the music and for a second Damiano could swear time stood still.

I wonder if she likes her hair pulled… The thought distracted him to the point that he forgot what he was singing, quickly covering it up by animating the audience to sing it instead. He was glad to be nearing the end of the set. He’d never wish to go off stage, per se, but Y/n was once again occupying his thoughts and the way she was moving to the music now didn’t help.

Another song, another bow towards the audience, another well-practised “Danke!”, and they were off stage. Damiano briefly considered going over to Y/n, only to see Thomas basically chasing her away, threatening her with a sweaty hug. Her slightly panicked squeals proved she wasn’t a fan of the idea. He didn’t mind. He’d make sure there’d be more time to catch up with her later.

Briefly dropping into the dressing room, Damiano grabbed his cigarettes and a hoodie, before heading outside for a smoke. The backstage door led to a quieter alley than the famously busy Reeperbahn on the other end. But there were still more than a handful of people walking past, singing, dancing, shouting into the night, beer bottles in hand. It didn’t take long for everyone else to join him. Ethan headed outside first, bumming a cigarette off the singer, before Thomas and Victoria followed. They were once again involved in some sort of mock argument. Y/n stepped outside a minute later, phone in her hand, already back to work-mode and probably checking the plan for the next few days. Everyone was still on a high from the gig, chatting and giggling, but Damiano felt himself taking a step back. He loved watching his friends, loved what they did, loved that he got to do it with them. And now Y/n too, in a way. Not even a full week in and he knew that this tour wouldn’t have been the same without her.

He was rapidly pulled out of his thoughts as a group of men came towards them, obviously way past drunk. Yelling and hollering for no reason but to be annoying and get everyone’s attention. Damiano hated those kinds of drunks. In his experience they were nothing but trouble. He had half a mind to retreat back inside before they reached the group, but even in their inebriated stupor; they were quicker than expected.

“Now, who are these beautiful girls?” One of them slurred, stepping forward.

“Yeah! Bet you give a man a good time,” another one laughed loudly. “And a cheap one too.”

One of them was moving closer now, almost touching Victoria - but without even a moment to process what was happening, Y/n acted. Damiano watched, fascinated, as she grabbed the man’s extended hand, twisting it around his back and shoulder checking him into the brick wall of the alley. No second thought, no hesitation. Shouldn’t the men have been the one to react and take care of their girls? Well, it didn’t seem like Y/n was one to wait to be saved.

In a tone that he had never heard before - and neither had the rest of the band judging by their reactions - Y/n spoke, “You couldn’t afford me, mate. Or my friends. So I’d take your piss drunk self elsewhere, m’kay?”

The men were gone faster than lightning, stumbling to find their footing as they ran, only starting to comment on how she was a “fat fucking bitch” and how they “wouldn’t have wanted her anyway” when they were far enough away. Y/n wordlessly rejoined the group.

Damiano found himself releasing a breath. The whole scene had been over so quickly, he barely registered it. He wasn’t the only one either, he realised. As the other three kept staring at her, amazed and maybe slightly intimidated, while Y/n didn’t even react.

However, Damiano wasn’t just mesmerised by her behaviour. He was thrilled by her - in more ways than one. The way she had handled herself was downright hot. She was fierce, self-confident, and strong. He couldn’t keep himself from contemplating whether this was a side she would let out in the bedroom as well. Was she the type to take control? Order him around? Push him to a wall like she’d done that guy, only with very different intentions? He would be 100% okay with taking orders from her, he decided.

Y/n finally looked up from her phone, apparently feeling everyone’s stares on her.

“...What. I told you I worked security before.” She looked at Victoria, quietly asking her if she was alright. She simply nodded. Damiano still couldn’t keep his eyes off of their assistant. Damn, that woman had more to herself than she let on.

***

Damiano was still thinking about it an hour later. After everyone had gathered their stuff and gotten back to the hotel and split up into their rooms. After he’d gotten in the shower. His mind was still running wild. He quickly turned the water to cold, letting out a hiss at the change in temperature, but he knew he didn’t have the time or the privacy to do anything about his thoughts. Neither would he be knocking on Y/n’s door, desperate for some kind of attention.

Not tonight.

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