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expectingtofly · 4 years

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Eternity

15x20 fix-it coda

also on ao3

I don’t know how to cope with the finale, so I wrote this:

Dean opened his eyes to mountains.

Bright, blue sky, tall grass at his feet. Cool, brisk, fresh air. He ran a hand over his chest. No blood. No pain. He took a deep breath. So this was his Heaven.

He hadn’t wanted to die. Not now, not when he had just been finding his way. Researching, hunting, trying to be happy for Sam and Eileen—adopting a dog, for fuck’s sake. Trying so hard to not let Cas’ sacrifice go to waste, to live his life fully. But there was so much he’d still wanted to do.

His eyes burned with tears and he blinked fiercely. Funny, he’d once thought Heaven would be peaceful, happy. But it hurt, so much, to leave Sam behind. It hurt knowing there was truly no chance of ever seeing Cas again—

Shaking his head, he stepped forward, staring up at the weathered, old building he’d appeared beside. This was his ending. He had to accept it; maybe one day he could accept it. He had an eternity to come to terms with it all, he supposed.

“Dean!” someone greeted him as he walked around the corner of the building, and he realized Bobby was sitting on the front porch. The front porch of the Harvelle Roadhouse, Dean realized.

“Bobby?” He raised his arms automatically as Bobby rose out of his chair and pulled him into a hug. “What are you doing here? What memory is this?”

“It ain’t a memory.” Bobby pulled away and clapped him on the shoulder, smiled. “Heaven’s different now. Your boy Jack fixed it. Everyone’s free, not trapped in memories of their past life. You get to live a new life up here.”

Stunned, Dean looked around. Baby sat a few feet away in the parking lot. Low music carried from inside the Roadhouse. No monsters. Freedom. Felt like a pretty good ending. Almost perfect.

“Jack’s here, by the way,” Bobby said, sinking into one of the chairs on the porch.

“He is?” Dean sat down in the chair next to Bobby. “But he said—”

Bobby laughed. “He may be God, or the equivalent, but he’s just a boy. I think the whole raindrop thing got old after one day. I have a feeling he’ll be visiting Sam and the others on Earth soon enough.”

Dean laughed and gestured to the roadhouse. “Are Ellen and Jo here?”

Bobby nodded. “Rufus too. Your friend Charlie, Kevin, everyone else, they’re all just down the road. We’ve been waiting for you and Sam. Didn’t think you'd arrive so quickly, to be honest.”

“Me neither,” Dean admitted. “Sam, he’ll be okay, won’t he? I told him, I don’t want him to hunt anymore, I want him to be happy with Eileen, have some kids—” He realized he was clenching the armrests of the chair.

“I think he’ll be just fine,” Bobby said. “You’re gonna be alright too.”

“Have to be, right?” Dean asked. His throat felt tight. “I’m in Heaven now.”

Bobby studied him and Dean looked away, swallowed hard as he stared out at the mountains, at the trees in every shade of green, at the dirt road disappearing into the distance.

“He’s here too.”

Dean snapped his head back to stare at Bobby, who smiled knowingly. His heart began thumping in his chest and he gripped the armrests once again.

“Soon as Jack showed up, he brought someone else back.”

“He did?” Dean stood, his heart racing. Tears were pricking his eyes again, but he saw Bobby’s smile widen. “Cas?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Bobby nodded at the door to the roadhouse. “I’m sure he’s waiting inside.”

Turning, Dean wrenched open the door and rushed into the barroom.

The lights were on, the jukebox playing “The Rain Song” low, and there, turning around to face him, was Castiel.

Blue eyes, the trenchcoat, the crooked tie. Dean froze, staring.

Castiel smiled. “Hello, Dean.”

Dean had him in his arms before he realized he was rushing forward. His hands gripped at the familiar fabric of the trenchcoat, and he felt Castiel’s arms come up around him, hold him tight. A sob rose in his throat, then he was crying like he hadn’t cried since the night Castiel died. He buried his face in Castiel’s shoulder and cried from relief so acute it felt like he was dying all over again.

“I thought you were gone,” he choked out. “I thought I’d lost you forever—” He pulled back to look at Castiel and search his face to confirm it was really him. “You died, I watched you die.”

“It's me,” Castiel said, still holding tightly to him. His eyes were wet. "Jack brought me back."

“Since when?” Tentatively, he raised a hand to touch Castiel’s face, then let his hand stay there, cupping Castiel's jaw. Castiel looked younger; Dean wondered if he looked younger too. “When were you going to come see me?”

A sad smile tugged at Castiel’s mouth and he ducked his head. “I wasn’t sure, I thought perhaps—”

“Cas, I love you.” The words came out so easily, but they had been building in his chest for a long time now.

Castiel raised his head, and he looked so surprised, so unsure.

“I love you,” Dean repeated. He brought his other hand to Castiel’s cheek, cradled his face. “I’m so sorry I never told you; I never even admitted it to myself for so long. I told myself you couldn’t ever feel that way towards me, of all people. And then when I knew, it was too late.” His voice broke at the memory of black enveloping Castiel, pulling him away, and he shut his eyes, took a stuttering breath. He'd been so scared he'd never get to say these words aloud, so scared Castiel would never hear them.

He felt light fingers touch his hands, warm palms cup them with his own. “Dean,” Castiel said quietly and pressed his forehead against Dean’s.

“Thank you for saving me,” Dean said, steadying himself with the simple touch. “Thank you, for everything. You’ve always been there, and I love you. I love you, Castiel, and you can have me, you’ve always had me.”

Castiel nodded, then tilted his face up and they were kissing, and it was wet and messy, and Dean was pretty sure he was still crying, but he was so damn relieved, he thought it was the best kiss he’d ever had.

“I can’t believe this is happening,” he said when they broke apart. He tried to catch his breath and let out a laugh. “I didn’t think I’d ever be this happy.”

“Good things do happen, Dean,” Castiel said, smiling through his tears. He wiped at the tears on Dean’s cheek with his thumb.

Dean smiled. “Yeah, I think I’m ready to believe it now.”

Clutching Castiel’s hand, he took a deep breath and looked around the Roadhouse. “So this is it. This is Heaven.”

“It’s... beautiful here,” Castiel said. “Jack did a wonderful job. You can have anything you want now. Any life you want.”

Dean nodded slowly. “Well. I know Sam is alive and has Jack to look out for him. I have Baby. I have Bobby and Ellen and Jo.” He looked back at Castiel. “I have you. I want you. You’re all I ever wanted.”

“I’m here,” Castiel said, squeezing his hand. “You’ll always have me.”

Dean kissed him again. He’d never felt more alive, which shouldn’t make sense, but he felt hope and joy and relief thrumming through his veins, so many emotions he didn’t know what to do, he felt almost dizzy.

Pulling back suddenly, he asked, “Do you want to dance?”

Castiel started laughing. “Yes,” he said, threading his fingers through Dean’s. “Yes, I do.”

They turned slowly through the room to the music from the jukebox. Dean spun Castiel around and Castiel laughed. Pressing back up against Dean, he beamed at him. "I love you."

Dean slid his hand under Castiel's trenchcoat. "Love you more."

“Not possible," Castiel said, and Dean smiled wider. He thought he would never stop smiling. Never stop smiling for an eternity, an eternity with Castiel.

have to link to these gifs bc they make my heart happy <3

**story edited on 11/22 to replace “your mom and dad are down the road” to “charlie and kevin are down the road” bc fuck john

Tag List

@becky-srs @xojo @marvelnaturalock @cas-you-assbutt-dean-needs-you @aelysianmuse @prayedtoyou @letsjustdieeveryone @spookyskeletonsandallthezombies @good-things-do-happen-dean @misha-moose-dean-burger-lover @theninthdutchessofhell

these characters hold a special place in my heart, so I won’t stop writing about them anytime soon. Let me know (message, ask, comment) if you’d like to be tagged in my other destiel fics or removed from the list :)

#my heart hurts #but if dean had to die in the finale #at least cas couldve showed up!!#if he was indeed there as bobby hinted #just makes me sad that cas got so fucked over #anyway #fluff #forehead touch #kissing #crying #love confession #slow dancing #destiel fic #expectingtofly writes #sappy shit

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katyobsesses · 3 years

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I love how you basically picked both for each pair on that music tag :’) I’m curious and wanna know what your top 5 or 10 favorite artists are (if you can narrow it down)?💕

ahaha I loved all of them so i really couldn't choose!

My music taste is very very vast and I listen to absolutely everything, a lot of the time I vibe with one song but never listen to anything else by an artist, or i'll listen to an artists entire discography on repeat for a year and then forget about them until they pop back up in some Spotify made playlist!

but i'll do ten artists I love in no particular order;

Taylor Swift (mostly her earliest and newest stuff, I don't vibe with Red or Reputation as much as the rest (though LOVE delicate and Gorgeous)) My fave song rn is probably... Betty, Mr Perfectly Fine (Taylor's Version) (From The Vault), or You Are In Love

A Great Big World (became re-obsessed with them this year/year and a half/idk, I think I originally actually found them because of glee? I seem to remember having Rockstar on repeat for a bit after Kurt and Elliot sang it in S5, but now I listen to their entire discography on repeat a LOT. fun fact: i tried to make a jukebox musical from their entire discography in January, and it sparked a fanfiction idea for a very far of fic in my OC re-write series lol) Fave song: Won't Stop Running

Imagine Dragons (I've seen them in concert twice, I especially love their earliest stuff from when I first found them (an old friend (also a Cait!) introduced me to them, she was into the indie alternative scene and loved trawling youtube for up and coming bands), they are the only band I've seen in concert except for when I went to Glee Live in 2011 (it was actually the 10th aniversary of that a couple of days ago I think??? Or manybe last month, I can't remember if it was June or July rn)) Fave Song: It's Time (i freaked when Darren did it on glee lol) or I Need A Minute (which is from their EP and annoyingly not on Spotify)

Sleeping at Last (I found them from their Cover albums which are amazing, but also their Enneagram Album is SOOO good! their songs are all so peaceful and soft and emotional I love it) My fave song is Six, or maybe their cover of Rainbow Connection

Twin Atlantic (another one introduce to me by Cait, they're a scottish band and I can barely understand the lyrics half the time because their accents are rather strong but something about their music is so so good, I'm shit at describing it though, it's definately some sort of rock though! I like Free and Great Divide the most becuase they're the ones i heard first and they bring me so much nostalgia) Fave Song: Crash Land (It makes me think of Captain America and I can only kinda see the reason still lol)

Christina Perri (I think Lovestrong was one of the first CDs I actually bought for myself with my own money (babysitting job if I remember correctly) and I still LOVE it to this day, the nostalgia!) Fave Song: penguin

Olivia Rodrigo (her music is just... so good, so so good) Fave Song: happier

The Beatles (I don't think I have to say much about this one, they're the freaking Beatles who doesn't like them lol) Fave Song: In My Life, Yesturday, Or Here Comes The Sun

dodie (she's been in my Top Song Of X playlists on spotify for years now, I love her and have since I found her on youtube years and years ago) Fave Song: Sick of Losing Soulmates

Glee Cast <3 (including all of the cast's original stuff. I LOVE Kevin's stuff especially, and Chord's, and Amber's, and Darren's, and Noah Guthrie's...) Fave Song: As If We Never Said Goodbye

and there is so many more, I just... i listen to everything??? this isn't including Ed Sheeran or Echosmith or Corrine Bailey Rae or Fleetwood Mac or Rachel Stevens or... countless other random artists i've heard one or two songs from that i love, or artists i could recite every single one of their songs if i heard them on the radio, or bands and artists from my childhood I still jam out to on occasion, or musicals! I just really love music! I have music going basically 24/7 if i'm not watching something.

and thanks, this was really really fun 💛💛💛

#music #katy liveblogs life #kurtanaroyalty #me #taylor swift #a great big world #imagine dragons #sleeping at last #twin atlantic #christina perri #olivia rodrigo #the beatles #dodie #glee #ed sheeran #echosmith #corrine bailey rae #fleetwood mac #rachel stevens

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palmett-hoes · 4 years

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alright alright alright let’s pretend this isn’t almost a full week late. here’s my piece for the @aftgexchange for Valentine’s day. this is for @black-glasses-and-books, who asked for an Andreil diner au. This is actually the first fic I’ve ever fully completed in my life, sooooo whew. also a special thank you to @leahlisabeth for being incredibly patient with me despite having let her down no less than three different times

**warnings for blood, loss of bladder control, minor sexual assault, and major, violent retaliation for sexual assault. dub-con reminiscent of the books, and at length discussion of that dub-con**

Neon Lights at Night

An hour and a half north of Columbia - the armpit of the South - on the edge of the dying little town of Palmetto that hung onto the interstate for dear life, a 24/7 diner called the Foxhole lit up the night a hundred different shades of neon orange. It was the first (and sometimes only) attraction listed on the past three rest stop signs.

It was actually a few miles from the exit, but still bright enough to be seen from the road (though, really it could be seen from space). Luckily for Palmetto, most unfortunate suckers driving through the boonies ended up at the Foxhole, eventually trickling further into town for gas or souvenirs or a place for the night, or just to look at the rundown town with its dusty southern charm and its friendly but flinty-eyed inhabitants. None of them would come without the Foxhole shining on the hill like a will-o'-the-wisp.

The graveyard shift, though, saw very, very few of those curious people who came through during the day. In fact, it saw very, very few people at all. Maybe five or six a night if things were really hopping, but the owner - David Wymack - had made a vow that his diner would be open 24/7 for whatever poor bastards trickled in. It didn't matter if it was noon or midnight, dawn or dusk - any wayward birds would have a place to rest their wings. Usually the ones that wandered in past midnight were a mix of addicts, car campers, and down-on-their-luck folks with nowhere else to go and no money to get anything better. Sometimes a traveling worker pressing hard to get home to their family faster would show up while driving through the night to down some coffee, or parties of local teens across the whole county would hang out hours past curfew. It didn't matter who they were or why they were there or even when, the Foxhole had a seat and meal waiting for anyone that needed it.

That didn't mean it had to be well-stocked in the middle of the night. Usually a one-man staff could run the whole show no problem, and Wymack slept light and kept his phone next to his bed just in case there was one.

...

Andrew Minyard pulled into the Foxhole parking lot at 2am on a weeknight: the height of the slump. He was not an addict, homeless, a traveling businessman, or a local punk, so really he had no business being at a diner in the middle of nowhere an hour away from his house (Andrew rather notoriously sped). Except he couldn't sleep, and whenever he couldn't sleep, he came to the Foxhole.

He'd first stumbled upon the eyesore diner on an aimless midnight joyride four years ago counting mile markers in hopes that once, just once, he could sleep through the night if he numbed his brain. Like every other midnight moth to the Foxhole's neon orange flame, he'd ended up in the parking lot by happenstance and desperation, and found its doors open to him (a novelty, to someone who'd been thrown out of more homes than he could on his fingers).

He'd been the only customer that night. Just him, the grumpy old owner, the old record player, and the best pancakes he'd ever had. They hadn't spoken at all that first night. Andrew had just pointed to the menu and the owner had just nodded, and fifteen minutes later he was slowly tearing off chunks of his pancakes while the owner went about his business on the other side of the restaurant. Eventually, the carbs and lilting oldies music succeeded in making his eyelids heavy so he payed his bill and slipped out. He managed almost four uninterrrupted hours of sleep after he made it back to Columbia.

The routine took time to develop. Andrew didn't go back to the Foxhole for almost a month after that first time, and when he finally did (under the same sleepless circumstances) it proceeded much the same. In the entire first six months that he visited the diner he and the owner didn't exchange a single word. The old man would nod to him when Andrew came in and when he left, and eventually Andrew nodded back. Sometimes there were other people in the diner, usually not. Some faces showed up more than once, locals; most were strangers, interlopers like him. He'd worked his way methodically through the diner's entire menu, and never found it lacking, and told himself that was the only reason he kept coming back. Certainly not the quiet understanding in the owner's eyes that said, "You can hide from it here, whatever you're running from. I'll always be here. You can take as long as you need."

It pissed him the fuck off, actually. How dare that old bastard look at Andrew like he had any idea what sorts of monsters chased him out of bed each night to run himself ragged in order to sleep. He didn't know, and he never would. So fuck him for looking at Andrew like he ever could.

Yet week after sleepless week, Andrew slipped out of house and drove to the middle of nowhere just to sit silently in the aggressively orange diner and listen to the staticy jukebox with the hum of the hundred neon lights running underneath it.

...

Four years later and Andrew was a regular. His insomnia chased him there from his bed at least twice a week, and on Sundays he took Nicky and Aaron there for brunch. He had come to know Wymack and his very annoying son, Kevin. He knew the manager of the diner, Dan Wilds - who did not like him - and the local do-gooder, Renee Walker - who did. He knew the town regulars - and some of the not-so-regulars - that lingered at night. The Foxhole was his diner - his place.

In the last year especially, he'd been going increasingly often. Wymack should offer him a job rather than just waive his food bills for all the time he spent there. It started to feel like rather than the diner lulling him to sleep when he couldn't, he now needed it to be able to drift off in the first place. Andrew was never as relaxed as within the Foxhole's walls. It was the first place he'd ever felt truly... comfortable.

Maybe a bit too comfortable.

He hadn't been in three weeks now, and he was coiled tight as a spring, ready to snap, but with no release - just a constant pressure building and building. He had no appetite, was sleeping worse than he ever had, unable to sit still, and shaking out of his skin.

As he reached the exit ramp and got the first look at the ridiculously orange building down below, the brightest thing for miles, he went through a series of wild contradictions. His chest constricted but his shoulders relaxed. He could finally breathe, but there was no air. He almost turned around but instead tightened his hands on the steering wheel and pressed the gas peddle down further.

It took both forever and no time at all to reach the gravel parking lot. There was only one other car, a boxy old Toyota that Andrew knew well, which meant it was just him and the night shift.

He sat in the car for a long time and watched the diner from the outside. It either had a retro fifties aesthetic or had actually been around since the fifties, unchanged. It was covered in miles of orange neon tubing, dozens of signs, so many it was hard to identify any one picture. Wymack said he didn't care what it looked like, so long as people could see it. It looked like it was on fire.

Nothing moved inside. Eventually, Andrew gave up waiting for a sign, so he opened the door and got out of the car. He felt like he was walking up to his own execution, but when he stepped into the building it was the same flat, bright lights and checkerboard linoleum it had always been. As if nothing had changed; as if Andrew hadn't changed anything.

The Supremes floated through the air and someone was humming along while they clattered about in the kitchen. Andrew played dumb, pretended he didn't know who it was, that the car outside had been borrowed. But no one else ever took the graveyard shift. Even Wymack stayed home these days. So Andrew just stood there in the middle of the empty diner and pretended that someone else was about to walk out of the kitchen. Maybe Wilds - who would ignore him - or Boyd - who would try to make small talk that Andrew would ignore. Across the room, the pinball machine flashed and beeped, and Andrew stood rooted to the spot.

Feet scuffed the floor. Dan didn't come out of the kitchen. Neither did Boyd, Wymack, Gordon or anyone else. Neil did.

Of course Neil did, because Neil always worked the overnight shift. He had since he stumbled into Palmetto a year ago, scared and hurt and was immediately been swept up into the fold of Wymack and his Foxes. He didn't sleep much more than Andrew did. He liked the quiet at night. He got nervous around too many customers at once. He thought the scars that littered his face would scare people away.

No one else but Neil Josten would be working the Foxhole at 2 am on a weeknight, but god Andrew wished someone else was.

When Neil saw Andrew standing there he stopped in his tracks. He jerked like he'd been shocked and dropped the mixing bowl he'd been holding with a clang. Neil looked at Andrew with his deer-in-the-headlights eyes and slack jaw, unmoving, for what felt like forever.

Andrew didn't know what was going to happen next. He half-thought Neil would turn and run, like Andrew had three weeks ago, and half-thought Neil would yell and scream and rage at him, like he should have done three weeks ago. Instead, he just stood there and stared and stared at Andrew in silence.

The song on the jukebox changed, Nina Simone now.

Finally, Neil spoke, but all he said was, "You're back," at a whisper, like he was genuinely shocked. And of course he was. If it had been Neil that had run three weeks ago, he'd be halfway across the world by now. New name, new story, new everything. But Andrew wasn't the type to cut and run from his problems (or so he thought).

Neil tried again. "Andrew," he said with a voice so strained it hurt to hear. He wanted to talk about it, and of course he did, but Andrew - the weak fool that he was - couldn't.

What did he think would happen? That he would wander back in after tearing everything between them to shreds and Neil would act as if nothing had happened? That they would play pinball and split a milkshake and everything would be fine?

(Maybe he hadn't believed it would happen, but he'd wanted it to).

"Don't," he grumbled, hoarse; he would hold this off as long as he could. When Neil looked like he was about to argue, Andrew said it again, louder, more forceful. "Don't." And Neil backed down. Because of course he did. Because Neil listened to whatever Andrew said. Because Neil didn't trample all over the lines drawn in the sand between them.

They looked at each other for a long time. Dark bags hung under Neil's eyes and his skin clung too close to his face. Andrew knew he didn't look much better.

But Neil still looked good, in that wild, unreal way of his. He wore the god-awful orange pinstripe uniform that Wymack didn't actually make his employees wear but that Neil liked anyway and that Andrew imagined peeling off of him. His hair floated around his face where it escaped the tie holding it back. Andrew missed when he could play innocent about dragging it back behind Neil's ear. He couldn't do that anymore.

Pink and red hearts literred Neil's cheekbones, and belatedly Andrew remembered that it was Valentine's day, or maybe close? He didn't know, actually. He'd stopped keeping track of time in any way except "Five days since he ran away from Neil," "Two weeks since he ruined everything with Neil." Wilds or Boyd or someone was always putting stickers on Neil's face, over the scars he was so self-conscious about. They said it was because he was such a 'good noodle,' which was disgustingly stupid, but Neil never took them off. They made him smile. Andrew preferred stars or flowers or anything else. The hearts made Neil look too romantic, and that wasn't fair.

Eventually, Neil turned slightly and gestured back into the kitchen. "The stove is broken again," he murmered. "Wymack thought he was going to have to get a real repairman in soon, if you didn't-" he stumbled, ducked his head and broke eye contact, "If you didn't come back." He trailed off, then added, "Soon," softly, like an afterthought. Neil and his stupid, reckless faith.

Andrew couldn't say anything back to that. So instead he silently made his way around the counter and back into the kitchen, making sure to give Neil a wide berth even while he felt Neil's eyes on him the whole way.

The number two reason Wymack treated Andrew so well were his technical skills (the number one was Wymack's indulgent heart). Since he was a child he'd devoted considerable time and effort into being self-sufficient. That plus his memory and naturally nosy nature lead him to become a more than adept handyman. Plenty of his skills came from unsavory roots, but his history of theft, b&e's, and car jackings ended up expanding into more official skills during his stint in juvie and then his high school's tech ed department.

Wymack owned two ancient grill-top stoves that were always breaking down but that he refused to replace. He claimed they were like castiron, that he'd cultivated a seasoning on them and he would be damned if he got rid of it. The food just wouldn't taste the same. The first real conversation he and Andrew ever had happened with Andrew's waist deep in the things' guts. From there, Andrew had become the diner's unofficial mechanic, paid under the table in food. It was a good deal, and he'd weaseled plenty of good quality tools out of it too. After four years, there was hardly anything left in the Foxhole that he hadn't patched up, trouble-shot, installed, or rebuilt. (If he spent his down time watching tech specialist YouTube videos, no one had to know).

Wriggling under the stove with the toolkit Wymack left him was familiar. The terrible strained silence of Neil standing at his feet but not saying anything was not. The dead air hung heavy between them as Andrew worked, just the clank and squeal of metal on metal against the omnipresent background hum of the neon lights. Usually Neil would talk, would chatter about stupid useless things he'd seen or heard or thought that he was convinced Andrew would find interesting while Andrew played at irritation. Neil had a soothing voice, it almost didn't matter what he said, except that he was also very good at saying things that got a rise out of Andrew. The hollow silence echoed off the wall dropped between them.

He missed the sound of Neil's voice. He missed the dumb things Neil talked about. He missed hearing about Neil's stupid, batshit life. He missed Neil's fidgety body language and careful hands and his ringing laugh and pensive eyes and wicked smile. He missed Neil.

'Well too fucking bad, idiot," he thought to himself,"You can't have him back.'

Wrapped up in his self-pity, Andrew lost his concentration and when he yanked too hard on the stuck pipe obstructing the fuel line it came out full force faster than he expected. The side of his hand glanced off a sharp metal edge, tearing through his skin with a jagged burst of pain. He gritted his teeth and sucked in a gasp, dropping his wrench and curling his hand to his chest.

At his feet, Neil jumped in alarm, exclaiming, "Andrew! What happened? Are you okay?"

Examining his hand, Andrew found a gash along the thick side of his palm that was long but not as deep as he'd expected. Checking that he could still form a fist, and then deeming the injury superficial, he grunted back, "Nothing," at Neil, grabbed his wrench and went back to work. Blood dripped down his wrist and he would need to wash his armbands and shirt when he got home, but he was almost finished anyway. He could wait five minutes to get a bandaid. The pain righted his head, drove out all his pointless angst and grounded him in the moment. Maybe he deserved it.

Sliding out of the stove, he found Neil hovering uncomfortably close. Once he stood up Neil leaned in even closer, brows furrowed and mouth pinched down. He was too close, Andrew would have stepped back but he had nowhere to go, so instead he angled his head away at the other side of the room and refused to look at Neil.

"It should work now," he grumbled, and prepared to push past Neil to get some space.

But Neil, idiot that he was, didn't even acknowledge what he said. "You're bleeding," he said instead, reaching down for Andrew's hand. He didn't touch, just hovered his fingers near Andrew's wrist and watched his face for a sign.

And Neil's devotion to respecting Andrew's bodily autonomy was far more painful than his hand.

Andrew jerked his arm out of the way and shoved past Neil. "It's nothing," he growled.

Except Neil had also never tolerated Andrew's bullshit, either. He whipped around to get in Andrew's way, putting his hands up to hover in front of Andrew's shoulders, stopping him in his tracks. They were nose to nose. "Let me see," Neil demanded." Then his voice softened, worry and concern and all the things he shouldn't feel for Andrew - not ever, definitely not anymore - as he hovered his hands at Andrew's wrist again, "You're hurt."

"It's nothing," Andrew repeated, but he let Neil take his hand and raise it up to his face to examine the damage.

Andrew watched Neil's face as he looked. His hand was drenched in blood, but hand wounds bled. It wasn't worth getting worked up over. But Neil's brow knit together and he looked so goddamned concerned as he assessed the ragged wound.

He was so close. Their toes touched. Andrew could count his stickers and freckles and goddamn eyelashes. The last time they'd been so close...

And all at once it was too much. It all came back in the awful, hyper-vivid detail that Andrew's perfect memory rendered all his worst memories in.

...

He remembered the obnoxious customer that wouldn't stop hitting on Neil, some asshole on a business trip who thought his expensive suit meant he could do whatever he wanted to the poor country bumpkins in a diner in the middle of nowhere. He'd been slimy, lewd, and obviously thought he was very suave. He'd kept sliding his paws all over Neil every chance he could, over the backs of his hands and up his arms. No matter how much Neil had shaken him off, he'd kept grabbing and leering and whispering filth about what he could do, what he could offer, as if Andrew couldn't hear him. But Neil had warned him off already, and Neil was a big boy who could fight his own battles, he could handle himself once this sleezebbag finally stepped over the final line. Andrew didn't own him.

It hadn't stopped him from grinding his jaw and clenching his fists where he'd leaned against the counter, stroking the knives in his armbands and never taking his eyes off the two. It was when the bastard leaned up and whispered something in Neil's ear that made his eyes blaze and he had turned his back to storm away, and the sack of shit slapped his ass with a laugh that Andrew had finally snapped.

Neil had whipped around like a hurricane to tear the guy a new one but Andrew had been across the room like lightning. He'd snapped the perve's head back with a fist, felt his nose crack underneath it. Grabbing the guy's hand, he'd squeezed and twisted until something snapped. Then he'd pressed a knife against the pig's throat and held it there, cutting a thin red line against his nice white skin. He'd been screaming and crying and blubbering, getting blood and tears and snot all over his nice expensive suit, but Andrew had been unmoved. He'd been going to look piggy in the eye when he cut open his jugular.

Only Neil's hand waving placidly in his face had distracted him. Without letting go of his grip, Andrew had turned his head to look at Neil hovering to his side. Boredly, he'd drawled, "Let him go, Andrew. He's not worth the investigation."

Piggy had sobbed even louder, so Andrew'd pressed his knife a little more into his throat to shut him up, but hadn't taken his eys off Neil's. "He touched you," he'd snarled, voice deadly and precise.

Neil'd rolled his eyes, "And I was going to deal with it. You're not my fucking boyfriend, Andrew. Let go."

For a second Andrew had held perfectly still, then all at once dropped the blubbering coward like he was diseased. He'd fallen forward sobbing and gasping as Andrew and Neil had regarded him dispassionately.

Neil had leaned down until they were level, and grinned, "Well I'd say you've learned a lesson here about not touching people without their consent. Be grateful you get to walk away. Now," his voice had become razor sharp, "Get the fuck out of my diner."

When piggy hadn't responded right away and just continued crying on the table, smearing blood and snot everywhere, Andrew had grabbed him by the hair and dragged him - tripping and tumbling and clutching his broken hand - across the restaurant, throwing him bodily out the door.

Turning his back, Andrew's eyes had latched automatically onto Neil, checking for any hurts he might be hiding. He'd seemed unruffled, body loose and expression untroubled except for the overexaggerated scrunch of his nose where he regarded the booth where the son of a bitch had been sitting.

He'd looked at Andrew and whined, "He pissed himself, Andrew, that's so gross." When Andrew'd pulled up beside him and just shrugged, Neil had pursed his lips in a fake-annoyed scowl. "You know I need to clean that up," he'd complained, "I should make you do it, it's your mess." He hadn't, though. Neil had went to get the bleach and cleaning supplies, muttering under his breath just loud enough to make sure Andrew heard, "blood and piss, great, awesome. Dumb pervert has to go and make my night even worse, can't even face down a knife, what a -" until the sound of his voice had faded away.

Left alone, Andrew had taken stock of himself, feeling the tension still pulling his muscles. He had felt supercharged, out of control. Seeing someone lay hands on Neil like that had snapped something in him and he hadn't known how to handle it. He'd been on a knife's edge when he'd attacked, ready to tear the scumbag's throat out, and he'd still been on that knife's edge ten minutes later, while Neil had mopped, scrubbed, and bleached down the whole area, complaining theatrically the entire time. Andrew hadn't heard any of it, he'd stood stock still staring at his knife, tipping a drop of blood back and forth methodically across the blade. Looking at Neil had felt too dangerous.

He hadn't noticed the room had gone silent for a long time. Eventually, he'd looked up from his knife at Neil hovering in front of him, hair pulled back and latex gloves on, still holding the mop. "Hey," he'd murmured, to get Andrew's attention, and Andrew had searched his face and found nothing dark lingering there. "You didn't have to do that. I was about to give that creep hell, and I could've handled myself fine, but," he'd smiled a little, just a little quirk at the edge of his lips, and his voice had gotten too earnest, his eyes too soft, "Thanks, anyway."

Then he'd snatched the bloody knife out of Andrew's hand with a, "Now gimme that," and disappeared again.

Everything had gone blurry, Neil and his little smiles and his blue eyes and his sass and the snowflake stickers on his cheeks and the timbre of his voice had echoed all around Andrew, through him. So goddamn loud, until there hadn't been anything else.

Then Neil was back, all cleaned up, moving in high definition through an indistinct world, saying, "Maybe you should be my boyfriend." Then he'd laughed, like it'd been funny. He'd handed Andrew his knife back, cleaned, and Andrew hadn't even felf it in his hand, had just felt the elctric spark of Neil's fingers against his own. "Anyone tries to hit on me again, I can just go, 'Nah, that's my boyfriend over there, he's super protective' or 'Sorry, can't. I've got boyfriend. Yea it's really serious.'" Everything had started spinning, but Neil had just kept talking. "Oh! Dan and Matt and Alli are always tring to talk me into blind dates or whatever. If I tell them you're my boyfriend they'll finally stop! They'll also have a conniption. It's perfect-"

Something must have clued him in that something was wrong, maybe the look on Andrew's face, because he'd cut himself off abruptly. Then, hesitantly, he'd asked, "Andrew? Are you okay? What's wrong?"

Then he'd been back in front of Andrew again, with his eyes and his hair and his scars and his freckles and his stickers and and and

"I'm just joking, alright?"

And Andrew had snapped.

He'd surged forward, wrapping one hand around the back of Neil's head and the other around his waist and dragged him in, crashing their mouths together in a paniced, frantic, broken-hearted kiss that would linger on Andrew's mouth until the day he died. He'd kissed Neil with all his wild, nameless emotions that he couldn't reign in anymore. He'd kissed Neil for all his smiles and his laughter and quiet understanding. He'd kissed Neil for all the times he'd thought about him as he fell asleep and then again when he woke up. He'd kissed Neil like he'd always, always wanted to.

And Neil hadn't kissed him back.

Neil hadn't kissed him back but hadn't... not kissed him back, hadn't pulled away, hadn't slapped him or yelled or run. Had gone completely still and soft in Andrew's arms, had let Andrew pull him so close and kiss him desperatly until he couldn't breathe anymore, trying to let him know "this is what you do to me; this is what I could do to you."

Then Andrew had pulled back with a jerk and a gasp and looked at what he'd done with the shock of a man who'd just pushed the button on the atomic bomb.

Neil's eyelashes had fluttered against his cheeks and his lips been parted, but when he'd opened his eyes they'd been nothing but dazed and confused.

"Andrew," Neil'd tried, shaky and lost, "Andrew, what..." Andrew'd felt the bomb go off.

"Why did you..." He'd seen the mushroom cloud; he'd still had a hand on Neil's waist.

"I don't..." No survivors.

So Andrew had thrown him backwards, had removed his hands from Neil like he burned to the touch (and he did, the feel of him was burned permanently into Andrew's skin), and run. He'd heard Neil call out "Wait!" behind him, but he'd already been gone. Out the door, in his car, and hitting the road as fast as his spedometer would allow, the trees and the signs and the asphalt blurring together into one bleak, gray blur as he'd smashed the speed limit to smithereens to get away from the worst, stupidest thing he'd ever done.

He'd kissed Neil without asking. Neil, who wasn't interested, who was all but repelled by sex and relationships, who would rather lie to his friends about a fake boyfriend than have them ask him about his dating life again. He'd kissed Neil without asking right after breaking a man's hand and nose for touching him. He'd torn everything between him and Neil to shreds, lit it on fire, and pissed in the ashes. He'd destroyed everything.

When'd he'd gotten back to the house in Columbia the sun had been just cresting the horizon, orange. He'd crawled into bed, numb, and pulled his sheets over his head. He'd wished he could fall asleep so he could never wake up.

...

He shouldn't have come back to the Foxhole. He should have cut his losses and let Neil go, let him recover and move on and hopefully never have to think about Andrew again.

But he was weak, so weak, and he'd come crawling back. And there Neil was, like a dream, covered in hearts, looking at Andrew like he cared he'd been gone, like he'd wanted him to come back, taking his hand, cleaning his wound.

It was all too much.

They sat across from each other at a booth with the first aid kit between them, Andrew's injured hand in both of Neil's as he cleaned off the blood, applied antibiotic, and wrapped it in a bandage. Frank Sinatra drifted over from the jukebox, low and sad.

Even once he'd finished, Neil didn't let go of Andrew's hand. He held it gently in both of his and ducked his head, avoiding Andrew's eyes. Then, he said, "I want to talk about it," low and solemn.

Andrew's shoulders tensed up immediately and he tried to jerk his hand back, but Neil didn't let go. He held on tight and turned his blue eyes on Andrew, blazing. "No," he hissed, "you don't get to run away again. You owe me an explanation at least."

Andrew stared at him, rocks in his throat. All he managed to ground out was, "I shouldn't have done it."

Neil looked sad at that, lost and confused. "Then why did you?"

Why had he? Because he was crazy? Because he was stupid? Because he was self-destructive? Because he dreamed about holding Neil's hand and running his fingers through his hair? Because it hurt too much to hear Neil laugh at the idea of them being together?

In the end, though, all he said was, "I couldn't stop myself."

Neil ran his fingers along Andrew's pensively. "So you wanted to-" he stuttered, "You want to- Kiss me, and all that stuff. You like me, like that."

Andrew was far too deep for denial anymore. He'd already dug his grave, time to lay in it. "Yes."

"You never said anything."

Andrew paused, took a long breath in and let it out slowly. Of course he'd never said anything. Just being in Neil's presence was enough - should have been enough - confessing would only have driven a rift of expectation between them. "There was no point," he said finally, "You don't see people like that."

"How do you know?" Neil snapped, and for a moment the whole world froze. But then it broke again just as fast. Andrew knew better than to get his hopes up. Why Neil was toying with him like this he didn't know. Maybe it was revenge.

"You said, Neil," Andrew reminded him, "Over and over. You don't feel that way about people."

Neil curled forward, tucking his chin to examine their hands, his fingers playingnervously over Andrew's. "What if I was wrong?" he asked, "What if I can feel that way?" He leaned his head back to look in Andrew's face beseechingly, "What if I do?"

If this was revenge, it was the coldest, cruelest kind. Andrew would rather Neil hit him, screamed at him, cursed his name and thrown him out than play these games with him.

And if he meant it? That was even worse. If the only way Neil could conceptualize a friend violating him like Andrew had was by tricking himself into thinking he felt something back, that was worse than any physical pain.

He extracted his hand from Neil's, lay Neil's hands down flat on the table and drew his own back into his lap. "I kissed you," he began, "And it was wrong. I didn't ask, I just took it from you." He spoke as callously and apathetically as he could, so his voice wouldn't shake, wouldn't betray him, "Don't try to justify it. Don't delude yourself out of some misplaced sense of obligation."

In an instant, Neil's face flared with fury. He slammed his hands on the table hard enough to shake it. "Don’t tell me how I feel!" he shouted.

Then the anger melted away as fast as it appeared, replaced with something nascent and vulnerable. He curled his hands together shakily. "I don't know what I feel," he whispered, "I don't know anything," Then he curled his hands into fists, and his voice became resolute, "But neither do you. All I know is I want to try again."

That was it, that went over the line Andrew had already pushed and pushed to the breaking point. He couldn't handle this anymore. He roared, rose out of his seat, "I fucking assaulted you, Neil!"

But Neil flashed right back, "You surprised me!" They met in the middle, raging, and both backed down. Neil slid his hands palms down across the table, entreating, never breaking eye contact. "I was shocked... and confused," he began, "But you didn't hurt me." Andrew recoiled, very slightly, even though he wanted to reach out for the hand Neil offered. "Whatever you think you did," he breathed," You're wrong. Whatever mistake you think you made, I forgive you." It tasted like absolution, too good to be true, and Andrew felt his body collapse in on itself in relief. He could breathe again, the vice on his chest released.

And Neil just kept talking. He nudged Andrew's fingers with his own, sliding underneath to take his hand. "I can't stop thinking about it, Andrew," he whispered, "About you." Slowly, he rose from his seat and swung around the table, leaning closer and closer. "When you left, I-" he faltered, face darkening, "And when you didn't come back..." he bit his lip, eye clouded. Then with a shake he continued, even more insistent than before. "That hurt, more than anything else. I was..." he was so close, speaking so softly, "Scared, that I'd never see you again." They were toe to toe, Andrew tilting his head back to look at Neil standing above him. He couldn't move. Neil cupped his hand between them. "I don't know what will come from it," he admitted, "But I have to try, okay?" He raised Andrew's hand up to his face, "I have to know," pressed it against his cheek, "So ask me."

Andrew was frozen, choking on his heart in his throat. He couldn't respond, couldn't move, could only stare wide eyed up at Neil.

Neil took a halfstep back and brought Andrew with him, tugging him to his feet until they were nose-to-nose, eye-to-eye. He hovered a hand next to Andrew's face, not touching, not yet. When he spoke, Andrew felt the breath on his lips, "Andrew, kiss me again."

He leaned into Neil's hand, felt it brush agaist his skin in a rush. He brought his other hand, dangling at his side, up and wrapped it around Neil waist, pulling him in until their lips were the only parts of them not touching. "I'm going to kiss you," he breathed, "Yes or no?"

"Yes," Neil said, eyes already falling closed, already leaning in the last inch.

So Andrew kissed him, and Neil kissed back.

#@aftgexchange #@black-glasses-and-books #aftg #andreil #fic #diner au #my posts

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icecream-and-gadreel · 4 years

Text

Stage Fright

Summary: After finals are over, Kevin insists on dragging you to a karaoke bar (though socializing is the last thing you want to do). When a guy from your college freezes on stage, you go to the rescue.

Pairing: SamXreader,

Other Characters: Kevin, Charlie (mentioned)

Rating: If the warnings don’t turn you away, you’re good!

Warnings: language, drinking, kissing

Word count: 1800+

A/N: This is from the archives! Thank you @lipstickandwhiskey for recovering this for me! Also, everyone needs some slightly aggressive reader, amiright?

Eternity squad: @sheinthatfandom @lipstickandwhiskey @feelmyroarrrr @bcarolinablr @mrswhozeewhatsis

You groan as Kevin leads you into the karaoke bar. He gabs on about you needing to relax, though being in a crowded bar did the opposite for you. Finals were over and everyone felt dead – both mentally and psychically – so the only thing on your mind was going to sleep.

“Come on, I barely get to do anything!” Kevin whines, looking back at you with a pout. You resist the urge to mention that it’s his fault for piling so much on his plate, offering him a tight-lipped smile instead. As he leads you to a table in the back of the bar, you recognize a few faces. Apparently, this is the place to be after cramming five weeks of information into one night.

“Just one song,” you grumble. You could almost feel the bed underneath you. It wasn’t luxurious, but it was much better than standing. Gripping your arm, Kevin leans to your ear.

“I know you don’t do the whole friendship thing --" he glances at his group of friends sitting at the table -- "But can you try?” he whispers before sitting down with the others. You recognized Charlie but that was about it. You wave over the bartender, asking for a shot of whiskey and immediately drawing out your ID. He squints at it, flipping it around and drawing it closer to his face. When he raises the ID to compare it to your face, you boil over.

“Yeah I decided to fake my way into a fu-” Kevin covers your mouth before you can continue, covering the moment with awkward laughter. The bartender passes it back to you with squinted eyes, muttering under his breath.

“No, seriously,” a voice booms from behind you, making you turn your attention to the source. The first thing that sticks out is his dimpled cheeks. His hazel eyes shine brightly in the dimly lit room and his smile melts you. You haven’t seen him around campus, then again you haven’t seen many of the other students. He pulls his hair into a bun with a laugh. God, this is the first time you've wished you were in on the joke. People begin chanting your school's song, and you sink in your seat as every student joins in. When the man with the bun joins in, you lose a bit of respect for him.

“You can do that but you can’t get on stage?” a girl laughs and nudges him, making his smile fade.

“I said no.” He forces out a laugh, downing the brown liquor in his cup.

“Y/N?” Kevin calls, waving his hand in your face. You snap your head away from the piece of eye candy and raise your eyebrows. “You wanna go up with me or..?”

“Whatever,” you say, downing the shot in front of you and calling the bartender once more. The people at the table next to you all stand, softly whispering someone's name. After a few moments, their rhythmic chanting grows louder.

“Sammy..Sammy….Sammy…” Pretty soon the whole bar is chanting. Most of the people don’t know what’s going on, but they join in none the less. The group makes their way to the stage and poking out above all of them is the mystery man's head, his bun bouncing as they push him. They leave him on the stage, cheering when he picks up the microphone. The room goes silent as the sea of eyes train on him. He doesn’t move nor does he say a word. He just stares back at everyone with the color draining from his skin. After a solid minute passes, the ‘boos’ begin. He was dying up there. You toss back your third shot before standing up and heading toward the stage. You grab the mic from his hand, leaning in close to him.

“Name?” you whisper. He chuckles, leaning his head to you as well.

“You didn’t hear? I’m Sam,” he says. You look over to the person controlling the jukebox, nodding your head at him. He furrows his brow, raising his arms in confusion.

“Turn on a song you prick!” you snap, gaining a middle finger from him. He turns on a song, pausing to flip you off once more. You recognize the lyrics instantly thanks to your mother's musical taste.

I cried a tear, you wiped it dry

I was confused, you cleared my mind

You sing with your eyes closed tight, trying to keep your voice from cracking too often. Sam leans down and sings with you, his deep voice sounding much better than yours.

“I sold my soul, you bought it back for me,” he leans away, allowing you to step in.

“And held me up and gave me dignity!” You chuckle over the lyrics, swaying from side to side to the melody. You couldn’t care less about 'awws’ you received. Singing with him actually brought a bit of brightness into the night. After the song ends you drop the mic and make your way off to the side, heading straight for the rude jukebox operator.

“Hey, asshole-”

“Thank you,” Sam interrupts you with a pat on your shoulder. You hold your finger up to jukebox guy and whirl around to him. He scratches his scruff, eyes hooded and a toothy grin on his face. “I have stage fright so..”

“No kidding, those guys aren’t your friends,” you say, glaring behind him at the group of people. He glances to them with a chuckle.

“No, I guess not.” Sam pauses, clenching his jaw and shoving his hands into his pockets. “You wanna get out of here?”

“Please?” you nod and grab his hand in yours. “I’m taking Sammy home.” you grin at Kevin as you pass, giving him a thumbs up. He frowns and shakes his head with his mouth gaping.

“Wait he’s –”

“Bye Kev!” you squeal, snatching the shot from in front of him and downing it. Sam follows behind you, pausing in front of Kevin’s table and smiling softly.

“How’d finals go?” he asks. Kevin sighs, slumping his head onto his fist.

“I barely made it,” he grumbles. You roll your eyes at Sam and tap your foot. What kind of college kid asks about tests? You would regret your decision if he wasn’t so cute. After exchanging more small talk with Kevin, he finally follows you out of the bar.

………….

“How old are you again?” he chuckles, watching you sink into the swing.

"You’re never too old to swing.” You begin pumping your legs slowly, waiting for him to sit next to you. Reluctantly, he makes his way to the swing and begins swinging lightly.

“What are you in for?” Sam asks, leaning his head against the chain.

“Generals, can't make up my mind yet, you?” You flick your eyes to him and take in a breath. He’s staring up at the moon, a faint smile on his face and a twinkle in his eyes. Something akin to wonder is molded in his gaze.

“Linguistics.”

“My best friend does that crap,” you chuckle, your mind wandering to Kevin. He was probably hugging the stage and singing – slurring – a Journey song.

“Kevin?” he asks. You nod, kicking the sand and letting your eyes fold closed. “He’s a nice guy,”

“Sadly he decided to latch onto me,” you say, a smile creeping across your lips.

“I don’t think it’s sad, you’re a sweet girl,” he says. Your eyes dart open and you kick him, a growl escaping your lips. He retracts his leg with a hearty laugh, holding his arm out in defense as you swing at him. “It was a compliment!”

“It was a bald-faced lie!” you try to hold it in but a giggle escapes you. You're giggling with a stranger. This is new.

“How? You saved me!”

“I...” you pause as his words sink in. “Fine. I’m sweet. Don’t let anyone know.” You point at him threateningly before leaping from the swing and heading towards the slides. Sam follows after you, laughing loudly at your antics.

“Wait for me at the end,” you command, climbing the ladder and staring back at him. He rolls his eyes with a nod. You climb in, glancing nervously as the slide creaks under your weight. This is fine. It's designed for kids under forty pounds, but this is fine. You slide down the freezing surface, smiling when you see Sam staring up at you. When you meet him, he rests his hands on either side of the slide. Butterflies collect in your stomach as you stare into his eyes, your heart pounding in your chest. He leans down, pressing a soft kiss against your lips with a puff of air.

“I hope that’s why I was waiting here,” he whispers against your lips.

“It is now,” you giggle – god he was making you do that too often – and hook your hand behind his neck. You press a second gentle kiss against his lips, enjoying the heat radiating off of him.

–

“You what?” Kevin squeaks, halting and whipping his head to you.

“I know I know, I said I’d never date in college but-”

“You kissed SAMMY?” he asks in a high pitched voice, willing his legs to go forward.

“What, does he have a girlfriend?” You furrow your brow, running over the conversations you had with him yesterday. He never mentioned it.

“No, but – is this why you’re walking me to class?”

“Well, yeah."

“Y-you said you wanted to bond with me more!”

“Two birds, Kev.” You shrug and dart into the classroom, searching for Sam. When your eyes land on him your jaw hits the ground. “Oh my god.”

“Hi.” He rises from his desk and makes his way to you and Kevin. He doesn’t have his hair in a bun anymore and now has on a suit. ’Professor Sam “Sammy” Winchester’ is strewn across the board in sloppy handwriting.

“You..you’re a..” you stammer over your words, glancing from him to the students.

“Thanks for walking me home, I was pretty tipsy.” He puts on an awkward smile, letting his eyes fall on Kevin.

“I know all about your --” Kevin raises his hands --“walk.” He quotes over his words with squinted eyes. Sam clenches his jaw, his eyes wide and trained on you.

“You told him?!” he asks through clenched teeth.

“I didn’t know!” you retort in a small voice. The three of you fall into an awkward silence. Finally, Sam lets out a hearty laugh, brushing his fingers through his hair.

"I mean, I did have fun last night," he says, ignoring the glares from Kevin. "Karaoke tonight?"

Though you try -- and god do you try -- you can't help the smile on your face. "It's a date."

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cpd5021 · 4 years

Text

What’s Life Without a Little Risk? (7)

Ahem.... Payback’s a...well, you’ll see. ;)

After the incident in the bullpen with Platt, I had held true to my threat of never taking that chance at work again. It had been a few weeks, not for lack of trying on Jay’s part, since we had even kissed at work. Despite my best efforts to stick to a ‘keeping it professional’ mentality at work, Jay still managed to get his comments in any time an opportunity arose. If he couldn’t slip seductions into my ear, he was sending them to my phone and it was killing me slowly. A few times he had almost been busted, once when Kim was leaning over my desk looking at my computer, glancing down out of habit when my screen lit up with a new message. Thankfully I had snatched it away before she could see it but calming my racing heart had been another task entirely. Another time, Kevin had walked into the break room, surprisingly silent despite his large build, when Jay was explaining exactly what we were going to do when we got home. I told myself that Jay had been talking low enough, surely Kevin hadn’t heard every detail, but the look on his face told me otherwise.

Now we sat in Jay’s truck, doing some surveillance on a house in Pilsen. I was on the phone with Kim discussing our next move when I felt Jay’s hand come to rest on my thigh. I shot him a look, swatting his hand away and continuing my discussion with Kim. I should have known he wouldn’t give up that easily, as the next thing I knew his fingers were creeping up my leg, coming to a rest at the seam of my jeans, pressing between my legs. I clenched my jaw, refusing to give him the satisfaction of looking at him and listened to Kim ramble on. My breath hitched in my throat when he increased the pressure, his hand pushing right up against the bundle of nerves that was already throbbing with his actions, the barrier of my jeans and underwear the only deterrent for me losing it right then and there. Kim asked a question, or rather repeated her question when I didn’t respond the first time. It was becoming harder to focus on our conversation when Jay was now tugging down my zipper, having already popped my button loose. I registered Kim telling me she needed to put me on hold for a second and took the opportunity to address Jay.

“You’re dead!” I threatened through gritted teeth, voice jumping a few octaves when his skillful fingers sunk into my heat.

“What is she doing?” Jay smirked, nodding towards the phone gripped in my hands.

“Pulling a traffic report.” I all but panted when his finger entered me slowly, the added pressure of my jeans still being on driving me wild.

“That should take a few minutes.” He nodded to himself before sending me a devilish grin. “But this won’t.” He winked and picked up the pace. It took everything in me not to buck my hips like a mad woman as a second finger pumped into me, his thumb rubbing circles on my clit. I bit my lip, fighting to keep my breathing under control and my face neutral as we were parked on a fairly busy street in broad daylight. I knew that any minute now Kim would be back on the line and it wouldn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out what was happening on the other end of the line. But I also knew that Jay was right and that this was going to take no time at all. Between his constant barrage of risky comments and texts, coupled with his skillful hands working magic, I was already close to falling apart. Jay, knowing he needed to finish this sooner rather than later, leaned closer to me and I moaned when his hot breath hit my neck, sending a shiver down my spine, before his teeth grazed the spot just below my ear lobe. A few more pumps from his fingers and some added pressure from his thumb and my walls tightened around him as my orgasm crashed through me. One hand gripping the door handle, while my other still clenched the phone, I struggled to contain the cry’s of pleasure from falling from my lips. I trembled slightly as I came back down, hips bucking once more as his wet fingers brushed my throbbing bundle of nerves as he pulled his hand back out of my pants. I watched as he slid one finger into his mouth, tasting my arousal. His eyes were pitch black with lust and his movements were slow and purposeful. My breathing was ragged and my entire body tingled from his work. I jumped when I heard Kim come back on the line. She read me the report in full detail and I was thankful for the few extra seconds to even my breathing. Kim asked me to confirm some detail and I managed to respond without giving myself away. My heart was still pounding and I felt completely winded but if she noticed, she didn’t say anything. I was able to speak in semi complete sentences and was almost done wrapping up our conversation when suddenly I felt Jay’s wet finger trail across my lower lip. I could smell myself on him and, when my tongue darted out as a reflex, I could taste myself. This man, I swear. Finally I hung up with Kim and instantly my eyes bore a glare into the side of his head.

“Jay! What the hell?” I exclaimed. “What if she had got back on sooner?”

“But she didn’t.” He shrugged, looking smug because he knew he was right. I slumped back in my seat as he started the truck and were pulled out of our spot, finally able to head back to the precinct.

“You’re gonna pay for that one.” I threatened after a moment, scoffing when I heard him chuckle in response.

“I’d like to see you try.” He smirked at me. Challenge accepted Halstead, challenge accepted.

********

I was a woman who stuck to my word, he should have learned this by now. And after his antics this morning in the truck, I had spent the rest of the day figuring out the best way to repay his actions. So when the entire unit agreed to meet at Molly’s after work, Voight included, I knew this way my chance. Jay and I sat next to each other on one side of the table while Kevin and Adam sat across from us. Vanessa was up at the bar, flirting with the new bar tender and Kim was talking to someone from her patrol days. I looked over towards the two men facing us and decided that doing something to him in front of them wasn’t good enough, not after all the times he had gotten me busted by Platt. No sir, I wanted something better. I glanced around the bar, smiling when I saw Voight approach our table. Go big or go home, right? As Voight stepped closer, leaning in to hear over the music blaring from the jukebox, I made my first move. My hand went to rest on his thigh, although thigh was a bit of a stretch. It was definitely more of his crotch region. Without hesitation, I gave him a squeeze through his jeans, causing his knee to jerk in surprise, slamming so hard into the table above him that my drink splashed out of the cup. I bit my cheek to keep the smile from forming on my face.

“Woah, you alright brother?” Adam asked, looking genuinely concerned.

“Yeah, leg cramped up.” Jay’s voice hitched slightly as my hand was still firmly in place over his rapidly hardening member. Something was definitely ‘up’ but it wasn’t his leg. I watched as he risked a glance down to me, I was unsure if his look was a plea or a threat, but either way it wasn’t going to stop me. I gave him another squeeze and heard his breath hitch in his throat. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table and I was the only one who noticed his white knuckled fists. I continued to rub him through his jeans, feeling him twitch underneath my hand. He’s lucky this bar wasn’t that dark or this would have been so much worse for him. When I had him right where I wanted him, I removed my hand and excused myself to the bar, tossing him my jacket before I left, knowing he was going to need something to cover himself. I reached for my phone and typed out a quick message.

I believe your words were ‘I’d like to see you try’.... ;)

Not cool. Came his almost instant reply.

Not done. I sent back, turning to meet his glare from across the bar. I nodded towards the front door and started to walk that way, not before watching him stand and use my jacket as a much needed shield to hide his predicament.

Outside the cool Chicago air gave me a moment to continue my plan of attack. I walked around the side of the building, lingering just long enough that he could see where I was going, before dipping down the dead end alley behind Molly’s. My heart raced as I heard his footsteps racing towards me. I leaned against the cool brick wall and watched as he approached. Instantly his hands were planted on the wall behind me, framing me in as his head dipped down to give me a hearty kiss. I allowed him to think he was in control for a minute, but when his hand went down to the front of my jeans I stopped him, breaking our kiss and gently pushing him to step back. I smirked up at his confused face before spinning us around so now he was up against the wall. I used our height difference to my advantage, immediately assaulting his neck with kisses and nips as my hands made quick work of his belt and zipper.

“Hailey...” He moaned my name, both in pleasure and protest.

“Shush.” I retorted, my hand sliding down his undone pants and gripping my warm hand around his hardened member. I tugged the front of his boxers down enough that I could free him, chuckling as he began to protest when I dropped down to my knees. He didn’t get another chance to speak before I drew him into my mouth, sliding him all the way back and then swallowing in a move that had him bucking forward. I pushed one hand against his him, holding him in place and my other went to his base, working his whole length as my tongue swirled his tip. He moaned again as I drew him back into my mouth, tongue pressing all the way down his shaft. My hands slid lower in a move I knew would drive him wild and I was rewarded with the sound of him moaning my name again. His hand came to gently grip my hair as I continued to bob my head up and down. His hips bucked underneath my hand and I knew he was getting close. His breathes were coming frantically now and I glanced up to see his head tossed back against the wall, eyes shut with pleasure.

“Hailey..I’m gonna-” The words caught in his mouth as I swallowed his length again, feeling him explode into my mouth. I sucked until he was twitching and I knew the touch was becoming overwhelming. I released him from my mouth with a pop and stood up. His face was flushed and a light glean of sweat covered his forehead. I drug my thumb against the corner of my mouth, gathering the wetness there and then slid my finger into his mouth, giving a low moan when he softly bit down on my finger.

“Let’s go home.” His voice was husky and deep.

“Nah, I think I want another drink.” I smirked up at him, raising an eyebrow before darting away, back towards the bar. He followed me begrudgingly and I turned to plant a light kiss on his lips before pulling open the establishments door. I laughed because anyone who looked at his face, still flushed and sweaty, would know what had just happened. Before I could step inside the bar, I noticed a figure making his way towards the exit. When I saw that it was Voight leaving the bar, I held the door just long enough that he would notice Jay and I standing there, dipping into the bar just as he got close enough. Jay, who was still slightly dazed and hadn’t yet noticed Voight, stepped in right behind me, freezing when he made eye contact with our Sargent. I continued walking, giving Voight a brief smile before ducking my head down. I lingered by the bar and was rewarded with their brief conversation.

“Halstead.” Voight nodded towards him, pausing to take a better look. It was at that moment I noticed Jay hadn’t tucked his shirt back in and coupled with his tousled hair and pink cheeks it was a dead give away as to what he had just finished doing.

“Sarge.” Jay swallowed hard, eyes looking anywhere but Hank.

“What did I tell you about keeping it in your pants?” Hank shoved his hands in his pockets, managing to look both threatening and highly amused at the same time.

“I uh...Sarge...” Jay stumbled and stammered, trying to find the right words. “Won’t happen again.”

“Mmm.” Voight grumbled, glancing back to me and causing an instant flush of heat to spread through my face. “Bet you’ve heard that before.” And with that Voight left the bar, leaving Jay frozen in place and me sinking impossibly low into my bar stool.

#chicago pd #chicago pd fanfiction #halstead and upton #jay halstead #hailey upton #halstead #jay x hailey #upstead #upton

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thatiranianphantom · 4 years

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Riverdale, Buffy, and the Musical Episode, an analysis.

Hey all! I have spent far too long writing out my thoughts on Riverdale vs. Buffy’s musical episode, from the perspective of a theatre nerd. Thoughts are welcomed!

To those who aren’t aware, I, your humble author, am a massive musical nerd. I have ALL the musical memorabilia, Broadway and the West End are places I’ve visited many times, my favorite genre of music by far is musical theatre, and I am just a musical nerd in all senses of the word.

Which leads to a...perhaps more sharp criticism when a medium like TV attempts to dive into the world of musical theatre.

(Also, full disclosure, while I enjoy the music of Carrie, Heathers, and certainly Buffy’s musical episode, the music of Hedwig just...don’t work for me. It’s not bad music, it’s not a bad show, it’s just not my thing.)

In this short analysis, I’m going to attempt to explain why Riverdale’s musical episodes fail, and why it IS possible to successfully mount a great musical episode on TV, by way of example, Buffy the Vampire Slayer’s episode “Once More, With Feeling”.

First, a short recap of both shows’ musical episodes.

Currently, Riverdale has three musical episodes. These are all jukebox shows (performing pre-written and pre-performed songs), based on three popular musicals. They first did Carrie the Musical, then Heathers, then Hedwig and the Angry Inch. As to this point, all of them have occurred in a diegetic setting - that is, the characters were aware that the songs were being performed. Carrie and Heathers were explained as being the school musical of the year, and Hedwig was ostensibly performed to prove a point, and to support a student struggling with his own identity.

Buffy’s one musical episode was in season six, arguably one of the darkest seasons Buffy ever had. It is also a diegetic musical, but not a jukebox musical. It features original songs, written by show creator Joss Whedon. The songs are given explanations and each one is written specifically to fit a character.

To sum it very basically, Buffy’s musical episode is much, much better. It is the first episode I would recommend if you were ever in the market for a musical episode, and it takes itself very seriously, while occurring in a very unrealistic setting.

At the point Carrie occurs in Riverdale, the characters are dealing with a serial killer known as the Black Hood, who ends up murdering their friend and cast member by the end of the musical, on stage. Of the three musical episodes, you could make a pretty strong argument that the first two musicals tie themselves into the plot best. The role of Carrie’s mother is given to Alice Cooper, because she is also struggling with family issues. Purportedly, the song “Unsuspecting Hearts” is used to make up between two characters, as is “You Shine”.

Buffy’s musical episode occurs at a time where the characters are all struggling with big secrets that they don’t feel able to tell. It’s driving a wedge between all of them, and there’s a large undercurrent of tension. Buffy can’t tell her friends about the depression she’s struggling with, Willow is becoming dangerously addicted to magic, which has caused her to cast two spells, erasing a memory of a fight from her girlfriend Tara’s mind. Spike is in love with Buffy, but is very much wrestling with what that means. Giles has made plans to leave, because he feels like he is hindering Buffy’s growth. Anya and Xander are having serious doubts about their upcoming marriage. The tension created by all these boils under the surface, but nobody plans to say anything.

The catalyst for this episode occurs in the form of an unnamed demon, who is accidentally summoned and whose primary power is to make people sing and dance - until they can’t stop, and they burn up. It adds a note of risk to the episode. They are being forced into this, and the stakes are high if they don’t comply.

And so, one by one, all the characters are forced to express their deepest secrets through song, and the demon leaves them to deal with the fallout. It did what Riverdale, fundamentally, has never managed to do: the songs force the plotline foreward.

That would have been impossible without the songs. The characters are unwilling to open up to each other, and they feel unable to express themselves, until the demon literally musically forces them to do so. At the end of the episode, their biggest secret, the secret that will inform the rest of the season, is revealed: Buffy’s friends didn’t pull her out of Hell, they pulled her out of heaven, where she was at peace, and now the world around her is bright and violent and she is miserable. That revelation will literally carry us to the season finale.

Riverdale’s musical episodes are, in a way, explained as above. High schools do musicals. It happens. But all of our main cast, and all in the lead roles? Not likely. And that explanation is made even thinner in the latest musical episode, where characters burst into song at random, like Betty and Jughead’s fight in the bunker, or Kevin and the girls breaking into “Wig in a Box” during a sleepover.

The issue becomes very contrasting between the two musicals: Buffy builds their world around the songs. The songs are crucial to the plot. The episode wouldn’t work if these specific songs were not given to these specific characters.

Riverdale, however, bases the songs around the plot, and the result is a very odd episode with songs shoehorned in. They aren’t necessary, they’re just...there. Buffy crafts a plot around the songs. Tara finds the flower Willow used in a previous episode to wipe her mind of a fight, and we can see the song naturally build off that. Tara sings Under Your Spell, which is meaningful because she is quite literally under Willow’s spell. Toni is shoehorned into the Heathers musical to be a choreographer, despite there being no previous indication of any experience with choreography, because they need to get her into the room to sing Candy Store, because Heathers features this song, which means they have to.

The Riverdale musicals take none of the plot of their source materials, which strips the very songs they struggle to add in of all their context and meaning. For example, Hedwig is a show which features a domestic violence plotline as one of its main arcs. Hedwig herself is a pretty terrible person. You would never know that from watching the episode. Heathers’ entire premise talks about how it’s very easy to influence someone into cruelty to the very people who were kind to them, and how quickly a lie can spiral out of control. None of that features in the Heathers Riverdale episode. These songs are powerful because of the context that surrounds them, and that is just...gone. Hedwig’s final song (Midnight Radio) exists in universe as a song where Hedwig finds emotional catharsis and hands her stage off to someone else. It’s exceptionally meaningful, because the whole musical has been a journey to this point. None of that poignancy is able to be translated to Riverdale.

In contrast, Buffy’s final song (Where Do We Go From Here) feels very earned because it feels like the end of a journey for the characters. All their secrets are exposed, and you can feel the ramifications that will last for a long time after this. And that’s not even mentioning Buffy’s solo Something To Sing About, where she is literally begging for something to make her feel more alive. This only works if Buffy is singing it. The song is designed around her, and it is where she admits her biggest secret. The song is necessary, it is crucial. NONE of the songs in the Riverdale musical episodes have this same power.

(ALSO, RE: RIVERDALE HEATHERS, J.D. IS ONE OF HEATHERS MAIN CHARACTERS, I WAS SO EXCITED TO HAVE SWEET PEA PLAYING HIM, AND NONE OF J.D.’S SONGS WERE GIVEN TO SWEET PEA. INJUSTICE. ALSO ALSO, THIS LINE:

Reggie: Just two single straight dudes doing some theatre.

OH SWEET REGGIE. NOBODY HAS TOLD YOU ABOUT KURT AND RAM HAVE THEY DARLING?)

It should be noted that Riverdale’s songs in all three musicals are heavily reworked to fit the characters, and the TV network rating, better.

Music has meaning. The songs should be there to do something, not just have extra content to churn out and look good doing it. As stated, Riverdale’s musical episodes aren’t necessary. There are no stakes to their expression through song.

Fundamentally, Buffy understands what a musical episode is. They do only one, and that was a fight to get on the network as it was.

Think of it this way: did the songs affect the characters and plotline enough that it would still have ramifications a few episodes later?

Buffy’s certainly did.

One could theoretically say Midge’s death affected Riverdale, which did occur during the episode. One could also say that Betty and Jughead burning the trailer affected Riverdale. But those didn’t need the songs to exist. Again, they were just….there.

And then there’s the issue of vocal performance.

Look, musicals are a lot of work, and it’s hard on the voice.

Buffy’s cast does feature several singers. Notably, Anthony Stewart Head, Amber Benson and James Marsters have had separate success in music outside of Buffy.

Riverdale’s cast features a grand total of one person with professional musical experience (that would be Casey Cott, who makes that fact entirely obvious). I suppose KJ Apa counts too, so let’s say two to be generous.

But again, Buffy wins this round. Make no mistake, their songs are autotuned. Just about every piece of music you’ve heard since the 80s has had some amount of autotune applied to it. Sarah Michelle Gellar would probably be the first to admit, she is not a singer. Actually, up until she received the music, she was fully planning on being dubbed, and is openly says she is not comfortable singing. And you can tell. In the musical, she sounds fine. She’s not amazing. That’s actually the point. She sings well enough to fully communicate the emotions she’s feeling, but it feels genuine. You can believe Buffy is actually singing, not in that full voiced, broadway quality voice that so many Riverdale episodes feature, but in a normal-person singing voice, the voice we all use when we sing in the shower. Willow is not a great singer, and Alyson Hannigan is clearly not comfortable singing either. Accordingly, she’s given the fairly meta line “I think this line’s mostly filler”, and it doesn’t sound heavily autotuned. It’s a normal person voice.

In contrast, Riverdale’s voices are mostly a machine. I’d kill to listen to the raw tracks, but they are practically waterboarded with autotune. One can scarcely distinguish a real voice in there. They don’t sound like real people, they sound like professionally polished singers. And how many high schools have full choruses of broadway quality singers? It takes you out of the show. I actually would have liked Riverdale’s musical episodes far better, had they let them use their more natural voices. It would have sounded less polished, sure, but it also would have sounded more real. Lili Reinhart has a pretty voice naturally. I would have loved to see that being allowed to exist in these episodes.

(On a slightly separate note, Casey Cott is very clearly a singer. His voice is full, trained and controlled. It stands out above everyone’s in every musical episode).

In summation, musical episodes are becoming more and more common, but that doesn’t mean they’re easy to do well. However, if you understand the meaning you have to imbue music with on a medium like TV, and craft your context around the singing, it can work.

And if you’re looking for a musical episode, for god sakes, watch Once More With Feeling.

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poindorkster · 4 years

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tagged by the only person who likes me @luci-cunt thank you for noticing me and enjoying the things I post, I love your writings and your blog and your vibe and aaahhheusjsvudejwosonfjdj unnnghhh♡♡♡

ARE YOU STAYING HOME FROM WORK/SCHOOL? yerr, I'm a nanny and was working to help the single mom I work for do all the at home schooling for the 3 children. She is still working bc she is a psychologist and just switched to phone and video calls.... but then she got sick. And so did the kids.

They're all doing okay. But yeah, I haven't been to work in 3 weeks.

IF YOU’RE STAYING HOME, WHO IS THERE WITH YOU? My boyfriend, his mom, our 4 cats, and the snake I'm not allowed to hold (well, I could but he bites o.o) I also went and stole my dog back from my mom for a day or two cause I missed her. (that's a long story but when I moved my mom was like FINE GIT but was like sobbing over my dog like NOOO NOT MY BABY!!)

ARE YOU A HOMEBODY? As of the past year or 2 yeah, my self image and depression got bad again so I just kept saying no to plans. This self isolating stuff has been going on longer than the virus existed. Now I can bail on video calls instead of plans tho, so thats new and exciting 👍

AN EVENT THAT YOU WERE LOOKING FORWARD TO THAT GOT CANCELLED? Well there was a Billy Strings concert on April 16th that got moved to September. but I'm awaiting cancellation of the concert at Red Rocks in Colorado at the end of May. It hasn't been yet but I'm sure it will be. It is The Devil Makes Three and The Punch Brothers and I was going with two of my closest friends. I've never been to Colorado and I was sooo looking forward to it. But I understand if it is cancelled. But if GreyFox the music festival I go to in July every year SINCE I WAS BORN is cancelled I'm gonna rain hellfire on some ignant bitches who weren't following the CDC guidelines

WHAT MOVIES HAVE YOU WATCHED RECENTLY? just watched Glass, the m.night shyamalan movie that is the 3rd in the Unbreakable and Split series. It wasn't as good as the first two, but it was still samuel l. jackson, bruce willis and james mcavoy(playing 24 fucking characters) so still good

WHAT SHOWS ARE YOU WATCHING? just finished Tiger King lolol also lots of stand up and buzzfeed unsolved because i love my sons shane and ryan and they make me giggle in these trying times

WHAT MUSIC ARE YOU LISTENING TO? Brockhampton and Kevin Abstract, but not as much music as I normally do bc I mostly jam out in the car and I'm not going anywhere. I also have been singing and listening to this song called Junkies in Love by That Handsome Devil which is great and I am eternally grateful to spotify discover weekly for showing it to me as well as showing me the band Jukebox the Ghost over 2 years ago and I've been blasting their song Jumpstarted a lot also

WHAT ARE YOU READING? I've been reading or listening to audiobooks everyday, I read the first witcher book, the last wish and meant to go on with those but wanted something more goofy and gay so took a detour to read the gentleman's guide to vice and virtue (which was delightful) and was either going to read the sequel, the lady's guide to petticoats and piracy, or continue with the witcher books, but somehow i blacked out and started rereading aftg again...idk what happened i swear...

WHAT ARE YOU DOING FOR SELF-CARE? honestly, not enough. last week i was better to myself, I ate real, balanced meals, and was writing in my journal and I took two bubble baths and made sure to do some skin care everyday, but this week I've really just turned into an oreo loving mountain troll... :/

I'm trying to create art again, cause I know the accomplishment I will feel after is better than most drugs, but its hard. my bestfriend emily made this facebook group called community art challenge, where everyone is just sharing the things they are creating during this time and I'm trying to get over my anxieties when it comes to creating anything, i always feel like I'm just wasting supplies that could be used for something great and I shouldn't even try. I'm gonna try tho, it may be terrible but I'm gonna fucking try

i have like no friends on here so idk who to tag... guess I'll just try to tag some ppls i like and who maybe like me, maybe you wanna do this?

@absolutebeginnerlondoner @belashi @rose-colored-ghost @amysnotdeadyet (we have the same name and i love your blog♡)

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jukeboxjulian · 4 years

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( TOM HOLLAND / CIS MALE / TWENTY FOUR / HE/HIM/HIS ) i always seem to run into JULIAN EVANS at jukebox records. i’ve heard that if the REGULAR CUSTOMER had to choose one go-to record, it’d be SAVES THE WORLD by MUNA and that they can be CARING but also kind of SHY. for some reason, they always make me think of FINGERS CALLUSED FROM GUITAR STRINGS, TOO MANY SCARS TO COUNT, and THE TOO GOOD TOO PURE FOR THIS WORLD CINNAMON ROLL MEME. — ( alyssa, 27, pst, she/her/hers )

hi everyone!! I’m alyssa and I am super super new to tumblr rp... as in, this is my first time ever roleplaying on here in a group (eek)! I’ve been roleplaying for over 15 years now (seriously) and am usually used to forums and 1x1, so I’m excited to try something new :) I tend to write a LOT - as in if you don’t shut me up, I will give you thousands and thousands of words for replies hehe. anywho, julian is one of my favorite muses ever and I’m so excited to bring him here!! without further ado, here is my sweet baby angel precious baby panda, julian!

TW: child abuse, domestic violence, and alcoholism.

background | past & present

julian was born julian tyler evans on march 28, 1996, in santa barbara, california, to claire evans and dylan porter. if you ask him, he’ll tell you he has one parent - his biggest inspiration and his role model, claire. julian inherited all his best traits from claire: his kindness, his determination, his passion, and his ability to care for everyone and anyone. as a pediatric nurse, claire worked long hours throughout the majority of julian’s childhood, but still managed to stay exceptionally present in her son’s life and parent him through a tumultuous relationship.

dylan is out of the picture. julian has a few happy memories with his dad prior to the age of six, but the majority of their relationship is mired in trauma. dylan always had problems with alcohol, even prior to having julian, but those issues worsened when he lost his job in the early 2000s. seemingly overnight, the dad that julian once knew vanished. what started as a loving father-son relationship turned into a twisted game of cat and mouse, and julian found himself walking on eggshells in his own home. more often than not, julian spent his nights covering the bruises and scratches dylan gave him earlier in the day. julian and claire quickly became ER regulars, and he learned to sew his own stitches before his fourteenth birthday.

the abuse julian endured forced him to turn his pain and doubts inward. the overly happy and energetic child version of julian disappeared, replaced by a cautious and quiet boy who didn’t dare rock the boat for fear of retaliation. throughout his difficult childhood, julian found solace in one thing - music. as the son of two musicians, julian learned guitar and piano before he learned to form proper sentences. a natural knack for the craft led julian to pick up bass, drums, and production at an early age (though guitar and piano are still his first loves). the majority of julian’s high school years were spent locked in his room, perfecting one beat for several hours or layering vocals late into the night.

his best friend, danny, is perhaps the only thing that kept julian’s head above water throughout his childhood. julian and danny met in the orchestra room in middle school when neither of them had friends to sit with at lunch. the two boys became best friends instantly and helped each other through their childhood struggles - danny helped julian survive his dad’s abuse and julian provided danny with a safe space after coming out to his homophobic parents.

julian and danny moved to san francisco for college. it was there that they met zoe and kevin through an on-campus a cappella group. the four bonded immediately through a cappella and now play together in a band (and live together as roommates). you can catch them playing gigs around town, and you’ll probably catch julian outside the venue two hours later having in-depth conversations with every person who showed up for their show. the stage is the one place where julian comes alive - he’s a natural performer and sheds his shy persona easily when he’s in his element.

outside of the band, julian works as a second grade teacher, and occasionally works in the stacks at the local library during the summers to make extra money. he adores children and spends most of his free time coming up with lesson plans and songs to teach his kids in an engaging way. adorable elementary school teacher by day, hot musician by night: the julian evans story.

personality

julian is the definition of the “beautiful cinnamon roll, too good, too pure for this world” meme. he cares deeply and intensely about the people he loves, and he’s the most loyal friend you’ll ever have. julian is the friend who will hold your hair back while you puke. he leaves granola bars in his roommates’ cars when he knows they’re not eating enough. he goes out of his way to care for everyone he meets without expecting anything in return.

with that being said, julian is a bit of a doormat. this largely stems from his history of abuse - he’s used to thinking that things are his fault, and that it’s easiest to accept the blame and not rock the boat, even when he’s in the right. he’s the guy who won’t mention that the waiter got his order wrong at a restaurant because he doesn’t want to make them uncomfortable. you could shoot julian in the heart and he would apologize for bleeding on your clothes.

julian prefers lyrics to discussions. he’s a producer and a songwriter above all else, and he finds it much easier to express his feelings through music than through conversation. when his back’s against the wall - when he’s experiencing intense ptsd or anxiety or sadness or anger - he locks himself in his room and writes music.

as someone who craves deep, lasting connections, he isn’t one to have lots of acquaintances or fair-weather friends. he can count the number of close friends he has on one hand and he likes it that way. it’s hard for julian to open up to people initially, but once you get through his quiet exterior, he’ll let his guard down and stick with you no matter what.

in terms of romantic relationships, julian is tragically heterosexual. like in his friendships, julian is the type of person who wants a long-term, stable relationship. since his childhood, julian has always been a hopeless romantic, constantly searching for the girl who will finally make him understand the love songs he’s listened to his whole life. he’s painfully shy, which means he has a hard time approaching girls he’s interested in, and most girls don’t take the time to crack through his quiet exterior. with that being said, the girl who does end up with him for the long haul is in for a very loving relationship.

headcanons

around his friends, julian is the quintessential chaotic aries. he WILL set the kitchen on fire because he moves too quickly while cooking and will try to do backflips in the living room just to prove he can.

julian is a fantastic cook and a terrible baker, because he gets too distracted to properly follow directions. he’s also been a vegetarian since he was 13. his favorite food is his mom’s eggplant parmesan.

he has a small garden on the balcony of his apartment, where he’s trying to grow vegetables and flowers. he says hi to the bees that show up every morning and has names for all of them, even though he can’t tell them apart.

julian loves his music more than anything and tries to form deep, lasting connections with the fans of his band. he remembers every person he’s met and always tries to connect with people, even though it’s a bit draining for him as an introvert. he’s terrible at social media and has no idea how to work instagram live, but tries to do it anyway to connect with the fans.

julian will listen to anything and everything - kpop, death metal, folk, rap, the works. he drives his roommates up the wall by blaring music at all hours of the day.

he has a pit bull named belle that he adopted from the shelter. she’s his best friend. he also has four aunts, and was basically raised in an intersectionally feminist sex-positive witch coven. yep.

producing is julian’s biggest passion, followed closely by songwriting. he produces all of his band’s songs and enjoys collaborating with others on production. it’s the one area where he feels confident enough to be himself.

for someone so shy, julian is super comfortable with his sexuality and won’t stand for toxic masculinity. he and danny used to do drag, but he hasn’t had a ton of time for it recently. he is also very confident in the bedroom, which surprises a lot of people. hehe.

julian is a boxer. what stemmed from a need to defend himself turned into a genuine passion - it’s easy for him to turn his brain off and focus when he’s working out. that being said, you’ll only find him at the gym in the wee hours of the morning, when he doesn’t have to be around too many people. he is an introvert, after all :)

julian is dyslexic and has pretty terrible vision, so he needs glasses. he usually wears contacts, but the first girl to tell him she thinks he looks cute in his glasses will steal his heart.

#jukeboxintro #( intro )#sorry I wrote so much there is SO MUCH to julian u guys will see #eeeeep

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moastays · 5 years

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late night fun (f)

kevin x reader

summary: when you and kevin cant sleep and get peckish, you decide to go to the late night diner up the street.

warning: just alot of fluff!! a little making out too

———

it was 1 am. you and kevin quickly walked into the 24 hour breakfast restaurant and sat down. you looked over at your boyfriend with his messy hair and his pastel printed animal pajamas that matched yours and smiled. you loved him so much. he always knew what to say, what to do, and how to make you feel like you were on a complete high when he was around.

you and kevin werent able to sleep and got hungry so you both decided to go out to a popular 24 hour breakfast/lunch restaurant.

“you know, this is where we had a first date.” he said while reaching to grab your hand from across the table.

“indeed it is. how could i not remember when you somehow fell out the booth we were sitting at” you said making him glare at you and cauing you to giggle. a waitress came over and kevin ordered for the both of you.

the atmosphere of the diner was so calming. the jukebox playing some old alternative music as the neon lights inside filled the room. kevin began singing along to the song softly which cause you to look over at him. he closed his eyes while singing the song in a beautiful calming voice while gently swaying your hand to the beat of the music.

“you are so perfect.” you said softly causing him to blush.

he brought your hand up to his face and kissed your knuckles before resting both of your hands back on the table “not as perfect as you baby” he said softly causing you both to smile.

after waiting for your food a little longer, you and kevin could both feel your body grow tired from the euphoric high you were on early. but soon after a golden set of pancakes were placed in front of the both of you to share. you clapped your hands together excited to eat.

y/n you are the most beautiful person i have ever met kevin thought before you both began to eat.

you both finished your food quickly and paid for your meals as you began walking hand and hand in hand back to your apartment. the walk was filled with a bunch of sleepy laughs and absent minded flirting.

after a few more minutes of walking you finally made it back to your place. you were trying to find the key when kevin’s hands smoothly found its way under your shirt to massage the sides of your body. you blushed as he put his head on your shoulder but turned it to kiss your neck. when you made it inside you and kevin went straight to your room feeling very tired after your night out.

kevin sat on your bed while you took off his hoodie and got comfortable for bed. you changed into one of his lose graphic t shirts before stretching and yawning slightly. you were about to crawl under the covers until kevin pulled you to sit on his lap.

“kev baby im sleepy-“ you said but were cut pff when he crashed his lips into yours. it took you a second to respond but when kevin felt your hands come up to rest on your shoulder, he couldnt help but smile into the kiss. he wrapped his arms tightly around your waist as the sound of the passionate kiss filled the room. you ran your fingers through his hair wanting to touch every part of him as if he was gonna go away. kevin was precious to you and you hoped he knew that. the kiss was soft and slow but also needy, the high you were on early coming back because of kevins lips on yours. he was like a drug that cause you to constantly want to be around him and make him happy. he was addictive but in a good way and that made you feel good. he hummed in delight as your ran your hands through his hair a few more times and then squeezed his shoulder. he broke the kiss when you both needed air. soft panting from the loss of air filled the room.

you rested your forehead against his, a big tired goofy smile resting on your lips after what just happened.

“honey i love you so much please dont ever leave me okay?” he said softly. you lifted up your head and brought one of your hands up to carress his cheek. he leaned into your hand while staring into your sleepy eyes with his.

“baby i will never leave you. you’re gonna have to do alot to get rid of me i love you too much.” you said causing him to giggle slightly.

“well im glad i will always have you by my side.” he said before pulling you into a much softer sleepier kiss than earlier. after the kiss ended you quickly kissed down kevins jaw and began leaving little kisses on his neck and slightly sucking the skin. he sighed in delight at the loving action. you wanted him to know that you loved him and loved everything about him, and when you felt the grip on your waist tighten you were sure he understood what you were trying to convey. you kissed the skin a bit more before feeling satisfied with your action.

“if i wake up with a hickey im going to kill you y/n” he said closing his eyes as you kissed back up his jaw and then peck his lips.

“no promises baby~ cmon lets go to sleep” you said grinning as the both of you slid under your covers. you let out a content sigh when you felt kevins arms wrap around you and pull you closer to him.

he left a kiss on your shoulder before you both exchanged quick i love yous’ and fell straight asleep. you couldnt have asked for a better night.

#the boyz imagines #tbz imagines #the boyz x reader #the boyz scenarios #the boyz drabbles #kpop imagines #kpop scenarios #kpop fluff #fluff #kpop au #the boyz kevin #tbz kevin #kevin imagines #the boyz fluff #the boyz

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thesinglesjukebox · 4 years

Video

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MC KEVIN O CHRIS FT. SODRé - EVOLUIU

[5.29]

We Are Rioooooo too, as Carlos brings us one of Brazil's biggest stars of 2019.

Carlos Calenti: The thing I'll miss the much about living in Rio, where I moved from last month, is just absorbing the new funk hits that give life to the city. Dodging over Uruguaiana street market and listening to the JBL speakers blasting loud music, or just being at my old house, hearing the funk waves of the Pedra do Sal parties late Monday nights, I could always get updated in the new funk scene, kind of by osmosis. This year I didn't hear anyone's voice as much as MC Kevin o Chris. A true hitmaker, he's the most known artist of 150 BPM funk, the super fast new iteration of the rhythm. I belive Kevin has gained so much mainstream success because he knows very well how to counterbalance the chaotic aggressiveness of 150 with mellower parts, where a song stretches itself sensuously before the beat kicks in and makes everybody quicar. This happens in "Evoluiu," one of the biggest Brazilian hits of 2019. This year hasn't been a good one for us, and this is especially true for Rio de Janeiro, a city in a very real economic and moral bankruptcy, ruled by a fascist mayor and governor, both partners in crime with Bolsonaro family. But, at the dancefloor, when Kevin sings "Eu sou o Riooo" ("I am Rio"), he holds the crumbling ground under our feet a little longer, enough time to all of us arrastar a ppk no chão (drag our pussies to the ground). [8]

Kayla Beardslee: Farty beat that goes nowhere, whiny performances, and a male gaze music video. No thanks. [1]

Oliver Maier: Efficient but seldom hurried, "Evoluiu" operates so completely by its own rules that its scrappy, lo-fi instrumentation barely feels scrappy or lo-fi. Rewires the brain or compels the feet, take your pick. [8]

Ian Mathers: Why is the guy with the worst voice the one hollering the.... hook(?)? Why does the chorus stall the momentum entirely in favour of dialling up the digital distortion/slurring on the other guy's voice (and why does it almost work?)? Why is the best part that kind of farty blare that only really shows up twice, including right at the end? [5]

Will Adams: A song of three sections held together with Scotch tape, which itself isn't that much a problem, except only one of the sections is good: a hyperspeed funk carioca break with an oddly satisfying gurgling horn. The other two: an ambient breakdown that does absolutely nothing; near-unlistenable acapella wailing. [5]

Edward Okulicz: The use of silence as part of the beat is startling -- in a good way. Kevin o Chris alternating between mumbling and braying tunelessly is startling too, I suppose. His voice is the only thread linking parts of the track, but it's also the least compelling thing here. [6]

Kylo Nocom: Begins with some truly horrendous bleating, but it's not long before MC Kevin o Chris bleats, honks, and spits right into my heart. Just barely. [4]

[Read, comment and vote on The Singles Jukebox]

#MC Kevin o Chris #Sodre #pop #music #music review #Reader's Week

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decepti-geek · 6 years

Text

My dumbass Strictly Come Dancing AU masterpost

So Strictly finally featured a dance to Power of Love a while back! which meant that like a fool, I ran away and started earnestly working on a silly idea I’d been sitting on, and this is the result. Heavy on the cygate, with Rodimus and Minimus as accidental breakout stars, a LOT of Postmodern Jukebox music, and a veeeery haphazard work-in-progress playlist.

The point of this is basically to make people who watch the show giggle a bit, I guess, but also! If anyone has any idea of who would judge/host (cause I got nothin’), or even ideas for extra couples, PLEASE drop by my inbox, and ditto a thousand times over if anyone can think of new song/dance style pairings for any of the couples!!! I wanna Talk about this AU okay, it’s silly and fluffy and it’s been giving me joy for months and hopefully it’ll be fun for people who read it too.

Under a cut cause this got L O N G.

A couple of notes: I’m definitely moving musicals week to much earlier in the competition, since musicals are like, a good 25% of my overall music taste, which doesn’t translate well to only having four or so couples left at that point. And a note about who the minibots get paired with - I know actual Strictly tends to match for height, but I feel like in Cybertronian society that could be taken in… a variety of bad ways, not least perpetuating the idea of former disposables or similar only being allowed to dance with other disposables. So I figure with this one, the system’s a little different (also i just want my OTPs to dance together okay).

This is also, admittedly, more drama-filled than actual Strictly appears to the casual viewer, BUT I know the tabloids make much of the show even if I’m not a habitual tabloid reader.

(And I know I have a lot of charlestons in here, shush, it’s my favourite dance).

So! Thus far, the professional dancers/celebs I have outlined are:

Brainstorm - who, honestly, is basically Kevin. He’s willing to push things a bit further than the others with choreography and concepts, and sometimes he does push things a bit too far and they come out kinda weird to the judges (think the charleston to Cantina Band), but still adored by the popular vote. It makes for an interesting combination when he’s matched with serious, dedicated Jack-of-all-limelights Perceptor, who I see as being a bit like a reverse Brian Cox?? He started out well-known in the academic sector, then made it big as, idk, an actor (in the Mads Mikkelsen vein) and maybe a bit of modelling, and now he’s wound up here (I just realised that a lot of my celebs are more famous than the majority on Strictly tend to be, OH WELL).

They clash a LOT in initial rehearsals, but somewhere along the line Perceptor comes round enough to see that no, he did not get paired with the frivolous pro who doesn’t care about winning - Brainstorm just has a unique way of showing his love for his craft.

Also, you know how every year there's like, one lady pro who sprints over and full on leaps at her partner when he's revealed? Yeah, that's Brainstorm.

I’d like to think they make it to the semi-finals. And I desperately want to say that they have a dance to She Blinded Me With Science (cha cha cha maybe?). Kinda also want to steal Kevin's Doctor Who tango idea that he did this year. I think you could squeeze a quickstep out of End Of The World As We Know It, and then they've got two PMJ songs: a charleston to Final Countdown, and a foxtrot to I Believe In A Thing Called Love. ALSO HALLOWEEN JIVE TO TIME WARP I CANNOT STRESS THIS ENOUGH.

Tarn - who is here mostly so I can have him dance the paso doble to Phantom of the Opera with Pharma. These two are both suuuuper committed to the competitive aspect, enough that they’re willing to put aside their initial, rather drastic ideological differences, although the bickering does eventually eat away at their partnership. They get eliminated about midway through (though they do make it to the equivalent of Blackpool), and subsequently have a brief fling followed by a dramatic split that the tabloids eat up every last morsel of.

Other songs I can see them dancing to include a quickstep or American Smooth to Intermission by Scissor Sisters, a charleston to Crazy In Love (same arrangement as Kevin and Louise’s just, y’know, maybe not Harley/Joker themed), and maaaaybe their rumba is PMJ’s version of Toxic, with possibly a tango to Killer by the Hoosiers.

There’s added tension, too, in that - since I’m trying to look at the ‘celebrity’ aspect in the broader way Cybertronians might, as well - Pharma’s own main professional rival is competing this year alongside him.

Said rival being partnered with Drift, who’s been on the team of pro dancers long enough that he’s undergone something of a shift. It used to be that he got the younger, more… shall we say, visually appealing celebrity dancers, and he’d happily choreograph routines that oozed as much danger and/or sex appeal as the producers called for - to the ire of more than one watching conjunx endura. While he might once or twice have encouraged that to go further behind the scenes in his early days, he’s matured the longer he’s been in the business. Following a bit of a new-age spiritual journey between two seasons of the show, Drift has since come to be regarded as a friendly, experienced face for the not-quite-so-young, nervously inexperienced celebs, though the audience hasn’t exactly been quick to forget his past.

The decision to partner him with Ratchet (physician to the rich and powerful; philanthropist; unflappable, no-nonsense, complete and utter grump) is therefore met with some confusion. This was a calculated move on the part of the show’s producers, though - in the early days of Drift’s run with the series, he botched a lift and came down from it with a pretty impressive sprain. Sparing no expense for their most prized dancer at the time, the best of the best was called in to sort him out.

There was a disagreement in the treatment room, concerning the morality of Drift seducing his latest celebrity partner away from her conjunx, and the resulting shouting match passed into legend among the production crew, even if it was somehow prevented from being leaked to the public. The higher-ups are now capitalising on this, as the whole thing is sure to explode in some sort of direction, and they want the ratings boost that will result once it does.

Except… it never explodes. See, that confrontation with Ratchet was the first half of what led Drift to revise his behaviour. He'd started his dancing career young, with a string of agents, managers, what have you at the beginning encouraging him to believe that there's no such thing as bad publicity, and it didn't matter who he hurt along the way. The fact that someone famed for his straightforwardness and his principles - in a famously cutthroat environment - was now calling him up on that behaviour was enough to make Drift begin to question it. Throw in meeting Wing on a hiking holiday a few years down the line, after a shaky year of competitions and an unexpected early elimination from the show, and he's ready to really start bettering himself.

It showed, obviously, but never so much before now, where Drift is actively trying to prove that he took Ratchet’s words on board. Ratchet is… a little freaked out by the intensity of his conviction to do so, but they work through it and develop one of the strongest working relationships of any on the show.

It takes until after the show to become anything more than a working relationship, because they're both rather shy in their own ways, but when it finally does no one's really surprised anymore.

They definitely dance the jive to Bad Case of Loving You, and I'm entertaining the idea of a Halloween salsa to Jump In The Line from Beetlejuice mostly for the staging potential of the moving furniture, especially the rocking chair and all the jokes to be had from that. :D

And after LL 25… they’ve gotta dance to Easter Parade by Emmy the Great, it’s just perfect for them. I think it’d work best as a waltz, with some editing.

There’s also Skids, whose star rapidly rose and then stayed at the top, upon entering the competitive dancing scene. He was a quick study and he's also a decent teacher, so he gets matched with star comedian Swerve, who has veeeery little confidence in his ability. Although it’s not something he entirely gets over, at least enough to get them both more than halfway, it IS something he sticks at after leaving the competition, and he stays in touch with Skids as well.

Nobody’s ever really sure if their regular meetups post-series are dance lessons or ‘dance lessons.’ (Mostly because Skids is very, very skilled at flying under the radar).

And I d e s p e r a t e l y want to steal Kellie Bright’s dance to Oom Pah Pah for these two, cause a Viennese waltz set in a tavern is perfect for Swerve.

Lug is one half of the inevitable married pro couple, and I weirdly like the idea of her being matched with Windblade? Not really got any ideas for them on the song front, other than maaaaaybe a charleston to Nowadays from Chicago? but I think they’d make it a good way into the proceedings - they seem like they’d get along well, and Windblade’s got a natural grace to her.

Lug’s wife and partner in crime dance is Anode, who has a similarly capable celebrity student, in celebrated scientist and author Nautica. Unfortunately, these two don’t quite get off on the best foot, and a lot of initial promise becomes a flash in the pan that quickly falls apart. Their routines and skill are still pretty memorable (barring the one bad week that ruined things), even if they don’t make it as far.

They charleston to Magnificent Men In Their Flying Machines because cmon. Nautica’s an engineer and Anode is a literal biplane.

Perhaps surprisingly, I’m chucking Whirl in here as a professional, too - a new hire for this year, viewed by the producers as a bit of a risk - paired up with renowned psychologist and amnesiac deity Rung. The idea I’m running with is that for Whirl, the dancing is basically an outlet post-empurata. It lets him exhaust himself physically and mentally, as long as he completely throws himself into it (and boy does he ever)... so that he can blunt the edge of the hurt he’s still got bottled up. And before he found this outlet, he had a chequered past to say the least, which the media capitalises on immediately, plunging the new guy into the spotlight. The new guy adamantly refuses to be a sob story, or the subject of inspiration porn, and smashes more than one camera to illustrate this point, so all the attention ends up veering towards the negative as a result.

Rung, though - Rung can see, more than anything, that Whirl still needs help, no matter how adamant he might be that he’s found his own balance. Rung’s in this to learn and have fun - and for his faults, Whirl is a decent teacher - but he can never ignore when he sees someone hurting. At first, the most he does is quietly stand up to any stray reporters who come hassling (with the patented I’m-not-mad-I’m-just-disappointed approach), but they do eventually develop a firm friendship, once Whirl realises he’s actually got someone on his side for once.

Rung himself is in a Bad position to do anything more, given that even the three weeks of initial training was time enough to develop something of a bond; so instead, he quietly slips Whirl the number of a younger associate: someone who, he assures Whirl, is coming from a place of experience - not all professional, but personal, too. It takes a while, because well, it’s Whirl, but there comes a point where he approaches Rung looking a little awkward, and thanks him - Krok’s been a great help.

As for the actual competition, Rung’s forgettability and Whirl’s new reputation work against them and they leave fairly early; but every subsequent week sees Rung in the audience to watch Whirl in the group numbers. They take absolutely aaaaaaaages after that to get their shit together, but by the time the next year rolls around, Rung’s position as audience support is official and constant, thanks to his ‘dating one of the pros’ status.

So far, I’ve only got two songs for them: a charleston to Caravan Palace’s cover of Black Betty, and a Viennese waltz to the Waltz of the Hours from Coppelia.

There’s also Jazz, who’s something of a legend even among the pros, mostly for his seeming ability to match up to even the very greatest of pressures. It’s something that’s seen him through to multiple finals over the years, and this year should be no exception…

… Were it not for the slight snag in that Mirage, a Towers noble, is our That One Celebrity; who the public perceive to have had just a bit too much prior dance experience for the competition to be entirely fair. And he’s Jazz’s partner.

I see Mirage being picked on particularly because the Towers upbringing probably does involve some kind of formal dance training. So these two are really, really good, but that unfortunately means they’re just a bit too good for what’s supposed to be a half-amateur contest. A low public vote and a bad dance-off sees them eliminated just shy of the semi-final.

I really can’t explain why, but I’m fixated on the idea of their charleston being a Halloween one, to Remains of the Day from Corpse Bride, and they could have maybe a quickstep (??) to Oh My My by Summer Kennedy (thanks Clara!). They also have the dubious honour of being the only couple I've found a samba song for: another PMJ one, which is Such Great Heights. (I Dislike sambas in general cause they seem so tricky and clunky most of the time, but if anyone can pull one off it’s these two).

And then, Primus love him, there’s Soundwave, who is possibly more experienced, talented and capable than any other pro in the competition, past or present (though Jazz, despite being his usual partner, would dispute that).

Which, of course, means he gets signed up to coach the complete and utter duds. Shockwave was never really going to get far in this, being a former Senator of questionable popularity, and, as Whirl would put it, the token empurata victim. That's all before the fact that he's just… really crap at dancing. Soundwave does his best, but he doesn't exactly have much to work with, and they're eliminated second week. As poor Soundwave has sadly become a bit accustomed to over the years.

In a similar boat for the first time this year is Knock Out - which, at least at first, he is none too pleased about. The guy he gets matched with is technically an athlete - but endurance and strength have never exactly been the mainstream focus of Cybertronian sport, even if they're what Breakdown has in spades.

He also has plenty of enthusiasm and a very earnest desire to try, that Knock Out can't help but be charmed by, even if it's not enough to get them more than about four weeks in. I think it'd be really sweet if these two had an American Smooth to Wouldn't It Be Lovely from My Fair Lady.

Someone who's had a mostly-friendly rivalry with Knock Out while they've both been on the show is Rodimus, who's in that same flashy, pretty vein along with Drift (his professional partner, incidentally), but who's been willing basically from the get-go to take on whoever he needs to season by season.

In short, he's a bit of a wild card, and this year he's been handed the younger (and less famous) of the Ambus brothers. The problem in this particular case is Minimus’ chronic, painful stage fright. Dominus, in his misguided wisdom, thought trial by fire would be good for him, and laid on the peer pressure until Mims agreed, but he is very much a fish out of water at first, and it shows.

The thing is, though - most of his mistakes are a result of nerves, rather than lack of talent. The judges do comment on his natural poise during the traditional ballroom numbers, and for all that Roddy acts dumb, he's shrewd enough to work gradually on bringing Minimus out of his shell, often taking advantage of Mims’ intense focus during rehearsals.

Because he might be shaky on the performance front, but Minimus Ambus has never been known for shoddiness in his work, and doesn’t plan to start now. And Roddy uses that to his advantage - he’ll sneak in extra moves mid-week, while they’re running through a routine, and Minimus will be stood there at the end of it, having just managed something he was obviously capable of, but never would’ve imagined he could be.

A few weeks in, and he’s thriving.

Dance-wise, I'd say definitely a jive to Don’t Stop Me Now, and I like the idea of them having Rebel Rebel for their paso. I want them to make it to the final just so Rodimus can choreograph a showdance to Dare (because try as I might, I just Cannot make it fit one of the usual dance styles. Roddy’s probably had it saved up as the song he WILL showdance to in his first final). I'm thinking as well, an American Smooth to Grace Kelly by Mika cause it honestly fits them really nicely, AND Lost Coastlines could work as a quickstep song I reckon, so let's give it to the first and second in command of the LL! Idk if I Do Adore by Mindy Gledhill has quite the right tempo for a foxtrot, but I think even if it needs a bit of tweaking it’d be really nice. And another potentially really random one, but: charleston to You Give A Little Love from Bugsy Malone (for musicals week?).

Also, they totally cha cha (or maybe salsa?) to Does Your Mother Know, specifically the Christine Baranski version (and they do the Leg Thing from the scene in the movie, you know the one).

As coincidence would have it, Minimus’ own brother-in-law is also a celebrity contestant this year! Rewind has gone from Ambus arm candy to acclaimed filmmaker/journalist in his own right, and for his stint on Strictly he's been paired up with Chromedome. This guy has managed to get himself the nickname ‘Unlucky’, on account that he's fallen in love and subsequently into relationships with not one but three of his previous celebrity partners. There was never any cheating or anything otherwise untoward involved, but things always seemed to end within a year, leaving Chromedome heartbroken and never really up to his best in the show following each breakup. This should have been one such year - after Pivot - except that his new partner is so very sharp and exuberant and just plain magnetic that poor Domey finds himself drawn in regardless.

And I say poor Domey, because as mentioned above, Dominus Ambus is alive and kicking, not to mention in the audience every weekend.

Things get even more complicated when Rewind realises he’s also kinda interested in his new partner - possibly responding to Chromedome’s own feelings, no matter how hard he tries to hide them. They attract more than their fair share of judgemental social media comments, both as a result of things the tabloids dig up and from people speculating that they have a little too much chemistry on the dancefloor. Eyes are also, obviously, on Dominus each week, and he seems oddly impassive about the whole thing - but then, he always has been very guarded about his private affairs. It’s generally assumed that things will come to a head between him and Rewind soon enough, though.

Songs include a salsa to Faster by Matt Nathanson and - is it too on the nose for them to waltz to Memory during musicals week? I also want their charleston to be the PMJ cover of Chasing Pavements.

And this is soooooooooo cheesy, but I really want their rumba to be Unfaithful by Rihanna. THAT one gets a load of media attention, and it's the week following that they bow out instead of allowing the usual elimination process to go ahead.

The twist comes a couple of weeks later, after the media storm has died down; it gets stirred right back up again the moment a photo surfaces of Rewind and Dominus leaving a screening of Rewind’s latest hit… each of them holding one of Chromedome’s hands.

Some say that the reason Chromedome’s partners tended to leave him (until now) has something to do with his continued association/professional partnership with Prowl: a very old flame, but more importantly, a one-mech embodiment of the Strictly Curse.

This guy is a mess, and he gets everywhere: as well as Chromedome, it’s rumoured he was involved with Jazz at one point, and then there’s the assorted flings with his celebrity partners, including the two-year period where he made his way through both members of the same band who signed up for the show in succession... as well as the other four who didn’t.

He’s scary good technically though, and more than a little merciless, so no matter his reputation he usually manages to push his partners quite far into the competition. This year’s offering is scientist Tarantulas, who’s another bit of token representation, for the beastformers this time (my imaginary Cybertronian broadcasting network is apparently not the most progressive).

There’s no polite way to put this: I imagine they’re at each other almost immediately. Both very sharp, and driven, and inventive, and what begins as a glorious meeting of minds in initial training, ends in a quest for the nearest store cupboard. It’s not the most stable of arrangements - sure, Tarantulas is utterly smitten with Prowl’s vision and determination, but Prowl often struggles reining him in and getting him to knuckle down, and tends to resort to leaning a bit too heavily on the personal side of their relationship to get what he wants. As with Ratchet and Drift, everyone’s on tenterhooks waiting for things to blow up, but somehow they actually reach the final. How long they’ll last beyond that is anyone’s guess.

These guys have quite a few songs already. Paso to Poison by Alice Cooper (for Halloween week no less, it begins with Prowl trussed up on a giant fake web, and Tarantulas descending from the ceiling in fine accordance with Strictly tradition), jive to Jailhouse Rock, and their rumba is the PMJ cover of Blank Space, it's a Prowl song, fight me.

Also I'd like to think they could manage, like, a foxtrot to Viva La Vida but don't quote me on that. I also like the idea of a tango to Control by Halsey? And they don't have a musicals song yet so now I wanna chuck in a waltz to Sibella from Gentleman's Guide to Love and Murder since that's my current obsession.

Elsewhere we have one of the younger dancers, who's been actively mentored by Prowl and has a not-so-friendly rivalry with Rodimus… Getaway!!! (Professional partner: Skids).

He actually goes out in the first week, bless him, through no fault of his own, as for some reason the producers saw fit to match him with Thunderclash. Predictably, this was an unmitigated disaster, and for the PR team it's even more of a problem, as one of the biggest names of this season has been kicked off before the show’s had a chance to begin - apparently, the routine was so bad that even Thunderclash’s fame wasn't enough to save him. For Getaway, it means that he's now hanging around at a bit of a loose end, since he still has to be there for the group numbers. Which gives him plenty of time to cause problems for…

Last but by no conceivable means least, Tailgate! When he joins the professional troupe he seems quite naive and childish, to the point that he’s not exactly taken seriously at first (for anyone who watches the show, think how AJ and his partners get a lot of high school/teen romance themed dances despite him being in his 20s).

THEN in this current series, who should come along but an unlikely celebrity entrant who Tailgate just so happens to be a MASSIVE fan of. Cyclonus is a singer of a… somewhat acquired taste, who’s been talked into this by his agent and is frankly dreading the latin dancing but can manage a tolerable waltz from the get-go. Being the aforementioned huge fan, Tailgate sweet-talks and pulls a few strings behind the scenes to get paired up with someone other than his usual ‘youngest celeb in the competition’.

As is the format of the show, Cyclonus doesn’t find out who his partner is until the ‘introduction’ episode; he’d been hoping for someone experienced and dependable, like Soundwave, so when he finds out the result he has misgivings to say the least. Tailgate by contrast is over the moon (that his scheme worked), and it definitely shows. That nets Cyclonus a bit of negative attention right out of the gate - he’s here looking all stoic and uptight and serious while Tailgate’s practically bouncing with joy, and words like ‘ungrateful’ and ‘stuck up’ get floated around social media a lot. (Although his painfully awkward expressions do become a bit of an ongoing meme).

(The expressions thing is also a problem during performances cause like, the whole serious, intense semi-glare works perfectly for a tango or a paso, but that shit will not fly in a waltz or a cha cha, and boy do the judges let him know it).

Tailgate, for his part, is a little surprised to discover how very reticent Cyclonus is, even in rehearsals. He’s dedicated enough to learning the routines, and quite adept at the performance aspect mostly thanks to his already strong connection to music, but trying to get even a word of small talk out of him is like trying to get blood from a stone. Tailgate takes it in his stride though, and chatters enough for two people to compensate.

It doesn’t take him long to suss out that Cyclonus isn’t entirely happy to be here, and he responds to that in a similar way, scheduling in little things to do together in their breaks and taking care at first not to push Cyclonus too far outside his comfort zone choreography-wise. He also, slightly misguidedly, tries to encourage the idea of them hanging out with his own professional partner… said partner, unfortunately, being Whirl, who manages to get right up Cyclonus’ nose.

(Those two have more success hitting it off when Cyclonus walks outside on a break, only to witness Whirl tearing the latest loitering photographer a new one. From there, it’s a weird kind of forged-in-strife bond, as they realise they’re about the only two people in these studios who actively flee media attention when it appears).

(Cyclonus has found some kind of storeroom that he uses as a bolt-hole in the event of said unwanted attention; Whirl absolutely sniffs said bolt-hole out, and proceeds to mercilessly bug him on his breaks).

Obviously, Cyclonus can’t fail to be touched by Tailgate’s efforts, and his easy kindness - though again, obviously, he’d never admit it. And thus begins the saga of the judges’ glowing comments, week by week, on Cyclonus’ performance skills (despite the face) and the evident chemistry they have while they’re dancing… only for Cyclonus to clam right the fuck up the moment the music stops. The way he acts during the rehearsal segments says a lot, though, even if he barely speaks during them.

Basically, they’re the couple where my mum would be watching them shrewdly each week, nodding and going “He’s head over heels, look.” and we, her dense af family, would reply “You what???”

So this whole thing continues to (very) slowly gather momentum for several weeks until.... Enter Getaway!! Who is salty that not only was he eliminated so very quickly, but also that literally all of the press attention went to Thunderclash, leaving him hanging around completely uselessly until next year. He decides to worm his way back into the limelight by stirring up some Drama, and sets his sights on poor Tailgate as his target.

What he doesn’t expect, however (and neither does Cyclonus really) is that his meddling almost pushes Cyclonus to quit the competition altogether - not feeling like he deserves or has anything to offer to Tailgate, but also unwilling to stay and watch all this bullshit unfold, especially now that the media’s caught wind of it. Unfortunately, Cyclonus’ misgivings get into the rumour mill somehow, and by the time Tailgate hears about them, his partner has apparently already handed in his notice. He then drops Getaway like a hot potato and goes running off to quit himself (because really, these two are both disasters), and it’s up to Whirl to drag Cyclonus out of the storeroom where he’s been brooding and get these two to actually talk, goddammit!

Aaaaaaand once that’s sorted, they’re still terribly awkward about pretty much everything. But! They’re getting there!!! By the time they reach the semi-final they’re the centre of plenty of gossip, though there’s no proof of anything yet as Whirl is being fucking militant about keeping non-show cameras away from their studio. It’s in the week following that someone finally gets a photo of them: on a break, sat outside, Cyclonus kissing Tailgate’s hands.

Dances! Cha cha to Power Of Love, obviously, since that's what kicked this whole thing off. (Am I a terrible person if they jive to Only The Good Die Young?) Then there's a charleston to Boyfriend by Lou Bega, a salsa to I Want You Back, and a rumba to the PMJ version of Jolene, all choreographed post-Getaway.

And I am VERY excited because I've realised they could waltz to Love Like You. They'd also have a Viennese waltz to No One Else from Great Comet in musicals week, and I like the idea of a tango to Devil’s Backbone, and a paso to Coat of Arms by Jonathan Thulin. And possibly an Argentine tango to La Llrona, if it was arranged the way it is in Coco (“Alas, Llrona in sky blue”, I have to, guys. I have to) .

ALSO I'm going to cheat and say that Power Of Love is just one of their regular week dances, since it isn't just from a movie, as I also want a foxtrot to Beauty and the Beast because a) it’s perfect for them and b) mandatory A Day Or Forever reference.

They make it to the final, and showdance to Shrike by Hozier. AND because I am the creator of this au and My Word Is God, I’m hereby declaring that they end up as the winners. So there. :p

And congrats to anyone who actually made it this far!!!! As I said above, please send me ideas for songs, judges, anything, really! :D

#mtmte #lost light #Cygate #rodimags #dratchet #simpatico #tarnma #whrung #KOBD #taraprowl #christ theres a lot of ships in this arent there #That Dumbass Strictly AU

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