#lmao i took that line and ran w it | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

thatone-brightstar · 6 months

Text

Amy's kinktober alphabet blurbs w/ special guest Carmy Berzatto! (6/6)

a/n: first of all, happy international chef's day! second, i got my internet conection back and that's worth celebrating with the last part of this hot as hell seriessss. you can totally tell i love carmy in uniform lmao

Don't forget to like and repost or comment with the one you like the most bc we will be getting a full length one shot of the winner! PS. lmk if you wanna be added to the taglist!

Warnings: Minors DNI, p in v unprotected sex, creampie, choking, semi public, oral sex (both f and m receiving), knifeplay, spit kink, knife play, fingering,

V is for: Visuals.

‘-the time difference is kicking my ass.’ He heard your tired whisper through the speaker and sighed along with you while taking a drag from his cig. ‘I really miss you…’ You confessed even more softly, pulling a smile over his own tired face.

‘I really miss you too.’ He mumbled back and despite being completely alone, his face still flared up at the confession.

You hummed along with his response, then after a few silent seconds you asked: ‘what do you miss about me?’

Carmy chuckled nervously and ran his hand down his face, falling back against the kitchen counter..

‘I miss… your pretty face’ He began and closed his eyes to picture you on the other side of the phone; probably in your pajamas, biting on your bottom lip and trying to avoid the goofy smile his response caused. ‘I miss kissing you…’

‘Hmm… what else?’ You breathed out that made him swallow hard and stir his hips.

He couldn’t think of what else to say, he was shit at normal conversation and now the idea of phone sex had erased the words from his brain.

You were quiet on the other line for a while and he was almost sure you had fallen asleep, until he heard movement and a heavy sigh.

Then his phone vibrated near his cheek and your voice whispered sweetly. ‘Does that help?’

His heart stopped at the sight of your full breasts on display and the rest of your body barely covered by the hotel robe, then his blood traveled south to the forming tent in his pants.

‘What else do you miss, Carmy?’

W is for: Whites.

‘Ready to go?’ You called, walking in from the back door and immediately stopping in your tracks.

Carmen stood leaning tiredly against the marble bar, hair disheveled and chef white sleeves rolled up to his forearms, letting the designs on his skin peek from under. Despite the fatigue evident on his face, he still offered a loving smile towards you.

‘’M just checkin’ produce for tomorrow. Ten more minutes?’ He asked and reached a strong hand in your direction.

All you could do was nod and swallow the sudden dryness that invaded your mouth at the sight of him. He gave you a quick kiss and moved back to the scribbled pages.

You hopped on the empty space beside him and took a quick look around the empty room, then bit your lip and stared back at him through doe eyes. You’d seen him many times before in his chef whites, but something about the concentration in his eyes and the flexing of muscle under the material had you completely soaked, and the thin material of your skirt wasn’t helping.

He felt your intense gaze and flickered his eyes around your face, landing on your lips. ‘What?’ He asked.

You bit your lip and watched him swallow hard, taking the bait. ‘You look really fuckin’ hot right now…’

Carmy chuckled softly and shook his head. ‘What’s doin’ it for ya? The smell of onions or the Hollandaise stains?’

Your fingers wrapped around the edge of the still pristine uniform and pulled timidly, eyes heavy on his.

‘...really?’ He asked again in disbelief and planted a hand near your naked thigh, leaning towards you.

You shrugged and parted your thighs where his hips fit perfectly, then threaded your fingers through his hair and watched him close his eyes, slightly groaning. ‘I like a man in uniform…’

X is for: ‘X marks the spot’

With your hands resting under your cheek and your chest flat on the bed, you could feel the line of goosebumps follow the soft graze of Carmen’s lips. They had started at your shoulder blades- pulling soft breathy giggles from your flushing chest- then down your spine, where they met his strong hands holding your waist.

‘Is it there?’ He asked for the fifth time, though you wondered if he was enjoying the search more than actually trying to find your sweet spot.

A soft whine came out when one hand curved past your hip, in between the valley of your ass and to the spot he knew would certainly bring you bliss.

‘No cheating…’ You mumbled back between a moan and the disheveled sheets, making him chuckle again.

You felt his hand move back to your hip bone and his body hover over yours before the warmth of his chest pressed against your back. Dexterous fingers ran through your scalp and the sultry kiss he placed at the base of your neck was enough for your nerves to spark alight and your hips to push back against him.

‘Found it…’ He joked, warm breath caressed your ear and another kiss had your eyes rolling back.

Y is for: ‘Yes, Chef’

‘Say it again-’ He instructed through a heavy breath and a jerk of his hips that had the words turning into a scrambled groan.

You clawed against the cold counter hoping to find something to hold on to because fuck, he was making you feel so good you thought you might float away. Carmy raked his nails through your messy hair and pulled you up with a firm but gentle grip.

‘C’mon pretty girl- you were so fuckin’ bold hours ago, what happened?’ You could hear the satisfaction in his words.

He stopped his thrusts long enough to give your lungs a needed breath, only to pull your knee up on the counter and bury into you at a deeper angle. The new sensation pulled a squeal from your throat and your head fell back against his strong shoulders.

‘You still gonna talk back in front of everybody?’ He sneered again and wrapped another hand over your swollen cunt.

All you could do was shake your head.

‘You gonna be good from now on?’ Carmen asked while his fingers began circular motions.

‘Yes…’ You moaned a little too loud and his fingers sped up.

‘Yes what?’ He asked again and softly pressed the sides of your neck until your eyes rolled back and your breasts raised with your struggling pants.

Z is for: Zesty.

With Carmy, it was always like the first time. There was never a moment where he was too tired, or too busy, or too in his head that having you bouncing on his cock couldn’t fix. The simple idea that you were his filled him with a new fervor, a fresh wave of energy that had his hands groping at your ass and pulling you up as he stood from the old chair.

You squealed in surprise and circled your thighs tightly around his hips, then heard the sound of everything on the desk falling heavily on the ground before the cold wood touched your skin. His lips latched onto yours as he continued his frantic movements, on hand on your head to avoid you bumping against the top shelf while the other rested on your cheek.

When he pulled away, his eyes were wild and glossy, even in the dim light you could spot the silhouette of your flushed face.

‘Tell me you’re mine.’ He muttered between peppered kisses that made you heave and smile.

‘I’m a-all yours baby-’ Carmy’s smile grew at your immediate answer, thrusting even deeper into the spot that caused lightning bolts to course through your spine.

‘All mine…’ He muttered as he settled your back over the desk and pushed your legs up to your chest. ‘All mine.’

____________

Taglist: @pearlstiare @teteminne , @beebslebobs, @harrysmatcha , @yum-yahgurt , @pussy-f41ry , @kirakombat , @redsakura101 , @hobisunshine13 , @feyhunter78

268 notes · View notes

sxtvrns · 1 year

Text

to reunite and resolve

🎶 now playing: don’t grow up too fast - grentperez

P: Connor Murphy x Fem!Reader

S: You were the one of the only people he called a friend. He wanted to call you more than that.

W: mentions of drug use, smoking, anxiety, cursing, sexual content, spoilers, short

N: Basing this off of Mike Faist’s Connor Murphy, because his version of Connor the one I envisioned while writing this. Some information is taken from the book adaptation of the musical. In the book, Connor explains that he is some form of LGBTQ+, yet it is never specified; hints of this are being used in this fic. this is super short and kinda shit LMAO

please interact if you enjoy!

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

When he first threw that printer in second grade, you were the first thing he saw out of the corner of his eye. Everyone… well, almost everyone, looked at him in horror, screams so loud they could be heard from down the hall, besides Jared Kleinman, who said that the whole facade was so cool.

Some kids ran, some kids took cover, but you stood there with your mouth hanging open, gaze switching between Mrs. G and Connor. And to think the only reason for this was because he didn’t get to be line leader that day.

He couldn’t tell what you thought of him after that. There wasn’t a single thought behind your face that could determine whether you thought he was cool or you thought he was insane. But he resorted to the worst— you thinking he was a crazy maniac who had a breakdown only because he didn’t get what he wanted that day.

But no, that wasn’t the case. He sat down under a tree during recess one day, and you just so happened to be lurking on the other side of it. You peeked out, looking at the book he was reading. “Is that The Little Prince?” You ask, startling him. “Yeah. Why?”

“It was a bit sad, but I liked it. Which part are you on?”

“The part where he dies.”

Awkward.

“I’ve read this book 5 times.”

“So it’s your favourite?” He shrugs. “One of them.” You sit down next to him, eyes skimming over the words on the page. “I don’t like Mrs. G very much. She always finds something wrong in my work and points it out to the class,” you start, staring at Mrs. G who’s talking to a teacher far across the playground. “I don’t think you should do it again, but I thought that was cool.”

“What was cool?”

“When you threw that printer. Was it heavy?” He shakes his head. “You’re strong! That’s even cooler!”

He shuts his book with a quiet thump. “Shouldn’t you be talking to Lily over there? Or… Jane?” You shrug. “I don’t really have a group of friends. I talk to them and we’re friendly with each other, but… they don’t like the things I like. I don’t know– it seems like on some days they don’t like me and then other days they do. Maybe I’m just scared of that.”

“You’re lucky the printer didn’t hit Mrs. G. You’re even luckier you didn’t get in big trouble. I think that you were angry and you didn’t mean to hurt anyone.” He’s surprised by how well you manage to read him. He didn’t even know how he felt himself. It was an overwhelming feeling of rage that any six year old would have when things didn’t go their way, just that he approached it in a way that no one would believe a six year old would be able to do.

“Do you wanna see the books I’m reading later? You can borrow them if you’d like.” Connor looks at you and that stupid hopeful expression on your face, reluctantly nodding. He wasn’t one to turn down a read. He’d gotten sick of the rose hunting prince anyways.

Most kids in your class would rather go for the toys and playmat while the library picked up dust. Connor watched you every time you went to the little library in your room to pick up a book, always leaning over to see what you were reading. You seemed like one of the only avid readers in your class, not dozing off or merely flipping pages for convenience during silent reading. You really took your time in absorbing what was on the pages; sometimes he witnessed you even shed a tear.

From there, the two of you became good friends. Every partner project, you two would pair up. Every gym class, you’d be on the same team. If anything involved pairs, it would always be the two of you together, to the point where people started joking that you two were dating. Of course, you always brushed it off, but Connor seemed to think otherwise.

At the time, he couldn’t put his finger on what exactly he felt about you. He felt safe, happy, content. He also felt compassionate, open, and endearing. But years later, only when he went to Hanover and was in his first relationship, dealing with a multitude of emotional troubles, was when he realized what those feelings were.

Connor’s head rested on Miguel’s chest as he exhaled a puff of smoke. “She read a lot, sometimes I went over to her place, she always stayed by my side even thought she was made fun of, we’d trade lunches–“ He’s cut off by the sound of his friend chuckling. “Wow, you must’ve really liked her.”

“Huh?”

“I mean, I don’t think I’ve heard any guy in our entire school talk about a girl… not sexually.”

“That’s because we were in elementary. I wasn’t perverted.”

“Still, you blabber about her with such purity. Like a girl you really did love, even if you only were in the seventh grade. She seems nice. If you ever find her again, you should introduce her to me.” In the words that Miguel put it in, he was finally able to understand why he got so much more nervous around you. Why he’d scold himself for doing something moronic in front of you, unless that something made you laugh; he’d let out an internal sigh of relief.

Why he tended to defend you if someone teased you. Why he’d freeze up when your arm would brush against his. Why he’d always overthink about what you thought of him, knowing that you’d never leave his side. Instead, he left yours. He could see the hurt in your eyes after he told you he was moving schools and it almost made him want to stay just for you.

But knowing his parents, they wouldn’t understand why he’d change his mind so last minute.

Sometimes he didn’t understand why you stayed by his side. He knew you were somewhat of a fragile person, but watched you desensitize to those comments over the years.

Connor feels guilty talking about an old undetermined crush with a boy he was on indefinite terms with, but Miguel didn’t seem to mind. “I guess I did like her.” He squeezes Miguel’s hand, suddenly overwhelmed with disappointment. “And now I’ll never be able to see her again.”

“Didn’t you say you went to her place for projects and stuff? Couldn’t you pay her a visit?”

“What if she moved?”

Miguel scoffs. “Highly doubt it. What comes here, stays here.”

The suggestion played on loop in Connor’s head every day, even contemplating actually paying a visit. Yet he never owned up to it, until he was expelled and moved to a new school. Again.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

You rest your head on the desk, ignoring the homework reminders being given to the class. You stare blankly at the teacher through your hair, another boy coming into view that you hadn’t seen before.

His hair was brown, curly, and nearly reached his shoulders. He had defining cheekbones and painted nails, dark clothes and a messenger bag. A new student. A new student that you couldn’t help but think looked familiar to you, until you heard his name.

Connor Murphy.

He sat down in front of you, putting his bag to the side and kicking it under his desk. You wanted to talk to him, but it seemed like he didn’t recognize you either. Was it really him? The Connor Murphy who you sat under trees with, reading books and arguing about your favourite characters? The Connor Murphy who barely passed 4th grade?

“Connor…” You mutter a bit too loud, his head turned to side eye you. “What?” He replies, almost aggressively, his stare dark and hardening. You couldn’t believe it was him. But really, how many other Connor Murphy’s could there be in suburban New York?

He begins to turn away until you begin speaking. “Do you still read The Little Prince?” This time, he fully turns to you, eyes wide and no longer dull. “How many times have you read it since I’ve talked to you under that tree?” You smile, and Connor swears his heart stops. Out of pure shock, not attraction.

“Y/N?” He asks, and you nod, his face lighting up with a small smile. “Holy shit…” He sighs, his reaction making you giggle.

You’ve changed. You stopped tying your hair up, you gained a pair of dark circles, and he could just feel maturity radiating from you somehow. At least, you were more mature than he was.

“Um, I don’t really have anyone to hang out with during lunch. Do you wanna catch up then?” You offer, his head tilting. “Why not now? Instead of working on that project of yours.” Your face drops. “There’s a project?” What project was he talking about? Was it– oh, it was the role model one. You finished it already.

“Lucky you don’t have to do it. If we present, we get extra credit. I’m not up for humiliation though.” He turns around fully, and your eyes are drawn to his hands, slim and a bit veiny. He adorned a bracelet and his nail polish was black. He played with his fingers almost nervously, his hands on your desk. “What have you been up to?”

“I picked up guitar. Um, I do some vocal stuff outside of school.”

“Like performances?”

You nod. “Different genres. Jazz, pop, R&B… I’m in a few groups.” He nods. “I didn’t know you could sing.”

“I never showed off when we were younger. I’ve been taking lessons for a while.”

“Maybe you could show me later. Y’know, outside of school.” He quips with a hoping smile. “Are you flirting with me, Murphy?” You ask, leaning forward slightly, his eyes moving from your chest back to your eyes. “Maybe.” You scoff, shoving away his face. “You’re a pervert now?” You laugh, but his smile slowly begins to disappear.

“Oh, I was joking, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that– I mean, no one’s perverted to their childhood best friend right?” You awkwardly laugh while he sighs. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to look at you like that.”

“Like what?”

“Y/N, I was staring at your boobs.”

“Like a pervert?”

“For fuck’s sake, L/N, I am not a pervert.”

“Never said you were.”

You were provoking him. If it was another person doing the same thing, he’d have their head. Thrown something at them or given them a black eye. With you, it was all natural humour and jokes. He could brush it off without the need for bruising. The worst part was that you didn’t know you were aggravating him, with your cheeky smile and mischievous gaze.

Later that day, during lunch, you catch Connor off guard, leaning against a tree in the back of the school grounds where no one was, blowing out smoke. He tended to find solace in places where it was quiet and mostly alone. In high school, it was hard to find that kind of privacy, so you thought he’d be away and in the back where no one hung out, besides the drug dealers and porn magazine sellers.

“You smoke now?” You ask, him inhaling and letting out another puff. “I started a while ago. Keeps me sane.” He pulls it away from his mouth, contemplating. “I was gonna offer you some but, you sing now. I guess that comes in conflict.” How sweet of him to be so considerate. “Yeah. Wouldn’t wanna try it either way.”

You pause for a moment, watching him discard the joint. “How was Hanover?” You ask, a rush of memories overwhelming him all at once. “It was a fresh start. I liked it. I, um, made out with a dude? I don’t know, it was complicated.” You certainly didn’t expect that. “You had a boyfriend, then?”

“I dunno, we never specified on it. Complicated relationship.”

“How about girlfriends?” You hear him scoff. “You really think a guy that went to an all boys school would find a girlfriend?” You shrug, standing beside him. “I thought it was common for all boys and all girls schools to collaborate or host events together.”

“I don’t know if there were any collaborating events. I always skipped. Speaking of skipping, would you like to join me on a trip to Burger King instead of going to fifth and sixth?” You shouldn’t be surprised he’s skipping classes. He always joked about doing so in elementary, yet it never crossed your mind to contemplate if he was actually going to do so. “Unlike you, I actually care about my grades. You can come over if you’d like.”

“After years you still expect me to know the address?” He jokes. “I haven’t moved. I’ll text you.” You pull out your phone, opening your contacts app and letting him type in his number. He set his contact name as ‘C’, with a cigarette emoji next to it. “If you ever call me and that name pops up on my phone while I’m with my dad, he is going to kill me. Thinking I have a dealer or something.”

“Well, if you need anything, you know where to find me.”

You text him the address, not seeing him for the rest of the school day. He frequently skipped classes, except for the classes you two had together. He came over many times, your dad eventually meeting him when he wasn’t rushing out the door for work.

Only… one particular visit caused something to happen with reasons unknown.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

You open the window, lighting some scented candles you found in the closet. Connor looked at his joint, inspecting it carefully, instead tossing it somewhere in his bag rather than lighting it, laying face up on your bed with a sigh.

The first time he was in your room, the first thing he asked was:

“Why the fuck is there sheet music everywhere?”

Which surprised you at first, mostly because you didn’t think he’d know what it was in the first place. He’d always smoke, mostly out the window, and you’d drench your room in air freshener afterwards so your dad wouldn’t know.

Connor was a very touchy person, especially when he was high. Sometimes he’d rest his head on your shoulder, his breath smelling of weed. Or on your lap, where his hair sometimes got trapped between your thighs. A hand on your leg, or on your thigh. You didn’t think of it at first, because it was Connor.

Though he took touchy to an extreme one day.

“Have you kissed anyone yet? Y’know, while I haven’t seen you.” You look up at him from your paper, amused. “Why are you asking?” He shakes his head, turning over and looking at you. “Oh, no, just wondering. So is that a no?” You sigh with a silent laugh. “No, I haven’t kissed anyone, Connor.”

“Really?”

“Mhm.”

“So you’re a virgin, then?”

“Connor, where is this coming from?”

“Do you know about the jocks constantly rambling about all the girls they have sex with?” He ignores your question with another question. “Yeah. It’s fucking annoying.” You scoff with a breathy laugh, taking a sip from your bottle. “You know they talk about you, right?”

You nearly spit out your water, saving the drops that fall from your mouth from falling onto your shorts. “Excuse me?” You say after swallowing. “Yeah. It’s all, ‘Bet 10 bucks I can bang her’ while they point at you. Or they go, ‘Jesus, wonder how much she can take’.”

“So I’m being objectified?” He nods slowly, looking up at you through his messy hair. “Unfortunately, yes. Want me to do something?”

“If it results in you getting suspended, no.”

“You sure? Those guys are dicks.”

“They’ll never believe us without any proof. And your reputation is bad enough already. I don’t want you to fall any more because of me.”

“Y/N, I’ll do anything for you.”

Those words make you pause and reflect. Was he high? No, because he tossed his joint in his bag anywhere. Even then, Connor would never say that for anyone. It seemed so out of character for him that you almost laughed.

“Are you high?”

“What?”

“I know damn well you wouldn’t do anything for anyone.”

“Y/N, I’m serious.” His gaze is stern, dark, and hard but also eager, glossy and hopeful. “I don’t know, maybe it is the weed I smoked twelve hours ago, but you’re really pretty. Sometimes I wonder how I managed to become friends with someone like you.”

“Someone like me?”

“Someone so pretty that doesn’t give a fuck about the fact I do drugs or the shit I’m dealing with. I really like you, Y/N. Always have. You didn’t single me out, you never left my side— you’re the one person in my fucked up life that makes me feel like I belong. That I matter.” Your childhood best friend, who’s now sitting up with a hand on your thigh, just confessed his undying love to you.

And you had to admit, the more you two started to hang out and reconnect, the more you started to develop something of an attraction to him. He never smiled at anyone but you, he didn’t push you away or glare at you; it was like he had a soft spot just for you, and it made you like him even more.

“I hope you aren’t gonna fuck me over. Y’know, if you don’t like me back.” His finger traces patterns on your thigh, the way his hand unknowingly rides up making your brain go haywire. “I’m… I, uh– I’m not.” He looks at you, for some reason, disappointed. “Should’ve known you didn’t. Forget this ever happened, then.”

“No, no! I like you! I really do like you, Connor. You’re charming and handsome and…” You hear him huff out a laugh, his face closing in on yours. “I know no one else thinks of me like that but you. You’re obsessed with me.”

“Could say the same for you, Murphy.”

His head tilts, his nose touching yours. “Wanna kiss you.” He mutters. You simply nod, inviting. “Okay.” You reply. He presses his lips to yours, feeling full and complete the moment you two meet. He can sense your confusion at first, but you managed to learn how to move with him quickly. Perks of being a fast learner.

He hovers on top of you on your bed, admiring you when he pulls away. His eyes shamelessly trail down from your face, to your chest, your stomach, your legs, his face cupped in your hands and pulling him towards you to kiss him again.

His tongue slipped into your mouth, the mood instantly erotic.

His hands are all over you. The back of your head, your shoulders, your waist, your hips, your thighs; he placed them wherever he could push you closer to him. When his mouth follows his hands to descend to your neck, you let out a soft whimper, panicking when you barely catch sight of the door.

“W-Wait.” You pant, nudging Connor for him to move to the side. You scramble off your bed, closing the window and the curtain and turning off the lights, going for the doorknob. “Thought you said your dad wasn’t home.” Connor says as you lock the door. “Never know when he will be.”

When you join him on the bed, his hands at the hem of your shirt, you stop him with a touch on his wrist. “Um, I don’t…”

“Oh, shit, did I go too far? I’m sorry–“

“No, no! I want it, I really do, but… you know...” He realized how nervous you were, remembering you haven’t done anything like this before. He gives you a gentle kiss on your forehead, tucking your hair behind your ear. “You know I have. You trust me?” He asks, giving you doe eyes you’ve never seen before. You nod, emitting a chuckle from him. “Let me take care of you then.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Sex was one thing. Having sex with your best friend is another.

It’s either your dad stayed at work all night or he’s in grave danger, given you haven’t heard him scream out of pure horror, then yell at you first thing in the morning. You woke up unbothered, naked, and held by your best friend. Unless this whole thing changed your relationship.

Were you even friends anymore? Was this a friends with benefits thing now? But he practically confessed to you yesterday, unless he was high. But he didn’t smoke anything, and the room doesn’t smell that bad…

One thing is for sure: Connor Murphy knows how to fuck.

Maybe it was the fact that you were a complete virgin or that you did whatever he asked you to, but you swear you could still feel how you felt last night when he was in you.

Your head rests on his arm, wrapping around you and holding you close to him. The ends of his hair touch your own head, and you blow them out of the way. You can feel him move, and he groans, meaning you woke him up. You lean into him more, feeling his fingers lightly brush your side. You feel his head turn, his hair moving from your head.

“Hi.” He says, peering down at you. You look up at him, noticing his gaze. “Hi.”

He plants a kiss on your forehead, his fingers moving to brush through your hair. “I think I passed out after.” You say, hearing him chuckle. “You did. When I came back to clean up, you were nearly snoring.”

“Oh god, I snore?”

“Loudly.”

He notices you going silent, immediately worried. “I was just joking! Well, kind of, you snore, but not loudly. Not like a dad snore.” You giggle into the side of his arm, followed by a brief moment of silence. “What are we now?”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t think friends confess their undying love for each other and tie it off with sex.”

He pauses, hearing quiet hums come from his mouth. “Can I be your boyfriend, then?” He feels you nod against his arm while you hum in response. “Yeah.” You get out from under the covers, going to stand up until a brief pain shoots up your legs.

Memories of the night before suddenly come rushing in. “Fuck those jocks, I’m the only one who can see you like this.” He said, after making a mess of you with only his fingers.

He really fucked you good last night.

You curse under your breath, legs weak as you stare at the scattered clothes on the ground, tossing your own into the laundry basket by your door. You grab a new change, turning around and noticing Connor staring at you the whole time, an expression you can’t make out.

“I was that good? Your legs are shaking.” You roll your eyes and throw his shirt at him after putting on a pair of shorts. “Shut up. A real boyfriend would help me and not make fun of me.” He fake pouts, getting out of bed and putting on his own clothes.

You turn on the TV downstairs, the morning news playing and showing the date as Friday.

Friday.

Shit.

You’re beyond late.

“Turns out there was a gas leak so there’s no school. That works out great for us.” Connor says as if he could read your mind. You hear the garage door open, meaning your dad had just come home from work. He enters the room, seeing both of you standing by the kitchen counter.

“Shouldn’t you two be at school?” Is the first thing your dad says, eyeing both of you. “Cancelled. Gas leak.” You feel Connor’s hand rest at your hip, wanting to swat it away but knowing your dad already saw it just by the look on his face. “Did he use protection? I know you’re on those pills, but–“

“Oh my god, yes, he did, look– can we talk about this later?” Your dad shrugs and nods before heading for the stairs, hearing Connor laugh beside you. “How did he know?” You panic, placing toast on both your plates. “Maybe he saw your legs shaking from there.”

“Shut up.”

“Make me.”

You glare at him, giving him a brief kiss before bringing both your plates to the table. He quite literally does as you say, keeping quiet the entire time he eats his breakfast.

You should do that more often.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

You knew that Connor was a very mischievous person. He always has been.

He’d skip classes, casually threaten people as if it were nothing, smoke weed; he nearly flushed firecrackers down a toilet once. He didn’t go through with it because you told him not to.

He was also mischievous in terms of your relationship.

He let you leave hickeys wherever you saw fit, in places visible and invisible. You were more wary of it. He showed them off proudly; well, not really proudly, he just didn’t mind if people saw or stared at him with hanging jaws. He couldn’t be bothered to cover them— the only time he did care was when his family would point them out.

He’d sneak out and go to your place frequently; he always preferred your house over his, mostly because he felt like he had a parent he could actually tolerate (and love). If your dad were to ever barge in, he’d stare at Connor, then at you, then at Connor’s bag, and ask if he had protection before leaving and closing the door. Connor always said yes.

It was also a convenient reminder for you to lock your door anytime Connor was in your room, since most of the time nights would always end in sex.

You fumbled for your keys to unlock the front door, Connor’s lips on yours when you stumbled inside. You didn’t notice a bunch of men in the living room, including your dad, holding beer bottles and staring at you until you saw them out of the corner of your eye. “Welcome back. How was the party?” Your dad asks, as if he didn’t see the escapade between you and your boyfriend.

“It was shhh– It sucked. Yeah. It sucked. Hi.” You mutter the last part, eyes quickly dashing over everyone who’s attention is taken away from the game on the TV. “Um, we’re just gonna… yeah.” You drag Connor with you out of their sight and upstairs.

“Does he have–“

“Yes!”

You slam your door shut, locking it, seeing Connor visibly nervous. “What’s wrong? Are you okay? Was the party too much?”

“A little bit. And then… your dad’s friends just staring at us. I don’t know– anxiety? This is a stupid thing to be worried about.” You sit down next to him, hugging him while rubbing his back. “Don’t worry about them, okay? They’ve probably done the same when they were younger.”

You feel him sigh into your shoulder, his voice muffled.

“Thank you.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

don’t grow up too fast. don’t leave me in the past. as long as you never change who you are, i know in your heart i’m never far. 🎧

#connor murphy #connor murphy x reader #dear evan hansen #dear evan hansen musical #mike faist #fanfiction

289 notes · View notes

maccreadysbaby · 2 months

Text

A Hundred Ways to Become a Wayne

batfamily + oc insert

tw: mentions of death, anxiety attacks!

wanna read more? here’s the table of contents!

want to read the first fic in the hundred days series so you understand what’s going on here? here it is!

you GUYS this CHAPTER is a DOOZY. I’m so excited and also kind of jittery lmao. you wanted the secret keeper’s story? you got it fam

part twenty-eight

❝ THE TRUTH ❞

MONDAY — AUGUST 17 — 7:52PM

ON MINUTE ELEVEN, WHEN THE WHOLE CABIN WAS QUIET APART FROM THE STORM OUTSIDE, BENTLEY STEPPED TOWARD THE TRAPDOOR.

“No! Please don’t leave me up here by myself,” Nico begged, lurching forward and latching onto Bentley like some kind of leech. His fists were balled up in the left sleeve of the redhead’s jacket so hard his hands were shaking. (Or maybe they’d already been shaking, which was probable.)

Bentley met his big blue eyes, half hidden by his blonde hair, which were properly watering now. “It’ll be okay. We’ll be fast. You can come if you want.”

Nico sniffled even though his tears hadn’t fallen yet. “I want to go home.”

Bentley said nothing, but attempted a reassuring smile like Bruce always did. He, too, had nerves buzzing beneath his skin, threatening to vibrate him across the floor, but Asten was right; they couldn’t give up now. They’d come so far (literally.) and this might’ve been exactly what they were looking for. The key to taking down the Secret Keeper, to becoming a Wayne, to saving his family. So no matter how (not) scared, (not) anxious, and (not) desperate to go back to the Manor Bentley was, he was going to do it. He had to win.

“Guys…” Asten’s voice floated up from the dark abyss. Bentley could see the light from his flashlight go brighter and darker, like he was moving it around the room.

Bentley went for the stairwell, and, because Nico’s grip wasn’t letting up, he shuffled along behind him.

They took the dark stairs one step at a time. Bentley heard Nico gasp every time a piece of wood groaned under their weight. There was no telling what was down there — what Asten was seeing. There could’ve been people tied up. The newly missing citizens whose bodies hadn’t been found yet, or people that were… dead. There could’ve been dead bodies down there.

Bentley swallowed thickly, his heart whamming in his ribcage as they neared the bottom of the dimly illuminated staircase. All he could really see were plywood walls and a concrete floor.

And then Asten came into view.

He was standing with his back toward them, completely still, his flashlight aimed right ahead. The basement was big — the parts Bentley could see, anyways — and he was pointing the light at the farthest wall; a concrete wall.

It was long, and seemed to be full of… square doors? At least two dozen, lined in two rows. It reminded Bentley of something Alfred had in the butler’s kitchen — tall metal fridges with a bunch of square doors. But these weren’t those, these were made into the wall. Each door had a sticker on the front, some green, some yellow, and some red, but Bentley couldn’t read them from where they stood.

“Ah merda,” Asten muttered under his breath. Nico made a strange little squeak, and while Bentley couldn’t quite see him in the dark, he thought he felt what may have been his forehead land against the back of his shoulder.

He was obviously missing something wrong. What was it?

“What is that?” Bentley whispered, hardly audible. Asten opened and closed his mouth a few times, eyes not leaving the doors.

“It’s a morgue,”

Bentley said nothing. What was a morgue?

Asten cleared his throat, not looking back at them. “You… know what that is, ginger?”

“No…” Bentley muttered. Nico was crying. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know what a morgue was.

Asten ran a hand over his blue hair. “It’s where they put people. After they… die. Morgues are… only supposed to be in hospitals.”

Bentley took a deep breath, his brown eyes bouncing across all of the metal doors. There were dead people in there?

They were in the room with a bunch of dead people?

Bentley fought away the slight vertigo that threatened to take over as he stared at the doors. Tons of them. Dozens of them. With dead people inside.

In an attempt to distract himself in absolutely any way possible, he kept looking around the room. He couldn’t see much from the flashlight’s beam, but he did catch a pile of boxes to the left, and a large desk with a computer monitor to the right.

He felt Nico’s grip leave his arm, and the telltale rattle-rattle-rattle-hiss-hiss of his inhaler came from over Bentley’s left shoulder.

They were in a basement full of dead people.

Bentley’s mind was only brought back to him when Asten dared to step closer to the doors, shining the flashlight on the closest door’s red sticker.

The words came into focus for Bentley in the light — OLIVIA WRIGHT, THE VOID.

Bentley blinked. He knew that name; both of them. Olivia Wright was a girl that went missing after seeing the Secret Keeper — presumed dead. The Void was a portal-shooting metahuman that the Wayne’s fought on patrol not too long ago.

Bentley heard Asten let out a puff of air, moving the beam of light to the door to the left, another red sticker. This one looked like someone had attempted to rip it off. Half of the words were missing, but the name THE SECRET KEEPER was still clearly visible.

The next sticker was green, with a yellow one haphazardly placed on top. Bentley stayed rooted to the concrete floor as Asten carefully peeled the yellow one up to read the green one.

DAVIS HENDERSON, THE REAPER.

Bentley breathed out. Davis Henderson. The waiter from the bar.

The yellow sticker on top only said one word: COMPROMISED.

Asten moved to the next one, a red sticker with a yellow one beside it.

TITUS LANCASTER, PATHFINDER, the red one said. COMPROMISED, replied the yellow.

Titus Lancaster — the twelve-year-old boy who went missing. Whose parents…

Bentley took a breath, blinking a few times to steel himself.

The next sticker was green. AMANDA TODRYK, THE RAVEN.

Asten froze there.

Bentley’s own thoughts seemed to startle him enough to make him flinch. It was her. It was Mandy Todryk — they’d found her. They’d actually, legitimately found her.

It didn’t feel near as good as he thought it would.

Asten grabbed the handle.

“What are you doing?! Don’t you dare!” Nico ordered in a violent whisper muffled by his crying, brushing past Bentley’s shoulder toward their friend. “Are you insane? Are you insane?! We have to go, we have to call the police!”

Asten’s hand just hovered there. He was staring intently at the door, and Bentley couldn’t see much of his face, but he could imagine his signature stormy eyes.

“Asten!” Nico pleaded. Like his near-shout was a pulse of adrenaline, Asten jerked on the handle, and the door popped open.

All three of them froze.

The square hole was deep, almost the size of a coffin, and vapor billowed out when the door was opened like it was refrigerated. Laying in that coffin-like-hole, the top of her head facing them, was Amanda Todryk. Amanda Todryk. She was staring at the ceiling of the box she was in, her light eyes unseeing, her skin whiter than a ghost and lips a ghastly blue.

Bentley’s hand found his mouth before he told it to. It was really cold in there. Asten didn’t make a sound other than a slow exhale, his green eyes focused, frozen.

Amanda Todryk was dead. They were staring at her body.

Bentley felt like he was going to pass out.

His mind — God, he couldn’t focus, he couldn’t focus on anything — drifted and wandered and only floated back when Nico turned on a dime, took maybe a half step toward him, and threw up all over the floor.

Bentley couldn’t move. Not when the quiet thunk of Asten closing the door came, not when Nico sat down in the concrete and started well-and-truly sobbing. Bentley felt like he’d swallowed a bee hive. Like he was vibrating into numbness, like he was in some dark, cold place and he couldn’t see. Couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t hear anything.

He wanted to go home.

A few more clicks and thunks came from the wall. Some distant part of Bentley’s mind told him that meant Asten was opening and closing the other doors.

A blur of time passed. Asten was at the computer — when had he walked over there?

For a while, the only occasional sounds in the basement were Asten typing, and periodic rattling from Nico’s inhaler.

They’d broken into a house and found a dead body. They’d broken into a house and found a dead body. They’d broken into a house and found a dead body.

“Ginger, come look at this,” Asten ordered. Bentley’s legs numbly carried him over to the desk without much thought — he wasn’t thinking very well anyhow. He wanted to go home.

There was a folder of videos pulled up on the screen. Each one had a different title, starting at SUBJECT ONE and ending at SUBJECT SEVENTY-NINE.

Asten clicked on subject one.

The video began to play, and a sterile white lab appeared on the screen. The only thing in the frame besides the floor, wall, and ceiling, was a large, white machine that stood probably two Bentleys tall. A conglomerate of machinery sat on top of it, as well as a button panel to the side covered with multicolored, glowing buttons.

“This is Dr. A. R. Keene. The date is March twenty-ninth, year two of the genome sequencing study. This is video number B101,” Their teacher’s voice came through the screen, though they couldn’t see him. “The Synchronizer, after it's year-long trial phase, is in complete working order. Now, the human testing will begin.”

The camera angle moved slightly as though the device had been bumped, and someone chuckled behind the camera.

“Charlie has ever-so-willingly offered herself up as test Subject One,” Said Dr. Keene, sounding a little exasperated.

A gasp came from off camera, and then a female voice chimed: “C’mon, dad! I can’t let you rise to scientific fame without me! And why are you sounding so proper? You said these recordings are just for you.”

Bentley blinked when a girl came into the frame — young, probably around Jason’s age. She had shoulder-length dirty blonde hair and large, piercing blue eyes. She crouched down in front of the camera and crossed her eyes, sticking her tongue out with an audible blegh noise. She was wearing a royal purple dress that, oddly enough, Bentley thought Steph owned, too.

“They’re also for my boss. He wants complete reassurance that the process is safe for his son. That’s quite enough, Charlie,” Dr. Keene sighed, and she stopped making faces and rolled her eyes instead. “Recent blood and DNA work goes to show that Charlie does not have the genetic mutation which turns common people into, what the press call, metahumans.”

The screen of a tablet appeared on the monitor when someone (supposedly Dr. Keene) held it there, full of charts and notes Bentley couldn’t really read. It disappeared just as fast.

Charlie sighed, glancing down at her nails. “Blah, blah, blah, science, science, science. Can we do this thing now?”

Dr. Keene sighed, and a few sounds came from behind the camera. “The internal Neuron Amplification System has been implemented inside the Subject for seventy-two hours. She’s reported minimal pain, and responds immediately to orders. The Subject has no memory of actions taken when the NeuroAmp is active.”

“I forgot to tell you, I woke up sore yesterday from all the hurdles you made me run. Maybe you can mind control me to go workout. Then I won’t remember hating it!” Charlie chuckled. She leaned forward and began to twist at her blonde curls like she could see herself in the camera.

“It’s Neuron Amplification, Charlie, not mind control,” He deadpanned. Charlie flicked a hand toward the camera.

“You make me do whatever you want and I don’t remember it. Pretty sure that’s mind control,” She said with a sarcastic smile. “It’s fine; I trust you, dad. Just don’t read my mind.”

“I can’t read your mind,” He replied with a sigh. “Shall we begin?”

Charlie jumped to her feet, only her legs visible in the frame. “Heck yeah!”

Dr. Keene moved onto the screen. He looked normal — maybe a little younger? — and he was wearing a stark white lab coat that fell to his knees. There was a symbol on the back of the coat, small and subtle.

“That’s the symbol that was branded on the Secret Keeper’s head,” Asten whispered. Bentley watched in silence as Dr. Keene tapped buttons on the keypad next to the big machine. A loud whirring and beeping came, and the whole front of the machine was lifted up and out of the frame, revealing a yellow, padded interior shaped like a person. There were metal clamps on the wrists, ankles, and torso.

“Please enclose subject,” Came a robotic female voice.

Charlie hopped inside like she was excited to get in the thing. She lined up with the person shaped padding, and the metal clamps closed around her.

“The full DNA exchange process takes anywhere from half an hour to three hours, depending on the genetic makeup of the subject,” Dr. Keene continued to speak. “My guess is that Charlie’s will take more around the forty-five minute mark. I’ll continue the recording then.”

He pushed a few final buttons, and the machine closed around his daughter.

The video cut, and Dr. Keene’s face was suddenly right in the camera, his light eyes boring into their souls. “Charlie’s exchange is nearly complete. We’ll see how she reacts when she comes out, if the NeuroAmp still activates under her altered DNA, as well as testing if her newfound abilities come forth as predicted. In the future subjects, the NeuroAmp will be administered inside the Synchronizer,” He gestured to the machine.

“Exchange complete. Releasing subject,” Came the robotic voice again. Dr. Keene stood up and turned toward the Synchronizer, getting out of the way of the camera as it opened. What looked to be smoke plumed out of the opening, making it impossible for them to see Charlie.

And then she stumbled out.

Bentley inhaled sharply at the sight of her ever-familiar, stringy, platinum blonde hair. Charlie was breathing so hard he could hear it through the camera, and her eyes were squeezed shut so tightly it probably hurt.

“Charlie?” Dr. Keene questioned.

She snapped her eyes open, and Bentley gasped: “Oh my God.”

Her eyes were amber, and glowing.

Dr. Keene… had he.. he had turned his daughter into the Secret Keeper.

“Dad?” She blinked, looking around the room. “Did it work?”

“I’m activating your NeuroAmp now,” He replied. Bentley watched as Dr. Keene merely stared at Charlie for a solid five seconds, before she stilled and stared back. Another person came into view — a man in what looked to be a white janitor jumpsuit on the other end of the room.

“I can use verbal commands to activate the NeuroAmp, or simply think of the actions I wish for her to undertake. For example; kill him,” Dr. Keene ordered.

Without any hesitation or awareness, with a hauntingly blank expression on her face, Charlie — the Secret Keeper — turned to the janitor-looking man. She cocked her head slightly, and his eyes turned amber. Blood began to run out of his nose, then his ears, then his eyes, and he collapsed without a sound.

“Internal NeuroAmp is functioning at full capacity. Subject has lost all free will,” Dr. Keene recorded. “Transition from human to metahuman is complete and whole — no visible genetic mutations or diseases recorded. Metahuman abilities confirmed to act just as predicted. I will take a full blood and DNA panel.”

Charlie turned toward Dr. Keene and held out her arm without hesitation, like he was about to take her blood. “I will email you the panel results and new DNA makeup, Mister Whittaker. You were right — we’re having a breakthrough. As of our first full conversion, the metahuman DNA exchange seems safe for Bentley. More tests and subjects will be sent to you for further analysis. We will destroy Batman — I can assure you that.”

Bentley froze.

Mister Whittaker was the boss Dr. Keene was talking about?

Bentley’s father was the one who’d created the Secret Keeper? Who was turning normal people into metahumans?

He didn’t even realize he was falling over until Asten caught him firmly by the shoulders, ordering: “Nico! Get that chair!”

Nico must’ve been nearby, because Bentley was sitting in a chair he didn’t even know was down there what seemed to be a half-second later.

His dad had been the man behind the Secret Keeper.

He was never going to get away from him, was he?

Bentley could feel arms on him — small ones that looped around his neck from behind.

He only snapped back to reality when Dr. Keene’s voice came again: “This is Dr. A. R. Keene, video B1701, coming to report urgent findings — Subject Eighteen is reacting rather negatively to the DNA exchange.”

When Bentley worked up the willpower to look at the screen, there was a hospital bed sitting in the center of a solid white room, with a very small person laying it. They had black hair on their head and ghastly pale skin, but Bentley couldn’t pinpoint their face.

“Subject Eighteen’s body seems to be rejecting the newly transformed DNA. Symptoms include: fever up to a-hundred-and-five degrees, severe vomiting and abdominal pain, delirium, fatigue, vertigo, periodic loss of consciousness, severe sweating, and bouts of severe and intense pain described as burning,” Dr. Keene explained. “Titus Lancaster is our youngest subject, therefore we are getting our hands on a few younger than him to see if they share the same reaction. As for right now, we are keeping close tabs on his condition and caring for him as best we can. Sickness ensued as soon as he emerged from the Synchronizer, and has remained constant over the past ninety-six hours. His abilities have yet to be tested. His NeuroAmp is unresponsive in his current delirious and/or unconscious state.”

The screen went black, then a white wall with a large window appeared.

“This is Dr. A.R. Keene, video log B2301, regarding Subject Eighteen’s recent health issues — the sickness, after five days, seemed to resolve itself. Titus’s NeuroAmp is still unresponsive, so he’s scheduled for surgery to implant a new one on August twenty-ninth. As of now, since I am unable to control him, we have him in an enclosed space suitable for someone with his abilities. Titus, if you would, make yourself visible to the camera,”

After a few moments of silence, Titus Lancaster appeared out of thin air with a whoosh on the other side of the large window. A white hospital gown hung loosely on his small frame, starkly contrasting his deep, nearly black hair. He had large, gray eyes that were bloodshot, and his face was lined with tear-streaks. Where had he come from?

“Please — perform your abilities so Dr. Whittaker can witness them,”

Titus looked straight into the camera through the glass that was keeping him enclosed. Directly into it, like he was staring into Bentley’s very soul. ‘Please help me.’ He mouthed.

“None of that, boy. Do as I say or you’ll be punished,”

On command, there was a whoosh and a blur of color, and Titus appeared a few feet away from his previous spot. Then again, a whoosh, and he was back where he’d started.

“As you can see, he has the ability to teleport anywhere in the world, so long as he’s seen it before. We have him enclosed in a box of electromagnetic pulses that he can’t travel through until we get his NeuroAmp implanted,” Dr. Keene explained from off-screen. “We’re keeping a close eye on his health and wellness. As of now, he is the fastest Metahuman to grasp their abilities. Besides Charlie. Other young children have undergone the exchange without health issues, so we aren’t quite sure what caused his sickness. Thank you, Titus,” Dr. Keene said, and the boy whooshed out of sight. “Bless him; he prefers to stay in the rafters of his enclosure like some kind of bird at the zoo.”

The video ended.

Asten moved the cursor around and clicked on one of the videos at the bottom. The screen came up, and the camera was pointing at the floor and shaking so badly Bentley couldn’t even tell what was happening — like someone was running with it.

“This is Dr. A.R. Keene, video log B5301. This is regarding Subject Seventy-One- no! Don’t go back until Charlie gets here!” There was a muffled shout in the background, but the camera kept shaking. “Subject Seventy-One suffered extreme emotional trauma by seeing another subject he once knew — his NeuroAmp is unresponsive to me, and his abilities have grown dangerous and deadly. He’s killed at least twenty-five…”

There was muffled running footsteps. “He is attempting to escape the facility. Charlie! I need you to knock Davis out, cold, and keep him down until I can fix his NeuroAmp.”

Davis. The waiter.

“Yes, father,”

“Abilities seem to grow more powerful, volatile in the presence of extreme emotional stress. This is common knowledge, as a natural metahuman’s powers typically surface under extreme circumstances. Davis holds the power of death — he can kill anything living just by touching it! But-but under such stress, death seems to radiate from him like a slow-moving shockwave. People who can’t even see him are dying rooms away as his radius of death gets bigger. I… I’ll send you more tests with severe emotional stimuli with other Subjects who aren’t quite so deadly!”

The video ended, and Asten navigated to another one.

“This is Dr. A.R. Keene, video log B8601,” Their teacher was actually in the camera this time, sitting ahead of a solid white wall, the camera trained on his face. “Regarding Subject Seventy-Nine, Amanda Todryk. My initial DNA scans revealed that she already had the genetic makeup of a metahuman whose powers hadn’t surfaced yet. I would typically dispose of her, because I avoid messing with the DNA of already established metahumans, but I put her in the Synchronizer just for research's sake.”

He looked down, like he had a clipboard or tablet in his hand. “And she responded very pleasantly to the DNA exchange. It didn’t destroy her former DNA like I thought, but actually fused itself into it. The synchronizer endowed her with the abilities I chose for her — the ability to fly — and after the fact, I had Charlie work her magic in Amanda’s mind; traumatize her enough to awaken her natural metahuman powers. Funny enough, they’re the most cliche superpowers of this age — the ability to commune with animals. Now, Amanda is in good health, her NeuroAmp is working, and she has two fully functional abilities. The ability to fly, and commune with animals. She lives in an enclosure with a flock of Ravens.”

Dr. Keene tapped a few times on the tablet they couldn’t see. “Since she’s so stable, I’m sending her to the cryogenic waiting facility on the outskirts of Somerset to await release. You know the address.”

Cryogenic? Cryogenic meant… freezing stuff, didn’t it? Was Mandy just frozen? Not dead?

“Give me the word when you want me to release her into Gotham and I’ll let her out. I use-“

The video was suddenly drowned out by a wham! that came from upstairs. Asten’s hand flew up and closed all the tabs on the computer, flicking the power button.

Someone was upstairs. Upstairs where the cabin was a wreck. Upstairs where the rug was moved and the trapdoor was standing wide open.

Asten hardly looked at Bentley and Nico before he had ahold of each of their wrists, pulling them across the room. “Don’t make a sound,” He whispered almost inaudibly, so quiet Bentley didn’t even know how he’d done it.

Bentley obeyed. There wasn’t much he could do, anyways. His mind was nothing more than panic and sadness and fear and anger and rage and terror all mixed together in a loud static that made him feel… nothing. Empty. There were so many things floating around in his head — Charlie, Dr. Keene turning normal people into metahumans, Davis, Titus, Bruce. It was so much that he couldn’t focus.

Asten pulled one of the fridges with a red sticker open, and Nico flinched away harshly — but much to Bentley’s surprise, there was no body inside. “Get in. Now.”

Footsteps thudded around the cabin above them, dust falling from the hardwood and settling on the concrete floor.

Nico, terrified, climbed in, and Asten shut the door. Then he opened another one with a red sticker — empty. Maybe that’s what red meant.

Bentley climbed in without hesitation. It was cold — the concrete box. Really cold. It went pitch black when Asten closed the door with a thump.

And he sat.

He couldn’t hear anything very good anymore, but he thought he might’ve heard footsteps. He wasn’t sure. He couldn’t tell. He couldn’t focus, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. His hands — no, his whole body was trembling but he couldn’t make it stop. It wasn’t from the cold. Colors were swirling in his vision even though all he could see was black, and if felt like someone was tying something around his throat — like he was going to choke and die.

He wanted to go home so bad. Why couldn’t they just live normally? Why was his father, Dr. Keene… why were they doing this?

His heartbeat sounded like a gong in his ears. His lungs seemed to be spasming for air, but he forced them with every bit of willpower left in his whole body to stop so he wouldn’t wheeze, so he wouldn’t give himself away. Everything just needed to stop. It all needed to stop. How was he supposed to make it all stop when it was spinning so fast he couldn’t see?

He heard someone thump thump thump down the steps.

He could hardly make out the difference between their footsteps and his own heartbeat. It sounded like explosions in his ears, in his head, boom, boom, boom, deafening to everything else. He pulled his knees up close to his shaking body, wrapping his arms around himself, too. Something icy streaked across his face, and that’s when he realized he was crying.

God, he wanted Bruce. This was a terrible, terrible idea, and now they were going to die from it. They were literally going to die and Bruce would have no clue where or when or how or why until Bentley was nothing more than a memory.

There was a slam.

They were going to die.

Bentley didn’t dare let himself move, not an inch, until the door to the box was whipped open again.

“C’mon, Bentley. We’ve gotta go,” Asten’s voice was near his head, and suddenly he was being touched, tugged. He forced himself out of the box, and as soon as his feet hit the floor, he fell.

“Hey! Whoa, whoa, whoa, hey,”

Bentley hardly noticed the strange maneuver Asten had to do to keep him from hitting the floor. He was on his knees, being held up by a pair of arms that were around him but were definitely not his own.

“Hey, buddy,” Asten patted him on the back firmly, but he barely felt it. He barely felt anything besides his own trembling and the sobs tearing their way out of him. (It wasn’t helping that Nico was standing to their left, absolutely crying his eyeballs out, too.) “I know this sh- this stuff is scary, but you have to stay with me so we can get out. Please breathe.”

It was pitch black in the basement apart from the flashlight that was laying on the floor — where Asten had dropped it to catch him, he assumed. There was no light streaming from upstairs, which meant the trapdoor was closed.

Asten stood up, dragging Bentley with him. “Can you run?”

Running, right now, was the last thing Bentley felt like he could do. But it was also the only thing he could do to save his own life.

He nodded jerkily.

Asten grabbed their flashlight and turned to the staircase, creeping back up the stairs with his bag and light in hand.

Bentley glanced over at Nico, whose right hand seemed glued over his mouth. His face was flushed red and he sounded more like he was choking than actually crying.

“C’mon, guys! He’s out back, I can see the beam of his flashlight!” Asten ordered. Both Nico and Bentley, both varying degrees of numb, pushed themselves forward.

Bentley couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t breathe when Asten shoved them up the stairs, couldn’t breathe when they ran as fast as they could out the front door, couldn’t breathe when they bee-lined for the woods instead of the road they’d come down.

They were going to die.

“Bentley. Bentley, c’mon dude. Breathe. We gotta go,”

Bentley was trying to breathe, but he couldn’t. The air he managed to suck in was coming out as nothing more than painful wheezes, and his heart felt like it was going to rip his chest open. They were in the middle of a forest on the outskirts of Somerset, and not a single Wayne knew about it. The only sounds that came to his muffled ears were the crunching of leaves and the clinking of the crowbar against other tools in Asten’s toolbelt. Everything was a blur of black and dark and he could hardly see.

Nico was lagging behind, crying too hard to run properly. That was fine, because Bentley’s inability to breathe was making him pretty slow, too.

“He’s freaking coming, you guys,” Asten whispered anxiously, whirling around and trying his best to keep the panic off of his face, for the sake of his younger friends. The crowbar hanging on his belt nearly hit Bentley in the stomach with the speed he pivoted. But Bentley was too focused on trying to get air into his lungs through his wheezy sobs and splutters to see Asten’s green eyes flick nervously between the two of them.

“Jesus…” He muttered, and Bentley felt Asten’s hand land on the side of his head. “Are you having a panic attack?”

Bentley was pretty sure he absolutely was.

He wasn’t able to respond between the ragged breaths and cries that were forcing their way out of him, so he didn’t.

“Nico, can you-“

“I’m getting it!” The blonde exclaimed through sniffles and sobs of his own. He dug around in the pocket of his blue jacket, and Bentley heard the telltale shake of his inhaler right before the hiss of the medicine being released a couple times.

“Here,”

Bentley saw the quick exchange of the inhaler from hand to hand, and Asten started shaking it, leaning down farther so he could see Bentley’s face. His hand had moved from his head to his shoulder and stayed firmly there.

“You gotta breathe deep when I shove this thing in your mouth, Whittaker. It’ll help you breathe,”

Bentley nodded quickly, and Asten promptly put the inhaler in his mouth and pressed on it. He sucked in about as much air as he could force into his rebelling lungs.

“Perfect, just do it one more time,” Asten stated, moving his hand from Bentley’s shoulder to the back of his neck to keep his head in place. “Nico, you see anyone?”

“No,” He whimpered, his voice obstructed by his near endless crying. Asten pressed on the inhaler again, and Bentley made himself suck in what felt like a gallon of air. (It wasn’t actually that much air at all.) The medicine made him feel kind of woozy for a moment.

Asten kept his hand on Bentley, but stood up straighter and looked around the woods, behind them at the cabin they’d come out of. “We have to go. You think you can run? I will not hesitate to give you the most terrifying piggyback of your life.”

Bentley forced a few more breaths in and out, and while the inhaler wasn’t making his stomach stop cramping or his panic fade, he wasn’t gasping for air so much anymore.

Nico squeaked, a high noise in the back of his throat, and jerked on the sleeve of Asten’s jacket and choked on a few more sobs. “I see him coming.”

Bentley turned back, and the unmistakable ray of light coming from a flashlight not that far behind them made him want to curl up and die.

“Run, go,” Asten ordered, ushering Nico out in front of him. “You got it, Bentley?”

“I got it,” He murmured. Running from Somerset to Crime Alley probably wasn’t ideal for someone still in the midst of an anxiety attack, but he didn’t really have a choice at this point. Asten shoved Nico’s inhaler in Bentley’s jacket pocket, and they started running.

The cracking and crunching of leaves under their feet was nearly deafening in the pitch black, vacant forest, and the dim light from the moon and stars were their only source of vision, as Asten’s flashlight had been abandoned when Bentley wasn't paying attention. Asten stayed in the back, behind them like some kind of bodyguard.

Bentley was so focused on not falling and not throwing up and not hyperventilating that he shouted in fear when there was a loud metal CHINK! and Asten screamed.

Like actually screamed. Bentley hadn’t heard a sound like that since he’d been poisoned, and definitely not from Asten. It sent both him and Nico pivoting backwards instantly.

Asten was on his hands and knees in the leaves and dirt, heaving for shaky breaths, and there was a bear trap on his right leg.

There was a bear trap on his right leg.

“Oh my God!” Nico shouted, dropping to his knees next to him. Bentley stood in a mixture of shock and terror before Asten forced out the words:

“Get it off,”

He wasn’t crying, but he was batting tears out of his eyes. How was he not crying? How was he so okay? Bentley dropped down into the dirt on the other side of him, fighting to keep himself present.

Even in the dim light, Bentley could see the blood soaking through the leg of his pants. A lot of blood. And Asten was trembling, so Bentley put a hand on his side to give some kind of support. He had no idea how to remove a bear trap.

“These are freaking illegal-“ Nico was muttering (and still crying, now harder than he had been.) as he examined the trap, trying to figure out any way to get it off.

And there were footsteps coming. Bentley had only just heard them, glancing up, and he could see the beam of a flashlight panning through the forest.

“Oh my God, oh my God,” Nico murmured, bringing one hand up to his mouth and sobbing into it.

“Just…” Asten cursed under his breath, leaning into Bentley slightly. “Just take it out of the ground, and… and we’ll get it off later.”

“You’re going to drag a bear trap on your foot where? Onto a bus? A taxi maybe?!” Nico squeaked. Asten reached for his toolbelt and pulled out the crowbar, holding it out to Bentley. The footsteps and flashlight beam were getting closer, and they wouldn’t be able to get away in time.

“Bentley,” Asten said seriously, grabbing his shoulder with one hand and attempting to hide a grimace of pain. Bentley looked down at the long, cool piece of metal he put in his hands. Wasn’t getting beaten by a crowbar how Jason died all those years ago?

He didn’t have much time to think about it, because the footsteps were getting closer, and they weren’t going anywhere.

Asten was hit by a wave of trembling, and he squeezed Bentley’s shoulder. “When he gets here, beat the hell out of him.”

Bentley looked back at the flashlight in the woods. Nico was crying hysterically, hands hovering and gently touching the bear trap.

“Hey!” A voice came — Dr. Keene’s voice. A voice that would’ve been reassuring if Bentley’s life was normal. “Don’t move!”

He held tight to the crowbar, bringing it up in front of him, ready to swing. He’d never hit anybody like that before. What if he wasn’t strong enough?

Something thudded and bounced on the ground next to Asten. They all looked at it.

Was that a grenade?

The world went white.

—

dedicated to @sassenashsworld 💚

—

tag list! (If you want me to remove or add you, ask in comments!)

@fleur-alise @sarcopterygiian @cademygod @skylathescholar @gayboss-too-close-to-the-sun

30 notes · View notes

idkwhatimdoingtf · 1 month

Text

TMNT Stuff!!!!

BASICALLYYYY i made an AU off of someone else's AU lmao, @idiot-mushroom Teenage Turtle Ninja Mutants AU to be exact! (GO CHECK IT OUT its soo supa dupa cool and fun and lovingly drawn!!!!) *read more so i dont clog up ppl's dash :]]*

Its unoriginal ik but i got inspired and it'll become its own thing pretty quickly. Imma call it... Teenage Ninja Turtle Yokai AU!! its a 'What If Draxum Took All The Turtles!' Again, not the NEWEST thing but imma do it anyway!!! Too shy to show art js yet so take these facts!!

DRAXUM-He/Him-Gay-37

•Kinder and nicer than Canon+TTNM Draxum :] (not that TTNM Drax is bad, TNTY is js WAYYY more protective+overbearing)

•Does NOT let them go outside the Hidden City, told them places beyond the City dont exist

•Talks to Big Mama more, she babysits when Draxy-poo has work to do :]] (btdubs she's the best babysitter+gramma forever and EVER!!)

•Doesnt talk abt Splinter/Yoshi AT ALL. When the turts ask abt him (cuz Drax put up pics of him and Yoshi while still human) he js calls him "Someone I Miss.."

•Still loves Yoshi lots, sometimes he caves and sneaks to NYC to try and visit but he can never seem to find him..

•Trains the turtles the moment their powers start to show, so they can control them WAYYY better now xp

HOKUSAI (aka Leonardo)-He/Him-Gay-15

•No real leaders of the group, so he has no role besides being a good bro X]

•Hangs w/his friends a lot, usually out of the house

•Wants to explore soooo bad, 3rd to truly believe there's more beyond the Hidden City

•Not rlly a bully but makes lil pranks+teases his bros lots XP

•Trains his power w/Chiho lots, rlly dedicated to it

•Will throw his life on the line for his fam, maybe not SACRIFICE but get a good hit

•Tends to break the rules a bit, usually comes home to a lecture ready and waiting for him from Draxum lol

CHIHO (aka Raphael)-She/He-Queer-16

•Listens to Drax lots, not too big on rule breaking

•Big ol sweetipie, gives the best hugs trust🙏🏽

•Trains her power the most due to it being seen as harmful in his eyes (she hates to hurt accidently ppl (ुŏ̥̥ŏ̥̥) )

•WILL in fact stop the others from sneaking out (atleast not w/o him-) but Hokusai is js a bit too slick for her tastes... (they'll spar abt it l8r)

•Loves his home and his fam, doesnt rlly want anything more.. thinks abt it tho, js a little.. 4th/last to believe there's more beyond the city

•Used to put lil plushies or marshmellows on her shell in order to not scratch nobody or her bros, only rlly does that when going out now

YAYOI (aka Michealangelo)-Any prns-Queer-13

•Loves roam around and spraypaint the walls of the Hidden City

•Usually goes out w/Hokusai if not messing around w/a new hobby they discovered

•WILL treat his fam like royalty when upset (physically or mentally), this boy will bake up a STORM for his ppl💪🏽💯🥶

•Loves Drax lots, rlly looks up to and trusts him (∩_∩)

•Goes under the alias 'c0w@bUNg@' on social media (which is ran by Takashi)

•Loves meeting new ppl and making bonds

•1st to believe there's more beyond the City, truly rlly wants to leave and see for herself

•Uses its powers for everything but fighting lmao, will make a swing outta chains

TAKASHI (aka Donnatello)-They/Them-Bisexual-15

•Knows a bunch of yokai and Hidden City history you'd think they were there for it all

•Relies on tech to make bonds, thinks no1 will like em if they're js a turtle kid☹️😔

•2nd closest to Drax due to similarity in work (Alchemy/Science+Inventing/Tech. Also Yayoi is the closest to Drax)

•Only rlly goes out for materials to build, after that they are in DESPERATE need to touch grass😞

•Has a bunch of anime related stuff Drax would bring for them (every1 gets human gifts but Takashi has the most due to watching+observing human life most and being more interested in humans than other places)

•Knows humans exist, js not where, this leads them to being the 2nd to believe there's more beyond the Hidden City. Claims its cuz "nO tHeOrIeS cAn Be LeFt UnQuEsTiOnEd!🤓👆🏽" but we all know its cuz they wanna get more 'Mob Psycho 100' merch

And thats abt it!!! I'll prolly add to this and make more for the other characters but other than that, this is all i got rn! Hope this AU does good and you all enjoy it!! Again please check out @idiot-mushroom for his TMNT AU that heavily inspired this one (๑•ᴗ•๑)♡ love ya, bye!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

#lgbtqia #blahblahblah #Also please look up the names i used i think they're pretty interesting :]]#CHECK OUT idiot-mushroom's TMNT AU PLEASE!! Their artstyle is soo pretty and they have great story telling! Ｏ(≧∇≦)Ｏ #No this is not finna be a TMNT blog i alr wrote on the sign imma hop thru hyperfixtations a LOT #Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles

11 notes · View notes

nickfowlerrr · 2 years

Note

🦋 “When will you be mine” w/ Steve Kemp🥰

when will you be mine

continuation

pairing: steve kemp x reader (do i need to tag him as dark or is that just already implied seeing as how he’s a serial killer? 💀)

words: 1k

notes: i know i said short little blurb but my fingers wouldn’t stop typing lmao. also i didn’t mean for this to be so “YOU” ish but oh well 🥲 this is my first time writing for steve kemp so i’m still trying to find him in my writing - we’ll get there eventually 🥴 anyway! thank you for sending this in!! 💙

“You again,” the familiar voice jested, causing you to turn around and eye him.

“Hey, that’s my line,” you retorted with a small smirk. “Back so soon, Mr. Kemp?” you lilted teasingly.

“For the thousandth time, it’s Steve. Please,” he begged, “please, just call me Steve.”

You smiled at his playful dramatics and nodded, conceding.

“Steve,” you corrected yourself, earning a smile from him in return. “Was there a problem with your drink?” you asked, worried.

“No,” he assured you. “I, uh, I actually just came back to ask you something..” he trailed off, sounding almost nervous.

“What’s up,” you prompted him to continue.

“You do catering, don’t you?”

His simple question caught you off guard, you weren’t expecting it with how fidgety he was being all of a sudden.

“Uhm, yeah. Yeah, I do,” you nodded.

“Great,” was all he said in response until you squinted at him, a small smile playing on your lips as you fought the urge to let your nervous laugh escape.

“I’m having a little get together next weekend. Just a few people, really small. But, uh, I’d love to have you cater, if you’re available. I haven’t stopped thinking about your cupcake since you let me taste it last week. The cupcake, you gave me - that cupcake, I mean. It was fantastic, I know I’ve told you before, but you’re a really great baker,” he babbled as he blushed at his poor word choice and obvious fumbling. You had to bite your lip to stop yourself from smiling so big. Even now he was adorable.

Steve was in your shop weekly if not daily getting a coffee and whatever food item you suggested to him any given visit. He was your favorite customer and you couldn’t help yourself from developing a bit of a crush on the guy. He was gorgeous, funny, smart, so sweet, and charming as hell. You had made him a special cupcake for his birthday last week and since then, he’d been..just a little different when he came in. Almost shy, nervous, though he tried to hide it, it always showed through by the end of his visits. You were worried you had screwed things up with the cupcake, made him uncomfortable or something, but now you felt relieved knowing he really did like it.. And with how flustered he was getting, you thought maybe he really did like you, too.

You had no idea, but Steve was smitten with you the first day he walked into your bakery cafe.

He always had a lot on his plate, though. Never wanted to get you tangled up with his work. He didn’t see you like he saw others, he wasn’t interested in getting you to sell you. He wanted you all for himself.

But he didn’t push it. He couldn’t. He needed to wait for the right time. And he would, to make sure there was no chance of anyone or anything fucking things up for him, he’d wait for the perfect time to take you, to finally make you his. Seeing you as often as he did, talking, flirting, just being around you when he could, it was enough for him for the time being. At least it had been. Until last week. He walked into the cafe and when you saw him, the way your eyes lit up, it made his heart sing. You ran to the back and returned with a little green pastry box just as he approached the front of the line. You took over the register and gave him a soft smile.

“Happy birthday,” you offered, placing the box down in front of him. “I made you this. It’s red velvet..and your drink is on the house, too,” you added, batting your lashes at him, though he wasn’t sure you even realized you were doing so. It was adorable and he smiled back with a sincere and grateful ‘thank you’, shoving the cash he had to pay for his usual order into your tip jar when you turned back to get his drink before you walked down the counter with him to talk a bit before he would inevitably have to go to work. All day, he couldn’t stop thinking of you, couldn’t focus on much of anything.

You remembered his birthday and you made him a cupcake. A special cupcake just for him. He knew his feelings weren’t one sided, but your consideration and obvious care really showed him he was right. He decided that day, he couldn’t wait much longer. You belonged with him. He needed to be careful, now, though. He couldn’t get sloppy just because he had feelings for you, he needed to keep his patience. He just needed to get you out of town. His new home was almost finished and he couldn’t wait to get you there. It would be perfect. Just like you.

He didn’t want to be too confident, didn’t want to freak you out or scare you. So he’d play the part. Make sure you felt safe. Because you were, you had nothing to fear with him, he’d make sure of it.

You helped him schedule the catering, chose what pastries would travel best and picked one of your most popular flavors. You told him you’d be there right on time and it was going to be a rather small gathering, no more than ten people, if that, so you were the only one who needed to work it, it’d be easy. The “venue” was a bit of a ways away, but Steve insisted he’d cover your gas money, so you weren’t going to complain or argue. Plus, you really wanted to do this for him, you would have said yes no matter what. With the plans all set, Steve left looking more sure of himself than when he’d first asked about setting something up. You didn’t think anything of it and returned his smile and ‘see you later’.

Steve was thrilled. Everything was set and now he had a week to ensure everything was ready for you at his place. Just a week, he kept reminding himself. Just one more week and she’ll be mine.

part two

#asks #rubynationwins #bellasburdens one year celebration 💙#steve kemp x reader #steve kemp #steve kemp x you #steve kemp x y/n #soft!dark steve kemp #soft dark steve kemp #dark!steve kemp #dark steve kemp

367 notes · View notes

voxasks · 1 month

Note

🫐idk how to do this so i'm just gonna yap i have no clue what my personality type is but one of my favorite characters that i mildly related to was an INTJ 4w5 so i just took that and ran with it. uhh idk if i'm an introvert or extrovert it just depends on my mental state ig. i've been kinda tweekin recently so i'm loud in public like this dude one time caught me saying some of the most devious ahh shii known to man so i pointed at some random dude and blamed bro for saying it and then i sang the my little pony theme song but like 4 octaves higher. my friends hate me i also have no morals whatsoever so i'm cooked. the only reason why i'm not some bonkers dude on a documentary is because i'm a pathetic loser who doesn't actually go through with anything, i just lose interest or go 'nah this is way too much work' i'm a dude and 4'10" (idk lowkey my fault for not taking nutrition supplements when my doctor told me to) and idk what i like because i just have a hyperfixation and then i go batshit over it for several months (my longest hyperfixation was on a character for a year and i spent like 5k on merch of that character and now i highkey hate waking up to see the character's face literally everywhere) i dislike greasy foods with a burning passion, animals of all types (including insects) but actually i highkey used to like sharks but then they got popular online and agreeing with people on tiktok brings me physical pain. oh yeah i also dislike a lot of people online if they disagree with my opinion but depends on my mood because if i'm feeling mildly upset then i spam them with replies and tell them i love them and for them to have a good day but in the most toxic positive way possible and if i'm having a happy day then i do the same thing but i also slander everything i know about them for hobbies i love getting attention, positive or negative like honestly it's so fun. i go on social media a lot i'm pretty much just terminally online except i don't keep up w/ gossip majority of the time because i have no clue who celebrities are. oh yeah i love getting concern i never follow their advice or whatever all i do is make a joke about how pathetic my existence is and they rather don't care or they show concern and either way i get pissed so maybe i should stop with that lmao tbh whenever i read through the things i write i literally sound like those 'quirky >w<' 2020 gacha life ocs i feel like everyone with an ounce of humanity would realize i'm straight up embarrassing anyways ily have a good day!! take care of yourself :3333

“yeah i'm gonna be real fucking honest with you kid—halfway through your life story i genuinely forgot i was looking through my inbox and thought i was reading an article on a serial killer. you say you don't have morals but then you draw the line at greasy foods and tiktok? i mean alright sure but then you go on to bully other people on the internet over a bad mood? i'd say get a life but i'm pretty sure if you tried you would have dropped yourself on the head like you were as a kid. you sound like someone who has over ten restraining orders filed against them and they still have no clue as to why. well fuck that's ten minutes of my time i'm never taking back—you have me mourning over lost time when i'm a demon in literal fucking hell, congrats. let me guess, you'll probably celebrate by being a keyboard warrior in the comments of this post, like if junko enoshima was online. yeah, that's the energy this is giving.”

based off of the 200 follower event.

“🫐 — tell vox about yourself and he’ll give you his inner thoughts about you.”

#ooc : PLS IM SORRY NONNIE I DONT ACTUALLY THINK THESE OF YOU #.voxasks 200 event #VOX IS JUST VOXIN #vox hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel rp #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel roleplay #hazbin hotel ask blog #hazbin rp #hazbin hotel fandom #hazbin vox #hazbin hotel vox

9 notes · View notes

loracarol · 6 months

Text

For all that I love Les Misérables (the musical), I've only seen it once on stage; when the local high school was performing it, and I was in elementary school/early middle school. (I don't know why my Mum took us to see it, but some things definitely went over my head lmao.)

So my brother got my Mum and I tickets to see the US tour, and holy shit. Holy. Shit.

Some of the things I enjoyed may be common to the play! Maybe I'm just out of the loop! But I still really liked them! (In no particular order.)

Nick Cartell and Preston Truman Boyd were really good as Jean Valjean and Javert, but I have to give a special shout out to Haley Dortch whose Fantine was exquisite and Randy Jeter who played the Bishop and whose breath control/ability to hold long notes I envy deeply.

Gavroche flipped Javert off at the barricades. 🤣

Is Grantaire caring for Gavroche a common theme in the musicals? Because in this one, Gavroche ran to give Grantaire a hug during one point at the barricades - I think after Eponine dies? And then Grantaire gave Gavroche his coat to sleep under. Later it's Grantaire who takes it the worst when Gavroche dies, and is the one to hold him and take him down from the barricade.

I have a confession… I don't actually know the difference between the different Les Amis. I know that they're popular, and I know some of their names, but I have to double check the lyrics to see who Grantaire was. >>; That being said, they're death scene was really amazing but also probably be very careful if you're sensitive to flashing lights. They had spotlights flash to represent the bullets as each Les Amis died and it was gorgeous and brutal.

Our barricade wasn't a turntable, but the sets in general were really cool. They had a projector screen on the back that they used to great effect, especially during the sewer scene and Javert's suicide.

THE RUNAWAY CART. I have no idea how they did that but it was so well done.

The Turning transition to Empty Chairs at Empty Tables and how each lady in Turning left a candle and then each dead Les Amis picked one up and toasted like it was a cup. Ugh. Gut punch.

The Thénardiers were terrible and hilarious as always. We were high up in the cheap seats, so I couldn't always tell what everyone was doing, but the Thénardiers were always so over the top that I could always tell what they were doing.

Diversity win, one of the worst characters in the musical made canonically bisexual (?) with the lines in Beggars at the Feast changed from, "This one's a queer \\ But what can you do?" to "This one's a queer \\ I might try it too." At which point M. Thenardier started dancing with the gentleman in question and dipped him.

I really could see why Marius would be clueless about Eponine's affections; every time he actually is interacting with her, she's either teasing/friendly bullying him (pick-pocketing his book then throwing it across the street), or helping him find another woman. It's only in her asides/inner monologue that she acknowledges it. It gave very, "boy pulling pigtails" vibes and I would understand why Marius wouldn't necessarily see it.

In general, Marius and Cosette were adorable. His "I'm doing everything all wrong" was pitch perfect and he had the audience laughing.

...I know that J/J (?) Valvert (?) is the most popular pairing, but honestly I came out of the first act wanting an AU where Fantine's illness is less deadly, and she ends up leaving w/ Valjean, and they figure the easiest way to hide is to get married and pretend to be a family; it hides Cosette's parentage, and gives them a cover in Paris; Javert is looking for Single Convict Jean Valjean, not Married Family Man Normal McLoving-Husband-and-Father. And later Javert can join in making them a weird poly trio, as a treat. (Not weird because they're poly; weird because Javert is Like That.)

(...Maybe in a modern AU where Javert gets some major therapy.)

(My first thought was fake-marriage AU where Valjean marries Fantine to get her on his health insurance and then I remembered that that's an American Problem Probably.)

(I'm not saying it would work for all versions of Valjean and Fantine, just in this one.)

The Bishop was with Fantine and Eponine in welcoming Valjean to heaven and that's when I started crying.

In the applause, all the child actors held hands with Valjean and did a bow with him & then he picked up the child!Cosette of the night and carried her. It was adorable. Everything about Valjean and child!Cosette was adorable.

In general everything with the children was so fucking cute.

I already loved the songs, but hearing them echo and reverb in the theater was amazing and I'm super jealous of people who can go on the reg. |D

Just. Ugh. It was so good. I didn't realize how much I missed live theater.

I even bought merch for the first time. 🤣(A keychain and some pins, nothing fancy admittedly.)

I wish every traveling group put out their own soundtrack. I want to listen to these guys 5ever.

#les miserables #les mis

11 notes · View notes

carduelism · 2 years

Text

A collection of my thoughts after/during each chapter of The Goldfinch by Donna Tartt:

5/7/2022 - 14/8/2022

(Will contain spoilers, obviously)

Chapter One: Boy with a Skull

Jesus, I can already tell this is going to be a rough read for me. The start, the first line I believe, where he mentions his mother has set up my expectations for this book to revolve a lot around mother-hood and a relationship between a son and his mother.

WHILE I WAS STILL in Amsterdam, I dreamed about my mother for the first time in years.

As someone who has very strong ties to his mother and actively depends on her for advice and help I already know that this story is going to end up being super personal for me. (As well as the whole deadbeat father issue, though for me I’m still a little more attached to mine).

Theodore Decker, who I have nicknamed Little Guy for some odd reason, so far has been incredibly written and I am very excited for his character to be explored more in the rest of the novel. He so far he is definitely fighting for the stop spot of my top teen protagonist. He is a teen, flawed, anxious but also incredibly bright and not annoying or to standoff-ish (I find those traits very common when writing teens and it is so annoying lmao). Very very excited for more of Little Guy.

Also I love his mother, Ms Decker is what I will call her because I’m to lazy to recall a first name, even though I have knowledge that she dies I can’t help but appreciate her love and fascination for art. I aspire to be as knowledgable as her when it comes to discussing art pieces.

Chapter 2: The Anatomy Lesson

Ouch. This chapter really fuckin’ hurts, more than the last.

WHEN I WAS LITTLE, four or five, my greatest fear was that some day my mother might not come home from work.

The first line, once again, is all ready relatable which helped me immediately infer that this chapter would end up impacting me a significant amount.

Little Guy, Theo, helping the old man even when he himself was injured was absolutely beautiful. As I’ve stated before, I’m so glad that he isn’t just a bitchy little teenager and that he is actually shown to be decently selfless when it comes to the wellbeing of others.

Back on track to me being all angsty and sad about his mother though. Theo had so much goddamn hope that his mother survived the bombing of the museum, he had so much hope that he didn’t even stop to question if his mother was truly alive, he just ran home knowing that she would be there. The whole time he was waiting in the apartment waiting for his mother to come home it took everything in me not to cry though I have to admit I whimpered “No, Little Guy :(“ at some point which was cat judged me for.

I have not watched the film yet but I’m so excited to see the cinematography of this entire chapter (more specifically the scene where he gets the call about his mother’s status) because I just know that I’m going to get stabbed and bleed out in tears.

Chapter 3: Park Avenue

I haven’t finished the chapter yet but I’d just like to talk about how much I love Andy as a friend towards Little Guy. Like, I want him to be my friends because he sounds like a genuinely fun guy to be around.

Also like damn, the author definetly wasn’t afraid of saying ‘faggot’ lol. Not even 100 pages through yet but that already pulled out a full on slur lmao. I do doubt that it would be used again though, mainly because I really really hope that I don’t have to read about Theo getting bullied in depth.

…boys who tripped us and shoved us and slammed locker doors on our hands, who tore up our homework and spat in our milk, who called us maggot and faggot and dickhead …

I’m loving Andy but I want Boris now! I’ve heard about him and he needs to hurry up and be mentioned in the book, like come on man! I want to read about you being helplessly in love with Theo! (Boris and Theo’s whole thing has been the only thing spoiled to me so far, luckily.)

Back on Andy because something about him just completely messed up my reading schedule and I just have to speak up abt it.

the sleek little phone with an anime still of Virtual Girl Aki (naked, in porny thigh-high boots) on the lock screen.

Sir, Andy, my guy, we need to sit down and have a talk because I knew you would have a lock screen like that but I still prayed that he wouldn’t. The fact that it’s just straight up admitted makes me though more and as well as the fact that it just comes out of no where 💀 It was so serious—the possibility of Little Guy meeting some sort of family friend of his—but then this fucker pulls out his anime girl lock screen.

(Just read spoilers about him dying, sorry for bullying the dead boy lmao)

Chapter 4: Morphine Lollipop

I am up to just a bit into VI and of course I love Pips, I’m glad that she is okay and survived by a miracle but I’m all on board with her aunt taking her to Texas. Like yes queen, seperate the straights because Theo, Little Guy, this is not you. You just don’t know it yet.

Also also time for me to be more angtsy about my new found affinity with Little Guy’s daddy issues.

“Who knows? He ditched us.”

“Good riddance?”

“Well—” I shrugged—“I don’t know. Sometimes he was okay. […] There was a lot of yelling and stuff. It was mostly him doing it. But—” uncomfortably aware that I’d said more than I meant to—“it was mainly him making a bunch of noise. Like—oh, I don’t know, like when he had to stay with me, when she had to work? He was always in a really bad mood. I

This is the exact way that I think of my own father, make that of what you will, and I really despise how accurate and painful it is. What makes it so painful is that he wasn’t an ‘okay’ dad, he was a shitty dad and thats pretty evident. But since Theo was facing this abuse, a like me, he downplays it and just says he’s ‘okay’. HE’S NOT AN OKAY DAD LITTLE GUY! Now watch my continue to call my dad okay.

Just started XVII, by that I mean I’m like three paragraphs into it, and my god, HIS FATHER??

I stood frozen in the doorway. The voice was unmistakable: my father.

Mate I was just shit talking him and now he has appeared in the book, I goddamn jinxed it. If he dare puts up and act in front of the Barbours, acting all cute and stuff as if he’s a good dad, then I’m going to die right here right now. I really really hope he doesn’t get custody of Little Guy, like Hobie should be his new father please, not him. Praying to god that his father wont put a single hand of my boy, Theo.

Yeah, just finished the chapter, finished 1/5 parts of the book, and holy shit my boy is moving :(

Farewell to Andy, Kitsey, all the other Barbours, and maybe farewell Hobie. Idk the last line of the chapter was funky:

He pushed open the door, and I walked out of the house—for the last time, as I thought. But though I had no idea I’d ever be seeing him again, about this I was wrong.

Like, Theo! That’s really damn ominous my boy 😭 Why do you have to go see Hobie again and why are you so creepy about it. Do you need him to restore you a coffin because you murdered someone in the future? Theo????

I’m very excited for Theo to finally move and go to a new school because I really need some Boris right now and I’m tired of reading the book without him. Boris this part please.

Chapter 5: Badr al-Dine

Woo! They’re finally heading to Nevada which means more story and please please please means that Boris will introduce himself.

When Little Guy was thinking to himself about how he will miss Goldie and the other doorman but he doesn’t ever verbalise the thought because ‘it would come out gay’. Come on man, your internalised homophobia is showing as well as the toxic masculinity you probably gained from your father 😭😭

“I—” I was going to miss them, but it seemed gay to come out and say so.

Also like just as I began to think that damn, with a turn of events Theo’s dad isn’t an ass anymore and no longer an alcoholic, his dad had a change of heart and began to be an ass again. I had hope for you, Mr. Decker!

So… Little Guy is not very innocent and little anymore. He sure loves doing his drugs and drinking beer with Boris. He sure loves Boris. Little Guy has grown out of his nickname in only a few months, guess I have to start just calling him Theo again.

Chapter 6: Wind, Sand and Stars

The chapters are beginning to get ridiculously long so I think I’m only half way through this one but so much shit has happened lmao.

So Boris has a girlfriend, Kotku, who is eighteen, right? And then Theo comments how she is three years older than them so that makes Boris fifteen? Listen, I would maybe be okay if Boris was sixteen, it’s not ethical in any way but it is at least legal. Once again though Boris isn’t the person to go to if you need something done legally.

I love Boris but my god, if he was really and I would either be terrified of him (fifteen year olds are scary, okay?) or I would go out of my way to shit talk him everyday. Mate is a druggie so early into his life so I can tell it ain’t gonna get any better for him, poor bud. Actually nvm. Not poor bud, just remembered he said a racial slur twice. Was it in character? Yeah, I suppose, since he picks ups on english that strangers use, but was it necessary to include? No. Love ya’ Boris but you need to fix your vocabulary.

Alot of things happened when I stopped updating but let me scream about it in order:

Theo admitted that he and Boris have fucked. He was so defensive about it as well, not word for word but basically what he was saying; “I’m not gay, I swear, I’m just jealous about Kotku. No! Not because me and Boris have fucked before, I can’t even remember that! [insert a rough description about how it happened and describing an 0rg@$sm]”. This boy…

And yet (this was the murky part, this was what bothered me) there had also been other, way more confusing and fucked-up nights, grappling around half-dressed, weak light sliding in from the bathroom and everything haloed and unstable without my glasses: hands on each other, rough and fast, kicked- over beers foaming on the carpet—fun and not that big of a deal when it was actually happening, more than worth it for the sharp gasp when my eyes rolled back and I forgot about everything;

My guy… my boy… this is the gayest shit ever. I tried explain this to my mother as well (because when ever I mention a gay relationship in my book she is always convinced I’m just over-exaggerating and making everything gay lol) and it was awkward because I was like “um yeah so ma’ I think they are gay because they um-“ and then I just handed her the book and it was so funny because she was laughing at the fact that I can not say the word ‘sex’ in front of her without being embarrassed (something my father practiced with me lol, I can’t talk about anything sexual aloud anymore).

Jesus. I got a bit off-topic and personal but I’m back.

But next event in the story:

“Potter—” he followed after me.

“Yes?”

“There is something important I have to tell you.”

“Boris,” I said, turning, “what the mother fuck. What is it?” I said, as we stood and stared at each other. “If you have something to say, go on and say it.”

“Am afraid it will make you mad.”

“What is it? What have you done?”

Boris was silent, gnawing the side of his thumb.

“Well, what?”

He looked away. “You need to stay,” he said vaguely. “You’re making a mistake.”

When I was reading this I was gripping on the page (I’m actually reading a digital version so I was not quote gripping on the ‘page’, it was actually my bed sheet but that sounds like it belong in some smutty work) and freaking out. It didn’t hit and I didn’t even ask myself if this was about him being love with Theo and I just assumed it was about either more death, more debt or drugs. Glad it wasn’t lmao

Chapter 7: The Shop-Behind-the-Shop

Mediocre chapter lmao. This chapter was one of my fastest read throughs and nothing of severe note happened. Sure, Theo got temporarily adopted by Hobie and he might’ve had at least one actual conversation with Pippa (icky, get away from the woman Theo, I know what you are) but honestly nothing I was screaming about.

Chapter 8: The Shop-Behind-the-Shop, continued

Still mediocre and boring lol. Theo got into his weird school thing, good for him but jesus he got my anxiety going from the stress of waiting for an acceptance letter. He also found a hiding place for The Goldfinch but just gonna be honest here, shitty spot, like I wouldn’t trust that it hadn’t been stolen if it wasn’t constantly in my view.

Also like oh my god! His apartment is destroyed and he’s so fucking sad about ittt. Theo it’s gonna be okay :( I’m sure someone has your mother’s stuff. Having to hold back tears right now because my boyfriend keeps looking at me weirdly, he mustn’t see me cry over a fictional character (again)

Chapter 9: Everything of Possibility

This chapter already has me in shock; an eight year time skip? Really? Smh. We missed all the fun stuff like his first legal drink since his time with Boris (I’m sure Hobie wouldn’t have allowed him to drink while he was staying with his) and I suppose his time at school, like isn’t this dark academia? WHERE IS THE ACADEMIA

Wait but Platt is back and… both Andy and Mr. Barbour are dead?? Miss Donna skipped a lot of the fun stuff in this time skip, like Theo is learning his old best friend died a few months after his death. Theo is learning this way too late and I imagine he probably feels super guilty for not checking in on the Barbours when he first entered this city

Chapter 10: The Idiot

Donna Tartt went straight into this chapter and was like “yep, Kitsey and Theo are dating now and they have always been in love.” Like ma’am where are you getting this from. Kitsey and Theo being in love since childhood is even more of a stretch than Boris and Theo being in love since childhood.

Also Theo is being watch by people I’m going to assume are people Reeve had hired (Reeve’s men, probs gonna call em’ that) and this book is starting to get scary. Like what is Reeve gonna do to get The Goldfinch from Theo if not some form of abuse, manipulation or torture. A simple conversation with Theo no matter what will never end with him handing the painting over. Honestly even if Reeve threatened to kill his fiancé, my man honestly wouldn’t care much lmao.

Also Theo is currently look into a bar and I got spoilers that he and Boris meet in one so when ever a bar is mentioned from now on I just freak out and start to scream whenever one is mentioned. I’m a little fangirly (gender neutral) over them boys. He’s going in one now eeeeeekkkkk

OMG POTTER SCMFFHZDHDDHDNDN BORIS IS BACK BABBBYYYYY

HE WAS THE GUY OUTSIDE OF THE SHOP WANTING TO SEE THEO??? PLEASE HE WAS SO SCARED SOMEONE WAS OUT TO GET HIM AND IT WAS JUST BORIS WHO WAS WAITING A GODDAMN MONTH TO JUST TALK TO HIM. THEO UR SUCH A BAD BOYFRIEND FOR MAKING HIM WAIT SO LONG

Sorry. That was unprofessional, let me get serious again because who is this Myriam lady and why is even Boris scared of her. Also not this man biting his lip and seeming flustered around Theo, what a gay man he is.

Boris, Boris was scared to come back to Theo because he thought he would be mad. He thought Theo would be mad because he thought that he already knew that the painting was gone and that Boris stole it. Boris is an overthinker and it fucking hurts so much. I LOVE YOU BORIS AND THEO WILL LOVE YOU FOREVER TOO ITS OKAY BB BOY

Also the fact that Boris has stopped Theo from killing himself multiple times is fucking murdering me. He doesn’t want to loose him but Theo can’t see that and feels as if he is alone. Fuck me mannnn this book is so sad now. Boris asking Theo about what that cut was on his face and you cant tell me that Boris wasn’t praying that Theo didn’t cut himself on purpose. For sakes of more angst this chapter, I need Theo to try to kill himself again but then Boris saving him for one last time.

Bro, why did Kitsey think it was a good idea to cheat on her boyfriend WITH HIS BULLY. What were your thoughts my dear Kitsey, WHAT WERE YOU THINKINGGGG. My girlie is in a silly goofy mood and the ice is getting thinner. If Theo had a menty b over this then booooo Kitsey, you suckkkk, you suck Tom Cable’s dickkkkkk

So he confronted her after Boris told him to do so (very submissive of him /j) and my god… the result to me is quite amusing. The fact that Kitsey thought it was okay to continue to see Tom up until her and Theo’s marriage is absurd. Listen, I know some shit is going down that I don’t think I’ve quite gotten to but I need to punch Tom because it’s all 100% his fault but Kitsey my girlllll you should’ve told Theo about this shit before it blew up.

During the confrontation may I just say, Theo was micromanaging the way he spoke, reacted, and expressed his emotions and yeah, me too bud. Hyperfixate on trying to keep calm when you were obviously not.

ALSO PIPPA IS BACK!!!! MY BABY GIRL!!! The way that Theo always describes her hair is quite hilarious though. Donna, you can’t keep describing her hair because you are eventually going to run out if words. Idc if Theo is obsessed with her hair, the descriptors are starting to get tiring. (Also he commented on how she had bitten down her nails or something and related it to how Boris did the same. Stop comparing your lovers to your boyf riend challenge!!!)

Um Theo just recalled him at 16 dating a 27 year old. Theo… are you good? You seem totally desensitised to this shit because of Boris and Kotku but DATING SOMEONE ALMOST 12 YEARS OLDER THAN YOU IS NOT GOOD! Theo baby boy you need to go to a therapist for more things than just the bombing, you were fucking groomed!

He’s currently at his engagement party (ik, why is it still happeninggg my guy she cheated on you) and some rando creepy dude is here but so is BORIS! Boris is fun and good and eeeeeeekkkkk I love him.

Chapter 11: The Gentleman’s Canal

I keep forgetting this is here and I keep ranting on discord instead of here so let me just catch you up on my thoughts on this chapter rq

I’m up to a section in The Idiot where Pippa and Theo are on a date and it’s so interesting… Pippa is another survivor of the bombing that almost killed both her and Theo and I feel like that love is so special to both of them but Theo is translating the nostalgia of their connection as something romantic when it truly isnt. Theo has this thing, I’ve noticed, where he thrives for nostalgia. Reason why he started dating his fiancé? She was his bestfriends sister during childhood. The reason he continues to do drugs even after Boris influenced him to do so? Sure, probably addiction but also the addiction to nostalgia. The reason he is in love with Pippa? Nostalgia. She reminds him of the last moments of his life when everything was truly in order

In addition to this, they play Apocalypse by Cigarettes After Sex during this scene in the movie which at first I thought was very odd (homophobic? Erasing his relation with a man and in turn making him crush on a girl?) but it definitely is used in a platonic way or at most from Theo’s perspective (where he displays his obsession with nostalgia as romance). *’sharing secrets with each other since we were kids’* very nostalgia based romance of you Theo

Chapter 12: The Rendezvous Point

So basically, Boris who was always characterised as the one of the ONLY characters to not simply give Theo and then push him away but instead gave him actual affection pulled a homophobia AND GAVE HIM DRUGS AND PUSHED HIM AWAY AHHHHH🔫🔫🔫 Theo is all sad about that (he was kinda happy abt the drugs but he’s an addict leave him alone)

And then shit got really bad right

Theo was aimlessly flicking through the television channels and he ended up watch a film his FATHER acted in and that triggered him to think about HOW MUCH HE IS LIKE HIS DAD and I’m literally going to die because me too Theo Decker!! Daddy issue mf bitch

Anyway I think he is gonna try to kill himself now so thats fun!

…I only said he was trying to kill himself as a joke but I think its serious now guys

I want to die,

RIP comfort chara 🤭🤭

Hahah heheh so cute Donna Tartt dont make him do this please

Act of rebellion. Life: vacant, vain, intolerable. What loyalty did I owe it? None whatsoever. Why not beat Fate to the punch? Throw the book on the fire and be done with it? There was no end in sight to the present horror, plenty of external, empirical horror to line up with my own endogenous

WOAH MY MAN JS WRITING THEIR LETTERS ALREADY HUH WHAT SLOW DOWN THEO HOLY SHIT HUH HUH WDYM IF HE ACTUALLY DOES THIS IM DONE

He’s talking about how his body feels like a marionette to his own actions and I literally cant rn

*insert picture of marionette from fnaf bc im to lazy to find one rn*

So he survived and he just compared Boris to his father…

Something in me had gone dead at the sight of him, almost like with my dad when I was a kid,

MY MOTHER WAS JOKING ABOUT THIS YESTERDAY PLEASE

Ten pages left 🤠 I am so fucking sad holy shit please dont finish I dont want this to end when this ends I am going to scream and I cant do that its 12:03 at night c’mon

3 pages…

Whoah im emotional and still reading but Screensaver by Wilbur Soot just started playing and my god I am litearlly dead. I have not heard this song in ages and it’s reminding me of the start of my MCYT phase but Im reading about the end of something im crying stfu Wimblur Shit

2 pages…

1 page…

I cant read it, at least right now. It’s like the square of chocolate, yk, I want to eat it but then it would be gone and I cant enjoy it after that. I dont want this to finish but here I go.

I have started the final page

Shit.

Closed the book.

It’s done Im so fucking upset 😭😭🤮

Anyway lets ignore that fact that I will never be able to experience this for the first time again and focus on what Mr Decker said

And—I would argue as well—all love. Or, perhaps more accurately, this middle zone illustrates the fundamental discrepancy of love. Viewed close: a freckled hand against a black coat, an origami frog tipped over on its side.

A freckled hand—Pippa’s presumably—against a black coat—Boris?—an origami frog tipped over on its side—Pippa.

OR YOU SEE MAYBE THEO COULD BE BORROWING BORIS JACKET IN A ROMA-

sorry.

No but I cant wtf is this ending Theo this isn’t good enough baby boy.

I am sad but guess no more saving this post to my drafts anymore. The Goldfinch is done.

#the goldfinch #donna tartt #theo decker #theodore decker #i love it #so far at least #i want to hug him #tgf boris #boris pavlikovsky #pippa blackwell #kitsey barbour #andy barbour #boreo #fuck this book #i am a mess #i feel ill #long post

20 notes · View notes