#like make it a whimsical theater curtain | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

melzula · 4 years ago

Text

Date Night

pairing: Zuko x Princess!reader

notes: you have no idea how excited I was when I saw this request in my inbox

request: Could you write a Fire Lilies blurb about Princess! Reader and Zuko watching the Ember Island's play about their adventure with Aang and the others?

~ part of the fire lilies series ~

When Sokka and Suki had revealed that the Ember Island Players were performing a play about your little group, you had actually been really excited to go. Constant training and preparation for Sozin’s comet was physically and emotionally draining, so a night at the theater with your friends was exactly what you all needed- even if your boyfriend wasn’t too thrilled about the prospect.

“C’mon, it’ll be fun! Think of it as a date night,” you try to convince him as the two of you take your seats

“Kind of hard to do that when it’s not just the two of us,” Zuko grumbles only for you to shush him, hugging onto his arm and snuggling up close to his side the moment the curtains draw. He lets out a small sigh and rolls his eyes as the train wreck of a play begins, but there’s a faint blush on his cheeks from how close you are. Despite how terrible he knows this is going to be, he does appreciate being your boyfriend again.

The play is really... something. Though it isn’t exactly what you expected, it’s still entertaining nonetheless. You were nearly brought to tears at the portrayal of Aang, laughing the hardest you ever have in your whole life. Things took a turn though once you and Zuko were introduced. You aren’t a fan of their distasteful take on Uncle Iroh, and Zuko isn’t too thrilled about their portrayal of himself either.

“They make me look totally stiff and humorless,” he complains.

“Actually, I think that actor’s pretty spot-on,” Katara teases smugly.

“How could you say that?!”

“Let’s forget about the Avatar and get massages,” actor Iroh then suggested.

“How could you say that?!” “Zuko” yelled in response, prompting your boyfriend to sink down in his seat with a frown. At that moment an actress emerged from the interior of the ship. She wore a tacky but very large dress with a poorly put together crown made of icicles, swooning at Zuko’s feet and kissing the ground he walked on; the actress was you.

“Oh, how I long to settle down in Ba Sing Se like the selfish, spoiled Princess I am!” She sighed dramatically. “I’m a dirty water rat that betrayed my people so I can follow my true love!”

You wanted to gag at how corny her acting was, but you also wanted to melt into the floor and hide forever at how embarrassing the portrayal was. You try to ignore the quizzical glances your friends send your way, choosing to shield your profile with your hand instead to save yourself from further embarrassment.

“Zuko, pay attention to me!” The Princess on stage whined only for Zuko to keep her at arm’s length.

“Nothing is more important to me than the Avatar!” Actor Zuko rebutted.

“You know, you’re a pretty bad boyfriend,” Sokka points out, and Zuko scowls.

“I wasn’t that bad... was I?” He asks guiltily.

“Umm... you had your moments,” you defend weakly, and Zuko deflates at your response.

“Even though you ignore me I will stay by your side because I’m desperate!” the Princess proclaimed, wrapping herself around Zuko. “And I won’t even use my water bending to help you restore your honor because I’m useless!”

“Oh, boy,” Toph laughs, “it’s like I’m actually there!”

“Still excited about the play?” Zuko whispers to you, and you merely grumble irately in response as you wrap yourself up in the lower half of his cloak.

It’s safe to say the majority of your group finds the play unbearable. From turning Aang into a whimsical immature child to making Katara overly dramatic and emotional, the performance butchers your characters in every way possible. You especially weren’t fond with the siege of the North segment where your selfishness and desperation for Zuko’s love were emphasized the most. They especially loved to highlight the fact that you paled in comparison to Yue as Princess, leaving a bitter taste in your mouth that lasted all the way to intermission.

“So far this intermission is the best part of the play,” Zuko grumbles from where he’s leaned against the railing. You sit by his feet on the stairs, angrily chewing on Sokka’s fire jerky.

“I’m not desperate,” you mutter through a stuffed mouth, “and I’m not selfish either. I’m a great Princess!”

“At least your actress kind of looks like you,” Aang argued. “I’m a woman!”

“Listen friends, it’s obvious that the playwright did his research,” Toph buts in. “I know it must hurt, but what you’re seeing up there on that stage is the truth.”

“Easy for you to say, you haven’t seen how they’re going to butcher your character yet,” you mumble.

Of course Toph ended up being the only member of your group to give her approval to the actor portraying her. You have to admit though, being played by a buff guy is pretty cool, but you could’ve done without the sonic scream. At this point, Zuko’s cloak is now yours as you worm your way underneath it to block out the sound.

“Oh, Zuko!” Actress you cries suddenly. “My mind is telling me that being with you is wrong, but my heart tells me that there’s still good in you! I want to settle down in Ba Sing Se with you and have weird, mutant bender babies!”

You nearly choke on your own spit at the thought of “mutant bender babies,” groaning as your friends begin to laugh. Zuko’s mind is still trying to process the word “babies.”

“My honor has prevented me from keeping you happy, so now I will succumb to your bewitching good looks and live in a dirty earth kingdom city to please you,” the Zuko on stage replies dramatically.

“Bewitching good looks?” Suki teases your blushing boyfriend with a raised brow.

Things start to get uncomfortable with the start of crystal cave scene.

“I’ve had eyes for you since the day you first captured me,” actress Katara swooned, causing both you and Aang to stiffen in your seats.

“I’m sorry, did you flirt with my boyfriend in the crystal caves?” You glare over at Katara before turning your angry gaze to Zuko. He smiles at you sheepishly, frowning when you remove yourself from his cloak and scoot a few inches away from him.

“Well brother, what’s it going to be? Your nation or a life of treachery?” Azula asked.

“Zuko, don’t do it!” The Princess cried. “I love you!”

“You’re a water rat and you’re annoying and also I don’t love you anymore!” The actor yelled in response. The actress playing you bursted into tears before turning them into a “powerful wave” that knocked Zuko off his feet.

“Is that really what happened?” Katara asked the two of you gently, both of you refusing to meet her gaze. He tries to reach for your hand to comfort you only for you to pull it away. It isn’t a pleasant memory to revisit, and seeing it played out for you again makes things tense.

The second intermission is even worse, though a little boy dressed as Aang does tell you that you’re so much prettier than the real Princess y/n, so that’s a plus. But the ending of the terrible, horrible, awful play leaves your group shaken. You can’t seem to stay mad at Zuko anymore, not after watching his “death” on stage.

“Oh, Zuko,” you murmur softly at the sight of him being consumed by the flames, and your boyfriend wraps a comforting arm around your figure in response. He’s equally just as shaken.

Your group is mostly silent as you leave the theater, Zuko and yourself trailing behind just slightly as you walk along the sand.

“Are you alright?” He asks gently.

“The other stuff I was mad about was stupid, and I know things are different now. But... watching you die?”

“I know,” he murmurs thoughtfully.

“Remind me never to go to another Ember Island play ever again,” you groan, smiling weakly as he drapes his cloak over your shoulders and presses a kiss to your cheek.

“Gladly.”

| tags: @oddment-niwit-blubber-tweak @thebluelcdy @royahllty @the-firebender-girl @coldlilheart @ilovespideyyy @titaniafire @dekahg @emberislandplayers s @kikaninchen-2 @sokkas--boomerang @eridanuswave @royahllty @lozzybowe @izzieserra @melacholy @music-geek19 @thia-aep @thyunnamed @kittenthekat1234567890 @haylaansmi @nataliahaslosthershit @coldlilheart @idkdude776 @aangsupremacy @thirstyforsometea @ihaveaproblem98 |

#zuko #zuko x reader #zuko imagine #prince zuko #prince zuko x reader #prince zuko imagine #zuko and the princess #avatar the last airbender #atla #atla x reader #fire lilies #princess reader #request

1K notes · View notes

raven-at-the-writing-desk · 4 years ago

Text

A matchup for @twistinghearts! Thank you very much for commissioning me, and please enjoy~

Your heart’s desire is...

...Rook Hunt!

Your fiery red hair was what first caught this hunter’s keen eyes. He just wouldn’t leave you alone after that--and though you found it annoying at first, it grew on you after a while! Your awkwardness soon turned into blunt, snappy retorts, but that never seemed to push him away. On the contrary, Rook loves a little bite--and he keeps coming back for more. You swear you can feel his eyes on you while you’re painting a set, sewing up a costume, or adjusting the stage lights for Theater Club. Rook keeps you company and talks your ear off as you go about your work, so you never feel alone. Shared giggles and whispers gave way to your first kiss behind those velour stage curtains--curtains as red as your hair.

He has a fondness for flowery language, so you shouldn’t have been surprised when he proclaimed you to be his Rose Rouge. It was a play on the names Snow White and Little Red Riding Hood--or so he had claimed. You’ve never really felt that you were suited to be nicknamed after such whimsical characters, but Rook often reassures you that you are--and that makes him your prince and loyal huntsman!

Pack your bags and lace up your boots, because every moment with Rook is an adventure! He’ll whisk you off your feet for a fun mountain hike or a leisurely stroll in the woods, far, far away from prying eyes. You can’t count the number of picnics and camping trips that you’ve shared. It’s just the two of you relaxing under a canopy of leaves or a brilliant blue sky. When you get tuckered out, Rook offers a piggyback ride, or making a rest stop for water and snacks. On particularly slow and warm days, you might end up falling asleep on his shoulder under the shade of a tree.

Rook is like a ray of sunshine in your world! Not only does he cheer you up when the chips are down, but he reminds you every day of how wonderful you are! So what if you procrastinated on that assignment? You put forth the elbow grease to get it done at the last minute, and that deserves to be commended! You don't think you look your best? Non, non! You will always be beautiful in his eyes. Feeling frustrated and sad? No worries, you are always deserving of his love and affection. You know that you can always confide in your faithful boyfriend for support, no matter what the circumstance.

The Hunter of Love and his Rose Red...together, a fairy tale couple for the ages.

#twst writing commissions #matchmaking #twst #twisted wonderland #disney twisted wonderland

45 notes · View notes

adamwatchesmovies · 4 years ago

Text

Moomin and Midsummer Madness (2008)

As I review Moomin and Midsummer Madness I find it hard to separate the source material from the film. What I enjoyed about it I've treasured since first meeting the characters as a child. This doesn't mean I found no faults in the picture.

You’re probably wondering what I’m talking about. What is a Moomin? Moomins are fun-loving, carefree creatures that live a simple life in Moomin Valley. There’s Moominpappa (Mark Camacho), Moominmamma (Kathleen Fee), and their son Moomintroll (Tod Fennell). They're blissfully ignorant and perpetually optimistic. If their house burns down, they celebrate the destruction of that ugly painting they didn’t want but couldn’t give away because it would hurt the painter’s feelings. When Moomin Valley is flooded, the Moomins, Little Mai (Sonja Ball), the Snorkmaiden (Holly Gauthier-Frankel), and their neighbors take refuge on a strange floating house with huge curtains, wardrobes full of costumes, tall ceilings filled with paintings and great acoustics. When they learn this house is a “theatre” they decide to put on a show despite never having written, acted, or seen a play before.

This is a very sweet story guaranteed to melt your heart. Everyone is kind and bright-eyed, the plot is cheerful. You just know in the end, everything will be ok. I hadn't visited with these characters for years but it still filled me with joy. The story's playfulness, the lack of serious conflicts, or peril is so sweet you fall in love with the story right away.

Before you decide to scratch your nostalgic itch, know the story has been simplified to suit small children. The narrator (Richard M Dumont) insists on making every single action or development obvious. We see that Moomin Troll is happy, and then we’re told how happy he is. You don't need to tell us if we can be shown. Another example of the story being watered down is in the pacing. In the first scene, they're eating breakfast. The flood happens, they find the theater and it feels like it's been just a few sentences before they're eating lunch already. Someone should have caught that having them eat two times that close to each other was a mistake. It should have been combined into one meal because the material that was in the original story has been removed and the "big events" retained.

One of the more striking aspects of this movie is the style of animation. It’s a mix of stop-motion and puppetry. The felt, yarn, and cloth characters have been placed on a glass sheet over a background and then methodically moved one frame at a time to create the illusion of movement. You can often see the reflections on the glass, which breaks the illusion but otherwise, the technique is good and it suits the whimsical little story well. A tale in which the biggest villain is an overeager police officer who doesn’t want people stepping on the grass couldn't have asked for something lighter, fluffier than this.

Moomin and Midsummer Madness owes its success primarily on its source material. Parents who want to introduce their children to a property they enjoyed in their youth will find great value in it. Children will be entranced and delighted to see it. For a non-kid, non-parent like myself, it's enjoyable but is not the definitive adaptation and doesn't surpass the book. (English Dub on DVD, May 13, 2015)

#Moomin #Moomintroll #MoominandMidsummerMadness #movies #films #reviews #animatedmovies #animatedfilms #filmreview #filmcriticism #MariaLindberg #IivoBaric #ToveJansson #OutiAlanen #SonjaBall #KimBubbs

2 notes · View notes

astorchronicles · 5 years ago

Photo

The production of A Midsummer Night’s Dream by the Grandstreet Theatre could only be described by one word: dreamy. Invited by Arthur Astor to celebrate the beginning of a new school year and the reopening of the Alpha Theater, Montana’s beloved theater company did not disappoint, bringing to the campus a whimsical play about four individuals in different journeys for love, and faeries. What could be a better combination than love and magic, right? Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream is one of the most frequently produced plays of the 16th century playwright and has always been a fan favorite, with its comedic themes and amusing scenes, but with underlying tones of darkness in the portrayal of the multiple romantic story lines. It was evident by the standing ovation they received from the student body, faculty, and staff of Astor Academy that the play was very much enjoyed, and the resonating sound of applause continued until the curtain call.

However, this was not what the student body of Astor Academy was talking about by the end of the evening. Not even at the mixer that was prepared. Because by the time they arrived at the East Wing dining hall, full of excitement both from the play and for the dinner party ahead, they found that the exquisitely prepared hall had been turned upside down. They say a picture’s worth a thousand words, and it couldn’t be truer in this case, as we find ourselves unable to accurately describe the destruction that was supposed to have been the dinner party.

Naturally, Arthur Astor was furious at such an indecent display, and held an urgent school assembly the very next morning, promising both to the actors of Grandstreet Theatre and the entire student body and staff of Astor Academy that they will not rest until the people responsible for these unforgivable acts are caught and properly sanctioned.

It seems like what happened at the East Wing dining hall, now out of bounds, is similar to what transpired at the Alpha Theater just months ago. We’ve all been made aware of the existence of a group of people who call themselves ‘the Arsonists’, and are no stranger to the terrors they have caused the student population. But from small pranks and scares, it seems they have extended their repertoires and have begun indulging in grand schemes of destruction. If their intention for wrecking what would have been a beautiful evening was to anger the administration, they certainly achieved their goal for Arthur Astor has made a statement that they will extensively investigate the matter. Any and all involvement in the aforementioned group will result to the appropriate disciplinary actions or, if worse comes to worse, expulsion.

The following students have been deemed suspicious and are currently being investigated regarding their activities the night of the incident. Furthermore, their involvement in the so called “Arsonists” is being questioned.

Almeida, Agata

Amano, Margaret

Deschamps, Florian

Fitzgerald, Anastasia

Haldar, Kellan

Kensington, Reese

Rose, Andrew

Wang, Soren

OKAY so I’m basically just gonna give you guys kind of an idea on how the interrogation would go??? They’d probably be called to the headmaster’s office in the middle of class/sometime during the day, one by one, over the course of the following days. There is a set of questions written down below so that you guys will know how your characters will be interrogated but, basically, the headmaster probably tried to suggest that they are involved with the Arsonists and are responsible for the whole thing. You guys can have your characters make use of this information however you want, may it be in a self-para or in simple threads. If you have any questions, feel free to shoot us a message!

Where, exactly, were you the evening of the play?

Is there anyone who can corroborate your story for you?

What did you do in response to the incident?

Did you witness anything worth noting during that evening?

Tell us everything you know about the Arsonists.

#Entry2

8 notes · View notes

a-stone-world-saga · 5 years ago

Text

“Senkuu? Are you busy?”

Senkuu glances up from the melting contents of the test tubes he’s been waiting on. Ruri is standing in the doorway, one hand pushing the curtain aside, half-turned away like she’s unsure of her welcome. Haloed behind her, the moon hangs heavy and full in the clear night sky.

“Nah,” Senkuu shrugs, setting his latest experiment to the side. “I have to wait for these to defrost first, so the next step can wait until morning. Chrome will complain if I start without him anyway.” He considers her for a moment. “It’s late. Did you need something?”

Ruri’s chin dips into the fur of her coat but her gaze remains on him. “I couldn’t sleep,” She admits. “So I thought I would go for a walk.” She pauses, eyes darting away, then back. “Kohaku told me you don’t sleep much, so I wondered if you would like to come with me?”

Senkuu stares at her, more than a little surprised. He must take too long to answer though because she winces like she’s committed some horrible offense, and in the next second, she’s already apologizing, “I’m sorry, I overstepped, I just thought-”

Senkuu snorts loudly, and then has to hide a wince of his own because he always forgets to be a little gentler with Ruri the way everyone else naturally seems to be around her. It’s not really in his nature though, to be careful with people, except maybe Suika, sometimes, since she’s a child. But Ruri... Ruri’s somehow always registered as tough in his mind, when he thinks about her, and so it never occurs to him right away that she’s technically more delicate than all the other people he usually interacts with.

Ah well, too late to take it back now. Onward and through it is. “Don’t be stupid, why would you be overstepping?” He grumbles, pushing to his feet and stretching the stiffness out of his muscles. “Besides, I don’t have anything better to do right now, and I could do with some fresh air. Let me just get my coat.”

He fetches it from the wall hooks in the corner, and then rakes a critical eye over Ruri before grabbing an extra scarf as well.

“Jeez,” He grumbles, sparing a moment to blow out the oil lamp on the table before joining Ruri at the door. She’s still blinking owlishly at him, like she fully expected to be turned down in the first place. Senkuu just sighs and loops the scarf around her neck, knotting it loosely before tucking most of it inside the collar of her coat to make sure it does its job. “I know you’re not sick anymore, but that doesn’t mean you can’t get sick again. It’s almost winter; look after yourself a little better.”

He pulls on his own coat, and when he glances up again, he finds Ruri smiling at him, faint and softly delighted the way her sister’s brashly confident grins almost never are. Sometimes, Senkuu looks at them and can’t believe they’re sisters. But they have the exact same steel in them, straight down to the core; they just show it in different ways.

They don’t need words as they set out for the surrounding woods, although Senkuu does smirk a little when he spots the bridge leading to the village in the distance. “How’d you slip past your guards?”

Ruri tips a secretive smile up at him this time, something just shy of mischievous. “I just told them I had important priestess secrets to impart to the village chief right away because it’s a full moon. Same with the guards on bridge duty.”

Senkuu barks out a laugh. “You’re lucky it’s not Kinrou and Ginrou’s shift at the moment; they’d never believe that anymore.”

“Why do you think I didn’t come earlier?” Ruri retorts lightly, and for a moment, they grin at each other like old friends.

The days have been getting shorter, the nights longer, and the woods feel extra quiet as they walk through them. The trees whisper with the night breeze all around them, and it’s peaceful in a way Senkuu’s modern world probably never could be. He misses it of course, but the longer he lives in this Stone World, the more he thinks that it isn’t so terrible, even if a lot of everyday activities he once took for granted aren’t so convenient anymore.

As if reading his mind, Ruri peers over at him, eyes bright with curiosity as she asks, “Kohaku and Chrome have caught me up on much of your modern world, but was it so very different? Were there still places like this in your time?”

Senkuu makes a considering noise as they step out onto the grassy bank of one of the nearby rivers. The water is clear enough that in some of the calmer parts, he can see right to the bottom like there isn’t even anything there.

“Some,” He says to Ruri. “In some parts of the world, there were still a few pockets of civilization similar to Ishigami Village. And lots of places still had natural wildlife and vegetation, although if you compare it to now, you could say there weren’t nearly as many.” He grimaces a little. “I suppose that’s one issue with civilization advancing as far as it did. The planet can only produce so many resources at a time, and we humans always wanted more. Pollution was a pretty big problem too - our species tend to generate a lot of garbage, and nature had to pay for that.”

They stop right by a mostly smooth spike of rock that juts out over the water, and once Senkuu’s hoisted himself up onto it, he turns to offer his hand to Ruri, who takes it firmly and lets him pull her up as well. They sit right by the edge, legs dangling above the river, and the moon is low enough on the horizon that it almost looks like the water is pouring right into it.

“But you made incredible things too,” Ruri says, sounding a touch wistful, imagining a world that Senkuu knows won’t ever be exactly the way reality was, no matter how well he tries to describe it.

Humanity’s legacy, forgotten by humanity.

“We make incredible things now,” He says out loud, flashing a smirk when Ruri looks up at him again with a startled expression. “We’re all humans, even in this world, and we’re still alive. We’ll go on to make more and more incredible things, and it won’t ever be the same, but it’ll still be pretty exciting.”

Ruri’s eyes widen, and for a long minute, even after Senkuu turns to stare out at the sprawling woods in front of them again, she doesn’t look away. Senkuu lets her at it, content with the silence between them. It’s comfortable, somehow, even when he’s acutely aware of her gaze on him.

She looks away, at last, but she also sways to the side, her shoulder knocking gently against his, and when he glances down, she’s smiling again. Perhaps it’s Senkuu’s own occasionally whimsical imagination, but somehow, Ruri has a way of smiling that radiates a quiet sort of inner joy now that illness and impending death no longer plague her, as if every breath she can freely take these days is something that makes her happy.

“Tell me something,” She says, her words fogging the air at her lips. “About your world. Something I would like.”

Senkuu’s eyebrows go up, and then he chuckles. “What, electricity and ramen not good enough for you?”

When Ruri only peeks up at him, tentatively expectant, Senkuu sighs and hums in thought for a few seconds, casting his mind back to a childhood lived a lifetime ago.

“Libraries,” He finally says.

Ruri blinks. “Libraries? What’s that?”

Senkuu lifts his hands, outlining the vague shape of a square. “I told you guys what books are, right? Stories and information, knowledge, all written down on paper, recorded for everyone to read. Now imagine a whole building of them, lined with shelves, containing hundreds of books, a place where people can go to read them for free. Libraries were a thing all over the world, at least one in every city, dozens in just about every country.” He drops his hands. “The library nearest my house was three floors high. It wasn’t the biggest, but it still had tons of books on every subject you could imagine - fiction and non-fiction, fantasy and adventure stories, physics and chemistry texts, books suitable for everyone from children to adults. It opened early and closed late, so you could spend the whole day in there and read as much as you want. Most of the walls were floor-to-ceiling glass windows, and you know that couch we made for your birthday? Imagine rows of them, right by the windows, where you could sit in the sunlight and just read from morning to night. The third floor had a balcony too, with chairs and tables and umbrellas over them, so you could go outside on nice days and sit in the shade and enjoy a drink and read a book.”

He stops for breath and rubs the back of his neck as he checks Ruri’s expression. “Eh, I don’t know if I’m describing it very well, but I think it would be something you’d like.”

Because Ruri has the same thirst for knowledge as Chrome, as Senkuu himself. It isn’t as science-oriented, but she’s taken to asking him about the Tales. She’s memorized them all from her mother, like every priestess before her, but now that she can, she also wants to know what they mean, and that led to questions about other old-world stories, about fairy tales lost to time, romance novels that are more up Taiju’s alley than Senkuu’s, even old theater plays and the famous names that wrote them. Ruri was the first to ask Senkuu for lessons on the written word. It’s slow-going, but Ruri wants with a passion that Senkuu knows very well, and he thinks that in the modern era, they would’ve had to pry her out of the library every day.

“It sounds wonderful,” Ruri announces, drawing Senkuu’s attention back to the present. She claps her hands together, then spreads them, palms up. Her father despairs of the broken skin and new callouses she sports these days, but she insists on helping with their science, now that she can, and she’s just as stubborn as Kohaku when she wants to be.

“One day, I want us to build our own library, in this world,” She continues, gaze focused on some point beyond her hands, a vision of her own in her mind’s eye. “I want books of our own that we’ll be able to write ourselves, good enough to be passed on to the next generation, and the next, and the next.” She folds her hands together and smiles up at him. Her hair glows almost white in the light of the moon, and the determined steel shining from her face is... incandescently captivating. “I think it would be just as exciting as your science, Senkuu.”

Senku huffs a laugh. “Well, why not? I’m not planning on leaving this world without writing down everything I know, and a library’s not complete without a decent science section.” He leans back and grins up at the sky. “A library’s not any harder than everything else we’ve done so far. And one compiled by all the weirdoes we have in our Kingdom of Science? It’ll be one hell of a library!”

It’s not entirely science-oriented, but Senkuu thinks he could see it anyway. Glass is not an impossibility for them anymore. And if Ryuusui can lead the construction of a ship, then a building wouldn’t be difficult.

A library, three stories high, with floor-to-ceiling windows. Why not?

He pushes off his hands, suddenly itching to do, to make something, to create. He hops off the rock, then turns back to Ruri, and maybe it’s infectious because she looks just as alive as he feels in this moment. When he holds out his hand, she grasps it, but she also half-leaps off the rock after him, and her laughter spills out into the night - silver-bright and free - when he spins her once before setting her on the ground again.

“Tell me a story, Senkuu,” Ruri requests, cheeks flushed, a little breathless, and so, so alive.

What can humanity not do, so long as they live on?

As they begin making their way back towards the village, she slips one hand around the inside of his elbow, fingers light with unspoken question.

Senkuu bends his arm and tucks her hand more securely into the crook of his elbow. Ruri takes a half-step closer, settling into his side as her other hand comes up to join the first.

"Ever heard of old man Homer’s Iliad?”

“You know I haven’t.”

“It’s a long one.”

“I have time. Tell it to me, Senkuu. I want to hear it all.”

#dr stone #senri #ishigami senkuu #ruri #cross writes #oneshot

51 notes · View notes

zukadiary · 6 years ago

Text

Hustle Mates ~ Cosmos Troupe 2018

I know I'm here so often it's hardly special anymore… but this trip had the distinction of being my first VACATION in Japan in 5 years. I'd forgotten what mornings look like in this country (and as I'm now back at work for the remaining few days, I already miss them).

It also had the distinction of being Kazuki Sora's first lead. Of my standout favorites in my life thus far as a Takarazuka fan, Sora is the only one who, by some witch magic, grabbed me when she was a tiny child—before I ever set foot in a theater here, before she even got a shinko lead. After growing quite used to following her around the edges of the stage with my opera glasses and mentally cursing camera operators for not panning two inches to the left to get more than a sliver of her arm in some great dance scene, this year brought first an absolute dream role in Anita, followed by the center spotlight that I honestly wasn't convinced she'd ever get. It's been vindicating seeing her immense talents displayed so prominently, and deeply moving in ways utterly different from any of the other cyclones of emotion Takarazuka fandom has thrown upon me. A very non-Soragumi friend had a chance to see the show, and I felt nervous and wary like I was taking an acquaintance to my own child's recital (someone please tell me when I got old enough to experience THAT feeling). And much like a mom, I plan to throw out any attempt at objectivity and rave about my girl until you don't want to listen anymore.

Hustle Mates was primarily a collection of songs and dances from Soragumi history, with a few non-Takarazuka songs, MC sections, and mini skits thrown in. It's a tiny cast of 16, so if you like anyone in it you have a good chance of seeing her featured. Long-time Soragumi fans will likely find it very fun and nostalgic regardless. Sora leading a show about the history of Soragumi which contains a great number of songs with the word sora in them made it kind of sound like she was singing about herself for two hours, which greatly amused me (and apparently tickled Ishida-sensei too).

Act 1 opens with two original songs—the very upbeat Hustle Mates theme, and then more of a ballad (also with ample use of the word SORA)—followed by a selection of songs from some of the most well-known Soragumi musicals: Copacabana, Phantom, Top Hat, Singin' in the Rain, and an Elisabeth medley, which despite the general overuse of Elisabeth songs was still my favorite. Watashi Dake Ni was a group musumeyaku number, Mikaze Maira got to unleash her very impressive pipes on that last note. Saigo no Dance also started as a group otokoyaku number. Moeko entered partway through for a solo line, and I know she has the shinko Tod experience under her, but since I've never seen that, it was maybe the most surprising and powerful few seconds of Moeko I've ever witnessed. Then Sora came in to finish the song, and in some alternate universe where she's in a different class and tall enough to be a top star I'd sell both of my kidneys to see her Elisabeth every single day of the run. Sora solo Kitsch came next and was likewise flawless, so I guess I'll be satisfied with keeping my kidneys if they finally air that dang shinko in the next couple of months while Tsukigumi is playing.

Then we have a skit… I'm a bit fuzzy on exactly what went on in it, but I suspect I might be looking for sense where there was none. Setohana Mari enters dressed like a dominatrix, loudly cracking whip and all, with two other musumeyaku guards of Partial Time Prison. They do a roll call of past Soragumi characters who come out one by one and make meta jokes about themselves (discussing their offenses?) while the three guards smack them around. Sora is brought out last, as Lucheni, and gives a long speech, the punchline of which is he's on the path to reform thanks to his new life selling green juice mix in what is probably a pyramid scheme. Each performance she ad-libbed Louis and Marie Antoinette off the stage.

Moeko and Mineri who were playing Jose and Carmen in prison stick around to sing Temptation (GREAT song, I wanted a little more from these two) while the underclassmen get ready to sing Amapola a cappella conducted by Homare Seri. This was QUITE impressive, and I love it when they use Bow to give underclassmen little challenges like this. Act 1 ends with a medley of the Soragumi revue songs that got the most votes in the internet poll they ran a few months ago. They aren't listed individually in the program and I'm probably missing something, but off the top of my head I remember Millennium Challenger, Dancing For You, Funky Sunshine, Nice Guy, Phoenix Takarazuka, and Hot Eyes. Sora singing Funky Sunshine (SO—RA— POWER) was HIGHLY satisfying. They finish on Asu e no Energy, which still made me cry even though I JUST saw Citrus Breeze… but put my kid in the center of a song that always makes me cry anyway and I guess that's what you get.

Act 2 was less nostalgic and more interesting to me, probably because Sora's dance scenes multiplied significantly. They opened with a nihonmono medley, beginning with a Soran dance which I LOVED (the one from Viva Festa always gets me hyped too). Sora entered Takarazuka with a background in hip hop dance which I think always gives her movements a particular dynamic energy and a sharpness that sets her apart even from the other great Takarazuka dancers, but it stood out to me even more than usual in the Soran scene, probably in contrast to the traditional Japanese garb. I REALLY LOVED IT (even if I can imagine nichibu purists cringing). During my first two viewings of the show I was mostly overwhelmed and ecstatic that Sora had gotten a lead at all, but the last one, particularly in the Soran scene for whatever reason, it hit me HARD how much she's grown and how commanding and enthralling she is on stage.

After we spend a bit more time reliving Soragumi's very brief nihonmono history through song, there's a "rain corner" featuring a folk song that I rather like and a skit that made me feel COMPLEX THINGS. Mappu (Matsukaze Akira) plays some kind of rain god/wizard/???, in a whimsically decorated raincoat with two cute little ghosts hanging off her umbrella. Sora enters playing a guy out for a walk in the park in the rain where he meets a girl (Mineri) who lets him share her umbrella, and when the rain stops she asks him what he's doing in the park in the rain without one. BEAR WITH ME HERE: he explains he felt like coming to visit the spot where his dog Liza died, on a rainy day just like this one, after running away from their car (side note, I hope they named the dog Liza because Mineri's name is a play on Minelli?? Is it even?? There's a good ochakai question 6 days too late). He reminisces about all the tricks Liza could do, and Mineri imitates them. He shows her a picture of Liza, and surprisingly they're wearing the same dress?! It becomes evident that Mineri is actually the human form spirit of Sora's late pet, granted a few precious moments on earth by Rain Wizard Mappu to talk to her former owner, thank him, and say goodbye… she disappears with Mappu before Sora fully figures it out. HERE'S THE THING: As WTF?? as this entire concept is, Sora's acting was so damn heartbreaking I TEARED UP on the THIRD VIEWING even though I TOTALLY KNEW WHAT TO EXPECT?? I'm GENUINELY ANGRY that she took THIS SKIT and managed to MAKE ME CRY, and now I'm also praying to all the gods that this isn't her last lead, because I NEED to see her in a proper play with a proper partner. Where do I sacrifice the goats?

Next the whole team sings a song from Never Say Goodbye, leading up to Sora coming out for a solo barefoot dance, custom engineered to wound me as gravely as possible. Setohana Mari follows this up with an attempt at If I Were a Bell from Guys & Dolls, with brilliant all-in drunk acting but barely recognizable English (A for effort given the speed of the song though).

AND THEN

Okay. There's a rare special thing that I've now had the… fortune? I guess? of experiencing twice, that I hope you all get to experience someday, not because it's good or fun but just because it's An Experience. Sometimes there are secret little treats hidden in Takarazuka shows just for the foreigners. They're secret because I am pretty sure the directors have no idea what treats they are. And sometimes, through a combination of luck and the kindest friends, you make it to your first viewing with no spoilers, and a song starts playing that you recognize within half a note, and you begin having an experience so separate from every other person in the theater you feel as though you might as well be floating above the audience with all their disapproving gazes drilling into you, wondering what the heck you're doing up there when clearly the place for you is down here. The first time was when I waltzed unassuming into HOT EYES!! in an era when my feelings re: Soragumi were "I guess I have to watch them if I want to see Sora," and in my heart-pounding state of shock brought about by the first however many scenes Eye of the Tiger began to play, and out came involuntarily a VERY noticeable raspberry spit of quickly stifled laughter (before Makaze's everything shut me right the heck up).

The second was when amidst the polite applause following Secchan's Ding Dong Ding, the curtain rose on the remainder of the cast beginning a fiercely literal staging of the entirety of Bohemian Rhapsody in English. There are so many things to unpack:

Mikaze Maira, playing a literal mother, opens the number by emotionally reading a literal letter from her literal son who has literally gone off to war

The others, with Sora in the center, are playing soldiers armed with sizable rifles, portraying the horrors of war via aggressive interpretive dance

Sora's English, while certainly not flawless, was SO PASSABLE, especially when compared to a) history in general and b) specifically Can't Take My Eyes Off of You from 2 years ago, I was FULLY SHOOK

Her dancing and acting in this number were SO FRIGGIN GOOD I could DIE

The performance overall was SO PASSIONATELY ACTED and thus SO DISTRESSING that people in the audience were CRYING from BEING MOVED to the point where later in the run they BEGAN SNIFFLING BEFORE THE NUMBER EVEN STARTED

It forced me for the first time in my life to sit down and hella contemplate the lyrics to Bohemian Rhapsody, the conclusion of which was a) yeah that sure was a 500% valid interpretation of the lyrics and b) there is absolutely no way I could ever begin to explain to a Japanese person why in my culture it's a FUNNY SONG

I was EXTRA TICKLED that Kotti, who can't speak above a whisper off stage, was the one who got to run up onto a box and scream SO YOU THINK YOU CAN STONE ME AND SPIT IN MY EYE

Every viewing my body shook so hard from the effort it took to keep myself from making any sort of noise I wouldn't be surprised if everyone in my row could feel the tremors and I am honestly still tired just thinking about it

If this is cut I’m making a GoFundMe for the rights. Everyone start saving now please.

As a palate cleanser, Mineri sings a pop ballad in a gorgeous gown before the proper kuroenbi to Ai, which is a song that has a lot of nostalgic value for me personally, making it a very emotional backdrop to Sora leading an otokoyaku dance with the top star sparkles on her tailcoat and hitting that final pose with a heart-shattering bang. They reprise the two original theme songs for the parade, and that's Hustle Mates.

Additional notes from my particular viewings: I had a lucky aisle seat where Hanaki Maia, who I'm pretty obsessed with, serenaded me, and Mappu gave me a great smile and a little hand squeeze in lieu of a high five. I am completely charmed by Kotti, she's like a Great Dane that grew up and still thinks it's a lap dog—striking otokoyaku on the outside and a sweet shy earnest inside that hasn't quite caught up yet. Senshuuraku should be the day that shows up on Sky Stage eventually, but in the Partial Time Prison scene Homare Seri (playing Rhett Butler) started a really awkward slow clap with the audience in an attempt to ad lib, then had no idea where she wanted to go with it so she just gave SoraLucheni a big hug, and Moeko got flustered, decided that was enough, and cut off everyone’s laughter and applause by stepping in front of the action and saying her next line as loudly as possible.

My raku seat was close range, and after watching Sora’s perfectly calculated facial expressions, and the tiny backlit beads of sweat flying off her brow as she danced her heart out in HER SHOW, I'd sit in lava for her I love her so deeply.

#takarazuka #reviews #hustle mates #might as well just tell people I live here

31 notes · View notes

idolizerp · 6 years ago

Photo

LOADING INFORMATION ON INDIGO’S MAIN VOCAL PARK RUWON...

IDOL DETAILS

STAGENAME: N/A CURRENT AGE: 26 DEBUT AGE: 21 TRAINEE SINCE AGE: 19 COMPANY: MSG SECONDARY SKILL: Musical acting

IDOL PROFILE

NICKNAME(S): wonnie, vitamin d ( explained away as a revitalizing stand in for sunshine on variety, he cringes too ) INSPIRATION: a desire to soothe the souls of people the same way his favorite singers did growing up ( or so says his profile. it’s somewhat true, though his inspiration for why he became an idol singer in the first place was simply because he was unsure of his chances of making it in his originally desired career choice ). SPECIAL TALENTS:

can sing high enough to crack glass ( or so says his profile. he actually can’t, but he’ll try it out on variety and get into fake arguments with mcs about how they need to get their eyes checked when they inspect it after the fact and say he’s lying ).

killing point dances ( or so says his profile. he’s not the worst dancer in the entire world, but he is terrible at picking up and remembering choreography. he’ll usually recycle the same three dance moves while adamantly insisting he’s doing it perfectly, and that everyone still needs to get their eyes checked ).

can perfectly imitate any animal on cue ( or so says his profile. he does an alright pigeon and dog, and anything that’s technically silent. beyond that and it’s a bit of a stretch. when desperate, he’ll start insisting that motor vehicles also count, and that everyone needs to get their ears checked ).

NOTABLE FACTS:

was scouted at one of his university’s musical performances when he was in his first year. musical theater was his major.

he took a deferment from school but finished his degree between the years 2014-2016 when indigo was struggling and given smaller promotions as a result.

has become known as a musical actor, and before indigo appeared on re.group felt more recognized for that rather than being a member of indigo.

is known still as a ‘happy pill’ member after putting too much emphasis and overacting into variety during indigo’s debut when they were struggling.

has a biting sense of humor, though it’s often covered up and forgiven due to how he plays it off after ( he has a rather infectious laugh and innocent face ).

IDOL GOALS

SHORT-TERM GOALS:

as far as his career goes, ruwon has two goals. to try and keep the ball rolling with indigo’s newfound fame, and to continue to pad his resume as a musical theater performer. he wants to accumulate more lead roles and really prove himself as a singer, so he doesn’t have to keep seeing the word ‘idol’ stuck next to his name whenever he lands himself a role. like meat to critics wanting to rip casting directors for it.

LONG-TERM GOALS:

as far as where ruwon’s loyalties lie, it’s always been with his own aspirations. and his own aspiration has always been to make it on stage. but not on music shows. instead, the sort of stages that are strung up with heavy red curtains and have an orchestra to punctuate whatever outlandish story he’s singing about. what ruwon has always wanted to do was the become a musical theater performer. he took msg’s offer because he was unsure of his chances in his not-so-great university. but indigo is more of a stepping stone than anything. and in all honesty, indigo’s sudden surge of popularity only muddies the waters of ruwon’s future plans rather than revitalizes him

IDOL IMAGE

just like indigo itself, ruwon’s brand has changed and shifted along with the group’s image. it makes sense. version one didn’t work out. so it was erased. as well as ruwon, or who he was in the group ( to a certain extent ). sometimes ruwon wishes he’d gotten a stage name pushed at him, or cared enough to fight for one. then it would seem less personal. at the beginning, they were the same as everyone else under msg’s roster, eclectic, edgy, with one song sounding like 14 glued together and dances that ruwon really couldn’t keep up with. he could help carry the group vocally when they lowered the volume on their backing tracks at music shows, but ruwon hadn’t been signed as a dancer and it showed.

so how do you make fans love a member thrown into a clearly performance based group to balance out that vocal line, that can’t quite keep up? you make him infectiously happy! give that exec another raise, a true visionary. ruwon became a happy pill. and then an over the top one when it became clear that indigo were floundering and it was at least moderately easy for mcs to play off it at the few variety shows they were invited to. he’d laugh ( too loudly, because he needed to get a reaction ), he’d attempt to copy dances ( poorly, to get a laugh. cement an image of himself as the kid with two left feet ). make a big deal over his ‘special talents’ ( and try to turn it into a comedic bit, because who cared what ruwon was really interested in? ). ruwon was happy, bright, and comedic relief throughout indigo’s advent.

they slower down, a few years with one korean promotion each and ruwon left that persona for moments on camera. treated the man that did musicals as a different entity entirely. then the last-ditch variety show happened. they shot to fame, another member pulled in large viewership and popularity ( despite ruwon going out and making a fool of himself all those years, and for what? ) new music, new songs, new fans, another token comeback under an experimental idea for msg ( which, funnily enough, was to try out non-experimental ), and suddenly indigo is an entirely new group. it feels like it anyway.

gone are the days of choppy electronica and spending exhausting hours in a practice room trying to keep up, vocals coming second. it’s a concept that suits ruwon more, but now feels strange. his identity is shifted, subtly, to keep up. that old ruwon can’t just disappear. but he doesn’t need to be a tryhard anymore. sometimes he’s still regarded as annoying as he figures out how much to dial down, what to rewire and change. he’s allowed to shift his brand of humor as a result. a little more impish, a little snarkier. he covers it with a laugh, because now he can fall back on that old happy pill familiarity of just wanting everyone to have a good time. so he’s still pushed as humorous. he’s still pushed as bright. but now they try to push his talent, too. he’s getting more chances to push his interest forward with musicals now that they wanted indigo to be branded as a ‘talent-focused’ sort of group. it feels excessive, and it feels like a fluke. ruwon settles like a stranger into his own remodeled skin.

IDOL HISTORY

PARK RUWON – the fall, flatline, and slow climb of a unknown idol.

PLAYBOOK.

WHO’S WHO IN THE CAST?

a deadbeat father. he was probably a drunk, he probably hated his life, he probably hated his mother, and he probably hated ruwon himself. when presented with the possibility of divorce, he left and dropped the shame of raising a child as a single parent in his mother’s lap. probably off somewhere working on a ship yard. a small role, name unimportant.

a single mother. kim misook, managerial position at a private hospital. she had ruwon a little too young and divorced soon after. additional details of the marriage are withheld from ruwon ( and, subsequently, the audience ). deals with muted stress, often put ruwon first. managed to work her way into a better lifestyle over the years. now somewhat comfortable, but she was dealt a harder hand at the beginning.

their child. park ruwon, grew up without some of the opportunities of his peers. his mother couldn’t afford multiple after school academies or private kindergarten on a one parent salary. had some amount of talent when it came to singing. wouldn’t bench his dreams. is a quasi-mix of illogical, stubborn, and unresponsive to the realities of the world until they hit him hard.

msg. the entertainment company that signed him. whoever first started calling all those executives sharks was probably right.

indigo. the boys he was thrown into a group with. ruwon’s future distilled into a single, depressive color.

SYNOPSIS

ruwon doesn’t remember his father. he left too early, before memories formed and solidified. he’d been interested in him at first, like some kids in similar shoes. that lingering hope that he wasn’t abandoned. that he was a secret agent. or an astronaut, pioneering through space. the whimsical stories from the mind of a five year old not yet ready to hear the truth. eventually it was put to bed when ruwon got old enough to understand why his mother cried sometimes behind the locked door of the bathroom. curiosity turned into resentment. communities aren’t always nice to families in situations like theirs. and public schools aren’t always nice, either. bullying happens to everyone. someone’s too pretty, another is too ugly. he’s too short and she’s not smart enough. ruwon’s parents were divorced. that was what got him picked on when he was younger. and then in trouble later, with reddened knuckles and a scowl in place. his mother’s sad eyes when a teacher explained that ruwon had lashed out and used physical violence when he could’ve used words. that was his childhood. not all bad. not all good.

when he gets older, he discovers singing. music. it’s high school and he’s in a club. he likes the stage, and picking roles. getting to pretend to be someone he isn’t for the duration of the show. he likes the music, everything sung out and emotionally high or low in a way that feels so much more gripping to him than anything in a movie. he falls in love with the stage. that stage. his mother’s sad eyes come back when ruwon wants to treat this seriously. when he tells her he wants to get it together, study harder for the entrance exam. that his music teacher thinks he has real talent, not just the sort they tell kids to make them feel better about themselves. but that maybe he could pull it off, this dream. turn it into a career. that one in a million shot. those one in a million shots are helped along by people with the money needed to push them along though, and his mother knows this. so he lives with heavy lunged sighs and subtle shakes of her head whenever he brings it up, like that will dissuade him. it doesn’t, because he isn’t yet ready to face reality. he wants to keep believing he can squeeze into his pipe dream. he’s seen his mother’s life, and he doesn’t understand why he has to do it too. why he should keep living for the miserable and rote. he wants to make it. he wants to get into a good school. a really great one, where he can network his way onto a bigger stage.

but ruwon doesn’t. because life isn’t a fairy tale, and reality didn’t just walk away because he wanted to be illogical. he was an average student, and he got an average score. an average ( or below average, depending on who got asked ) university admitted him to their okay musical theater program. and even as ruwon studied, and took his classes, made friends and auditioned for school productions, it all felt so pointless. foreshadowed regret. where was he going to go once he got his degree? a worthwhile piece of paper in a sea of kids who could all sing, who were all talented?

reality isn’t a fairy tale, but every once in a while people get a little lucky. after a school production his first year, he was seen and pulled by a talent scout at msg. a coincidence, their niece was in the orchestra performing the same day. they were looking for a vocalist, and ruwon had an alright enough look, so they gave him a card and told him to stop by on the audition date msg was hosting soon. the card got him through the door and granted him a little more attention than some of the others packed into the room with him. and even sitting there, in an uncomfortable plastic chair, ruwon felt like a fraud. he’d gone only because he’d realized he was an idiot. that he should’ve listened to his mother all along. thought that maybe if the gods shined down upon him he could use it as his opportunity to climb out of the hole he’d dug himself into.

the god must have been someone nonsensical, with an enjoyment of black humor. ruwon got into the company. he was stronger vocally than most of the other boys he trained with. maybe not surprising, since msg leaned toward dance and performance. he lagged behind them all massively in those two very areas. he put his school on deferral, his mother sighed some more, stared at him sadly over plates of food at dinner before he was eventually moved into trainee dorms. ruwon treated it like school, because that’s what he’d turned it into in his mind. he still wanted to be in musical theater, this was just a different rig to climb to get there. so he tried. he stayed late in an attempt to learn dances that didn’t come very naturally to him. he sat through lessons on how to look properly into a camera, or answer questions on variety. when he was selected for the final lineup of indigo, it felt surreal. he was added for his vocals, he wasn’t an all rounder and he didn’t personify msg’s style. but he could sing pretty damn well. that was supposed to be his big break. but it wasn’t.

MUSICAL NUMBERS

ACT 1

FACE. it’s their debut. it hurts ruwon’s ears. he hates it in the same way some of the others seem to love it – with a passion. it sounds like two songs fused together forcibly, and he’s not even sure why they’ve decided to add him to the group if they’re just layering auto-tune over his voice anyway. but he accepts it, he knew what he was getting into. he accepts his newfound image, and his role on variety shows. he does his best to pull attention for the group. he’s never been shy. and he wants this. maybe not in the same way as some of his group mates, but he wants it to work out. it’s a two-tiered plan. indigo succeeds, and then ruwon can ask about doing what he wants to. but the song doesn’t garner a whole lot of acclaim or attention. they scrape together the beginnings of a fanbase, some fallouts from the previous boy group msg housed, and some from their subpar showings. but it’s not always instant success, and msg is a fairly popular company. they just need to keep a positive face.

ACTION. this one, somehow, manages to do even worse. it’s both more all over the place and boring, which manages to shock critics for all the wrong reasons. their fanbase doesn’t grow exponentially. their song doesn’t chart. they get invited to even less variety shows than last time. ruwon acts out and makes a fool of himself whenever a camera is pointed at him out of desperation that someone will find him funny, that the group will get a call-back. whenever his mom calls, she sighs into the receiver. despite the static, he can hear the disappointment and judgement. he has no way of explaining that getting painted up in sparkles just to be ignored by pre-teens is in any way a good idea. he gets quieter, when the cameras are off. when the door closes in his shared room. he gets permission from the company to go back and continue his degree.

BEEP BEEP. does anyone even know they made a comeback? even when msg gets around to buying them a promotional pann, it’s always just spammed with who??? and it seems pointless. he still has debt. probably way more than he would’ve accrued if he just stayed in university. he’s a giant mistake of a boy, and he wonders at night how many more mistakes he’ll continue to make. if he’s just going around punching holes in his own godforsaken life, busy calling it interior decorating before he realizes years later he’s just ripping himself apart. he doesn’t sleep well. he focuses on school work, and people don’t even recognize him in the lecture halls. he goes out and auditions on his own for a role in a musical. his guidance counselor passes along the information, figures he might have a chance even if he isn’t a top star, sub-par name value if they squint. he manages to get an alternate role. it should make him happy. but ruwon’s now drowning in debt and frustrated with himself. his choices. he is a little happy though, when that curtain falls.

OVERCOME. it’s at this point that even the company refers to them as a failure. not to their faces. but ruwon hears about it. msg’s failed group. which just means ruwon the failure, doesn’t it? there’s a whole identity crisis that comes with it, but ruwon takes the opportunity of the company ignoring him to finish up his degree. he auditions for more musicals and starts to get more roles. he decides he doesn’t mind so much that indigo’s not doing great. he doesn’t have to put up with their songs, doesn’t have to spend too many hours learning dances, or coming up with new and stupid ways to start shouting on variety shows. he owes msg too much money, and they take cuts from his paychecks. but he has a place to live. he’s performing, doing the job he’d sought out to do. he’s not comfortable, but he’s complacent.

ACT 2

DEJA VU. re.group happened. it was one of those last ditch efforts before msg was planning to throw them overboard like a dead carp. for some reason, re.group got really popular. insanely popular. people knew their names. msg tried a different approach to music, something to match the show and their newfound fans. something that fit ruwon’s own skill set and range a little better. and then they were off, like a firecracker in the dark. ruwon wasn’t ready for it.

WHERE YOU AT. firecrackers eventually fizzle out. so msg crammed in another comeback soon after the last, to make the most money off of their success before it died down. ruwon wasn’t used to the pacing, and was suddenly presented with the expectation to do all of the things he hadn’t even enjoyed that much. his image had to be tweaked, parts disregarded. a group rebranded in an attempt to keep this spark stoked. ruwon didn’t think any amount of magic could turn it into a fire.

HELP ME. this is where the exhaustion starts setting in. ruwon had never been overworked quite like this. reject groups don’t get pushed onto so many shows, into so many photoshoots, with so many performances and talks of concerts. when he falls into bed, he aches. there’s a melancholy that grows, and he doesn’t know how to deal with it because he doesn’t know why it’s there. despite the group’s turnaround, despite how he doesn’t even mind their music, despite how he’s able to still pursue his passions, it’s still completely different from the life he’d decided was alright. was his own. there’s more attention, and the expectations stack higher. ruwon feels like a fraud, an imposter wearing perfectly printed skin.

BEAUTIFUL PAIN. the new year rolls around and indigo’s popularity snowballs. msg is delighted, and happy enough to push the new angle of their music if it means money, even if it’s a little out of the box for msg’s signature sound. ruwon tries to get more accustomed to the fame. to the fans. to the new dynamic of their group. ruwon tries to better balance his time, and tries not to get so frustrated with himself when it still takes him twice, sometimes three times as long to nail down the same choreography as his group mates. he starts acting like a wise ass on tv. a new brand of loud, like it will somehow offset the reclusive way he shuts down when he’s finally allowed to sit by himself at home.

IT’S OKAY. his mother doesn’t sigh when she calls him anymore. it should count as a victory. there’s still debt, but he knows indigo is pulling in decent money now. ruwon wants to focus more on himself, on his musicals. but the group is still shaky-legged. they have public appeal, and a bigger fandom than before, but it’s not otherworldly. they’re no atlas, no olympus. they could be swallowed by that pit of anonymity once more, if they’re not too careful.

REMEMBER THAT. his father does sigh when ruwon picks up the phone. it’s long suffering and sounds like bronchial pain. i didn’t want to leave you. but you mother. you mother. you were in a bad spot too, ruwon. you understand, right? ruwon does understand. he hates him, but he still gives him that money he asks for. like tithings at a church, paying for forgiveness you’re not even sure exists.

WAY BACK HOME. a new year. again. tired sighs. uncomfortable silence. suppressed thoughts and desires, bending at the whim of others. a reaction to please them. he smiles too much, until his cheeks ache. he laughs, louder. until he can’t hear himself think. this is his job. until the curtain falls.

#id.bio #id.byun baekhyun #id.msg #id.indigo #id.milkclub

1 note · View note

forsakenoathkeeper · 6 years ago

Text

One More Tomorrow

Shuu Sakamaki x Sora Yasutake One More Tomorrow [ Part 1/? ]

⚠ Please be wary of adult content, such as explicit sexual content, acts of violence, description of gore and blood, use of foul language, abuse, trauma, and other potentially sensitive materials ⚠

Part 2

When she woke that late afternoon, it was to the smell of fresh rain soaking into the old foundation: musky, earthly. It brought out the best qualities in this old cottage, and the worst. The rain made the small house smell strongly like an old house would. There was a leak at one of the east side windows, though it wasn’t too major. Yet, somehow, it was comfortable, like something out of a whimsical dream.

The tapping sounds of water pummeling the roof was drowned out by the melodies pouring out of the buds tucked into the young woman’s ears. The setting sun normally cast blinding light through the gaps in the curtains; however, the room was dim this afternoon, the covered window dark, unmoving curtains likely blocking the grey clouds that hovered in the sky above.

At some point during her slumber, she had wrapped herself tight in the thick blanket. It was mid autumn and the ocean was a measly fifty miles or so. Wildflowers bloomed almost all year, ravaging sidewalks and the edges of the roads like weeds. It was hardly a cold town, and yet she always shivered and sniffled as though it was, with skin pale, face lacking in pigments, and fingers cold to the touch.

Consciousness steadily came to her and she realized Chopin’s Raindrops had been playing. It was the most fitting coincidence: the free falling rain, the chill in the air, and the setting sun. It all fit in beautiful harmony with the piano and violin spewing from her ear buds. It was an afternoon unlike one she had had in a very long time. She felt oddly excited in that moment, like there was something extravagant waiting outside.

But, when she rose to a seated position in her bed, the earbuds fell loose and landed in her lap. For a brief moment, she was unmoving, frozen as if she had suddenly been violently torn from one reality to another. The deafening silence of the empty cottage was overwhelming. Despite the crackling of the rain and the grumbling of distant thunder, she could hear the empty halls, the vacant rooms, the untouched chairs, the dusty cabinets... white noise that was consuming, swallowing, so painfully... loud.

She grabbed the earbuds and shoved them back into her ears before pressing her palms over the buds, fingers over the conch of her ear, pressing tight as if to block out the silence and trap the music inside. Her head lowered until curtains of brown locks fell over her shoulder and hid her face, some strands pooling at her waist and resting heavy on her thigh.

She drowned out the solitude with the music, hoping she had enough time to finish the song before it was time to get up. She lifted her head and her eyes followed the cord that trailed from the buds towards the side of the bed where her phone laid. She reached over and tapped the screen once to see the black illuminate the time: 6:27. Three minutes until her alarm went off... The song wouldn’t be over in three minutes, but... She fell back on her pillows as if it would.

The lobby was empty and silent for the most part, with the exception of a single business man who was seated at one of the lush arm chairs, clicking away at the mobile computer on his lap. She didn’t understand why he felt the need to do that here, in the dead of night, as opposed to the comfort and solitude of his bedroom; however, judging by his receding hairline and cheap suit, he needed someway to feel important. Working with an audience seemed like a way to achieve that, if she gave a damn, which she did not.

She paid him virtually no attention, and focused on the filing that needed to be done behind the counter. She moved like a conscious-less being, hunching over to file paperwork into the proper drawer then standing back up to continue sorting through the pile atop the counter, before continuing the process: like a machine, with great precision.

A normal person likely would have held resentment for the day shift; after all, they left her this mountain of paperwork, every day, without fail. It would be waiting for her and she would finish it before her shift ended, also without fail. Of course, the day staff wouldn’t dare leave such a mess if they didn’t know she would do it.

She was quiet, she had no interest in their lives... Perhaps, they saw that as an exploitable weakness. Sometimes, she wondered if they were right - if her lack of desire to combat them on their laziness was her passively accepting these aggressions: like a living stepping stone. But... she had yet to say a word, yet to combat their behavior. She just did the paperwork.

The night shift was slow, it was easy, and it worked for her. It was difficult to explain why she was a natural night owl. She simply slept well during the blazing daylight hours, and was wide awake and alert at night. Oddly... the days felt hazy, felt exhausting and long. Nights felt serene, like she could sense everything more acutely. It just felt... right.

It continued to rain through the entirety of her shift. She had intentionally opened a window to let the soothing aromas waft in. It made the place colder, but she didn’t really mind. She set the fire place in the grand lobby and considered it adequate, a warmth to ward off the cold without disrupting the ambiance she was trying to enjoy.

Setting the fireplace paid off when an old couple arrived and waited patiently for a room to be prepared for them, huddled up and farm in front of the fire. Then arrived another business man... then another... A middle aged woman arrived at some point. The woman had yapped on about her life, as if the desk attendant had a single care. She nodded, responded minimally, and was polite, and the woman seemed pleased with that.

Then, suddenly, it was four in the morning, and the next lobby attendant had arrived to relieve her. “Oh my-!” the girl had proclaimed, suddenly. “The window was open the entire time! You poor thing... Must have been freezing!” Although she wasn’t, she smiled and fawned innocence of the ordeal. She was believable, and that was all that mattered. Explaining why the cold didn’t bother her, why the rain smelt so good, would be... difficult.

As always, it had gone by so quickly... Another day, another group of stranger’s faces, another paycheck... She didn’t feel tired, like a normal person would after working. She felt distant, like she was watching someone else’s life float by. Instead of witnessing it, she was experiencing it. But-... No. This was her life. Night shift hostess at the Doroftei Hotel, a day’s drive outside of Bucharest. A quiet, empty cottage waiting for her to return.

“Sow...”

She didn’t need to look up from her book to know who that was, but found it impossible to resist a small smile. Even if he hadn’t chosen to greet her in Japanese, his deep voice gave him away without fail. The bench she was seated at trembled slightly when he plopped down next to her. She closed her book and removed the earbud from her left ear - having decided to leave the right sight unoccupied less someone beckon to her - before peaking at him in the corner of her eye.

There were few ways to explain the attachment she had to him. By all means, it made no logical sense. She didn’t remember where they met, under what circumstances or why. She just knew him. He was her only friend. There was a familiarity that came with his company. They didn’t exchange pleasantries like strangers, ask pointless questions about one and other’s lives. They sat, side by side, like they had known each other forever.

It had been nearly a week since she last saw him. To her delight, he looked healthy today, with his hair tied in its unusual mess of a ponytail, a sort of glimmer in his amber eyes. She never asked why he would disappear for odd amounts of time, drawing the conclusion that he was traveling frequently to find work. His hands often looked rough, sometimes he had bags under his eyes, sometimes his eyes were red and tired, sometimes he-... just didn’t look right. Some part of her mind told him not to press, as if she already knew the answer... an answer she had forgotten.

He didn’t look directly at her, but sat with a long arm swung over the back of the bench, leaning back comfortably, legs spread in a masculine manner. She had paused her reading, out of respect, out of the comfort of his company. They didn’t really speak, merely sat together in silence at the town square.

It wasn’t a city; but, even the quaint little village didn’t sleep at night. The town gardens were illuminated with magnificent lights and a living fountain where the streams and spouts glowed. Cars drove by frequently, but not obnoxiously so. College students from the nearby universities stormed the bars and theaters. Couples sought one and other in the night like secret lovers. It wasn’t what most would consider a good place to read. But, she liked it. It was... alive.

“You’re not eating right,” he suddenly blurted. She directed her gaze at him and saw he was sitting upright now, arms crossed, looking down at her in utter disappointment. The look was kinda scary; yet, she felt no unease under his amber gaze. She didn’t even try to make an excuse or deny his claim, but merely muttered a pathetic, “sorry...”

“The fuck-” he immediately scoffed back at her. She must have made a face because he suddenly snapped his mouth shut and looked anxious, like he was searching for better words. Eventually, he gave up on the subtle approach. “Ya’ should be eating more - way more. Ya’ look like you’re gonna kill over. What is it? ...hah?”

She looked away, feeling suddenly uneasy from his harsh stare and questioning. She had never really had much of an appetite, really. But, lately, she just... wasn’t hungry. It wasn’t an active choice. She wasn’t trying to lose weight or lashing out at the universe. She just... forgot. She was never hungry. The thought to eat rarely occurred unless she remembered that she had forgotten.

“I-... Where is this coming from?” she asked, not harshly or defensively. Rather, she sounded embarrassed over his concern for her health. It wasn’t modesty, but the fact that she didn’t want him to make a big deal about it. “Ahh?” he retorted, tone loud and questioning. “Ya’ look sick - that’s where,” he explained. “Sow-”

“Don’t worry about it,” she interrupted, almost snapping at him. “I’m fine. I don’t need you to-” he huffed, loud enough to interrupt her, before he barked, “like hell,” in a firm, denying tone. “You look-” Again, she interrupted him. “-terrible. I got it. Thanks.” Somehow, through this bickering, she had managed to avoid looking at him, until now. Maybe she expected him to look angry. Instead, he looked-... lost.

“....dying,” he finished, a bit sourly. His eyes had narrowed, but there was no angry in them. Rather, his brow hung low in unease. His mouth opened for a second as he contemplated something, before snapping it shut. She did the same, flapping her jaw for a moment as she searched for the right words. “I’m not... I’ll-... I’ll try to eat better... okay?”

As she stood up, gathered her shoulder bag, and shoved her book inside, she did her best to ignore the expression on the man’s face. He didn’t believe her; but, he couldn’t combat it. “Tch,” he scoffed, looking away almost childishly. “Bye, Yuma,” she said, giving a very slight, almost unnoticeable bow, before turning away from him. She made a single step before he called out to her.

“Sora-...” If she had ever heard him call her properly by her name, it had been such a long time that she couldn’t remember. It made her tremble uncomfortably, feel heavy and ungrounded at the same time. It made her head rattle as if she had just been shaken violently. She turned back to him.

“Forget it,” he said, almost immediately, before her eyes could even catch his gaze again. Just like that, he was gone. The bench was empty, and she was alone, and she wondered... if he was ever there.

#shuu sakamaki #shuu sakamaki x oc #shuu sakamaki x sora yasutake #diabolik lovers

38 notes · View notes

chronicbatfictioner · 6 years ago

Text

Theater of the Soul - Chapter 25

"Ready?"

"Let it roll, Demetrius."

"Come and get me, Lysander."

Tim watched from the rafters as Dick and Jason bantered easily, both already in costume. Tonight will be Jason's 'farewell' from A Midsummer Night's Dream. For good. He would be Demetrius, and get his self-proclaimed "lifelong dream of fighting Dickiebird." Stephanie will continue to be Puck. The house was filled to the brims, tickets flying out the ticketmasters as soon as the show was announced a few weeks ago. Tonight will be Jason's final appearance in Midsummer, and his premiere return to the Wayne House's roster.

All on his 17th birthday.

And Tim will record them all in photographs, including the pre-curtain call bickering.

"Hey little bird, come down here for a sec." Jason suddenly called him. Tim obliged and swung himself down, landing right in front of Jason. "How about a good luck kiss?" Jason asked, wrapping his arms around Tim.

"You know that cavorting me could get you arrested, right?" Tim joked, only hesitating for a fraction of a second before pressing himself closer to Jason. It took the family all but three dates in two weeks to catch on. And Tim could still see Bruce's tender smile and Dick's unabashed squeal when he and Jason confirmed that they were going out. Oh, that, and a plethora of condoms that magically appeared in his bedroom drawers - and he suspected in Jason's too. Because... well, Tim still wasn't sure if it was Dick or Stephanie; or the conspiracy between the two who would always feign innocence whenever they were confronted.

Jason rolled his eyes. "You're two years younger, Timothy. Not twenty." he scowled.

"Okay then," Tim stood on tiptoe, pressing a kiss onto Jason's lips. Savoring the warmth, the slight taste of chocolate and mint, and Jason-ness. Until somebody coughed behind him.

"Get a room, children." Stephanie scowled. "Now come give me my good luck kiss, mascot!" she demanded, tugging Tim's shirt.

"Mascot?!?" Tim squawked indignantly. But he kissed Stephanie, anyway, way more chaste than his kiss for Jason.

"Oh, I agree. Stay small, Timbit." Harper chimed in and stole a kiss on Tim.

"Why do I get to be a mascot??" Tim whined. "Also, Harper, you're not getting on stage. Why are you kissing me??"

"Because we love you, squirt." Dick declared, adding, "The one true Robin Goodfellow of the House of Wayne." before settling on bear-hugging Tim.

"Good luck, guys." Tim finally managed, after the entire cast went past him. Except Jason. "Good luck," Tim told Jason, as the latter stood in front of him looking whimsical. "I'm definitely not gonna tell you to break anything." Tim grinned. Jason might still need a crutch when walking on stage; but the costume department worked around the clock to create a costume that would provide a crutch for Jason's legs, yet not looked out of place in the period costume.

"Mascot..." Jason mused, sidling closer to Tim again and placed his hands on either side of Tim's waist. "You're my mascot, birdie."

Tim pouted at him jokingly. "Fine," he said, standing on his tiptoe to hook his chin on Jason's shoulder as Jason swayed them both slightly.

"Wanna make it permanent?"

"In five to six years, maybe. Ask me again." Tim grinned, feeling the pitter-patter of his heart.

A flash suddenly sparked from their left, and Tim looked around just in time to see Barbara grinning impishly. "For posterity's sake." she said, waving her cellphone. "Alfred will want this framed."

Tim laughed, tightening his arms around Jason. There will be more photos and memories, he was sure. The bird photo, the little red robin that started to fix everything, has been framed in a human-sized frame in front of Jason's bed over the fireplace. "Just to remind me that I'm home," Jason had said. "maybe one day I'll replace that thing with like, a tiger or whatever's deemed masculine or a superhero or something. Right now, I just want it there."

Tim believed him. After all, it was the bird who had brought Jason home.

At the night's end, when Bruce called everyone on stage for an encore, somebody dragged Tim along. "Come on, Tim! Get on there!"

It took Tim a few seconds to realize that it was Cullen, who unceremoniously tossed him into Jason's arm just as Bruce called, "...and this family, the family of the Wayne and Kane House, thankd you all for coming and welcoming our family to entertain you. We could never make it without you!" he turned, glaring at Tim at the last word.

Tim hid his blushing face on Jason's chest, and felt the rumble of laughter. "he's right," Jason remarked. "Take a bow, Timmers!" he pushed Tim forward a little, in time for Bruce to remark, '...to introduce to you, the true Robin Goodfellow of our House: Tim Drake!'

Tim glared at the lights and silhouettes of people behind it for several long seconds until somebody grabbed his shoulder. "Bow!" Jason's voice insisted.

So Tim took a few bows, amidst the applause.

"Tim might not be right there on the stage, but he keeps the memories of our house alive and archived." Bruce explained. "...and starting tomorrow, we shall present to you some of the archives, with commentaries from those who were there--"

Oh, right. Tonight might be Jason's last night in 'Midsummer Night's'. But tomorrow, Tim's gallery would open, right there at the Wayne House's lobby, to display the photographs he had taken through the years. It was Jason's idea, and Bruce supported it thoroughly; and then promoted it to the point where there was no way Tim could get away from it.

And Tim knew, it was for him. So that he shall be known as Tim the photographer. Not Tim the poor not-actor child of actor-and-actress Jack and Janet Drake. Not Tim the replacement Puck. Just as Tim, the photographer. Memory-keeper.

Tim looked at Jason, still a little flabbergasted long after they all got off the stage. "Whaddya say we make more memories, birdie?" Jason said, handing him a bag.

Tim laughed. "This is your birthday! I'm supposed to be the one giving you a gift!"

"Consider that thing a belated birthday gift. I'm still gonna be paying for it through the next few gigs." Jason grinned. "Go on, open it!"

Tim grinned, reached into the bag and pulled out a yellow-pad-paper wrapped box. He rolled his eyes. "Really," he deadpanned.

"Stuff it. I can't find anyone who'll get me pretty papers to wrap it who won't tattle on me to you." Jason scowled. "Just tear through it!"

"I will, oh my gosh, patience!" Tim retorted, and decided to do just asked, tear through it - after failing to find the ending of the sellotape. He gasped once it was opened. "Oh my god! Jason!"

"Yeah, hi. I don't know if it's good or not. I just asked the guy at the store for the best there is and he gave me this. It's not the most expensive, but like, he said-- he said it's the best and all that... especially for motion and/or high activity and--" Jason spluttered.

"Jason. shut up! This is awesome!" Tim tore through the box of the high-end camera he had been saving up to buy. And then remembered something. "You owed somebody for this."

"Sure, Bruce. I'm paying it with my salary." Jason shrugged.

"Jason, you don't have to--"

"Oh no, I don't have to," Jason cut him off. "I just want to. That's one thing that'll worth my weight in gold in your hands." He paused suddenly, expression turned solemn. "It was your photo that brought my memory back. The gallery might be a mere colorful and fun pictures to see for everyone else. For me, it's... the literal thing that's worth all the gold in the world, right? I mean," he shrugged. "Yeah. Anyway. Everything started with your camera, right? I'd like it to end with your camera and retain your love of it. Hopefully, of me, too."

Tim smiled shyly. "That's really cheesy," he commented. "but profound."

"I'm made of profundity."

Tim snorted and laughed. "Cheesy McCheese with extra cheese on profundity. You're alright," he said.

"Yeah, you too, birdie." Jason ruffled his hair. "Now let's go to the mess hall. Alfred's gonna kill us if I'm late. I'm the birthday boy, after all!" Even after Jason refused a birthday party, Alfred still insisted on throwing a post-show celebration dinner for all of them. Emphasis on 'them' instead of Jason, and thus prevented Jason from bailing out entirely.

"Thank you," Tim said, a little belatedly as they walked side by side to the dining hall - the 'mess' hall.

"Timmy, just let me know whatever you need to keep you happy, yeah?"

"Diamond blings?"

"Anything that doesn't require the blood of innocent. Besides, aren't you a little too young for diamonds?"

Tim laughed. "Anything?"

"Yep, you've done so much for the lot of us. Let us - me, especially - help you stay happy."

Tim paused at the door of the dining hall, letting Jason walked in first and basked in the 'happy birthday' greetings. Everyone was there. There were new people - imports from the Kane House when they merged with Wayne House; including Kate Kane herself who was sitting next to Barbara. The two redheads - Kate with her bob-cut and Barbara with her long flowing locks - looked almost like sisters. Even Barbara's father, James Gordon, was there.

Otherwise, most were the people Tim has gotten to know for quite some time. In other occasions, the family would sit everywhere they want. Tonight, they were grouped at the head of the table, with two empty chairs for Jason and Tim placed side-by-side. All have started eating, but given Alfred's propensity for - at least - six-course meals, they weren't going to be finished soon.

Jason took a seat nearer to the head of the table, next to Bruce; and Tim took the next one. Dick and Barbara across them, next to each other.

Tim didn't want to cringe, but he must have - because Jason elbowed him lightly just when Bruce started tinkling his spoon against his wine glass. "Everyone, may I have your attention please!" he called out and stood up.

Jason groaned unabashedly. "I thought the speech part is over..."

"I'm a dramatic person. Bear with me." Bruce quipped. "Pardon me for interrupting your feast. But I thought it would be proper to make it official. Let this feast be the mark of the new Wayne and Kane House of Family Theater. May it bring happiness to those who came across it; and deter anyone thinking to cross it." There were choruses of 'amen', 'hear ye!' and the equivalent thereof. "Enjoy the meal!" Bruce closed and sat back down amidst the applause. "As for you two, young men..." he glared at Tim and Jason alternately.

"Ruh-roh..."

"We in trouble, Scoob..." Tim squeaked jokingly.

"No you're not in trouble. Not now, at least - or not that I know of..." Bruce turned toward Alfred with one eyebrow cocked in question. Alfred's small smirk assured him. "Just... if either of you find any mischiefs that might be a long con, let me know, yeah? I might hire somebody to make a play out of it."

"Whaaa...??" Jason squawked. "Seriously??"

"Yes," Bruce assured him. "I have started the process - just an outline for now. It would be great if you can help me with some of the details. Not to capitalize on your misery, but..."

"Oh no, I'm not offended. My entire life in the past few years could be enough to be a PSA warning for anyone looking for all that glitters in Hollywood. I'm just... who'd be interested in that kind of cliché?"

"Sane people," Kate Kane replied with a small smirk. "And you're right, it could be a PSA. But it will be a start. I shall lead the script-writing department, and I would love some help, if neither of you all mind." she addressed the last comment to include Barbara and Dick.

"I'll do the proofreading part. When it comes to imagination, you might want to rely on these two--" Barbara pointed to Jason and Dick. "fact checks, him or me." she added, pointing to Tim. "Schematic or pattern check, him."

"Cool! So we get to tell the adventure - our adventure, with a lot of artistic liberty. Can we make the villain look like, really creepy? 'It' clown kind of creepy?" Jason wanted to know.

"We can do whatever we want," Bruce agreed. "You can be in drag if you want - because I can always rely on Barbara to assess the rating later."

Tim looked at Jason, the latter looking excited at the prospect and started suggesting medieval and/or early 18th century Americas as the background, and started bickering with Dick about the lack of youtube in either era which would "poke a hole on the plot so big your ego could drive through it,"

Tim looked up just in time to catch a soft smile on Alfred's commonly-stoic face. The old man caught his eyes, and smiled at him. Tim smiled back.

Tonight might be the end of A Midsummer Night's Dream; but for the Wayne and Kane House, tonight shall be the first step to the future.

#Jason Todd #Tim Drake #SoulTheater!AU #no-capeAU #batfam #Dick Grayson #Stephanie Brown #Harper Row #Cullen Row #Barbara Gordon #Kate Kane #Bruce Wayne #Alfred Pennyworth #JayTim

5 notes · View notes

willowgust · 7 years ago

Text

He Had It Coming!

(( ...Yeah. I decided to do the thing. This is either going to be really funny or really stupid lmao ))

CLANG. The dark stage is contoured by a murky light. Though obscure for now, the set is grungy and cold. Lonely drips of water echo from an unknown basin.

This is what makes the human sitting cordially behind a desk so out of place. His rectangular, long-limbed build is dressed in a prison warden’s uniform. The slight crinkle of his face and receding hairline suggest he’s in his mid-forties. Otherwise swathed into a neat crop, some errant strands of hair frame his large forehead, its near-black shade a stark contrast to his pasty complexion. Noticeably thin lips huddle underneath the umbrella of his mustache, which sits beneath his slim, arrowlike nose. This monk is a cocktail of courtly rigidity, of-the-earth heartiness, and dry farce. His critical hazel gaze lends an air of unerring clout, but he’s equitable. Cool-mannered. Proper.

With an amenable huskiness, his sing-song accent finally announces with lightly flipped R’s, “And now for something completely dif--”

“Whoooa whoa whoa. Slow down Sir Nunchuckington,” a lean, angular figure struts onstage. “You wanna get your Gilnean ass sued? This thing’s live.”

Qaradoc turns to quirk a brow at the Sin’dorei.

He wears a tuxedo. A golden earring dangles from his ear, cradling a ruby. The cuff of his partial ponytail is gold and sapphire. And yet he couldn’t act more self-assuredly blasé if he donned sandals and a Bilgewater-print shirt. It’s like he stole from a show host’s trailer on his way to pick up pizza. Even the gunslinger’s voice is unceremonious- comically so. His disenchanted eyes, creased at the edges, are such a saturated green they could probably be mistaken for glowing moss agates. Underneath, his low cheekbones look lumped into his face. His skin has a markedly red undertone, a color that dulls his shoulder-length hair and pointed goatee to a pallid sandy brown.

Qaradoc responds with a flat, stiff-lipped glare. “...Had this blooming stage not been a conceptual absurdity of cross-faction, cross-dimensional rubbish, I assure you you’d be popping daisies before you could utter the words ‘mana wyrm jubblies.’”

Oshiban’s disarming smirk is quick, but sardonic. “Well at least you pull off exposition like a bandaid.” A slow, jazzy beat fills the room as he directs the same expression at you. “Charming guy, am I right? And now,” he raises his voice, “with my buddy Seo-yun taking it away on piano, ladies and gentlemen, the reason I never call any of you ladies back: The six merry murderesses of--!”

“AAAARGH!! F’NUU ULN’FWAHE FWSSSH!” rips out an unearthly Eldritch shriek. It tore from the throat of a doll-like, pre-adolescent girl in a cell on the other side of the stage, which just lit up. Qiraji battleguard armaments adorn her gangly body. The very air around this menace feels multiple levels of wrong. Her fierce, blindingly white stare is enough to freeze the hair on one’s spine. The rest of her face is thankfully hidden behind a veil. She doesn't look older than eleven, which arguably makes her all the more unsettling.

Aloft on dragonfly-esque wings, the little Qiraji furiously rams herself against the bars.

Oshiban’s eyes bulge with alarm. “...Well some little lady forgot her teddy-bear-shaped sedatives today.”

Baffled but unfazed, Qaradoc knits his forehead. “What in blazes is that cell doing out of solitary confinement?” he asks disapprovingly. “Guards!”

“Ugh,” he tosses his eyes up, “if I take care of this will it get you to yank that jolly good stick out of your ass? I’m on it. By the way I was only half joking - I want some numbers.” Oshiban crouches, vanishing into stealth.

“Well tough cheese!” Qaradoc derides. “Two are spoken for, another’s underage, and that leaves you with a Ren’dorei. Unless you prefer much older women. One of which is quite literally decaying.”

“Whatever,” says a disembodied voice.

As the cage rolls backstage 'inexplicably’ (for Oshiban’s safety), Zja’heed lets out another vicious scream: “DEATH TO THE TITAN ABOMINATIONS! C’THUN FWA’YIL ZJAAA!!” Then she’s gone.

Qaradoc shakes his head. “Several sandwiches short of a picnic,” he mutters, before snapping his attention back at you. “Ladies and gentlemen, Park Seo-yun Whalecarver and the six merry murderesses are proud to present a rather silly rendition of the Cell Block Tango. Enjoy. At least then one of us will.” He offers a polite nod. The spotlight above him fades.

He and the desk slowly drift offstage, revealing six, bleakly illuminated cells each containing a burlesque woman. Underneath blue-tinted lights, they all wear variations of knee-high boots, stockings, mini tube tops and skirts.

Off to the side, a Pandaren wavespeaker in another tuxedo drums his paws across the piano keys. So scruffy is this wharf bum that it comes off vaguely threatening, if not for his expression: He can’t seem to decide if he’s uneasy or aroused. He's tall, pear-gutted, and blubbery. The fur coating his mountainous body is dull with wear. A haggard beard splays out irregularly from his cheeks to his chin, hosting a braided goatee kinked with split ends. The shaggy mop over his head hasn't seen a brush in... ever, but is knitted with strips of leather, yarn, and painted beads. His icy-blue eyes are beady, his stare simple.

The tune is slow. Suggestive. There’s a broad medley of women behind those bars. From left to right: a Gray Sith indulged in bird taming and meteorology, a Force-sensitive medic prone to using herbalism, a Gray Jedi and ex-noble with a penchant for explosives, a Yibbish priestess and homemaker balanced in Light and Shadow, a Republic sergeant whose tinkered inventions are inspired by entomology, and a Tanari illusionist who explores magic with mathematics. Half of them appear to be in their late twenties, early thirties.

The Gray Sith is a tall Twi’lek with turquoise skin. Her energy feels born for musical theater. She’s svelte and pear-shaped, with slender arms and narrow shoulders. An elegant tiara crowns her forehead. She conveys a feisty but carefree grace; it’s easy to imagine her running barefoot across a meadow. Her motions are pithy - bird-like in a way, the notion accentuated by long, maroon talons. Tattooed with streamline patterns and weaved in black ribbons, her stubby lekku resemble pigtail braids. Her lips are dramatically cupid-shaped and half-painted in mulberry lipstick. A stud gilds her gently hooked nose, and her large, moon-silver eyes are framed in violet wings. They’re puckish and spirited.

The medic, another Twi’lek, is ocean blue and clearly family. Beneath another opulent tiara, the round smoothness of her face and adolescent slouch made her pre-adulthood undeniable, no more than 17. Her mousy posture has a sense of both dignity and humdrum awkwardness, and she could probably camouflage herself against a red wall wearing a green shirt. Also pear-figured, she has a ponch over her belly. Her flat, hickory-colored eyes hide behind a pair of glasses, which pinch a similarly hooked nose. She has her sister’s lips, but slimmer. Her tattooed eyebrows are thick and straight, and her lekku are marked with rows of tiny circles reminiscent of... well, octopus tentacles.

The Gray Jedi is a human woman in her 70s. She wears a robe over an otherwise provocative costume. Like an overused towel, she’s wrinkled and washed out. She moves with the arthritic rigidness of old age and is slightly hunched, but otherwise not in too bad a shape. The tops of her vulture-like hands are staunch highways of varicose veins. And her smirk is as easy as her scowl. She has an angular face with thin features, capable of many blunt and snide glares. Once a rich auburn, her hair is grayed, dry, and wrapped into a trio of buns, two on either side and one at the back. They’re secured by golden hair jewelry. A pair of modest glasses shields her brown eyes, narrowed into a grumpy sneer.

Inside the fourth cell is an undead human who died in her 50s. The priestess apparently insisted on a homely under-dress, appearing more like a fairytale mother than a burlesque performer. Something about her just screams “strong-willed foundation of the family.” Her movements are eye-catching, yet frail. The meticulously styled dead grass she considers hair probably smells like fake flowers, her face a piteous, guilt-reaping landscape of drooping crevices. The balls of her elbows and knees protrude from her withered, green-hued flesh, and yellowed claws jut from her hands. Tired embers drift inside her eye sockets with hurt worry, as if you’d just slapped her for giving you a teddy bear.

A human cyborg tries to subdue her quirky enthusiasm in the next cell. She is short and powerful - very short, at 4′8″, and curved in hilly rounds of muscle. Cybernetics glow from her left eye-socket, cheeks, biceps, and thighs. Soft with sharp edges, her face has a pointed nose and effervescent aquamarine eye, her lips small, pink, and round. It allows swift reversal between friendly and severe. Ruffled bangs jut over her indigo headband like leaves over pottery. The rest of her dark lilac hair falls to her chin and shoulders in wet, feathery disarray, jaggedly layered. It’s parted by broad ears which are hugged at the rims by thick metal hoops. This gives her a whimsical, damp quality, as if straight out of a crystal cave.

Even in such a seductive pose, the Ren’dorei mesmer has the breezy manner of a vacationer. Her ensemble is the most contemporary chic of the six. She has a warm, wizened charisma that she’s failing to completely stifle for the act. There’s also something skittish about her, despite her serenity. A leggy and sleek runner, her skin teeters on brown with a reddish-purple undertone, mottled thick with freckles. Coffee brown hair streaked in burgundy drapes either side of her thin face like a square curtain. Her nose is sloped, and her wide, pale lips coated in gloss. Smoky lavender makeup embellishes the cyan lights of her eyes. They’re cheerfully lean and upturned, further emphasizing her amity.

The melody grows louder.

On cue, Shiv’athren’s voice is bright, melodic, and girly. “Squaaawk,” she jeers.

Aquileen settles you with a deadpan stare. “Sanctuary,” she states, in a quiet monotone that’s shockingly masculine.

Rimona sneer-smirks, “Forever.” She sounds brash, down-to-earth, even plebeian.

Chavivah’s nasal quality gives an arresting, drawn-out sigh.

Penlink is plucky and high-pitched, but her voice is too soft-textured to be grating: “Sting.”

Colpeia shoots a cautious glance over her shoulder. She utters the last word with breathy coarseness, like warm sand: “Chase.”

The rhythm picks up.

Shiv’athren’s talons wind around the bars. She swings teasingly from one side to another, her imitation all the more avian: “Sqaaawrk!”

Aquileen inclines her head closer to the bars with a blunt frown. “Sanctuary.”

Rimona caustically props her forearm over the bar support and snarls, “Forever.”

Chavivah siiiiighs, still sitting in her cell holding a handkerchief.

Penlink leans in and enthusiastically makes a slicing gesture, “Sting!”

Colpeia slides her long leg against the cell bars, her patient eyes locking on you. “Chase.”

Seo-yun quickens the pace with a spicy melody.

“Squaaaaawrk!!”

“Sanctuary.”

“Forever.”

Siiiiigh--!

“Sting!”

“Chase.”

His boyish stare soaks in their scantily clad figures with near-cartoonish glee as he continues rocking a tango over the keys. The six women clamber over the bars. Some are sensual, others just aggressive.

“Sanctuary.” “Forever.” "Ahhh...!” “Sting!” “Chase--”

“RAAAAWRK!!” The harpy-esque imitation is startlingly accurate.

The ladies strike perfectly orchestrated poses. In unison they belt in song:

He had it coming! He had it coming!

Their choreography is simple but bold, even challenging.

He only had himself to blaaame! If you’d’ve been there If you’d have seen it! I betcha you would have done the same!

The barred doors swivel in on each other, allowing one of the prisoners to step through. “Rwrrrk!” “Sanctuary.” “Forever” "Ohh...!” “Sting!” “Chase.” “Aaawrk!” “Sanctuary.” “Forever” Siiigh-- “Sting!” “Chase.”

Shiv’athren lithely prances forward from the new cell gap. Despite her feminine, fae-like bearing, her wiseass glower is more appropriate for a tired-of-your-shit spinster with half a bottle of wine. The music slows into a narrative. A deep purple Twi’lek man appears and takes her in a loose waltz. She stares at his face with a slender, tattooed brow perked, then mirthlessly at you.

“I filed for divorce. It only took me four to five years,” the spitfire remarks ironically. She twirls away from him and crosses her arms. “He retaliated by spreading lies through the village. Playing off my reputation as a sassy shrew made it easy for him.”

Shiv’athren smirks with a wink. “Well. They’re not wrong. It took a whole year for them to learn that he was the abuser, not I. Ohhh,” she clucks her tongue through a cheeky grin, “He didn’t like that! Now they distrusted him. His life fell to pieces. Naturally, he blamed me.” Shiv’athren glides to him and, with acidic playfulness, boops his nose with her finger, “Because of course, right?” He jolts an accusatory finger at her through their stylized dance. Her laugh is both musical and bitter.

“So, what does he do? The vindictive coward breaks into my home in the middle of the night with a vibroknife.” Her head jerks sideways in fiery sarcasm, “Because, you know, that will make everything better.”

“And then--whoops! Ex-dearest startled my birds. Pippy squawked. Loudly.” He stabs something down. “Sataar risked her life defending me. He stabbed a SISTER of my FLOCK!!” she screeches. “He came right at me so I fired two warning shots with my blaster.”

PEWPEW. The music stops, and the assailant kneels. Shiv’athren reaches down to pinch a red ribbon from behind his neck, her frightening talons slowly drawing it out. She plucks each word with the searing taunt of a witch: “In...to. His. Head.” With a violent yank she tears the ribbon off of him and throws her head back into a high cackle, “AAAAHAHAHA!”

He had it coming! He had it coming!

Shiv’athren spins, the ribbon flapping in her wake until it she drags it teasingly along her curvy backside. As he rises, she feigns raking her talons at him in rhythmic sweeps.

He only had himself to blaaame

The extras step away. Shiv’athren opens her arms, a piercing fire in her eyes, as several vibrantly colored flutterplumes soar in and swoop around her in a flurry of tropical feathers. One by one, the other women point at you through the bars.

If you’d have been there If you’d have heard it! I betcha you would have done the same!

The birds follow as she leaves. After a few beats of rearranging, Aquileen ambles stiffly from the cell doors to center-stage. Two masked extras dressed as Revanites slink behind her. She resembles a blank-eyed kid filling someone in on drama. “Okay. So, our village was attacked by mind-controlling Revanites? So it was kind of a hot mess. I was assigned as an assistant medic to a makeshift sanctuary for the injured.”

The extras advance on the teenager. “I guess they thought an artifact was buried under it or something weird? Two of them managed to break in. Someone had to protect those patients, and the other doctors had lives on the line. So I’m like, don’t sweat it. I’ve got this hot potato. I stood at the door with my blaster rifle and didn’t sugar-coat it: This is a sanctuary for the wounded, I said. They’re our patients. Get out.”

The Revanites step over each other and aggressively leap at her with unseen weapons. BANG. Pewpewpew. Ssshing! It’s the noise of a blade that forces the music to pause.

Aquileen lowers clumsily to pull a red ribbon from the Revanite’s neck. As she stands back up, her glare is blunt enough to make a boulder seem soft. “You know, some guys just can’t hold their heads after having a--” her attempt to raise her soft, bland voice is almost comical-- “SURGICAL KNIFE CLEAVE THROUGH THEIR NECK.” She holds out the ribbon. It drifts to the ground like a mic drop. “Aquileen, out.”

They had it coming! They had it coming!

Aquileen and the two Revanites twine around each other in a combative hustle. She pushes them aside and they float offstage. With a diligent frown, Aquileen pulls out a scanning device and points it in a nondescript direction, its lights flashing against the stage’s gloom.

They tried to kill before her prime They threatened children

She flings flower petals over the ground in an arch, trying to be sexy and... well at least the vigor is there. The prisoners swerve and writhe inside their cells.

When they were bleeding! It was a murder, but not a crime!

Aquileen wanders off. Rimona is next to swagger angrily to the center. The grumpy crone crosses her arms, refusing to dance with the human man that appears. He reaches out-- THWAP. “HEY!” she snaps. “CUT IT OUT.”

The dancer flinches and stands off to the side, exchanging an appalled glance at Seo-yun. He just shrugs back at him.

“Ehhh, where was I? Gimme a minute a’right? I’m old... Oh, right. We were married for 3 decades. You know the story. ‘You’re mine. I’m yours.’” She levels you with a flat sneer and stretches out derisively, “’Forever.’ Sure, pal."

“Then bam - he lets slip about an affair. Wanna take a shot at how long? TEN KRIFFING YEARS!!” she snaps. A beautiful young woman prances onstage, spinning hotly into the other dancer. “Yeeeeaahhh,” she growls huskily at them, “forever all right. Go to Balmorra for a lesson in ‘empathy’ my old wrinkled ASS! He only wanted to get closer to his damned mistress!”

The man gradually steps backwards, fading into the darkness. “We divorced. Did I kill him? Nah. Trust me; I did something way better.” The woman begins dancing around Rimona. “Ran into this 30-something by chance after ditching my old life. I took her under my wing and we blew stuff up. We had a riot. Eventually she mentioned how much her husband Farien would disapprove. So apparently he kept us a secret from each other for a whole decade.”

The music pauses. She and the woman grin knowingly at each other. “He has no idea how much I’ve been influencing her. She considered me her new role model. So she just happened to keep running into me. She ran into me ten times a month! How’d ya like that ya old bastard?!” Rimona flings out a blue silken cloth from her wrist and breaks into a boisterous guffaw. It lands atop the flowers as the lights go red.

The women file out of their cells to join at her back in ordered chaos.

He only had himself to blaaame! Her trust was nurtured Then it was butchered!

Rimona and the young woman have arms wrapped around each other’s shoulders, still in hysterics. “HAHAHAHAHA!!”

I betcha you would have done the same!

BOOM! -- a fiery explosion. The smoke clears, and Rimona and the woman are gone. Through a soft blue spotlight, Chavivah hobbles forward with a distressed siiigh, looking between you and the others. The music softens for her to lament. Seo-yun assumes a tweaked melody, somewhat more reflective of her culture.

"Ooh, az grob schmuck! Er farkoyft meyn mentshn tsu der Kult fun di Damned! Mayn man, meyn tokhter, eyner fun meyn kinder, ale toyt!” she exclaims in a constant state of italics, wandering from person to person, her arms broad but somehow feeble. Several extras in peasant clothing far downstage shuffle despondently, then vanish.

Chavivah buries her lips into her handkerchief-clutched hand, shaking her head. “Ikh bin mazldik ikh nokh hobn meyn bubala Isaac. Dernokh,” she raises a claw with an aha-moment, “ven ikh iz geven sorting durkh a registri yorn tsurik, in di eybbish kultur prezerveyshan gezelshaft registri ikh gefunen a bisl nemen mstma zeyn. Afilu zeyn mstma ort. Es iz aoykh gring!”

Aquileen's forehead wrinkles, using the Force to translate Chavivah’s words. Her eyes widen, “...Whoa. That’s messed up. Did you do it though?”

Chavivah and the music both stop. She gawks at her. “...What are you, meshugah?! Do you have any idea what kind of gelt this man throws around? Feh! I should be so lucky to find a lawyer good enough to shine this schmuck’s shoes!” She lobs out a blue ribbon, using it to dab her eyeless sockets. “Ohhh,” she sighs out, “I don’t even know for sure if they’re all dead...!”

For a moment the stage goes nearly black, with a few silhouettes. Then it’s illuminated by only the innocent blue. Weeping into her new hanky, she magically fades into the shadows of the stage, disappearing.

He had it coming...

Their voices ring softly in the background with slow sympathy. Penlink shuffles up through deep cobalt hues. Chipper but not inappropriately so, she looks ready to barge-hobble through a wall until she stops center-stage.

“After the war on Rishi my unit was assigned to domestic altercations,” she explains, already gesturing animatedly. “Our objective was to locate a terrorist. I got separated but discovered our target - they were mid-confabulation about deploying a bomb underneath a residential sector within the hour.” She points up, “Lots of innocent folks. The lieutenant ordered me to pursue while he arranged for backup.”

A large man looms upon her. “Welp. My unit tracked me as I skidaddled after him. I cornered him with my weapon drawn,” Penlink imitates a blaster rifle. The suddenly fierce command in her voice is hair-raising: ‘I am a Sergeant of the Republic Army! Drop the device slowly where I can see it! NOW.’ He stared down at me and laughed.” She rolls her eyes and smirks. “Not a very smart cookie. What transpired next occurred in,” Penlink squints two fingers together, “fractions of a second.” The man spins into a black sheet, vanishing. “First, he cloaked. The butt of my rifle wouldn’t suffice his trajectory. The most lickety-split weapon would be the vibroknife I coat in insect venom. I conjectured his most likely route and executed,” she slashes with an invisible knife.

The music cuts with the sound of a blade-- Sshhhing! The stage goes nearly black again, with only Penlink in a weak spotlight. “Then the lights were cut and everything went black.”

Her glare hardens with the rigid intensity of a searing laser, red lights once again flooding the stage. She slowly draws out a scarlet cloth from between her cleavage and holds it in an unrelenting fist. Her voice booms with a terrifying metallic ring: “IT WASN’T UNTIL THEY CONFIRMED A PARALYZING VENOM IN HIS BLOODSTREAM THAT I KNEW MY TARGET WAS ELIMINATED.”

The robotic boom in her voice disappears as she sings out,

He had it coming! (He had it coming), the others accompany. He had it coming! (He had it coming!) He had it coming all alooong!

Mechanical locusts pour into the air from behind her, avoiding the others but swarming obediently around her.

Those lives, defended. If apprehended... Her arms open incredulously, How could you tell me that I was wrong?

Penlink marches back to join the uncombed line, and the locusts zip offstage. The lights abruptly turn blue and white. In two parts they split:

They had it coming! (They had it coming!) They had it coming! (They had it coming!) They had it coming all alooong! (If you’d have heard it!) Those lives, defended. (When they were bleeding!) If apprehended (Then it was butchered!), How could you tell us that we were wrong?

Colpeia takes long, slow steps forward. The others create a half-circle behind her. She’s soon loomed over by two large men dressed as Vrykul. The music curbs a final time, while she wanders across the stage with a serene smile. "Stormheim was beautiful. I was enjoying the scenery and the Vrykul found that offensive. Those were dueling grounds, they said to me. To walk them was to challenge them.”

“I assured the two I was but a simple traveler.” She winds between the two, tiptoeing the line between warm and flirtatious. They stand still, unmoved. “I invited them to share tea with me, to share their tales of battle-- no. They would not have it. If I would not fight them willingly, they would chase me, and force me to fight. It was a matter of honor.”

“Well now. That wasn’t very nice. Our ideas of honor were clearly different. But I’m not one to shirk such matters. They didn’t care how I fought, so long as I didn’t abandon the match.”

She dodges the two lumbering men as they careen and stumble over each other. “These men were stronger than me. They wanted to kill me. They were my predators. So I confused them. My illusions frustrated them. I was able to stuff sleeping powder into one of their faces. The second man found his battle partner and they searched for me...”

Colpeia spreads a Cheshire grin at you. “Except they didn’t. When I rid of his partner’s illusion, I advised him to choose tea next time. You could say we parted ways because my magics made us see things differently. He saw himself as a strong warrior.”

The music stops. Her cyan eyes beam with a sudden flash of cosmic horror. Deliberately, she draws out a red ribbon along her exposed leg from one of her stockings. “And I saw him as mad.”

In a flash of arcane Colpeia blinks instantly away to appear with the others, leaving briefly illuminated math equations behind.

They snap and step in rhythm, the lights shifting to blood red.

The dirty bum, bum, bum, bum, bum! The dirty bum, bum, bum, bum, bum!

They had it coming! (They had it coming!) They had it coming! (They had it coming!)

They stomp, fiercely, some posing with sensual heat and others with loud anger.

Seo-yun stares slack-jawed. It’s amazing he’s still playing.

They had it coming all alooong! 'Cause if they used us ('Cause if they used us) And they abused us (And they abused us)

How could you tell us that we were wrong?

He had it coming! (If you’d have heard it!) He had it coming! (When they were bleeding!) He only had himself to blaaame (Then it was butchered!)

“SCHMUCK!” Chavivah howls in the center as she’s engulfed in shadow tendrils.

If you'd have been there (Those lives, defended!) If you'd have seen it (She was their prey!) I betcha you would have done the same!

Red is instantly replaced by dim white. They speak over each other as the brazen music evaporates into how it started- slow.

“He stabbed a sister of my flock!!” “They’re our patients. Get out.” “‘Empathy’ my old wrinkled ass!” “Er farkoyft meyn mentshn tsu der Kult fun di Damned!” “Drop the device slowly where I can see it. NOW.” “Choose tea next time.”

Their backward steps carry them once again into their cells. Their voices become distant echoes.

“Squawk...” “Sanctuary...” “Forever...” Siiiigh... “Sting...” “Chase...”

The snapping percussion finally ends, and the bars of the cell doors slam down with a desolate clang.

Seo-yun glances around awkwardly. He peers over the hood of the piano and clears his throat. In his warm gruffness he finally speaks up for the first time, “You ladies doing anything after this?”

“Dibs on the Twi’lek!” Oshiban muffles from backstage. A blaster shot promptly answers him. “AHH! Sunwell! Geeze, I meant the older one.” Two more shots. “OWW!”

The six women stare blankly at each other. Chavivah coughs.

Hey, thanks for reading. xD If you made it this far here are some links to these nutjobs’ blogs. Colpeia Beamgully - Gazelle of the Desert (WoW - neutral) Chavivah Benesh - Momme (WoW - Horde/neutral) Park Seo-yun Whalecarver - The Northern Tide (WoW - Horde/neutral) Oshiban Il’vineen - The Spark Catcher (WoW - Horde/neutral) Master Qaradoc Taliesin - Augur of the Before (WoW - Alliance, blog WiP) Zja’heed - Child of the Screaming Sands (WoW - Alliance/neither, blog not up) Sergeant Penlink Sinowdyne - The Indigo Needle (SWTOR - Republic) Master Lady Rimona Snyder - Old Lady Dynamite (SWTOR - Republic) Shiv’athren - Thunderbird (SWTOR - Imperial) Apprentice Aquileen Thren - Oasis (SWTOR - Imperial)

#stories #non-canon #crossover #SWTOR #WoW #cell block tango

3 notes · View notes

tableandteaspoon · 5 years ago

Text

Monday Merriment

Infusing grandeur into otherwise drab days with five ideas for the week.

I. Confession: I’ve had a bit of an unruly sweet tooth as of late. I’m blaming it - like absolutely everything else right now - on the pandemic. Pre-house arrest, I’d successfully resisted all sweets and carbs (other than the occasional cocktail clearly) for three months. Truth be told, it wasn’t difficult. So to lapse swiftly back into the arms of my saccharine lover has been a bit alarming. Finding ice cream too heavy and candy too basic, I’ve found my sweet spot in sorbets. Growing tired of my go-to Talenti Roman Raspberry, I remembered a recipe I developed near the beginning of this blog circa 2010. Fresh mint, Gewurztraminer, and citrus combine to hit all the right notes, without overwhelming your palate. Give the Pink Mint Sorbet a try - I promise it’ll be the easiest thing you’ve concocted during COVID.

II. The very first thing I did once the shock of WFH for the foreseeable future wore off was order a pair of delicious house slippers. As a pre-pandemic stiletto aficionado, I figured my feet deserved a break while sheltering in place - but I couldn’t bear the thought of forgoing the feeling of sliding them into something luxurious in the meantime. While all of that sounds marginally dramatic, I can’t tell you how lovely it’s been to have the comforting new routine. Here are my favorites for both men and women in hi/lo price points. Male: hi and lo. Female: hi and lo.

III. As the days sluggishly inch by, it’s become abundantly clear that many will be forced to forgo their dream weddings in 2020. Sad though it may seem, there are a handful of benefits to the newly minted “Micro Weddings” that will replace the big blowouts the rest of the year. Beyond the obvious intimacy you’ll be able to share with your loved ones in a smaller setting, you’ll also be able to redirect budget and resources to offer a more unique feel to your special day. If you and your partner are foodies, think of how much more elaborate you can make your menu with fewer attendees. Is music more your vibe? It’ll be easier to get your favorite band or DJ locked down now that touring is effectively over. Or, if you’re like me, and delight in decor, the possibilities have multiplied exponentially. For example, renting 250 vintage chairs for your ceremony is both expensive and logistically complicated. But renting 10-50 is more than doable - and oh so striking for an outdoor ceremony. In Northern California, One True Love Vintage is my favorite. There are plenty of vintage vendors nationwide, so turn to trusty Google to learn more about availability in your area.

IV. My junior year in high school, I made the last-minute decision to try out for the spring musical. I was last to audition out of nearly a hundred wannabe actors, and to say that I was ill-prepared next to my seasoned theater-buff peers would be a gross understatement. We could only sing roughly sixty-seconds of a song, so I opted for “Let Me Entertain You” from the same musical I was trying out for, Gypsy. Shockingly, I won the major role of Dainty June, and spent the rest of the semester singing and dancing on stage with an oversized cow in ringlet curls and a gingham hoop skirt. In hindsight, the part I love about this story is that the song I chose foreshadowed my ultimate profession. Letting me entertain you (and helping others do the same) has become my life’s mission. Which is why I was delighted to learn that one of my hostessing idols, Stephanie Booth Shafran, just released her book on all things entertaining at home, You’re Invited: Classic Elegant Entertaining. Even better, my hero fashion house and master of all things stylish, Oscar de la Renta, designed the toile cover. I can’t imagine a chicer hostess gift for your ultimate host.

V. This is one of those rare occasions where I’ve truly saved the best for last. I remember meeting Maximilian Sinsteden like it was yesterday. My friend Melissa asked me to join her at Balboa Cafe so that she could introduce me to her childhood friend Jordan, but instead I spent the entire evening mesmerized by his effervescent and talented partner, Max. (For the romantics among you, see their wedding announcement/hopeful love story here in the New York Times). Since our meeting, I’ve followed Max on both his personal Instagram (along with the likes of Town & Country and Vogue’s legendary Lauren Santo Domingo) and his interior design firm Olasky & Sinsteden (@oandsltd). While I knew the second I met him that he was one of those people who effortlessly leaves everything he touches more beautiful, I’ve been utterly dumbfounded by his creations during COVID. I kid you not, every single meal he and Jordan have prepared since March has been served on a different, yet equally glamorous, tablescape. Max’s genius tablecloths range from clearance bin IKEA to the whimsical French curtain panel pictured here that he found while traveling in England. If you’re not yet sold, the food that the couple serves on said tablescapes should satiate you. This particular weekday meal was carbonara with piped pasta, leek salad with walnuts, Parmesan, and homemade vinaigrette, plus twenty layer Mille Crêpes cake inspired by New York’s Lady M for dessert. To be blunt, if you don’t follow Max immediately, I’ll forever regard you as a person without an ounce of good taste.

Have a wonderful week! xx tt

1 note · View note

after-avenging-hours · 8 years ago

Text

Heart Skip [2]: Steve x Reader

Heartbeat Soulmate AU

Part 1

Word Count: 2361

Warnings: None

Over the next few days, news of Captain America spreads like wildfire. And when word gets out that our shop had been the one he crashed into, the shop’s customer count nearly triples. Audrey appreciates the increase in sales, but you and the girls are working a lot of overtime hours.

As the weeks pass, things seem to settle into a more comfortable, if still hectic, routine. You’re at the shop early, as you’ve grown accustom to, getting to work almost immediately. Dorothy comes in next, but after hanging up her coat, she settles behind the cashier counter with a magazine.

“Girls! You’ll never guess what I’ve got!” Annette’s lyrical voice fills the shop upon her entrance, rivaling the bell over the door.

You glance up from your position. You’re kneeling down on the floor, working on the bottom hem of a wedding dress as it rests on a mannequin.

“I’m sure you’re about to tell us,” Dorothy responds, keeping her gaze locked on the magazine.

Annette bustles behind the counter, too. Shrugging out of her coat and hanging it up on the coat rack. “You’re supposed to guess!”

You release a gentle laugh, turning back to your stitching. “Just tell us, Annie.”

Annette riffles around in her purse for a moment before pulling out a few slips of paper. “Three Tickets to the Captain America Tour!”

“What?!” Dorothy shrieks, quickly snatching the tickets from her friend’s hands to verify their authenticity.

You look up once more, in surprise. “How on Earth did you get those? They sold out the first day!”

Annette grins proudly. “My brother, Willie, works for the theater. He managed to snag a few extra tickets!”

“Please tell me these are for us!” Dorothy begs, clutching the tickets to her chest. “Please, please, please!!!”

Annette laughs. “Of course! But it gets better!!” She turns back to her purse, riffling for a few more papers. “Willie got us the extra tickets for taking pictures with him after the show!”

Dorothy screams in excitement, snatching those tickets from Annette’s fingers, too.

You laugh lightly at your two absurd friends.

Annette allows Dorothy to fawn over the tickets for a few seconds before she snatches them back. “So it’s time to dust off our best dresses and get all dolled up. Maybe one of us will catch his eye!” she grins cheekily.

You shake your head before turning back to your work. “I don’t know, Annie… A man that represents hope, freedom and the American way? A guy like that is bound to have a soulmate.”

Annette frowns as she contemplates your words.

Dorothy shrugs a shoulder. “Not necessarily. Only the purest of hearts get a soulmate. And with a body like that… That man’s sure to have a little sin in him.” She’s smirking by the end of her words, bumping her hip against Annette’s as the two of them giggle.

Annette turns to put the tickets back in her purse, releasing a dreamy sigh. “But could you imagine being his soulmate? He’s such a dreamboat.”

“I’d kill to be that woman,” Dorothy responds, flipping the page of her magazine.

You frown, keeping your comments to yourself. You know she didn’t actually mean it, but that was the precise reason you never told them that you did have a soulmate. Humans were fickle creatures and often wanted things they couldn’t have, or grew jealous of the ones that did have them. It wasn’t uncommon for mated couples to be targets to hate crimes. You’re pulled from your dark thoughts when Dorothy speaks again.

“Y/N, you’re so lucky you were here when he came to the shop.”

Your lips twitch in amusement as you remain concentrated on your stitching. “He didn’t come to the shop, he crashed through the window. I didn’t even catch a glimpse of him before he was jumping over the glass and throwing an apology over his shoulder. Nearly scared Mr. and Mrs. Brandy half to death.”

“And then he saved that innocent little boy! He’s so heroic,” Annette sighs once more. She has stars in her eyes, and you can tell she’s already fallen in love with this man, even if she’s never even met him.

Normally you wouldn’t mind. That was just Annie’s personality. But for some reason, with her fawning all over the Captain… It just didn’t sit right with you. You tried to push those feelings to the back of your mind. It was just an innocent crush. Nearly every woman in America had one for him.

“Anyway… The show’s next Friday. Dorothy I know you’re bouncing to go, but Y/N, what about you?” Annette asks.

Another unexplainable feeling arises. The thought of going seems to make you a little nervous, anxious even. More so when you recall that you would be meeting him face to face after the show…

You know that they won’t take no for an answer, so you force a smile onto your lips and look up at the two of them. “I wouldn’t miss it.”

---

Next Friday comes faster than you would expect. You pull out one of your favorite dresses from the back of the closet. It was rare for you to dress up as much as you were for tonight. You didn’t go on many dates. It’s not that you’d never been asked, it’s just that you’d been hoping to spend those moments with your soulmate.

Your hair had been in curlers all day until you were ready to pin your curls in place for the night. Your make up is flawless, choosing to go with a dark red lipstick you normally left for special occasions. You meet Annette and Dorothy at the theater. It’s positively thriving with activity, making it difficult to find them.

Once you do, Annette hands you your ticket and the three of you bustle inside. Your seats are pretty far to the back, but you don’t mind. After all, the tickets had been free. The show is incredible. The three of you admire the dancers’ costumes and giggle over the Captain’s. When he speaks, his voice seems to lull you into a daze. You could listen to him talk for hours and it wouldn’t even matter to you what he says.

Looking around, you quickly realize you’re not the only one. Both Annette and Dorothy have whimsical looks on their faces, soft sighs leaving their lips on occasion. As do most of the women in the audience. There’s one sitting a few rows in front of you that you’re pretty sure almost fainted when the Captain picks up a motorcycle with three dancers on it and effortlessly holds them over his head during the final number.

He stands there, smiling charmingly as everyone sings and dances around him. Canons full of confetti go off, filling the air with colorful, glittering pieces of paper.

When the song ends, the crowd roars with applause, nearly everyone standing from their seats, some even standing on their seats. You laugh as Dorothy and Annette bounce and scream in a desperate attempt to gain the Captain’s attention before the stage goes dark.

When the main lights come back on, Annette quickly grabs you and Dorothy by the hand to drag you out into the theater lobby. “Come on, come on! It’s time to meet him!” she’s giddy with excitement. It’s difficult not to feel the contagiousness of it, but at the same time, you still feel a little nervous.

A line has already formed. The girls take this time to touch up their makeup and fluff their hair. You wring your purse with your hands, feeling more and more nervous the closer you get to the front of the line. “You alright, Y/N?” Dorothy asks after noticing how quiet you’ve become. Annette turns to you curiously as well.

“Hmm?” you mumble distractedly, before noticing their strange looks. You berate yourself and put a smile back on your face. “Oh, I think I’m just a little nervous about making a fool of myself. I’ve never met anyone famous before.”

The two of them giggle. “Oh, you’ll be fine. Just smile for the camera and try not to trip in your heels,” Annette tries to assure you.

Before you know it, you’re hearing a man call out “Next!” and you’re walking into the small room that’s been set up for the meet and greet. You look around briefly, noting the long red curtain draped as the backdrop, and there are all sorts of posters and propaganda prompting you to buy Defense Bonds. As soon as your gaze lands on the man standing in the center of the room, you realize you didn’t actually have to worry about tripping, because all of a sudden you can’t move at all.

His eyes are so blue. They’re bright and warm and they seem to pull you in the longer you spend gazing at them. His full lips curl up into a small smile. “Hi,” he greets you.

Your heart skips a beat, the deep tenor of his voice completely washing over you. “Hi,” your response is breathless and it makes your cheeks flush. You’re only able to break your gaze away when you feel your heart skip another beat, only this time, it’s not coming from you. You have to berate yourself again. You’re not supposed to be oogling handsome men when you have a soulmate.

“Ma’am, are you getting in the picture or not?” the camera man questions, giving you an annoyed look.

You look at him in confusion. “I’m sorry?”

“Y/N, come on!” you look toward the direction of Annette’s voice, to find her and Dorothy saddled on either side of the Captain. The two of them are looking at you expectantly.

Your cheeks flush even hotter. “Oh! Sorry,” you apologize, quickly shuffling next to her. You make sure to keep your gaze away from the man just on the other side of her shoulder as she wraps an arm around your waist.

You focus on the camera, putting another smile on your lips. The flash goes off and you don’t even have time to recover from the blinding light before you’re hearing the camera man shout another “Next!”

Annette grabs your hand to pull you out of the room, fearful that’s you’re going to embarrass her again. You try to resist the urge to look back at him, but ultimately end up failing. You catch his gaze once more, this time noticing the curiosity behind the sky blue of his irises. You only get a brief glance before you’re pulled around the corner and out of his sight.

The three of you move to another line where you have to give them your tickets so they know where to send the photos after they’ve been developed.

“What happened to you in there?” Dorothy asks, once you’ve placed yourselves in the line.

You swallow thickly, glancing down at your hands to avoid their gazes. “I don’t know. One look into his eyes and I froze… I told you I was going to make a fool of myself.”

“Sounds to me like love at first sight,” Annette jokes with a light laugh.

“Get in line,” Dorothy giggles.

You try to force out a laugh for their sakes, but deep down you can’t stop thinking about how strange that encounter was. And you especially couldn’t get the image of his piercing gaze out of your head.

---

As for Steve, he couldn’t get the image of your smile out of his. The way your painted lips stretched and your cheeks lifted. He’s seen a lot of pretty dames over the last few months, but there was something about you that stood out. Something that made you seem special.

He manages to get through a few more pictures before he can’t take it anymore. He has to see you again.

Before the camera man can scream his usual next, Steve cuts it. “I’m sorry. I’m going to need a minute.”

He darts out the exit before anyone can stop him. In the next room, he sees that there’s another set of lines formed with people signing out for their pictures. His eyes sweep over the crowd, trying to find you. He doesn’t get much time before someone notices his presence and the group starts to swarm.

Even though they’d all just seen him, they were all eager to get one more moment with him. He smiles politely, trying to make his way through the crowd, using his recently acquired height to his advantage. He frowns when your face isn’t one of the ones looking back at him.

He must have just missed you. He’s about to give up and head back to the meet and greet room, when a new thought strikes him. He’d heard your friend call out you name, so at least there was hope.

He navigates the crowd to get to the tables. “Excuse me, can I look at this?” he asks the person sitting behind the table. Without really waiting for permission, he flips the notebook around and quickly scans the names. Looking at the most recent entrees, none of them are you.

He takes a step to the side and moves onto the next notebook. Your name isn’t in that one, either.

It’s not until the third notebook that he finds you. Y/N L/N. Your address is handwritten in ink directly below it. Steve’s hear skips in his chest, burning the address into his memory. He glances across the table at the worker in charge of this notebook and thanks his lucky stars when he recognizes the man.

“Robbie, remember when I signed that poster for your boy and you said you owed me one?” Steve questions.

Robbie eyes him curiously. “Yeah…”

“You think you can get me a copy of photograph 280421?” Steve asks, glancing back down at the notebook, to make sure the number matches with the one that’s getting sent to you.

“Uh, sure thing, Cap.” The man agrees.

Steve grins down at him. “Thanks,” with a parting nod, he turns to face the crowd and makes his way back to the room.

---

Part 3

@firewolfkelly @juliagolia87 @spaceprincessofmanygalaxies @gillibean9 @dashingdetectivetimelady @full-of-sins-not-tragedies @mashroom-burrito @adarkcloud @potterheadsgleek @inbetweenavengers @dedicatedbff @casameanlock @misshyen @sergeantjamesbarnes107th @liaamari17 @readingtoescape @arie-tfw @marvelfanuniverse @fvckingavengers @themcuhasruinedme @always-an-evans-addict @persephone-is-here-omg @thefandomplace @littlehotmess26 @northscorpio @willowtighe @calicat79 @bethabear12 @kaitlynthehuman @hellomissmabel @jennareedus @callingmrsbarnes @vashanatasha @thorodinsvn @siren-kitten-his @sergeant-angel @alphadareme @reniescarlet @feelmyroarrrr @kenobi-and-barnes @mysterylullaby @badassbaker @topthis808 @tardis-is-mine @4theluvofall

#steve x reader #steve soulmate au #heartbeat soulmate au #heartskip #steve rogers x reader #sam writes

1K notes · View notes