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the-community-mascara · 5 years

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Shit Theatre Kids Say!

Hello, here are some of the random shit I've seen/heard/said/done at rehearsal or backstage during shows. This is by no means all of them. Just some of them, about my first year of doing theatre's worth, which was two years ago.

~"You are predictably dickish"

~"Wait I thought sausage was from cows!!"

~"Singing? In a MUSICAL? Never"

~"Just for your information I have a very small penis"

~ A girl to our choreographer-"Where is your black shirt, sister?"

Our male and very gay choreographer-"Laying on my bed right next to your boyfriend"

~"Ow I just hit myself in the head with a noose!"

~"Gets on stage face totally brown but body looking whiter than Uncle Sam on a cracker"

"What?" *hysterical laughter*

"That's my thing now, like I am whiter than Uncle Sam on a cracker"

~(To the tune of What I've been looking for from high school musical) "This feeling's like no other. I really want sleep! I've never had somewhere I really want to be, LIKE MY BED!"

~"Who's Betsy Ross's husband?"

"Jesus"

~"if you're fat, what am i? A beluga whale?"

~"I can't even! I can only odd!"

"What the fuck"

~"It's a beautiful day you guys!"

"It's a beautiful day for a murder"

"True"

~"You're a chill dick?"

~"My favorite human is probably Mickey Mouse"

~"...Beating her husband?!"

"I thought she was a lesbian!"

~"I need some MILK"

~"You have all that business to mind and you're still in mine?!"

~ *at Larosa's for a cast party* *one guy puts a very tiny dinosaur in the parmesan cheese shaker*

~ "wow you guys its brighter than all of our futures in here!" (We had just gotten into school on a Saturday and every light was off)

~"Unlock the door before I use my epic Vagina muscles" (We were locked out of the dressing rooms on a Saturday show)

~ "I'm so hungry can (our director) get here soon?! It's half an hour past when we were supposed to be here! I'm so hungry - you know what, fuck it. I'm eating this dandelion." *she then eats the dandelion and not five minutes later our director pulls up* "THERE IS A GOD"

~ "I wanna fuck the moon"

~ "Keegan you are literally an abortion fail. Shut the fuck up."

~"Almost all the guys here are adorable, but like, no hetero"

~"Why did you get me started on babies? I fucking hate babies"

~"That curtain just wiped me clean bro! It went straight up my backside!"

~"Old people blood is different it's dusty"

~"That's not blood! It's a thong!"

~"Eggrolls"

~ one of our warmups is that one episode of Spongebob (First you do this... Spin around... STOP!) and the first show our senior who leads us in starts it and another senior just "I FUCKING HATE SPONGEBOB"

"GET OUT LYDIA NO ONE LOVES YOU" was everyone's response.

~ our cast is going through warmups and our last one is putting our hands in "what team? Wildcats!" And well this happened

"WHAT TEAM???"

"WILDCA-"

"guys the audience can hear you!!!"

*very hushed voices* "what team?"

"wildcats!"

~(one of the dresses in the dressing rooms looks like it belongs in the 17/1800's probs cuz it does but one girl put it one bc she didn't have one) *spins around* "Betsy Ross who?"

~ I had to get chased through multiple scenes and everytime I got off stage, heart racing, I'd lean over to the nearest person and whisper- "I do more running on this stage than I ever do in gym class"

~ one time when I was running off stage I ran straight into this one kid who was technically in eighth grade but still part of our cast bc we needed guys.

~ the guy who chased me always fucked around with different runs

~ "my blood is basically Wendy's"

~ between shows on Saturday me and a few friends went to Wendy's... Then a few more people showed up... Then it was an impromptu cast party. No one said a name for our orders so the lady just put "Drama"

~ literally everybody but our Larkin running lines for her songs. And Larkin wanted to murder them all.

~ "I'm sorry you guys, but the air con broke in the backstage hallway and the auditorium. So we have box fans. If you guys wanna risk it, go get the haunted fan from the band room."

~ while at Wendy's the ice machine started randomly pouring ice and we all just looked at each other. "Sorry guys, the ghost followed us." Was uttered to the workers

~ "literally the only reason I'm still alive is because I really wanna do a show about lesbians in the 1930's but I cant do it next year if I'm dead."

~ "what's up there anyway?" (Asked about the loft where students are forbidden to go)

"Oh that's the suicide ladder."

"Why??"

"Our director fell off of it a few years back and nearly died. We aren't allowed up there."

~ "I hate to say it you guys but we have to use the pillows from the sex couch"

"why do you guys call it the sex couch?"

"Long story short, it glows under a blacklight and that means either blood or semen and let's face it, this is high school."

- before everyone needs to start getting ready we have a lip sync battle through the sound system.

~ "you guys I just realized that our A.P. Gov. Final and Opening night are the same day. I'm gonna die."

~ "CAN I KEEP THE GOBLET OF FAILURE?!" (In reference to a goblet our lead threw on opening night that then shattered)

"If you want to"

~ the entire cast had to fall down during one of the dances at the end. This lead to many "paint me like one of your French girls" Scenes. So many, that the line got banned.

~ an in depth conversation during intermission about three porn videos one of the leads has seen. 1) instead of moaning normal things, the girl moans "oh my goodness" Super fast, he didn't finish it he was laughing so hard. 2) it's in an art studio, and the guy is tickling the girl with a paint brush, then shoves it in - not her vagina, but her urethra. He didn't finish that one. 3) the guy spit, directly into the girls asshole. He finished that one.

We were laughing so hard, that we nearly missed it when the overture started.

~ "it is so hot my sweat is sweating"

~ "are you dab fanning me?"

~ "WHO MOVED MY SHARP THINGY?"

~ "get me my letter!"

~ "bro"

~ *everyone mouthing the lines the people on stage are saying*

~ *over exaggerated lip syncing to songs happening in front of a curtain as we all wait behind the curtain*

~ "where is the person helping me strip him?"

~ "Kroger is just nicer people's Walmart"

~ *everyone getting ready and quoting vines*

~ "free sh- fre sha va cado"

"What?"

~ "who's stepping on my shoes?! Who- oh it's me."

~ "I have to get home! I have a wife and kids!"

"You're 12"

"SIMS"

~ *the boys dressing room prank calls random restaurants*

~ *I have my legs up while I'm sitting on the dressing room table* *my friend slaps my bare leg* "that's a nice slab of meat ma'am"

~ " Can someone explain why it's called Buffalo Wild Wings if Buffalo don't have wings?"

"It's Buffalo sauce on chicken wings, Cayenne."

"Oh!"

~ "OOH draw me as a furry!" (Said by a twelve year old)

~ "Maddi... Draw me a chicken!"

~ (there is a stool in the girls dressing room that is so falling apart the seat is all duct tape and it comes off, it looks horrid.) "Hey guys look! It's the butt stool"

~ "hey gals the fun has arrived!"

(Everyone at the same time): "the fun has been here"/"Where is she?"

~ "someone just dropped their foot! I mean their shoe!"

~ "you only have 3/4 leg to shave and 1 and 1/4 leg to not shave"

Feel free to add on with the weirdest shit you guys have heard theatre kids say!

#theatre memes #theatre production #theatre kid #theatre #high school theatre #highschool theatre #theatreblr #shit high schoolers say #shit theatre kids say #weird shit kids say #weird shit high schoolers say #weird shit theatre kids say #high school theatre problems #highschools theatre #high school

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ticklyfluffstuff · 7 years

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Rubberhose Toons tickle headcanons

So after I (and you) saw @gigglygamer’s Epic Mickey headcanons, I thought for a moment…and I decided to make my own tickle headcanons…but with rubberhoze toons!

WARNING!! THERE WILL BE A LOT OF CUTENESS. I DO NOT TAKE RESPONSIBILITY IF THIS MELTS YOUR HEART.

Mickey Mouse (Playful Switch)

A good boy. Too pure for this world.

His sides, hips, underarms and stomach are his worst spots.

Squeals and yelps.

Due to his voice being pitched, there will be a point where his squeals will be as pitched as his voice.

Kicks his legs if you get him juuuuust right.

When he’s tickling, keep in mind that, if he finds your weakspot, you’re doomed.

If he realizes you’re going to tickle him, he’ll run away.

He cannot stand teases, both physical and verbally.

Even though he begs for mercy and such, he kinda likes to be tickled…

He’s Oswald’s primary objective.

Oswald the Lucky Rabbit (Evil Ler/Tough Lee):

He says he’s not ticklish, when in reality he is.

He blushes when you wiggle your fingers teasingly towards him.

When tickled, he will try not to laugh, but always fails.

Squeals and cackles.

When tickled hard enough, he will either pound his fist on the ground, or foot thumps it.

His hips are his weakness.

When he’s the lee, he will use a lot of tickle talk.

Evil laughs…

Mickey and Felix are his preys. And vice-versa.

Felix the Cat (Cheeky Ler/Adorkable Lee):

Oh boy, where do I start…

His whole body is ticklish, like, extremely ticklish.

His thighs are ticklish too.

Squirms a lot, he’s like a wiggly worm :3

He canNOT STAND RASPBERRIES AND VERBAL TEASING LIKE HOL Y FU CK.

His squeals are pitched too, just like Mickey’s.

If you give him a signal that you’re going to tickle him, he’ll get a wobbly smile on his face and he’ll start to giggle.

Don’t tell this to anyone, but he secretly loves- no. Scratch that. He ENJOYS being tickled!

Oswald knows this.

After you tickle him, he’ll be nothing but a adorable blushpuddle.

But when he’s the lee…

Boy, here we go…

He uses his tail to tickle, which only makes it ten times w o r s e.

He cooes a lot about your laugh

‘’What’s so funny, huh?’’

After he’s done tickling/being tickled, he’ll be in a very cuddling mood.

He can admit he loves being tickled, although shyly.

Bendy the Dancing Demon (Mischiveous Ler/Playful Lee):

Ultra freaking ticklish

Like god, who can be that ticklish?

Squeals a lot and cackles.

He h a t e s teases.

Since he’s so small, your hands fits perfectly all around his body.

He begs and screams for mercy.

Raspberries kill him.

Doesn’t like getting his ribs counted or using his body as a math board.

If he gets the chance to tickle you, he’ll use ink to pin you down, or he’ll call Searchers to wreck you down.

He kinda likes tummy scratches, just don’t scratch deeply, that’ll get him into giggles.

Boris is his ler predator.

He usally tickles Bendy when he’s in a grumpy mood, in a sad one, or even because Boris wants to.

Cuphead (Mischiveous Ler/Fighter Lee):

A tough dude.

His sides and ribs melts him.

Since he’s a fighter, he’ll try to fight and get away.

But when he gives up, he’ll cover his face to prevent you from seeing his red face.

Cackles.

Kicks his legs out in the air.

The liquid in his head (which is the essence of his soul) will steam and get hot, and there will be bubbles coming out from his straw.

He and Mugman have tickle fights just for fun.

Cuphead always win…

I hope you like it <:3c

AWWWWWWW! These are perfect hcs! They’re adorable! :D

#submission

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3one3 · 7 years

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The Sequel - 871

Playing Dragons

André Schürrle, Juan Mata, other Chelsea/BVB players, and random awesome OC’s (okay they’re less random now but they’re still pretty awesome)

original epic tale

all chapters of The Sequel

“I love your body, Prinzessin. I don’t understand how it works. Your skeleton must be so, so tiny. You have squish on top of the bones but your exterior is also tiny. I can poke my finger into your skin and it goes down. Other small girls, you poke your finger and it just stops. It’s skin and then bone. You have beautiful squish, but not any fat. None. And no bulky muscle. So your bones must be really close together or something. I don’t understand it.”

“Are you high?”

André’s bizarre monologue ended when Christina turned around to look at him like he was nuts. She was sitting up Indian-style in bed and he was lying down, gently rubbing her back while she tried to finger-comb and gather her hair back into an elastic high on her head, away from her neck. His earlier speech, about her favorite things and why she thought he’d forgotten them, was taken up as a challenge. He said he still did her favorite things that used to evoke that cute squeak from her that he adored so much, and that she just didn’t experience them the same way anymore because she was so close to Juan instead, and that she couldn’t have that level of intimacy with more than one person at a time. He said his kisses and touches used to feel so special to her because she didn’t feel them from the inside anymore- the idea being that she felt them in her heart, not just on her skin. Her husband told her that she let Juan fill the only space in her heart- that she opened herself up to him, and was more connected with him- and thus could experience only his physical love from the inside out that way. The rider refuted the whole theory. She insisted André had not been displaced from her heart, and she vowed to try to be more open and giving of herself so that he could still make her feel the way she loved most. They agreed to practice right away, despite her painful wound.

“No, I’m just confused,” the player shrugged, his hand still flat on her back- a safe distance from the bandage covering the cut. Since thoughtless tickling in the region of said cut was what sparked the fight that got to the “favorite things” discussion, he was vigilant and careful about not hurting her further when she let him take her clothes and accepted the invitation into his lap. Christina turned and leaned down to smooch his innocent and indeed confused looking face.

“I want to lay down but I’m afraid it’s going to hurt,” she told him, nose wrinkled up in displeasure. A naked blonde hunk of a man reclining comfortably on layered satin pillows with messy bed-head, a lazy smile, and peace in his eyes was a most inviting proposition. She just didn’t know how to install herself without putting pressure on her tree branch cut. Her back was constantly reminding her that she hadn’t given it a break since she got hurt.

“Lay on your side. Here, like you usually do.” André lifted his right arm to make room in his wife’s usual spot. The wound began on her right side and reached a few inches around her back. Her regular position at and on his side would keep it free of danger as long as her cuddle partner remembered not to rest his forearm on it. He was still trying to figure out if she enjoyed making love or not- or really, if she felt anything significant, and experienced the love he gave with his lips and hands and voice the way she lamented missing. The previously commonplace squeaking sound they spoke of didn’t happen, so he was pretty sure he was right about her inability to give herself up completely to two different people. That was what he thought brought on the squeak, always. Christina let all shields down, took off every piece of armor, trusted him, and allowed herself to believe all the things he’d ever said to her and the promise made by every look, smooch, hand-hold, and sigh. Only then could she truly enjoy the deepest level of sexual connection with him, he was sure. Love was the key to physical ecstasy- comprehensive, unguarded, vulnerable, intimate love. The BVB man was equally as sure that no one could ever maintain that specific connection with more than one partner at a time. He knew when it was broken between his wife and himself, and he knew why. The orgasms that night were strong, but the precious link was still weak.

“I need to pee first.”

“Don’t put anything back on,” he warned with a calm wink. His girl smooched his cheek and then got up, leaving him to yawn, stretch a little, have some water from the bedside table, and check his phone. It wasn’t particularly late yet but he was tired, and especially sleepy. He didn’t tell Christina not to restore her clothes because he intended to “practice” more. He just felt like cuddling with her naked body, which really did amaze him in so many ways. The most important in that moment were its warmth and softness and the feeling of security he enjoyed when he could hold it close- safe and sound and just for him. That body rejoined him in bed very gingerly and tentative. The player tried to be as welcoming and accommodating as possible, adjusting himself for her so that she could be still.

“I’m tired,” she yawned once they were both settled. “Are you gonna hold me up all night so I don’t fall over and wake up screaming in pain?”

“Yes.”

“You’re hairy.” The Olympian twirled some almost invisible fuzz around the very tip of her right pointer and nodded her head a bit to see if she could feel the hair on her cheek too. André’s blonde chest fuzz only seemed to grow right in the middle though.

“The electric razor needs new blades. I get bumps the last few times I use it for my body,” he yawned. They were going to keep passing the yawn back and forth. “Do you want to put your show on? How many episodes do you have left?”

“About 20, and yes please. I’ll probably fall asleep, but that’s okay.”

There was disappointment between husband and wife, and neither was wont to discuss it. Putting another episode of Game of Thrones on and seeing who would fall asleep first was easier, and less stressful, and less depressing. Christina realized that André was right. His lips on the best places in the best way didn’t feel like her favorite thing. They certainly didn’t feel bad, but they didn’t feel overwhelming. Never in her wildest dreams did she imagine the disconnect was her doing. Never did she think the problem could be fitting two footballers into her heart. She always thought the problem was splitting herself in two to fill the space in the heart of each one of them. It was her staunch belief that the space in her own grew to accommodate them both. That never felt entirely right. There was always something off from the crowding. But until André tried to convince her that it was impossible for two men to occupy the same space within her, Christina never even considered it- nor considered that she didn’t love them equally. She thought they didn’t love her equally. It was very unpleasant to have his theory of the case demonstrated for her, by her. It was always difficult for her to admit she was wrong about anything. To admit it about that would have been a terrible conversation. And she knew her fuzzy-chested pillow knew it anyway. It wasn’t necessary to admit it aloud. Her lack of sound was actually an admission. He felt no need to do a victory lap, since they were technically both losers.

Nothing was any different in the morning. Christina woke Lukas and switched him from his overnight diaper into his pull ups, sat with him in the bathroom for a little while to see if he needed to go, helped him pick an outfit for the morning, and then made him Mickey Mouse-shaped fried eggs with the in-pan mould Espen picked up somewhere, a mini croissant he could tear apart himself, and some apple slices he could pick up with his hands. His favorite meals were ones equally divided between knife and fork foods and finger foods, because he liked to show everyone that he could handle his silverware capably but also enjoyed the satisfaction of shoving food in his mouth and thus getting it from plate to palate much more quickly. His dad stumbled sleepily into the kitchen before he was finished- just in time to be handed responsibility for him so that his mom could go work out, and a glass of fresh-squeezed orange juice for his trouble. He was too tired to make a big deal out of it, but André really resented the “ships passing in the night” nature of mornings in his home. He resented that he walked into the kitchen, got juice and a kiss on the cheek, and Christina left, often without much more than a “good morning” and a “thanks”. Usually he supervised Lukas for a little while and then either passed him back to Mommy and got himself ready to go to training, or passed him off to Espen and got himself ready to go to training. He was having breakfast with his teammates at Brackel instead of with his family, and that meant less interaction with them every day. It was nice on Tuesday morning to remember that his schedule was different thanks to the international break, and he was taking Christina out for breakfast before the grocery shopping.

“What will it be, Prinzessin?” he asked her after giving her a solid three minutes to study the chalkboard menu at the cafe and restaurant they frequented when she first started spending time in Dortmund. It was in the expensive neighborhood where many of his teammates lived, and where he was staying while he waited for her and the cavalry. There weren’t that many things on the cafe menu to study, but Christina wanted everything so it was hard for her to make a decision. Her breakfast date found the serious and contemplative manipulations of her face rather adorable, despite the length of time required to cycle through all of them.

“I think...the banana bread with espresso mascarpone and honey, and an iced coffee.”

“A sweet breakfast for a sweet Prinzessin? Alright. Go pick a table.”

“Nothing could be as sweet as your overly saccharine adoration this morning,” she told him with skeptical eyes.

“I don’t know what that means.” André shrugged at her and kissed her forehead. She shrugged back and spun around to collect silverware, napkins, and straws to take to whichever table looked good, and he laughed at the way her long, wavy ponytail swung side to side with her steps.

“You didn’t call me last night :(“ the rider texted to Juan while she waited for his former teammate to order their food and bring their numbered block of wood to the table so that the runners could find them when her banana bread and his sweet potato waffle were ready. Much to her surprise, Juan got back to her right away.

“You said to call when I was alone. I wasn’t alone.”

Is he trying to make me jealous? Or hurt me? Or remind me that he has other opportunities? Why even say this, she wondered. He could have just said he forgot, or he was out late and then went to sleep. Why passive-aggressively inform me that he didn’t spend the night alone while on a mini holiday to France with Taylor? Boys are dumb. Except Dirk. I know I said I was giving him a long vacation, but I miss sitting on him so much. Today is for working on Cartagena’s attitude about slowing down though, and getting Kimi to go long and low and let go of some of that tension he’s got in his topline out of nowhere, and...something with Socksyface. I don’t remember but I know I wrote it in my notebook. Calvin will probably need a consoling hack inside today too so he’s not emotionally scarred for life by the bird strike and solo run home. Le sigh. Boyfriend’s collarbone cleavage looks hot in that shirt, Christina added as idle commentary as André approached with their drinks. He usually looks stupid in those t-shirts with the huge necks. Maybe this one is okay because it’s a dark color.

“There’s more milk up there if you want it,” he told her after putting down her coffee. He added enough milk to make it the color he thought was right.

“Thank you. You look good in that shirt.”

“Thank you.”

“What are you drinking?”

“Chai latte.”

“Ew.”

“I ordered some scrambled eggs on the side for you so you don’t get hungry in an hour.”

“Why are you being so charming today, hm?”

“I’m charming every day.”

“Uhhuh.” Our home was a charm-free zone for the entirety of last week.

“What are you doing today after shopping?”

“Taking pictures of my ponies playing in their paddocks, braiding their manes, and riding around on Dirk pretending he’s a dragon, or at least pretending that we’re running from an army in Westeros or something.”

“Really?”

“No,” Christina snorted. “I have shit to do.”

“Like what?”

“Like real riding. Things I have to fix with the horses.”

“Says who?’

“Me.”

“Do you want to spend the day taking pictures of them and braiding their manes and pretending Dirk is a dragon?”

“It wouldn’t be the worst way to pass a Tuesday.”

“So why not do that then? Which one of them is irreparably harmed by having a day off in the field to just be a horse instead of having one of his problems fixed?”

“If I thought that way all the time, they’d all be useless.”

“Yeah, but we’re not talking about all the time. We’re talking about today. And you probably shouldn’t ride seriously yet anyway with the cut. Your Olympics experience should have taught you two things-“

“That’s it? Only two?”

“Shh. You should have learned that life and sport don’t always reward perfection. You were perfect there and you didn’t win individually. And you got there and succeeded there without being perfect and making the rigid choice at every question, yeah? Do you think if you had trained more and taken fewer days off you would have been a second faster and won two golds instead of gold and silver?”

“No.”

“Then you can put off fixing your horses’ problems today and do what you want.”

“What if I want to train more than I want to play dragons?”

“That’s fine too. Do that, then. I think the thing you should take from both lessons is that you can trust your judgement, Olympic Champion Prinzessin. Do what you feel like doing. It’s probably going to be the best thing, most of the time.”

“What if I feel like blowing straw paper in your face?” Christina snickered before hitting the uncharacteristically philosophical football player square between the eyes with her paper weapon.

“Your dragon will accidentally singe your ponytail off for that.”

“Nuh-uh. He’s my dragon. He’d never hurt me.”

“Christina, Mother of Horses Pretending to be Dragons?”

“I mean technically I’d be the one pretending he’s a dragon, not him, so...”

“Why do I sense an incredibly ill-advised Dirk-dragon music video coming?”

“That’s BRILLIANT!”

“Oh no...”

“Oh yes! You’re a genius, boyfriend.”

“You’re not allowed to watch the show anymore. I’m cutting you off.” André crossed his arms and leaned back from the table, a phony look of disgust lighting up his face in response to the bright light shining from his girl’s. He hoped she was enlivened by banter and flirting with him, and not by the idea of producing some cheesy dragon-concept video with her Holsteiner.

“I could continue this war of words with a slew of dangerous Thrones puns but I would really rather talk about what you want me to feed you for dinner tonight that will ensure the peace and confidence I require.” She folded her arms across her chest too and tried to counter his phony disgust with phony slyness. That lasted for about two seconds before she gave it up in favor of trying her cold brew.

“You’re still doing it. You’re talking like the people on the show.”

“Just tell me what you want to eeeeeeeat,” she whined.

“Why? Why do we have to talk about practical things? I’d rather hear your imagination and impulses.”

“You know, it doesn’t feel authentic when you totally change your behavior the morning after I complain about a list of things.” The rider’s eyes dropped from the contest and focused on the protective sleeve around her plastic cup. She’d taught André that they weren’t just for hot cups. They can soak up condensation from cold drinks and save one from dripping wet fingers. She was afraid he learned from her during their talks on Monday that she was bored and frustrated with their regular interactions- that he took from her perception that he forgot her favorite things that she meant silly conversations and flirt-fighting too, not just lollipops and kisses.

“I literally can’t do anything right for you, is that it?” André questioned back, his tone measured and unemotional. “You say you’re unhappy about certain things so I try to do better, or change, and then you’re unhappy that I listened? It only counts if I know what’s wrong on my own and fix it before you tell me?”

“No, it’s just- I don’t know. It feels like an act you’re putting on today, being all sweet and cute, and telling me my instincts are always right and I should take a day to goof off instead of train, and-“

“Why would it be an act? I believe everything I said. How would I even think to say it if it didn’t come to me? You’ve closed a chapter now and you can afford to try different things before you write the title of the next chapter,” he shrugged, moving his drink and knife and fork out of the way as he saw his breakfast approaching. Christina saw the tray of food too and waited to respond. Her banana bread, smeared with an unhealthy amount of espresso-tinted mascarpone, sprinkled with toasted buckwheat pearls, and drizzled with organic honey, looked delightful and indulgent. It was something she never would think to make at home, so it had extra appeal. Her partner, less dazzled by his still very nice looking sweet potato waffle adorned with bacon and glazed Brussels’ sprouts, kept talking since she hesitated after the server took the empty tray and the wooden number block away. “If you just train with the horses every day and plan your competition schedule as usual, you might speed right by this chance to maybe consider a different kind of goal, or opportunity, and I don’t even just mean outside of riding. Within it too. I don’t know what else there is but I’m sure you do. Maybe you want to focus more on the younger horses, or you want to do more of the big derby classes, or go to competitions you’ve never done before- I have no idea. I want you to give yourself a chance to make sure you know. Maybe you want to spend more time with Mausi before he’s old enough for kindergarten. Don’t go right back to your routine and the same mindset that you needed to get to Tokyo. Use the chance to see if you want anything different. I didn’t mean for suggesting to take one day off to play dragons and give your imagination a chance to stretch its legs for something other than problem solving to be a major deal, actually. I just thought it would be nice for you, and for them too.”

“I’m sorry for doubting, then,” the rider conceded with her mouth half-full. How sad is it that I thought him incapable of just being sweet on his own, and being thoughtful about what I do with my time? He’s clearly thought about it as much as I have, she admitted to herself. We’re just thinking about different things. I’m thinking about exploring the world outside of horses with Juanin, and he’s thinking of much more logical futures. That thing about doing more derbies isn’t a bad idea, really. And neither is going to new shows. I’d still like to go to Spruce, and maybe a few weeks in Florida this winter. My preliminary vision was to show slightly less and travel slightly more, which I could do by cutting down on the number of big classes Nicky does, which is good for him anyway because he’s an old man, and letting Kyle show Calvin more because he deserves that chance and it’ll make Calvin even more rideable. Holger can help him at shows I don’t go to. They don’t necessarily need me. Or I could scrap that entirely and take Calvasaurus to the events with super difficult derbies. He loves them. Dirk is so good at them too though. I suppose there are enough of those to go round. What I do know for sure is that Cartagena doesn’t need me to keep moving up. Kyle is doing fine with him even though he looks ridiculous with that tall upper body. Stef could even do him too. I think in general it would be good for me to have one less horse to factor in.

“What are you thinking about while you devour your dessert-breakfast?” André interjected into her introspection. He could tell she was absorbed in some topic in her head, but he wasn’t sure if she was contemplating the ideas he presented to her or that he presented them. His hope was the former. Their relationship, and their daily conversations, especially, weren’t supposed to require that much strategic or analytical effort. Christina half-smiled at him.

“All the healthy food I’ll have to eat later to offset the calories,” she said.

“I think you should make the spicy shrimp on the barbecue with the coconut rice. That was a good experiment. And it’ll make the boyfriend thirsty, he’ll drink a lot, and probably embarrass himself.”

“You’re supposed to be telling me what you want me to make for you to buy your good behavior, not to conspire against the poor guy.”

“I’ll be on my best behavior, within reason,” André winked. “Even though you lied to me.” His girl looked at him with incredulity, and cheese on her face that made him laugh. “You weren’t thinking about calories before.”

“Yes I was! You should too. That’s a lot of bacon. Maybe I should eat some, to protect you from the calories.” Christina eyed his fried pork belly and nonchalantly picked up her fork. He rolled his eyes and cut her a piece before she could just steal it.

“Thank youuuuu, and thank you for the scrambled eggs too. They’re pretty good. And also for being...you.” She poked at the bone sticking out of his right wrist and watched his eyes move about his plate. She could have said “for being sweet”, or “thoughtful”, or “charming”, but she consciously chose to highlight that being those things was being himself as she knew him. So much of her disappointment and dissatisfaction over the previous year stemmed from him not being those things, and what she deemed not himself.

“You’re welcome.”

“And thanks for the dragon video idea. I’m totally doing that.”

“I know when you’re full of it, pretty girl,” the BVB man reminded, hoping his girl understood that he was still talking about her earlier response too, about offsetting calories. She can talk out of and around it all she wants but I know she was thinking about something important, he reiterated inside, acknowledging the fact but stopping short of getting upset about it. I’m almost used to her keeping the important things from me. That’s part of our problem. I can’t force it out of her though. I can only keep showing her that it’s safe and helpful to share with me. And try to share more with her too. Oh, hey... “Would you like to use my nice camera to take pictures of the horses?”

“Yeah, maybe. I was mostly kidding about the pictures but I actually would like some candid photos of them just hanging out at home. We don’t have any that aren’t in magazines about the barn.”

“I’ll get it for you before I leave.”

“Thanks.”

“I might even show you how to use it.”

“Does it have any dragon filters?”

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rosestopaint · 7 years

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Kingdom Hearts mini project part II - here’s part I.

It’s been … three years now, more or less. Riku throws what little belongings he has onto the bed. It’s a tiny room with one, terribly dirty window and a truly ancient looking closet, but it’s better than sleeping outside. The low light of a nearby gas light throws a convenient spotlight on his glove, where the Mark of Mastery glints silver. He feels exhausted suddenly, mentally more than physically. Three years can be a very long time. He’s seen Sora and Kairi since, and Master Mickey of course.

But while he loves few things as much as seeing his friends again, there’s also always a degree pain involved. Kairi is still the king’s apprentice but more than rearing to take the Mark of Mastery Exam. The last time he saw her she’d cut of her hair and traded her pink skirts for an equally pink pair of pants. “If I fail this because my hair is getting in the way or – or my skirt flaps up, I’m going to jump right of Master Yen Sid’s tower,” she growled at Sora and him. “You’ve both been running off, I can’t stand to be trapped here any longer.”

“We visit you,” Riku reminded her but all he got in return was half-serious glare and vengeful jab in the side, right where it tickles the worst. Sora took that moment to make a strategic retreat. His friend could have passed the exam years ago, but instead chose to wait for Kairi. He’s more experienced, so he gets a lot more leeway to run off and thump heartless when he gets restless, but officially he too is still the king’s apprentice.

“I think it’s a good thing,” Sora confessed to him some time last year. “Looking back, I have no idea how we made it this far on guts and determination alone. I still have no idea what I’m doing most of the time.” Riku had to agree with him. And that’s what stings.

While Sora and Kairi are getting their formal training, Riku is nobody’s apprentice. He’s a Master himself, traveling across the worlds rid them of the heartless. And yet, he has no idea what he’s doing either. It’s … disconcerting. There’s only so far he can get on his own, and while Master Yen Sid may think it’s impressive that he made it to Master ‘on guts and determination alone’, Riku can’t help but feel that he must have coasted along on a shit ton of luck. What he gets now is experience, and that’s great – but how well can experience hold up against someone who has it too, and a proper apprenticeship to boot?

“I’m sorry,” the king said. “I wish I could help you, but Riku there’s nothing I can teach you. You did pass the exam. You are a Master – what you need is guidance, and I’m afraid I cannot help you in that regard.”

It’s true. At first he was hurt and admittedly also frightened. What was he supposed to do? But the king said nothing that Riku himself hadn’t already suspected. After all he was something of an apprentice to Master Mickey for a while and learnt a lot. And he knows that the mouse cares for him a great deal; they are kindred spirits of sorts. He was very similar, the king once confessed, to how he himself had been in his youth. When Riku had asked him to clarify, the mouse had looked rather wry. “Cocky, mostly.” But despite that, they were not particularly similar in the ways that mattered most.

“What you need,” he said, “is self-control. You are still a hot-head, Riku. And your darkness will capitalize on it. The former I could help you with, the latter … I’m sorry.”

And isn’t that ironic? A Master like Maleficent would have been perfect just then. When Riku really thinks about it, it might be karma coming back to bite him. For a time he went through Masters like nothing: Maleficent, Xehanort, the king, Ansem the Wise … and now that he’s really looking for one, he can’t find one. It made him a jack of all trades and almost literally the master of none.

Since then he spent three months with a man called Asba at the edge of a forest, who claimed to have reached divine self-awareness (that nut job), nine months with a hedge witch called Ethel who tried to put him in touch with his inner darkness (thanks for that traumatizing experience), almost an entire year in a monastery on a mountain in the middle of goddamn nowhere to try and meditate himself to patience (but damn did his keyblade frighten those monks), and far too much time contemplating his own inadequacies (thanks for that, mom).

But Riku is nothing if not stubborn – and if he’s being honest also a little desperate. It’s been four years after all, and Xehanort is being suspiciously quiet. It’s not like he’s gone; Riku has seen him several times, has gotten his ass kicked once or twice and teamed up with Sora to wring out a victory a few times more than that. Every single one of these encounters felt like the epic one, the last one. Every single time it turns out that it wasn’t.

They can’t keep beating him forever. All it takes is a single true defeat and they’re done for, but the Xehanort appears to take them almost casually. Yelling and screaming, yes, but never permanently. Secretly, he suspects that most of them were merely a cover-up for something much larger. There’s nothing quite like keeping your enemy busy, after all. It’s a tactic Maleficent enjoyed immensely and that Riku himself carried out for her more times than he can count.

He needs to get a handle on his powers or eventually someone stronger than him will use them against him.

There’s yelling downstairs and Riku jerks out of his thoughts. He doesn’t feel very confident about this place, but looks can be deceiving. Maybe he’ll find his Master here.

#kingdom hearts #fanfic #riku #snippet #KH

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