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starr-fall-knight-rise · 4 years

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HASO, “Take Me to Your Leader.”

I hope you guys are all having a great week, and I hope you enjoy the read.

Captain Kell sat in his room's boots up on the small desk space as he watched the news report filtering in from over the feed.

“Early this morning the chairwoman of the UN has announced a state of emergency and launched a formal investigation into the attempted assassination of the GA’s Admiral Vir. This all comes in response to the announcement by UN president late last night that they were unable to identify connections to any internal terrorist organizations after a woman was caught attempting to assassinate the Admiral during one of his speeches two months ago. The failed assassination was thanks to 25 year old marine Angle Ramirez who dove in front of the bullet for his commanding officer, and is now (as his family claims) fully healed and back to work. Since the incident, GA and UNSC leaders alike have encouraged Admiral Vir to stay away from earth as much as possible and remain on his ship until further notice. At a request from one of our journalists yesterday morning, he agreed to a statement from his ship the Omen.”

There was a flickering on the screen as a face appeared on the news feed. It was, somewhat from a distance, and the lens seems grainy from radiation interference, but the man seen was tall and blond and had one green eye though he was wearing an eyepatch. Captain kell thought he looked a little more lean than the admiral, but it was hard to tell with all the distortion.

When the man began to speak there was something missing in the voice as well, but it would hardly be noticeable.

There was a knock at his door and he quickly threw his feet down from the desk walking over to throw the door open and step outside into the hall. Angelo was waiting for him there and without saying a word the two of them walked down the long hallway and to the planning room.

Mace was still discussing with some of the other men and women there., and Geea and Beatrice were still loitering at the back.

Captain Kell couldn’t keep the distaste from his thoughts as he looked at the two of them. There was a prime example of toxic love if he had ever seen it. The two were clearly partnered or, at the very least, dating, but he had never seen two people who enjoyed pissing each other off as much as they did. WIth them there was plenty of jealousy and mistrust to go around. And as for Geea’s views on Drev religion, well they were backwards to say the least.

He had seem the same sort of fanaticism in certain shamed drev generals after the war, radical, and suicidal almost in nature.

She had no real idea what the meaning of the new law was.

As soon as he walked in the two women turned to look up at him, their arms crossed over their chests. Beatrice was playing with some big ass knives like that was likely to impress anyone, but really all he saw was some crazy asshole whose parents probably didn’t give her enough attention when she was a kid.

He sad down at the table.

Geea leaned forward expectantly.

“Setting course/”

He turned his head to look up at her, “Yes, setting course to whatever cesspit of corruption spawned you.”

Geea pulled back, “Excuse me, but we hired you for a job, not for insults.” One of her hands reached for the weapons on her belt, but Noble stepped forward spear at the ready. He was a good foot taller than she was, and he knew for a fact he was probably a better warrior. He had a natural talent for it.

He leaned back in his seat, “You hired me for a job and now expect me to fling my dead corpse at the Omen like my ship is going to be able to handle that.” he shook his head, “You hired me which means we are going to do this MY way, which means we are going to do it quiet, and we are going to do it proper. That means NONE of this comes back on me. If we show up at the omen right now and bust down their doors, we are going to get atomized by two platoons of marines and an entire clan of Drev. LEts not also forget that the Admiral Isn’t exactly going to be easy to just kill.” Captain Kell waved a hand wildly, “He has a fucking Drev SAINT on his crew, that is hardly something I think I want to deal with.” he shook his head, “No no, this is going to take me a lot longer to plan, and it is going to require a lot more material that I don’t already have.”

Geea bristled in impatience and indignation.

“I am not going to throw my life away for this mission, and if you want to push that, than I will throw you out of the airlock faster than you can say, “please captain, please I was just being a whiny little bitch.” The room was silent around Geaa’s seething, but he paid her no mind. She didn’t exactly scare him.

She was a minor player in the black market at best, and the way she moved told him she was no great shakes as a warrior either. Probably used to fighting humans so developed a habit of using brute force to overcome them with her height. As for Beatrice, he had a feeling that she made up for skill mostly in unpredictability and sheer fury.

Anyone can look scary if they scream real loud and flail their knives at you.

The way their crew behaved was enough to tell him as much. No one on the ship really respected them, and Geea ruled mostly out of ear, her men were not as loyal to her as she thought they might be, and he had a feeling that, for the right price, he could buy them off if he wanted.

He rested his palms flat against the table before him, “You understand if I am going to do this I am going to need all the right equipment. You want the man gone but I want it to look like some freak disappearance The last thing my crew needs is the long arm of the GA down on our heads.” he shook his head, “No we need to do this strategically, and we need to do this quietly, and we are going to start by getting the tech we need to pull this off without being seen.”

He turned to look at the two of them, “I am assuming that you two know where I can get those sorts of things…. Under the radar.”

Geea crossed her arms over her chest, “And YOU don’t. You are a pirate after all.”

“Yeah, I generally tend to STEAL from other people and sell it to middle men. I don’t generally tend to buy any of the goods.”

Geea stood, waiting for a long moment before finally uncurling her hands in annoyance, “Fine, Fine, but we make this quick.”

He nodded his head once and motioned her to continue on following her up and to the bridge where he watched her set a course.

He tried to make it look like he wasn’t watching her, but in the back of his mind he was quickly memorizing the coordinates that he saw appearing on screen. Granted he did have a bot installed that should copy it for him, but you can never trust technology to do exactly what you expect it to do.

When she was done, he moved forward and slid into the Captain’s chair, familiar with the machine as he prepared it for a warp sequence.

Despite him being very familiar with this ship, more than one time he found himself accidentally reaching for controls that weren’t there. He cursed his muscle memory, though he forced the ship into doing what he wanted, alerting the crew to the imminent warp before he could accidentally kill one of them by sheer freak accident.

Geea watched him from behind.

He knew she didn’t much like him.

That was fine by him. She wasn’t exactly the kind of person that he would want to be liked by.

They came out of warp a few moments later with a hard lurch through the internal dampeners were doing their job to avoid smearing him across the front windscreen like window pizza.

She walked up to stand beside him and rested her hand of the chair, the gesture reminded him of someone else, and it felt wrong to have her do it, though he tried not to show his discomfort.

“Just beyond that asteroid.”

Captain Kell raised an eyebrow. This was all very interesting. Here he was thinking they would end up back on Noctopolis, for he had been sure that that was the hub of all pirate activity in the universe, but he guessed not. As they came around another asteroid, his eyes fell on a large chunk of rock that must have been over ten miles wide in his shi[s estimation, and from here he could already see the hive of docking ports and extending protrusions built into the rock.

He blinked in awe at the glittering blue lights and the hive of activity surrounding the massive asteroid.

Ships flew in and out through open docking bays landing here and there on extending arms. Good were moved by silent crane arms through space as add ons were constantly being made by men in space suits scurrying over the rock. The palace was…. Amazing at the same time it was an absolute disaster of engineering. You would never see something like tat made by the GA or UNSC, but from here he could see plenty of influence from all parties.

As they flew closer, they were absolutely dwarfed by the massive rock, and it’s protruding arms. All around him he saw human building techniques, and Tesraki logos stamped on almost everything as they moved forward. Massive viewing screens were all around them doing advertisements on things would would never have seen on a location run by UNSC or GA interference.

The one to his right was some sort of bootleg pill for weightloss, while, on the other side, someone was advertising some kind of flamethrower. The screen above that was giving the specs for the newest design in railgun technology.

His eyes were wide as he stared at all of it, and his heart began to race fast inside his chest.

Now THIS was awesome.

Being a space pirate sure did have its perks.

Over the radio feed static rolled in and out as the broadcasts from the different advertisements tried to pick up his frequency.

But one voice came in clear and crisp above all others, “Unknown aircraft. Identify yourself.”

“This is the Infinity requesting docking.”

There was a momentary pause over the other end of the line, as their ship was likely scanned before, “Docking permission granted, please proceed to hanger E docking space 6.”

He did as ordered, flying his ship down to the entrance of the docking bay, where he was ordered to slow, and then a large mechanical hand grabbed them around the hull and pulled them further into the asteroid.

They were dragged inside a ways, though he could definitely have flown in himself, and eventually sat down on E6.

There was a sharp jolt as they made connection with the airlock, and he stood rom his spot, turning and walking past Geea and towards the cargo bay where his men were waiting. He looked at them each in turn, making slow eye contact with them.

“You know what to do?”

There was a nod as they recognized the true words behind his eye contact, and they quickly moved into pairs of two discussing which piece of “equipment” they were looking for. It likely wouldn’t take them long, but he didn’t expect that part of their mission to take that long anyway.

Following after them, he was accompanied by Geea, Beatrice and Noble as they walked out into the tube and finally, into the absolutely massive atrium of the hidden Pirate city.

He had to stop, he just couldn’t help it, it was like nothing he had ever seen before, and his mind just couldn’t wrap itself around the massive room full of people and billboards and holograms. There were railed transports on the floor, and there were vendors selling strange food at every turn. It might have been any normal metropolitan area if it weren’t for the sort of advertisements for weapons, and strange illegal creams.

There was one place that was advertising body modifications….. With a ten percent discount if you got the limb removed with them as well.

On another wall someone was advertising a new mechanical eye. The technology hadn’t been released to the public yet, but the features…. Well the features were amazing. He found himself dragged in and rendered mostly stunned. They had him hooked by the first demonstration.

He wanted a cool new mechanical eye.

But Geea grabbed him by the shoulder and shook him, “Aren’t we supposed to be doing something.”

Angrily he frowned and held up a hand turning on her with his eyes narrowed.

He prodded her in the chest in a show of dominance towards her. Letting her know that he wasn’t afraid of being insulted or intimidated by someone like her. To him she was nothing.

“Look, I’m not stupid. I know that this genius little assasination attempt wasn’t your idea, so right here and right now, you better take me to the asshole who set you up for this is you can color me gone. I don’t work through third parties.” He prodded her in the chest again with one finer, “I don’t trust them.”

The Drev stared down at him with absolute rage and consternation.

“Don’t touch me.” She hissed.

He prodded her again, “Just try and stop me.”

She reached for his hand, but he caught her by the wrist and twisted it. He knew the way Drev joints worked, so he knew exactly what NOT to do. She howled in pain and Beatrice moved forward to help, but a spear to her throat by Noble was enough to stop her in her tracks.

“Show me your boss, or your girlfriend becomes a kabob, your choice.”

There was a sharp growl and finally Geea agreed, taking her hand back with some measure of pain and annoyance, “Fine, fine…. Follow me.”

She stalked away grumpily and Noble kept an eye on beatrice as the were led further into the station.

The captain kept his head turning this way and that distracted by the bright and colorful ads, advertising things that he wanted, and some things that he didn’t.

To his surprise, more than once he saw advertisements for Iron eye Knockoffs. He would have dared get a procedure done on this back alley asteroid, but it was still quite shocking. This air of shock continued along with him as he was led down through the darkness and into the tight passages and tunnels of the Asteroid.

Eventually Geea stopped in front of a door and knocked once.

The camera above the door whirred and looked down at them. Geea waved to it and with a hiss it finally opened.

They were led into a small waiting room with pristine little couches as if he was expecting to see a doctor at any moment, but after a few minutes of sitting another door opened and they were allowed through into the next room.

Geea told him to stay put as she was led behind yet another door.

Not to be left Behind, Beatrice followed after, giving him the opportunity to slip over to the door and quickly deploy a small circular camera which used technology unknown to him to see through the door.

It streamed directly into his fake eye as he closed the real one, and glanced around the room.

He could hear voices, and enhanced the sound of his implants.

“Did you get the assassin.”

“Yes, but there have been some, hiccups.”

“What might that be?”

“He is insisting on meeting his employers.”

The voice seemed almost bored with the idiot pirates, “Then let him meet someone, he doesn’t have to know. Jerah over there will do just fine.”

He turned his fake eye towards the source of the voice falling on some sort of hologram. He quickly looked up just as Geea was turning back towards the door.

He managed to make it up to the person’s face, a Rundi, how str-

Then he froze in shock and disbelief.

Geea reached towards the door, and it was only with a swift movement he was able to pull his camera away in time an leap from the door as she stepped from the room.

He tried to keep the horror and shock on his face in check as he was led into the room to meet his “employer.”

He didn’t care though.

He knew the truth.

There was plenty of evidence on that camera. Evidence that the chairwoman of the GA had ordered his assassination.

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bazpitchs-violin · 3 years

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i've decided to post my lil national competition piece cause i filmed it yesterday and im sad im done with it so uhhh

(it's long sorry :/)

i have nothing.

hope is for optimists

dreams are for children

goals are for those with potential

desires are for confident people

wants are human

needs are too

and somehow i ended up with few

and those i do

my best to deny

even when they beg, i lie

tired of being a slave to human needs

wanting to distance myself from the notion

that i am human indeed

i run away

i run on as little sleep

as little water

as little food

as possible

I indulge only when forced

i’m the dandelion growing between slabs of concrete, not the orchid displayed on the table, or the rose with a screen and a glass dome to be kept under at night.

i take what i can get

i don’t seek out the rain

which means i don’t ask

my skin is starved, my senses dull

my music is an escape

but also a hand to hold mine

at night

or early in the morning

when i should be asleep, buried in blankets, blissfully slipping away from reality, i’m awake

i’m awake and floating, gone away, gone awry, dematerialising between lines of melody and harmony, letting the lyrics choke the reality out of me, while forcing the truth down my throat, searing in my lungs

i’m built of lyrics and quotes, they ricochet in my head and rattle in my rib cage, pinging in the empty space where my heart should be

i’m a precarious collection of other people’s words mashed together haphazardly, and glued with tears

glued with trauma and memories, days that are locked behind iron doors and others that are burned into the wooden frame

a hundred times i watch the movie, older than me, older than the idea of me, older than even my parents relationship

a hundred times the same lines stick to me, choking me with emotion, wrapping me in truth. truth like a blanket that always leaves your feet cold. truth that is mumbled by his sweaty toothed madman.

truth that hides in his brown eyes, layered under the pain as he looks at his father, the last string in him pulled taut, about to be cut

those seven words, spilling out of him, run over me like scalding water

i was good. i was really good.

they carve themselves in my mind.

they’re scalded across my chest

etched

in every inch of my skin,

red and burning, bleeding out of me, because while in him it’s his last truth, in me it’s a lie

i was good. i was really good.

it seems more and more like the diems are not mine to carpe

or maybe i never tried

i only ever wanted his seven words to feel just as mine

i try so hard to be good. to be better. to be other. to be what they want, to be him.

i have a hundred different versions of myself that i sift through, change like costumes, because i am not fully palatable to anyone

not even myself

i want to look in the mirror and see him

i put on the green sweater and lose myself in favour of him

we’re so similar if i look hard enough, the same brown eyes, hiding pain, breaking from expectations, and yet, not the same

sure, some of his looks are mine

the pain in him is the same as mine

the way his voice cracks and the look of soft resignation, i echo constantly

in the end, i’m like him in a circus mirror.

warped.

the mirror creases me,

stretchmarks

it’s scratched,

scars

it’s wrinkled like a waterlogged book

widened

angled,

the lighting makes us all the more different

i look at myself, this warped version of him, tears shining in the dim lighting, my face so filled with sorrow it pulls into the fake smile i’ll wear tomorrow,

every i’m fine sticking in my throat because i’m a liar. that’s all i am really.

i’m him, without all of the qualities that made him loved

without the allure that makes him my comfort

without all the good parts.

watered down, diluted, knock off, bootleg

a wrong version of him

and a different version of him, years later, a version i know his father would love, and my mother would adore,

“Living Is Hard.”

and it is.

damn near impossible.

every day i slip further and further away, i’m wilting

the sun is always weak when it gets to me. but i take what i can get

the bowl almost empty. the water no longer running warm and clean, but i take what i can get

the expectation is to be self sufficient and independent

to need her less

to want her less

i am expected to be a grown up

when really i am a child

when really i can’t reach

i have spent my whole life on my tip toes,

reaching

trying

grasping

feeling around desperately for what is hidden on that top shelf

just out of my reach

pushed way to the back

but i’m always falling short

always failing, barely missing the point

never able to pull it forward

never able to hold it in my hands, to get a grip on it, it always slips

and it gets pushed back further

i’m teetering

tumbling

towering

it’s terrifying

maybe i could reach if i jumped a little higher

if i were just a little taller

if i were just a little smarter, if i were just a little better

if i found some way to reduce this weight on me, holding me down

a hundred expectations

laced together like twigs

woven in a crown

resting upon my head

placed precariously, this time by my own two shaking hands

ready to be crushed by the weight of millions of expectations

but i inherited this crown

it was fixed upon my brow, before i could know what its weight meant

and what was expected of me because of it

as i grow, the crown does too

berries and flower buds

heavier and heavier

i had to take it off, i couldn’t handle the weight

and now its back on

a final attempt, reaching again

for better

for good.

my face is illuminated in the moonlight, radiating off of the silver snow

i’m shivering from the cold

i was good, i was really good.

(fun fact: originally, the last line of this was "i was good, i was really good, but not good enough to grow old")

#dead poets society #yeah i stuck random dps references in this #what ab it #huh???#i should be studying for finals #but nope #deal with my angsty little poem #i memorised this #and performed it #what's wrong with me #at least i cut out the bit about daddy issues #but yeah #lmao pls be nice i poured a lot of myself into this #slick said it gave them chills when i read it to them so #anyway #we'll see what happens ig lmaoo

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mattzerella-sticks · 4 years

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Acutely (coda to 15x13 ‘Destiny’s Child’, Dean/Cas, 2.5k)

ao3 link

Jack said he's sorry, after getting his soul back.

Jack said he's sorry, and he's looking at Dean. They're all looking at Dean.

Jack said he's sorry, and Dean can't take it. It's too much. Like a frog thrown into a boiling pot he hops out, jumping out from the room towards safety. Doing his best not to succumb to the pain.

He can't hide forever, let the wounds fester. It's too much to deal with on his own, though. Can someone help him through it?

It’s no secret, where he hides. Where he ran away to after Jack broke down in an apology. Overwhelmed by the sorrow in the younger boy’s voice; his remorse for actions Dean hadn’t mentioned in so long. Dean barely made it before his knees buckled, collapsing on his bed instead of the floor. Face pressed against the pillow Dean counted his breaths while ignoring the heavy lump sitting in his throat.

He loses track after seventy-five, mumbling ‘one… two… three… four… five…’ over and over until he felt like his feet were farther from the edge than they had been. As he lifts his head, Dean takes stock of himself. Grimaces at how sweat dampens both his shirts, dark fabric clinging annoyingly underneath oppressive denim. And as the knot unwound in his stomach, Dean realizes he hadn’t eaten yet. Hunger gnaws at his awareness, begging for attention. Thinking about food, though, guides his paths towards the kitchen and – ultimately – Jack, again.

There’s not much of an appetite left after that.

Instead he blindly throws off his outer layer, then his undershirt. Bends, clawing at his laces and when they unravel, he yanks them and his socks off, too. Discards his jeans by flinging them into some far corner. Red boxer-briefs are all that remain, for the moment. In the next second Dean reaches for a set of pajamas. Picks the set at the top of the pile. Cowboys riding bucking broncos on the pants while lasso script spells out ‘Save a Horse’ on the shirt. As he pulls it overhead, he hears something shift nearby. Turning, Dean finds Cas watching him from the hallway.

“Crap,” he hisses, tugging the shirt down. Cheeks burning under Cas’s intense gaze, “Ever hear of knocking?” Instincts say he should cover himself, but midway through wrapping arms around his midsection Dean realizes what a ridiculous notion that is. Actions aborted Dean’s fingers twitch before they retake his shirt’s hem. Twisting it as the awkward silence continues. “Cas?”

This breaks Cas from whatever trance he fell under. Cas steps into his room, “Sorry, Dean, you left your door open.”

“Right…” If his hands weren’t busy strangling fabric one would be rubbing a hole into the back of his neck. “I – uh, must’ve forgotten.” Dean finally fights back the static drowning his mind, releasing his shirt hem. “What uh… what’re you doing here?”

“I came to check on you.”

Sweet, but totally despicable. Cas’s earnest tone easily overpowers his crumbling defenses, making the flush across his skin deepen. Lips pursed, Dean dips his eyes so he won’t fall prey to the deadliest of his angel’s weapons. Angel blades have nothing on those baby blues. “Thanks,” he coughs, shrugging, “but I wasn’t the one having a full breakdown five feet from the cookie cereal…” He sits down once more, at the foot of his bed, squeezing his knees. “How is Jack, by the way?”

“He’s calmed, somewhat,” Cas tells him, slowly pacing Dean’s room. Picks up Dean’s stray button-down, loosely folding it while he talks. “Sam had a brilliant idea of taking him for a drive.”

“A drive? Is that allowed?”

“Well, Billie didn’t appear and tell us no….” He sets the shirt on Dean’s dresser, claiming the nearby chair for his own. “They left awhile ago. Not sure when they’ll be back.”

“Awhile, huh?” Dean snorts, arching a stern brow. “And you’re only visiting me now?”

Cas stiffens, “Yes. You see – um…” Stuttering, Cas stalls for time as he thinks up an answer.

Tension leaks out of Dean’s shoulders watching him, seeing his angel go through human motions. Dragging a hand through his hair and pulling at his tie, both alight a familiar warmth in his heart. He snuffs that flame a second later, knowing how dangerous it would be if he let it keep. “Kidding,” Dean sighs, smiling, “I’m glad you waited. Probably wouldn’t have been this… chatty?”

“Of course…” Cas says, nodding, “I figured you’d need some time alone… to – to sort through things.”

He’s being generous. Dean used all his strength to not remember the pain stricken across Jack’s face. The wound is still so fresh, Jack ripping off the scabs with a frenzy caused by his soul’s return. Mary’s death hurting like it happened yesterday. “Maybe you should’ve given me five or ten more minutes, then,” he chuckles, tapping at his temple, “still a mess up here.”

“Hmm…”

“Hmm what?”

“Oh, nothing –“

“Bullshit, Cas,” Dean leans forward, a more devilish expression on his face, “C’mon. Tell me what’s going on in your mind.”

“Nothing you probably don’t already know,” Cas says, “I’m… trying to wrap my head around this whole day. Jack getting his soul back… it’s remarkable. But also, troubling. How could that even be possible and – and will it last?”

“Don’t think about it too much, man,” he says, “what happened with Jack it’s… it’s a gift. Probably one of the few we’ve ever gotten that’s come with no strings attached. A win.”

“Have we ever gotten a win like that?”

It’d be so simple. Unfortunately, Dean chomps off the head of his one-word confession. Swallows the three-letters alongside all his other feelings. By the time the corpse of it decomposes in his stomach, Dean realizes it’s been too long since he last spoke. Cas waiting, staring at him. An awkward chuckle bubbles forth, his breath reeking of ashen sincerity. “Bout time we got one, then, don’t you think?”

He concedes, mouth thinning in a cunning smile. “I suppose we are… but enough about what I think.” Dean’s lips pinch tight. “I think we’ve delayed the inevitable conversation. Don’t you?”

“No,” he says, “we can delay it some more. Like… what was up with those bootleg versions of us?” Dean scoffs, “I bet that other me doesn’t even know what pie tastes like… too busy cramming caviar down his throat.”

“You might enjoy caviar. I hear it’s very popular?”

“Caviar’s only popular because it’s expensive,” Dean tells him, “and all those rich dudes spent too much money on it to hate it, so they lie and convince others it’s good and it’s an awful, self-servicing cycle.”

“I didn’t know you had such strong opinions on caviar?”

“I’ve got strong opinions on just about everything…” Dean makes the mistake of glancing up, catching sight of Cas’s judgmental bend of his brow. “But you don’t wanna hear any of those…”

“Not right now, no…” Cas stands, drifting towards his door. “I guess you were right, you do need more time by yourself. Perhaps in the morning –“

“Shit, Cas, I’m sorry,” he says, rising, grabbing his elbow. The touch sears even through the jackets and shirt; Dean’s grasp on it firms, savoring it. “Y’know how… how tough this has got to be for me, right?” His throat cracks on the last word, eyes glistening. He feels the tears brimming behind them, pooling, waiting for release.

Cas sighs, dropping any pretense of exiting. “I do,” he says, hand hovering over Dean’s briefly. Considering if he should. A short argument, as it gently embraces his hand; the one chaining Cas to him. “That’s why I want you to speak. Free yourself of the burden… let me help carry it with you.”

“You don’t have to, Cas,” Dean says, “You’ve got your own things, worries t’deal with –“

“That won’t stop me.”

Stubborn. A double-edged sword that makes up the arsenal of Cas’s traits, all weapons Dean would gladly throw himself on.

Cas quiets, then, waiting for Dean and his response. Words were unneeded. Dean can decipher all he thinks by looking into his angel’s eyes. Captivating, whether in the harsh fluorescents of his bedroom or the soft moonlight of an abandoned church. They always make his head dizzy, thoughts unspooling like Dean drank half a bottle of whiskey or smoked three joints. The more he stays the course, the worse it gets. He nearly forgot hellhounds were baring down on them, Sam their last defense against the creatures, because Cas’s eyes hold a magic that quells any fear or worry gnawing at Dean’s senses.

“Dean?”

“It hurt being around him,” Dean whispers his admittance, inching closer. Chests almost pressed together. Noses dangerously close. His toes practically climbing atop Cas’s dress shoe. “I hate that that’s true but… it is. Because as glad as I was to see the kid still kicking it… I’m just reminded of her.” Cas’s thumb rubs a comforting circle into his knuckles, Dean dropping his gaze there. “Reminded of what he did. How he just didn’t… didn’t get it, y’know. Couldn’t tell that it was bad. He – there was still this… this disconnect. And after he came back I could tell he’d look at me and try to find the words t’apologize but they were never there. And without them, we’d never move past it. He’d still be hurting, and so would I… Which sucks because – because I know you think of him as your son, but y’know… I think of him as mine, too –“

“I like to think of him as ours, Dean.”

“Yes, well…” he clears his throat, tongue wetting his lips as he recovers. Dean chooses tactical evasion, ignoring Cas’s comment and moving on. “He’s like… my second chance. He is a second chance. A second coming, really – sorta like Jesus –“ He pauses, gaze darting towards Cas’s face. “That doesn’t matter. I just… I wanted to make things right with Jack, but he didn’t know how – and I sure didn’t know how. So we were circling each other, doing nothing. I could feel things festering. The happiness that came after Jack’s return began fading; instead of relief there’d be dread whenever he walked into a room. Got it into my head that things’d never get any better, and there was no way of fixing this rift between us.”

“But with his soul, he finally understands,” Cas says, “he’s apologized. That’s what you wanted?”

“It is. I… yeah,” Dean shudders, neck suddenly weak. It bends, Dean’s chin saved from touching his neck by Cas’s forehead supporting his. There noses are beside one another, lips a breath apart. “I know it’s for the best but… seeing him cry, all I wanted to do was hug him. Let him know it’d be all right. Except I ran I… I couldn’t say anything. He was hurting and that – that made me hurt even worse. And then I felt glad he could feel hurt… it sorta spiraled from there.”

Cas hums, Dean’s mouth vibrating with the note. “You were overwhelmed,” Cas says, “there’s no reason for you to be ashamed.”

“Yes, there is.” Dean scowls, “I’m middle-aged, can gank a monster twice my size without blinking, but the second a situation gets too touchy-feely I stomp on the gas and speed through all the red lights.” While Dean talked about Jack, a highlight reel of all his shortcomings playing on a giant screen in his mind. Times where Dean’s emotions short-circuited. Fried his circuits, caused him more pain than necessary. Many of those scenes feature a recurring character, shaped like a man in a trench coat. It flickers out, leaving Dean with a blank slate. That fades, too, and Cas’s face is there.

“It’s not fear, Dean. Not at all,” he says. Protest swells, but with a sharp look from Cas it wanes. “Trust me, as someone who knows you… knows your soul, you – you are not afraid of feelings. Not at all.” He smiles, Dean leaning back for the full effect. Blessed by heavenly light. “On the contrary,” Cas continues, “You embrace your emotions. Unfortunately… sometimes you feel too much and that – that can be particularly difficult to manage. I remember when I was human, sometimes the smallest of ripples in my heart caused me great pains. Something modest like being cold or hungry… or in pain, were too much for me to express. Your capacity for feelings, your intelligence and understanding it’s… fantastic. But there are limits. We all have them. You feel too much sometimes that you cannot express yourself or even deal with them.”

Dean’s tears prick at the corners of his eyes, dangling. Still unshed. “It does feel like that,” he says, “Sometimes it’s… like there’s a highway, and it’s rush hour. Traffic on – on all sides. No one’s moving, and I’m behind the wheel and I want to go but I can’t and I… I get so angry that I can’t.” He lets go of Cas, slipping from his loose grip. “S’what I’m feeling right now.”

Cas accepts Dean’s need for distance, hands retreating into his pockets. “And what I’m here, to tell you, is this. You might be behind the wheel, but you’re hardly alone in that car. Sam’s there. Jack’s there. And I am most certainly there.”

Dean nods, wiping a hand down his face. “Thank you, Cas. I… needed this.”

“I’m glad to be of service, then.” Cas’s tone fell, a discordant pluck of the harp that triggered Dean’s worry. Before he could ask about it, his angel floats away. “I should let you get your rest. Today was exhausting…”

Halfway out the door, Dean stops him. “Cas, wait!”

“Yes?”

Standing there, framed by his doorway, waiting for Dean to continue with shining eyes, Dean thinks his angel never looked more gorgeous. And he wants to tell him. Despite how the words stick in his throat, the sweat dripping from his forehead, and how his feelings might be received, he wants to tell him. He wants to tell him everything. Finally.

That flame from earlier, snuffed out, relights. Burns hotter than Baby’s engine gunning down the highway. Ballooning, spreading through his veins and disorienting him. The room spins, his vision blurs, but Cas stays clear and firm. It’s right there, on the tip of his tongue –

“Yes, Dean?”

He’s cold. Doused by an untimely thought that quells any of his passionate desires, leaving him charred, ashen, and helpless.

Dean notices the frown lines around his mouth. The way his eyes drooped in a way they’ve never done. Shadows stretch across his body, slithering, hiding most of his expression from Dean. But he senses a tiredness there that, on Cas, seems foreign.

The moment passes. It wouldn’t feel right, anyway.

“Just…” his face hurts from the tight grin he forces, “I go both ways.” Blushing, he amends his statement. “I mean, I don’t have to give you all my baggage – I can… I can also help you carry some of yours, if you’d like?”

Cas tilts his head, light revealing a gentle smile. “I’d like that. Night, Dean.”

“Night Cas…”

A closing door never felt more ominous.

Dean stares at it, chewing on his lip. Chest aching, heart beating against it with the force of a storm wreaking havoc. He walks towards the switch, flipping it off. Bathing the room in shadows. Making it easier. “Cas,” he says aloud, looking ahead into the endless darkness. “I love you. After this is all over, and we don’t have any more fights heading our way… I’d like for you to stay. With me. And we can have the life we both deserve. I just… I want you to know what I’m fighting for. It’s not the world. It’s you. It’s us.”

He slips under the covers. Talking to empty air didn’t make the feelings disappear, or easier in dealing with. But it’s a start.

Maybe he’ll do better in the morning.

#destiel #destiel fanfic #destiel coda #dean winchester #castiel #supernatural #spn #spn15 #15x13 destiny's child #better late than never lol

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airasora · 3 years

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Thoughts on the SIX musical

I watched the SIX musical yesterday after months of being on and off addicted to the soundtrack. I wound up removing my camera and mic for the stream and just chatted with the others in the chatroom.

But someone legit wanted to hear my thoughts on the musical, so I’m gonna write something here :D

A little background story on how I came across the musical to begin with.

I first listened to the song All you wanna do when I came across an animatic with it. I at first thought this was a song from some teen rom-com drama musical perhaps. It sounded like that to me, until we of course ended up with the beheading at the end of the animatic... xD

After that, I wound up binging some different animatics, And then I simply listened to the soundtrack in one go.

Like with a lot of musical etc. I had a fairly good idea what the musical was about after listening to the full soundtrack. I wound up watching a bootleg of the British cast (the OG West End one I think) and it seemed fun enough. Nothing spectacular, I just listened to the soundtrack again after that.

But THEN I came across the American cast and BOY did that make a huge difference for me. This is personal opinion, obviously, but the British cast just wasn’t as entertaining to look at. The American cast had a lot more body language and facial expressions, and the line deliveries just worked way better. It reminded me how an actor/actress can really make or break a role, cause they were saying the same lines, obviously, but this bootleg made me actually want to WATCH it.

So, let’s talk about the songs

The beginning song Ex-wives is an amazing introduction to the wives, the play and overall concept. Let me also add that I know nothing about The Tudors outside of this play, so don’t expect my thoughts ot be based on any knowledge I have on The Tudors cause I got ZERO xD

A small note here, there’s only ONE joke in the entire mucal I’m not a fan of. That’s when the queens are talking about “history” and one of them goes; “Or as we like to call it... her-story.” It’s the cringiest thing I’ve ever heard. It’s one of many verbal jokes about history versus his-story, so I get the joke, it’s just a little too much for me personally.

Let me quickly skip over to one of my favorite queens Catherine of Aragon. Her introduction is my favorite in the show. I really enjoy a lot of the others (honestly there isn’t a bad introduction to any of them) but this is the introduction I’ve practically got memorized.

The word-play on her going “okay” as she lists the many ways her faith has been tested is brilliant. She basically goes ok after every paragraph and then, by the end, when she talks about how Henry wanted to annul their marriage so he could marry Anne Boleyn, she goes no way instead, which is the title of her song. It’s a fun little quip, and the song is my favorite in terms of sassiness and charisma, in my opinion. It’s the one I have trouble not singing out loud, when I’m listening to it at work.

After Catherine of Aragon, there is Anne Boleyn and the introduction is, once again, absolutely hilarious. The other queens start asking CA about AB, saying AB is the famous, controversial one people actually care about. And, yeah, I gotta admit, I had only ever heard of Anne Boleyn prior to this musical, so I can’t argue with that xD

The queens give AB such a cool introduction, and when they move to the side to reveal Anne Boleyn, she’s just sitting on the stairs looking and (if we’re talking about the American cast) laughign at something on her phone. In the British version, she’s just being quiet and absorded into her phone. Again, I think the American version is funnier. The woman who plays AB is fucking hilarious to look and listen to. She apolgizes, gestures to start the music, takes a selfie with her tongue sticking out, and then she starts singing. I immediately love this woman xD

AB’s song is called Don’t lose ur head... Get it? Cause she lost her head. Yeah, this is the type of dark humor the show has and I’m fucking loving it. This song was my favorite for a long time, and it’s the song that makes me wish I could actually sing cause I’d love performing this song one way or another xD It’s the song with the most consistent story-telling, having a clear beginning and end. Some of the lines and jokes in this song also really hits the nail on the head. There’s so many memoral jokes in this song alone that I can’t possibly list them all, it’d take too long xD

After her song, AB insists she should be the winner of “Who had the most bullshit to deal with” contest that the queens have got going on. CA disagrees, obviously, and then it’s Jane Seymour’s turn. The other queens laugh at her, reminding her that she herself said that she was the only one Henry “truly love” and she was also the queen that gave him the song he so desperately wanted.

The entire segment with Jane is a lot less funny and a lot more emotional. Which isn’t a bad thing, but this song and this character is the only one where the song and introduction is saddening. The song Heart of Stone is an amazing ballad, very emotional and I love that they took this idiom and changed it into something profound, strong and positive in comparison to what heart of stone usually means. Her love for Henry is solidified, and no matter what natural disasters there are, stone always prevails.

That’s a very bittersweet message, and I love it. The show is back on track with its morbid humor though when JS by the end asks; “What hurts more than a broken heart?” and AB approaches her and says; “A severed head.”

It’s a major whiplash after that cause we get straight into the House of Holbein song. This song is a mix of German folk music and electronic dance, and it’s hilarious from start to end. Not only do the queens perform this song wearing ruffles, singing with the fakest German accents I’ve ever heard and dance moves that make Pinocchio look more human than they do. It’s a hilarious song that, unfortunately, took me some time to warm up to.

It was one of the songs I skipped while listening to the soundtrack for a while. Not because I disliked the song, but because it was the only song that wasn’t about any of the queens themselves. They all have their solo and then a couple of group songs, but this one is more of a joke towards the time period and the absurd things they did for the sake of beauty like lead in the makeup and using urine to brighten blonde hair.

I’ve warmed up to the song since I got to see it at the actual musical. Having the visuals with it made it a lot funnier to me, also the actual soundtrack song has cut off the entire tinder segment and that’s also a really funny joke. The queens present two different “options” that Henry had back at the time and it’s show-cased as a tinder like and dislike situation with the options having cringey bios along with posing as stereotypical tinder profile pics. It’s a lot of fun.

Anna of Cleves is the only queen who didn’t just have a dialogue/monologue to introduce her character, but also that Hause of Holbein song. But that’s also why her monologue is shorter than the others, but not at all less funny. I’m imagining that when the creators of the show were writing the lines and lyrics, and they got to Anna of Cleves and had to “explain” why she should win the contest of who had to deal with the most BS... they realized it was impossible. Anna of Cleves is the biggest loser of the contest, cause her destiny was to be sent to her own goddamn palace with more money than she could spend in a lifetime and not a single man around to tell her what to do with it.

AC was picked by Henry due to a painting by Hans of Holbein, but supposedly, Anna didn’t look as good in real life, so Henry basically sent her away, divorced her, and bribed her into staying away from him an that’s why she got a palace of her own in Richmond.

So, how do you go about introducing this queen who CLEARLY had very little BS to deal with in comparison to the other queens? You have her try to make it sound tragic, but it doesn’t work. AC’s song Get Down is one big “fuck you, I’m hot and rich now” moment and it’s amazing. This song is the most “groovy” of the songs, having a heavy hip hop feeling. This is the song I’d like to DANCE to the most. This song is also funny, but that’s not the major focus of it. It’s much more of an independent song about a woman who is a Wienerschnitzel and not an English flower, and it’s fucking badass.

After the song is over, the queens comment that AC’s life didn’t sound difficult at all. AC agrees, saying she probably won’t win then. “Oh, well. Back to the palace.” What an amazing ending to the best loser in the world.

And then it’s Catherine Howard’s turn, nicknamed Kitty by the fandom AND by Catherine herself back in the 1500. This was the song that introduced me to the musical, and it’s exceptionally creepy. It describes Kitty’s “romantic” life from she was 13 to 19 when she was beheaded for treason and promiscuity outside of wedlock.

No lie, Kitty is easily the queen who had the worst life. She may not be the one who had the most BS to deal with from the king himself, but she had the saddest life of them all, having been sexsually abused and taken advantage of by four different men from she was 13 to 19. And then she was beheaded.

Poor fucking girl.

Her introduction is basically the queens saying she was the least relevant Catherine, and how she couldn’t possibly compete with any of them. Kitty responds by absolutely roasting the shit out of each queen. It’s hilarious and the delivery of the lines are amazing. It’s one of the funniest introductions.

But to get back to the actual song, which is just as heartbreaking; All you wanna do describes how Kitty thought that a man wanting her sexually meant he loved her, and she continues to be cast aside when “playtime is over” and the men are done with her. They all tell her that they have a special connection, which becomes one of the most important lines in the song. Cause when the fourth chorus is being sung, and Thomas, the final man, says “we have a connection”, that’s when Kitty realizes how much she’s been taken advantage of.

Visually in the musical, every time Kitty sings “connection” the queens put their hands on her. For the first chorus, it’s just two queens and two hands. But as the song progresses more and more hands are placed on Kitty’s body, symbolizing the sexual abuse she had to go through. By the end, when Kitty is practically crying the last chorus, she’s throwing their hands away from her, but they keep returning to her body and pulling at her. The visual symbolism here is amazingly well done, and insanely creepy.

It’s probably my favorite visual symbolism in the entire musical.

The introduction to our final queen, Catherine Parr, is very unique. CP herself actually doesn’t say much at first, and the queens are basically still fighting each other on who had the most trauma or abuse. They step aside, declaring it’s time to hear from the final queen and CP... doesn’t sing.

CP starts talking about how maybe what they’re doing is kinda insensitive, and the queens mock her, saying she’s drawing lines in arbitrary places and just knows she won’t win, so she’s trying to make them feel bad. CP agrees to sing a song, and introduces herself before so. She talks about having been married multiple times, something she and Henry had in common, because she had to be married not to be ostracized by society. When she finally finds a man she truly loves, Henry decides to make her his next queen, and she must write a letter telling her lover that she can’t marry him.

One of the main focuses in I don’t need your love is how CP, and the other queens, are reduced to just one of Henry’s six wives, and how CP had so much more to say, being a writer, a women’s rights and educational advocate, and how all the queens disappear in “his story”.

By the end of the song, the other queens join CP in singing, saying they’re taking control of their own lives and that they are more than one of Henry’s wives and, hell, that Henry himself is only famous because of his six wives.

In-between I don’t need your love and Six the queens talk about how messed up comparing them is, as they aren’t just a category and a word in a stupid rhyme. The final song is the queens making up fictional endings for themselves where they get to have happy endings. It’s a very upbeat, insanely happy song and it made me cry the first time I watched the musical. I cry easily over happy endings, ok? xD

Overall, I’d say this show is a blast to watch from beginning to end with very few jokes or moments that don’t do it for me. Due to the historical theme, a lot of people compare it to Hamilton. Yes, there’s certain similarities, but frankly, there’s not enough similarities to really compare them. The similarities stop after the initial concept of taking some historical people and turning it into a musical. There’s very few similarities, but both musicals are absolutely amazing.

Would I call SIX a masterpiece? No. But that doesn’t mean it’s not absolutely fantastic! I can only recommend it, it doesn’t matter if you know fuck-all about The Tudors, I knew nothing about them going into this musical, and it didn’t make the musical any less amazing. It’s hilarious and engaging from beginning to end, and all the queens are memorable, fun and super quotable and iconic.

Before I drop the curtain on this long-ass post, let me share my favorite bootleg of my favorite cast of the SIX musical. It’s worth a million watches, and it’s pretty short in comparison to other musicals.

Take a look, and tell me what you thought of it! :D

youtube

If you got this far, thank you for your patience and interest xD

#six #six musical #thoughts and feelings #this got way too fucking long

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krtrs · 4 years

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badly explained anastasia songs

prologue: once upon a december: we will not be together in paris soon, you liar

a rumour in st petersburg: communism sucks but at least we have rumours

in my dreams: i'm sure i have a tragic backstory hidden somewhere behind all this amnesia

learn to do it: all of the first princess diaries movie compressed into one song

the neva flows: my dad killed people and i'm depressed

my petersburg: i am tough

once upon a december: woah vague memories of my past??

stay, i pray you: yeah russia sucks right now but don't leave i'm begging you

we'll go from there: oh my god oh my god oh my gOD WE'RE LEAVING!!

still: oh no ya boy has a crush on someone who legit might be anastasia

journey to the past: this song was at the beginning of the movie but now it's been crammed in here and that's fine i'm fine leave me alone

paris holds the key (to your heart): wow france is fancy (francy)

crossing a bridge: woah maybe i actually am anastasia

close the door: i'm a sad old woman who hates everyone please stop pretending to be my dead granddaughter

land of yesterday: russia is fucked right now but hey we used to be royalty let's party

the countess and the common man: there's a part of the song that's just them panting and i thought they literally had sex until i watched the bootleg

in a crowd of thousands: the classic "falling in love" song that every musical is required to have mixed with angst because oh god you're the princess

meant to be: oh shit they're in love

quarter at the ballet: the stage directions for this song was probably something like "all parties to be yearning"

everything to win: oh shit i'm in love with her

once upon a december (reprise): orange blossoms?!

the press conference: MASS-STERIA

everything to win (reprise): oh shit i'm in love with him

still/the neva flows (reprise): gleb is a pussy

finale: *whistfully* it was all a dream

#anastasia #anastasia romanov #anastasia musical #dimitri sudayev #dmitry sudayev #dimitri #dmitry #vlad popov #vlad #dimya #musicals #my post #shitpost

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wheresmynaya · 4 years

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Lopez’s 8 Ch.2 | Brittana

I didn’t expect such a big response for the first chapter LOL I’m glad everyone’s here for this. Thanks for spreading the word! <33

Also available on ff.net (x) ao3 (x) & below the cut!

The next morning, Santana and Brittany are seated side by side in one of Santana’s favorite cafés. Santana’s stuffing her face with pancakes like she hasn’t eaten in days while Brittany tries to wrap her head around everything Santana has told her about the heist.

When the waitress comes around with Brittany’s hot chocolate and a top-up of Santana’s coffee, Brittany smoothly pulls a flask from her jacket and twists off the lid.

Santana watches as she pours a splash of peppermint schnapps into her mug and starts to stir before concealing the flask again.

“That’s new,” Santana comments with a chuckle, “Did you develop a drinking problem while I was away?”

Brittany rolls her eyes, “No, but I might if you insist on starting every morning like this.”

“Like what?” Santana smiles sweetly, “With breakfast and the pleasure of my company?”

Brittany squints and goes to correct her, “With you tricking me into having breakfast with you so you can bombard me with your dastardly plans on the way here.”

“Admit it, Britt,” Santana says smugly as she sticks her fork through a bite of pancakes, “You’ve missed this. You’ve missed me and all the fun we use to have. Tell me you’re not the least bit interested now that you’ve heard everything.”

Brittany sighs and goes to take a long sip of her hot chocolate.

Santana watches and waits, but Brittany remains quiet. It makes Santana smirk deviously.

“That’s what I thought,” Santana gives her a triumphant grin, “You can’t resist a good thing. You so want this, just say it.”

Brittany scoffs. If she didn’t find Santana’s confidence so damn attractive, she’d roll her eyes at it for the millionth time that morning.

“Okay, so you want to rob a museum…” Brittany clarifies hesitantly after taking another sip.

Santana shakes her head, “Not the museum, just someone in it.”

“That’s right,” Brittany nods, “You want to rob Rachel Berry.”

“Oh my God, Britt!” Santana hushes and eyes around them to see if anyone heard. When the coast is clear she turns back to Brittany with her voice lowered, “Could you be any louder? Who knows who’s listening, she’s like the biggest star right now.”

“I don’t know why,” Brittany scoffs, “You know she pays the paparazzi to follow her around, right?”

“Yeah, it’s ridiculous but so is she,” Santana shrugs, “She’s always causing a scene to get her name on the front page. Remember that one scandal involving a panty raid?”

“How could I forget! She was caught red-handed,” Brittany laughs before her tone grows serious, “Rumor has it that she once ate a bull testicle too.”

Santana frowns in disgust and pauses before taking another bite, “Can you not? I’m eating…”

“That’s her claim to fame, Santana, eating a bull testicle…like singular she didn’t even eat both of them!” Brittany says while she waves her hand around, “It’s such a waste.”

“Well the key words here are rumor has it,” Santana jokes, “Who knows what the hell goes on with her. And besides, why would anyone want to eat a fucking bull testicle in the first place? That’s gross.”

“It’s a delicacy in some places,” Brittany mumbles which earns her a quizzical glare from Santana, “So I’ve heard. People do strange things for fame.”

“Clearly,” Santana replies, “We all know Rachel Berry sucks but she’s the one hosting the Met Gala this year so it’s kind of out of my hands. She’s our mark by like…default.”

“Right,” Brittany nods and goes back to piecing everything together. Her face is cutely screwed up in deep concentration and Santana’s sure Brittany’s about to say that she’s the biggest pain in her ass which Santana’s totally use to hearing by now.

To her surprise, Brittany just let’s out an exhausted sigh.

“There’s no way we’d be able to pull this off with just the two of us,” She says, “There’s too many moving parts, we’d need like a group of 11 to 13 people – “

“Oddly specific,” Santana points out around a mouthful of pancakes while Brittany rambles on.

“ – At the very least and like a whole bunch of money which neither of us has,” Brittany gives her a look, “So how’s that going to work out?”

“Well for starters, we’d only need a team of seven and just a few grand,” Santana answers proudly, “That’s where the credit line I asked about comes into play.”

“Oh, just a few grand? Is that all?” Brittany quips, “You think money grows on trees or something? It doesn’t, I tried. Remember?”

“Yes, yes I remember. The pay-off is going to be big,” Santana jokes back as her voice dips down into a flirty tone, “And I’m sure you can work out something. Give yourself some credit, you can be very persuasive when you want.”

“Well one of us has to be judging by your failed attempt to seduce me yesterday,” Brittany smirks.

“Please. If I was going to seduce you, you’d know it.”

“I’m sure,” Brittany lets out a laugh before getting serious again, “Even if I could manage to get what you need, we’re working with such a tight schedule. We’d need to acquire a whole team like now. It’s crazy talk.”

“No, it’s genius,” Santana corrects her while Brittany takes a sip, “You have got to admit that this is some of my best work, Britt.”

She’s not wrong, it really is a great plan. It’s just that Brittany doesn’t want Santana to get herself locked up again, she doesn’t think she could last that long without having her around, but you only get locked up if you get caught and that has never happened when she and Brittany are together.

It really gets Brittany thinking though, what’s the hurry other than the obvious? Why does it have to be the Met Gala? What isn’t Santana telling her?

“Why do you need to do this?” Brittany asks suddenly and there’s this seriousness in her tone, “Tell me the reason and maybe I’ll consider it.”

Santana’s answer comes easily as she smirks, “Because it’s what I’m good at.”

“Babe, you’re good at a lot of things. Trust me on that, but this?” Brittany shakes her head, “I don’t have a good feeling about this,” Brittany says earnestly.

The old term of endearment falls so easily that Brittany doesn’t realize she says it. They’ve always playfully called each other names like that for years so it’s not big deal, even if Brittany sometimes gets a fluttery feeling in the pit of her stomach.

Santana lets out a long sigh and lowers her tone too, “There’s nothing to worry about. I have gone over this thing thousands of times, literally. It’s all I thought about when I was away and I have it perfected. If we get into a bind – which we won’t, probably – I can get us out. It might’ve taken me like three years to get it just right, but it’ll run like clockwork now. I promise.”

What surprises Brittany is the fact that Santana holds out her pinky to her.

“No. Don’t do that,” Brittany scoffs and points at Santana’s hand, “Pinky promises are reserved for promises that you can keep.”

“I know,” Santana replies and inches closer, “Why do you think I’m doing this?”

Brittany’s slow to answer and instead just stares down at her mug.

“Listen,” Santana adds in this husky tone and puts down her fork altogether to give Brittany her full attention. She has her serious voice on now too when she says, “I need you with me, B.”

Brittany bites her lip to keep from smiling as she peeks up at Santana. The brunette is staring back with these pleading big, brown eyes and Brittany struggles against the pull. She can feel herself caving the longer she stares back though, because feeling needed? By Santana? That’s Brittany’s kryptonite.

But Santana knows that too and Brittany can’t give into her so easily.

“Why can’t you find someone else if it’s so important for you to do?” Brittany asks but again Santana is too quick to answer.

“It has to be you and me leading this thing. That’s the only way this will work.”

“You’re just saying that,” Brittany brushes off with the shake of her head. She tries to make light of the situation, “You’ve found someone else before. That’s how Dani came into the picture, right? You can do it again. Maybe the next person will have green hair this time?”

Brittany sees that she has struck a nerve with the way Santana takes a sharp inhale at the blow, but the brunette remains persistent despite the waver.

“I can’t do this with anyone else,” Santana says simply, “There’s no one like you, Britt.”

Her words and her tone has Brittany’s playful smirk falling and the blonde looks to Santana almost in wonderment. Those words Santana said, she rarely hers them. Or rather, she rarely believes them but when they come from Santana it means something different altogether.

Brittany trusts her – well, they trust each other – and that’s rare in their industry. Con artists don’t trust anyone and they can’t be trusted either. That’s just how it is, but it’s always been different for them.

“Don’t you want out of the bootlegging biz?” Santana asks to fill the silence.

Brittany’s smirk returns, “That’s not what it’s called anymore…”

“Whatever, you know what I mean,” Santana shrugs and finds Brittany’s eyes, “You’re better than that watered down shit, that I know. Don’t waste your talents on it, Britt. Do this thing with me instead. Please.”

It takes Brittany a moment for Santana’s words to sink in, but then she’s letting out a telltale sigh of defeat. She doesn’t even have to say anything, Santana just knows she has won this round.

“Alright, I’ll do it,” Brittany finally agrees aloud and takes Santana’s pinky in hers, “You happy now? You’ve successfully corrupted me.”

“Don’t pin that on me! You were like that before I even met you,” Santana grins, “But yes, I’m very happy.”

Brittany keeps her pinky curled around Santana’s for a second longer as she says, “Good, but just know I’m only agreeing to this because I like how you sound when you say please.”

“I know you do,” Santana winks. She pauses there for a second, admiring the way Brittany’s cat-like eyes darken in a way that occasionally has one of them being dragged off to a bathroom stall. Santana stays focused though and goes to pick up her fork again before offering a bite to Brittany, “Now taste this before it gets cold.”

“But I’m not hungry.”

“Liar,” Santana accuses playfully, “You’re always hungry.”

“Yeah, but not for pancakes.”

Brittany gives Santana a proud smirk to which Santana rolls her eyes, “Just take a bite.”

Brittany looks down at the offered fork warily then back into Santana’s hopeful eyes. She rocks the fork from side to side like she’s trying entice her with it. Ultimately Brittany rolls her eyes and succumbs to Santana yet again. She lets Santana guide the small bite into her mouth and hums almost instantly at the taste.

“Tastes like clouds,” Brittany’s in awe and goes to grab her own fork.

“Told you,” Santana smirks and slides her plate closer so that Brittany can help herself.

“So this team you’re talking about,” Brittany mumbles with her mouth full, “Got anyone in mind?”

Santana bobs her head from side to side, “Possibly. That’s what I’ll need your help with first, partner.”

Brittany smiles deviously at her new title, “Let’s hurry up and get to work then!”

They’re back at the loft and have cleared off the dining table so that it’s now covered in headshots and resumes. Santana and Brittany have been rifling through the paperwork for hours now trying to select the perfect person for job.

“What about this one?” Santana suggests and pushes the fashion designer’s details across the table towards Brittany.

Brittany pushes her laptop out of the way and goes to take a look at the profile. After once glance, she quickly shakes her head and throws the paper off to the side with a, “Nope.”

Santana gasps and goes to pick it up, “Why not? She’s young, she’s well-known, she’s – “

“Got a record,” Brittany fills in.

“Don’t we all?” Santana smirks.

Brittany narrows her eyes, “Not the kind of record you want around this type of job. Holly Holliday is a flight risk. She rarely completes a job. I don’t want us to worry about whether or not she’ll stick around long enough to see this through.”

“Well, there’s millions of dollars in it for her if she does,” Santana replies sarcastically.

Brittany gives her a look, “It’s a big if, Santana. We can find someone better.”

“Okay, okay. We’ll keep looking,” Santana sighs and goes back to searching.

“Ah, how about him?” Brittany suggests a moment later and reveals a picture of world-renowned designer Kurt Hummel.

Santana waves him off, “No. No boys allowed.”

“Not even a gay one?” Brittany asks and goes to frown at the picture, “He’d be perfect for this. Impressive portfolio, easily intimidated yet highly motivated by the potential pay-off. Just look at his porcelain face.”

“Porcelain cracks with enough pressure,” Santana replies matter-of-factly, “If he someone gets picked up, we need to make sure he doesn’t start singing and with a face like that? I’m sure he’d sing his ass off.”

“True,” Brittany pouts at his picture, “I bet he gives really facials though.”

Santana fakes a gag, “Gross, Britt.”

“What? I was talking about skin care. See?”

Santana glances up to find Brittany looking genuine as she holds up his picture. She smiles apologetically and shakes her head, “It’s still a no. I’m going for all-girl here. We can’t have a guy in the group, even if his face does look baby-butt smooth. Besides, he’s rich already. We need someone who needs us.”

“Alright,” Brittany shrugs and sets down the picture.

A few moments later Santana plucks another profile from the stack and shows it to Brittany, “What about this one? Pretty sure we’ve worked with her before actually…”

Brittany reads the name April Rhodes and starts to chuckle, “I remember her! She got caught trying to smuggle a whole butterball turkey out from this banquet dinner…between her legs. ”

“Stuffing and all,” Santana recalls and goes to read the profile again, “She’s down for anything and she’s a talker too. Perfect for what we need. Now she’s apparently into fashion?”

“More like rehab,” Brittany corrects after doing a quick search on her laptop. She turns the screen to Santana, “Been in there now for six weeks.”

“Damn it! Third time’s the charm I guess,” Santana shrugs, “We’ll keep looking.”

A few more failed attempts later, Brittany starts to giggle to herself. Santana wonders how late it is and if Brittany is starting to get a little delirious.

“What?” Santana asks.

“I’m beginning to think you have a type,” Brittany teases while she taps away on her laptop.

“A type?”

“Mhmm,” Brittany hums without looking up.

Santana frowns, “I don’t have a type.”

“All your suggestions have been blonde and blue-eyed,” Brittany points out, “Hate to break it to you, honey, but you have a type.”

“My ex has blue hair, blue. That totally cancels out your theory.”

“But she was blonde when you met her,” Brittany grins and peeks over the screen of her laptop, “Admitting you have a type is the first step to recovery.”

“Oh is it?” Santana quirks her brow, trying to brush it off, “You sure that’s not addiction?”

“Same difference.”

Santana shakes her head, “Let’s just focus here.”

Although now that Brittany has mentioned, she’s become really aware of the last four people she has suggested. She didn’t know she was doing it – obviously – but now that Brittany’s pointed it out, she’ll just have to be more observant.

She doesn’t have a type, she just has standards and coincidentally those standards have been met by people who just so happened to be blonde and blue-eyed.

Does that mean she has a type? Of course not.

That’s when her eyes catch a profile she hasn’t suggested yet. She plucks up the paper and skims the details. Her smile grows the more she reads.

“She’s the one,” Santana mumbles and turns the paper to show Brittany, “This is our fashion designer and look, she isn’t blonde.”

Brittany scans the information and Santana watches her smile grow too.

“Let’s go get her.”

Brittany manages to gain her and Santana entry into the designer’s next fashion show which just so happens to be the worst hour and a half they have experienced in a long time. Santana actually feels sorry for the models because any outfit that consists of a gigantic, floppy bow tied around your neck paired with a buttoned-up cardigan that is the same color as mashed up peas and carrots is just a travesty.

“I don’t know, Britt,” Santana whispers as another model walks by, “I’m having second thoughts. This is horrible, just look at that one’s shoes.”

Brittany glances over just in time to see Santana cringe. She does her best to stifle her laugh as she whispers back, “She doesn’t have to appeal to us, remember? She has to appeal to Rachel Berry, the same Rachel Berry who coined the term Sexy Librarian Chic.”

Santana nods, “You’re right. We need someone with just as horrible taste as her.”

“Exactly,” Brittany smiles down at Santana encouragingly, “We’ve found our designer for sure.”

It’s hard for Santana and Brittany to sit through the entire show without screwing their faces up in disgust, but they manage to pull through and once the show ends they go off to find their designer.

It doesn’t take long though. When they find who they’re looking for, she’s huddled up in a corner surrounded by used disinfectant wipes. She’s in the middle of furiously scrubbing a high heel while she recovers from sobbing when Santana and Brittany walk up.

“Hi. Are you Emma?” Brittany asks softly, “Emma Pillsbury?”

The designer looks absolutely wrecked with her mascara running down her cheeks and this panicked look in her eye. It kind of freaks Santana out at first glance.

The red-haired woman hiccups as she looks to them, “Yes?”

“Awesome,” Brittany shows off that infectious, mega-watt grin and takes another step closer, “We’re big fans of your work.”

“You are?” Emma doesn’t look too sure.

“Of course,” Brittany shrugs casually and kicks away some of the used wipes so that she can perch herself on an upturned crate near the woman, “I would’ve never thought to pair a lime green cardi with mustard yellow loafers.”

“That’s because you have taste,” Santana jokes purely because she can’t help herself.

Brittany shoots her a glare and quickly tries to do some damage control before Emma starts to hyperventilate again, “You’re a fashion icon, Emma.”

“Tell that to the debt collectors,” Emma frowns, “I’m a failure. There’s no way I can come back from this. I put everything I had left into this show. It’s only a matter of time before everything’s taken from me.”

Brittany softens at Emma becoming increasingly distressed. Deep down, she feels a little bad for the woman. She seems like a nice person, genuine enough, and completely broke.

She’s the perfect person for the job.

“What if we told you that we can make this all go away?” Santana speaks up when she finds Brittany getting swept up in her feelings.

Emma blinks and glances between the two women skeptically, “I wouldn’t believe you.”

“Well start believing because we can,” Santana says through her smirk.

“What do you have in mind?” Emma questions.

Santana glances to Brittany and gives her a nod, almost as if she’s passing the mic.

“Dress Rachel Berry for the Met Gala,” Brittany supplies quietly so that only the three of them can hear.

Emma spurts out a disbelieving laugh, “You can’t be serious.”

Santana and Brittany remain stoic and it has Emma’s smile falling instantly.

“You’re serious,” Emma says gravely.

“We are,” Santana nods.

“Rachel Berry?” Emma pushes the idea away, “She’s…I’ve never dressed anyone with her kind of star power. How would I even be an option for her?”

“Come with us and we’ll explain everything,” Brittany offers.

Emma looks a little like a frightened doe but she stands regardless and agrees to follow them out to their car. It’s actually really concerning how little effort they had to use in order to get Emma to agree to a meeting, but they aren’t complaining too much.

Once they get back to the loft, Brittany pulls up a picture of the most blingiest bling that ever blinged: the Toussaint. Emma’s eyes go wide at that size of the diamonds encased in the necklace while Santana gives a vague rundown of how Rachel Berry, the Toussaint, and Emma all play an important role in the outcome of this heist.

Unlike Brittany, Emma only needs to hear the parts of the plan that she’s directly involved with so it doesn’t take as long for the designer to get her head wrapped around the opportunity.

“I still don’t understand how you expect me to get a hold of this necklace,” Emma says a bit later, “And frankly, I think it’s too gaudy for the work I’m known for.”

“Known for? That’s a reach,” Santana teases lowly but plasters on an encouraging smile as she turns to face her again, “This necklace has history. It’s perfect for this year’s theme and if it’s Rachel Berry we’re talking about…the bigger the bling, the better. They’ll lend it out if it’s for her.”

Emma sighs but ultimately lets Santana sway her, “Okay, I can do this.”

“Yeah you can!” Brittany cheers before glancing to Santana and sending her a wink.

Santana ignores how her stomach flips at the sight and goes back to explaining what they need Emma to do first.

Later that night, Santana and Brittany are back on the hunt again for their next recruit. Brittany’s eyes are starting to do that thing where they sting whenever she blinks, so she looks over to Santana who is fully immersed in her search.

“Can we take a break?” Brittany asks, “I’m getting snacky.”

“You’re always snacky,” Santana chuckles as Brittany goes to stand. She doesn’t even notice Brittany rounding the table until her warm hands squeeze tenderly at her shoulders. She feels Brittany’s thumbs dig into her tight muscles, working out the tension there, and she can’t help but moan at the sensation.

“Come on. Take a break,” Brittany husks as her hands continue to work, “We’ve been going at it all day.”

Santana can practically hear the smugness in her tone for that innuendo; Brittany can be the biggest tease sometimes and that’s coming from her.

She stays focused on the task at hand though, “I’m close, Britt. I can feel it.”

“I haven’t heard that in awhile,” Brittany chuckles darkly as she withdraws her hands and goes looking for a snack.

Santana raises a brow, “I find that hard to believe.”

“You’re right,” Brittany says as she goes to lean against the kitchen counter with an apple in hand. She looks back at Santana with this mischievous glint in her eye, “What I meant to say was that I haven’t heard that from you in awhile.”

Santana lets out a laugh but Brittany just takes a bite of her apple, never breaking eye contact. In fact, her smug grin grows as she chews.

“And I’m sure you want to change that?” Santana asks as her voice dips into that deliciously raspy-hot-as-hell tone of hers, “Don’t you?”

“Is that an invitation?” Brittany practically purrs after wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

“You find me a hacker and we’ll see where your luck takes you.”

Brittany sinks her teeth into the apple then snatches up a bag of chips and a beer before retuning to the search with a renewed enthusiasm. It takes her all of twenty minutes before she’s stumbling upon someone promising.

“Can I borrow your car?” Santana asks the next day while Brittany is busy at work trying to sift through potential people needed for other roles in the heist.

“Which one?”

“Any.”

The blonde shrugs, “Sure. Where’re you going? Paying another friend a visit?”

Santana smirks, “Something like that.”

Brittany gives her a questioning look before going to grab the keys, “Can I come?”

“Not yet,” Santana answers, “But I’ll need your help a little later.”

“Sure,” Brittany shuffles through the mix for Santana’s favorite and tosses them over to her, “I just filled that one up too.”

Santana smiles sweetly and comes over to press a chaste kiss to Brittany’s cheek in thanks, “I’ll see you later. Don’t get into any trouble while I’m out.”

“Speak for yourself,” Brittany chuckles although she can feel a blush blossoming at the feel of Santana’s lip on her skin. God, she’s so sex-deprived. If just a little kiss on the cheek gets her going, who knows what’ll happen if Santana leaves one on her lips next.

The brunette gives her one last wave of her fingers before she heads out, leaving Brittany to distract her wandering thought by looking up that possible hacker’s details and setting up a meeting.

Awhile later, Santana finds herself standing across the street from a jeweler she once tagged along with her father to when she was younger. Her father and the shop owner were close friends back in the day, and judging by her father’s reputation, she’s sure the shop owner must’ve dabbled into the business as well otherwise, why would they be so close?

Santana remembers playing with the owner’s daughter every once in awhile though when she and her father would come by. Word on the street is that the daughter took over the business after the owner’s passing, so it’s only natural that Santana returns now.

They both have followed in their fathers’ footsteps in a way and she’s sure they could be of use to each other.

Santana waits for the jeweler in the window to notice her watching from across the way. When she finally does, she quickly speaks to her colleague before making her exit.

Santana smiles politely as the other woman nears, she looks like she has barely aged since the last time she saw her.

“Hey Tina,” Santana greets.

“Santana, Hi!” Tina replies happily, “God, it’s been a long time. I haven’t seen you since the funeral.”

“Yeah, I’ve been busy,” Santana says vaguely, “How’s business?”

“It’s okay,” Tina shrugs as her smile falls, “We’re going through a little rough patch at the moment, but we’ll be okay. What brings you out this way?”

“Well, I kind of need your help with something,” Santana tells her.

Tina’s voice lowers, “Is everything okay? I heard you were in jail…”

“Yeah, I was,” Santana answers with a chuckle and goes to check her watch, “You got time for a walk? I can explain everything.”

Tina glances over at the shop for a moment before she nods, “Yeah, of course. What do you need help with?”

Santana breezes into the loft awhile later with the biggest of grins on her face.

“Got a jeweler!” She says proudly as she shrugs out of her blazer. When she doesn’t hear a reply she ventures in deeper and calls out, “Britt? You here?”

“Yeah!” Brittany answers back and Santana follows the sound of her voice around the corner.

She finds the blonde seated next to a woman she recognizes from Brittany’s pile of suggestions but she still has questions. The two of them are squeezed in on a loveseat that Santana totally forgot about and they’re both staring down as the woman’s fingers type furiously at her laptop.

“What’s going on here? Who the hell are you?” Santana asks, but her tone comes out way more aggressive than she intended.

Brittany looks up questioningly upon hearing the snap, “This is Mercedes. She’s our new hacker.”

“I didn’t agree to anything yet,” Mercedes corrects her.

Santana’s brow rises as she looks from the woman to Brittany, “You chose someone named after a car?”

Mercedes gives Santana a look, the first time she’s torn her eyes away from the screen, but Brittany cuts in before anything happens.

“She’s really great, Santana,” Brittany tells her and goes to pat her thigh, “Come sit, she’s already infiltrated the museum’s security system.”

“What?” Santana gasps and quickly comes in close, foregoing Brittany’s lap so she can see the screen. Sure enough, it’s all there: access to every camera in the entire building.

“Is this what you’re looking for?” Mercedes asks casually.

“Yup,” Brittany beamed and looked to Santana who was now pressed up against her shoulder, “What do you think?”

“Anyone can hack into some cameras,” Santana waves off as she pushes away from Brittany to stand, “What else can you-“

Suddenly all the lights in the loft went out and the three of them were plunged into darkness for a few seconds until the sound of a mouse click turned them back on.

Mercedes smirks at the dumbfounded look on Santana’s face, “It took me a matter of seconds to run this place. Whoever is in charge of your busted ass security system here should be fired.”

When Santana’s only reply is a dropped jaw, Brittany takes that as all the approval she needs and enlists Mercedes on the spot.

Once Mercedes heads out, Santana and Brittany set off on their next task for the day. This one is something Brittany’s been organizing while Santana was off meeting with Tina, so she fills Santana in on the way to the restaurant where they’re meant to meet Emma.

Brittany takes the lead on this one, telling the designer that the mission here is to make Rachel Berry as jealous as possible so that she’ll stop at nothing to nab Emma Pillsbury as her fashion designer for the Gala. Emma’s not so sure she’s following along, but Brittany tells her not to worry about it and just do what they talked about earlier while Santana was away.

Emma nods resolutely and heads inside while Santana and Brittany hang by the car.

“Who’s she meeting with?�� Santana asks.

“You’ll see,” Brittany answers, “You aren’t the only one who has a few tricks up her sleeve.”

Santana tilts her head to the side in wonder, but Brittany just leans against the car with her arms crossed and rests her head back to soak in the warm sunlight.

Santana watches with awe, the way sunrays halo her makes Brittany look almost angelic. Santana knows that couldn’t be further from the truth though and the thought makes her smirk.

They stand there a moment longer somewhat watching from the window as Rachel Berry’s biggest rival, Sunshine Corazon, enters the restaurant and walks over to the table where Emma is seated. The singer and designer talk excitedly while Brittany pulls a camera from the car and pops off the lens cover.

“Hold this,” She directs and passes it to Santana before walking over to snap a couple pictures of the two carrying on. Santana watches curiously until Brittany returns to her side, “You know how much we can get for pictures like these? Could easily pay for nice meal and a few drinks.”

“Is that your way of asking me on a date?” Santana snickers as she passes Brittany the lens cap.

“Date?” Brittany feigns surprise, “You don’t date. At least that’s what you told me before you started dating Dani.”

Santana let’s out a deep sigh at another one of Brittany’s Dani-related jabs, “You’re never going to let that go, huh?”

“Nope,” Brittany grins, “Especially because she got you arrested once.”

“Not funny,” Santana huffs and goes to cross her arms.

Brittany’s quick to slip her hand between them though and slides down Santana’s forearm so that her pinky locks with the brunette’s, “I’m sorry. Don’t be mad.”

Santana rolls her eyes at the sickeningly sweet tone but she can’t help the smile that forms. When it comes to Brittany, sometimes she really can’t help herself. She’s like putty in her hands, but that goes both ways at times too.

“Oh look, Emma’s coming out now,” Brittany points out as she drops Santana’s pinky and goes to stow away the camera.

Santana hates how she already misses the closeness but pushes away the feeling and gets back into the car along with Brittany and Emma.

When the pictures of Emma’s lunch with Sunshine Corazon are released to the public it only takes a matter of minutes before Rachel Berry’s manager is calling to book Emma for the Gala.

“Mission accomplished,” Brittany smirks and pumps her fist in the air, “And I got a couple hundred bucks for the pictures!”

“Big money,” Santana teases.

Brittany continues to smirk as she closes the distance between them, “What’d you say we blow this popsicle stand and grab a drink?”

“Tempting,” Santana says as Brittany’s eyes linger on Santana’s lips, “But I’ve got work to do.”

Brittany let’s out a sigh and turns away, “You’re no fun.”

“Okay so here me out,” Brittany begins as she and Santana walk down a crowded street, “This girl is a little out there but she’s got the best hands I’ve ever seen.”

Santana quirks a brow, “I’m offended.”

“Hey, it’s been awhile,” Brittany replies with a wink, “You might need to refresh my memory.”

“Yeah, you’d love that would you?” Santana laughs.

“You have no idea. Come on,” Brittany smirks then grabs onto Santana’s wrist to pulls her through a crowd surrounding a busker.

It’s a tight fit so Santana hooks her fingers into Brittany’s belt loops and practically molds herself to the blonde’s back – you know, so they don’t get separated.

Brittany loves every minute of it of course.

Santana also doesn’t mind the closeness too much either.

“She’s there,” Brittany points out to the girl doing some trick with a few red solo cups.

Santana rolls to the tips of her toes to get a better look which makes Brittany chuckle.

“Come here, shorty,” She teases and pulls the girl around to stand in front of her instead. Her hands linger on Santana’s hips, “Can you see now?”

“Yeah,” Santana mumbles and watches the girl in front of them work her magic on some tourist.

She’s quick with her hands and just as charismatic as Brittany too but there’s something about her that’s a little too flashy. Maybe it’s the hot pink, furry vest she wears or the heart-shaped sunglasses sitting atop her head. Santana has no idea, but the girl’s swift nab of the man’s watch without him knowing has her interests piqued.

“See what I mean?” Brittany nudges Santana.

“She’s good,” Santana agrees and as the crowd starts to disperse she and Brittany head over.

“Hey hotties,” The girl greets and does a quick nod so that her sunglasses fall over her eyes. She points over to Santana’s watch, “That’s nice.”

“Don’t even think about it,” Santana smirks.

The girl tilts her head to the side and looks between them, “You 5-0?”

Santana and Brittany look to each other and laugh wholeheartedly.

“Fuck no!”

“Yeah, no way!” Brittany adds too, “What’s your name, kid?”

“Sugar,” The girl supplies and Santana’s sure the girl is lying, “Why?”

“Well Sugar, we were just admiring your special talents,” Santana says smoothly, “Got time for a chat?”

“Time is money,” Sugar replies looking skeptic, “So unless there’s something in it for me, the answer is no.”

“Oh, there’s definitely going to be something in it for you,” Brittany tells her with a grin, “Come take a walk.”

Sugar eyes the two warily, “I’ll go…but only if you buy me a bubble tea.”

“A what?” Santana frowns.

“It’s a drink,” Brittany chuckles, “You’ve never had it?”

“No?”

“Have you been living under a rock?” Sugar gasps.

“No, I’ve been in jail.”

“San,” Brittany hushes, not wanting to scare the girl off but to both of their surprise Sugar looks even more interested than ever before.

“What’d you do?” Sugar asks as her smile widens.

“You don’t just ask people that,” Santana scoffs, “That’s exactly how you get shanked.”

“Do you have a shank?”

“What.”

“Can I see it?”

“Anyway!” Brittany claps to get both of their attention, “So bubble tea, we need to get you one asap!” Brittany answers as she licks her slips. The movement of her tongue catches Santana’s eye which has her watching very, very closely, “I’m getting thirsty just thinking about it.”

“Yeah, imagine how I feel. I’ve been lifting things off tourists all day in this heat,” Sugar pulls out a wad of ones and starts to fan herself with it.

“Heat? It’s barely 70 degrees out,” Santana laughs, “Maybe if you’d lose that ridiculous vest-“

“The thirst is still real!” Sugar tells them then glances to Santana with a smirk, “I’m sure you know something about it judging by the way you just eye-fucked blondie here.”

Brittany’s brows shoot up as she turns to Santana. She presses her hand to her chest in surprise, “You did what now?”

Santana ignores Brittany’s teasing and narrows her eyes on the girl, “Fine. We’ll get you your dumb drink and then we’ll talk.”

Sugar beams, “Perfect.”

Later that night, Santana and Brittany are lounging on the couch with their feet propped up on the coffee table. They’ve both had the longest day ever so far and can barely keep their eyes open long enough to scarf down dinner. They have the tv on but Santana isn’t really watching, her head is too full of scattered thoughts and schemes to focus on anything else.

Brittany seems to notice and goes to turn down the volume.

“You don’t stop, do you?” She asks Santana.

The brunette is slow to answer but Brittany’s not sure if that’s because she’s so deep in thought or just exhausted. When she lets out a yawn, Brittany gets her answer.

“There’s only one more person that we need,” Santana tells her like Brittany doesn’t know, “One more and that’s the whole team.”

“Yeah, I get that but you didn’t answer my question,” Brittany replies softly. She moves to brush Santana’s hair behind her ear then keeps her hand pressed against Santana’s cheek, “You’re gonna burn out if you keep at it like this.”

Santana smiles apologetically and overlaps Brittany’s hand with hers, “I won’t. We’re almost there. Once the team is complete then we can breathe a little. I know what I’m doing, Britt, you don’t have to worry about me.”

“Hard not to,” Brittany shrugs as she pulls her hand out from underneath Santana’s.

Santana watches as her features harden a little and she wonders why that is.

Their dynamic has always been a little unconventional, especially when the casual sex became a thing, and maybe once upon a time they could’ve really been something but nothing ever happened. Santana doesn’t date – not really – and Brittany never voiced her feelings if she had them so here they are: just a couple of friends who are gay and do crime.

Is it a dangerous combo considering their past and the crazy amount of sexual chemistry?

Probably, but it works for them.

“Can I borrow a car again tomorrow?” Santana asks, wanting to fill the heavy silence.

“You know, you don’t have to ask every time right?” Brittany says with her head cocked to the side, “As long as you don’t crash any of them, I don’t care.”

“I was just checking,” Santana nods as Brittany turns back to the tv screen, “I’m going upstate tomorrow.”

“Let me guess,” Brittany replies, “To see a friend?”

“Yeah.”

“And you don’t want me to come.”

Santana sighs, “It’s not that I don’t want you to. There’s things to be done here and I don’t want both of us to be away if it’s not needed. We’re on such a tight schedule.”

“I know,” Brittany reaches over to squeeze Santana’s knee, “I just wish you weren’t so cryptic all the time. You’re my best friend, my partner-in-crime. You should tell me things.”

Santana bites her lip. Sometimes Brittany makes things sound so easy, so simple.

“I’m sorry, Britt. I didn’t realize…”

“It’s fine,” Brittany says earnestly, “I’m not mad. It’s just something I’ve noticed lately.”

“Yeah,” Santana mumbles as she starts to get lost in her thoughts.

“I’m gonna head to bed,” Brittany says a moment later and gives Santana’s knee one more squeeze as she stands, “Night, Santana.”

“Goodnight Britt,” Santana says back and watches the blonde make her way up the stairs. She feels a sudden heaviness but she isn’t what caused it. Instead, she just chalks it up to being tired and heads off to bed a little while later too.

Santana leaves at the crack of dawn the next day in hopes of beating the traffic. Brittany isn’t even awake yet, but she feels weird leaving the loft without saying anything so she scribbles down a quick note and slides the piece of paper under Brittany’s bedroom door before heading off:

Hey B,

Off to see that ‘friend’ I’ll be home before dinner. Have a good morning! Xo

– S

As Santana follows the winding road through a neighborhood of massive, cookie-cutter houses, she can’t help but roll her eyes at how basic it all is. If it weren’t for a familiar SUV parked in the driveway, Santana would’ve driven right pass her intended destination.

She parks her car a little ways down the road and walks up, already dialing the number.

It rings once, twice, three times but on the fourth someone finally answers.

“Santana?”

“Hey Q,” Santana smirks at the surprise she hears. She doesn’t think she’ll ever get over it, “How are you these days?”

“Uhm, good?”

“And the kid?”

“Also good.”

“That’s good.”

“Are you calling just to ask how I am? Because that’s very odd and completely unlike you.”

“Checking in on one of my oldest friends is unlike me?” Santana answers as she walks up the woman’s driveway and easily unlocks the side gate.

“Uh, yeah. It is.”

“That’s rude.”

“No, it’s accurate. I thought you were in jail.”

“I was. Got out on good behavior.”

“Bullshit.”

“It’s true.”

“Well, congrats. Now, what do you really want?

Santana wanders into her garage, “For you to come out for a chat.”

The woman laughs down the line, “I don’t even know where you live anymore, Santana.”

“That’s fine,” Santana says, “I’ve come to you.”

“What?”

“I’m in your garage, Fabray.”

“What?!”

Santana soon hears a door leading into the garage open and someone call out, “Mommy will be right back, Beth!” Then it closes and fast footsteps approach until the blonde rounds on Santana. She flinches as the surprise, “What the hell, Lopez!”

“Hey Quinn,” Santana grins as she hangs up the phone and slips it into her pocket.

Quinn shakes her head and laughs, “What the hell are you doing in my garage?”

“Like I said,” Santana shrugs while her eyes go to roam all of the expensive appliances surrounding the room, “I’m here for a chat.”

After knowing Santana almost as long as Brittany has, Quinn knows exactly what that means and goes to cross her arms, “I’m retired.”

Santana rolls her eyes, “People come out of retirement all the time and after you hear what I’ve got up my sleeve you’ll do the same.”

“No, no,” Quinn waves off, “I don’t want to hear what you have to say, Santana. I have to think about my – “

“Family because you’re a mother, “ Santana fills in sarcastically, “I know, I was there when you gave birth for some odd reason.”

“You and Brittany offered!”

“I was just being nice, I didn’t actually want to go,” Santana replies, “That shit scarred me for life! Like, is your vagina okay now?”

Quinn gives her a tired look, “You did not just ask me that.”

“I’m just saying,” Santana holds up her hands in defense, “That was the most fucked up thing I’ve ever se-“

“Mommy!” A small person suddenly cries out as the garage door slams open. The sudden sound has Quinn shoving Santana to the side out of her daughter’s sight, “I’m hungry!”

“Okay baby, I’ll fix you a snack in just a second,” Quinn calls out. She catches Santana mimicking her and slaps her shoulder, “Are you going to tell me why you’re here or not?”

“I need a Fence,” Santana says simply, “I’ve got something big going here and you’re the best of the best.”

“That might be the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me,” Quinn eyes her curiously, “But I’m not doing it. Like I said, I’m retired. “

“Bullshit,” Santana scoffs as she looks around at all the stolen goods, “You’re bored with the whole Suzy Homemaker front because if you weren’t you wouldn’t have all this crap hiding in your garage.”

Quinn softens and eyes Santana analytically, “How much are we talking?”

“A lot,” Santana smirks and leans in to whisper Quinn’s proposed cut.

Quinn’s jaw drops at the sound of the amount.

“Sound good to you?”

Quinn sputters out a laugh, “Uh yeah, sounds very good.”

“Excellent,” Santana beams and calls over her shoulder as she turns to leave, “Team meeting is on Monday. Don’t be late.”

“Wait, you have a whole team?”

Santana smirks, “I do now.”

#soz forgot to post this earlier #Lopezs 8 #Brittana #Brittana Fanfiction #fanfics

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lenalikesboots · 4 years

Text

Bootleg Review n°1

So I watched this bootleg video yesterday and I must say...I’m impressed,

From what I know, this is the oldest video out there of the West End production of Love Never Dies. It’s completely pre-changes - it uses the soundtrack from the original album.

The leads are played by Ramin Karimloo (as Erik), Sierra Boggess (as Christine), Joseph Millson (as Raoul), Summer Strallen (as Meg), Liz Robertson (As Mme. Giry), Richard Linnell (as Gustav)

What really bothered me at first is that it’s missing about 25 minutes from Act 1. Everything in between Till I Hear You Sing and Mother Please I’m Scared is missing. The bootleg is otherwise complete. There is some washout in bright lights and the camera strays at times from the action, and there’s a bar that blocks some of the actors, but otherwise, this is a very a decent bootleg.

I liked seeing the scenes that they cut off in the Australian production. I thought it was interesting.

The Coney Island Walz is instrumental only, and it serves as kind of an Overture thing, in which, just like in Phantom, they take you back in time and set the whole setting of the show.

It goes all the way back to opening night of Phantasma.

In the beginning, there are people chattering about the new amusement park, wanting to go in.

After that, we get to see the whole only-for-him; only-for-you thing, which I thought was cool.

Also- Although I do think that it’s possible Meg has developed the hots for Erik,this Meg seems to just want a promotion. She’s in love with her career, not with her boss. I genuinely like that!

In Summer’s portrayal, Meg seems to be giving 110%, and wants nothing more than to be noticed and have her work appreciated. Of course it’s a blow for her when her mother told her that her boss didn’t care enough to show up. It’d be a blow for anyone, really, because it means your work is alright, but still not outstanding. What’s next, he doesn’t even know her name? Calls her Meghan, instead of Meg?

Anyways- it’s safe to say, I like Summer’s portrayal of Meg a lot!

Next we move on to Till I Hear You Sing! I absolutely loved the way Ramin sang it for this performance!

It was absolutely breathtaking!

I’ve had chills so many times listening to him sing it, like damn!

Unfortunately, the recording stops right after that and picks back up at Mother Please I’m Scared, where it’s really mostly audio and you can’t really see a thing.

I must say, I liked this Dear Old Friend! I liked how this time, Meg didn’t sound judgemental of the fact that Christine stopped singing to become a full-time wife and mother.

And I liked how instead of sounding bitter, Meg sounds rather confused when Christine said she was going to sing.

Moving on- in the middle of Dear Old Friend, Gustav runs off.

Obviously, he goes to see Erik.

And here we come to the first thing I didn[’t like about the show: Ramin’s Erik is really cold and mean towards Gustav in this performance particularly. I know that it’s only because he believes him to be Raoul’s son but come on- even if Raoul were Gustav’s father, it’s not the child’s fault! You can’t choose your own parents goddamn it!

I liked Beauty Underneath...kind of...idk,. I generally don’t like the vibe this song gives me.

I liked the whole “wow! You and I think the same!” idea, but the way they carried it out was bordering on genuinely creepy.

Next up! Erik takes his mask off and...fucks everything up. Kid runs away.

I liked Christine’s reaction to all of this. I liked how she asks Madame Giry to take him away and how she apologises to Erik for her child’s reaction.

And here we come to another of the things I didn’t like about Ramin’s portrayal of the character...Repeat after me: You do NOT strangle the woman you thought could possibly have bore your child. You. Do. NOT.

And you do not tighten your grip when she accuses you of abandoning her- especially if you DID abandon her! Dammit Ramin! Why so angry?

Good thing that he releases her- HOWEVER...

Why so angry Ramin??? Damn!!!

Then she tries to kiss him (which I must admit- was out of nowhere) and he pulls away, still looking super angry.

I get it-he feels awful that not even his own son can accept him the way he is. I get it.

BUT...why take it all out on Christine?

Poor girl already had to go through enough because of him.

Moving on: there are a few other things I didn’t like...but this time, I won’t put the blame just on Ramin.

Number one: when he uncovers his face, Christine turns away. Isn’t that kind of contradicting the whole idea behind “This haunted face holds no horror for me now”?

I understand that his face may not be the prettiest sight, and I understand that she was kinda shocked-after all she hasn’t seen it in 10,almost 11 years. Buuuut she didn’t have to full on turn away.. I thought that directing/acting choice was a little over the top.

And number two: after Christine leaves, Erik is left all alone to think about what just happens. He seems to be a really proud dad at first...but then there is one line that really threw me off, considering what happens in the next act. “If it’s true, I’ve no reason to live”

Uhm...dude?? If you’re planning to kill yourself, why the hell would you make a bet, which would be forcing your baby-mama and your kid to stay in America if you’d win it (and you already know you will) ?

And if he suddenly had a change of heart before that, why didn’t we get to see any of that happen? What motivated him? What made him change his mind?

Did Christine maybe ask him to make that bet? It wouldn’t be a surprise if she did....

And I am not saying this to hate on Raoul! I absolutely love Raoul and pity him greatly in Love Never Dies. He’s not an abusive monster. He’s sick! Not only is he suffering from an addiction, but he also seems to be suffering from depression.

He blames himself for all of Christine’s suffering- although, he had nothing to do with it. It all goes back to Erik leaving her, creating a vicious cycle. Christine then marries Raoul just so she wouldn’t be shunned for having a child out of wedlock. She’s obviously unhappy in her marriage, which ends up making Raoul unhappy, so he ends up drinking his sorrows away. In the end, he blames himself for the fact that Christine is unhappy.

This is what I got from Why Does She Love Me?

Quite obviously, she doesn’t.

He thinks she does, because she says so, but she is obviously unhappy in her marriage because she doesn’t. However, Raoul takes her sadness to mean that he is the one who is not good enough. He is the one making her unhappy. He is the one unworthy of love.

It breaks my heart that after everything he’s done for her, he ended up feeling so damn bad about himself. None of this is his fault.

Then, in walks our second unappreciated character: Meg. There are a lot of parallels in between these two. I feel like they’re both going through the same pain, although in very different ways.

When I watched LND for the first time, I thought this would be the start of a brand new love story, one that would steal the show, and inevitably, our hearts.

Unfortunately, that didn’t happen.

When Meg leaves, Raoul starts talking shit about Erik, only for him to end up showing up behind the bar. Talk of the devil, they say...

Over all, I think this scene is a really funny one- probably a fun one to rehearse and perform as well.

But the whole idea behind it...Guys, I hate to be the bearer of bad news but...Christine is a human being..She’s not property...Let her make her own damn choices for once, she never ever got to do that in her life.

I hate how Erik starts objectifying Christine in Love Never Dies. He didn’t do it in the original, why start now?

Moving on to the next day:

Bathing Beauty is so damn catchy! Like damn!!

I love how Meg arrives in a hot air balloon.

I liked this randition of Summer’s Bathing Beauty. I couldn’t see much of it and I couldn’t see the bathing suits either, but the whole scene was really nice.

I felt so bad for Meg in the next scene though!

Madame Giry was waaay too harsh with her.

Next scene is Christine’s dressing room scene.

I love how conflicted and anguished Sierra portrays her to be. And I love the contrast between the way she acts around Raoul and the way she acts around Erik. Around Raoul, she’s really sweet, like a good wife should be and she is also quite affectionate.

But around Erik...

I think this picture speaks for itself...

By the way: The way she doesn’t question why Raoul asked her not to sing, and the way she gets all conflicted later, makes me think that she knows about the bet, but is starting to have second thoughts about it. Which is completely understandable. As a wife, her first priority is her marriage, which they could, possibly work out.

And as a mother, she has to put her son and what would be best for him first too. She can’t just force him to accept a new guy as his father- even if he is indeed his biological father. So all that anguish she’s feeling? Completely understandable.

You can see from her body language, even when she’s singing, that she is having second thoughts. That this is really hard for her and that she doesn’t know what to do. There is so much pressure on her, the poor girl is close to breaking down on stage, in front of thousands of people.

But then Raoul leaves...And everything in her body language changes. She becomes more confident, more content with her decision. For once, she put herself first. She realizes that she will finally get to be happy.

She, Erik and their child...

I love how happy and hopeful she looks in the next scene as well!

It’s sad that they don’t kiss in this scene, but oh well...We move...

Another thing that made me believe that Christine knew about the bet was how unbothered she seemed by the fact that Raoul left. She wasn’t shocked. She knew this was going to happen. She didn’t want it to happen like that, but it did.

And then when she realizes that Gustav is missing, she nearly gets a heart attack,

I absolutely LOVE Erik’s reaction to the whole thing! I love how worried and angry he got! See, this is one of those times I do appreciate his anger.

Moving on to the next scene:

One thing I didn’t like about it was how close Erik got to Meg when he told her “We can’t all be like Christine”.

That line is such a bad thing to say when trying to comfort someone who’s having a mental breakdown...

Meg has been working for him for ten years. She has helped him so damn much, and she doesn’t even get a thank you, or a decent. No, she only ever gets all these dumb vaudeville numbers, making her a showgirl, not a respected performer.

While Christine, who has only been in town for two days, and hasn’t been performing for a couple of years, immediately gets the aria, the nice dress and the beautiful jewelry.

And then, he has to point out how perfect she is, in front of Meg, who then, when she just wants to talk back to him, ends up accidentally pulling the trigger. And you can tell this was clearly an accident in this performance. She even runs off to get help, only to later return, probably with a doctor on the way, when Christine is already gone (maybe. nobody checked her pulse or her breathing, and the bullet didn’t hit an important artery. She might still be alive)

I loved Erik and Christine’s last kiss. It was so sweet, so passionate. I love how he kept kissing her even after she let go.

However...I didn’t like the way Ramin portrayed his reaction to her death. I understand that the feeling he was going for was numbness, but it literally ended up looking like he didn’t even care that much. For someone who’s never seen Phantom before (maybe just read the book) , who ends up watching this recording, this is the vibe you would get from it.

I love the fact that Meg came back and that she is holding Christine’s body. You can tell just how sorry she is.

I loved the whole unmasking scene. I loved how Erik slowly started opening up to Gustav, when he was finally ready to accept him. And I loved the hug in the end.

And I must say: Erik is getting better at hugging. That’s good!

All in all: I really liked this recording of the show.

If I were to grade it, I’d give it a 7,5/10.

Before I end this post, can we please appreciate just how gorgeous that dress is? Like damn!!!

Sierra looks absolutely stunning in it as well!

(When does she not look stunning though?)

#the phantom of the opera #poto #bootleg #musical theatre bootleg #musical threatre slime tutorial #slime tutorial #bootleg review #eristine #lnd #love never daaes #love never dies

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