#danny does ballet

[the-witchhunter]

DP x DC: Sk8er Boi (v2)

He was a punk, He did ballet, what more can I say?

Tim skateboards. Between his nightlife and being a CEO, he doesn’t do it as much as he’d like but he still does it from time to time. When he swings around to Cass’s ballet studio to surprise her, he runs into one of the other ballerinas. Literally. Tim falls on his ass and falls in love.

Danny is a ballerina in Gotham. It wasn’t what he expected his life to be, but he enjoyed it well enough. He had taken up ballet to appease his sister. She had wanted him to take a class in something, have something outside of ghost fighting for his mental health. He had randomly signed up for the first thing to get her off his back. It just so happened to be ballet. 

He was surprised to find he actually liked it. It was so different from anything he had done before, and it was kind of fun. And when he noticed that all the stretching and physical activity that came with it helped with his pain, well he was hooked. The portal accident really left his human body a wreck, and the sheer relief in his day to day was worth it.

Then one day, his friend Cass’s brother Tim ran into him. Literally. The goofy, sheepish look Tim had given him from the floor was very charming. He wondered if Cass would be mad if he asked her brother out...

or 

Tim skateboards, Cassandra does ballet and there was an Avril Lavine reference right there. 

[dcxdpdabbles]

I love love all your writings!!

I like your depictions of John Constantine.

I'd like to see you write the sad trenchcoat persona as just that a persona in the same fashion as how Brucie Wayne is a persona.

Maybe he's been the de-aged Danny/Dannies father for years and is an actual functional adult. The sad trenchcoat is just used to keep people from calling on him to frequently because he's a dad and has dad-like things to do.

He could help tim with the time stream thing, like 'oh, yeah that does look like Bruce. Alright kid pack a bag we're going in the time stream I know a guy. No Nightwing I'm not joking this looks like solid proof'.

Maybe Bruce has a oh shit he's actually competent and could kill me, that's hot moment. (Kids I have found your other father, help me get him home)

"I would love to offer more of my time to waste on monitor duty, but I have a previous engagement. A particular fit lady needs help getting her dress on the floor. The cloth always gets stuck on her horns. " John leers, wagging his eyebrows at the grimaces his words cause.

He takes a puff of his cigarette, inhaling the smoke like a drowning man. He never smokes at home, not with Danny's sensitive lungs or Dani's general disgust at smoking, so he only had the chance when called away on missions.

Plus, Danny was trying out for ballet soon, and he wasn't going to ruin his son's chances of being a star because of his own poor habits.

It helped that the rest of the heroes believed he was consistently pumping nicotine into his system. Rather irresponsible for the hero to publicly commit frowned-upon activities - at least in the States. Back home, no one cared that much.

It didn't matter that the Justice League was a global team; the main hard hitters and founders were nearly all American, and they tended to uphold those social expectations, either subconsciously or not.

One more reason why they shouldn't bother John, he can't have him smoking at a big awards ceremony or seen going through an entire pack of cigarettes mid-fight. Oh no.

John Constantine was one of the best magic users of this universe, but he was a last resort. There were plenty of other magic users like Zatanna, Dr. Fate, Zatara, or even Etrigan that came to mind first.

John was likely too busy drowning his misery in bottles or the arms of any willing partner. That's what they all thought.

Or more importantly than what he wanted them to think.

"Well, this has been a time." He announces, snapping his fingers to open a portal to his house. "But I have to run. My lady needs a knowledgeable hand to help her-"

"Enough," Batman growls. Though he has complete control over his emotions, John can tell he's irritated by the meaningless detail. He smirks as the hero waves a hand, "Just go."

He offers the rest of the meeting room a cheeky two-finger salute as he struts out, letting the portal close behind him so his trench coat flares dramatically. It's a nice view, he's sure, but it's also unnecessarily showy, and he is sure at least three pairs of eyes are rolling at his exit.

A chuckle escapes his mouth, straightening from his slouch to properly stand straight and bend it far enough to pop. Goodness, his act always leaves him with a sore upper back; maybe he shouldn't hunch over so much, even if he was playing the part of a no-good punk.

John only had a few seconds to shiver at his own thoughts- he was a punk. A real one! He was in a band!- before he heard the tell-tell sign of a rapidly approaching double set of footsteps echo down the hall. He scrambles to fling his lit cigarette into a water portal, chucking the pack for double security, while summoning a random suitcase from thin air.

All that's left is his rather eye-catching coat, a little too worn down and old to work well with his well-put-together outfit underneath. Without it, John has a clean, pressed white shirt, a respectful tie, and a pair of slacks that make more than one head turn as he walks.

All in all, he looks like the office businessman his worthless father always wanted to be.

John throws off his coat over a chair at the same time the door is thrown open with a pair of excited yells. "Welcome home, Dad!"

A grin stretched across his face before he could think about it, feeling his heart swell at the sight of them, as he knelt down, arms open wide. Two tiny bodies slam into him without a second of hesitation, nearly knocking John backwards.

He lets out a soft grunt as Dani's arms attempt to wrap around his left arm and right shoulder. She clashes against Danny, who's trying to bury himself into John's right side, little face squished against one of John's pecs, like a bunny burrowing into the snow.

"Hello, my little lambs!" He gushes, squeezing the kids close. "How was your day with the House of Mystery? Did you two behave?"

"They were angels," Black Orchid confirms, gliding into the room at a much slower pace. They had their regular, impassive expression on their faces, but John could tell that Orchid was happy with the kids by the way they gently tapped the tops of the children's black hair.

"Dad! Dad! Now that you're home, can we please go get my new ballet shoes?" Danny begs, bouncing on his toes.

For a moment, John doesn't see his son, but rather his own blue eyes staring up at his father, when he was also five, begging to join Lily, the next-door neighbor, in beginners' ballet class.

His father had beaten him nearly to death for wanting such a girly interest. It was the last time they spoke about it. It was also the last time John ever bothered asking to start new hobbies.

"Dad! Dad! Can I do Karate?" Dani asks then, snapping John from his memories better left buried, as she presses her check against her brother's in an attempt to get John's attention. "I want to break a board with my fist!"

He gives the children another squeeze, laughing at the squeals he gets. "Of course you can do karate, little lamb. We're going to get your brother his shoes, and then I'll find a gym that offers the classes at the same time."

"I already provided that service." Orchid cuts in, holding a flyer for Flying Graysons' gym, founded and run by the eldest Wayne in Gotham. "I took the liberty of signing Danny up for a class with Casnadra Wayne, and Dani will join Duke Thomas's class. It starts in a week."

"Plenty of time to go get them everything they need and a new book series for our bedtime stories," John announces, loosening his arms so his children can cheer and bounce up and down in excitement. His knee is starting to cramp up, but he ignores it so he can hold his kids.

It's moments like these, so small and mundane, that John is grateful he thought of his persona. When he first learned how to use the magic he was gifted, he always made himself available for any crisis.

This was before the Justice League days, so anyone who sought him out was familiar with the occult world. He adored helping, and he built an incredible amount of skill and knowledge in magic, but soon John was facing disaster after disaster, dragging his exhausted body from one place to another.

Those who came searching for him never cared. They wanted John to jump at the drop of a hat. He tried for years to always be ready, always be willing, but years of isolation and desperate battles tried him to the core.

Then he took in Danny and Dani, finding the pair of babies in a basket at the feet of the Sarcophagus of Forever Sleep. He had gone to investigate the legends of the famous King Pariah Dark, only to find what he assumed were originally sacrifices, well and truly alive.

Their names were attached to their feet with a letter written by a Jazz Fenton begging the two to grow and live well. She had died to save them. In her honor, John kept their names.

Daniel "Danny" Fenton and Danielle "Dani" Fenton. He often wondered what Jazz had been to the kids, with their identical last names. It is a question he will never get the answer to.

They could have been no older than five months, but when they opened their eyes and reached up for him, John realized he no longer wanted to be the go-to man of magic.

He wanted to be their father.

To discourage people from calling him away from his children, John created his persona of a man barely honorable enough to join a team. Over the five years of his raising his kids, his reputation plummeted until only Batman called to him unless absolutely necessary.

It was a breath of fresh air. John had fought for too long and too hard. He was retired now, just like his band days, the days when John would speed off to save the world were behind him. He only stepped in if a friend asked for a favor.

He had other priorities now.

The best part? The Justice League would never know that.

"Dad!" Dani screamed into his ear, making him grimace.

"Inside voice, darling."

"Sorry." She twirls her fingers, a nervous habit she picked up from John, before brightening up "I'm just super excited. Orichad said Mr. Bruce Wayne will be at the gym! Do you think he'll sign my Wayne Space shirt?"

Ah, yes, the man who was funding some space program or another. He only knew about this because his twins adored anything to do with space travel, as if though he couldn't just teleport them to a different planet.

"I'm sure he will, darling."

[satoshy12]

New Gotham SWAT Commander Danny

After the Joker once again took the Gotham Gala hostage, the people in the Gala were surprised, as for once the police were able to do anything about it. As the SWAT came in and shot Joker and his goons down.

And saved the Hostage? Bruce Wayne's daughter Cassandra. Not normal.

All were confused; normally, the cops just wait for Batman or fail.

It turns out Gotham had a new SWAT commander who took the shots on the Joker.

+

Danny was pissed but happy too; he just worked here because his mother's brother, Uncle James, works here too.

Then Dad sent him here to learn about police work and see different kinds of things, not just Amity Park. Just defusing Bombs seem to get boring for Danny.

And the first thing he did at his job was kill a clown gang?

Well worth it.

I have no idea why people look so surprised; it's just a clown with a gun, not Superman.

A gun does the job.

And Cass was here too, the last time he saw her was as she teached Ellie ballet.

As Danny was new, he had no real idea about the crime world of Gotham.

When the Gordons visit, they don't talk about Gotham, and the people in Amity Park never cared about the outside world.

They have their Fenton shield as a defense against alien invasions or similar.

Danny meet the cute Cass as she teached Ellie Ballet, who was the Joker took hostage.

Danny shooting Joker had nothing to do with Cass. He saw it later it was Cass after they were done.

Danny was professional and not lead by emotion. A new clean cop in Gotham.

[evilminji]

Broadway :3c

And I hear ya. (Insert spooky joke here) There is a sprawling WEB of central hubs, for The Arts. For trade. For getting drunk and having a good time. The Zone is large and it is endless. You'll NEVER reach the far end. It can never reach you.

All things, in gentle sweeping waves, across eternity.

So when folks want to have "a market" or "a movie theater" or "the waterpark"? You gotta PICK a point on the endless map. Figure if you are close or far enough away for others like it, to make it worth the effort to build.

You might even be the first to do it for GALAXIES in any direction! People might fly for WEEKS to come to your place! Move their Lairs to be closer too it. Like dust gathered by gravity, slowly creating planets and stars. A mega Lair. A CITY.

They rise, they fall, the Zone shifts all the while.

But!

Does the dead starlet stop singing? Does getting gunned down, stop the show?? I think NOT! Where is her STAGE? What musicals? What dramas? What operas and tragedies and forms unknown to human kind??! Ballet dancers who CAN defy gravity! Singers who have no NEED for air! The haunting blend of instruments, that could never in life have met! From empires long turned to ASH!

The greatest show in DEATH!

Ember was a world wide hit. Yes, her voice was hypnotic. But that could be FOUGHT. It was SKILL that carried the game. And she was hardly "I was Literally The Greatest My Planet Ever Produced" skilled. She was good, great even. Not "I was Born For Greatness" Excellence.

And like?

.....eventually? Danny's gonna ask after "cultural-y" Culture stuff. Clothes and food. Music and the arts. To help his parents get used to the whole "our son is half-dead" thing. To show he's not some mindless monster now.

And? Ghostwriter? Probably an absolute legend. Does he know where you can find some CULTURE? Oh THANK ZONE! He thought you'd NEVER ask! You unsophisticated-! *fist fight in a library* Still a dick, though. Always and forever.

And just? Imagine Broadway stretched out into a floating city. That never sleeps. Never stops. Shows ever changing. Some on a cycle, some only once. Dream-like. Beautiful. Eye catching.

And yeah, Danny didn't think he LIKED musicals. It was more of a Jazz thing. But? This was important! Gotta get the whole family in the Speeder. We're going to see a play, guys! We'll pick when we get there! Family road trip! Educational! We can make notes!

His parents are trying to be supportive. Big, fixed, strained grins. Trying to pretend to be excited. But they... DO seem reluctantly intrigued? And Jazz is all but vibrating in her seat. It's basically her "before you go away to college" present. And she is THRILLED.

The longer she excitedly speculates? The more into it she gets their folks. This IS gonna be new! Exciting! Never before seen Ghost Culture! Music! As a FAMILY! Think we could find souvenirs? Ooooh, wonder if they sell CDs??!

Then? They GET there. And it's... it's like seeing the Las Vegas strip for the first time, except multiplied into a city. Made of even MORE styles and eras. At angles gravity would never allow.

The air filled with laughter and excitement, people rushing to shows or humming bits of tunes. Street stalls. Fountains. Flowers growing everywhere.

They could stay for months and not even reach a fraction of these buildings. His parents are taking countless photos. His sister squeeling with joy as she races for an information kiosk like they just arrived at Disneyland. He, at least, remembers to lock up the Speeder. Grab their day bags.

When did HE become the responsible one?

The argue over shows. Obviously. Wouldn't be Fenton's otherwise. HE wants to see the alien one. It's from mars! But it's his sister's trip, as his dad points out, so she gets to choose. She picks a musical set during the Fall of Krpton. He's... reluctantly kinda interested. I mean, EVERYBODY likes Superman, right?

It's... it's amazing. Terrible, but amazing. I mean? A coming of age story cut tragically short? Oof. Hello, massively projecting then getting FEELS about it! Yeah, sure, rip my heart out why don't you? He's fine. No, really! Just drowning in his own emotions over here. The refrain of "A Life Well Lived"? *gargling dying whale noises* he's FINE. Not grappling with anything! Go on without him!

Thankfully?

They DO sell CDs.

He... he may end up, kinda, getting a bit of a collection. Going on the weekends, hoping show to show. Wandering to whichever catches his eye in the moment. Buying the CDs for one's he likes. Which? Honestly is a lot of them. Even though there's all sorts of genres and languages. Cause it... it RESONATES you know?

The grief. The anger. The "I have died but I wasn't FINISHED. It isn't FAIR.". And? Something about ghost speak flows so BEAUTIFULLY in song? It's hard to explain. But he... he needs them.

A pair of headphones, a CD, and a clear night sky? Nothing touches it. It's like a trance made of light. Like he can just drift.

The problem? Is the CDs are kinda... Zone made? They're radioactive, for one. Nothing a Fenton CD player can't handle. But... they? Also? Kinda fuckin GLOW? Like... very, very noticeably. And not in a "ha ha, cool glow in the dark paint!" Sorta way.

.........but like FUCK is he leaving his music behind when he goes to college. Gotham will have to deal. It's already a burning shit-nado, it can handle this. Probably. He'll put um in a lead lined box. Actually, speaking OF.... he needs to get a few more of those... *goes back to packing*

Which? Is how? The Bats are treated to some of the most HAUNTING music they've ever heard, belted and crooned from Some Guy's speakers, out an open window, on the "stop for a mid-patrol drink of water and a snack" building. It's one of the intersections of their patrol routes. And THAT? That is some dude listening to a Romani ballad about death and the circus. Now it's a musical about the trenches of an obscure war.

Okay, that was DEFINITELY Kryptonian. Like... coherent Krypto- *Bruce gets a call from Clark on his "work" number DEMANDING to know where that is coming from. Who is that voice Bruce?!* huh.... Well Then.

@hdgnj @hypewinter @nerdpoe @lolottes @babbling-babull @spidori @mutable-manifestation @the-witchhunter

[radiance1]

Multiple businesses have suddenly been handed over to one man under the name of Masters. Multiple businesses who have some type of corruption one way or another.

The Wayne's wouldn't have even noticed, really, if the same wasn't happening in Gotham city.

It was alarming, really. Whoever Masters was he new how to pick his targets, businesses which are either small enough to go ignored, about to go bankrupt, or had rumors (which were true) about dabbling in crime.

All the businesses he took seemingly flourished under his hands, with not even a single corner being dipped in crime. Whoever Masters was, he was undoubtably a successful businessman, he managed to built an empire that was soon capable of rivaling both Lexcorp Wayne Foundation in a few years, and he was an incredibly elusive man himself.

No one knew what he looked like, nor his first name.

Only his last, Masters.

On a different note, there was another thing Tim was looking into. A new restaurant/ice cream parlor which opened up recently, it just opened up out of the blue, owned by a family that just appeared in Gotham one day.

From what he checked, there wasn't any records about any of them anywhere Tim could find, like literally nothing. Almost like they didn't exist prior to the day they opened.

There was only three people who owned the store. Vlad- no last name- the cook and owner, Danny- again, no last name- the cashier and Jasmine- once again, no last name- the waitress.

He had a suspicion- no he was very sure that Danny was a meta, one who had power over ice. They never ran out of ice, the space behind his counter was always cold (Well he did man the ice cream parlor and the drinks, but still), he quite literally watched the guy freeze someone's coffee when they tried to complain it was too hot and the most damming thing.

Their ice cream machine was never, not even once, broken.

Vlad was most definitely a fire meta, the temperature always seemed to rise whenever he was in the room, and his kitchen was a goddamn furnace, no one who didn't have at least some kind of fire resistance would be able to go in there with an apron and stay there for hours on end.

He was also very defensive over his kitchen for some reason, Tim thought it was because of the insane heat which might be part of the reason, but even to his own workers he doesn't allow them inside. Tim managed to overhear his reason as to why though.

"No offense, and in the most respectful way I can put this. But you two just throw food in the oven and hope it doesn't gain sentience."

Tim thinks he probably didn't mean that literally.

Jasmine couldn't be flagged as a meta, but he does think there's something about her. Probably has a pretty solid foundation in martial arts, or ballet, because her balance is impeccable. He quite literally watched her dance her over to different tables with multiple plates on her body.

Tim didn't think there was any type of connection between the Masters takeover and the restaurant, and technically he should be alerting Bruce to the two new metas in Gotham but.

They have a coffee to die for.

No, he should probably be telling Bruce, or at least another one of the family...

Maybe after he stops by and grabs himself a coffee, oh and most definitely one of their ice creams too.

[hotvintagepoll]

Danny Kaye (The Court Jester, The Inspector General)—Danny Kaye, idol of my childhood, maker of the weirdest faces! This man SETS HIMSELF ON FIRE and then puts himself out in a bucket in a movie based on a Gogol short story. In the same movie (Inspector General), he flirts by playing a carrot as a musical instrument. In Wonder Man, he's brilliant but struggles with things like riding buses. I have been envious of his fake Italian/French/German/Spanish monologues in The Court Jester for the past three decades. As Walter Mitty, he is SUPREMELY SILLY yet also somehow manages to be a comic foil for none other than Boris Karloff. All this is to say nothing of The William Tell Song (TV, thus not linked, but great.) I adore him.

Robert Helpmann (The Red Shoes, Chitty Chitty Bang Bang)—an extremely enticing combination of graceful and balletic and scrungly weirdo who looks kind of like if you put fred astaire and young boris karloff circa the black cat into the splicer machine from the fly. a literal actual ballet dancer, choreographer, shakespeare actor, and theater director, who left a mark on the psyches of many children as the terrifying child catcher in chitty chitty bang bang. undeniably scrungly but elegant and spidery in his scrungliness. in powell and pressburger's opera film tales of hoffmann he can be seen playing four different characters!

This is round 3 of the contest. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. If you’re confused on what a scrungle is, or any of the rules of the contest, click here.

[additional submitted propaganda + scrungly videos under the cut]

Danny Kaye:

He's so stupid. I love him.

Robert Helpmann:

In the interests of honesty i will say that I have only seen Robert Helpmann in Chitty Chitty Bang Bang , but honestly does it get weirder, scrunglier or more delightfully creepy than the Child Catcher? REALLY. He is so gracefully off-putting (and thereby utterly captivating). One of my very favourite aspects in one of my favorite chilhood movies. And ASIDE from the child catcher, just LOOK AT HIM!!!

I know we all know him from our childhood traumas from Chitty, but he was also an extremely talented dancer. you can see him here in the red shoes (he is the one who plays her lover).

[sparrowofthedawnsworld]

Last Minute Changes - Jake Kiszka’s Version

A/N: Remember when I said Sam was Tchaikovsky: The Nutcracker coded?? Yeah, well… So is Jake, and since we have now experienced so much Ballerina Jake on stage, I just couldn’t help myself. Also disclaimer, I haven’t done ballet in 5+ years now, so please forgive me if I misname anything. Also, if you are not familiar with the Nutcracker pas de deux, I have linked it HERE for you to go watch (I recommend watching it before reading this, if you have the time or even just the desire to!). Please excuse any errors as always, and I hope you all like it! <3

WARNINGS: Excessive language, excessive practicing, some name calling (bitch, asshole, etc), hate!fucking, asshole!Jake, degradation, fingering, edging, slight mirror play, overstimulation, choking, biting, sort of public sex? sex in a studio, unprotected sex.

MASTERLIST

••••

“You two will be excellent together!” You can hear the smile in your choreographer’s voice. At least one of you is excited. “Well, have a lovely day, dear and I will see you back tomorrow to continue rehearsals.”

You say your goodbyes and hang up the phone, immediately sighing to yourself as you toss your phone to the side.

This is just great, you think to yourself.

What are the odds that the original Cavalier would suffer an injury and have to back out and Jake of all people, will be the one stepping in. It’s a serious lose/lose situation for all parties involved.

It has been quite some time since you’ve worked with Jake Kiszka, but to your knowledge he is no different than he used to be. Arrogant, cocky and an absolute asshole. Not to mention, the extensive hours that he chooses to practice are arguably a little unhealthy and excessive. Though, you have to give a nod to the way he strives for perfection. He’s one of the most talented dancers within the Ballet company the two of you work for. It’s admirable in its own sort of fucked up way.

Not that you don’t strive for that same level of perfection, you just have a different view and approach on how to get there.

After a moment or two of sulking, you decide to call Danny. A fellow dancer at your company and one of your best friends - but also a pretty close friend of Jake’s, you’re almost certain.

The phone barely rings twice before an excited Danny is answering the phone.

“Hello?” Danny’s voice finally cuts through, warm and genuine. As it always is.

“Hey! So uhm…” you start to trail off. “You know Anthony, right ? The guy who was originally the Cavalier?”

“I do, why? What happened?” He asks, concern and curiosity seeping into the way he speaks. “You sound kinda upset...”

“Oh, I’m definitely upset… Anthony has an injury and is being required to take a break…” you pause for a moment, before adding more details. “I mean, he seemed to be in some pain when we were practicing last night, but he told me not to worry.” A long sigh pushes out of your lungs. “But, now Jake is Cavalier...”

What you can only assume is slightly stunned silence, takes over his end of the phone.

“Jake…?” He questions finally. You can practically see his raised eyebrows and wide eyes. “Jake is Cavalier now?”

“Yeah…” You confirm, sighing heavily at the incredibly draining thought of it. “Danny, I don’t even know what to do.”

“Are you joking? What do you mean you ‘don’t know what to do?’” Danny practically scoffs at your words. “You’ve always wanted this part. You would really let Jake ruin this for you? That’s kinda ridiculous, bug.” He scolds you. “Not only that, but you’re already well into rehearsals. You’ve only got a few days left before dress rehearsals start up.”

“Danny, Have you not worked with him?!” You laugh humorously into the phone. “He’s an ass. A complete and total fucking ass.”

Danny laughs at your little outburst, immediately taking up for his friend. “I have and… yes, he can be a lot to handle, but he’s a perfectionist. Everything he does on stage has to be perfect, in his mind.”

You bite at your bottom lip, not at all soothed by Danny’s words whatsoever. You’d made up your mind about Jake and that was that.

“You two will be phenomenal together,” Danny says, breaking the moment of silence. “Give it a go. Don’t just throw away your dreams of doing sugar plum just because of this.”

“I’m really not… it’s just… I really don’t wanna have to do that pas de deux with Jake.” His name spits out of you with pure distaste, making Danny laugh lightly. You can imagine the gentle shake of his head, too.

“Like I said… you two will be amazing,” Danny reiterates, tone warm and genuine. “Don’t stress it too much. Just do what you do best and I’m sure everything will be cool.”

<>

The first few days of rehearsing with Jake go… well, anything but smoothly. Things are rocky and feel out of place, some parts of the routine having to be changed to suite you and Jake, instead of you and your original partner, Anthony.

And today’s practice rolls around too quickly, just like the last three days have. You go to bed, only to wake up feeling like you only slept for a solid five minutes, before you have to get up and reconvene with Jake all over again.

For the first time since joining this professional company, it feels like actual work. Not that it isn’t always work, but you’ve not ever felt this genuinely frustrated by the thought of going to the studio.

The door of the building slams closed behind you, finally separating you from the chilly, early December air.

You make your way down the long hallway, towards the room that your instructor had originally assigned for you and Anthony to use for practicing your Pas De Deux, but has now been for you and Jake.

As you reach the door, you can’t hear anything from the other side of it, and you wonder if Jake is even around yet. In all fairness, you are incredibly early. However, you’ve come to know that Jake takes early to a whole new level.

You open up the door to find he’s nowhere to be seen. Though he isn’t present just yet, realization is like a slap across the face, as it has been each day since you’ve started rehearsing with Jake.

It hits you in a brand new wave. Every. Single Day: This is really happening. You are stuck with Jake from now, until the end of the run.

But, there’s never enough time to dwell on what’s already in motion - which you’ve come to realize that it’s probably better off that way. You shove all the thoughts and feelings stirring up, as far back as they will go, placing your bag and coffee down, so you can begin getting ready to warm up.

Unfortunately for you, not nearly enough time passes before the sound of the door handle is beckoning for your attention and Jake is stepping through the doorway.

You turn to face him, a tight lipped smile being the only thing he offers you as he turns around to close the door. So, you return the half-assed smile and go back to putting on your pointe shoes and stretching out.

The more you spend time rehearsing with him, the more you realize that truly, he’s absolutely gorgeous. Quite possibly the most beautiful man you’ve ever had the pleasure of dancing with. But, it isn’t really feeling so much like a pleasure to actually be dancing with him.

You swallow down the annoyance already bubbling up, “Do you need to warm-“

“I warmed up already,” Jake cuts you off before you can even finish your question. “I’ve been here for a while working on my variation.”

He places his things down, then makes his way over to you.

The annoyance floods right back in like it never even left, “Alright, then.”

“Let’s work on those new pieces we added.” It comes out as a command, setting your body even more ablaze.

“No need to get all bossy, Jacob.” You bite rather harshly. “That’s what I’m here for. Not to just bullshit around.”

“I wasn’t-“ Jake stops himself short, the two words sounding very defensive and annoyed.

The audacity for HIM to be annoyed.

He sucks in a sharp breath, trying to calm himself. “I wasn’t trying to be commanding.”

“Whatever.” You glare up at him, filling the space between you with even more tension.

“We can just carefully skim through the whole thing, sans the lifts, if you’d like.”

He stares at you with what can only be read as a stunned expression for a moment, before shrugging his shoulders and reaching up to roll the sleeves of his shirt.

“Ready?” Jake extends his hand out towards you, while clearly trying his best to release the unwanted tension in his shoulders.

You take his hand and let him guide you, stepping through slowly until you reach the first lift.

“Aaaand we’re skipping this part,” Jake sings in a mumble, moving with you into the next few steps.

You move with him flawlessly through it all, letting him guide you around the floor. It might even feel nice, if it isn’t for the raging distaste you have for him.

The softness of the which he handles you, doesn’t go unnoticed, though. You notice it almost right away and it slips you into a distracted daze, focusing more on the way his face keeps a calm and even expression and his body moves so fluently.

“Shit!” Jake hisses suddenly, quickly followed by a gasp from you as you bump into his body, causing you both to stumble. “Are you even paying attention?! Goddamn.”

“You grabbed my arm wrong.” You lie quickly, smirking internally as you watch pure annoyance start to show itself all over his face at even the suggestion that he’d messed up.

“You’re joking, right?” Jake snaps at you, practically burning holes into your head with his intense stare.

“No, I’m not joking.” You fire back, trying to make your eyes just as cold and harsh as his are, “There’s a lift there, Jacob.”

Any sort of normal, appropriate volume for the space the two of you occupy is suddenly out of the window completely.

“We aren’t even doing the fucking lifts right now!” Jake’s hands fly into the air dramatically.

“Jesus Christ. This is already giving me a fucking headache.” Your fingers rub at your temples and you fight to not raise you voice like Jake just had. “Let’s just start over? We can do the damn lifts this time, if that makes you happier.”

“Just don’t fucking kill yourself.” Jake mumbles, adjusting the bun hanging lowly at the back of his head.

“If something happens to me, it’ll be because you’ve dropped me.” You scoff, emphasizing with an intense eye roll. “And I wouldn’t put that past you.”

For once, you seem to have stunned him into silence for a brief moment.

“Are you not capable of just fucking practicing?” Jake questions, dropping his arms down to his sides, his shoulders slumping. “Or is it always just going to be a bitching contest?” He takes a step closer to you, pointing and finger at your face. “Because if so, I fucking quit. They can find you a new partner.”

There’s barely a beat of crippling silence before he’s adding on, “And good luck getting your shit together with him before dress rehearsal in three days.”

Your jaw drops as shock washes over you. The first instinct of your body is to simply just reach up and smack him, however, it’s not worth the consequences that will surely follow such an action.

Getting down on the floor, you start frantically untying your pointe shoes.

“What are you doing?” Jake’s volume is still a little too loud for a place of work. “Get up.”

“I have a fucking better idea-“ You pull both pointe shoes off quickly and stand back up. “Find yourself a new partner, dick.”

With that, you storm over to your bag and drop your pointe shoes inside. You grab your regular shoes and your bag, not even turning back to look at him as you make your way to the door.

So much force is put behind your movements as you jerk the door open and slam it closed as you leave.

“Woah, there, hot stuff…” Josh greets you, with an air of caution to his tone. “What’s got you so pissed off?”

“Your twin.” You respond flatly. No emotion for him to gauge in your tone whatsoever as you continue storming down the hallway.

“Right, right… Cause he got…” he sighs, trailing off.

“Yeah…”

“How about we go take a little break?” Josh suggests as he catches up with you, stopping you in your tracks. “I was about to go grab some coffee on my way home, but you can come along and i’ll just bring you back here after?”

Though, you aren’t sure if you’ll even want to come back yet, you give him a slight nod, and that’s all he needs before his arm is motioning for you to follow him.

The two of you walk to his car in silence for a minute, until you’re both inside and buckled in.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Josh asks as he starts his car.

A strained sigh forces its way out of your lungs.

“I mean…He’s just…” you pause, trying to word yourself carefully as you don’t want to disrespect Josh by talking so harshly about his brother.

But Josh beats you to the proper words you’re searching so hard for. “Hard to work with?”

You hold back the scoff that bubbles up in your throat. “Yeah… Yeah, that’s one way to put it.”

Much to your surprise, a genuine giggle leaves Josh’s lips as he drives through the little bit of lunch hour traffic lingering on the streets of the city.

“You don’t have to sugar coat it, love,” he assures you, flashing you a quick smile. “I know he can be a bit… mm…difficult.”

“He acts like I’m not also just as much of a perfectionist! I don’t get it!” Your hands gesture up for emphasis, slamming back down into your lap with a soft smack. “I felt like I was having to walk on egg shells earlier.”

“I wish I could sit here and tell you that things will get better, but…” Josh trails off, running his hand over his face. “This part is stressing him out. He never expected to be doing it… I know he doesn’t want to fuck it up. Now, that doesn’t excuse his actions, but just…give him some time. He will loosen up eventually. Hopefully…”

Despite Josh’s words being true, you don’t feel as though they’ve really soothed you very much, if at all.

“You haven’t danced with him in a really long time, either and you dance differently now. I mean that in a good way, but Jake is also having to learn how you work now, on top of everything on his end.” Josh adds, having sensed the uncertainty still lingering on your face.

“I’m not going to lie to you… I’ve been fucking up, too.” You tell him honestly. “Like our routine.”

Josh looks over at you, clearly surprised. “You? You’ve been fucking up?” He questions. “How? I watched you and Anthony do it just last week and it was beautiful!”

“I… I don’t know. I guess Jake just… makes me nervous?” You admit.

Josh turns his face towards the window, trying to hide the grin tugging at his lips until he can collect himself.

But before Josh even has the chance to formulate a response to that, you’re asking him the question that’s been burning your brain since you left the studio.

“Do you think he’ll still be there when we get back?” You ask him softly. The fear of having to go to your director and explain such an outburst between you and Jake, settling deep within your bones. Or worse, Jake has already gone to someone and explained the situation, ultimately kicking you from your role.

“I can assure you, he’ll be there when we get back.” Josh answers seriously. “He isn’t going anywhere.

The conversation about Jake drops for the remainder of your little adventure. Until you’re watching the studio slowly come back into your line of sight, as Josh drives the two of you back.

“What if he’s still mad?” You can’t help but bring the situation back to the surface.

Josh’s shoulders slump slightly, and he seems to be thinking about the best way to answer you. Because the sickening truth is, even he knows that Jake is probably still boiling below the surface, just waiting for another fuck up from you, or anyone else, to send him exploding all over again.

“Just… Don’t go back in guns blazing…” He tells you, trying to choose his words carefully. “Try to be level headed and just get as much practice in as you can. The more you dance, the less room you leave for talking…or an argument. Ya know, whichever... And hopefully, the nerves will ease up little by little, then he won’t have anything to be a shithead over.”

“Right. Because that really worked earlier.” You finally let the scoff you’ve been choking back slip out. “I’ll try again, anyway. Thank you, Josh.”

“Anytime, love. Anytime.” He waves you off with a smile as you close the door and head back inside.

“Hey!”

Just before you step inside, you hear Josh calling for you and you turn around to face him.

“If you need me to come back and beat his ass, just call!”

Your head falls back as a genuine laugh explodes from your lungs. The most you’ve laughed all day, really, and it feels lovely.

Shaking your head, it’s your turn to wave him off, trying to get inside before the cold starts to make your bones ache any more than it already has.

It’s quiet, as you’re reaching the later hours of the afternoon, daylight just barely lingering still.

You make your way down the hall, back to the dreaded, mirrored, room that you and Jake have to continue to share. Assuming he’s still here… or he hasn’t had you replaced and you just don’t know it yet.

When you reach the door, you can hear the familiar song playing from the other side. The doorknob is freezing cold beneath your hand, a drastic contrast to the heat of anger still somehow lingering in your body. Shoving it open slowly, careful not to disturb who you can only assume is Jake, you peak your head in first to see him practicing all on his own.

His movements are flawless. Each step he takes and every movement of his arms, so precise and strong. The white tights he’s wearing accentuate the muscles running throughout his legs, his black t-shirt hugging his shoulders just so. He holds himself with utmost confidence, his eyes never casting themselves to the floor, looking out into an imaginary audience, or at an imaginary partner, when his attention is meant to be focused on her.

Suddenly, you become very aware that you wish to be the one under that gentle, but attentive gaze of his - completely unlike the way he had looked at you earlier. While you may be his partner, he won’t ever look at you that way -gentle and attentive- until he’s on stage and even then, it likely won’t feel real. It will be nothing but acting. It stings, but you shove the sour feeling deep down inside you and step fully back into the room.

“Can you turn the music off for a second?” You ask him, trying to keep a cool and collected tone.

The sound of annoyance Jake lets out doesn’t miss your ears, despite the music still playing.

He walks over and pauses the music, turning to you with an expectant look - just waiting for you to have a damn good reason for essentially asking him to stop what he had been doing. As if the two of you don’t have a lot more work to do.

“I’m…sorry for earlier.” The words are a bit strained as they leave you. What’s to be expected, though? You don’t really want to apologize to him, but you know it’s the right thing to do.

“It’s alright.” Jake mutters, barely nodding his head in acknowledgement to your apology. “I’m sorry, too. Let’s just get back to it, yeah?”

You’re stunned for a moment by his returned apology, having not expected him to give you one at all. Although, you can’t bring yourself to open space for any hope that things are maybe going to get better from here. That’s something you won’t believe until you see it happening consistently. Besides, there’s still an obvious hint of something unpleasant in his tone.

“Yeah, okay…” you agree, sitting your things down. “If you want, we can just work on the lifts for a while… ya know, just for a change of pace.”

The air in the room seems thick with awkwardness, of which you’re not helping to aid at all, being that your tone is rapidly fueling it and Jake without a doubt takes notice of that.

Though, he continues to act completely immune to the awkwardness filling the space. Leaving you to suffer in it all on your own.

After only offering you but a short and flat, “Sure,” you and Jake move on to the lifts. Of which go smoothly… Until they don’t.

“Fucking-“ Jake grunts, arms wobbling slightly as you struggle to find your balance in his hands. “Shit!”

No sooner than the curse of annoyance and distress rumbles out of him, you’re plummeting almost to the ground, Jake’s arms catching you just in time to save you from completely hitting the floor.

“God damnit,” Jake sighs, running a hand over his face once you are standing on your own two feet again.

“This one is just… I can’t get my balance right.” You admit to him. At least you’re being truthful.

You aren’t really sure why you’re having so much trouble. You had done these exact same lifts just fine with Anthony for weeks before Jake even became Cavalier.

Perhaps it was the tension between you and Jake. The mutual, very strong dislike for one another. The lingering bit of hostility from your’s and Jake’s outburst, not even two whole hours ago…

Or his hands on my body… Wait-

You’re quick to interject on your own thoughts. You simply cannot stand the idea of letting your mind wander off with such thoughts about Jake. You refuse to feel that way.

“I see that.” Jake’s words are once again dripping with that same amount of aggravation from earlier - Of which had lead to you storming out on him.

He throws a judgmental glance your way, likely wondering how you even got sugar plum in the first place.

“Let’s try again.” Jake steps behind you, placing his hands on your body just so, adjusting his stance as he prepares to lift you up into the air. Hopefully with more elegance and grace than the first time. “I’m going to count to three, and then you jump.”

You think you’re taking advantage of the fact that he can’t see your face, rolling your eyes at his commanding tone. Much to your misfortune, you seem to have briefly forgotten that you’re both facing a wall, perfectly lined with large mirrors.

“Can you drop the fucking attitude, for god’s sake?” Jake snaps in question, his hands squeezing where they’re planted just above your hips.

If looks could kill, the glare you send him through the mirror would have surely taken him out cold. “How bold of you to point fingers on someone’s attitude. I’m not the only one with an apparent attitude problem here.”

“I’m sorry? In case you haven’t noticed, you are the reason i’m irritated.” Jake is slowly starting to seethe again. You can tell by the way his jaw has clenched itself painfully tight.

You ignore his comment, just staring at him blankly for a moment before finally speaking up.

“Just…count to three. And lift me.” You enunciate your words firmly, sucking in a deep breath in attempts to prepare yourself.

Jake on the other hand, releases a long breath, rolling his shoulders back in hopes to relax his body, at least a little bit. “Fine, then.”

“One…” He begins to count, checking his grip on your waist. “Two…Three.”

The second he speaks the last number, you’re jumping just enough for him to gain the leverage needed to lift you up into the air above his head.

“Good. Good!” Jake praises from below you, watching you attentively through the mirror.

“Tighten your core just a little more,” He tells you, lowering you slightly as you start to wobble a bit. “Yeah, there you go.” He lifts you back up where you’re supposed to be. “Now, hold it.”

You extend your arms out, focusing solely on holding your pose. There’s still the slightest shake to your position, but you hold it pretty successfully, despite that.

“There it is.” The prideful tone of Jake’s voice makes you smile internally, though you’d spend your last drops of energy on keeping said smile off of your face for him to physically see.

“Okay, I’m gonna bring you down now…”

Jake slowly lowers you back down and you hold your next position until you feel your pointe shoe touch the hard floor.

“Thank fuck,” you sigh, relieved that it was somewhat smooth.

Of course, Jake can’t let the slightest little fuck up slide.

‘Everything has to be perfect, at least in his mind.’

“It was still shaky as hell.” Jake complains, giving a dramatic gesture with his hand.

You suck in a quick, sharp breath. The anger resurfacing is nearly blinding, clouding your vision in a red hue that you can’t hardly believe is really there.

“How do you suppose I fix that, then? Hm?” Your voice drips with a venom that’s so unlike you, normally.

“You practice more.” Jake says, as if it’s the most obvious fucking thing. Like you should have already known that.

“Wow. What prophetic fucking advice, Jake. I appreciate it,” you scoff, crossing your arms like a pouting child.

“Since you obviously don’t think you need it, let’s run it, then. Start to finish.” Jake suggests, knowing good and well he just wants to try and prove a point.

With a cool shrug of your shoulders, you agree. “Fine.”

Jake saunters over to his phone, where it lays right by the speaker sitting on one of the chairs, and presses play.

The familiar and oh-so beautiful orchestration starts to fill the room - it brings butterflies of realization to life in your stomach. This is your dream role and while you may be doing it with the absolute last person you would have ever picked on your own, you know in the end, once the two of you work out the kinks of your mutual dislike, you will be a flawless pair.

You take your first few steps that lead you to Jake, where you finally come to meet in the middle and delicately, you lay your hand atop of his palm. His fingers close carefully around your hand, then, lifting your arm above the two of you to slowly spin you around.

There seems to by a shift in the energy within the room and between the two of you, and it’s most certainly a welcomed shift.

As you continue through the routine, the new found comfort of dancing with him slowly overtakes you. Unfortunately, the burning sensation his hands leave in their wake as they help guide you, is making it harder and harder to focus. And of course, that only makes frustration bubble within you.

*Why can’t I dance with him? Why does he have to affect me so much? I don’t like him. He doesn’t like me.

Questions upon questions bounce around in your mind, inevitably distracting you from the important task at hand. It’s dangerous waters to swim in, the closer you get to the crescendo of the song; running the risk of one of you getting hurt somehow by lack of focus.

Focus. Focus. Focus.

You internally chant the word to yourself, desperately trying your best to pull your mind back to one collective place.

“Come back to me.” Jake’s tone is firm but not angry, as he prepares to bring you into the first lift.

Here goes nothing.

Forcing your brain to remain solely honed in on the task at hand, Jake’s hands find your waist and in the blink of an eye, he’s hoisting you into the air, much smoother and more elegantly than the first time.

And by some complete miracle, the first few lifts go flawlessly. Jake even finds it in himself to give a few mumbles of praise and encouragement as you go.

That confidence and momentum doesn’t carry through nearly as long as you hoped it would, though.

As the music builds and builds up to the first of what you would consider the “big” lifts, your heart rate increases. Suddenly your hands are clammy and a little shaky, and your stomach has twisted itself into a sickening knot.

Jake’s so into it, that you can’t bare the idea of asking him to stop, simply because your nerves have taken over. So, you continue into the lift, against your better judgement.

You make it into the air without much trouble, but as Jake brings you down into the next move, your form breaks and causes him to nearly drop you.

“Goddamn it!”

“Oh, my god!”

Both of your exclamations and curses fly out at the same time, only startling each other even more.

“Jesus christ, I knew you weren’t ready for that!” Jake shouts, hands running over his face as the adrenaline and realization of how hurt you could have just gotten, pumps through his entire body. “Do you even realize how fucking hurt you could have gotten just now?!”

“I am ready!” You argue right back, completely ignoring the hint of concern he was displaying for you.

“No, you are fucking not!” Jake’s voice booms, like a bang of thunder that shakes houses, after lightning has struck something. “We wouldn’t be having so much goddamn trouble if you were!”

“I didn’t have all these problems with Anthony,” you point out, matching his unruly volume. You even dare to take a step closer to him.

“What’s the difference?!” He practically screams, taking a step equal to the one you’d just taken. “We’re doing the same routine, for the same show! What. Is. The difference?!”

“Because you’re, you!” Your arms fly up into the air, before smacking back down against your sides.

Jake tilts his head back almost challengingly. “I’m what?”

“You’re the favorite! The one Everyone wants to have the fucking pleasure of dancing with!” You emphasize your words dramatically as you yell nearly right in his face. “You never fuck up anything! Ever!”

“And does that make you jealous?” Jake questions, his tone becoming smug and arrogant.

“No, it doesn’t make me jealous! It makes me nervous!”

Though half of the sentence is a lie; it definitely makes you both jealous and nervous, as soon as the words leave your mouth, you want to snatch them out of the air and shove them back in.

“Really?” Jake raises his eyebrows at you. “Nervous, huh?”

“Yes! Nervous, you fucking asshole!” You yell. “You’re arrogant as all hell and it’s absolutely insufferable, in case anyone hasn’t told you! It’s a nightmare trying to work with someone who is constantly picking apart every little move you make!”

“First of all-“ Jake wraps his hand around your pointed finger and shoves it roughly out of his face. “-Get your finger out of my damn face. And stop fucking yelling at me.” His eyes burn through yours, knocking you down a notch, but you refuse to outwardly show it. “Second, you shouldn’t be talking. You get everything handed to you, like the perfect, pretty little thing you are. You hardly have to work for shit.”

You snatch your finger out of his grip and immediately fire back at him. “I don’t get anything fucking handed to me.”

“But you do!” Jake chides, hardly making a legitimate point.

“No, YOU DO, Jake!” And now you’re back to screaming, throat threatening to go raw by the strain you’re putting on it. “How do you think we got here in the first fucking place!”

“If I got everything handed to me, don’t you think I would have had this from the beginning?!” Jake nearly closes the little space between the two of you, with one more step. “Don’t you think I would have gotten it first, instead of Anthony?!”

A wicked smirk grows on your face. “Right, right. So you’re just their backup, huh?” You watch as Jake’s face grows red and his eyes flash with rage. “Not even good enough to be cast as Cavalier the first time, are you?”

“You should be concerned about the fact that we start dress rehearsals in two days and you can’t even get all the damn lifts right.” Jake jabs.

His close proximity is making it hard to think anymore, the features of his beautiful, anger-hardened face proving to be a major distraction from the comeback you should have been already able to conjure up.

“Well, they- their hopes can’t be but so high, now that they’ve had to settle for you.”

Jake’s jaw visibly tenses, causing the muscles to protrude around his cheekbones and down his neck, the crease between his brows setting in even deeper.

Before you can even bat an eye, or open your mouth to add a little more gasoline to the already raging fire, Jake’s hand is tightly wrapping itself around the back of your neck.

“Is this entertaining you?” You can see Jake’s free hand gesture about, through your peripheral vision. “Being a little bitch?”

You’re frozen, stuck in place - not only because of his grip on you, but because you can’t decide if you actually want to move away.

One might find that name absolutely enraging, but apparently you don’t, considering the way your cunt throbs as the word travels from his mouth, to your ears.

“Fuck you.” You spit through gritted teeth.

“Would that make you less bitchy? If you fucked me? Hm?” Jake taunts, clearly taking in the newfound enjoyment he’s getting out of this.

“Call me a bitch again.” You say threateningly, but it holds no real weight. You just want to keep up the fight a little longer, perhaps a bit too addicted to the way he’s making your blood boil.

“Or what?” Jake all but growls, leaning his face in, so that he’s right next to your ear. “Are you gonna storm out of here like earlier? Like the little fucking brat you are?”

Your skin is screaming to feel his lips. They’re mere inches from your skin, the heat of his breath casting a heat that almost resembles when you sit just a little too close to a campfire.

“I bet you’d perform a lot better if I fucked you.” Jake speaks the wondering thought out loud. “Trained you to be a good little dancer for me.”

“Jake…” you sigh, chest heaving rapidly.

“What?” Jake seethes. “No smart ass comeback? No attitude?” He slides his other arm around your back, but doesn’t pull you quite close enough for your body to touch his. “Come on. Say something else. I dare you.”

Your thoughts spin around themselves as you attempt to conjure up another snarky comment, while Jake’s eyes stare intensely into yours, occasionally flickering down to your lips and right back up.

Finally, it comes to you.

“I’m not taking insults from a boy who probably can’t even fuck me hard enough to keep me out of rehearsal tomorrow.”

The silence that falls between you and Jake is deafening. You can hear your heartbeat in your ears, hear the blood running hot beneath your skin. If you listen close enough, you might even hear Jake’s heartbeat banging against his own ribcage, too.

Neither of you move for what feels like an eternity, only adding to the tension that’s already about to burst at the seams.

Jake’s mouth opens and closes quickly, but he still doesn’t speak - only adding to the torment of the moment. Anticipation fills you up so much, you feel like you may start throwing it up.

Slowly, Jake’s eyes narrow until they’re practically shut, and his hand tightens around the back of your neck tightens.

“Are you challenging me, sugar?” The name typically used for endearment, spits out of him like it’s anything but sweet. He’s so cleverly alluding to your role as sugar plum.

“I-If that’s how you wanna see it, go ahead.” You half choke out. Your words are becoming less and less intimidating and lethal as the moments go by. “Since you want to try and prove a point soo badly.”

“I don’t think you deserve anything else from me today.” Jake says, not even bothering to fight off the smirk pulling at the corner of his lips.

Shock fills you up the second the words float out from his mouth and you’re even more shocked at the way disappointment comes along to mix in with it. You may have been annoyed with him for petty shit before, but now you��re genuinely upset.

“W-what…?” The word is barely audible coming from your breathless lungs.

Jake lets go of you and steps away, taking little steps backwards in the direction of his things. The expression adorning his face is downright evil.

“I think you heard me loud and clear.” Jake shrugs, grabbing up his things. He doesn’t even bother to take off his shoes - likely just leaving you to go off to a different room and practice alone.

You watch him, completely dumbfounded as he makes his way to the door, not even giving you glance as he goes by.

The door opening feels so obnoxious, given the newfound silence hanging between the two of you. He’s about to step over the threshold, but turns around to face you one more time.

“See you tomorrow.” He glances over you for a moment, tongue visibly poking the inside of his cheek. “And you better not fuck up.”

<>

After a horrendous night filled with constant tossing and turning, the cool light of the gloomy morning wakes you up out of the sleep, that has only just found you a few hours ago.

Begrudgingly, you force yourself to get out of bed and take a shower, then dig out a pair of tights and one of your favorite leotards. And as much as you don’t want to acknowledge it, the brief question of whether or not Jake will like it, plants itself in your head. It’s black, with long sleeves, and the daintiest lace details at the top around the chest.

You force the thought away immediately. The mere mental thought of Jake making your body tense with anger, and… whatever the hell is left lingering from last night’s little… moment.

The drive to the studio is severely uneventful. Music being the only thing to keep you company throughout the short trip over there.

Seems like you’ve been living there these last few days. Which, might not be so bad if Jake wasn’t such a constant thorn in your side.

As the studio comes into view, a lump over nerves nearly makes you choke. Last night’s interesting turn, still at the forefront of your memory, despite your efforts in trying to ignore it.

You grab all your things and make your way to the door, walking as quickly as you possibly could to get out of the cold air. A swift glance around the parking lot as you go, is enough to see that Jake’s car is nowhere to be seen.

There’s no denying the relief that washes over you. Perhaps you’ll actually be free of Jake for a little longer than normal, to perfect some things by yourself, without the intense and judgmental stare of Jake’s eyes.

Just as you’ve hoped, as you walk down the hallway to your room, there’s nothing but silence on the other side of the door. But just to be safe, you slowly push it open and peak in, only to confirm that Jake is nowhere to be seen.

You take the opportunity to practice certain pieces of the pas alone, hoping to work through most of the imperfections that Jake has pointed out, time and time again.

What you don’t realize though, is how much time actually passes as you fall into a zone. Completely locked in on what you’re doing, practically floating around as though Jake is there to guide you, except you’re doing it all on your own.

Little did you know, Jake is standing at the door… admiring you just like you had done to him yesterday. For him, it’s different; his moment or slight admiration and ogling. He doesn’t have nearly as much trouble admitting to himself that he finds you ridiculously attractive and talented.

Will he say that directly to you? It isn’t likely, but to himself, he absolutely will. Although, the odds of him telling you his thoughts, are far more likely than you vocalizing your’s to him.

Jake stands, body halfway slipped between the cracked door, intently and quietly watching you. Until finally, you turn and your stop brings you to perfect face the door.

The sudden sight of Jake makes your entire body jolt, startled and unprepared to see him in such a random way.

“Jake!” You half screech, your hand coming to grasp at your now aching chest.

“My bad.” The softest chuckle dances with his words. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

“It’s fine…” you mumble.

Looking at him for the first time since last night is… definitely different, to say the very least.

The air in the room has shifted and it feels so heavy that it may crush you. Given Jake’s cocky strutting across the room, you guess that he doesn’t feel it the way that you do, or he’s doing a really good job at ignoring it. Like he always does. Yet another thing about him that you envy; his ability to be so unaffected.

“You- uhm… How long were you watching from the door?” You ask him timidly, chancing a quick glance at him as he sits down his things.

“Long enough to see that you’re perfectly capable of a flawless and confident routine.” Jake replies, bringing a soft, pink tint to your cheeks. “Which I suppose is great, except you can’t seem to do that with me.” His tone is the slightest bit playful, but you can’t ignore the way it claws at your skin.

“A bit early to be making digs, don’t you think, Jake?” You raise an eyebrow at him, awaiting the death glare he’s sure to throw towards you any second now.

But it doesn’t come. He just ignores your little muse all together, continuing to stretch and warm up.

Silence falls over you both, as you work on a few moves on the opposite side of the room in front of the mirrors.

Occasionally, you glance over your shoulder through the mirror at Jake, but you don’t let your eyes linger on him for too long, in favor of not getting caught and the refusal to let yourself get carried away.

After a few minutes, you catch a glimpse of Jake getting up and setting up his phone with the speakers, before making his way towards you and finally speaking up.

“Ready to run this thing?” He rubs his hands together in front of him.

“As I’ll ever be,” you mumble in response and follow him back over to the middle of the floor.

Jake steps back to his phone and presses play, bringing the beautiful instrumental to life throughout the whole room.

It eases you, much to your surprise. But not enough to ignore the fires that Jake’s hands seem to be lightning, gradually, all over your body in each place that he touches you.

You do your absolute best to try and remain calm and collected, focusing solely on the dance and nothing else.

Further and further you sink into the routine, and so does Jake. It’s evident in the electric energy that’s suddenly buzzing throughout

the room. The way Jake’s eyes stare into yours so intensely, it makes your knees want to give out beneath your weight. The passion of which he’s exuding…

The way he grips your body to lift you up into the air, unintentionally gripping you harder and harder with each passing lift, until you’re certain he’s going to crush you.

You’re not sure what exactly snaps in your brain, but when it snaps, there is no going back.

"Jesus fucking christ- Put me down!" You yell over the music and Jake immediately brings you back down on your own two feet, but not exactly gently.

"Fuck- what now?!” Jake hisses through his labored breathing. “Can you not go two minutes without bitching?!”

"You have a fucking death grip on me!” You grab at his bicep for emphasis. “Are you trying to bruise me!?”

“You should feel so lucky.” Jake spits back, sarcasm mixing with cockiness in his tone.

“Oh, shut the fuck up Jacob!” You screech in his face. “The last thing I want is you leaving any kind of marks on my body.”

“Trust me, princess, I'm not interested anyway." Jake fumes, face red and jaw set tight, nose glistening with the lightest layer of sweat.

“I’m not either!” It feels like a lie, the second it leaves your mouth. But the volume behind your words, masks the way you hardly believe it yourself. “You’re just an arrogant, self centered, asshole, who always has to get his own fucking way with everything!”

“And you're a fucking bitch who never knows when to shut her mouth." Jake practically growls, his face just inches from yours.

"You’re such a piece of shit." You retaliate lowly.

"Back atcha, princess.” Jake grits, the muscles in his cheeks and neck pulsing rapidly.

"Stop. Fucking. Calling me that.” You demand.

"No.” Jake shakes his head, pushing his tongue into his cheek. “No, I don’t think I will.” He adds. "All you ever do is bitch and complain about me doing something wrong and it's so irritating. I know what the hell i I'm doing. I'm a fucking professional. It is not my fault that you're so goddamn picky about every little thing!"

"Well, excuse me for wanting to do this perfectly!” You shout back at him, praying internally that this explosion between the two of you hasn’t drawn any attention outside of the room.

"How ironic.” Jake chuckles humorlessly. “Sorry to burst your bubble, Sugar plum, but you're not even close to it.”

"It would be perfect if you didn't grab me like a caveman!” You chide, feeling the sting of Jake’s words prickling under your skin.

"It would be perfect if you stopped squirming every time i lift you!” Jake argues, throwing his hands into the air.

"Maybe if I fucking trusted you, I wouldn't get nervous when you have me in the air!” You shoot back.

“You know that’s not really why you get shaky when I lift you, but whatever.” Jake scoffs, rolling his eyes. "Maybe aybe if you weren't such a hateful little shit, you'd be able to at least pretend to trust me."

"You. Are insufferable.” You turn to walk away from him, leaving Jake glued to his spot as his brain processes what he’s about to say.

"And you clearly need to be put in your goddamn place." Jake says, stopping you in your tracks.

You turn back around to face him, taking a few little steps forward defiantly. "I fucking dare you to try.”

The challenge spits out of you, and not a bit of you thinks he’ll really see it, considering he had the opportunity last night and trashed it.

"You couldn't handle it.” Jake says simply. His words only raise your anger somehow.

"I hate you.” You seethe, closing in on him with a pointed finger.

"Not nearly as much as I fucking hate you.” He flashes you the fakest smile you’ve ever seen in your life, immediately dropping his face back to his previous, stone cold expression.

The tension hanging in the room is so thick, even a chainsaw would likely struggle to cut it. A deafening silence falls over the two of you, nothing but the sounds of both your heavy breaths to fill it.

Your teeth are so tightly gritted together, you worry they may shatter any second now as you await his next move. Because you certainly are not backing down first, from this eerily silent stand off.

Jake’s face is still sharp and set with anger, not even a glimmer of that chocolaty brown left in his eyes.

Just as you open your mouth to foolishly provoke him even more, he’s lunging for you, roughly gripping either side of your face as his lips sloppily crash into yours. You can’t stop yourself from kissing him back. He tastes intoxicating in the best and worst way. A drug that now that you’ve had just a taste of, you aren’t sure you’ll be able to put it down.

Haphazardly, Jake starts guiding you backwards towards the barre, not even breaking the kiss to make sure that’s where he is going. Like a man about to die of thirst, he drinks in the whimper that you release, as your back collides with the barre. His hands find your wrists, and he shoves them up above your head and pins them there.

“Tell me to stop.” He huffs out through rapid breaths, free hand staying planted on the wall by your arm.

"I thought you were putting me in my place.” You narrow your eyes at him. “Or are you all talk?"

Jake just growls, swiftly reaching down to cup your heat, making you gasp desperately. His foot kicks your legs farther apart, middle and ring fingers stroking over you so lightly, you could scream.

Except you can’t. You’ve been struck with utter speechlessness, thanks to the sudden advance and the merciless ache he’s creating between your legs.

“What? Nothing to say now?” Jake questions tauntingly. “I think this is the longest you've been quiet around me. It’s truly a nice change"

“M-maybe you're just not doing a good enough job," you stutter, pressing yourself into the palm of his hand.

"The way you’re stuttering and the wet spot that I can feel right here, says otherwise.” Jake’s fingers tap against you.

You let out an exhale that is dripping with attitude, but make no move to break away from Jake. And you won’t, really. You both know that at this point.

“Do you get tired?” Jake mumbles, leaning in to ghost his lips over your cheek. They trace around, until he settles on your ear. “Do you get tired of being so defiant? Being a fucking brat and causing me so many stresses? Does it get you off?”

“What if it does?” You answer in a whisper, trying to turn your head towards his, but he isn’t having it.

His hand comes up from between your legs and wraps around your throat, causing you to whimper at the loss of contact.

“Let’s get something clear,” Jake starts lowly, his voice rumbling like nearby thunder as he begins to warn you. “Drop the fucking games, or I’ll make sure to fuck you so hard, you’ll have to fucking crawl your way out of here tonight.”

“I will never give you such satisfaction.” You know you’re about to eat these words, but you can’t find it within your being to care.

Faster than what your brain is capable of processing at this point, Jake is turning you around to face the mirror, leaving you no choice but to grip the barre in front of you.

“Then take it.” Jake says, pressing himself against your ass and wrapping his other hand around your jaw. “Take everything I fucking give you, right here. And when I’m done-“ He uses the grip to turn your head towards the door. “-I can’t wait to watch you limp to that fucking door.”

Jake’s hand abandons your jaw, his fingers hooking themselves around the top of your leotard and pushing it off your shoulders. You help him work it off your body from the front, until it finally falls down around your ankles. As you move to step out of it, he stops you.

“Ah. Don’t.” Jake uses his own leg to halt the movement of your own. “Leave it there.”

You huff, but place your foot back where it was, leaving your leo pooling on the floor around your feet.

Jake’s hands work their way up for your hips, to your shoulders, before his dull nails scratch down your back just enough to make your muscles tense and cover you in goosebumps. He repeats the action one more time, watching your body shiver under his touch in amusement.

“Beg me.” Jake commands, dipping the tips of his fingers into the waistband of your tights.

“What?” You meet his eyes through the mirror, both of you taking notice of the pink tint your cheeks take on.

“I said, Beg. Me.” Jake repeats himself, but not without placing some firmness behind his tone.

“For what?” You spit the question like it’s drenched in poison, though, you know good and well what he’s asking you to beg for.

In a blink, Jake bends down just slightly and yanks your tights down until they’re sitting just around your knees.

“Aren’t you gonna take them off?” You ask him through a scoff.

“I only take off the clothes of good girls,” Jake smirks slyly from behind you. “And you’re most certainly not one of those. Are you?”

You don’t answer him, mostly because you’re hyper focused on the way the air feels cool against your cunt, the slip of your inner thighs from the arousal soaking them and the fact that Jake is the one that has caused it.

A swift smack to your ass pulls you back to him, though.

“Are you?” Jake asks again. You can see his hand drawn back through the mirror, prepared to deliver another blow.

“No,” you finally answer, not nearly loud enough.

Smack.

“Louder.” Jake demands.

“No, I-I’m not.” Your voice cracks as you raise your volume up, hoping it will suit him.

“That’s better.” Jake attaches his lips itno your shoulder, sinking his teeth into the muscles as his fingers unexpectedly slip through your folds.

“Ah, fuck!” You cry, squirming slightly at the pleasurable pain of his teeth biting just enough to leave a bruise, paired with the coolness of his fingers. You’re ever so slowly losing your own game of defiance.

“Aw, do you not like it rough, sugar plum?” Jake asks, feigning sympathy for you as he lets his fingers tease around your dripping heat.

“I- I told you I can take it,” you remind him, but it’s hardly as believable as earlier.

“Yeah?” Jake pulls his hand away from you and smacks it across your hand again, the wetness coating his fingers making it sting just a little more.

“Jake, come on,” you beg, dying for him to pay your throbbing clit some attention, even though it likely won’t be for long.

“Oh, so now she begs…” Jake scoffs, returning his fingers to your core.

Instead of going where he knows you want them the most, he slowly sinks a finger into you, curling it upwards upon hearing your whiny moan. The force at which his finger curls into, sends you lurching forward, damn near hitting your head against the glass of the mirror.

His free hand reaches up to grip at your jaw again, forcing your head up to look at him.

“How’s that feel? Hm?” He asks, voice low and gravely, like it has to travel over rocks before it reaches your ears.

Adding in a finger, the thrusts of his fingers become deeper and the sweet curl into that spot that has your knees buckling, grow harder and more intentional - hitting the same sweet spot over and over and over again.

“Goddamn, Jake…” you moan breathily, eyes fluttering closed.

“Open your fucking eyes and look at me.” Jake commands, emphasizing his words with a particularly deep thrust of his fingers.

How he’s managing to reach these untouched places inside of you, you’ll likely never know, but you don’t really care. You force your eyes open and meet his reflection. Tendrils of his hair have fallen out of his bun, framing his face so perfectly. His eyes are dark and dancing with lust and more emotions that are too entangled to place.

“You feel like you’re about to cum…” Jake observes, pulling his soaked fingers out and wrapping his arm around your waist to reach your aching and horribly neglected bundle of nerves.

The circles he’s drawing over you are quick and tight, enough to throw you into an orgasm and completely wipe your mind blank in the process. It’s almost too much pleasure.

“Not so mouthy now, are you?” Jake snaps, cracking his hand against your cunt, before returning to the dizzying circles.

You open your mouth to smart off, but the second your lips part, the most feral moan you’ve ever heard come from your own lungs, bursts right out of you.

“You’re so much more pleasant to be around when you’re moaning instead of bitching.” Jake comments, leaning in to bite at your shoulder again.

You don’t have much wriggle room this time, as his grip around your neck keeps your firmly in place as he bites all along your neck and shoulder.

“Jake!” You whimper, so close to sounding more like a sob.

You want to jerk away from his far too skilled fingers, but you don’t want to run from the earth-shattering orgasm that he’s steadily dragging you towards.

“Do not cum yet.” Jake says against your skin, but his fingers don’t stop.

“Jake, i-“

“Nope. Don’t fucking cum yet.” Jake says again in a much harsher tone.

He’s pushing you. Seeing just how much you can take, how long you can keep yourself dangling you over that steep edge before you’re crying and pleading with him to stop, because you just can’t hold it anymore.

And you’re not far from that, as hot tears sting the corners of your eyes and the knot in your belly is aching and screaming for release.

“Fuck, I can’t-“ You choke out, gripping the barre so hard that your knuckles are paper white. Even your knees have started to slightly bend, forcing Jake to bend down with you in order to not lose the contact. “I can’t, Jake! Please, just let me!”

“Fuck no.” Jake snaps, bringing his fingers to an agonizing stop before removing them from you completely. “What makes you think you’ve earned it?”

Jake’s hands abandon you and just barely, you catch sight of him pushing his own tights and underwear down to his thighs, fully revealing himself to you, hard and practically soaked with pre cum.

As much as you want to hate every bit of this, you can’t wait have him buried inside of you. The way you imagine it will feel to have him stretching you out, hitting all the perfect places inside of you, is replacing all coherent thoughts in your brain.

“Fuck,” Jake groans, stroking himself a few times. “Goddamn how did you fucking get me like this?”

Reaching forward with his opposite hand to grip your hip tightly, he lines himself up and pushes in to the hilt, his dark eyes intently watching your face contort in pleasure.

“Yeah? You like this?” Jake asks, his words slightly rushed from his own pleasure as he moves in and out of you a few times. “Can’t believe this is all I needed to do to get you to shut your pretty fucking mouth.”

All you can do is moan. You’re far too gone to come up with a good and bratty response to that. Besides, you coming to not mind the way he sounds degrading you. It’s addicting, just like his fingers and cock.

Your chest heaves with anticipation as he continues his slow thrusts. One of his hands ventures up your spine from your hip, stopping to firmly grip your shoulder for more leverage.

“You think your dancing has imperfections now?” Jake growls into your ear, his black t-shirt grazing your bare back. “Just wait until you come in and try to dance tomorrow.”

Jake pulls nearly all the way out of you before slamming himself right back in without warning, setting the most relentless pace possible.

A choked moan rips its way out of you, the pleasure of Jake’s cock pounding into you, shooting through your whole body in debilitating waves.

“Come on, sugar plum,” Jake taunts through labored breaths. “Mouth off some more. M’sure you have plenty to say now, don’t you?”

“F-Fuck you…” You force the two strangled words out through your throat, through an array of moans a high pitched whines.

Using his bruising hold on your hip and shoulder, he brings you back to meet his thrust, driving himself even deeper with each stroke.

You can feel the pleasure shooting down through your legs, all the way down to the tips of your toes - sore and likely blistered from your pointe shoes. The sensations popping up all over your body, make you feel like you’re choking on air - little hiccups of whines and ragged, loud breaths being all that makes it out of you.

Jake’s sounds of pleasure aren’t lost on you, though. The deep grunts and growls, an occasional higher whimper falling in here and there. But god, his voice… the way he talks to you. That, you’re sure, will be what drives you into the life changing high that’s finally starting to rebuild itself within you.

“Oh, my god, Jake…” You croak, wishing you could hold onto him. Sink your nails into his shoulders and run them down his back, or arms. Anything.

“Are you gonna cry for me when you cum? Huh?” Jake asks tauntingly, raising his voice slightly to ensure you hear him over your constant moans. His hand travels from your shoulder down to your cunt, and he begins swirling his fingers over your clit.

You writhe in his hold, forcing him to wrap his other arm around your waist, the palm of his hand splaying over your chest to hold you against him.

“Nuh uh, this is what you fucking wanted, so take it.” Jake growls lowly into your ear, kissing the side of your neck just below it.

It feels too good. Way too good. You’re just waiting for your body to short circuit, as Jake continues to mercilessly pound into you, expertly toying with your clit as he does so.

“Look at yourself,” Jake scoffs, sliding his hand up from your chest to your jaw. “So fucked out and pathetic. You gonna leave looking like this?” His eyes scan over the little bruises littering your shoulders and neck. “Gonna show everyone that their pretty, sweet, sugar plum is just a little whore?”

Words have completely fled from you, as have the loud moans you were emitting before. You’ve dwindled down to nothing but a constantly open mouth, with hoarse and uneven breaths panting out, makeup running and strands of hair falling out of your bun, as your orgasm slowly pulls you under.

“Ja- Jake!” You sob, a deep ache settling low in your stomach. “I- I’m s- I-…”

“Give it up, pretty. Go on…” Jake encourages, his thrusts just barely faltering as you begin fluttering around him. “F- Fucking. Give it to me.”

The orgasm that takes hold of you, nearly ravages you. It’s head-spinning, body numbing. So all consuming that your vision and hearing go out entirely, for what feels like an eternity. Your lungs burn as your body locks in place, until you’re finally able to suck in a gasping breath and release the most pornographic cry into the room. It echos and bounces around, and Jake is quickly committing it to memory.

Faintly, as Jake delivers a few more paralyzing thrusts, you can hear him cursing under his breath. Groaning as he pulls out quickly, removing his hand from around you to work himself through his own high and spilling his release over your lower back.

His fingers have yet to come to a stop over you, even through his orgasm. You frantically grab for his wrist, whining desperately as overstimulation takes you for a dizzying spin.

Barely having regained his composure, Jake turns you around, pressing his body flush against yours as he sinks his fingers into you and uses his thumb to continue working your throbbing bundle of nerves.

“Jake, please! It’s too much, please!” You beg him, more tears prickling the corners of your eyes.

“You’re a tough girl, right?” Jake mocks, kissing your cheek with a wicked smirk on his lips. “You can take one more.”

“Jacob, please!” You beg him again, unsure of how you’re even holding yourself up anymore.

“Hush.” Jake commands, watching you with dark eyes as you start fall back into another high.

Your head falls back against the glass with a soft thud, eyes screwed tightly shut and mouth hanging agape just like before.

“That’s it, sugar plum,” Jake rasps. “You’ll give me one more because I said so. Good girl.”

Those last two little words do you in. It isn’t quite as intense as the first, but it still does you in, nonetheless. Your legs tremble beneath you, the muscles in your stomach clenching as you come undone for him again.

As you come down, Jake carefully withdraws his hand from you - soaked and glistening with your release.

You watch his movements with hooded eyes, as he brings his fingers up to his mouth and sucks them clean of you.

“Like sugar…” He hums with a shit eating grin. “How fitting.”

Bending down, Jake guides your tights back up, followed by your leo - pulling it up just to your chest.

He then takes a step back from you, pulling his own tights back up over his hips, eyes never leaving your face as you watch him in slight, post-orgasm confusion.

“It’s late,” he speaks up calmly, taking slow steps backwards. “I’ll see you back here tomorrow. Same time.”

You watch him in walk away disbelief, as you attempt to follow after him on weak and shaky legs. By the time you reach him, he’s already flinging his back over his shoulder.

He turns towards you, tossing you a little jar without any warning.

Your hands shoot out to catch it just in time to save it from shattering all over the floor and upon a little examination, you read, ‘Epsom Salt’ written across a little sticky note, taped to the side.

“Might wanna soak in a nice little bath tonight,” he suggests as he heads towards the door.

You watch him pull it open and step out, still completely speechless and rightfully exhausted, your mind spinning in a whirlwind of thoughts about what the hell just happened.

“I need those to be working tomorrow.” Jake adds smugly, quickly pointing at your legs. “Oh, and cover those marks. Can’t go in to dress rehearsal tomorrow night bruised up.”

“W-What…?! I thought dress rehearsal starts the day after tomorrow?” Your sleepy eyes grow impossibly wide.

“Nope.” Jake shakes his head once. “Best be ready, huh, sugar plum?”

With that, he leaves you to be alone with l shock and insanely sore legs, wondering how the fuck you’re going to manage a full day with him and dress rehearsals, now that he’s fucked your body to the point of no return.

@ascendingtostardust @joshsindigostreak @streamsofstardust @builtbybrokenbells @shutupdevvie @gretasmokerising @stardustvanfleet @stardustcatcher @wildbluesorbit @jaketlover @of-infinite-wonders

@tripthelightfatality @vanfleeter @ofburningskies

@sunandthemoontwinflames @juliensbakery

@jakesguitarsolo @gretavanfreaky

@ageofbarbarians @gretavanfleetposts

@gvfpal @theweightofjake @alwaysonthemend

@twistedmelodies @belovedsamuel

@watchingover-hypegirl @jakes-eyebrows

@watchingovergvff @streamingcolors-gvf

@jakekiszkasbuttsweat @writingcold

@starcatcher-jake @sarakay-gvf @groovyvanfleet

@i-choose-the-road @stillstreetjoshua @doodle417 @positivegvfthings @greta-van-fics @greta-van-chaos @gretavanbitches

[cass-danny-weekend]

Cass/Danny Weekend - Fun Fact! Day 3

Now that we have the basics out of the way, let's talk a little bit more about fanon and headcanons. And we'll do this in a little game I like to call:

✨ Where did you see that? ✨

Since today is a Cass day, I wanted to focus on a frequent element you might have seen in fanon, where Cass is a ballerina in her civilian identity as a day job. Of course that does beg the question, where did this headcanon begin?

Well the idea that Cass loves ballet, or aspires to become a ballerina, is based on the 2016 Detective Comics run, where Cass lived hidden in the Gotham Metropolitan Ballet, a dance school and theatre. I want to specifically bring attention to the Detective Comics #950 issue where you might have seen the panels of Cass dancing floating around on Tumblr or elsewhere in the fandom. While living at the theatre, Cass would often watch the students and copy their practices.

But wait, there's more! This meta by fantastic-nonsense also shows comic panels of Cass and her relationship with dance, including the comic issue I mentioned earlier. I recommend this blog in general for the metas and analysis posts; fantastic-nonsense has some amazing pieces about Bruce and his morals that I personally still love to this day.

So, will we ever see Cass as a ballerina in main continuity? Who knows. But we did have Ballerina Cass in WFA?

"WFA" stands for the Webtoon called "Batman: Wayne Family Adventures". It is a Elseworld comic, that does take a lot of nuggets from canon itself so keep an eye on those tidbits! Originally a slice of life comic, it currently boasts 163 episodes in its third season, with its current season focused more on a season-long plotline rather than its previous short, episodic format.

You can see Cass perform in episodes 15 and 16 of the first season!

We hope you enjoy~

- Mod Halfa

[geekgirles]

So we're just going to sleep on the fact that Star canonically does ballet? Because I always see people gush about how she completed a semester's worth of Danny's Math homework, but I've never seen anyone talk about this.

[onyxsboxes]

Here all the songs titles from the LCAPT SAS Rogue Heroes playlist

1. If You Want Blood (You Got It) by AC/DC 2. Highway To Hell by AC/DC 3. Wheels of Steel by Saxon 4. Hell On Wheels by Cinderella 5. You Got Another Thing Comin by Judas Priest 6. Night Witch by Wolf People 7. Each To Each by the Gutter Twins 8. O Death by Kate Mann 9. I’m an Outlaw by Kurt Vile

10. H. by Tool 11. Red Desert by 5 Seconds of Summer 12. Out Of Our Heads by Dropkick Murphys 13. Liquid Lunch by Caro Emerald 14. Unknown Soldier by Breaking Benjamin 15. The Ghost of You by My Chemical Romance 16. Alone Again Or by The Damned 17. Shut Up and Drive by Rihanna 18. Ruin by The Amazing Devil 19. Tongues & Teeth by The Crane Wives

20. Brothers in Arms by Joan Baez 21. Somebody’s Gonna Get Their Head Kicked In Tonight by The Rezillos 22. Nobody’s Hero by Stiff Little Fingers 23. Let Me Drown by Orville Peck 24. Barracuda by Heart 25. What difference does it make? by the smiths 26. Tommy gun by the clash 27. One way or another by blondie 28. Something against you by the pixies 29. Very ape by nirvana

30. Ballroom blitz by sweet 31. Gun by My Chemical Romance 32. Ambulance by My Chemical Romance 33. Boy division by My Chemical Romance 34. Bright Lies by Giant Rooks 35. I Don’t Want to be Angry by Bears in Trees 36. Permanence by Bears in Trees 37. Ramblings of a Lunatic by Bears in Trees 38. The Boys are Back by Dropkick Murphys 39. Jumper by Third Eye Blind

40. Drunken Lullabies by Flogging Molly 41. Otherside by Red Hot Chili Peppers 42. Tubthumping by Chumbawamba 43. Power over me by Dermot Kennedy 44. Starburster by Fontaines D.C. 45. Renegades by X Ambassadors 46. Play God by Sam Fender 47. Iron Sky by Paolo Nutini 48. Baba O'Riley by The Who 49. Sympathy For The Devil by The Rolling Stones

50. Desert Rose by Sting (with Cheb Mami) 51. Short Change Hero by The Heavy 52. Through The Barricades by Spandau Ballet 53. Mad Dogs and Englishmen by Noël Coward 54. Favorite by Fontaines D.C. 55. Heroes by David Bowie 56. Where is my mind by Pixies 57. Wrecking ball by Mother mother 58. Balaclava by Arctic monkeys 59. Kiss With A Fist by Florence and The Machines

60. 9 to 5 by Dolly Parton 61. Chelsea Dagger by The Fratellis 62. Movie Loves A Screen by April Smith and The Great Picture Show 63. Stretched Out On Your Grave by Kate Rusby 64. Carry You Home by Alex Warren 65. No Roots by Alice Merton 66. SNAP - High and Fast by Rosa Linn 67. Rescue by Lauren Daigle 68. Please Don’t Say You Love Me by Gabrielle Aplin 69. Going to Hell by The Pretty Reckless

70. Wait for me (reprise) by Hadestown 71. Behind blue eyes by The Who 72. Bullet with butterfly wings by Smashing Pumpkins 73. Falling by Florence and The Machines 74. All Ways by Elliot Park 75. I Wanna Be Your Dog by The Stooges 76. Roll Northumbria by The Dreadnoughts 77. Mountains of Morne by Chris Barber 78. Passe ton chemin, fais ta vie by La Gale 79. So Far From Your Weapon by The Dead Weather

80. Slattery’s Mounted Fut by Percy French 81. Danny Boy by Celtic Woman 82. The Rocky Road to Dublin by The High Kings 83. The Partisan by Leonard Cohen 84. Kickstart my heart by Mötley Crüe 85. Rebel Heart by Djerv 86. If it's True by Hadestown 87. Goodbye John Smith by Barns Courtney 88. Master Crowley’s by Lankum 89. I Am Stretched on Your Grave by Sinead O'Connor

90. Don'ts by David Shrigley 91. Je Chante Pour Passer Le Temps by Leo Ferre 92. Mavericks by Johnossi 93. Bet on Beauty by Kingfishr 94. Blood Hands by Royal Blood 95. Me And the Dog by Sam Fender 96. Romance Dawn by Radkey 97. Sabotage by Beastie Boys 98. Whiskey in the jar by The Dubliners 99. Ocean by Seafret

100. Wasteland baby by Hozier 101. Hidden in the sand by Tally Hall 102. Another one bites the dust by Queen 103. Dog Years by Halsey 104. Count Your Blessings by Mattiel 105. Can’t Fight This Feeling by REO Speedwagon 106. You Are a Runner and I Am My Fathers Son by Wolf Parade 107. In The Night by Des Rocs 107,5. Man on a Mission by Bobby Joyner 108. A night in Tunisia by Ella Fitzgerald 109. My buddy by Chet Baker

110. The overgate by Sam Shackleton 111. Jimmy, Renda Se by Tom Zé 112. loml by Taylor Swift 113. Rasputin by Boney M. 114. Zombie by The Cranberries 115. Thistle and weeds by Mumford and sons 116. Trouble by Valerie Broussard 117. Supercut by Lorde 118. Epiphany by Taylor Swift 119. Two men in love by The Irrepressibles

120. We’re Not Gonna Take It by Twisted Sister 121. Don’t Stop Me Now by Queen 122. I Was Made For Lovin' You by YUNGBLUD 123. Rebel at Heart by Ashton Irwin 124. Lion by Saint Mesa 125. Nesanica by Tose Proeski 126. Sta Bih Ja by Joker Out 127. Pearl by Mitski 128. Koud Edhaz Emin by Tinariwen 129. The Smile & The Fury by Gilmore & Roberts

130. The Great War by Taylor Swift 131. Soldier, Poet, King by the Oh Hellos 132. Bed of Roses by Bon Jovi 133. Sound the Bugle by Bryan Adams 134. Nothings gonna stop us now by Starship 135. Someone I could die for by Lewis Capaldi 136. Achilles Come Down by Gang of Youths 137. Warsaw by Joy Division 138. Roadless by Frightened Rabbit 139. London Calling by The Clash

140. Staring at the rude boys by The Ruts 141. Dad's Army by The TV Theme Players 142. Wardance by Killing Joke 143. Sing sing sing by Benny Goodman 144. Night Boat To Cairo by Madness 145. Runnin' Wild by Airbourne 146. She Sells Sanctuary by The Cult 147. The Old Therebefore by Rachel Zegler 148. The Hanging Tree by James Newton Howard, Jennifer Lawrence 149. Unsinkable by Sail North

150. In the Stars by Benson Boone 151. Leaves from the Vine by Annapantsu 152. Futile Devices by Sufjan Stevens 153. Mystery of Love by Sufjan Stevens 154. Wish I Could Have Loved You by Tootawl 155. Free bird by Lynyrd Skynyrd 156. Work Song by Hozier 157. I, Carrion (Icarian) by Hozier 158. It Will Come Back by Hozier 159. Candy by The Blasting Company

160. Never Let Me Down Again by Jessica Mazin 161. The Line by Arcana, Twenty One Pilots 162. Killing Strangers by Marilyn Manson 163. Romance by Fontaines D.C. 164. Talk by Hozier 165. Dinner & diatribes by Hozier 166. Your needs, my needs by Noah Kahan 167. Speak with the dead by Foxing 168. Karma Police by Radiohead 169. Jerk It Out by Caesars

170. Little Lion Man by Mumford and sons 171. Can’t Stop by Red Hot Chili Peppers 172. Paranoid by Black Sabbath

[msrpusher]

Chapter 5: Ignimbrite

Comments are a forehead kiss guys! A ten second long forehead kiss.

The quiet hum of the hotel room did little to soothe Scully’s restless mind as the morning light, pale and unforgiving, seeped through the curtains. Her hand automatically reached for the toothbrush, but her thoughts were already miles away, replaying the chaotic ballet of the previous night. The memory of Mulder’s body, heavy and warm over hers, still hummed in her veins, a stark contrast to the sterile gleam of the bathroom mirror. His breath on her cheek, the unexpected weight of him, the raw awareness that had flared between them, it all pressed in on her, leaving her breathless even now.

Then there was Danny Potts. His words, delivered with such a gentle certainty, echoed in her head: "That man is in love with you. I ought to know, I’ve been in love with you since I was twelve." The declaration had stunned her, not just for its content, but for its effortless insight into something she had rigorously, stubbornly, refused to acknowledge.

No. It’s not going to happen. It’s never going to happen, she told herself, her reflection staring back, a mask of fierce denial. She gripped her hair, flipping it aggressively, the sudden movement a physical manifestation of her emotional turmoil. She couldn’t take this limbo anymore, this agonizing space between them where everything was felt but nothing was spoken. Yes, she loved him. A truth so profound, so woven into the fabric of her being, it felt like she had always, always had this connection with him. He was the other half of her, the perfect complement to her logic, the wild counterpart to her reason.

The love of her life.

But nothing, absolutely nothing, was straightforward with them. Her dominant left hemisphere, the part of her brain that craved order and predictability, screamed for logic and reason. They would never get along. They already spent way too much time together, their lives intertwined in every conceivable way. If they dared to cross that line, to delve into something more, they would bicker. They would argue. They would eventually, inevitably, end up hating each other. The thought was a cold, hard stone in her stomach, heavy enough to outweigh the burgeoning hope in her heart.

A soft, insistent knock on the adjoining room door jolted her from her turbulent thoughts. She walked over, pulling it open. Mulder stood there, dressed in a crisp gray Armani suit, looking impossibly sharp, better than any human being had a right to at this ungodly hour.

“Ready to go?” he asked, his voice low, a velvet murmur that sent an unexpected shiver down her spine. His eyes, deep and searching, held hers for a moment too long, a silent question passing between them. Scully sighed, a sound caught between resignation and something akin to quiet acceptance. She offered him a half smile, a silent admission of defeat, and nodded.

__________________________________

The hum of the rental car was the only sound breaking the silence between them. Mulder gripped the steering wheel, his gaze fixed on the road, but his mind was entirely on the woman beside him. One of his favorite things on earth was making Scully laugh; even a mere giggle was a massive win. To hear the genuine, unburdened sound of her laughter was, for him, as a burst of celestial fire, piercing the gloom of his soul, a brief, intoxicating draught of nectar from the gods themselves. Honestly, he thought to himself if this is what being in love does to a person, I think I'll stick to global conspiracies. Much less dramatic.

So he launched into niche questions, delving into the philosophical absurdities he knew sometimes caught her off guard. “Scully,” he began, “if a tree falls in the forest and an alien is there to observe it, but the alien’s perception is based on vibrational frequencies rather than sound waves, does the tree still make a ‘thud’?”

Nada. Not even a flicker of amusement.

He switched to jokes, then puns, each one falling flat in the charged silence. Nothing was working. Her profile remained impassive, her gaze fixed on the passing scenery. He sighed, deflating slightly. There was only one way to break this impenetrable silence.

“Scully,” he said, his voice softer than he intended. “I’m sorry. About last night.”

That did it. Her head whipped around so fast her hair momentarily obscured her face, her eyes wide with surprise, a sudden vulnerability in their depths. “Apologize for what, Mulder?”

He scrambled, his mind racing. This was a high stakes question. If he got it wrong, she’d freeze him out, perhaps for weeks. Was there more than one thing he should be apologizing for? He did a quick, frantic inventory of his misdeeds.

“I’m sorry for my obnoxious behavior to Puppy,” he blurted out, then quickly corrected, “I mean, Potts.”

Scully shook her head, a slow, deliberate movement that sent her hair swaying across her face like a curtain. A small, almost imperceptible smile touched her lips, gone before he could be sure it was real. She turned her attention to the hospital entrance now visible in the distance.

“Alright, Mulder. About these four incidents, and Potts’s neurological findings…” she began, her voice all business, pulling him back to the familiar ground of the case.

It worked! A wave of relief washed over him, so potent he nearly sagged.

When Mulder cut the engine, she turned to him, her hand reaching out to grasp his. Her touch was firm, serious, yet a spark of warmth ignited where their skin met. “Potts…” she started, her gaze intense, a silent warning in her eyes.

Mulder quickly cut her off, a reassuring smile on his face, determined to smooth things over. “Don’t worry. I’ll be on my best behavior.” He squeezed her hand, a silent promise.

Scully squeezed his hand in return, her half smile deepening into something more genuine, a hint of the playful teasing he cherished. “Yeah,” she said, her eyes twinkling as she held his gaze, a quiet challenge in their depths, “but you need to be on my best behavior.”

He grinned, a genuine, easy smile that reached his eyes, feeling a lightness he hadn’t realized he’d lost. “Deal,” he confirmed, squeezing her hand in return, the fleeting intimacy a secret language between them.

__________________________________

They stepped off the elevator into the hushed quiet of Dr. Potts’s office suite, the early morning light filtering softly through the blinds. Their footsteps echoed faintly on the polished floors as they searched for him. As they rounded the corner into the main consultation area, Scully stopped.

Her eyes widened, taking in the sight before them: a large, gleaming table laden with an extravagant spread of breakfast delights. There were baskets overflowing with every imaginable bakery item—flaky croissants, glistening danishes, muffins studded with berries. Platters held perfectly sliced fruit, alongside bowls of yogurt and granola. A gleaming coffee urn steamed invitingly next to an array of exotic smoothie options, vibrant colors promising a burst of flavor.

Potts emerged from an inner office, a professional smile already in place, but it brightened considerably when he saw Scully. He gestured grandly to the table, his eyes twinkling. “Dana! Agent Mulder.” He moved towards them, a confident ease in his stride.

Scully, still staring at the culinary abundance, raised an eyebrow. “Dr. Potts,” she began, a hint of amusement in her voice. “Are you expecting guests? Royalty?”

Potts chuckled, a warm, resonant sound. He paused beside the table, sweeping an arm over the feast, his gaze fixed solely on Scully. “In a manner of speaking, it’s for you, Dana,” he said, his voice dropping slightly, intimate and earnest. “I thought you might be hungry. And I want to treat you right, because I truly hope you’ll come again.”

Both Mulder and Scully were taken aback, each for their own complicated reasons. Scully felt a strange, almost overwhelming sensation. It had been a long, solitary time since anyone had made such a grand, openly romantic gesture for her. A soft, unexpected warmth bloomed in her chest, quickly followed by a familiar flicker of unease.

Mulder, on the other hand, was hit hard with a visceral pang of jealousy so sharp it stole his breath. He saw the genuine care in Potts’s eyes, the unmasked adoration, and it ignited a fierce, protective instinct he usually kept buried deep. But he had promised Scully he would be on his best behavior—or rather, her best behavior. He drew a deep breath, forcing a placid expression onto his face.

He stepped forward, his voice remarkably even, a thin veneer over simmering frustration. “Well, Dr. Potts, this is… quite the spread. Agent Scully and I were just discussing the metabolic benefits of complex carbohydrates and sustained glucose release for optimal cognitive function. This array certainly provides ample caloric density and a diverse macronutrient profile, essential for maintaining peak investigative stamina.” He even managed a polite nod toward a towering stack of pancakes, a masterclass in forced civility.

Now it was Potts’s turn to be taken aback. He blinked, clearly thrown by Mulder’s sudden, overly formal, and surprisingly scientific assessment of his breakfast offering. The usual Mulder would have scoffed, perhaps made a crack. But Potts was sharp; he saw right through the forced decorum, the thinly veiled possessiveness in Mulder's unusual politeness. A slow, knowing smile spread across Potts’s face. Oh, this was going to be fun. He was going to have a lot of fun testing Mulder today, breaking him today.

Scully, perhaps to diffuse the sudden, heavy silence, reached out and plucked a glistening chocolate danish from a basket. She took a large bite, the pastry flaking deliciously around her lips. Both men were openly staring at her now, one with a subtle admiration that bordered on reverence, the other with a silent, desperate plea in his eyes that she recognized all too well. Scully swallowed quickly, feeling the heat rise in her cheeks, acutely aware of the unresolved tension.

She cleared her throat, pulling herself back to the reason they were there. “Right,” she said, wiping a crumb from her lip. “Dr. Potts, you mentioned more data on the neurological symptoms. Where should we begin?”

__________________________________

Five hours later, Mulder was dying a slow, agonizing death by a thousand paper cuts of charm. The relentless hum of the hospital room, coupled with Potts’s unwavering focus on Scully, had become a special kind of torture. It had been like this all day: Potts constantly vying for Scully’s attention, the unending stream of flattery, the way he leaned in, nodding so attentively at everything she said, as if her every utterance was a revelation etched in stone. Mulder had finally had it. He was ready to pull out a white flag and wave it.

He pushed back from the table, not even bothering to interrupt their ongoing, intense discussion of patient vitals. He simply tuned them out completely, the droning rhythm of Potts’s voice and Scully’s methodical questions fading into a meaningless buzz. He reached for the stack of patient files, ignoring the conversation that continued to flow over his head. He skimmed, then read, then re read, looking for anything, any pattern, any anomaly that might pull him from this purgatory. His eyes darted across dates, times, fragmented symptoms, geographic coordinates.

Then, a flicker. Not a pattern, not yet. More of a resonance, a faint echo of something he’d encountered before, buried deep in the archives of his mind. A subtle correlation between the missing time incidents and localized, low frequency atmospheric disturbances, readings that would typically be dismissed as background noise. It was a long shot, a wild theory, but it sparked a familiar thrill, a sense of purpose that cut through his earlier frustration.

“Scully,” Mulder interrupted, his voice sharp, cutting through Potts’s detailed medical explanation of a patient's aphasia. He pushed a file across the table. “These atmospheric readings, correlated with the disappearance times. They’re too consistent to be coincidental. What if the ‘shimmer’ isn’t just some optical anomaly, but a localized temporal distortion, possibly a byproduct of an unknown energy source?”

Potts scoffed, a dismissive sound, his face already contorted in objection. “Agent Mulder, that’s highly speculative and entirely without scientific precedent here. We’re dealing with neurological trauma, not science fiction.”

Scully turned to Mulder, then back to Potts, her expression one of quiet determination. “Perhaps, Dr. Potts, but on the X Files, we have found that many cases go beyond what can be conventionally imagined. That is no reason to dismiss the extraordinary.” She paused, her eyes meeting Mulder’s, a silent acknowledgment passing between them. A shared history, a shared understanding etched in their very bones. “In fact,” she continued, her voice steady, “on our very first case together, Mulder and I experienced a loss of time. Nine minutes.” In her mind, she replayed that bewildering moment, how in the terrifying void of lost time, they had paradoxically found each other, truly found each other.

Mulder and Potts both looked at her, stunned, for wildly different reasons. Potts’s jaw hung slightly ajar, his disbelief evident. He saw her as utterly irrational, bordering on delusion, his scientific mind unable to reconcile her words. Mulder, however, was struck by a different kind of shock. He was stunned, not by the revelation itself, but by her willingness to admit it, here, now, to Potts, and most importantly, to herself. It was a concession, a raw, undeniable truth she rarely spoke aloud. Potts recovered, a harsh scoff escaping him in a mix of defense and frustration. “Agent Scully, with all due respect, that sounds like pure conjecture! We have patients with real, measurable symptoms, not… nine minutes of lost time!”

Mulder started to interject, a sharp retort forming on his tongue, but he knew Scully well enough to let her handle this on her own. He watched, a quiet pride swelling in his chest, as she stood her ground.

Scully’s gaze was firm, unwavering as she looked at Potts. “Dr. Potts, Agent Mulder and I are going now. We need to follow up on Mulder’s lead.” She stood, moving with a decisive grace that brooked no argument, and walked towards the office door.

Mulder leaned in towards Potts, a sly, fox like smile playing on his lips. He lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper, his eyes gleaming with a victory that had two distinct meanings. “That’s my girl.”

Scully turned just outside the doorway, her voice clear, pulling Mulder back into their orbit, back to where he belonged. “Are you coming?”

Mulder straightened, his smile widening as he met Scully’s gaze, then turned proudly back to Potts, a quiet challenge in his tone that left no room for doubt. “I am right behind you.” And he was, always, because she always had his back too.

[jainydoe]

rook questionnaire

tagged by the wonderful, magnificent, the amazing @emmg truth be told I also don't care about my rook but hopefully showing mine will make you show me yours

this is claudia

1: Where in the Thedas is your Rook from? nevarra!

2: What is your character's alignment? uhhhh is true neutral an answer? I think she's the type to follow rules until they don't suit her

3: Race and subclass? rogue elf

4: If your Rook was a companion, where would they be found? excellent question, maybe either at like a museum in Orlais that they're casing or a casino? very danny ocean

5: What emotion did they usually pick? mm I think when chatting with companions they'll make jokes, but with strangers just the neutral polite option - very rarely gruff

6: What companion are you platonically close with? neve and bellara, mainly because my first rook was close to davrin and lucanis

7: Romantically close with? emmrich obviously cmon

8: Who are they suspicious of? solas and that dude who introduced harding to that lady? you follow?

9: Does your Rook get along with their chosen Faction? oh yeah, she's a nevarran darling, just too slippery sometimes

10: Are they proficient in playing any instruments? never considered it. maybe piano?

11: Weapon of choice? ooh I think she's more comfortable as a ranger but happy to go melee when it comes to that

12: What is their orientation? mm I would say straight but comfortable messing around with whoever joins in

13: What are their thoughts on killing? Is it a necessary evil or do they enjoy it? ooh. I think my first rook enjoyed it but claudia doesn't really care

14: What hobbies does your Rook have? probably going to ballets, painting, playing cards, I imagine dancing is what made her such a talented rogue

15: What NPCs do they like? Which one's do they dislike? ooh I think she probably has the same reservations about Taash originally that emmrich has but they find common ground. I think she's also like cordial with antoine and evka but is very happy to leave the wetlands

16: Do they have a favorite creature in the Thedas? the fat crocodile things in the wetlands - only good thing there

17: Do they enjoy life as an adventurer? I think it suits her devil-may-care attitude but she's a creature who enjoys her comforts. if she has a lighthouse to return to she's fine

18: What would your Rook be doing if they weren't recruited by Varric? probably hustling idiots with the help of spirits or shacked up with some artist

19: How do you think they'll meet their end? woof, maybe an old enemy come to pay their debts? poisoned tea type shit? but also maybe she'll just fall off a cliff who knows

20: Would they side with Solas or fight him? don't know yet!

21: What is your Rook's favorite ability? ooh probably the charged up shield break, or that spin move flurry of knives

22: What languages is your character fluent in? ok yeah here we go, definitely antivan, common of course, elvish, orlesian, and I think she studied tevene as like an extra curricular in youth

23: What do they do after an absolute crisis? smoke and take a bubble bath

24: Does your character believe in the afterlife? I think she's agnostic but wants to believe, giving her nevarran upbringing

25: What specialization best represents your Rook? not sure how to answer this?

26: What animal best represents your Rook? ooh. maybe like a persian street cat. something you know once belonged somewhere but now is a creature of the night to be feared

27: What was their life like before the events of Veilguard? I think she was a high-level thief

28: Is your character the de facto leader of the party? Or do they consider someone else to be the leader? I think she's the "leader" but doesn't care if someone feels passionately about specific aspects. that being said, she's never worked in a team before but knows jobs can go awry when there's a fucked chain of command so she always makes sure plans are clear, even if they're not plans she came up with

29: If you could choose a different faction for your Rook, which one would they have joined and why? probably the crows. just suits her skillset

30: What's your favorite thing about your Rook? she's ultimately kind. I find her amiable and lovely

this was fun I didn't know all this random stuff about my rook thanks for tagging me emm. I actually do wanna know about yours but will also tag @farore05 @caffeinatedmunchkin and @eavangeek because you're all writers I really love the work of and would love to get to know better!!!

[divinekangaroo]

Was contemplating the whole ‘Tommy has no friends except Alfie’ thing/thought (it’s my own internal running joke too) but it can't really be true?

Tommy appears to have this huge social network, groups of people he’s still in touch with from the war, including internationally, and including in the officer class; these supposed very reliable contacts in Ireland which I can only assume ties back to the family connections to Ireland and maybe some visit across in his past; the huge respect (and edge of fear) network in Small Heath extending broader into Birmingham; seemingly a very *useful* social-climbing networking he's developed to be able to get the mayor and various politicians to the Grace Shelby charity opening in S3, a society networking which he maintains and builds upon all the way through to Tommy being able to invite actual upper crust society to a ballet at his house (and people attend!)

I mean, there's a level of reserve (rank/war respect) or transactional basis (professional tit for tat society networks), but he also had more friend style connections with say Barney, Freddie (even if it’s soured by the time we see it) and Danny (again, changed by Danny’s own PTSD into that Sergeant-Major thing, but lots of hints it wasn't always like that).

I’ve imagined Tommy puts a significant effort into his social (and society) networking as he does into his business - staying in touch, staying useful, even to the point of using Arthur (or let's imagine his secretaries, his ministerial aides, Polly; picking the right 'hand' who can maintain that relationship for him) to ensure letters and communications keep happening so people remain aware of him, and he stays alive in people’s minds at any possible level of class. He'd have to be maintaining that network like a garden.

The party for Lizzie also didn’t seem like a first time thing for them so I also imagine he hosts quite a lot of social affairs to remain current and connected, which becomes vitally imperative in a different way as a politician compared to a businessman.

But I think that default inner joke, Tommy has no friends and is isolated, is sometimes the claustrophobia of the actual seasons/scenes we see, which are so zoomed into him, into the family, into the worst, that I sometimes double think myself. Just...there’s no way he’s as successful as he is without pouring buckets of effort into society. Admittedly, maybe hardly any of these networking connections are deep connections in the odd way Alfie became one, or Ben Younger could have been one, but Tommy would be talking and meeting and greeting and hosting and writing letters allllllll the time

[best-movie-ever-tournament]

Grease:

"Grease is the Word! It's got a groove, it's got a meaning. Grease is the time, is the place, is the motion. Grease is the way we are feeling." Olivia Newton John, John Travolta, Stockard Channing and all the other cast members are the only people I can really see as these characters (even if they are too old for high school). I knew all these words to the songs by the time I was 10. It's also so saturated in the late 50s not just by styles but the names and references are behind every corner. It's called Rydell High! The only heartbreaking thing here is that Elvis was not able to play the Guardian Angel for Frenchie... And before anyone says anything, Sandy might have changed for Danny, but he did go jock for her right back!

Oklahoma:

It's got a lot, cowboys and farmers and community and love triangles (positive) and love triangles (negative) a ballet dream sequence a wedding and a fire! Intentionally or not it also does not hide the sexism of the west and the entitlement some men feel towards dates... It very much is a product of it's time in story telling, but there are more modern and inclusive stage productions, they just don't have Gordon McRea or Shirley Jones or anyone else. Ado Annie and Curly are fantastic as are Laurie and Aunt Eller too! And don't forget about the Pedaler Man! Love all the songs, from "Oh what a beautiful Morning" to "Can't Say No" to "The Farmer and the Cowman" and the others too. I was so sad that my school pick this the year after I left. It is also why Oklahoma is the first state I learned how to spell. I do not live anywhere near Oklahoma.

[softpine]

i definitely think i'll be posting more random frozen pines stuff on ao3!! i have a ton of unfinished little things i don't know what to do with, i guess i should start throwing them on there for funsies. i'm not sure if i'll ever write more for the until dawn au because i'm pretty satisfied with where i left it, but i will 100000% be posting some random things from my zombie apocalypse au (which will hopefully scratch the same survival story itch) 💖

also it's really funny to call it fanfic sjfkjsd it does feel like i'm writing fanfic for my own story sometimes, like wait hold on are we allowed to see inside elaine's brain like this

anon hate was sooo par for the course back then, it's gotten way better in the past few years but i think everyone got it back in the day. i tried not to let it get to me, but when it was hitting at something really personal to me, it was harder to ignore. but it's all good!! i'm still here!! i've learned to never change a character's personality/story arc to make other people happy! thank you so much for the kind words 💖

stevie and jada have to work weekends now so they don't do much other than that :/ and elaine would've had to the do the same, except she got injured right before starting her new job. asa always spends the weekend recharging in the woods after a long week of school. casper is blackout drunk from 6 pm on thursdays to 8 am mondays. coco has to work :/ beth has to work (part time ballet instructor) :/ um caroline uses weekends to sort her life out lmao that's when she finally does all the laundry and dishes that piled up all week because everyone is so busy right now. danny is on tour so his weekends are just as unpredictable as his weekdays. and mikaela has to work :/ THIS ECONOMY SUCKS MAN fjksjds

THANK YOUUUUU 💖💖💖 i can't think about the passage of time or i'll freak out but this is really sweet and i appreciate you still checking in, thank you thank you 💗

I LOOOOVE AMANDA !! my girl mandy 💖💖💖 i've actually seen a lot of the saw movies in bits and pieces at friends parties i just hadn't sat down and watched all of them myself. but yeah i already love her!! and i will soon (naturally i got distracted when i said i was going to watch saw 3 fjksjds but eventually)

oh noo i hate when this stuff happens 😭 without the instructions, i would have no idea how to upload it for you or even where to find the files on my computer lol. i'm sorry :(( but i googled pskx importer and some newer ones came up, maybe you could give those a shot? this one in particular looks promising!

@alltimefail thank you for thinking of me 🥺💖💖

@acuar-io ahhh the same goes to you!! 💖💞

[longliverockback]

Chicago Live 1971 2024 Rhino ————————————————— Tracks LP One: 01. Tune up and Band Introduction 02. Dialogue 03. Lonelynes is Just a Word 04. Poem 58 05. A Hit by Varèse 06. Lowdown 07. Goodbye 08. Beginnings 09. Ballet for a Girl in Buchannon   •Make Me Smile   •So Much to Say, So Much to Give   •Anxiety’s Moment   •West Virginia Fantasies   •Colour My World •To Be Free •Now More than Ever

Tracks LP Two: 01. Fancy Colors 02. It Better End Soon •1st Movement •2nd Movement •3rd Movement •4th Movement •5th Movement 03. Saturday in the Park 04. Mother 05. In the Country

Tracks LP Three: 01. A Song for Richard and His Friends 02. Does Anybody Really Know What Time It Is? [free form intro] 03. Does Anybody Really Know What Time It Is? 04. I’m a Man 05. Free 06. 25 or 6 to 4 10. Does Anybody Really Know What Time It Is? 05. South California Purples 06. Questions 67 and 68 —————————————————

Peter Cetera

Terry Kath

Robert Lamm

Lee Loughnane

James Pankow

Walter Parazaider

Danny Seraphine

* Long Live Rock Archive