#theatrical flyer

[muramatsu-takehiko]

劇団東演『どん底』チラシ A4

劇団東演『どん底』のチラシ、ポスターをデザインしました。 この戯曲のざわめき、東演（ベリャコーヴィッチと）の『どん底』が持つソリッドな印象、新劇の歴史、ソビエト的な造形などを盛り込みながらデザインしています。 『どん底』、ひいては新劇を若者に届けたいという個人的な思いもありました。特にタイトルのレタリングにあたってはトレンドも意識しています。

再演のため過去の映像を見ながら、また、映画なども含めた他の『どん底』も見ながら、本作の特徴を捉え制作を進めました。 生々しい言葉や身体と、抽象的、幾何学的な表現とのぶつかり合いをかたちにしたいと試行錯誤しています。

タイトルも極端な平体にして、「底」を感じさせるような重心の低い画面にしています。

タイトルにロシア語を入れるかは悩ましいところでした（入れたのは、劇団の指示ではなく私の判断）。『どん底』にはさまざまなバリエーションが存在するので、邦題だけでは“和製”『どん底』に見えかねないと思い、キリル文字も加えています。

[lord-squiggletits]

Reread/skimmed my oldest Pharma apologism posts (mainly the ones about Pharma not being a functionist) and it just occurred to me that possibly another reason the fandom saddled Pharma with the "functionist bigot" label is because his introduction by First Aid says that everyone hates Decepticons, but Pharma really really hates Decepticons. Mix that with the portion of the fanbase that lionizes and whitewashes the Decepticons, and I can easily see it entering common fanon that "Pharma hates Decepticons -> the Decepticons are freedom fighters wrongly maligned by the Autobots/the franchise -> Pharma must be a bigoted functionist since he hates Decepticons who represent freedom."

The simpler explanation is just that Pharma is an antagonist and therefore gets the "everything about him must be evil and wrong" black-and-white analysis so common in fandoms in general, but given some of the bizarre Decepticon takes I've seen I can also easily see Pharma's Decepticon hatred being taken as a sign of him being bigoted and evil.

Though AGAIN in this case it would still be singling Pharma out as a bigot for crimes/flaws that multiple other Autobots are guilty of like.

Oh, Pharma hates Decepticons? Well a lot of other Autobots hate Decepticons too, First Aid's narration about Pharma even says "we all hate Decepticons"; for that matter, there are a lot of Decepticons who hate Autobots. It's a massive civil war that's lasted for a lifetime causing two groups of people to be stuck in a near-permanent blood feud, you can't assume that every Autobot who hates Decepticons (and vice versa) hates them because they're a bigot. Maybe there's been a war where both sides have been building an ever-increasing mountain of reasons to hate each other, so hating the opposite faction is a social problem caused by war and politics rather than a sign of individual moral failing.

Pharma worked at the New Institute so that means he must be evil/bigoted? Chromedome and Brainstorm also worked at the New Institute, but there's no widespread fandom shunning of them or headcanoning them as bigots.

Hell, even the very premise of assuming Pharma is a functionist bigot for hating Decepticons is ignoring the very premise of Pharma's motives, which are, uh... being blackmailed by the leader of the Decepticon Justice Division, who represents the ultimate form of Decepticon ideals to the point of literally wearing their symbol as his mask? So how were we jumping straight to "oh Pharma hates Decepticons bc he's a posh bigoted functionist" when there was a far more immediate interpretation/headcanon of "Pharma hates Decepticons because he's being tortured and blackmailed by one."

That's not to say that Pharma couldn't have hated Decepticons before Delphi, and I think you could make interesting headcanons/extrapolations based on either idea. But still. It kinda feels like people saw Pharma and just wanted to make him the Token Evil Autobot who's the opposite of our Good Heroic Autobots regardless of whether evidence from canon supported it or not.

Good riddance to bigoted functionist Pharma fanon, I'm so glad that the majority of Pharma fanon these days actually gives him a chance and puts him on equal footing as other Autobots.

[sideysvault]

˖⁺‧₊The 5 times Deadpool calls you ‘babygirl’₊‧⁺˖

Pairing: Wade Wilson x fem!reader

wc 0.8k

Tags: Minors dni. Foul language, canon typical violence, smut, established relationship.

────────

1. The apartment was dimly lit. It was a chilly September afternoon. Both of you were parading around, frantically looking for all the flyers and menus that local restaurants have left at your door and car ever since you moved into the neighborhood. You had been arguing about what to order for dinner for approximately forever. And you guys were starving.

“Thai.” 

“Not so quickly, hot stuff. We had that shit last week. Mexican.”

“We have Mexican food all the time. I love it but enough is enough”.

The man let out a theatrical gasp and exclaimed “Enough Mexican food? What’s next?” Taking a deep breath, he began making a poor imitation of your high-pitched voice “Enough of you! Enough of us!

You held in an amused giggle. He had the ability to make mundane endeavors quite entertaining.

“Ugh, fine. I’ll be an awesome boyfriend and cook for you tonight. Sounds good, babygirl?”

You couldn’t help but chuckle at the sound of that word.

“What did you just call me?”

Wade got up from his seat and started to make his way into the kitchen. Just as he is walking behind you, he smacks your ass while giving your temple a soft kiss.

“Stop being difficult”

By the time he arrived at the kitchen counter, you had him trapped with a hug from behind. Leaving soft, sloppy kisses all over his back, neck and shoulders. You really loved it when he cooked.

2. Wade had no plans of introducing his partner to what he considered nothing more than losers in spandex. But now that he was presented with the opportunity, he was quite pleased with himself. A sense of pride filled his chest with a feather-like sensation. He still wasn’t sure of how a woman like you could even date him, but he was glad you did.

“Baby, this is the Russian tin man and his teenage sidekick, Guys, this is my beautiful sexy babygirl”

You immediately feel your face heating up with embarrassment. Luckily, the duo seems to be very accustomed to your boyfriend's antics. They quickly laughed it off with a roll in their eyes.

At the end of the day, he may be the biggest asshole in the world, but they are happy to see Wade in a good, normal relationship. Or at least, as normal as you could get with him.

3. He could feel you wince in pain with every step he took. Your nails were digging into his skin with such force that Wade was pretty sure it was making him bleed. But as long as he got you to the hidden safety offered by the forest near the road, nothing mattered. He tried to put you down as gently as he could. No matter his efforts, as soon as he laid you on the humid duff, you let out something stuck between a gasp and a scream. And as soon as Wade heard it, he felt his heart stop.

It was your very first time getting shot. And it has been his fault.

“It’s okay baby girl, I got you. Just look at me, okay?”

“I know it hurts, baby. We’ll fix it. Brand new. I promise.”

He did not soften the hand which he used to apply pressure on your wound. And he did not let his protective hug soften either.

4. The bedsheets felt humid. You assumed it came from the salty sweat on your body. The woman had been awoken by a nightmare for the third time this week. You panicked for a second, feeling the warm sensation of breath behind your neck. But you soon realized that it was Wade. He had his arms around your waist, and you could hear a light snort coming out of the man. You let out a breath you did not know you were holding.

You two were together, at home. Turning around to face him and hide your face in the crook of his neck, pulling yourself as physically close to your boyfriend as you could. He woke up with a groan. Wade kissed your forehead and sloppily rearranged the messy hair out of your face. You could hear him mumbling sweet nothing as he tightens his grip on you and softly tracing invisible lines on your back.

“Go back to sleep, baby girl. You are safe”.

 5 -The cold sensation of the wall against your nipples was completely intoxicating.

Your head felt dizzy because of the constant stimulation. You were pretty sure you were about to pass out. But Wade’s hand kept your head in place, while he left a thrilling trail of kisses all over your neck and back.

The woman lets out a whine almost every time she feels the thrusts. Her pussy was filled with the overwhelming tingles of a denied orgasm.

“You can do it, babygirl, you are so fucking tight. Keep it up, honey”.

Your hand reached for the back of his head, pulling his head closer as he pounded into you with more strength than before.

His hand covered your mouth as he mumbled into your ear “Bite it. We are not over yet”.

────────

Notes: Hi pretty! Thank you so much for your follow and your requests! I hope to write them all soon. In the meantime, I hope you enjoy reading this one. Take care! -Sidey xxo

Based on this request.

[raz-writes-the-thing]

A Rather Short and Sharp Descent (Beetlejuice One-Shot)

Betelgeuse x AFAB!GN!Reader 18+ ONLY / requests are open

Summary: When you'd struck a deal with the demonic ghost, you'd not expected to fall for him. Perhaps less so, you hadn't expected to be tumbling quite down this path...

Fic Type: Smut (dumbification, daddy kink, slight degradation tw)

Everything Tag List: @winchxters  @calliopesdiary

Betelgeuse Tag List: (send an ask to be added to a tag list!)

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Had it been two hours or three? More? You can't remember- you can't even remember what time of the day it is. You can remember the magically altered sets of fingers and tongues that have thoroughly fucked you from the inside out, though.

It's not like he'd let you forget that, anyway.

“Aww, lookit that, dollface. Nothin’ in there, huh? Good. That’s the way ol’ Beej likes it. Doin’ a good job, babe.”

You tried to respond, but it just came out as a garbled moan.

"Yeah, that's it. Just a little fuckinnn mess for me, aintcha?"

Your brows pinched, mouth dropping open as his fingers felt like they pulsed inside you. They probably did, knowing him. Beej laughed above you, eyes glinting with sadistic pleasure. Oh, he was going to make you work for it.

"B-Beej," you drooled, and he pouted at you mockingly in response.

"Look atcha, tryin' to make sentences and everything. It'd be cute if it weren't so pathetic, huh?" Another second and his free hand swatted at your ass, the sting biting- not that you didn't love the pain. "Beej, Beej, Beej, huh? Yeah, you fuckin' love me an' my thick fuckin' cock, babe."

And you did. You couldn't wait for him to fuck you with it. That ache begging for him inside you was starting to make you antsy. Sure you had his physically altered fingers buried inside you, but it wasn’t the same. God, it would never be the same as having him leer over you, cock twitching from the inside. 

Truth be told, you weren’t even sure how you’d managed to get yourself into this situation in the first place. You’d found a flyer that had quite literally blown into your face on the street one day and said the name three times with such disbelief that you had all but died of a heart attack when the being belonging to said name appeared so suddenly and with a ridiculous amount of theatrics.

Then it was on to the business of making deals, of course. Betelgeuse had let you know in his round-a-bout way that he’d noticed you had a pesky little problem that needed fixing and he was more than happy to do the job. There was, of course, just the matter of payment, though. Sure, he could scare the absolute fuck out of your roommate until they fucked off into the sunset but not without payment. Nothing much, not your soul or anything. No, what Betelgeuse wanted from you was, of all things… a kiss. 

Naturally, you’d been suspicious that planting one (with tongue, as he had insisted) onto a demonic ghost with a penchant for absolute chaos wouldn’t come with any other side effects, such as selling your soul over or something. But a kiss? Just one kiss? Surely that wouldn’t be too bad. 

As it turns out, it didn’t have any side effects that you were expecting. Instead, it led you down a path with a rather short and sharp descent into the circles of Hell. Sin, specifically. Either way, it was a short path with many tongues, fingers and cocks to ease your way down. 

You didn’t even realise how fast you fell for him. Nor he for you, most likely. But soon enough he was around often enough that you couldn’t call it a fling any more. This was something different. You’d caught him sizing your ring finger the other night, actually. Eyeballing it, mostly, but you could tell what that eye meant. 

“‘Ey, babe- you in there? Or are y’too fucked dumb to respond anymore, huh?” 

You groaned, thoughts hazing in and out a little, though they were brought sharply into focus as he withdrew his fingers and stuck his rather long tongue out to lick them clean.

Seeing your hungry gaze, he offered them to you next—an offering you took up without an ounce of hesitation. Fuck, you tasted good. 

Those very same fingers slid from your mouth and down around your throat, brushing against the thrum of your pulse beneath your soft, thin skin. It would take almost nothing for him to kill you. But he wouldn’t. He was too fond of you- his favourite Flesh Bag as he called you. 

His eyes glinted above you, drinking in the sight of your spit-slick lips, red and swollen. Your throat pressed against his fingers, warmer than you’d expect for a dead man. Slowly, softly, he pushed you down onto your back, legs bent and spread wide for him to slot his hips between. 

Finally, finally, you were going to get what you needed. 

“Uh-uh, my precious little dummy, not yet. You think you deserve this cock? D’you really? Think hard on it now, hard as I know that is for your empty little brain.” 

“Y-yes,” you replied almost instantly, trying to roll your hips against him- trying to goad him into fucking you dumb just the way you like. Well. Dumber. 

“‘Y-yes’ what, babe?” 

Risking a glance at his expression, your mouth practically watered at the carnal look there. Dark, hungry. He wanted this just as much as you did. Needed it, even, perhaps. 

“Yes, daddy.” 

“That’s it. That’s fuckin’ it, babe. Fuckin daddy-o, that’s me.” 

You rolled your eyes, starting to come out of the haze a little now despite the slap of his cock against your clit. He was doing it to tease you, the fucker. 

“Beej, if you don’t hurry up and fuck me, I might go genuinely insane.” 

“Ladies and gents,” Betelgeuse snorted, talking to an invisible audience. “Can’t keep ‘em off me, eh? Desperate little thing. Cute though.” 

But despite the pleasure he usually got from torturing you from hours on end (you think as if he hadn’t just spent the last two to three hours fingerfucking you to oblivion), he gave in, softly rolling his hips against you- sinking inside so slowly you almost felt like yelling at him to just hurry up. 

“Ohh, fuck me,” you moaned, head dropping back against the pillows as he finally sunk completely inside you. The thing about Beej was that he was always able to alter any of his shapes to be exactly what you needed when you needed it. And today, he knew you wanted someone on the larger side. Not that you wouldn’t be happy with average, either, but sometimes there was just a need for something a little more specific. Beej knew that, too. 

“Alright, alright,” he huffed amusedly, punctuating the sentence with one of his very unique laughs. “Shut up for me a sec, babe,” he said, placing a hand over your mouth as he pulled back and slammed back against you. “Yeah, that’s it.” 

He set a punishing pace, eyes rolling quite literally into the back of his head with pleasure. While the object of torture had been you over the last few hours, there was some element of torture for him, too, not being able to sink balls deep into your tight little cunt and fuck you until he was sated. But not anymore. 

Slowly as he fucked you, his hand slipped from your mouth, allowing your pretty moans to escape into the heated air. Betelgeuse moaned, running his hand down your throat and down your side to grip at your hip. His fingers squeezed harshly into the soft muscle there, and you tilted your hips as best as you could to rock back against him. 

“Fuck, you’re tight,” Betelgeuse groaned, leaning down to shower sharp bites down your neck and shoulders. He always had been a biter. There was something about the contrast of the blood coming to the surface under the skin, the way those indents slowly softened into pretty bruises spreading across your skin like a grim meadow that drove him insane. “Not gonna last long, babe.” 

That was okay with you, you weren’t going to last long either. You hadn’t realised how fast you were approaching your orgasm- and the deadline skyrocketed closer as his hand disappeared between your legs where you were most sensitive. 

“God, fuck, Beej- I, fuck, like that, please,” you cried out, reaching out to encircle your arms around his shoulders. You pulled him down and over you. From an outside perspective, you were absolutely sure that he would look like a violent predator about to rip apart his prey. 

His hips fucked into you without mercy, fingers rubbing against your most sensitive area. Your mouth was open in a practically permanent ‘o’- something that Betelgeuse took full advantage of as his lips landed on yours. His tongue flicked at your lower lip and it was that in conjunction with the savage thrust of his hips and non-stop-just-right fingers that catapulted you right over that edge. 

With a cry you weren’t sure actually made any sound or not, you felt your pleasure bubble over like a boiling pot on a stove, spilling over the edges and roiling up your spine. You could feel your orgasm all the way in your toes and even in your scalp, you realised distantly. 

Oh, wait, no, that was Betelgeuse’s fingers knotted in your hair, pulling as he chased his own orgasm now, hips choppy yet brutal. Every thrust forced your orgasm out longer, tingles of pleasure shooting through your nerves even as you started to come down from it. 

“Oh, oh, yeah, that’s it, babe. Fuckin little toy for daddy, aintcha- yeah,” he rambled with pleasure, eyes screwed tight as he finally, finally came- 

You sagged into the bed as he slowly stopped thrusting, cock still inside you. With a grunt, he laid down on top of you, forcing a grunt out of you as he did so. Your hand raised lazily to rub at his back. 

“Fuck, Beej,” you panted, eyes drifting closed as the glow started to overtake you. “You’re going to ruin me.” 

Betelgeuse snorted playfully, already starting to recover. He had a freaky ability to be able to go, and go, and go- and then barely need rest afterwards. Perks of being dead, you supposed. 

“What, like I ain’t already?” 

Well, you couldn’t argue with that. 

[blackenedsnow]

Can you do a one shot of Art The Clown x actress reader?! Like when he sees her he gets all excited like with santa but he doesn't want to hurt her but she's still like 😨😨😨😨😨

silent curtain call

WARNING: None

PAIRING: Art the Clown x Actress! Reader

NOTE: Hi anon! I absolutely loved this idea—it’s so fun. I hope you enjoy and sending all the best vibes your way!

SUMMARY: A late-night encounter at a nearly empty movie set leaves you face-to-face with the infamous Miles County Clown.

The set was dead quiet.

The crew had packed up hours ago, leaving only you and a handful of stragglers tying up loose ends. The horror flick you were starring in had been plagued with delays, and now you were running overtime under dim work lights, trying to wrap the final scene.

As you made your way back to your trailer, exhaustion draped over you like a heavy cloak. The parking lot was nearly deserted, lit by a handful of flickering streetlights. You sighed, unlocking your door and dropping your bag inside when a sound made you pause.

A faint crack.

You froze. It was soft, but it carried through the air, cutting through the silence like a knife.

“Probably some intern messing around,” you muttered under your breath. Still, your heart started to pound.

Turning, you scanned the lot and caught a glimpse of something—or someone—standing just beyond the reach of the nearest streetlight. A figure, tall and unmistakable in black-and-white stripes, tilted its head at you.

The Miles County Clown.

Your stomach dropped, and a shaky laugh escaped your lips.

“Okay, very funny. You almost got me,” you called out, though your voice wavered. “Who put you up to this? Alan? Because I swear—”

The figure stepped forward, revealing more of himself under the dim light. The clown’s pale, corpse-like face and blackened eyes met yours, and he grinned, his sharpened teeth glinting in the light.

This wasn’t a costume.

Your blood turned to ice as the realization slammed into you like a freight train.

That wasn’t someone dressed as Art the Clown.

That was Art the Clown.

Your knees locked, your breath caught in your throat. You’d read the stories, seen the reports. You knew what this thing did to people, and the fact that he was standing there, grinning at you like you were the funniest joke he’d ever heard, made you want to scream.

Art didn’t move for a moment. He just stared, his head bobbing slightly from side to side as if deciding what to do with you. Then, to your horror, he raised a hand and waved.

Like you were old friends.

You forced yourself to take a step back, your heart hammering against your ribs.

“H-hello,” you stammered, your voice barely above a whisper. “I-I don’t want any trouble, okay?”

Art’s grin widened, and he pulled out his tiny black hat, placing it on his head with exaggerated flair. Then he gave you an overdramatic bow, one hand sweeping out to the side like he was performing on stage.

You didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

“Look,” you said, your voice trembling, “I don’t know what you’re doing here, but I’m not—I’m not gonna bother you, okay? Just… just leave me alone.”

Art straightened up and clapped his hands silently, his shoulders shaking with laughter you couldn’t hear. Then he pointed at you, then at himself, and made a heart shape with his hands.

Oh, God. He wasn’t leaving.

He took a step closer, and you instinctively backed up until your back hit the door of your trailer. Your mind raced, desperately trying to remember everything you’d read about him.

He loved theatrics.

He didn’t speak.

He enjoyed playing with his victims before…

You swallowed hard, your chest tightening.

But… he wasn’t attacking you.

Not yet, at least.

Art’s expression suddenly brightened, like he’d just remembered something. Reaching into his bag, he rummaged around for a moment before pulling out a crumpled flyer—your movie poster. He held it up triumphantly, pointing at your face on the poster and then at you, nodding excitedly.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” you muttered under your breath. He recognized you.

He tapped the poster again, then gave you a thumbs-up, his grin widening to impossibly creepy proportions. He was… a fan?

The absurdity of the situation almost made you laugh, but fear kept you frozen.

“Uh, thanks,” you managed to croak. “That’s… nice of you.”

Art clapped his hands again, silently applauding. Then, without warning, he pointed at your ankle, mimed tripping, and fell flat on his back with an exaggerated thud, his legs kicking in the air.

You blinked. He was… reenacting one of your scenes.

It was so surreal, so bizarre, that for a moment, your fear gave way to utter confusion. “What… what are you doing?”

Art sprang back up like a jack-in-the-box and gave you a smug little shrug, as if to say, What can I say? I’m hilarious.

Despite every instinct screaming at you to run, you found yourself rooted in place, too terrified to move but too intrigued to look away. Art was watching you closely now, his head tilted, his expression almost… expectant.

“Uh, great performance,” you said weakly, hoping to appease him. “Really… uh… really nailed it.”

His grin stretched even wider, and he mimed taking a bow again.

Then he reached into his bag.

You tensed, your breath catching as you braced yourself for whatever horrifying weapon he was about to pull out. But instead, he produced a handful of fake flowers, the kind that squirted water, and held them out to you.

You stared at them, then at him. Your hands shook as you slowly took the flowers, half expecting them to explode or spray acid or something equally horrific. But they didn’t.

“…Thanks?” you said hesitantly.

Art gave you a cheerful nod, then pointed at the poster again, tapping your face and giving you another thumbs-up.

It hit you then—he wasn’t here to hurt you. Not tonight, anyway. He was excited to see you, like a fan meeting their favorite celebrity.

That realization didn’t make him any less terrifying, but it gave you a tiny sliver of hope. Maybe, just maybe, if you kept playing along, you could get out of this alive.

“Well, it’s been… uh, great meeting you,” you said cautiously, clutching the fake flowers like a lifeline. “But I should probably… you know, get going.”

Art’s grin faltered slightly, and he tilted his head, looking almost disappointed.

“Um… maybe I’ll see you around?” you added quickly, your stomach twisting as the words left your mouth.

He brightened at that, nodding enthusiastically. Then, with one final bow, he turned and skipped off into the darkness, his bag swinging at his side.

You didn’t move until you were sure he was gone. Then you bolted into your trailer, locking the door and sinking to the floor with the flowers still clutched in your hands.

Your heart pounded in your chest as you tried to process what had just happened.

You’d just met the Miles County Clown.

And somehow, you were still alive.

[rooksamoris]

💞 — 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐁𝐔𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐔𝐍𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒.

💞 — in which you try to unionize the mostro lounge, but the boss, azul, just happens to be your boyfriend.

💞 — azul ashengrotto x reader

💞 — warnings: just a little suggestive, not explicit.

💞 — 1.6k words.

“No, you guys—we need to fight for our rights. By any means necessary,” 

Jade and Floyd looked at you in amusement and annoyance, respectively. You could not be seriously trying to unionize the Mostro Lounge. Azul was probably the most pro-capitalist/anti-union guy on campus. He had justified roping you, his beloved, into working overtime with the excuse of “it's for the profit motive, sweetheart” and yet you still stupidly thought you could manage to unionize his establishment? It was cute.

The more sneaky of the twins laughed, politely hiding his grin behind his immaculately gloved hand, “And you plan to do this how?” he asked.

A blush of embarrassment trailed up your neck and to your ears. You had very little experience with grassroots organizing—which meant you were drawing a blank, “Uhm—I don’t know. We… uh… we should make demands and find a cool name for our union,”

“Unions schmunions—let's just not come to work,” whined Floyd.

You shook your head, “We need a union before we try going on strike… uhm, how about ‘Night Raven Labor Organization’? It rhymes and would look good on a flyer,” you suggested, placing your fist in your palm. You were embarrassingly desperate at this point. Your boyfriend was constantly tricking you into working sickeningly long hours for him, claiming it was fine since you guys were dating and he helped you pass alchemy—but still.

Jade was entertained, so he indulged in your theatrics, “Oh, that sounds wonderful. Do not worry yourself over the flyers, I… I will handle that,” he said, purposefully pausing just to watch the suspicion creep into your mind.

Before you could reject him, Floyd stood and lazily draped his arms over your shoulders, “You know, you’re gonna break Azul’s heart, being against him like this,” he said, a sudden toothy grin coming over his features at the thought of what chaos could come from your silly plan, “Standing against your ‘sweet Zuzu’ for the working class,” 

You frowned at him, “We–well, something needs to be done, even if it means his feelings are mildly hurt.”

The plan was in motion. You had already gone ahead and spoken with the other employees at the lounge, and while most were apprehensive—fear of Azul was pretty common—some still believed that you could convince your boyfriend to be kinder to his workers. Jade had told you he made flyers, and you were heading over to the lounge to go check them out, and then meet up with the others for the meeting. 

But the moment you walked in, Floyd shoved you towards the office with a giddy grin, “Shrimpy’s in trouble…” he whispered.

You stiffened, “Huh? What do you mean? Floyd—”

“Azul wants to talk to you,” he told you, knocking on the office door before scurrying off, leaving you to gulp and adjust your necktie.

Azul opened the door with a suave grin, gently wrapping his arm around you, his hand lingering at the small of your back, “Ah, sweetheart,” he said, affectionately kissing your temple. He pulled you inside, shutting the door with his foot before guiding you towards one of the sofas in his office, “You’re looking as gorgeous as ever,” he added, pouring you a glass of fruit cordial before taking his seat across from you, his hands folded on his cane and his legs crossed.

You always hated how smooth he was, “Ahaha…” he laughed awkwardly, “Uhm… you wanted to talk?”

One of his brows raised, “Do I need an excuse to see my beloved?”

“O–Oh, no, of course not—I just mean—”

His laugh cut you off. Sevens, how you loved that laugh, “You’re so nervous…” he trailed off, his bluish-purple eyes tracing over the ceiling before making their way towards your eyes, a single brow raised.

You were nervous. Hell, this was the most bizarre experience ever. You were unionizing your boyfriend’s establishment—you spent the night in his dorm room, just for you to wake up the next day and have secret meetings with his employees. You were ashamed, but not enough to quit the union. Azul had been abusing his power for too long now. Your lips had parted to speak, but you were cut off when he slammed two papers on the coffee table.

One was a flyer with a pig-like depiction of the bourgeoisie, dressed in a fancy suit and surrounded by money, and the second was the union demands which you were supposed to go over with the other employees today.

“Azul—I… I can explain—”

“How cute.” Azul gently tapped his foot as he watched your face fill with horror at being caught too early, “For a union organizer, you’re pretty disorganized. You trusted Jade with the flyers? The fact that you trusted Jade with anything is just hilarious,��� he said, letting his cane lean against the sofa. He uncrossed his legs and leaned forward.

“Listen, Azul…” you started, before he cut you off, with a mere raise of the hand. That bastard Jade—

He cleared his throat before picking up the page of demands, “‘We members of the Night Raven Labor Organization…’ did you come up with the name, love? It’s nice. It rhymes, seems you do pay attention to my marketing rambles. Anyways, ‘We members of the Night Raven Labor Organization are proposing a chance of bargaining before any attempts of protest or striking,’ ooh, look at you, threatening me. How adorable,” he said, grinning at your embarrassed face. 

You hid your face behind your hands, groaning softly as your face started to feel extremely hot. You peeked at your boyfriend through your fingers, seeing that smug smile on his face, “Azul… this was a last resort,” you tried to explain, but he only set the page down and stood up again.

It was not like you did anything wrong. He was overworking his employees—he’s lucky you did not go Karl Marx on the guy and encourage the workers to arm themselves against him. When you met his eyes again, he was standing in front of you, gazing down at your seated form with a neutral expression. 

He was thinking of how to proceed. On one hand, you were the love of his life, and on the other hand, you were working against him. When he first heard of it, he was hurt, but after some reflection, he knew he could make you give up on this.

With a gloved hand, Azul traced over your face, enjoying the way you looked when you sat in front of him, gazing up as he stood. His hand cupped your jaw, thumb lazily tracing over your bottom lip. His pale skin was covered with a little blush over how your breath hitched, “You wouldn’t want to hurt me, would you?” he asked, leaning closer.

You shook your head as much as you could while in his grasp, “No, Azul… it's just—well, uhm, you know,” he stammered.

He played up a soft frown on his lips, and he felt your eyes trail to the beauty mark beneath his lip, “But, angel… when I saw that you were unionizing behind my back,” he paused, and sighed, brows furrowing slightly. He played you like a fiddle, “I was just so hurt,” he confessed. In reality, Azul did not care enough to be brokenhearted over your union attempts.

“I’m sorry, Azul,” you told him, and you were about to protest again, but he shook his head.

“If you had concerns, you could have just told me,” You bit your tongue, despite how you wanted to tell him that you had tried to complain to him and he put the profit motive above everything else. Instead, you just pouted and nodded to his words. You couldn’t help it. All you wanted to do now was kiss him since he got so close.

Azul’s hand remained on your face as he glanced back at the flyer, “And a fat rich man, angel? Really?”

“I didn’t make the flyers,” you blurted.

His gaze softened. He had you right where he wanted you, nodding to your words to make you relax before he leaned down and kissed your head. And then he bent down a bit to meet your lips, kissing you like you wanted. Azul’s hand slipped from your jaw to your shoulder, while his other hand rested at the backrest of the sofa so that he could lean down. 

Your hands immediately darted to grab him closer, tugging on his uniform blazer as your lips parted for breath, “Azul….”

He was blushing too, lips parted as he panted to catch his breath, “I thought I was an evil capitalist—what happened to your union?” he asked, teasing you.

Your brows furrowed softly and just pulled him in again, capturing his lips once again and groaning against his lips as you took the chance to take control, pulling him down on the sofa with you.

Azul’s eyes widened in surprise, his hat slipping off and his glasses nearly joining if he hadn’t held them up in time.

You showed up to the union meeting late, with your clothes all disheveled and your hair a mess.

“My, my,” chuckled Jade, as he took in your appearance with his piercing eyes. He knew that this would all end up like this, with you being too quick to bend to the will of his boss, and his boss being manipulative enough to get you to forget about your ambitious goals.

Floyd frowned, “Does this mean we’re not getting guns to threaten the capitalist class??”

Sevens, what a major fail.

©rooksamoris 2024. do not steal or translate my work!

[shslbunnylover]

★★★𝙋𝙚𝙧𝙛𝙚𝙘𝙩 𝙨𝙝𝙤𝙩 (12 𝙙𝙖𝙮𝙨 𝙤𝙛 𝙁𝙡𝙪𝙛𝙛𝙢𝙖𝙨 𝘿𝙖𝙮 1: 𝙃𝙤𝙘𝙠𝙚𝙮 𝙜𝙖𝙢𝙚)★★★

Character: Melissa Schemmenti

Taglist: @inlovewithgreta (Message me to be a part of the taglist until I get a page set up!!)

Trigger warnings (DL, DI): N/a

Genre: Fluff

A/n: Welcome to the first day of Fluffmas! We're starting off strong with the lovely Melissa Schemmenti and a hockey game prompt!

Word count: 2.4k

...

...

A shot of cold air hit your face, sending your already reddened nose and cheeks into a state of more frigidity. You shivered slightly, your eyes narrowing to avoid the snowflakes falling into them, leaving the snow to cluster up on your soft eyelashes.

"Thanks for coming Hon, I know hockey isn't really your thing," Melissa spoke up, looking over at you and a slight smile pulling at her lips at the sight of you all bundled up in her coat and scarf.

You open your eyes slightly to see your girlfriend more, matching her smile as a slight warmth finally comes to your cheeks in stark contrast to the icy air around the two of you.

"My love, you know I'd always come to support your family. After all, it's not every day that one of your girlfriend's friend plays for the flyers!" You chuckled, pulling up the zipper on your (Melissa's) coat despite it already being zipped up all the way.

"I guess that's true," The woman next to you chuckled, tilting her head to look up at the sky that had been covered in a sea of white. "But he's technically just one of my guys,"

You roll your eyes,

"Are you sure we couldn't have parked any closer?" You groan with a slight smirk, leaning forward in a dramatic manner as you felt your feet beginning to cramp up from how long you had been walking. "You get us free flyers tickets, but can't park closer than 30 yards?"

"Do you not see all these fucking cars?" Melissa asked, pointing over at the hundreds of cars filling the parking spaces up one by one with a raise eyebrow.

"Yes Mel, I see them," You roll your eyes in a joking manner, throwing your head back for the theatrical effect as you stood up straight once again. "But tell me this isn't a long walk,"

The redhead nods with a laugh,

"But look, we're here," She chuckled, gesturing to the building in front of you before opening the door for the two of you.

"Thanks baby," You spoke before placing a kiss on her cold lips, watching them curling up into a big goofy smile before walking into the not much hotter building, looking at the closed off hockey arena.

"Of course sweetheart," Melissa smirked, grabbing you by your waist as she led you to your seats that she had gotten with the rest of her family.

"Hey!! There's our favorite couple!" Leo smiled, kissing you on each cheek before doing the same to your girlfriend.

"Miss Teresa," You nodded at your future mother-in-law with a smile, blushing softly and retreating into your coat a bit as she rolled her eyes with a groan.

"Hon, I told youse to call me Teresa, no need for formalities," She chuckled, gesturing for you and Melissa to sit down next to her.

The older woman wrapped her arm around you, placing a kiss on your cheek as her cold red hair tickled your cheeks.

"You excited to see him play?" Melissa asked, pressing her nose against your temple before backing away to look you in the eyes.

You nod with a bright smile.

"I am, I do wish it was warmer though!" You giggled, pressing your mittens up against your cheeks for a sense of warmth. "But then again the ice would probably melt,"

The green-eyed woman simply chuckled, bringing you closer to her before leaning her head on your shoulder.

"Y'know Schemmenti, you're all sappy with me outside of school, but you haven't even told Barb about us," You teased her,

"You know I'm just waiting for the right time, plus, I don't need Janine fussin' about it. I also don't need Jacob and her knowin' my business," Melissa rolled her eyes in response.

You sighed with a slight giggle, understanding of your redhead's hesitation.

"So when does it start?" You asked, looking down at the ice rink that was currently being polished by the giant Zamboni.

"A couple minutes, Vinny told me they'll be starting in about 10, say...where is he?"

Teresa simply shrugged her shoulders, allowing for you to cock your eyebrow at her sudden lack for tightness when it came to being on time.

Melissa seemed to share your confusion but brushed it off as she continued to wrap her arm around you. You sighed in content, looking at the giant illuminated clock in the arena as you internally counted down the minutes to when the game would begin.

After about 15 minutes had passed, the two teams began to enter the rink, positioning themselves to their starting lineup. You still didn't know where Vinny was, and at this point you kind of didn't care and mainly planned on paying attention to the game.

You covered your ears at the sound of the whistle blowing, looking over at Melissa and smiling at how cute she looked focusing on the game.

Your lovesick thoughts were interrupted by a sudden vibration on your thigh and the now turned-on screen of your phone showing a text message from Janine.

"Janine?" You muttered to yourself, your voice not loud enough to draw Melissa's attention to it.

Janine: Hey Y/N! I'm watching the game with the Abbott crew! Hoping to see you and Melissa on TV!

You chuckled, typing out a funny reply about how you had accidentally gotten a seat next to Melissa before shutting off your phone, watching the screen go black before turning your eyes to the players fighting over the puck with their sticks.

Melissa had announced she was going to the flyers game, not mentioning you also coming with her as her girlfriend, so you also told your work friends that you were going as well just in case any of them spotted you on TV. At this point, the whole string of lies was working.

"Oh come on!" The 2nd grade teacher exclaimed in frustration along with the rest of the people around you as one of the players for the flyers screwed up a very easy shot.

You giggled slightly, noticing how Melissa's anger softened at your endearing nature.

"Think I could play better than some of them?" Melissa asked you, licking her lips to rehydrate them from the cold.

"You could definitely beat one of them, you're good, but not as good as you are at baseball," You replied, bending over the arm rest of the seat to press your lips against her hair.

"That's true," She smirked.

You looked off to your right, still trying to figure out where Vinny was, but not letting it overwhelm your thoughts.

'That idiot is late again, I can't wait to see Melissa bust his ass...hopefully with words...I can't watch him get another bloody nose from her,' You thought, shuffling your body to stand up right, looking at the arena once more.

You looked at the at the giant cube of screens in the middle of the celling, your eyes glossing over each of the screens before turning to look back at the players.

"Oh my god you idiota!" You heard Teresa exclaim, making you chuckle, leaning forward as you heard the woman curse the young men on the ice out in Italian.

"Your mother may be better at insulting hockey players than you however," You giggled, placing your hand on Melissa's thigh as you continued to laugh before regaining your composure.

"Oh now that is definitely true, I've been hearing it since I came out the womb," Melissa replied, looking at her mom. "Right Ma?"

"It wasn't my fault those dumb eagles decided to give up a touchdown!" The older woman retorted.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever Ma," Your girlfriend rolled her eyes, resting her head on her hand as she shook it in fake exasperation.

The minutes passed, and you were sure your hearing almost passed as well from the angry yelling from the two women next to you, but you didn't mind. Once the sound around you had gone from yelling to cheering, you glanced up at the collection of screens to see the score, and your eyes could only widen when you saw your face with Melissa's on the kiss cam.

"Um...Mel..." You muttered, tapping her shoulder before pointing at the giant screen, the two of you listening as the cheers of people watching all around the stadium filling your ears whilst you blushed furiously.

"What the hell?!" The redheaded woman exclaimed as she looked at you, confused as there usually weren't kiss cams at the games she went to. "Sorry Hon, I ain't doing this, you know the rest of Abbott is watching," She looked at the camera with an angry glare.

You immediately nodded.

"Yeah, don't worry, I don't wanna tell anyone without you being 100% ready," You said with an understanding nod, your face reddening as you heard the boos of people as the kiss cam returned to the close-up cameras.

"Oh fuck off would youse?!" Melissa exclaimed, making you only more embarrassed.

"Mel, they're just being cupid for a day, let 'em," Teresa chuckled, looking at your girlfriend with a smirk that felt almost mischevious.

"Uh uh- No way, I am not revealin' my relationship to the world on one of these fuckin' things," The green-eyed woman replied with a glare sent towards her mother that made you laugh into your coat. "And besides Ma! You don't like these things either!"

Her mother simply hummed in reply, taking a sip of her hot chocolate (Prosecco).

Melissa nor you were sure exactly what was going on as the kiss cam was on you two for a second time, but you both knew that the redhead was about to take a hockey stick to the person controlling it from how mad (Flustered) she was.

"What the fuck is going on? I- Ma!" Your girlfriend shouted with reddened cheeks at the sight of her mother bending over dying of laughter.

"Teresa!!" You squeaked. "This isn't funny!"

"Just kiss you two! You're dating for ravioli's sake!" She cackled.

"I already told you I'm not letting the people at Abbott see me kiss her till I want them to!"

"And that'll be after Christ's second coming Melissa, just kiss the poor girl! She's blushing like a maniac over there!" Tereasa continued to laugh as she pointed at you.

You simply breathed a sigh of relief as you noticed the screen had changed a couple of seconds ago, ignoring the dying out boos from the crowd.

"Teresa, she'll kiss me in front of people eventually, she loves me," You managed to stutter out,

"Exactly," Melissa mumbled, pressing her lips to your hair as there was no more camera pointed at you two.

As the game got more intense, you on-looked your girlfriend continuing to analyze each of the players movements, occasionally looking up at the screens to get a closer view of each and every shot and pass made. You felt like a magnet drawn to her, but in your head, you wouldn't have it any other way.

"What's that look for Hon?" She asked you, catching on to your lingering stares at her focused eyes and furrowed brows.

"Nothing, I just really, really love you," You smiled, not meaning anything behind it other than pure adoration for her, which she picked up as she always did.

"What do ya want?" Melissa teased, her expression turning more into loving expression as she watched you giggle.

That was her favorite sound after all, your laugh. She'd do anything to hear it.

"Hey lovebirds!" You heard the voice of your mother-in-law exclaim, drawing your vision to the kiss camera once more.

"Oh my god," You chuckled, rolling your eyes once again, looking at Melissa with a smile. "It just won't leave us alone will it?"

The redhead simply remained silent, looking at the camera before looking at you with a soft smile. She leaned forward, caressing you hand as she wrapped her other around your neck. You could feel her the warmth radiating off her cheeks from your bodies inching closer towards each other.

"I think it's telling me to stop being a coward and start loving you out loud like my girl deserves," She whispered before moving the hand that was holding yours to your chin and pulling your lips together.

You felt your eyes flutter shut, your brain going a million miles an hour, to say you were shocked was an understatement. But for a moment, your brain told itself to shut up and just love the woman back.

Pulling your lips away from each other once the crowd had quieted down it's cheering, you looked at Melissa with a loving gaze.

"Melissa," You smiled, your eyes looking at her as if the redhead touching you wasn't real, but just a figment of your imagination too good to be true.

"Y/n, I love you," The older woman pressed her lips against your forehead, leaving a warm feeling in your body before she pulled away slightly. "I'm sorry I never showed it,"

Your smile quickly turned sympathetic the moment you saw an uncharacteristic guilt wash over her facial features.

"You're okay, after all, I wouldn't want to be bothered about my relationship by everyone I knew because of some sudden PDA and all that," You reassured her, tucking a red curl behind her ear.

Melissa simply chuckled, the guilt falling from her face as she laughed.

"But yeah, you do know we're gonna be interrogated by Janine and literally everyone else at Abbott tomorrow, right?" You smirked, pulling up your phone to show all of the messages clouding your lock screen.

"Yeah, yeah, I know," The redhead sighed, pulling you closer to her by wrapping her arm around your shoulder.

You simply leaned into her embrace, looking up at her with eyes of adoration.

"I wonder why it kept picking on us," You pondered, your thoughts returning to the hockey game in front of you.

"Yeah, I wonder," Teresa muttered under her breath with a knowing smirk, looking up at the press box before giving a slight nod.

"Thanks Ted," Vinny smirked back at his aunt as he handed the camera man a stack of cash.

...

If you enjoyed reading this, don't forget to like, reblog and comment! Thank you and you are loved <3

-Akira

[freakymcnastys]

hihihi!! idk if you’re taking request but i LOVED ur 10 things i hate abt you one shot!! i would love to see a part 2 💝💝💝

“are you bored yet?” - katsuki bakugou x fem!reader

━━ . ˚₊ ꒱ "will you tell the truth so I don’t have to lie?"

NOTE: there will be 2 more parts after this! (sorry it’s so long 💔💔)

content: 10tihay au, quirkless au, american au, regular bakugou stuff, PART 2 WHOOP WHOOP! (part 1 here )

"WAIT WHATS THAT?" Iida asked Kirishima who held a yellow stack of flyers. "My revenge.." He said with a smile before throwing the papers down the staircase of the school watching as the students grabbed them. "Mineta's having a party?" Iida questioned, confused. "No but now he is!" He responded with a wink before walking off.

While walking out of school, Iida noticed Ochaco walking by herself. "Hey Ochaco!" He quipped, sliding next to the burnette. She quickly greeted him with a smile. The pair walked off together ultimately deciding to have Ochaco show Iida around while talking about the plan with her sister and Katsuki. "Are you going to the party" Iida asked. "Yeah of course I really really wanna go but I can't unless my sister does.." Ochaco sighed hopping off a statue the two were climbing. "Um I'm working on that but your sister is not going for the guy." He explained before a question popped into his head.

"So are you sure that your sister isn't a-"

"K.D. Lang fan? Nope." Ochaco shrugged. "Found a picture of Fatgum in her drawer once." She continued. "Oh so she's into guys like that? Like pretty guys?" He questioned, looking down at her. "I guess. I mean you can't expect me to dissect the inner workings of her twisted mind!" She ranted, not forgetting the theatrics while she spoke.

Kirishima's bike compared to the rest of the bikers made Iida sink into himself as he walked into the bar, looking for Bakugou. Once they spotted him they went to him. "Should you be drinking that if your don't have a liver?" The red head asked, stupidly, earning a smack from Iida. "So we got somethings that might help you win over y/n."

Katsuki just raised him brow, taking another sip from his beer. "Uh first off y/n hates smokers..so uh--" Iida then processed to take the cigarette from Bakugou hand and put it out on the floor as Kirishima nodded along. "So yer telling me that I'm a non-smoker?" The blonde let out slowly. "Well just for now! and well here's another problem.." Iida led on. "Ochaco says y/n likes pretty guys.." He finished as the two friends looked to each other then at Katsuki.

"Are you telling me I'm not a pretty guy?" He asked almost offended, getting up from his spot that was leaning on the pool table. This causes the two teens to scramble to defend themselves and to compliment Bakugou. "This is a very pretty guy! This is a gorgeous guy!" Kirishima retorted as Iida quickly agreed with him as Bakugou went back down to listen to the rest of what they needed to tell him. Katsuki knew he was a pretty guy but he loved to mess with this guys..

As Momo and Ochaco tried to quickly sneak past her dad to leave for the party, he just called out to them. "Should've tried the window!"

"Now where are you two going?" He interrogated them as Momo just looked at her friend with a nervous smile. "Well if you must know we are going to a..study group!" The youngest daughter lied, terribly. "Other wise known as an orgy?" He raised an eyebrow from behind his newspaper.

"Oh come on daddy it's just a party!" the burnette attempted to use her charm on her dad but he still didn't seem to budge. "You know you can't go if your sister doesn't." As if on que you came down the stairs, on your way to the kitchen.

"Come on y/n! Can't you be normal for once and go to Minetas party!" Ochaco huffed, practically begging you. Although you REALLY didn't want to go, you really did feel a pang of guilt after seeing how much your sister wanted to go to this stupid party. Fuck it.

“Fine I’ll make an appearance.” You shrug before heading back upstairs to fix your hair and grab a leather jacket. As you were on your way to your room you hear the door close and your dad say to himself, “what just happened…?” in disbelief. Which made you laugh a bit.

The party was booming once you got there. Of course now looking around the atmosphere you feel regret creep up on you as you soon bump into Monoma.

“Woah hey there kitty cat!” He spoke with his usual self righteous tone which caused you to scoff. “Whatever just stay away from my sister.” You warn the blonde. Before walking away he says this. “Can’t promise she’ll stay away from me!” Suddenly this party started to suck even more than before.

And just as you thought things couldn’t get worse the guy who seemed to be harassing you showed up once again. “Dear god, what do you want..” You let out a sigh. “What not enjoying the party?” The blonde scoffed. This guy is now starting to seriously piss you off.

Just as Katsuki was gonna say something back, Monoma and Ochaco walked past the two with his arm around the girl and saying something along the lines of, “guess who found me!”. This seemed to set something off in you as Katsuki watched you throw back two shots of whatever was on the table. “Woah slow down..” The boy said, rather uncharacteristically, concerned.

“Come man I’m enjoying the party!”

[creepyclothdoll]

Turkey Day

I didn’t scream when Deb brought out the platter. The dish was large, white, and decorated with little porcelain angels– the ‘good china’ for special occasions. I had thought there was something grotesque about those little porcelain angels before Deb set her masterpiece upon it. 

It was the conflict-avoidance in me that stopped the scream. But it didn’t stop my jaw from dropping. 

“Mom, you said you weren’t going to do this this time,” Derrick said through his hands. 

“Well, no, I told you on the phone, we had a surprise visitor yesterday,” said Deb.

“Bet you never saw a thanksgiving turkey like that in Minneapolis,” Trent grunted at me, before smugly, theatrically stabbing into a roast arm with his fork. He seemed pleased that I didn’t have a response. My mouth just wouldn’t form words. I couldn’t move, or speak. 

“I didn’t–” Derrick finally took his fingers off of his nose. “You said, last month, that you were going to do a turkey this year.”

Trent stuffed an enormous forkful of stringy grey meat into his mouth and chewed, staring at me all the while without blinking.

“No, sweetie, you’re remembering wrong,” Deb, who would not look at me at all, argued in her gentle sing-song voice. She was short and thin with a fading blonde bob and grey roots. She wore a beige sweater over a beige dress. “I said your dad wasn’t up for it, with his hip, and with my sciatica and your brothers gone, I just didn’t think we could manage it this year. But then yesterday, around four, just about when I was unwrapping the frozen turkey, the doorbell rang! Trent, please.” Deb slapped Trent’s hand as it reached for another big forkful of meat. “Wait till I carve some for everyone first, for Christ’s sake. Poor Lexi is sitting there thinking ‘oh, these redneck McCabes, bunch of barbarians raised in a barn.’”

“It’s fine,” I said automatically. This was the first movement of my muscles since Deb brought out the platter. “I don’t think that.” 

“You don’t have to be so nice,” Deb replied. “I can take it.”

Derrick was staring at me now, too. His hand passed under the table to squeeze mine.

“Why couldn’t you just carve it in the kitchen?” Trent huffed.

“That’s not how Thanksgiving dinner works, dear,” Deb replied. Her thin fingers worked to saw thinner slices of cooked flesh off of the bones. The meat seemed to be somewhat tough, because she was going very slow at it. “Anyway, I ask this fellow where he was coming from, and he said Rindley. Lexi, that’s a whole county over. He’s a door-to-door JW, I forgot to say. He’s got this stack of flyers, you should see them, they’re funny. Anyway. I say, ‘don’t you JW’s always travel in pairs?’ and he says, ‘no m’a’am, that’s not a requirement, that’s only for safety.’ And I say, ‘well aren’t you worried about crazy hicks out here in the boonies taking shots at you?’ And he says, ‘I never had a problem out here before.’ And I say–”

“Godammit Deb!” Trent blurted. He let out a long, excruciated grunt as he stood up laboriously, taking great care to make sure we all knew how much it hurt him. He pushed his walker around the table and grabbed the carving knife from his wife. “I’ll show you how to carve a roast. Christ almighty, I swear to god.” He sawed the meat with violent speed, splashing grease on his old navy checkered flannel. 

“And I say–”

“Mom, maybe save it for another time?” Derrick said. He made a big show of secretly nodding towards me so his mother knew why. 

“It’s a funny story,” Deb frowned

“I want to hear it,” I said. Deb only sighed and sucked her teeth. Then she sat down.

“Well, it’s not that funny. It’s dumb, actually.”

“I still want to hear it,” I said. My phone buzzed in my dress pocket, and I pulled it out instinctively. 

I’m so sorry this is awful, the message read. It was from Derrick. He squeezed my hand again. I took mine away. 

“She’s calling the cops,” Trent said. “Told ya.”

“I’m not,” I said. “I just got a text.”

“Surprised you can get texts out here,” Deb said. “Most people can’t. Too far out in the sticks.”

“I can get them through wifi,” I said. I’d gotten the password off of their fridge when I arrived. It was under a magnet that said Never Mess With A PISCES WOMAN Who Was BORN IN MARCH And Is Allergic to STUPIDITY, They’ll Never Find Your Body! “I also think I still have bars, though, too.” 

I was getting sick of Deb acting like this suburban mcmansion was so far from civilization it might as well be the middle of Alaska. We were thirty-five minutes from Grand Rapids, tops. 

“Gals try to call the cops sometimes,” Trent continued, breathing heavy now as he struggled with the roast. He wasn’t doing much better than his wife at it. Sweat dripped from his wispy brown crew cut into his piggy eyes, but he refused to slow or stop. “They don’t last very long. By the time the cops get to our door, we’ve already got a whole new Thanksgiving meal to serve up to them.”

“Okay,” I said. He raised his eyebrows, as if to accentuate that there was an implication there that I should pick up on.

“Dad.” Derrick said. “She’s not calling the cops.”

The thing I didn’t like about Derrick’s dad most was the way he said everything like he’d rehearsed it in his head a lot beforehand. Sometimes, Derrick could sound just like that. He’d say something and raise his eyebrows with a smile like he was expecting a big reaction. He wouldn’t move past it until I gave some acknowledgment that yes, I did “get” the implication. I never realized how much that annoyed me until now. What do you want, a round of applause?

“God dammit!” Trent threw down the knife. “God damn roast is tough, Deb. What about ‘low and slow’ don’t you understand?”

“Well, there was a lot of meat, dear. If you just fixed the grill this summer–”

“Oh, don’t go bringing that up.”

“Men.” Deb tutted. “Nothing is ever their fault. You know what I’m talking about, Lexi. Us women take the blame for all their stupid mistakes. But that’s life. Cleaning up our men’s messes without complaint.” Deb smiled conspiratorily at me, and I smiled back, even though I didn’t relate to or agree with the sentiment. The front door was just down the hall behind Deb, just a few square meters of grey carpet and beige walls smattered with tacky and vaguely threatening Hobby Lobby signage (Grandma’s Shit List: Don’t Say Shit, Don’t Do Shit, Don’t Expect Shit! and House Rules: ACT RIGHT or get a trip to the woodshed!).  I kept glancing at it, measuring the distance in my mind, wondering if I could run fast enough to get to my car before one of Derrick’s parents caught up to me. Or drew a weapon. 

Another buzz in my pocket.

I love you, Derrick had texted me. I could see him out the corner of my eye trying to make eye contact with me and shoot me his own conspiratorial smile, but I did not look at him. Trent slapped a pile of rubbery grey meat on a plate and passed it to me. 

“Breast or thigh?” He joked without smiling. I took the plate. The meat was wet, as if it had been boiled, and the thin ring of white fat and skin around the edge jiggled as it separated from the muscle. I thought I could still see blonde arm hair on the skin. 

Derrick took his plate of grey meat from his dad. As Deb took hers, Derrick leaned over to me and whispered in my ear,

“Don’t forget to say thank you.”

“Thanks, Deb,” I said. 

“And my dad?”

Deb passed a basket of white grocery store rolls around. There was a low white ramekin of canned cranberry sauce on the table, and a big blue bowl of salad with russian dressing. There was an extremely mushy and condensed soup-forward green bean casserole. In an effort to make a good impression, I had brought candied sweet potatoes. 

I took a generous helping of the salad, which was somehow also very wet. The russian dressing water from the lettuce pooled with the unthinkable and loathsome juices of the grey flesh at the bottom of the plate. I also took a generous helping of the sweet potatoes. No one else did, though. 

“Let’s wait until we say grace,” Deb said through her smiling teeth, watching me take a deep swig of my wine. “Thirsty, aren’t we?” She chirped. She poured me some more wine, filling it almost to the brim this time. I think she meant this as an insult, but I was going to do that myself anyway, so the joke was on her. “Would you like to lead the prayer, Lexi?”

“Uh… I don’t really know what to say,” I said. 

“Just say what’s in your heart.”

“Um.” I cleared my throat. I looked to Derrick. He nodded encouragingly at me, a sign he wasn’t going to step in and rescue me. “Thank you, God, for bringing us all together, here.” Deb and Trent both bowed their heads and touched their palms. Derrick followed suit. “I’m so glad I got to meet Derrick’s lovely parents. Thank you for this amazing… meal.” I felt the wine come back up into my mouth a little bit and had to gag it back down. “We’re all grateful to be here, rather than anywhere else. Uh. Amen.”

Derrick wasn’t religious, as far as I knew. But he gave a reverent nod before he opened his eyes and picked up his knife and fork. 

“That was a beautiful prayer,” Deb said. She sniffled. “You picked a good one, sweetie. Don’t let her go.”

“No thank-you for carving your dinner. I see how it is,” Trent mumbled. 

I watched Derrick take a small mouthful of meat. It was sinewy, and had come from the hand. He chewed and chewed. I’d never been less attracted to him. 

My family ate Thanksgiving dinner in the early afternoon. Sometimes my grandparents were there, sometimes my dad’s brother and his kids, sometimes family friends would come. My candied sweet potatoes always killed. Not a spoonful left by the end. But the thing was that we all liked each other. My mom would get a little tipsy and tell crazy college party stories, my dad would burn the pecan pie and laugh so hard he cried, and then we’d laugh so hard we cried, and then we’d watch movies and laugh some more. 

“So, what is it you do for a living?” Deb asked, chewing on her roast. Her teeth scraped the fork as she pulled it off.

“I’m a personal assistant at a pet magazine.”

“Oh, that’s adorable,” Deb laughed. I smiled a little bit. 

“It’s harder than it sounds. You know The Devil Wears Prada?” I asked.

“...No,” Deb said.

“You like Prada?” Trent asked through an open mouth of food.

“No, but, basically, I do what Anne Hathaway does, except for with dog clothes. But if you haven’t seen it, nevermind.”

“We don’t like the Devil in this house,” Trent said.

“It’s not a literal Devil. It’s Meryl streep–”

“Let’s not keep talking about this. It’s Thanksgiving,” Deb snapped.

Buzz.

My mom loves you, you’re doing great.

“You know,” I said, swallowing a bite of sweet potatoes, which I made very sure hadn’t touched the grey meat or any of its accumulated juices, “these candied sweet potatoes are made with real maple syrup and brown butter. I toasted the pecans myself and sugared them with homemade maple caramel.”

After a long silence, Trent wiped his mouth and replied,

“I don’t like real maple.”

“It’s too strong,” Derrick agreed.

“We already have a dessert,” Deb said.

“Regular mashed potatoes are better.” Trent said. “And they’re traditional.”

“To each their own,” I said politely. I poured myself another glass of wine. Honestly, I hoped they did kill me. Anything to end this dinner sooner. 

There was a loud, faraway noise from below us. A pounding, a rattling, and then a long, low wail. Derrick put his head back in his hands.

“Mom.”

“That’ll be our JW.”

“He’s alive.”

“You know how hard it is to break down a whole carcass, son?” Trent spat. “Nobody’s got the time for that. Not when you find out you gotta make a thanksgiving dinner for two extra people last-minute the day before. Now get your elbows off the damn table.” Then, in a moment of brilliance, he added, “Only one set of elbows on this table tonight, and they’re well-done.” He grinned and looked at me for a reaction again. “What, you got nothing to say?” 

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

“Say what’s on your mind,” Trent responded.

“Okay. Well… candied sweet potatoes aren’t a dessert,” I said. “They’re a side. But I don’t want to start an argument.”

“You’ve wanted to start an argument since you got here,” Trent said. “Don’t think we can’t see you think you’re better than us. College-educated girl, women’s studies, you probably got all kinds of opinions.”

“I think you want to start an argument,” I said. 

Derrick groaned beside me. 

“See? Knew you think you’re smart.”

The man in the basement let out another agonized wail. 

“It was journalism, not women’s studies,” I said. 

“Like it matters. This day and age, you tell me what the difference is. It’s all women’s studies, gender studies these days.” Trent huffed. He chewed as he talked, and I could hear the fat squeak between his teeth as the prisoner downstairs built up the energy for another scream. 

“When I was a girl, I took a women’s studies course in college,” Deb piped up, attempting to smooth down the hostile tone of the conversation by pretending she couldn’t sense it. “Back then, there were still ladies who would go out and burn their bras in a big fire. I understood feminism when it was about equal rights, but I look around today and– well, hasn’t it gotten out of hand? You know how it is, Lexi– you’re a pretty girl, you don’t shave your head or pierce your eyebrows or anything like that. Do you?”

The Jehovah’s Witness wailed in the basement and rattled his chains. 

“Would you shut him up?” Trent snapped at Derrick. 

“Me?!” Derrick said. “Dad.” He gestured at me. Like that would sway anyone here. Trent’s big lumpy face was stony as a gargoyle’s as he gestured at his walker. He wouldn’t be able to go down stairs with his bad hip.

“I’ll do it,” Deb said. “It’s my mess, I’ll clean it up.” She stood up and pushed in her squeaky beige chair.

“No, mom,” Derrick said. “I’ll do it.” He looked at me, then looked away quickly, towards the grey carpet. “I’ll, uh–” Derrick grabbed the carving knife from the roast and wiped it on his napkin. Then he headed towards the pantry door.

“That’s my boy,” Trent shouted, without any real pride. “Sure hope you’re loyal to him, Lexi,” Trent said to me once he was arguably out of earshot. “Most women these days–”

“I’ll go with him,” I said as I stood, almost knocking a fork off the table. I hurried after my boyfriend through the dingey, grey-tiled kitchen (past a hanging wood sign which read In This House We Believe: No Cryin’, No Whinin’, No Back-Talkin’!) and catching him before the secret door behind the rack of very expired dry goods swung shut. 

“Lexi–” Derrick said, four steps down the creaky wooden staircase. The man’s screams were louder and more frantic now. “I’m so sorry about all this.”

“Is this normal for your family?” 

“No– I mean, the ritual cannibalism is just a Thanksgiving thing, I promise. And my mom said she wasn’t going to do it this year. I thought it would be fine.” Derrick smiled wanly. I didn’t like the way that smile looked on his face. Honestly, I didn’t like his face very much anymore. I could see his dad’s meaty forehead and his mom’s thin nose. I could see Deb’s wide cheekbones and Trent’s lipless mouth. 

“You don’t have to do what they say,” I said.

“It’s– not that big of a deal,” Derrick replied. “It’s just family stuff. You know?”

I didn’t. 

“Derrick,” I said. “I don’t like your family.”

Derrick looked hurt.

“I know this is a lot,” he said. “And my dad is being an asshole. But… you don’t choose your family.”

“I mean… why not?” I said, following him as he carried the knife down the stairs. 

“What’s the alternative?” Derrick said. “I turn my back on my mom and dad? No. Never. I believe in loyalty, Lexi. Even when people aren’t perfect. Even when I don’t agree with them. I don’t agree with you all the time, but we’re still together.”

“Well, don’t expect me to come to any future McCabe Thanksgivings,” I said.

“I understand why you’d feel that way after today, but… you might change your mind when they’re your family, too.” Derrick stopped at the bottom of the stairs. He looked up at me with his big, dopey eyes.

“Derrick–” 

“Lexi, this isn’t how I wanted to do this. But you’ve seen the worst of my family secrets, and you’re still by my side. So will you stay by my side?”

Derrick was doing that thing again, that Trent thing, where he said a line and waited for my reaction. 

“Let’s just get out of here,” I said.

“Will you stay by my side?” He repeated like maybe he thought I hadn’t heard. “For the rest of our lives?”

“I just want to go.”

“I’m asking you to marry me.”

“I have ears, Derrick,” I snapped. It was the first time I’d ever snapped at him. I never snapped at anyone. Especially not him. 

His expression didn’t move an inch. He was smiling, for some reason, like this was the happiest day of his life.

“Then say yes,” he said.

“No, I don’t want to marry you,” I said. 

“Because this is where I come from?” He swallowed, shaking.

“No. Because this is who you’re choosing to be.” I replied. 

Derrick hung his head. The knife drooped to his knee.

“Things aren’t that black and white, Lexi.”

I clapped my hands over my ears as another shriek boomed through the basement, close now.

Derrick sighed.

“Fuck,” he said. He hurried into the basement proper, and I followed him. Again, I didn’t scream. 

What was left of the man was chained by the ankles to the wall. He crawled like a caterpillar, the stumps where his arms used to start on his torso haphazardly bandaged with paper towels and medical tape. His face was a pulp, his body bruised. He was naked. An overturned bucket leaked into the drain in the floor. He looked up at Derrick and I with wide, white eyes.

“Help me!” He screamed. “Get me out of here! Oh, Lord, please get me out of here!”

“Sorry, man,” Derrick said, stooping over the prisoner. His knee fell onto the man’s back, pinning him in place. He raised the knife. “Thanksgiving with the family. You know how it is.”

“Derrick,” I said. He looked up at me a second too late to see the bread knife flash under his chin. By the time he did, it was lodged all the way through his neck. His face was stunned, betrayed. I felt bad.

I pulled the knife out, followed by a torrent of blood. Down it went, towards the floor drain. 

Derrick dropped down to both knees. He clutched his neck. He didn’t scream. 

“Don’t make a sound,” I said to the armless, naked prisoner, who had been screaming a lot until then. He’d rolled away to the side as soon as Derrick’s weight was off of him. “If you stay quiet, we’ll be out of here in time to finish Thanksgiving with our own families.”

The man spat bloody drool.

“J-jehovah’s Witnesses don’t celebrate Thanksgiving,” he managed. 

“Yeah…” I said. “I think you’re onto something with that.”

Derrick twitched and gurgled. Then, finally, he stopped. 

I imagined my own family at home, topping off the evening with hot toddies and bad cable tv Christmas movies. 

“Lexi, Derrick,” Deb called from upstairs. “We’re cutting into the pie! Hurry up or your dad’ll eat it all before you get any. As soon as I find my knife!”

“I’ll help you!” I shouted up the stairs. 

My phone buzzed.

Miss you this year lex!! Happy Turkey Day!! Love, mom

I wiped blood from my thumb and texted her back.

Love you too.

I started up the stairs.

[jiminsass-istant]

WHO MV ANALYSIS: BRILLIANT STORY TELLING, QUEER CODING AND MORE

I have a lot to say. And yes i positively feel like a clown that this post comes right after jimin said "go ahead, misinterpret everything hehe". This might be a long one, so settle in. Also, if you are looking for this as some kind of validation for any ship, I'm afraid it might not serve that purpose (BUT keep reading!). This is simply an analysis of MV elements and cinematography in its purest form appreciating the brilliant work done by Lumpens and his assistant directors.

Part 1: Start of the story of a man in search of love

Let's start from the very beginning. Many of you have already figured out that Jimin is telling a story here (I'm not wrong yet Jimin, dammit). How do we know this? Look at that mini TV. Yes, this mini TV is actually our bookmark, our storyteller. In it's first appearance, it says "play" with a man walking at a normal pace, imitating jimin here, who is also walking.

Elements to notice here:-

The 'ONLY' signs on the road which mean these roads have only limited accessibility when it comes to directions. In my opinion, it symbolizes the rules that this world imposes on us. And here comes jimin whining/asking why he hasn't met 'her' even if he sees her at night? (imagines her) and thinks about her.

2. Also notice how it says "BLISS" on the neon sign but the world he's in is basically pre-tornado winds - there are papers flying, cars on fire, safety barrier tapes, even the mini TV is on fire. The flyer for the song says "who is!! Tornado of love" and basically serves as a warning that the 'tornado of love' is approaching soon.

3. Reference to 'Closer' (than this?) on the billboard with a man on it. Looks like a reference to a movie or song of 1995 which I haven't been able to find out yet. [help me]

Part 2: Searching gets more desperate

Moving on, we see Jimin entering the part of street with an old, dilapidated building in the background (so much to notice here!!)

Elements to look out:

Firstly, look at the mini TV which still says 'play' but the man in the TV is now running instead of walking. Just like how Jimin's steps are faster now, he's on his search for 'her', but he's getting desperate.

Notice the engineers in the background? Yes they are engineers- they have plans, measuring devices etc. And they are working to "renovate" the building. Interesting choice of scene right before a tornado... let's found out why-

Notice that on the right side to the entrance of this building, there's "B-1" written on the walls, but one could also read it at "13 1" At first glance, that's what it seemed like to me. I think people renovating a building whose name looks like a "13" is symbolism for jimin trying to heal/renovate/repair his heart/emotions/past traumas. It's about him still being in that phase where he is healing/ trying to heal himself by trying to find 'her' OR maybe he's trying to find 'her' when he is not even completely healed himself.

See the TV on the shopping cart on fire because it will be referenced later. Put a pin on it.

Part-3 Theatrics

With a flash of retro cable TV like lights, the perspective changes - as in now you are watching inside the mini TV. I'm talking about this part, when he changes direction and goes to the girl. So many interesting things happen, I'm giddy thinking about writing it.

Elements to notice:

I can't help but think of the words 'auto calibration ' that flashes right before Jimin does that cunty choreo with the female dancer. 'auto calibration ' literally means 'standardization' or 'correction' . I don't think people realise how queer coded it is. 'coded' being the keyword here. It could also mean 'standardized' as in the way we view idols as these perfect people with perfect dating lives.

3. The car is on fire- so yeah whatever is happening cannot be good. Everything is still chaotic and doesn't make it easy

2. The mini TV now shows various images with a heart '<3' symbolizing that he is engaging in some kind of relationship, but this is literally the biggest 'drama' ever. Because look at this scene- it's pure cinema..

"So many people to see" - people watching them date/engage while making a whole show out of it. There's also an ambulance nearby because obviously an idol's dating life shown to the public can leave people hurt and offended. As Jimin and the girl dance, they are literally in front of a local theatre called the 'OASIS'. My interpretation is that a celeb's dating life is literally 'theatrics' for the public. They are reduced to nothing but characters for entertainment, and worst part is that the public isn't happy either. No wonder, making it extremely difficult for Jimin to find true love. Special mention where the girl has him in a chokehold, quite literally an uncomfortable position, entangled with each other- or at least that's how the public views them.

3) In the same scene we see that the mini TV has tumbled down along with the shopping cart which was on fire, hence setting the car on fire too lol. Brilliant attention to detail.

Part-4 - where Jimin gets more desperate to find true love (in the past!)

As soon as the dancers leave, we see the huge billboard fall down and if i go with all the clues we have been getting, especially the travel show...it is WILD.

Because people are focusing on the possible OST called "Keep going", but DO YOU NOT REALISE HOW HUGE IT IS THAT JK IS REFERENCED IN A ROMANTIC SONG? dropping from the sky with 'who' written on it??!! "Who" without the questions or exclamations. I'll let you go delulu mode on that one. Moving on-

You must have noticed that to show a change in phase/scene, they have used multicolored flashes and change to 90s TV perspective. The same happens now after the billboard drops but the important thing to notice is the "rewind" on the screen now. Which basically means jimin going through different people is a thing of the past.

3. The crow/raven seen multiple times in the MV. Either way, a crow or raven is not something we see at night. They come out only at times of 'unnatural exceptions' like storms, earthquakes etc because they are not nocturnal creatures. While Jimin was trying to find love, there was definitely something happening which wasn't natural for him or was out of his comfort zone/he was not himself.

4. Another instance of queer coding I noticed was both men and women walking past him, similar to Like Crazy MV. It had a different symbolism in LC because he was trying to stay in the dream. But here people walking past him clearly means possible romantic partners. And he keeps stopping, keeps trying his luck with different people, almost always failing. OR- it could mean there are people of both genders walking past him but he never goes for the men in the past.

Part-5 - The tornado of love finally arrives

Now it says 'Play' on the screen meaning we are now in the present again. The tornado has built up, Jimin looks more confident, more smug as the tornado gains momentum behind him.

A flash of light, fireworks erupt as he sings his heart out. Even after the tornado is completely gone, the sparks and short circuits and destruction continues, meaning the 'tornado of love' arrived and certainly did a number on him.

Finally, we see him on a much calmer path. All cars lined up. He owns his life now. The situation is under control, the cars with lights on, ready to go.

I truly appreciate the storytelling in WHO MV. Lumpens Sir delivering as always. And I would love to know which things were Jimin's ideas but he wouldn't share that with us would he?

Let me know what you think and discuss in the comments if you want to.

[muramatsu-takehiko]

劇団東演『どん底』ポスター B2

A4チラシ（flyer）、タイトル（title logo type）はこちら

[lookingfts]

Talking about the fics I've written but not shared inspired me to go through my Unfinished Fics folder. Some of these are drabbles that I never posted, some of them are snippets of fics I never finished (and likely will never finish), but I'm going to share them today!

The first one is a fic where Kate is a cafe owner and Anthony plays at her open mic nights. I only really wrote the first scene (using The Night We Met before I used it in Sugar, lol.)

“Was this a stupid idea? Didi, am I actually an idiot?”

Kate rolled her eyes at Edwina’s theatrics as she wiped down the milk frother with a worn rag. “Of course not. It’ll go great, okay?”

She genuinely had no idea whether her idea would flop or not, but Kate wasn’t going to let on. She’d been trying to get Edwina to be more involved in the shop for months, and this was the first thing her sister had seemed genuinely excited about, even designing flyers and promoting the event online.

And if it did flop – if no one performed, or everyone was a talentless hack – it would be awkward but amusing, and they would never do it again. Kate hoped that wouldn’t be the case, of course, because new events had real potential to help their business, and she hated to picture the disappointment on Edwina’s face. Failure might build character, but Kate wasn’t quite ready to expose her sister to the harsh realities of the world so soon. Within those four walls, at least, she wanted to keep it at bay a little longer.

Kate felt Edwina’s anxiety rubbing off on her and waved her hand in the general direction of the tables. “We still have an hour. Go clean something and work off your nervous energy.”

Eddie bounced off to do just that as Kate stifled a yawn against her wrist. It had been a slower day, the foot traffic diminished by a steady drizzle of rain, which had fortunately stopped thirty minutes ago. They normally closed at eight but were staying open until ten, ready with decaf and homemade pastries delivered by Sophie that afternoon.

Even though mornings were their busiest time, Kate had always liked the atmosphere of the shop after dark. The aging brick walls and overstuffed leather chairs felt even more homey in the dim glow of the string lights crisscrossing the wooden rafters. During the day, her patrons were grabbing coffee or tea in a rush to somewhere else or camping out for the day to work anywhere but their cramped flats. At night, people were reading – or attempting to write – books. Chatting nervously on first dates. Business was slower, but Kate didn’t mind when the world slowed down a bit too.

Gradually, people started to filter in and take their seats, the sign-up sheet filling with names. Edwina seemed to relax at that and came back behind the counter to help Kate with the incoming orders. She spotted a few regulars, but was pleased to notice new faces as well.

“Hi, erm – do you still have spots for the open mic night?”

Kate nodded, pointing to the sheet without looking up. “Add your name there, everyone is performing in the order they signed up. The show starts in twenty minutes, would you like to order something?”

“Okay. Thanks. Espresso?”

“Sure, do you want-.” Kate’s sentence cut off abruptly as she finally glanced up, her mind going momentarily blank. Mr. Espresso was – striking, to say the least. He had a guitar case slung over his dark grey t-shirt, curly brown hair that swooped across his forehead in that way that seemed incidental but probably took quite a bit of effort, a jaw that could cut glass and dark eyes that were watching her so shrewdly that it was mildly disconcerting. “Uh, a pastry or something?”

“No, thank you.” He tugged his card out of his wallet and tapped it against the reader as Kate mentally chided herself. Since when was she into guitar boys? Ugh.

Fortunately, the odds were good that the spell would be broken the second he got on stage and broke out a mediocre cover of the white-man staple Wonderwall.

He waited by the counter as she quickly made his espresso, purposefully limiting eye contact with him lest she horribly embarrass herself again. Kate slid his cup across the faux marble surface, telling herself that she was just being polite as she muttered, “Good luck.”

“Thank you.” He took his coffee and found a seat near the corner. Kate allowed herself to indulge in one last glance before she was swept up in a new wave of last-minute attendees.

The crowd settled as Edwina directed the first performer onto the little platform they’d set up as a stage, with sound equipment rented from the music store down the street. Kate had counted sixteen sign-ups on the sheet, more than she was anticipating. They were, to her utter relief, mostly good. Two people, one man and one woman, performed five-minute standup sets about their spouses, only to reveal at the end, to much applause and laughter, that they were married to each other. Three read poems; their own, she thought, though Kate wasn’t familiar enough with poetry to know for sure. There were plenty of musicians, of course, a violinist and the typical singer-songwriters with varying degrees of vocal talent. One person did magic tricks. Edwina beamed through the whole thing.

“Please welcome Anthony Bridgerton!” Eddie said into the microphone after the magician had done his grand finale with a disappearing coin.

Mr. Espresso – Anthony, apparently – positioned himself on the wooden stool on stage and checked his guitar. The audience cheered and he grinned shyly. “Thank you. I don’t perform that often, so forgive me if my nerves get the best of me.”

Kate didn’t know if she bought the whole nervous act from a man with that bone structure, but it was clearly working. A redhead in the front looked like she might throw her bra on stage, and he hadn’t even started singing yet. Kate noticed that he had his guitar case closed, a rarity among the other starving artists who had kindly requested tips.

“This song is from Lord Huron, it’s called The Night We Met.” Anthony took a deep breath and Kate was lost from the first note.

I am not the only traveler Who has not repaid his debt I've been searching for a trail to follow again Take me back to the night we met

It was a lovely song, one Kate didn’t know but was certain she would listen to again. Anthony’s voice was good, soft and deep, a little raspy in the way Kate usually liked. But it was the emotion he was spilling into the lyrics that captured her attention. She was almost certain that someone’s ghost lived behind every word.

And then I can tell myself What the hell I'm supposed to do And then I can tell myself Not to ride along with you

I had all and then most of you Some and now none of you Take me back to the night we met

He looked up, his gaze locking with hers. Kate’s breathing hitched roughly in her chest. Those eyes that had been watching her too carefully before, dissecting and analyzing her, it had seemed, were downright devastating now. She found herself unable to move, pinned in place by the heartbreak that lanced his voice and traveled along the sharp contours of his face, triggering something in her stomach that Kate couldn’t recall feeling before.

When the night was full of terrors And your eyes were filled with tears When you had not touched me yet Oh, take me back to the night we met

I had all and then most of you Some and now none of you Take me back to the night we met

He reached the final chords and the song faded out. The fervent clapping, interspersed with a few whistles, snapped Kate out of her trance and she jerked back as if she’d been burned. Anthony wasn’t looking at her any longer, smiling down at his new, primarily female fans in the front row, and – oh.

She was really falling victim to the musician cliché, wasn’t she? He’d probably learned guitar to pick up women, not that Kate thought he had any problem with that to begin with, and she was just one of the many women in the crowd who had gotten caught up in his magnetism. Truly pathetic, honestly. It wasn’t often that Kate allowed herself to be swept away like that.

It was natural, of course. Musicians had an inherently sexy quality about them, and Kate had not exactly been drowning in male attention as of late. He might have a real shot at being successful, if he could win over even a card-carrying cynic like her.

Edwina announced the next act, and Kate got back to work, willing her heartbeat to settle.

[misc-obeyme]

unchained - chapter fifteen

masterpost read the chapter on ao3

recommended music: Don't Go Dark by DREAMERS word count: 2799

GN!MC x Arsenios [demon OC] a/n: I consider this to be the most cringe of chapters because of the lyrics that I made up. I described the song as well as I could, too, but it isn't really important as long as the message of it is clear. Anyway, Arrie's on his way to fuck some shit up at the end though lol. Warnings: none

Every time you saw Arsenios's empty seat in the classroom at RAD, your gut twisted as you remembered the way his door closed with such finality. You were convinced it was a temporary situation, that he was only trying to keep you away for your own safety. You weren't sure what he was doing now. You wanted to be there when he confronted Caligo, but you hadn't been able to convince him that you could handle it.

So when you saw a flyer on the bulletin board for a show by Angel's Temptation, you were surprised. The band wouldn't play without Arsenios. You looked around the hallway and quickly tore the flyer off the board. The band was scheduled to play at a small local venue that evening. Was Arsenios still working while he was trying to lure the reaper to him? Or was the band somehow playing without him?

You stuffed the flyer in your bag, where it stayed crumpled until after your student council duties. When everyone else had gone home, you waited until it was almost time for the concert. Then you took out the flyer and headed to the address printed on it.

You tried to tell yourself that you were only going for the music. You were a fan of the band now, it was only normal for you to support them by showing up. It was definitely not because you were desperate for a glimpse of him. Not at all because you were worried about the state he had been in when you saw him last.

You knew you couldn't go with any of the others. Arsenios would spot you with any of them instantly. Even so, you also knew that he had an uncanny knack of knowing whenever you were in the same room with him.

The venue was a small bar with a tiny stage lit by a set of dim lights. You lingered at the back, behind the crowd and against the wall. There were plenty of demons in attendance. Maybe you would be unnoticed.

You first saw the other band members, easily bantering with each other as they did their sound check. And then you saw Arsenios. His usual calm and confident demeanor had a heaviness to it that you didn't like.

You could see the dark circles of the tattoos on his hands. They were working on setting up a mic, but you thought about the way he clenched them when he was feeling especially serious or anxious. You knew just enough to understand what that meant. The story of how they had been mangled and then healed.

The set was a mixture of rock songs and slower ballads. It was more intense than the acoustic set they had played at Crimson Street, but quieter than the grand theatrical performances they put on at The Fall.

Arsenios had stuck to the electric guitar the whole time, singing with his usual deep baritone. You couldn't know if he was aware of your presence. His eyes scanned the crowd, but didn't focus on any one spot in particular. He was just as present as he normally was, clearly putting his soul into his performance.

After several songs, there was a brief pause. You watched as Arsenios seemed to be arguing with Chymion and Lael. Even Liviana left her drums to join them and say a few words.

Whatever Liviana had said, Arsenios calmed down. He waved at them, clearly exasperated, but not willing to argue further.

The lights dimmed and a spotlight illuminated a piano that you hadn't noticed at the back of the stage. Arsenios sat down at the piano and began to play without first introducing the song.

It began simply, a soft repetition of chords and a small scale in the melody.

And then Arsenios began to sing.

The piano became even simpler, reverting back to only chords as his voice soared over them, delicate and melancholy.

You listened to the first and second verses, enraptured. From the first lines of the lyrics, you knew they were about you. The reality of this only vaguely registered as a squeezing in your heart.

in the darkness I could hear you your heartbeat in my song

You held your breath as the accompaniment became a little more rapid and Arsenios's voice lifted into the chorus. It was like every note was full of something that only you could see. It was as though everyone else had disappeared. It was as though you were in the dark dance hall again, just the two of you. He was singing this song to you.

these hands are bloodstained but now I am unchained

The chords slowed down again for the third verse and you nearly jumped when you heard him sing words that you had spoken to him not that long ago. In the Devildom Botanical Garden, when he had finally told you more than he ever had about his past.

you said you don't care what I've done or what I've had to do

The chorus came in again and your mind was whirling. You weren't sure what this meant. This song he had written about you. What was he trying to say? It seemed like you should know, like it should be obvious. But there was so much pain in it still. Like he was desperate, like he didn't know what to do with his own feelings.

A brief musical interlude that involved some unexpected scales and fingerwork caught your attention as it descended into the loud and dramatic chords of the bridge.

I used to sing about heartache now all I can sing about is you

You listened to the chorus as he went through it twice more. But you were only barely hearing it. The way he varied the melody as he let the chords and his voice become loud before everything softened in a diminuendo. The last chorus was quiet, almost pleading. The final chord, a single scale, until all that was left was the distant ringing of the D minor in the bass clef and a single D in the treble. The echo that it seemed to produce as he let the sustain pedal carry the sound. The way it cut off abruptly as he sat back.

It was too much, wasn't it? Was this song really about you?

You wanted to know about Arsenios's past. You wanted to know what had happened to him and why he was still suffering from those events now.

But with this song, he had given you something else. You remembered two lines from the third verse.

but I would die a thousand times just to end up here with you

And suddenly everything made sense. This song was a confession. When you saw Arsenios at his apartment, he looked like he hadn't slept in days. He could barely look at you. And then he told you to stay away.

Arsenios was in love with you. And that was more frightening to him than any reaper could ever hope to be.

Your gut twisted because the truth of this hit you hard. The band began to play a new song, but you didn't hear it. You turned abruptly and nearly ran out of the venue.

As you rushed down the street, making your way back to the House of Lamentation blindly, your mind was focused on only one thing.

Did Arsenios know you were there? Did he know you were listening?

You still hadn't been able to tell. But he always knew when you listened to him at RAD. Why would this setting be any different?

If he had known, then he had performed that song on purpose. Was this his way of telling you how he felt? Was it because he couldn't actually say it to you directly?

And even if all of that was true, even if this was a real confession of love, did it matter?

Arsenios had told you it would be better for you to stay apart. He said it was too dangerous. He might love you, but did he trust you?

-

That night, Arsenios lay sprawled on his back on his bed, staring up at the ceiling. He hadn't bothered to turn on the lights, only trudged up the stairs of the loft and collapsed fully clothed on the blankets.

Of course Arsenios knew you were there. He could sense you the moment you walked into that small venue. You didn't come forward, only stayed against the back wall, but he didn't need you close to hear you.

Arsenios had memorized the rhythm of your heartbeat and the way it synced up with your breathing. He recognized the beat in your tread, every footstep, every motion. He could sense the song that accompanied you no matter where you went.

It was something he first came to know at RAD, simply because your humanity made it stand out among the cacophony of so many demons. Now it was like you were a radio turned to full volume. Any time you were anywhere near him, your sounds flooded his senses.

He hadn't had any intention of playing the song he wrote about you. But soon enough, Chymion had spotted you in the crowd and informed Lael and Liviana of your presence. Then it was three against one in the argument about whether or not he should play your song. He had lost.

Arsenios knew that was a lie. He could have argued harder.

But for some reason, he wanted you to hear it. He needed you to. His confession, though full of fear and uncertainty, was holding the only hope of healing he'd had in centuries.

And it might end up being the last thing he ever sang to you.

It wasn't that Arsenios believed he couldn't find a way to defeat Caligo if it came down to a fight. It was more that Arsenios knew he would sacrifice his life for you if he had to. You were never supposed to be part of this situation. The only reason Caligo was targeting you was because of him and your closeness to him.

Arsenios felt that the only way to keep you safe was to bring this situation to an end once and for all. He had thought it was over long ago, but now that it was back he wasn't going to just wait around. He wasn't going to put it off until it was too late to protect you.

Arsenios sighed and closed his eyes.

Lucifer had been right.

If you were at all competent-

If he was at all competent, none of this would even be happening.

If he hadn't trusted Caligo to begin with, all those years ago, this wouldn't be happening now.

Abby chose that moment to jump up onto the bed, landing directly on Arsenios's stomach.

"Oof!" He flung his hands out to catch her, sitting up with her in his lap.

"All right, I get it," he said to her. "I'll stop feeling sorry for myself, okay?"

Abby purred and pushed her head into his hand.

"I know what I have to do," he said. "I've never met anyone like MC, Abby. Their sound is so intimately human, so much happening and yet all working together perfectly. It's soothing. It… merges somehow with that hole in my heart. I'll do anything to keep them safe."

Abby meowed.

Arsenios felt the heaviness of guilt press down on him. There was one important detail about reapers that he simply hadn't told you. He was sure if you knew, you would be more insistent about accompanying him. It was only his good luck that kept you from finding out from someone else. He wasn't sure how long that luck would hold out. But he only needed one more day.

Arsenios knew it would be a simple matter to get to Caligo. He was ready and tomorrow, he would go find Barbatos.

-

Arsenios picked up Little D No 2 who had been scampering conveniently through the gardens at the Demon Lord's Castle. He kicked his little legs and gnashed his teeth, clearly unhappy to have been caught.

"Hey," Arsenios said. "Calm down, it's just me."

No 2 stopped mid-thrash and looked at Arsenios for a moment before smiling. "Arrie!"

"Yeah," Arsenios said. "Can you get Barbatos for me? I don't want anyone else in the castle to know that I've talked to him."

No 2 kicked his feet slightly. "You mean you don't want Lord Diavolo to know!"

Arsenios huffed. "Yeah, you got me."

"Is it 'cause he'll tell Lucifer?" No 2 asked.

"Stop asking questions and go get Barbatos, please," Arsenios said.

"Okay!" No 2 exclaimed.

Arsenios put him back down and watched him scramble off into the castle.

Moments later, Barbatos came out where Little D No 2 had gone in. He saw Arsenios instantly.

"Sorry," Arsenios said when Barbatos stopped beside him. "But can you send me to the Underworld? You know where I need to go. I don't have time to walk there myself."

Barbatos regarded Arsenios for a long moment. This wasn't unusual, necessarily, but there was a tension in the air. Arsenios folded his arms and waited.

"Is it wise for you to go alone?" Barbatos asked.

Arsenios frowned. "This is my problem. And I'm going to take care of it."

Barbatos actually chuckled, which made Arsenios glare at him. "How exactly do you plan on taking care of a reaper?"

"You think I can't handle it?" Arsenios asked.

Barbatos shook his head. "I simply wish for you to consider what you will do once you find him."

Arsenios paused. He had considered it, of course. "I'm… going to talk to him."

The fondness in Barbatos's eyes was both endearing and infuriating. "Do you think he will listen?"

Arsenios huffed. "Maybe not, but it isn't like I have a choice. Look, you can't talk me out of this. If you don't help me get there, I'll walk instead. I'm going to talk to him, try to get my grimoire back, try to end this peacefully. This has gone on too long and I'm not about to put MC's life in any more danger."

"And what about your life, Arsenios?" Barbatos asked.

"What's my life compared to MC's?" Arsenios shot back. He knew he was getting worked up. He took a breath in an attempt to calm himself.

Barbatos shook his head. "This is exactly why I am hesitant to send you."

Arsenios sighed. "Listen, Barb. You know me. I thought I was broken beyond repair. I didn't know I was searching until I found them. I don't plan to die tonight, but if I sacrifice my life to protect them then I'll be doing it knowing I'm saving the one thing that matters to me."

Barbatos closed his eyes in a long suffering expression. "Have you truly found what you think you have, I wonder? Or do you perhaps still fail to understand exactly what it is you have always been seeking?"

"Please, Barb, I don't have time for your all powerful demon riddles," Arsenios said.

Barbatos considered him for a moment. "Very well. I can see that there is nothing I can say to dissuade you. I will open the portal for you."

Arsenios looked suspiciously at this sudden reversal. "Is that right?"

Barbatos chuckled. "Have you changed your mind after all?"

Arsenios knew he didn't have the luxury to question it. "No. Send me, please."

Barbatos opened a portal. Just before Arsenios stepped through it, he said, "Please be careful."

Arsenios picked up his guitar, which he had left on a nearby bench, and stepped through the portal. He found himself in the Underworld - a dark and ominous corner of it, somewhat near to the reaper prison. Barbatos had known that Arsenios would need to be at a crossroads and that was exactly where he now found himself. The jagged dirt paths that connected beneath his feet were in the center of a forest full of black and leafless trees.

It was dark and empty. The sky was grey. Arsenios strummed a chord on his guitar and it fell dully into the air around him. He didn't let that stop him. He played another chord, letting his fingers get used to the feel of the strings in this strange place. Soon he began some elaborate finger work, soft but complicated. The notes whispered around him like hushed prayers.

Arsenios played the guitar this way for hours. He never stopped, never once faltered. And finally he was rewarded with a flash of silver, letting him know he had finally succeeded. The reaper he sought was not far off, his yellow eyes gleaming from the depths of the trees.

masterpost | chapter fourteen | chapter sixteen [coming soon]

taglist: @avalordream @lonely-north-star @expressionless-fr @featheredcrowbones @pumpkinsareamazing

@szired @bagofwetmice @ashley675901

as always, please comment or dm me if you'd like to be added or removed from the taglist!

masterlist | Thank you for reading!

[olivia-anderson-fanfic]

Dancing 'til the Break of Dawn - Pt 19

<Pt18

(TWST Zombie apocalypse AU where Yuu beast tames just a little too close to the sun)

“I can’t believe you’re making me clean while injured,” Yuu lamented, shaking his head.

Deuce didn’t respond, he was too busy dragging Yuu’s plant pots back inside. The plants were withering slightly, the weeds had gotten to them while Yuu was away, and the cold certainly hadn’t helped… but Yuu had faith.

Not a lot of faith, but still more faith than he did when he first planted those seeds, when he wasn’t even sure whether they would sprout.

… unless the seeds had only sprouted to be contrary or to prove a point. In which case… they will never succeed. Mwahaha!

He pinched the bridge of his nose. Is it impossible to annoy yourself? Because he was pretty sure he had just managed it. That was kind of depressing.

“You started cleaning, we didn’t even ask you to,” Ace said.

“You’re evil,” Yuu sniffed.

“I mean, yeah, true, but this isn’t why.”

Deuce set the pots down and groaned, stretching his back for a moment, before sending Yuu a flat look. “Are you admitting that you’re injured, now? Because you still haven’t finished your coconut water and cereal.”

Yuu’s sweeping took him to the other side of the store.

Because he was a good ‘roommate’ who cleaned up after both himself and others!

Which was, frankly, a necessity. Putting three teenage boys together during an apocalyptic scenario was a recipe for disaster hygiene-wise. And it was made even worse by Ace, who tracked blood everywhere he went, because he sucks.

Don’t worry, though, Ace was doing his penance:

Yuu had figured out that Ace wasn’t half bad at knitting, and Ace was now being forced to make Grim clothes. The little booties had already been acquired, but it was getting cold out and Grim didn’t have nearly enough fur to deal with it. So, of course, Yuu had decided to make this someone else’s problem. Ace’s in particular because, again, he sucks.

Would Yuu have made him do it regardless of Ace’s many crimes? There is insufficient evidence for a court of law to reliably name him guilty (nor a functioning court of law at all), so… no.

“It should be illegal to make me pay child support in this economy,” Ace complained from somewhere in the store.

“There’s no one here to prosecute!” Yuu said.

“Yeah, well, there’s no one here to make me pay, either!”

“Sucks to suck,” said Deuce. He had moved on to taking stock of their current supplies, checking to see if they were running low on any spices. Because he was surprisingly helpful from time to time.

Mostly when his food source was in peril.

Why was everyone so food-motivated these… days…?

Right. Apocalypse. Yeah, that makes sense, actually.

“Why doesn’t he have to pay?!” Ace said.

“‘Cause he helps me out from time to time. Willingly,” Yuu shot back, rolling his eyes.

Ace groaned. Loud to the point of being theatrical.

Yuu simply grinned and continued sweeping the floors.

Until he reached the front of the store.

… was that a flyer? Huh? Huh?

The doors slid open automatically when he neared it, a small bell chiming above his head, but he barely paid that any mind, reaching around and yanking the flyer down.

Cold air washed over his face as he peered down at the… foreign thing in his hands.

Many things about this made Yuu pause. The fact that someone had apparently found their hiding place was a big one, of course.

But, also, how did someone get their hands on a computer and a printer in the apocalypse?!

No, there was definitely something wrong with this.

“Yuu…?” Deuce said, standing on tiptoes to try to see over the aisles. Unfortunately for him, he was just a little too short regardless (an unfortunate consequence of being a mere teenager), and only his terrible green hair could be seen over the shelves.

Yuu ran a hand through his hair, stepping backward, letting the door shut in front of him.

And then he shook his head to himself, stuffing the flyer into his pocket.

“You good?” Deuce asked, coming around the corner, twirling a pen around his finger idly.

“I just… thought I saw something out there,” Yuu said, after a second. “My fan club’ll deal with it, if it’s a problem, though.”

Deuce pursed his lips. He nodded, slowly, and then went back to work without another word.

Yuu wasn’t surprised. Deuce, for some reason, was starting to seriously dislike Grim, and Yuu couldn’t, for the life of him, figure out why. Beyond the whole ‘being perfect’ thing, Grim… hadn’t really done anything to Deuce, as far as Yuu was aware. In fact, they had been getting closer as of late, Yuu had seen the two cuddling on more than one occasion (which he was very normal and not jealous about).

Not to mention Grim had saved all of their lives not too long ago!

Sure, he had only saved Ace and Deuce grudgingly, because Yuu asked him to, but Yuu was being entirely genuine when he said that he couldn’t force Grim to do anything he didn’t want to do. If Grim found that he truly couldn’t tolerate Yuu’s friends, he would bite them and force Yuu to move on.

So, yeah, honestly, Deuce had nothing to be upset about.

If anything, Yuu had more reasons to be upset with Grim.

Not that Grim could ever do anything wrong, of course, even if he tried!

It was just…

Grim was being a little… strange. Quieter, more prone to hiding and watching Yuu from the shadows. He still accepted pets when Yuu initiated them, happy to let Yuu scratch him behind the ears, but he no longer came over and rubbed up against Yuu’s legs until he dropped what he was doing in favor of pressing a kiss to the cat’s head.

His mental health was dangling from a damn string. But Grim had never really taken to cat toys, so waving that in front of him wasn’t going to lure him out…

And it was even worse for Yuu’s physical health, seeing as 99% of his survival strategy hinged on Grim liking him.

Yuu was reminded of that one story of a lady who went to the vet because her pet snake had started acting strange – eating less, laying out straight beside her in bed instead of burrowing in the blankets, that kind of thing… only for the vet had told her that her snake wasn’t sick, it was preparing itself to eat her.

It was not a particularly great thought to have.

Especially not when someone had, apparently, found their hideout. His fan club was supposed to have stopped it. Why hadn’t they?

He’d love to pretend that it had been left by a particularly bold fan club member, but zombies can’t read.

Yuu pulled the flyer from his pocket again, squinting down at the words.

Hm. It was… in English. That was… a choice, considering they lived in Japan. Yuu had taken English classes before, but it had been ages since he had even thought about school, and languages tend to slip away when you don’t use them. He could, probably, sound out the letters, but that wouldn’t help if he didn’t know what the sounds meant.

He glanced at Grim. Hiding amongst the shelves, peering at him from behind what had probably been a ketchup bottle once, but was now a weird, dark brown color. He wondered, absently, if the zombie could speak in English.

Then decided it didn’t matter – Grim wouldn’t tell him, anyway.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Deal with this for me, please?”

But Grim… didn’t.

The next day, there was another flyer. Yuu frowned, wondering, absently, whether the cultist fight had hit the Zombie Supply Chain a little too heavily. He doubted it, if only because that should have been a beating for the cultists, what with how much they had been outnumbered. Yuu would have been surprised if any died, let alone enough that his entire stalker base would suddenly go missing.

Maybe ugly-bob-man was on vacation. Or something. He wouldn’t stay gone long, though, not if Yuu was in danger. The perpetrators would become well-acquainted with him soon enough.

And yet, the day after that, there were three more fliers.

This time, Yuu hesitated, genuinely considering telling Ace and Deuce, before deciding he really didn’t want to. Things had settled down somewhat, and they’d just had a long few weeks. They deserved, like, a month of relaxation before the bullshit started up again. And this would definitely trigger his friends’ paranoia.

Yuu didn’t want to have to deal with that.

He didn’t even want to deal with his own (totally nonexistent) trauma, thank you very much!

Still, he sighed as they settled down for bed that night, and said, “Do either of you know any English?”

“Not really,” said Ace, shaking his head just slightly as he settled down against Yuu’s chest. “I know a couple of words, ‘cause tourists used to stop me from time to time to ask for directions and shit, but usually I just used Google Translate, y’know?”

Yuu nodded, because he absolutely did know.

He also thought it was annoying that Americans always came up to him in Japan expecting him to know English for them. They were the ones visiting! They should be the ones making the effort to learn how to speak with him!

There. His weekly rant about Americans is over. Time to tune in for Deuce’s answer.

“I know some!” he said.

Yuu blinked. “Really?”

Deuce said something that Yuu couldn’t understand.

Yuu clapped politely. “What’s’it mean?”

“‘Hand over the money’,” Deuce said.

“... Deuce,” said Yuu.

“What the fuck,” Ace said, emphatically.

Deuce huffed. “It’s still more than you can do.”

“That is not what I’m talking about and you know it.”

“Maybe I don’t, huh, have you ever considered that?!”

“Aw, practically bilingual and yet you can’t understand a basic sentence?”

Yuu ignored their bickering. There wasn’t any real heat behind any of Ace’s words, so he didn’t have to fear Ace stabbing Deuce out of anger. And, if Deuce tried to punch Ace, he’d have to move a lot beneath Yuu to do it, and that should be enough to wake him up before a real fight could break out.

So, he was free to drift.

Dully, he thought that it wouldn’t matter if he told them about the flyers. Neither of them would know what it said, either.

It could be someone asking to team up, for all they knew – they hadn’t been killed yet! That was a good sign!

But Yuu knew that Ace and Deuce would not see it that way until they were sure what the words said. He should try to find an English-to-Japanese dictionary before telling them about it. No need to worry them over what could be nothing.

Unfortunately for him, he didn’t seem to have a choice.

He wasn’t a pious guy, but he was starting to become one. If only because there was no way there wasn’t someone up there laughing evilly as he went through The Horrors again.

Yuu woke up to a dark store. Because the store was always dark at night, that’s the whole point of nighttime. He didn’t feel tired enough to go back to sleep, though. He blinked a few times to let his vision adjust to the darkness, absently pushing Ace’s head away, grimacing at the wet spot of drool that the boy had left on his chest. Why had he started sleeping in the same bed as his friends again?

Right. The futon.

Worth it.

He, slowly, extracted himself from the cuddle pile, careful not to wake either of his friends.

And then he started making his way to the front of the store.

He had woken up early, after all, he might as well see if he could catch the particularly determined salesmen in the act –.

Hm.

It might not be nighttime.

Yuu stared at the layers upon layers of fliers pasted to their door. A little awed, a little horrified.

He ignored the normal chime of the bell above the door in favor of stepping outside.

Fuck it was bright out. Yuu gave a hiss, immediately covering his eyes with his hands, almost blinded by the appearance of the stupid sun.

He heard what sounded like a laugh.

It… didn’t belong to Ace or Deuce.

Yuu flinched away from the sound, immediately dropping his hands.

There were two tall, blurry figures, both standing a little too close comfort. But they didn’t try to touch Yuu, they simply… stood there, dark figures that loomed over him just slightly, waiting for his eyes to adjust.

Honestly, it was a little menacing.

But Yuu preferred this over an outright murder attempt.

“... who’re you?” Yuu asked, rapidly blinking the tears at the corners of his eyes away, trying to take in anything about the people in front of him. Their hair looked somewhere between blue and green, so his vision must have been really fucked up.

Or maybe it was just a lingering effect of the two separate times Yuu had experienced blood loss. Or the concussion he was still, probably, recovering from! Frankly, Yuu was the chew toy of the Gods, and it was not fun!

“I’m Jade. This is my brother, Floyd,” a cool voice said.

Yuu nodded along. The names were a little strange, but he knew of a guy named Riddle, so it wasn’t too big of a deal.

“My name’s Yuu –.”

“We know.”

Oh! Okay! So the menacing vibes are certainly not going away!

No, he is just paranoid. Surely. There are normal, not horrifying reasons for them to know who Yuu is.

“Cool, cool, cool,” said Yuu, unsure how else to react. “Do you, like, know me from school or something? I’m sorry, I don’t really remember…”

“Why haven’t you been reading our flyers, ne, Yuu?” Floyd almost whined, which wasn’t exactly an answer to his question.

“I can’t read them – even if I wanted to, it’s impossible,” Yuu snapped. “I don’t know how you expect anyone to read English in Japan.”

“... oh,” said the second one.

“Yeah. Oh,” Yuu said, sighing. His vision had finally cleared, for the most part. Their hair really was blue-green, it seemed. Yuu figured that made sense – surely Deuce couldn’t be the only person with skewed priorities, though Yuu had been sure that most people who were dumb enough to bother with their hair during the apocalypse had died off by now.

“We can read it to you, then!” the second one said, a hand on Yuu’s shoulder.

It was his good shoulder, thankfully, so it didn’t hurt, but it was still a little more familiar than Yuu would usually prefer.

Before he could protest this, though, he found himself being dragged over to the wall of flyers.

He glanced behind himself, toward the boy’s brother (twin, maybe?), Jade, who had seemed more calm and collected, but the guy didn’t seem all that intent on helping him.

Great!

Where the fuck was Grim?!

“See, it says here that we’ve cleared out an old mall, so we’re inviting everyone to come live as part of a society again! It’ll be great!”

“Oh,” said Yuu. He blinked at the pair, unsure why they put him off so much. Like, sure, they were probably stupid – there was no way that plan would end well – but that shouldn’t make him uncomfortable… well, they had blue-green hair, so maybe that was just triggering his oh god I’m cursed senses? “Uh. No thanks. Going to the Cornucopia in the Hunger Games sounds safer than whatever bloodbath is gonna happen there.”

Jade smiled, his eyes gleaming strangely in the light. They were light brown, he was pretty sure, but they looked slightly off in a way he couldn’t really describe – glassy, maybe? But he certainly didn’t look like he was close to tears…

“You misunderstand, Yuu. This isn’t an offer. We are telling you that you’re coming with us.”

“Oh!” said Yuu, again. He forced a smile. “Coolcoolcool. Counteroffer.”

Yuu slid a knife into Floyd’s side.

… neither of them seemed to mind all that much.

Floyd merely pouted, as if offended.

Yuu yanked the knife back out – more out of confusion than anything. Normally, he would leave the knife in, because taking it out would put Floyd at risk for bloodloss, and if anyone knew how much of a bitch bloodloss could be it was Yuu…

But the blood that bubbled from Floyd’s new wound was sluggish, darker in color than it should have been.

Yuu stepped back, nearly stumbling over a curb, his knife out in front of him. “What the – what are you?!”

Jade drew his lips into a frown, but it was more mocking than anything. “All that pouting over the past few weeks about how us zombies aren’t talking to you, and when we finally do you go and stab us. How hypocritical.”

What?!

~~~~~

Pt20>

[laboitediabolique]

Flyer for theatrical release of "Garaga (AKA Hyper Psychic Geo Garaga)", Asmik, October 1989

[jujumin-translates]

[A3!] ★ Main Story | Act 14 - DREAM CATCHER | Episode 6 - Relaxation Research

Kazunari: Yes, yes… Ahh, I see~. Roger that. For now, I’ll make those revisions and send it back to you~...

Kazunari: Yes, goodbye.

*Beep*

Kazunari: Haahh…

Kazunari: (Another no-go~... I think that’s like the fifth time.)

Kazunari: (I knew things would be different from when I was a student, but all this criticism is starting to take a toll on my self-confidence~.)

Kazunari: (I know I went to art school and all, but that was for Japanese painting, so I’m basically entirely self-taught when it comes to design.)

Kazunari: (I feel like my lack of knowledge of the fundamentals is holding me back.)

Kazunari: (I’ve been able to make things work so far because the people who already know me well enough have asked me to do what I’m good at, but…)

Kazunari: (If I wanna be able to meet the wide range of expectations of a bigger client base, doing the same thing I’ve always done probably isn’t gonna work out.)

Kazunari: (Maybe I should seriously brush up on my design skills again~.)

Kazunari: Design… Course… Advanced…

Kazunari: (“Online Courses”, “Design Study Abroad”... There sure are a lot of ‘em~.)

*Door opens*

Muku: I’m home.

Kazunari: Welcome backsies~.

Muku: Ah, sorry, are you in the middle of work?

Kazunari: It’s all good. You’re home early today, Mukkun.

Muku: I think I’m going to go take a walk and look around Veludo Way.

Muku: I know some of the new theater troupes have been doing street acts there lately, so I thought it might be informative to watch some of them.

Kazunari: Gotcha~, I think I’ll tag along and take a little break then!

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Muku: There are new theater troupes all over the place.

Muku: Some of them focus on theatrical plays, some focus on dance or physical expression, some of them specialize in musicals…

Muku: And then there are some unusual ones, like a cross between cooking and theater, or a cross between muscle training and theater…

Kazunari: Maybe their aim is just to differentiate themselves from the other troupes, but regardless, there’s still a lotta unexpected and exciting things~.

Kasumi: Oh? Muku-kun and Kazunari-kun?

Muku: Hello!

Kazunari: You out shopping, Kasumiinu?

Kasumi: I am. I was just at the bookstore. Today’s the release date of “The Saintess is Omitted”. Do you read it too, Muku-kun?

Muku: Ah! That’s right, the release date was today! Of course, I read it!

Muku: I’ve been following the standard storyline of the saintess up to now, and it’s been really interesting to see the surprising turn of events that caused the tables to be turned completely.

Muku: And I really love the charm of heroines who are more hero-like!

Muku: I never would’ve imagined I’d forget about the release date… How did I forget about it…?

Muku: My memory’s as useless as eraser dust…

Kazunari: Things have been pretty hectic lately~. It’s not your fault.

Kasumi: Is the troupe doing okay? Things must be rough with the new Fleur Award and all.

Kazunari: We’re all working our hardest to come up with a plan~. Spring Troupe’s performance was a hit and our rank went up.

Muku: We’re a little anxious, but Summer Troupe is going to try our best too!

Kasumi: I see. I’m sure all of you in Summer Troupe will do just fine.

Kasumi: Ah, right. I have something I wanted to give you, Muku-kun.

Muku: ?

*Paper rustles*

Kasumi: This is a flyer for an upcoming play, and since the leading role is a prince, I couldn’t help but think of you, Muku-kun.

Kasumi: It’s a performance with a long history, and it’s performed at the National Theater with a different cast every year.

Kasumi: I know it might be none of my business, but I’m sure it’d be wonderful to see you standing at position zero as a prince up on such a big stage, Muku-kun.

Muku: B-But I’m not sure I’m capable of taking on a role as big as the lead in an outside performance yet…!

Kasumi: I don’t think that’s true at all. I think you’re definitely capable of being on a stage like that one.

Kazunari: You have tons of experience, Mukkun. Dontcha think that’s why Kasumiinu told you about it in the first place~?

Muku: T-Thank you very much. I feel a little more confident in myself when you put it like that.

Muku: I’ll try and look into the stage too.

Kasumi: Okay. Well then, bye.

*Kasumi walks away*

Muku: …

Muku: (“Audition Notice”, huh… I wonder if I can really stand on such a big stage like that too someday.)

Muku: (But right now…)

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