#probably add her to my dance troupe au

[huskyremix]

Oh yeah, I haven’t shared here the tiny tortie cat girl that Narinder had Aym and Baal take from some old turtle man in a dream I had a little while ago, and making Lamb be babysitter. I’ve named her Bella. No idea if she actually had a family but shes got a new one now I guess. 

[hoperays-song]

If Sing 2 was rewritten to have Ryan either take Nooshy's place (no hatred toward her character or anything!) or interacting more with them as a trio, how would that scene where they almost go back home after Crystal threatens Mr Moon play out? Nooshy seem to be more "free" to jup onto that, but Ryan is a part of the dance group, maybe having a few friends there etc. Would he too be willing to leave hos team an follow Johnny and the others at that point or would that be a scene where they kinda realize that "Oh crap, this is it. We're gonna separate here, aren't we?", before returning imidiately to working together when the decide to put on the play anyway? (Granted, I don't know details of his trauma studying under Klaus all those years, so maybe he'd jump on the chance to leave?)

Just a thought that hit me suddenly. There are a lot of possible scenarios that could be built in that.

Hello, thank you for the amazing question!

------------------------------

I actually have already written an outline to an AU like that! I I however don't really touch on that particular so let me more thoroughly explain my thoughts!

Ryan would be with Johnny in that scene for the reason of I think that when Johnny got the (probably very concerning) call to "get out", Ryan was either with him practising or class was just wrapping up. Ryan was obviously very concerned about said message and decided to tag along to make sure everyone was ok.

However, when it was revealed that the troupe were going to leave, it was definitely a moment of "Oh crap, this is it. We're gonna separate here, aren't we?" between Johnny and Ryan. Especially since there is no way that Ryan, the Principal Dancer for a top choreographer, isn't under contract. His career and more than likely living situation (it's hard to find work in an extremely competitive performance environment) are tied to Klaus. He's reliant on him. That's not to say that Ryan supports anything that Klaus does or agrees with him ideology. He clearly doesn't. However, Ryan is still bound by contract to Klaus and the troupe at this point and couldn't leave if he wanted too.

That's not to say that Ryan wouldn't want to go with the troupe, he absolutely would. He definitely wants to get as far away from Klaus as possible due to those past traumas (I swear, my analysis of their relationship is almost done, I'll tag anyone who wants me to) and be allowed to just perform to make people happy.

However, even without the contract in place, I do think that Ryan would struggle with leaving his friends within the troupe behind to face Klaus's wrath in his absence. Therefore, if they had actually left in that scene, and Ryan wasn't bound by contract, I see two real options occurring: either 1, Ryan is able to meet with his friends and bring them with him, or 2, Ryan stays behind so he wouldn't be abandoning them. We see Ryan in a leadership role within the troupe, he wouldn't abandon people who needed him.

In the AU I wrote, Ryan is able to leave (along with a few other dancer) at the end of the movie technically due to a breach in contract. If a being affected by the contract were to commit a felony, say aggravated assault, then the contract becomes null and void, allowing Ryan to leave without facing any potential legal repreccussions.

Essentially, during the scene where they decide to leave or not at the hotel has the potential to become extremely heartbreaking. Add in squeezing each others hands, sad and pain looks, things that would hint towards their relance to leave each other, but it being clear that Ryan is duty-bound to do just that (a perfect opportunity to mirror their characters in the show).

------------------------------

I definitely got off topic there, sorry, but I hope that answered your question! I linked the AU down below, please feel free to check that out if you want. Thanks again! - <3 Gooseless

[thewatermelloncat]

Backstage (Rosénali CH 7)

CH1, CH2, CH3, CH4, CH5, CH6

Summary: With the production date looming closer, the friend group pulls together to get each other through rehearsals.

Boarding School AU

Kinda Pastel/Punk AU

Author’s Note: Be on the look out for links to extra stories within the chapters.

Warnings: Swearing

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The next morning Rosé awakes to her door gently closing. Panic should course through her at the sight of another figure in the dark room but even half-asleep she easily makes it out to be the shape of Denali.

“Nali, what are you doing here this early?” Rosé asks as she looks at the clock on her phone. “My alarm doesn’t go off for ten minutes.”

“Go back to sleep, Rosie” Denali says softly, picking up Rosé’s phone and deactivating the alarm. “Mik and Liv are bringing breakfast to us.”

Rosé hums in confusion.

“Mik’s idea” Denali explains as she sits down in the desk chair. “Just get some more sleep.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The next time she wakes, it’s to the door opening and quiet whispers traveling inside.

She closes her eyes again and pulls in a breath to wake up a little more.

“Morning” she mumbles as she rolls onto her side. Blinking her eyes open and facing the doorway Mik and Liv just walked through.

“Good morning” Liv reflects sweetly.

“Morning, gorge” Mik says.

“Hardly feel gorgeous at the moment” Rosé admits, pushing herself up off the mattress and running a hand through the tangles in her hair.

Denali huffs a laugh at the comment and throws Rosé her hairbrush from the desk.

She catches it and works away at her hair while Mik and Liv divvy out the breakfast they’ve collected. Mik complaining about how Liv wouldn’t let her near the coffee sachets.

“I think that’s fair, Mik” Denali says after Liv explained that Mik has a science test first period.

“Are you feeling better, Rosé?” Liv asks sweetly as she hands her a bowl of cereal.

“Yeah” Rosé answers quickly. “Thanks for letting me sleep in and doing… all of this” she gestures a hand around the room.

“Really you should thank Mik. It was all her idea” Liv says.

“Don’t bother. That just makes it awkward!” Mik calls out, leaning into Rosé’s view from behind Liv. “It’s just a friend thing.”

“Well, I still appreciate it… all of you” Rosé smiles awkwardly at them.

“It’s not a problem, Rosie” Denali finalises. “And it’s probably best if you don’t start your week falling asleep in class.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Rosé didn’t fall asleep in class; not even nearly over the next few weeks. Bringing breakfast to each other became like a tradition. There was no official roster but they would figure it out as they went.

Liv and Mik found out about Rosé’s job – which Liv had secretly suspected for a while – and after each of her night shifts it would be her turn.

Though Denali was normally an early riser, they pressured her to sleep in if they saw she was getting tired from all of her dance rehearsals. And Mik benefited correspondingly in their shared room.

They also made sure to share it around with Liv so it would be fair, although she never asked for it.

“Rosé you’re the fucking best!” Mik groans appreciatively as Rosé hands around takeaway boxes of leftover pancakes the morning after she had mentioned that she was craving them. Though she hadn’t thought anything would come of it.

“Had to be eaten” Rosé shrugs as she sits down, cross legged on the floor of Mik and Denali’s room. “Just wish we could use the microwave in the kitchens.”

“These are so good anyway, Rosé” Denali says through a mouthful as she reaches for another pot of syrup.

“We could use a hairdryer” Mik suggests.

“No” Liv warns quickly, completely prepared to physically restrain Mik if she tried.

“Would that even work?” Denali laughs and they launch into a debate.

Liv trying to calmly shut it down before Mik does something stupid. Rosé happy to sit back and watch it, not thinking that it would work but also not exactly opposed to Mik doing something stupid.  Denali arguing that she doesn’t know how scientifically plausible it is and Mik trying to reason that the only way to know is to try. Though it’s all for nothing as Mik finishes her pancakes before the argument is over.

“I’m so glad that this is just a half day” Denali says as she ties her shoelaces, getting ready for class.

“You won’t be saying that when they let us know what disappointments we are during rehearsal” Mik drones warningly about the first complete run-through of the production that is due to start after lunch.

Denali shrugs with a dismissive hum. “I get to miss out on English, so I don’t care.”

“Do you not like being in classes with me?” Rosé feigns offense, clutching a hand to her chest.

“You know that’s not what I meant” Denali scoffs as she stands up from the floor to follow the rest of the group out the door.

“Well, for the record, I don’t like being in class with you either” Rosé pretends to ignore her, turning her nose up playfully as she stalks down the hallway. The other’s following suit and rushing themselves off to class.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

As far as first full rehearsals go, it wasn’t too bad. Sure, they had been given many things to improve on but nothing too harsh. Mik hadn’t forgotten the single line that she had, and Denali’s dance troupe all had smooth transitions. Of course, Denali twisting her ankle when her roller-skate hadn’t wanted to come off after her solo hadn’t been a highlight.

“Ms Visage’s critique about your harmony being off is bullshit” Rosé says to Olivia as they step out of the auditorium and head back towards the dormitories.

“Thanks, but you don’t have to say that” Liv says but smiles anyway.

“Honestly” Rosé stands by it. Knowing that Olivia takes critique harder than most.

Suddenly they are cut off by Mik gasping dramatically. “You are limping!” she directs at Denali who is trailing slightly behind.

“It’s fine” Denali maintains. “It’s a twist not a sprain.”

Mik shakes her head throughout her speaking and when Denali stops, she demands, “get on my back.”

“Mik, I’ll crush you” Denali laughs as the smaller girl turns her back to her, readying her hands out to catch her legs.

“No, you won’t. I’m stronger than I look” Mik affirms.

“Even if you are, her feet will still be on the ground” Rosé teases Mik before offering to Denali, “here, jump on mine.”

For a moment Denali stays where she is as Mik moves away from her, happy for Rosé to take over the task of carrying her. At her friends all looking at her expectingly, she gives in, laughing as she jumps up on Rosé’s back.

“Where are we going?” Mik asks when they take off walking again.

“Go to my room, it’s closer” Rosé directs.

“Ooh, Mik, we should go to the office and get some ice” Liv suggests and without saying a word Mik bounds over to join her and they head off in another direction.

Rosé laughs softly when she feels Denali hang her head against her shoulder.

“It’s not even a big deal” Denali groans at the fuss everyone is making over her. Feeling Rosé’s shoulders continuing to shake as she laughs.

“Just let them do it.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

“I think it’s sweet that they have a separate performance just for friends and family, but I kinda wish they had that one last” Denali says from on top of Rosé’s bed with an icepack under her ankle.

“Yeah, I get that” Liv acknowledges, sitting cross-legged on the floor. “Get the nerves out of the way first.”

“People have been saying that for years, but I don’t know why they haven’t changed it” Mik mentions as she slowly spins around in the desk chair.

“They spin some bullshit about every performance having to be just as good as the others – treat every one like it will be your last and all that” Rosé drones from further down the bed than Denali, lying looking up at the roof with her knees hanging off the end.

“Mr Piane?” Liv asks.

“You had that speech before?” Rosé looks toward her, and Denali figures that it’s one of their vocal tutors they’re talking about.

Liv raises her eyebrows in a knowing look before she turns to Mik. “When are your parents getting here?”

“Couple of days before, I think. But they’ll leave the day after” Mik answers. “What about yours?”

“Opposite from you: come the day before, leave a couple after. Denali?”

“Day before, leave late the day after” Denali answers.

“Have you heard back from your parents, Rosé?” Liv asks considerately.

Rosé shakes her head and Mik immediately changes topic to what she overheard two girls gossiping about the day before.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The ongoing conversation hadn’t been halted by Rosé’s phone buzzing but it is at her dramatic groan after reading the message.

“What is it?” Denali asks as Rosé lazily rolls off of her bed.

“I need to fill in someone’s shift at work.”

“Can’t someone else do it?” Liv asks.

“We were going to do homework together tonight” Mik adds.

“I know, I know” Rosé repeats as she gets her things together. “But I’m missing a lot of my usual shifts with rehearsals and the performance next week.”

Around the room various hums sound off as signals that her point is fair enough.

“You guys can stay in here, I don’t care” Rosé says as she shoulders her bag.

“Okay, just let us know how you get on” Denali asks.

“Shouldn’t be late. Think it’s only a single shift” rosé explains before she steps out the door. Leaving them talking about whether Mik is nervous about getting everyone ready for the full dress rehearsal tomorrow.

Later that night when she stumbles back into her dorm, her feet sore from standing, she’s halted at the sight of her books stacked neatly on her desk. On top sitting a page of science notes written out by Olivia and another of English notes in Denali’s handwriting. Then she smiles.

CH8

[snickiebear]

yo nadia <3333 i'm bored in my online classes and u reblogged the questions thingy at the right time lmao, so get ready: 1, 4, 5, 9, 10, 17, 23, 24, 28, 30!!!, 34, 38, 39, 40 (the intimacy of being understood) (imma stop here lol) (also i'm sorry u're not feeling well, ily and hope u'll feel better soon!! <33333)

ELE ILY. (and thank you, i’m stayin home today cause,,, yeah. i appreciate you sm.) you’re the literal best, i adore you. 

1. How long ago did you start reading fanfiction? Writing fanfiction?

The first fanfiction i read was for The Lunar Chronicles when I was like 11?? and it was 100% on accident and it scarred me because it was a hardcore porn one with a period kink and i was like WHAT IS THIS??? OH MY GOD???? LMAOOOOO i didn’t pick it back up until i was 13-14 and really got into the Fairy Tail fandom. I still reread my favorites on ff.net cause i love them. 

As for writing, I wrote a horrible, terrible x-men fanfiction when I was twelve. (my friend still brings it up and REFUSES to delete it so it still gets comments and views, that shit HAUNTS ME ELE.) then tried again for Fairy Tail, posted like two chapters before taking it down cause i wasn’t really feeling it. And then I posted The Intimacy Of Being Understood and here we are. 

4. Link your three favorite fics right now.

OMGG okok 

@murd3rm1ttens ‘s The Problem How Time Works IF YOU HAVENT READ THIS YOU GUYS NEED TO HOP ON IT ASAP. MITTEN’S WRITING SO SO SO SO GOOD. SAKURA AND INO ARE TOTAL BADASSES. KAKASHI IS A SIMPPPP. ITS SO FUCKING GOOD. 

@mouseymightymarvellous ‘s We Were Screaming In Color (Only A Possibility) yes, yes I KNOW. i always point into mousey’s direction but i WILL always advocate that everyone reads her fics, they’re literally so beautiful???? i just happen to be rereading WWSIN rn 

@safelycapricious ‘s Shaking Up And Breaking Down series. I found this like?? idfk but i’ve been raving about it ever since. ALSO CHECK OUT THEIR FICS IN GENERAL. 

fuck i have more than three but also check out @ambivalens999 ‘s Masks

i do wanna make a fic rec thing where i just rav about my favs,,, might do that later or sum

5. What are your fanfic pet peeves? Do they have a huge effect on whether or not you decide to read something?

Omniscient third person. I don’t like it. Like I can understand that it can be a little hard to stay in one person’s perspective but, in my opinion, if you can, it shows how disciplined you are as a writer. Plus, i just get so confused when I go from A’s thoughts to suddenly what B is thinking about A. 

When writers use ‘ ‘ instead of “ “. When writers put thoughts in ‘ ‘ instead of just italicizing them. It’s small things but like they just bother me sO MUCH. most of the time i can ignore it and try to enjoy but other times i just dip. 

9. Tag 3 fic writers you think are underrated/unknown in the fandom/fanfiction community.

@espoir-et-reves !!!!! THEIR SHISAKU FICS ARE SO SO SO SO SO GOOD. And they have a warring states one going on THAT I AM SO OBSESSED WITH. 

@writer168 idk if they’re really “underrated” but THEY HAVE SUCH GREAT FICS ON AO3. Like theres an AU with sakura, kiba, and shino that i reread constantly because it just. is. so. fucking. GOOD. and they posted a new one that i’m YELLING about. 

@eggtoasties okay they only have 2 in the naruto fandom (one shisaku which is still ongoing) BUT THEIR WRITING STYLE IS SO NICE?? I ABSOLUTELY LOVE IT. I still go back and reread their shikasaku one cause UGH i can’t get enough. I love it. 

10. What’s your favorite fandom, pairing, or character to read fic for?

Fandoms: Naruto, Soul Eater, The Old Guard, ATLA

Parings: KakaSaku/ShikaSaku/ShiSaku/MultiSaku, SoMa, Joe X Nicky, Zukka

Character: SAKURA. I will read anything with Sakura as the main character and her being a fuckin badass or becoming a badass. I love her.

17. How obsessively do you sit and stare at your fic after you’ve just posted and wait for feedback?

aha.. haha.. well. I check my email like three times an hour. its the first thing i check in the mornings too. I’m literally a whore for praise and literally eat up feedback like its going out of style. I also reread a lot of my stuff because i make so many mistakes and spelling errors, or the spacing is weird oR SOMETHING. plus, literally any and all comments make my day, i go back and reread them cause they just make me feel so tingly and warm like “wow. this person enjoyed the fic/my writing enough to tell me. thats HUGE!”

23. What’s your absolute favorite trope to write?

Angry, feral, bloodied, morally gray women. They aren’t bad guys, they’re probably the good guy, but that doesn’t mean they cant be fucking raging at the world with raw knuckles and blood on their teeth. I just love an angry woman who struggles with her emotions and just has so much inner conflict but that doesn’t take away from her character or badassery, it adds to it. 

24. What’s a trope that you’d like to never hear about as long as you live, let alone write?

The fake dating or miscommunication troupe. LIKE GUYS JUST TALK. AND TELL EACH OTHER OMFG. the entire like obliviousness of “nah they dont like me” while the They holds their hand and kisses their cheek. MOFO WHAT. it makes me so impatient and like mad HAAHHAHA. its probably because i’m a pretty confrontational person so seeing stuff like that just “cmon bro, USE YO HEAD.”

28. How do you deal with writing pressure (ie: pressure to update, negative comments, deadlines, etc)?

I have yet to receive a negative comment! Which i was really surprised about tbh. As for deadlines or pressure to update, i just kind of do whatever. I do set goals, but i set them flexible enough that hey, if i can’t do it, that’s okay. 

I have a lot of mini goals, like “i want to write this chapter and get it done this week” and then the large goal is “FINISH BY END OF MAY” so i have time. 

Actually, now that I think on it, the entire pressure to update thing is probably why i’m waiting until I have all of OL&W written to post it weekly,, cause well. I wouldn’t wanna leave you guys waiting as I tried to write and work out the next chapters and stuff, you know?

30. Post a snippet from your current WIP without context - no more than 300 words.

AAAAAA YOU KNOW I LOVE THESE AHAHAHAH

Have you seen the way the dead dance, World Breaker? They roar, half mad and starving. Do you not wish, do you not hope to see them twist and bend and dance to your will?

Shikamaru snarls, looking behind his shoulders to where his Shadows lay. “Patience.” He spits. “Is of the essence, Things of Ancient. Know your place as the dark you are.”

34. How much of yourself and your life experiences do you put into your writing? What do you think your readers’ image of you is?

None of my experiences match up to anything I write tbh,,, probably the only thing that is me in my writing is maybe the emotional turmoil? I’m pretty emotionally and mentally mature because from a pretty young age i started forming my own opinions, started looking into the world around us and being like “dude what the fuck this is not what disney advertised”. Then i started talking (read: arguing and debating) with my dad about a lot of it. So, like emotions are kind of hard for me. Like i’m pretty good at controlling them or understanding them, but still. idk its hard to explain ig.

Like the weight of stress, the anger, the sadness. It’s kind of therapeutic to write. Cause i don’t know how to put those feelings to verbal words so writing them really helps. 

As for my readers’ image? Probably like some kind of hunched over figure typing away in the dark with a maniacal grin on their face. I honestly don’t know AHHAHAHA but it is fun to think about. I think they’d see me as someone with potential but a lot of room to grow and someone who is imperfect but in a charming way LMAOOOO

38. What does your writing process look like? How chaotic is it on a scale of 1 (very tame) to 10 (you can’t handle this kind of chaos)?

I’m gonna be real honest. Its probably like a 2. I’m a bit of a control freak so I almost always go in chronological order, my writing is pretty linear. Unless, i get bored and jump to one of my fav parts. It's pretty much i sit down, i open the doc, read over my notes and just start writing. 

It’s a little boring to explain AHAHAHA but once i get into the groove of things its really fucking great, I can like feel myself in the world, I can feel what i want the characters to, i love it. I catch myself mouthing the words as i type too, which i find hilarious.

39. What’s something about your writing that you pride yourself on?

I rather like how raw my writing is sometimes. Which might sound really vain, but i do like the way i word things or describe things. I love juxtaposition and repetition, or making a good ole circle back to some minute detail that wouldn’t stand out until i repeat it at the end and you’re like “omg” AHAHAHAHA.

Like those little poetic snippets or certain wording i just sit back and go “damn thats kinda good nadia! go you!’ HAHAHA  

40. How did you come up with the idea for The Intimacy Of Being Understood?

AAAAA this fic is like my first child, my pride and joy LMAO

so the idea initially came when i was reading some fic, idk if it was even naruto, but i was like “i don't like this, but i do like the rain symbolism.” And I knew i wanted to write something kind of slow paced, something a little sad and angsty, but would show KakaSaku slowly but surely falling in love.

Idk if you’ve noticed but a lot of my fics, the pairings don’t change each other dramatically. They accept each other as they are and then they grow with together. Like that acceptance is something i just love writing, its so subtle, it isn’t something you declare. Its simply “I am going to love you. I am going to love you despite your flaws and faults. I am going to love you unconditionally because I know you, I understand you, and there is nothing you could do to drive me away.” 

The fic kind of wrote itself after that first scene. I kept going back to the rain, go being ghosts, and resurrection, and the small epiphanies one gets. I wanted to focus on each character’s growth with each other. They didn’t find light in life because of each other, but with each other. And i think that’s my favorite thing about that fic. 

I wanted something raw and real and just something beautiful. I’m actually really proud of it tbh. Would i go back and rewrite/edit it? Oh of course! I’d do that with every single one of my fics, but i’m not gonna cause i think its in its rawest form right now. :))))

ask me shit plz

[unfortunate-stranger-losers]

Six Baudelaires AU, Part Two {AO3} {Masterlist} {Part One}

Chapter Twenty-Nine → in which Solitude finally morphs into a reptile

Soli giggled as Violet’s makeup brush danced across her face.

“Hold still, this is gonna smudge.” Violet said.

She had already applied powder to the twins’ faces, and burn scars to her own, and now she was working on Solitude’s scales. Sunny was wrapped up in her fake beard, practicing growls, while Klaus and Nick were applying talcum to their hair to make it look white. Lilac was sitting beside Violet, designing fake, scary-looking tattoos up her arm. Most of the tattoos on her other arm, face and legs had already dried, so she was almost done. She had tied her hair into two buns on the top of her head, after slamming some powder onto it, and she was using her ribbon to tie up her dress underneath the large shirt.

“There.” Violet sat back, pushing some of the ginger wig out of her face; it was bobbed, but it still got into her eyes a little. “What do you think, Sol?”

Solitude turned to the phone booth, giggling as she stared at her scaly reflection in the glass. She let out a hiss, and then held out her hand for Babbitt, who leapt onto her shoulder and chirped their approval.

“Now,” Soli said, picking up the box of snakes, “Braid these in?”

Violet nodded, moving behind her and starting to braid in the rubber snakes. Nick came over to join her, and he said, “Your makeup looks good. You… look like you’ve actually been burned.”

“That’s good, I guess.” Violet sighed. “You and Klaus look unrecognizable.” She turned to her other brother, who was helping Lilac, and called, “Are you sure you don’t want your glasses?”

“I’ll be fine if I squint.” Klaus said. “I won’t be able to read, but… well, I won’t bump into anything.”

“I can be your eyes.” Nick said. “If you and Soli’ll be my emotional support.”

Solitude nodded and hissed again, trying to imitate a rattlesnake; she was doing pretty well.

“I think we’ve got the snakes.” Violet said, and she and Klaus scooted away from Soli, who once again checked her reflection in the telephone booth. “What do you think?”

Solitude hissed again and shook her head, which caused the snakes to bounce. She giggled and clapped, and then said, “Love it! Good snakes! Babbitt, make chirp?” Babbitt chirped, and Soli said, “Can you do it when I…” she tapped on the frog’s head, and in response, Babbitt chirped again. “Good Babbitt! Smart Babbitt!”

“Babbitt can hide in your pocket.” Lilac said, blowing on the black rose design she’d just painted. “Boys, do you think you can walk with one leg?”

“We’ll be fine.” Klaus said. “Just try to avoid washing off your makeup, or letting it peel. Same with you, Vi.”

“I’ll be fine.” Violet said. “Sunny, you think you can be a wolf puppy?”

Sunny growled.

“Alright, then.” Violet said.

“Are we sure we want to do this?” Lilac asked, staring down at her painted skin. “Freakshows are awful, horrible places, and it’s likely we… well, we won’t have a great time.”

“What choice do we have?” Violet said.

Nick slowly slid his hand into Klaus’s, and he said, “We’d better hurry.”

“What’s the rush?” Klaus said, staring at Sunny, who was rolling around in the dirt.

“Well, if they…” Nick shut his eyes. “We just… better get there before they drink too much, that’s all.”

“Why-?” Soli asked, looking confused.

“Hey, hey!” Nick forced a smile on his face. “You’re a snake now, remember? Hissing only.”

Soli beamed and giggled, and then hissed like a cobra.

“Alright, get into costume.” Lilac said, and hesitantly, Klaus and Nick struggled to get into one shirt. “Now, be careful, and if anything goes wrong, I’ll-”

“If anything goes wrong,” Violet interrupted, standing up and grabbing Soli’s hand, “We’ll deal with it together.”

Lilac hesitantly nodded, and then she grabbed Violet’s other hand. “Let’s… let’s go in for a job interview, huh?”  

They stared at each other, and then Klaus and Nick stepped forwards, stumbling slightly as they tried to get used to walking with one leg each. Sunny crawled forwards, still practicing her barks, and Solitude toddled around, hissing to herself.

They made it back over to the caravan, and Lilac took a deep breath, before knocking on the door.

“Now, remember,” Violet said to her, “Stay in character. You’re a punk.”

“Why didn’t you be the punk?”

“Shut up.”

The door opened, and everyone immediately straightened up and did their best not to look scared- which was quite easy for Solitude and Sunny, who were 100% convinced that this was the best plan ever.

The children found themselves face-to-face with Count Olaf, and for a moment, none of them could breathe.

Then Lilac took a deep breath, put a hand on her hip, and said, “You nerds still hiring?”

For a moment, they thought none of it had worked; Olaf just gave them a stare, and then a wicked smile.

Then, to their relief, he said, “Why, Madame Lulu! I believe some freaks have arrived for you!”

Nick shook slightly, grabbing onto Klaus’s hand under the shirt. Klaus squeezed it as they heard Madame Lulu call, “Oh! Well, please, allow them in, please!”

Lilac, both because she wanted to stay in character and because she was very sick of his shit, immediately pushed past Olaf, walking into the caravan as if she didn’t have a care in the world. Violet nervously followed, putting a hand over her false burn as if she was ashamed of it. Solitude and Sunny managed to crawl in, and then came Nick and Klaus, once Olaf had moved farther back inside. The caravan had become a bit crowded by this point, but at least everyone could get a decent look at each other.

The troupe looked a bit tipsy, and the siblings who thought to look around counted several empty bottles scattered around the floor. When Count Olaf sat back down, Esme flopped her head onto his shoulder, giggling slightly, while the other henchpeople and Lulu just scanned the Baudelaires.

“Well, they certainly seem freakish.” said the Bald Man.

“Horrific.” said a White-Faced Woman.

“Ghastly.” said the other White-Faced Woman.

Solitude hissed, and Klaus said, “We can hear you.”

“Well, you came to get hired for a freakshow,” Esme said, “What did you expect?”

“To get hired.” Lilac said, rolling her eyes.

“Well, then,” Lulu said, stepping forwards and looking a bit confused, “What exactly are you, please?”

“You can call me Babydoll.” Lilac said. She held out her arms. “My parents were tattoo artists and practiced on me, til they died.”

“Oh, in a fire?” asked the Hook-Handed Man.

Lilac shook her head. “They fell into a river and drowned.”

“Oh, how’d that happen?” asked a White-Faced Woman.

Lilac smirked, enjoying herself immensely. “I got sick of their shit and tied rocks to their boots.”

Surprisingly, the henchpeople looked a little startled at that, as did Lulu, but Esme laughed. “Sounds like my kind of girl!” she said. “I drowned an ex once. So did you, dear, right?”

Olaf was taking another swig of wine, so they couldn’t exactly see his reaction.

“Who’s that, then?” Esme asked, pointing to Violet, who’d been petting Sunny. She flinched and jumped to her feet. “Oh, Egad, what the hell happened to her face?”

Violet flinched again, trying to look shy. She said, only just loud enough to be heard, “I’m Beverly. My… um, my face burned off in an accident.”

“Yeah.” Lilac said, walking over and leaning onto Violet’s shoulder. “She was a kid, see, and her bro was playing with matches. Like we all do.”

The troupe nodded. “Yes, of course.” Olaf said.

“So, well, you can guess what happened.” Lilac shrugged. “Those losers over there,” she gestured to Nick and Klaus, “Are conjoined twins.”

“That means we were born stuck together.” Klaus said.

“We know what ‘conjoined twins’ are.” said a White-Faced Woman.

“Well, I’m Elliot,” Klaus said, “And this is my other head, Janus.”

“Nice to meet you.” Nick said, very quietly.

“And that down there,” Lilac said, pointing her thumb at Solitude, “Is our little pet gorgon. We call ‘er Euryale, cause her actual name is just a buncha hisses.”

Solitude giggled and let out a pretty good imitation of the Mamba du Mal, shaking her head so the rubber snakes looked like they were moving.

“See, it’s whatever that is.” Lilac said, as the troupe nervously scooted away from her.

“I thought gorgons were a myth.” Olaf said. “Like Giuseppe Verdi and Dewey Denouement.”

“Giuseppe Verdi is an Italian composer.” Klaus said without thinking.

“No one asked you, freak.” Olaf said.

Lilac quickly interrupted. “Well, yeah, we thought they were fake and all, but she came outta the woods with snake hair. Apparently the other gorgons think she’s a freak, too, cause she can’t turn people to stone. She can just look weird and make snake calls. All her snakes have names, too, but you don’t care, course.”

“Of course.” Olaf said.

“What’s that one?” asked the Hook-Handed Man, pointing a hook at Sunny. In response, she growled and jumped forwards, attempting to bite. He jumped back, startled.

“That’s Chabo the wolf baby.” Violet said.

“Her mother was a hunter and her father was a wolf she fell in love with.” Klaus added.

“I didn’t even know that was possible.” said the Bald Man.

“She bites and scratches a lot.” Lilac said. “These idiots learned that pretty quick, isn’t that right?”

“Please don’t remind us.” Violet said.

“Only person she doesn’t mess with is Euryale,” Lilac explained, “Cause her snakes bite. They ain’t poisonous, but they sure do hurt.”

Solitude hissed and shook her head, and then she poked her pocket, and Babbitt let out a loud chirp to add to the noise.

“Anyway, we don’t ask much for payment and shit.” Lilac said, rolling her eyes again. “We just need a place to sleep. And probably food. Chabo really tears her meat apart.”

“She can do that in front of an audience, please.” Lulu said. “People love seeing sloppy eaters, and we must always give the people what they want.”

“Oh, hey, the two-headed freak can eat something, too.” Olaf said. He grabbed an ear of corn and tossed it at Klaus and Nick. Nick flinched, so Klaus managed to catch it. “Eat this!”

Klaus and Nick shared a look, and then both struggled to push the ear of corn towards one of their mouths.

The troupe laughed, and the Baudelaires pretended not to be disgusted.

“So? Are we hired or not?” Lilac asked, still trying not to break character.

Lulu shrugged. “Madame Lulu does not see why not, please, so long as you can all fit into the freaks’ caravan, please. Go find it, please, while my Olaf and I talk about our act for tomorrow.”

“Whatever you say, boss girl.” Lilac said. She grabbed Violet’s arm and said, “Come on, Bev, move your sorry ass.”

“Okay, okay.” Violet muttered, snapping her fingers to signal the toddlers to follow her.

The second they were all out of the caravan, Klaus said, “That was humiliating.”

“That was awful.” Nick shuddered.

“Why did we decide this was my character again?” Lilac asked.

“I dunno,” Violet said, ripping herself away from Lilac’s grip, “I think you’re enjoying this a bit.”

“I am!” Sunny said.

“Chabo, only barks.” Klaus reminded her.

“Bark!” Sunny said, which meant, “I am!”

“Hiss!” said Soli.

“Okay, well, that worked better than expected. Let’s focus on that.” Lilac said. “Now we find the freaks’ caravan, sleep there, and figure out what Lulu tells Olaf tomorrow.”

“What if she tells him we’re here?” Violet asked.

“Then we set Chabo on the entire troupe.” Klaus suggested.

“You know,” Nick said, “I don’t need to sleep, I could spy on Lulu-”

“No, no.” Lilac said. “First of all, no. Second of all, you’re attached to Klaus, so double no.”

“But-” Nick began.

“Can we just find the caravan?” Violet asked. “It’s cold out here.”

Lilac sighed. “Yeah, sure. Come on, let’s go meet our new roommates.”

They finally managed to find the caravan that had been painted with the words House of Freaks on the side, and Lilac found the door, knocking gently. “Hello?” she called.

“Stay in character.” Violet muttered.

The door swung open before Lilac could retort, and they looked up to see a tired-looking man with a hunchback. He was holding a candle to help him see in the dark, and he said, “Oh, excuse me. Who are you?”

“We’re your new roomies.” Lilac said.

“Um, we’re the new freaks.” Violet said, trying once again to sound shy. “Madame Lulu told us to come here.”

“Oh!” said the hunchback, and he smiled. “Well, it certainly is nice to make new friends! Come on inside! I’m Hugo.”

“Babydoll.” Lilac said, walking in and trying not to be too rude or too polite.

“Um, I’m Beverly.” Violet said, following her closely.

“I’m Janus,” Nick said, “And this is my other head, Elliot.”

“Those are Euryale the Gorgon and Chabo the Wolf Baby.” Klaus said, as they all made their way inside.

“Wow! We got a lot at once!” Hugo said. “How did you all find each other?”

“It’s a long story that nobody cares about.” Lilac said, sitting on a table and glancing around the caravan, which she was surprised to see was very tidy. “Who’re all you, then?”

Violet and Sunny leaned against a small stove, and Nick and Klaus stumbled to a collection of potted plants. Solitude, meanwhile, wandered over to a large collection of hammocks, two of which were filled. A woman peered down at them and said, “Oh! New coworkers!” She jumped down, pushing on another hammock. “Kevin, get up! New friends!”

A man groaned and sat up. “Why’d you wake me up, Colette? I was having a dream that there was nothing wrong with me.” He glanced at Klaus and Nick and said, “Egad, you two have it as bad as I do!”

“Be polite, Kevin.” Hugo said. “These are… I’m sorry, what are your names again?”

Lilac groaned. “I’m Babydoll, the tattooed teen. That’s Beverly the burned.”

Violet waved awkwardly, gesturing to her scar.

“That’s Elliot and Janus, the two-headed freak.” Lilac said. “The little gorgon who went to say hello to you is Euryale, and at Bev’s feet is Chabo the Wolf Baby.”

“Wow. A wolf baby!” said Colette.

“Is she dangerous?” asked Kevin.

“She doesn’t like to be teased.” Nick warned.

“Neither do I.” Kevin said. “But wherever I go, I hear people whispering, ‘There goes Kevin, the ambidextrous freak.’”

“Ambidextrous?” Klaus asked. “Doesn’t that just mean you’re both right and left-handed?”

“Ah, so you’ve heard of me.” Kevin said. “Did you come all the way to the Hinterlands to laugh at the ambidextrous freak?”

“No.” Klaus said quickly. “I just learned the word from a book.”

“I figured you’d be smart.” Hugo said. “After all, you’ve got two brains.”

“Yes, that’s much more useful than what I have.” Colette said sadly. “I’m Colette, and if you’re going to laugh at me, I’ d prefer you to it now and get it over with.”

“Why would we laugh?” Violet asked, confused.

“Well, I’m a contortionist.” Colette said. “I can bend my body into all sorts of unusual positions. Look.”

She sighed and then bent her head down between her legs, then curled up into a tiny ball on the floor. She pushed one hand against the ground, lifting her body up on just a few fingers, braiding her hair into a spiral. Then she flipped into the air, balanced on her head, and then twisted her arms and legs together.

“Wow!” Sunny shrieked.

“That’s amazing.” Violet said. “Chabo thinks so, too.”

“That’s very polite of you to say,” Colette said, moving back to sit normally, “But I’m very ashamed of being a contortionist.”

“If you’re ashamed of it,” Nick asked, “Why don’t you just move your body normally, instead of doing contortions?”

“Because I’m in the House of Freaks.” Colette shrugged. “Nobody would pay to see me move normally.”

“It’s an interesting dilemma,” Hugo said. “All three of us would rather be normal people than freaks, but tomorrow morning, people will be waiting in the tent to see us all act in unnatural and strange ways. Madame Lulu says we must always give people what they want, and they want freaks performing on a stage.”

“Maybe what they want is wrong.” Lilac said, her voice growing soft. “Maybe you deserve better.”

“Well,” Colette said, “Maybe tomorrow a miracle will happen and we’ll all get the things we wish for most.”

Under their shirt, Klaus grabbed Nick’s hand, and Sunny leaned against Violet as Solitude sat and patted her pocket. “We all can hope.” was all Lilac said.

“Wake up! Wake up!”

“Son of a bitch.” Klaus muttered, as they heard the sound of metal pots banging together.

“Not again…” Violet groaned, sitting up and quickly checking her makeup in the mirror, pleased to see it remained.

Hugo and Kevin had set up hammocks for them, and though it was still a bit crowded, they’d all been able to sleep a little. Solitude slept at Klaus and Nick’s feet, Babbitt hiding under a pillow, and Sunny slept beside Violet, who now carried her to the ground as she growled.

“That must be one of the Count’s friends.” said Kevin, jumping down from his bunk.

“The Count?” Lilac asked, acting curious as she made sure Klaus and Nick got down okay.

“Yes, Count Olaf. He stops by to see Madame Lulu a lot.” Hugo said. “Why, last time he was here, he had-”

The door opened, and the Hook-Handed Man peered in, looking very cross. “Wake up!” he shouted. “Wake up and hurry up! I’m in a very bad mood and have no time for your nonsense. Madame Lulu and Count Olaf are running errands, I’m in charge of the House of Freaks, the crystal ball revealed that one of those blasted Baudelaire parents is still alive, and the gift caravan is almost out of figurines!”

The Baudelaires froze. “What did you say?” Lilac said, breathless.

‘I said the gift caravan is almost out of figurines.” the Hook-Handed Man said. “But that’s not your concern. Be ready in fifteen minutes!”

[phaltu]

psst hey, here’s a fun idea,, college au pals, going out for a Christmas karaoke party that they always do and made the mistake of lance choosing costumes, anyways Keith is late and gets the last costume and everyone makes him wear it (mean girls Christmas dance costumes if yk What I mean) and shiro is Santa and long story short, Keith sings Santa baby to shiro in his lap and everyone’s like ‘ok woaH calm down there pals’

Okay this is a really cute sexy Christmas prompt but I am the worst and my day has been 30 hours long so here’s a little ficlet:

(RATED G or T or S for Stupid)

please click the links to find out what the gang’s wearing

Keith is absolutely ready to protest with his entire heart and soul. He’s ready to say that he shouldn’t be punished for showing up half an hour late for karaoke, that having a meeting with a professor should be a valid excuse. He’s ready to challenge Lance in hand-to-hand combat so he can wrestle his Rudolph costume off of him.

But: his friends are all giving him shit-eating grins, except for Shiro. This is partly due to Shiro’s face being obscured by a fluffy white beard, so for all Keith knows, he could (wrongly) think this entire situation is hilarious and embarrassing for Keith.

They all think they’re so smart.

“Yeah of course,” He says with an even tone as he picks up the slick red fabric, and he can see Lance’s face slip a little. “Where’s the bathroom?”

The dress has the same weird shine that all Party City specials do. It’s on the looser side, and Keith has a faint feeling that Lance has worn this before. He probably hasn’t washed it either, because it smells like it was drenched in Axe, shoved into the bottom of a closet, and hasn’t seen the light of day till today.

Every big holiday, his friends like to get together at a karaoke bar. Lance brings his plethora of costumes; they all dress up like the world’s ugliest cabaret troupe and proceed to bray along to whatever song Pidge picks out, because she has a knack for picking things that suit nobody’s vocal capabilities.

Keith always vocalizes his hate for the tradition, and always shows up regardless of whatever else he’s got going on. Right now, there’s a paper with an extended deadline that he’d rather die than write.

Keith would also rather die than get naked in a grody bar bathroom. He pulls at the waist of the dress, noting how it stretches in his hands. It’s short and sleeveless with a white fake fur trim. The black belt around the waist is frayed, and the golden belt buckle is chipped. Keith gets an idea.

“Nice,” Hunk’s the first one to comment, and Pidge snorts. They’re both dressed like elves, but Pidge has the same matching red sponge nose as Lance.

Allura tips her mistletoe-wrapped felt fedora at Keith, and Shiro pulls down his Santa beard before giving a wink. Lance groans.

“This is maybe the ugliest thing I have ever seen,” Lance says flatly as Keith approaches their booth. “My eyes are literally burning.”

“Good,” Keith says, plopping down in the empty space beside Shiro.

“I think it looks nice,” Shiro says and Lance scoffs.

“You’re ugly too,” He turns to informs Shiro, and Keith laughs as he adjusts himself over the dress. 

He’s kept his jeans and his black shirt on underneath the dress, similar to how Allura used to wear her spaghetti straps in the fifth grade. The dress sits weird on him, the top half of it sliding down, and Shiro leans in to adjust it for Keith by one of the padded insets. 

“Thanks,” He says and Shiro smiles. Lance throws a fry at them.

“I’ll buy you a shot if you do this solo,” Allura suggests as the song title splashes across the screen.

“No,” Keith responds. It’s not that he has any reservations; he’s had a few shots and a bottle and half of rice wine to himself and he’s definitely loose enough to deliver a rendition of “Santa Baby” to his best, drunken capabilities. It’s more to do with the fact that if Keith plays the card of the grumpy reluctant friend well enough, he’ll be able to glean more free drinks out of his friends.

“I’ll do it too,” Hunk chimes in and Pidge adds a “Me too!”.

Lance gives a world-weary sigh like he’s not offered more to Keith before to do something stupid, and throws his hat in with the rest of them.

“Do what you want,” Shiro says from beside Keith because Shiro likes to act Good and Pure at all times. It’s a poor way to disguise the fact that he really just wants to absolve himself of all responsibility.

Keith decides Shiro’s going to be his victim.

The instrumental starts tinkling in, and Keith starts having second thoughts. He’s drunk, having been provided the shots before the song, and suddenly singing to the best friend that he’s had a Blatant Crush™ for the better part of a year doesn’t seem as hilarious an idea as he previously thought. 

“You’re missing your lines,” Shiro calls out and Keith snaps his attention back to the screen. Right. 

Santa baby…

Keith pivots on his heel as he starts to sing, and wonders if he should have eaten a little before he got up to sing. His wooziness is a little evident in his voice, but he saunters over to where Shiro’s sitting. His friends ooh as Keith bends down at his hips to sing off-key directly in Shiro’s face.

Shiro raises his eyebrows and grins a little, cheeks flushed from the alcohol. Keith feels a little emboldened, so he gives him a horrible ugly wink with both his eyes.

He wraps up the first chorus, and it all goes good and well till Shiro leans back against the cushion of their booth. He spreads both his arms on the headrest, and his legs splay apart a little and Keith hates that his brain starts immediately thinking SEXY SANTA SEXY SANTA SEXY SANTA-

 “You’re missing your lines again,” Shiro says easily, and Keith can’t even hear what Lance quips in because he’s suddenly got the world’s worst drunken tunnel vision.

The pull is almost magnetic, and Keith can’t help but stalk closer towards Shiro.

Keith has this fantasy where when he eventually seduces Shiro, he’s lithe and strong and moves in a way that screams primal appeal. This is his opening.

Keith clumsily lands into Shiro’s lap while practically yelling out the lines to the song, drowning out Shiro’s oof! when he catches Keith’s weight. To be fair, wearing a sexy christmas outfit over a three day old shirt and stained jeans is not the epitome of attraction but Keith works with what he has.

“Hey Shiro,” Pidge pipes up from the corner. “Did you bring enough bills for this, or should I lend you some?”

Shiro’s turning steadily redder as Keith continues to drape himself across Shiro’s lap and sing what is possibly the ugliest rendition of Santa Baby ever. His friends are equal parts cheering and telling them to stop embarrassing them, that they need to get a room.

The song wraps up, and Keith’s prepared to roll of Shiro’s lap and onto the floor, and preferably out of the bar completely and back to his dorm where he can proceed to sober up and then die once his drunken antics finally register in his brain. 

However, just as Keith’s about to launch off, a strong arm wraps around his waist, bunching up the cheap fabric underneath.

Shiro’s still red, but there’s a glint in his eyes as he tugs Keith closer.

“I’ll buy you a shot if you do another song,” He says, grin lopsided and tipsy and Keith’s so sorely tempted.

[pendragonfics]

Wednesday

Paring: Bucky Barnes/Reader

Tags: female reader, punk!Bucky Barnes, rlly I mean punk, amputee Bucky Barnes, amputation humour, dark humour, College AU, punks, alcohol, reader is a dancer, angst, cutesy, fluff, Bucky feels, POV Bucky Barnes.

Summary: Every Wednesday, without fail, there was a girl who’d run through the conjoined classrooms in E Block. She’d always have her satchel bursting at the seams, and be wearing the same thing. Black leotard with ruched shoulders, tights. Hair falling out of a scrappy bun. Worn out military boots.

Bucky Barnes got out of the military, but not after his arm decided to leave him first. Now, in university, he's trying to make something of himself, but that's all fine and well but he can't help but notice the girl who'd interrupt his advanced physics class...

Notes: Inspired by one of my favourite tumblr artists’ rendition of Punk Bucky. Shout out to @illustratedkate for being so darn talented!

Word Count: 3,035

Posting Date:  2017-05-29

Current Date: 2017-06-15

Every Wednesday, without fail, there was a girl who’d run through the conjoined classrooms in E Block. She’d always have her satchel bursting at the seams, and be wearing the same thing. Black leotard with ruched shoulders, tights. Hair falling out of a scrappy bun. Worn out military boots. The only reason Bucky noticed her was she constantly interrupting fourth period advanced physics. At first, he didn’t really see her at all, she was just another person. A human on earth, an ant to a boot. Someone he’d forget about come graduation when everyone was not magically hired to companies, and were as broke as ever, just with a diploma. But really, it was Nat who reminded him of this mystery girl, over nips at their favourite bar.

“You think you’re so cool pretending not to see _________ when she cuts through the room,” The redhead smirked into her beer, and taking a drink, drank her laughter along with the stuff Bucky wasn’t that fond of. “I can see straight through you, Barnes.”

Nat was the kind of punk who just how scary they were, and owned it. She was a litany of snark and lip piercings and tattoos over the scars of her past. Bucky had trouble picturing her as a little kid with red ponytails – he wasn’t sure if it was her harsh undercut, or the way her knuckles were always caught in a cycle of healing, and bruising. He could see her as a child who gave too much lip, and tore her pinafore, and ran off to join the army. That’s where he met her, but they’d both been kicked out before any real damage happened. Read: Nat losing her arm too. It had just been a week until return to home soil. He only wore jackets and gloves over the prosthetic, even in summer. It added to the punk aesthetic.

“Who?” He asks. The name doesn’t ring a bell, though it is a nice name.

Nat laughs again, but she doesn’t elaborate. Instead, she’s turning, and has seen someone in the bar, and calls out to them. Usually, Sam and his girls would hang out here, or even Steve in the back with his little sketch book, but when the person Nat is beckoning comes over, Bucky can’t think right.

It’s her.

“__________! Please, introduce yourself to James. He’s an idiot and doesn’t have good taste in human beings. Present company included,” Nat grins, making her snakebite rings tilt against her painted lips.

At once, _________ puts her hand out toward him. Her hand is the same size as Nat’s, but it doesn’t have a tattoo of a star, split into shards. But it’s then Bucky realises that if that’s the hand she’s given him, that means…

Nat shakes her head. “See? He can’t even call his social life shots.” She scoffs, but as she flashes ________ one of her priceless, pseudo-seductress smiles that led many a person into her bed, she also shares a weak look of acquiescence with him, as if to say oh my freaking dog I’m so sorry I forgot.

“Wait, you’re James Barnes?” She repeats the name Nat had given. “I’ve heard so much about you! I’m sort of a friend with Steve. He likes to come and watch us practice.” At this, she flags down the bartender, and after she orders something too sweet, too bubbly, and too alcoholic for the meds he’s on, adds, “He’s always chatty after practice.”

Bucky raises a brow. “Practice? Is that where you’re always running to?”

________ laughs. He’s not sure if he’s drunk already, or that it’s the nicest laugh he’s ever heard, and he’s heard a few dozen people in his life time laugh at him. She tilts her head back, her (h/l) (h/c) hair falling everywhere, but it doesn’t look messy. It looks like art.

Yep. He’s probably drunk.

“I’d have thought you’d have figured out by now,” she titters, “I’m a dancer. Bachelor’s degree.”

Bucky takes a swig of his drink, processing. It explained the leotard. Just not the fact that she was always running late. “Dancer?” He muses, but the words probably come out less than elegant. “Like West Side Story?”

Nat chuckles. “Yeah, buddy, like West Side Story.” From her grungy wallet, she whips out cash to pay for _______’s drink, and a tip for the bartender whose brow sweat Bucky can relate to on almost a spiritual level. “Alright. While you two keep chatting up, I have a booty call to attend to.” She winks at him, and ascends from the barstool like she’s an otherworldly being and not the 5”3 crimson horror.

But all the wit has left him for the night, and as ________ claims Nat’s stool, all he can think about is the assignment that needs to happen as soon as possible, and that he used to be able to sing the alphabet backwards as a kid.

“So, you know Steve?” he stammers. He sounds like a fourteen-year-old in his adult body, but the words have already left his lips, and there’s no going back. What happened to the suave as midnight, rotten-to-the-core punk Bucky the world knew him as?

She nods. “Yeah. I didn’t realise we took Professor May’s portraiture together until the seating arrangement changed, but yes. He practices form when we’re dancing.” She takes sips between sentences, acting more her age than Bucky sure is. An afterthought, she adds, “I probably should work on my project…”

Buck nods. Before he’d run off and joined the army, Steve was a budding artist, scraping pennies to go to school and try to learn more about the whole business. On some whim, the army had taken him in, and in return for his tours (where he’d not gotten his arm blown off, lucky bastard) the military paid for his education. Neat deal.

“So, how long have you known Steve?” She asks.

He stops to think, but not long enough to remember how drunk he really is, and what that does to the filter he doesn’t have. “I can’t remember. Forever? We were in the same day-care.” He blurts.

“Nat was wrong about you, James.” She considers aloud, tipping the last of her glass up. “You’re sure as hell not an idiot.”

 ---

As usual, it was a Wednesday, but instead of studying in class like he was supposed to, he wasn’t. Well, nobody was, their professor had texted everyone a picture of an overflowing toilet with the text beneath reading can’t teach gotta stop an impromptu swimming pool. But still, old habits die hard, and he sat in the room like always, flicking through his phone trying to find a joke he’d jotted down after dreaming out it, wanting to bring it up next time he saw Steve. His pal was always hanging out with new crowds, like the hippy Wanda, and her athlete brother, and the smartass Tony who built his first computer when Bucky was still in nappies.

But it was a Wednesday. And every Wednesday, without fail, Nat’s friend _________ would run through the conjoined classrooms in E Block, regardless if advanced physics was on or not. Upon ruminating this, he heard the door push forward, and the patter of her feet as she fled through the rooms.

Curious, and for once, not distracted by the beauty of crazy maths that took his mind off the shitty realities of life after service, and able to follow, he did. His clunky boots were as quiet as they could be, as he threaded his way behind her, tracing her footsteps toward the F Block where he knew the physically-artsy people did their things. As he entered the dance room, obeying the sign to take off all shoes with hard soles before standing on the sprung floor. But when he saw the group that congregated in the centre, his breath was taken away.

In her black leotard, and tights, ________ was at the forefront of the dance troupe, surrounded by junior students, all kitted out in the standard pearl-white outfits anyone thinks of when picturing ballerina. They all follow her lead on the bar while the professor looked on from near where he stood. Bucky wasn’t a cultured kind of guy – perhaps the most culture he got sometimes was the fact that his clothes were made overseas, and he drank orange juice from a few states over, and ate tacos occasionally – but he could say for certain that he’d never gone to see people dance. He was rubbish at dancing himself, and moved like a sardine who’d escaped the tin on the supermarket shelf when there was music to dance to, but he wasn’t an idiot. _______, and the rest of the dancers moved like air was water, and they were swans, masters of both.

“Are you another student from Melinda’s art class?” The professor has her sleek hair pulled into a fashionable bun, eyes alert, makeup simple, yet elegant. “I don’t think I can handle another one like him watching the dancers, they get distracted when there’s handsome boys about.”

Bucky feels his face heat up. “I’m – I don’t take art, I’m a computer science student. I’m – just watching ________. A friend.” He tells the professor hurriedly, and adds, “Handsome?”

She waves the word off, almost swatting it so it flies away. “Kids these days find everyone good-looking for anything. I assume you’re quite the lady-killer from the hairstyle alone,” It sounds like a joke, and Bucky laughs. “So, computer science student watching ________ dance, what really brings you here? Youth are always chasing love these days. I suppose you are too?”

His face reddens. “I – I think I like her?” It sounds like a question. He isn’t sure if it’s supposed to be a question. “I was a bit curious as what a dancer did.”

The professor frowns. “They dance, computer science student. But that’s not all. You are a book, and I am reading you.”

“I was also going to ask her if she liked to drink coffee sometime soon,” He admits. He’s not sure why, but this professor of the dancing department has some serious vibes that make him want to spill all the beans. Bucky glances to ________, watching her as she leads the dancers into the centre of the room, executing a fancy twirl he doesn’t know the name of. He frowns, and turns back to the professor, his not-prosthetic out to shake her hand, “Bucky Barnes. And you are?”

She grins. “Professor Cho. And I know that ______ is free tomorrow after class – same time as today – and likes drinking coffee a little��too much.” At this, she claps her hands, and the dancers disband, and walk toward where they keep their bags, and sip water. “_______! Barnes wishes to take you to grab coffee. Tomorrow okay?” She calls out.

“Sure!” She calls out, going to her own bag. “See you then, James!”

 ---

Tomorrow comes faster than he can stop. It’s crazy. If he texted Nat to say he had a date, she’d freak out and call him more names than he could handle, or if Steve caught wind of the fact he was doing something other than playing around with his laptop, he’d tell Sam, and then everyone would know because Sam probably hated his guts (he wasn’t sure if that was true or not, but acting like an ass to Sam and Sam acting like one back just became the parameters of their not-quite-friendship).  So, he keeps it quiet. He showers. He washes his clothes, even using the dryer on campus. He looks at the prosthesis before fitting it for the day, and contemplates that discussion. But his classes rush by like a train going through Siberia, and then boom! he’s waiting outside of F Block, one hand over his messenger bag, other in heaven, R. I. P. hand.

“Hey, stranger,” ______ greets, and guides him by his good elbow in the direction of the campus coffee shop. “Let’s get coffee.”

He nods, and starts on the process of making small talk. “I had no idea what was going on yesterday. Your professor, she’s nice.”

_______ nods. “Yeah, Helen’s great. She was the youngest professor to teach here in fifty years, and she once danced on Broadway!” She beams, and adds in a lower voice, “Sorry for Professor Cho. She overheard I was going to ask you and insisted. Like, didn’t-take-no-for-an-answer insisting. She’s nice, once you get to know her.”

He understands. “It’s all good.”

A beat passes between them, and she adds, “So, at the bar you said you knew Steve since you were practically foetus, and Nat tells me you’ve known each other for years.” Bucky has a sinking feeling that he knows what’s coming next. Even though he’s hardcore and hardly ever cries (that much anymore) and paints his eyes black for concerts, he’s dreading the next words that come from her mouth. The words, they’re practically predestined to happen.

You always been one-handed?

“So?” he prompts, tempting fate.

She shrugs. “I can never get friends to stay with me long enough like that,” she plays with the quick beside on her fingernails, and chews upon her lip. “You’re a lucky guy. I’ll kill to have a squad like that.”

He frowns. “Is that what the kids are calling their friends these days?” he jokes, knowing full well of the language. _______ barks out a laugh – the sort of laugh that if she’d been drinking, would have spouted all of it from her nostrils like a sort of whale. Bucky’s sigh inwardly takes days off his life as he wonders why he likened the girl he likes to a whale.

“We’re here,” he notes.

The coffee shop on campus is always teeming, full of those hipsters with odd tattoos that look like they’ve been downloaded from C list celebrities and onto their skin. Bucky isn’t fond of the coffee shop. He isn’t fond of coffee. But he drinks it. Everyone drinks it, even those who say they don’t. The last time he had been in had been a year ago and he’d gotten a nice croissant and donated money to the rescue dog fund by the cash register.

“Hey, I’ll order, and you stay here. Flat white cappuccino?” She asks, and adds, “Yay or nay?”

Bucky nods. “Yay. I’ll pay you back.”

Walking off, ______ shakes her head. “You can buy next date.”

His face is warm. Date.

 ---

His roommate had spilled energy drink over his posters when he was supposed to go out. It was a Thursday, and about three or four (or five?) months after the first date he’d had with _______, drinking mediocre coffee and walking around the campus. He was supposed to be helping with something to do with an art project, but he wasn’t sure if it was a naked model sort of gig or pasting-sequins-and-glitter-everywhere sort of gig, and he was supposed to be meeting _______ by the fountain downstairs three minutes ago.

But there was guava-smelling crap all over Jimmy Hendrix and Peaches. And the dorm door opened.

“Babe,” ______’s voice sounded pained, but as he glanced over his shoulder, he saw that she could see the tragedy of the pair of rock stars, and bent to help. Her hand brushed his, but not the one he could feel from. At this, Bucky couldn’t help it, he moved his hand away. _______ frowned. “James, what is it?”

He shakes his head, his other hand dropping the towel that too smelt of guava energy drink. “Not …. Not that hand. Please.” It was almost him pleading. If only the other goths and punks from the bar that knew him as Bucky “Take No Shit” Barnes could see him now. “I –,”

“I know you have a prosthetic,” she blurted, face reddening by the stain of blush that spread like ink upon water. “I saw Steve’s sketchbook, the drawings of your arm. He was very tipsy, and he told me about it. Sorry, I didn’t want you to know I knew from him, because he’s your best friend and all, but, it doesn’t make me feel any different about you.”

He sits there. The fear that has been chasing him for months has suddenly died and now it’s sort of empty in his head. All those intrusive thoughts – poof! Gone.

“Did he say how?” He wonders.

She shakes her head. “No, he threw up on me before he got to that.” ______ takes his hand, the one they had issued to him, and in with her other hand, takes his. Her gaze is unrelenting, static, gorgeous. Damn. He might even be in love. “Dude. Say something.”

Bucky takes a breath. “Can we raincheck the art project?” He asks.

______ nods. “Yeah. Can we cuddle for like, twenty-four hours straight?” She asks.

Bucky takes a moment to consider. “It sounds impractical, but I’m up for it,” he rises, glancing to his unmade bed, strewn with all sorts of stupid comforters, and pillows he loves. “and after, I’m paying for coffee?”

_______ beams. “And I’ll pay for new posters.”

 ---

It turns out that if you don’t pay attention in class, you can notice things others are blind to. Almost like seeing fairies, or little secrets you share with the world. James “Bucky” Barnes, the punk ex-military computer science student wasn’t fond of advanced physics. He was fond of sci-fi and warm patches of sunlight with chairs to soak up the morning in and someone else’s brain to relate to after all the crazy shit he’d been through.

It so turns out that if one doesn’t pay much attention in class, they can notice the girl who runs through E Block, runs through the world, and right into their brain. The person who’s naïve, but wise, punk, but loving, fantastic, and dorky…all at once.

It turns out that soulmates aren’t real. It’s just a story to help you sleep at night. But if Bucky Barnes had ten bucks on anything, he’d bet that his girl, the girl who ran right into his head and caught on hold of his heart, was his soulmate.

[1soos]

Works in Progress Tag

I was tagged by @wenotes Ren, you’re my favorite Sailor Scout. 

It took me so long to do this.

I’ve only done 6 wips here because it got too long and some of my other wips are too embarrassing to expose rn.

Series

Magnets: untitled chapter 2 – jikook – mechanic!jungkook, dance major!jimin…sort of

Rated: M

a/n: the first chapter was for a fic exchange on ao3 and this chapter is because I found I had more to say. I literally just started writing this the other day. I’ll post this one on ao3 once it’s done.

Dating is a concept with which Jungkook is wholly unfamiliar. He’d dated briefly in high school, but that had been more camouflage and self-preservation than an actual relationship. He has no first-hand experience, no idea how things like this are supposed to progress. Of course, he’d seen fictional relationships play out on television, but right now they seem thoroughly unhelpful. Jungkook wasn’t an assassin who vowed to protect Jimin from a contract killing or a supernatural being who learns what it means to be human through Jimin’s attention. He’s utterly himself.

 Just Jungkook. Who avoids all conversations that revolved around colleges or a future that he can’t afford; who works as an apprentice mechanic in a family friend’s garage most of the week and paints houses with his dad during the days left over and danced or drew at night; who is so painfully shy and in his own head that he would have never talked to the boy he’d wanted from afar for so long if he hadn’t spoken to Jungkook first.

 He feels horribly inadequate beside this boy that people wanted to be around; who goes to college; who is in an actual dance troupe; who has a future outside of this city; who managed to make himself so precious to Jungkook in so short a time.

 Jungkook is terrified that it’s only a matter of time before Jimin realizes how much he’s lacking. He’s been trying to prove his worth from the moment Jimin woke up with a raging hangover the morning after their impromptu field trip.

  Tentative title: A Fish Tale – mermaid!yoongi part 1 – Yoongi x reader

Rated: PG-13

a/n: I’ve been working on this since June (?) and I keep getting stuck. Tbh looking at it now, this will probably turn out to be more of an info sheet for me to use while writing the actual thing.

Watching Jungkook had always been your job; to make sure he was safe while he discovered the outside world. Had been your job since he was a baby just learning to splash in the little pools of ocean water, learning to love the water and the life in it’s great blue depths from the relative safety of the tide pools. It was necessary for the young to be assigned protectors. To make sure that he stayed in your sight always, too many children had wondered too far out and been lost forever to those who loved them on land. Elders in the community, not wanting everyone to be afraid of the water that surrounded them on all sides and brought them joy as well as despair, tell stories of a race of liminal creatures that would find the lost children and raise them as their own. A fish tale, really, that no one believed past their tenth year.

You are well past your tenth year and so is Jungkook, but the watching had become a habit. After all, death by drowning didn’t only happen to children and just moments ago, he’d dived under the crystal waves to scavenge who knows what. And though you trust him to resurface, flipping his hair back, gulping air like his lungs were going to burst if he’d stayed under a moment longer, you still hold your breath with heart beating fast. It’s better than when you counted the seconds, though; every mounting moment an illustrated and numbered anxiety.

You don’t go in the water. You won’t. That’s why Jungkook started scavenging in the first place, to bring the ocean to you, he’d said. They were always beautiful, always the best of what the ocean had to offer. It’s a rule of the island that you aren’t allowed to fish individually, for food, but especially not for sport. It is a rule that you and Jungkook know all too well with a council member for a mother and a fisher for a father. So, when the thing is living, Jungkook won’t leave the water with it and you must get as close to the water line as you dare to view whatever miraculous creature he’d discovered that day.

You’re thinking of a particular day when Jungkook was young and brought back a horseshoe crab. You called it ugly and he scolded you, saying that he was sure that to other horseshoe crabs it was very appealing. You’d smiled and agreed and Jungkook set it free, giggling as it scuttled away.

 Prequel: The Wrong Girl – vigilante!au – Hoseok x OFC

Rated: M for thematic elements, action, cursing, and future smut

a/n: so this is kind of a cheat. I’ve posted this elsewhere, and I haven’t touched it to work on it in 7 (!!!) months, but I suddenly got inspired to re-write some of it and continue to write in this au, so I’ll probably start posting these soon. Here’s a bit of the prologue.

“You’ve got the wrong girl.”

“Oh, I don’t think so. I think you’re exactly who I want.”

“You don’t want to do this.”

“I really, really do though.” He steps toward her with his hands out, ready to grab at whatever part of her body he can reach. “You thought you could take what’s mine and I would just let you? Is that what you thought?”

She doesn’t say anything; she just lifts up her hands in front of her, palms facing the thickly muscled man approaching her.

“Oh sweetheart,” he says, voice dripping with condescension, “are you going to beg now?” A terrifying toothy grin spreads its way across the man’s face and he takes another step toward her. “If you give back what you took, I promise you’ll make it out of here alive.”

She makes her eyes go wide and her mouth tremble and pout. “You promise?”

He smiles like he knows he’s got her. He raises his right hand and looks skyward and says, “I promise.”

She swallows, but she sets her jaw and her eyes narrow. “Bullshit. I’m not telling you where they are. They’re people, not objects. And even if I did, there’s no way you’d let me live. You’re gonna have to kill me.”

“Baby, baby, baby—“he accents every ‘baby’ with a shake of his head—“I’m not going to kill you. First, I’m going to make you tell me where they are—“he laughs wickedly, eyes still running over her slowly—“oh, it’s going to be so painful, I honestly don’t think you’ll last very long, and then I’m going to add you to the squirming pile of peddled flesh before I send it to my buyer.”

She wants to vomit. Why did he have to be one of those grossly verbose bad guys? She wished he’d hurry up and make his move, mostly so this cliché exchange could end. She was getting tired of waiting. She can’t attack, not when she’s so much smaller than him. She needs to wait, keep surprise on her side and then use his own momentum and weight against him.

His steps forward are slow, like he’s trying to lull her into a false sense of security. He wants her to stay where she is so when he decides to grab her she won’t be quick enough to get away, but that’s exactly what she wants. She wants him close.

God, I almost wish I believed in guns. This shit would be over so much faster.

Suddenly, he’s so close to her she could probably see her reflection in his enormous white teeth if such a thing were possible. Her heart speeds up and she can feel the adrenaline pumping through her veins. She’s careful not to tense too soon; she doesn’t want to telegraph her moves, but it’s a delicate balance. If she waits too long, he’ll be on her and then there’s not much she can do.

Then she sees the look in his eye. From the very beginning of their encounter, he’d been carefully controlling his face and eyes, it was almost terrifying how calm and affable he’d been about the whole thing (the ‘whole thing’ being a random woman showing up and freeing 20 people from a metal shipping container and a life of sex slavery and then leading him on a merry chase at the shipyard where shit like this always seems to take place). Now, she catches a glimpse of the evil bubbling underneath and for the first time that night, she is truly afraid. He comes for her and she hesitates.

A shot rings out and the man crumples into a pile before her.

 Power!au – EXO – Yixing x Reader

Rated: M for thematic elements, action, cursing, and eventual smut

a/n: I’m going to be really honest and say that I don’t really like this. I’ve re-written it 3 times and I can’t manage to get it the way I want it and it’s super frustrating. This is from the first draft, because I tried to switch it from ‘reader’ to first person limited and wow, I suck at that.

When your friends told you they were planning a trip to the mountains and asked you to come along, you were hesitant. You got that feeling in the pit of your stomach. They called you afraid and scared-y cat and chicken shit, but that’s not it. Not all of it.

How do you explain that you know something bad is going to happen, that you have always known when something bad is going to happen? It was like an extra sense or a heightened Fight or Flight response or something.

But then your brother was going and there was no way you were letting him go without you.

“You never do anything fun,” he’d said. You’d argued and begged him not to go, but he’s one of those people that you don’t want to say no to. He’s always chasing the next rush and you are almost always beside him when he does it, just in case.

  Series? One-shot? Who knows??

 Ghost!au – BTS all members vs. a ghost investigation team

Rated: ??? probably PG-13 unless something happens and I change the way this is going before I get too far.

a/n: I started this while I was sick and all I wanted was to watch Most Haunted and sleep. I have another ghost!au idea that’s totally different and will be with a different group, but I haven’t written anything down about it other than notes, so. Also, this is literally everything I’ve written for this one.

“Hello? Is there anybody here that would like to talk to us? One for yes and two for no.” The woman tells the people around her to stop talking as she cocks her head to one side to listen for an answer.

Several knocks are heard from several areas in the room, but the woman hardly bats an eye, other members of her team are not so composed, before saying, “One at a time, please. Can one of you tap out how many people are in this room?” She tucks her hair behind her ear and assumes a look of intense concentration as the rest of the crew tense up to count.

The scene is almost comical, five grown adults standing in a loose circle, looking everywhere but at each other, all mouthing along to a barely audible tattoo. It’s the kind of atmosphere that breeds the nervous laughter that is usually found at funerals and weddings and other functions where you are expected to observe a level of reflective decorum, if only the tension would break.

But it only builds alongside the ascending number of knocks.

The woman finally lets out a breath and looks to another woman beside her. “Twelve. I heard twelve.”

The other woman, with wide eyes and hand gripping a chunky metal cross around her neck, agrees.

A man with a camera speaks for the first time since entering the room. “Including us?”

One knock.

“Oh jesus, okay, so seven.” He wipes the sweat that’s gathered on his forehead and giggles along with his camera carrying companions.

It’s infectious and soon everyone is snickering and poking at their neighbor, each telling another that they should have seen the look on their face.

Finally, the woman in charge says, “Seven is a lot, especially for a house that isn’t very large or even very old, but we can work with it.” She rubs her hands together, more warmth than anything else before she asks the most important question: “Do any of you want to cause any of us harm?”

The knocks that had been so forthcoming previously were eerily absent. The group waits, but after a few minutes of silence, they decide that the whoever was there before must have moved on to different rooms.

However, the air of indecision presses down on them, like the spirits might hurt them if they felt like it. That feeling has the woman shaking in her boots, not that she’d let them see that, not yet anyway, when there hasn’t been any action beyond basic communication, but if they started throwing shit, showing poltergeist activity, then she’d be perfectly willing to lose her shit in front of everyone, she’s not about to open the door to real harm.

  Drabbles

 Vampire!jinyoung 4 – Jinyoung x Reader sort of.

Rated: R for cursing and thematic elements

a/n: so I’ve only posted one of my vampire!jinyoung drabbles, but I have a few planned out and there are 2 between this one and the first one where I know what I want to happen, I just haven’t written them yet.

 You were lying lazily across your sofa. The book you’d initially been so excited to read, had suddenly lost your interest and you are moments away from slipping quietly into sleep.

The next time you open your eyes, you’re in total darkness. You groan as you stretch. That was definitely more of a sleep than a nap.

You get up and stumble your way to the light switch, putting your hand over your eyes before flicking upward and bathing the room in sharp, white light. You slowly move you hand away from your eyes, letting it reach you in manageable bits.

Blinking and squinting rapidly, you barely register the top of a dark head of hair peeking over the top of your favorite chair, but then that head moves and you let out an undignified shriek.

He turns and looks at you quizzically while you rub your hand over your heart.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” In the dark…with me? You add in your head.

“Were you watching me sleep? That’s…actually really creepy, Jinyoung. Why didn’t you wake me up?”

“The thought did occur to me.” And that’s all he says on the subject. You know because you wait for him to give you some kind of explanation or even a half-assed apology, but he remains silent.

You rub your hands over your eyes trying to rid them of residual sleep. “Whatever. Why are you here? I didn’t think you’d come back after last time.”

“Why would I not come back? I like our talks.”

“Really?” he could have fooled you. When he wasn’t talking down to you or sneering at humanity in general, he was standoffish or at best indifferent. He never asked you questions about yourself which hadn’t bothered you at first because you were so caught up in unravelling the mystery of the vampire, but now you’re getting pretty tired of how one sided whatever this is, is.

“Of course. It’s the highlight of my existence.” You can’t tell if he’s being sarcastic or not and to be honest, you’re kind of fed up with the whole thing.

“Did you need something, Jinyoung?”

 Honorable Mentions aka stories that I know I’m going to write, but haven’t started yet:

 70s New York City power outage!au – crossover fic – will be told from several perspectives

 A slice of life, domestic!jennie one shot for my girl, Lex. I have a ton of notes for this fic, I honestly don’t know why I haven’t started writing it?

 Ghost!jongin – Jongin x Reader – reader is a single mom and Jongin protects them from evil spirts in their home.

I’m sorry, I know I said that I would do this yesterday and I totally planned on it, but I forgot my laptop at home. 

Anyway, I tag: @boymeetsweevil, @jeonalis, @94hixtape, @sugasweetsubs, @denouemin, @hobijoon, @lilyjhs, @minmelly

[jlalafics]

Dylan is about to get into the plan...

I actually updated! Yay me!

Summary: Beatrice Everdeen-Carter and Ramona Mellark, two friends with one mission–to get their parents together. Modern AU Everlark.

Part Eight is now available below the cut!

You can read all other parts here:

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

Part Five

Part Six

Part Seven

The Family Plan

Part Eight

Quietly closing the door behind her, Katniss walked slowly towards the stairwell. She had intended to be out earlier, but several kisses from Peeta had left her sneaking out of his bedroom later than she wanted. Bea and Dylan would be getting back from Cato’s by noon and Katniss needed to make the house look like she actually hung out there.

“Don’t forget your coat downstairs.” She whipped around to see Ramona at her bedroom doorway, arms crossed and a devilish smirk upon her pink lips. “It’s cold out there.”

Katniss sighed and shook her head, resigned at being caught.

“How long have you known about me sleeping over?”

Ramona put a finger to her chin. “We’ve known since after Halloween.”

Katniss approached her warily. “We?”

“Bea left something at the house during her weekend with Mr. Carter after Halloween,” Ramona informed her. “You weren’t home and so she figured that you were here with us. You always leave your coat downstairs before sneaking into Dad’s room and it’s gone by at least ten—so we figured that you wanted to keep it a secret.”

She counted quickly before meeting Ramona’s amused blues. “That was nearly four months ago!”

The young girl giggled. “It’s okay, Katniss! We’re happy for you…me and Bea…though I think that Dill is still a little young to understand grown-up sleepovers.”

“We should talk,” Katniss said, leading the girl into her room. Ramona went to her neatly made bed as Katniss joined her. “Sweetie, are you okay with this? Better yet, do you understand what a ‘grown-up sleepover’ is?”

“First of all, yes. We’re totally okay with this. Bea used to worry that you were lonely when she and Dill were with Mr. Carter,” Ramona explained. Katniss smiled at her words. “Second, it means sex.”

She nearly choked at Ramona’s statement.

“I mean, I don’t understand the logistics or need for it besides procreation,” the girl mused. “But, I’m sure it’s one of those things that I’ll understand when I’m older.”

“Like, when you’re thirty.”

Ramona grinned. “Twenty.”

Katniss shook her head. “Twenty-five.”

“How about we meet at twenty-two?” Ramona countered. “I’ll be out of college or peaked in my dance troupe. Sex might just be the next thing I’ll need to learn.”

“I don’t think I like how cavalier you sound when you say sex,” Katniss told her. “But you’re right. Sex is definitely something that needs to be understood and learned when you’ve gotten your feet a little more wet…pardon my words.”

“Obviously, you and Dad enjoy it.” Ramona’s face flushed in embarrassment. “I mean you’re here practically every weekend that Bea and Dill are at their Dad’s.”

Katniss nodded. “Well…what can I say?” She took a breath before seeing Ramona’s curious gaze. “It’s not all about the sex.”

“I know,” Ramona replied. “There’s no need to sneak about. We understand…to an extent. It makes us happy that you and Dad are happy together. Because we care…and love you.”

The young girl went silent, her eyes darting to her bright comforter. A maternal warmth rushed through Katniss’ chest; she knew what Ramona really meant to say.

“Your father and I love you, too.” She gathered Ramona into her arms, pressing a kiss to her soft, golden hair. “So, so much.” They remained, quiet and content, for a few moments—before Ramona’s stomach rumbled. “How about I make you waffles?”

“I love waffles,” Ramona declared as they both walked out of the room. “I mean, you two were up pretty late last night…”

Katniss put an arm around her shoulders. “How about I add in some bacon?”

Ramona nodded, moving closer to the woman. “This is why Dad and I love you so much.”

++++++

‘I caught your Mom sneaking out of Dad’s. She finally fessed up. Got some waffles out of it.’

‘Finally! Mom is not at all discreet. Where are they now?’

‘Making goo-goo eyes at each other at the breakfast table. We really need to figure out a way to get us all in one house!’

‘I second that!’

‘Dad’s calling me…better go. See you later?’

‘Yes! See you soon, sis!’

“What’s going on?” Beatrice looked up to find her Dad placing a plate of corned beef hash in front of her. “Ramona’s up?”

“Yeah. Mom finally blew her cover and got caught at Peeta’s,” she said as she dug into her plate. “It’s been months, so I’m finally relieved. It’s not getting us any closer to bringing all of us under one house, though.”

Cato pulled out the chair next to her, pouring himself a cup of coffee from the pot on the table.

“Bea, do you understand what’s happening?”

Beatrice took another bite of her breakfast before replying, “Yeah—sex.”

Cato nearly choked while sipping his drink. “I was not ready for you to say that!”

“Dad, we live in the age of Tinder, Tumblr, and sexting,” she relayed easily. “We’re going to know what sleepovers mean.”

“Yes, you know what it means,” Cato said. “But, there are a lot of different varying degrees when it comes to…” He scrunched his face, pushing the word out like an unpleasant taste. “…sex.” Beatrice looked to him in interest. “There’s more to it. There’s emotions…and passion…and discussions…I know your mother, Bea. There was a reason that you are probably just getting the lowdown.”

“Mom wants to shield us…maybe shield herself.” Beatrice took a small bite before reaching to drink from her glass of orange juice. “I know Mom, too. She loves Peeta, but she’s scared…because he might love her back just as intensely.”

Cato took another gulp of his coffee. “He loves her.”

“And, how do you know that?”

“That look in his eyes,” her father replied in a far-off voice. “It’s the same way your grandfather used to look at your grandmother—your mom’s parents, I mean.”

His parents were not the best example of familial nor marital love. There were fights and accusations then, to his relief, a divorce. Cato admired the love between the elder Everdeens so much that perhaps he had hoped that his own marriage would be the same way. However, neither he nor Katniss realized that a marriage needed more than love to keep it going.

“Oh yeah…Pop and Gams always have that doofy look about them,” Beatrice said thoughtfully. “You and Mom never did.”

“I agree.” Cato covered his daughter’s hand with his own. “But I love her in my own way—as your mother.”

“How about you and Glimmer?”

He felt his face warm. “That is a whole other story.”

++++++

“So sis, what is going on with Valentine’s Day?” Prim inquired as she painted her niece’s nails. She winked at Beatrice before going back to putting the garish pink polish on. “You and Peeta doing it up big?”

Katniss, who was looking over art commissions on her computer, furrowed her brows.

“We haven’t really talked about it,” she replied off-handedly. “I don’t know if I’m that kind of person, anyway.”

“You’re totally that kind of person,” her sister retorted. “You—who makes heart-shaped pancakes and handmade Valentines?” She pulled away and smiled at Beatrice. “There you go sweets! Nice and festive…maybe you should go show Jamie.”

“Yeah, so he’ll see just what I’m going to scratch his eyes out with if he gets near me,” Beatrice huffed. “I’ll be back!”

The young girl rushed out of the living room and up the stairs.

“Don’t say those things to her,” Katniss reprimanded her sister. “She is still so young.”

“Ramona is the same age and didn’t you speak to her about the ol’ humpty-dumpty?” Prim retorted. “And, I know that you’ve already talked to Bea about it.”

“I talked to you about it and look how you turned out,” Katniss groused, her eyes going back to the screen.

“I’m perfectly daisy-fresh,” Prim preened, batting her long lashes at Katniss. “However, if you’re going to antagonize me, then maybe I won’t babysit on Valentine’s Day.”

Katniss bit her lip. “Maybe, you won’t need to.”

++++++

‘SOS!’

Ramona quickly typed back: ‘What’s going on?’

‘Please tell me that your Dad has something planned for Valentine’s Day!’

Closing her book, she rushed out of her room and went down the hall to her father’s studio. “Dad!” She knocked on the door. “Open the door, please!”

There was a shuffle and the rushed unlocking of the door. Peeta widened it quickly, letting Ramona in. “What’s wrong?”

“Dad, did you plan anything for Valentine’s Day?” she panicked.

Her father grinned. “Is this what has you all in a tizzy?”

“Yes!” Ramona practically jumped. “Every girl knows how important that day is!”

“Is this about Cameron?” Peeta teased.

Ramona stepped back, trying to hide her blush. “We are not talking about him. We are talking about you, Dad.”

“Well…” Going to her, Peeta turned her around and placed his hands on her shoulders. He led her to the back of the room to present the canvas to her. “…what do you think I was doing?”

“Dad, it’s perfect!” Ramona turned to hug him. “Katniss is going to love it!” She quickly took a photo. “I’m sending this to Bea!”

“I’m not quite finished with it yet,” her father said sheepishly. “But, I heard that Katniss is really into homemade Valentines.”

Ramona grinned, tears filling her eyes. “This is so sweet!” Her eyes went back to the canvas. “You really love her, don’t you?”

Peeta put an arm around his daughter, pressing a kiss to her temple.

“I do.”

++++++

Beatrice smiled down at the photo on her phone.

The canvas painting was a large heart, made of purples, reds, and blues.

To her, it looked how love must feel: passionate, fiery, and true.

This was the kind of love that her grandparents gave one another; the kind that Peeta looked at her mother with, the kind that her parents could never really grasp.

She typed back to her Ramona: ‘Sis, it’s perfect.’

++++++

“I’m here!” Prim slammed the front door with a flourish, beaming at Beatrice and Dylan who had rushed over to greet her. “Y’all ready to party?”

“Primrose Everdeen.” Katniss walked down the stairs, putting her other earring on, as she stepped onto the carpet. “You’re going to be at Peeta’s house. Please make sure the kids are good…” Her eyes went to Dylan sans bra on his head, but wearing a metal colander as a helmet and Beatrice smiling just a little too brightly. “…as good as they can be.”

Prim picked up Dylan, letting him wrap his legs around her waist. “They’ll be good as gold. I promise.”

“You look so pretty, Mom!” Beatrice rushed over to her, giving her a hug. “The LBD is really working for you.”

Katniss had gone out of her comfort zone, on her sister’s suggestion, and bought the black body-con dress with lace bottom. The look was completed with a pair of stilettos that nearly made her faint when the salesperson told her the total. Bea had done her hair, giving her shapely waves, as she did her own makeup.

“Thanks love,” she replied. “When you’re appropriately old enough, you can wear this dress.”

“And, when will that be?”

“When I’m old enough to take my teeth out,” Katniss said. Beatrice giggled at her words. “Fine…after my first hip replacement.”

The doorbell rang and Dylan screamed before scrambling out of Prim’s arms to answer the door.

“PEETA! RAM-RAM!”

“Hey son!” Peeta picked Dylan up, knocking on the metal colander. “What’s going on here?”

“Special communication helmet, of course,” Dylan replied.

Beatrice went to Ramona, giving her a hug. “When did you become ‘Ram-Ram’?”

“Since I got him that book about Area 51 for Christmas,” Ramona informed her friend. “He gave me the name so the aliens would think I’m one of them during the invasion.”

“Good to know you’re so protected,” Beatrice replied. Her eyes went to their parents. “Look at that…”

The look in Peeta’s eyes was full gazing at Katniss. He whispered in her ear, his hand lightly resting on her slender waist, before she pulled away to do a little twirl to show off her hard work. They looked as if they were in their own little world and content to be there.

Her Aunt went to her and Ramona, grinning conspiratorially.

“I have a bet going with Glimmer and your father, Bea.” She put an arm around each of their shoulders. “That these two get engaged by the end of the year.”

“I’d say that they’re married before then,” Ramona countered.

“We still have to find a way to get us all under one roof,” Beatrice responded.

“Hey Prim!” They looked to Peeta, dressed in a perfectly fitted navy suit. He threw a set of keys in her direction. “Keys to the car and the house. I left some money for pizza in the living room and you’re welcome to anything else in the fridge.”

“There’s not much,” Ramona said with a chuckle. “Maybe, we can stop by a grocery store?”

Peeta nodded in agreement. Reaching into his wallet, he handed a credit card to Prim.

“Just in case you need extra.”

“Like an extra Gucci purse?” Prim batted her lashes at him. “I mean, you’re going to marry my sister.”

“Not without the kids there,” Peeta replied without batting an eyelash. “We have reservations so you better get going.” He moved towards the door, opening it for the group. “We’ll see you later tonight.”

“We get it—grown-up stuff,” Beatrice said with a smile. She went to her mother, giving her a hug then hugging Peeta. “Show her a good time.”

“I will. She deserves it,” he replied. Ramona approached after saying goodbye to Katniss. “You’re in charge tonight.”

“Don’t worry, everything will be fine,” his daughter said. “Have fun, Dad.”

The group left in a flurry of waves and happy shouts, slamming the door behind them.

Katniss walked to the door, locking it before turning to Peeta.

“So…where are we going for dinner?”

Reaching, he wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her close before pressing his mouth to hers. His hands skimmed her sides, savoring graceful curves and the thin cloth of her dress. Katniss moaned, deepening their kiss, and pressing Peeta closer.

“Should we go to dinner?” he asked breathlessly as they pulled apart.

Katniss grinned. “I am a great lover of pizza.”

Peeta laughed huskily. “Funny. So am I.”

“I’ll make the call,” Katniss said, going to the entryway table where her cellphone was. However, she was yanked back into Peeta’s arms. “Yes?”

“I don’t think you want to eat pizza in that dress,” he told her.

She grinned before turning so her back faced him.

“Help me out of it?”

Peeta nodded before reaching for zipper.

++++++

“This is your house?” Prim’s bright eyes stared at the home in wonderment. “Kudos, Ramona!”

“I like Bea and Dill’s place better,” Ramona declared, her arm going around her best friend’s shoulders. “Too many memories in this place.”

“Well, let’s make some fun memories,” Beatrice told her affectionately. “And, find a way to get us under one roof.”

“No luck so far, huh?” Prim said as they walked up the porch and she unlocked the front door. Dylan pushed the door open, rushing inside and hopping onto the plush couch of the sitting room.

“No.” Ramona shook her head. “It’s hard to find a perfect situation to get us together.”

“Well, how about you two try to think of something that might help while I put the pizza in the oven?” Prim suggested. “I’ll call you two down when the food is ready.” She turned to Dylan, already opening his backpack, full of art supplies. “Chicken fingers for you, baby boy?”

“Yup!” Dylan said cheerfully.

“Do you want to come up with us?” Beatrice asked her brother.

“Nope. I can talk to myself here,” he replied easily.

Ramona giggled, going to him and kissing his cheek.

“Don’t ever change,” she told her pseudo-little brother before following Beatrice up the stairs.

++++++

“Did I say thank you for the painting?” Katniss said as they sat on the couch, pizza cooling on the coffee table. “It’s really beautiful and I can’t believe that you painted it so quickly.”

She had almost burst into the tears when Peeta had brought to her house along with an official invite for Valentine’s. It had been a long time since she had been romanced…actually, it had been a long time for a lot of things.

“I found myself unbelievably inspired,” Peeta replied. His eyes went to the clock on the mantle. “I guess we’ve missed our reservation.”

“We have a house with no children,” Katniss reasoned and he guffawed. “I’ll take that over a five-course dinner any day!”

“I know what you mean. I love them all, but sometimes I appreciate when it’s just us two, you know? Like, I love waking up to you in the morning…or having that quiet moment to hold your hand when the kids are asleep.” She put her head on his shoulder, listening to his soft words. “Do you think you want more?”

“What do you mean?” She shifted on the couch, leaning into him. “Like do I want to get married again? Have more kids?”

“I was asking if you wanted more pizza—” Peeta laughed when she socked his arm. “—but, I think kids would be great.”

“Kids…that’s plural,” Katniss drawled.

Her eyes went to the photos on the mantle. The kids were the greatest joy in her life…and Ramona, she loved her from the moment they met. If she closed her eyes, Katniss could see more photos on that mantle; photos of a new little one in her arms…maybe that little brother that Dylan had wanted.

“It’s a good sort of plural, though,” she continued. “I think, however, that we need to figure out some other logistics.”

Peeta placed a kiss atop her hair. “Like what?”

“Well, you do like waking up to me in the morning.”

++++++

The painting was turning out just the way he wanted.

Dylan loved to create things, stories…buildings like his Daddy…paintings like Peeta-Daddy…

This one was going to go in Mommy’s room, just like the one that Peeta-Daddy made. It was full of reds, pinks, purples…he just needed a bit of green—Mommy’s favorite color—to finish it up. Looking at his paint palette, Dylan discovered that he had run out of green.

Suddenly, an idea zinged into his mind.

Grass was green.

He went to the front door, looking to the lush lawn before grabbing a handful of blades close to the edge of the lawn. Running back into the house, he tossed the bunch into his water cup to swish to make green.

Not quite green…but maybe he needed to mash it up.

Dylan raced to the kitchen where Aunt Prim sat on the tall counter, flipping through a magazine.

“What’s going on?” she asked.

“I need a fork, Aunt Prim!” he said excitedly. “I’m making green!”

“Uh…” Reaching to the drawer next to her, his Aunt produced a fork. “Here you go. Be careful.”

He nodded before heading back to his painting.

Mash…mash…mash…Dylan liked the squishy noises that fork made as he made green in his water cup.

His green wasn’t looking any greener—and there were brown spots all over the carpet!

He remembered that Ramona’s mean mom didn’t like messes. If she came back, Ramona would be in trouble!

His mind searched and remembered that Mommy said that he could always clean up his paints with water—and there was a hose outside. He had seen Daddy clean up the whole porch with it. It would definitely clean up some brown spots!

Going outside, Dylan easily found the hose; it was right on the side of the house, wrapped in a big circle. Pulling it, he raced into the house to put it over the stains…there were a few more now because of his sneakers—but the water would clean it up!

Now all he had to do was turn the hose on.

Back on the grass, Dylan searched for the thingy to make the water flow. He followed the hose until he found its end and the knob. Now he remembered! It needed a twist!

Turning it, he waited to hear the sound of water…nothing. Maybe it needed a few more turns…

“One…two…three…four…five…six…seven…”

One more extra for his upcoming birthday.

There was a definite rush of water now.

Excitedly, Dylan ran across the lawn and back into the house.

There, before his bright eyes, was a large green snake dancing in the sitting room, spraying venomous clear liquid everywhere from its round mouth...all over the walls…on the carpet…and the couch…

But, what happened to the hose?

“DYLAN!” Aunt Prim screeched. “What’s going on?”

There was another rush of steps followed by two high-pitched yelp coming from his sisters.

However, amidst the screaming and his Aunt running out of the house, Dylan’s eyes remained on the dancing, green snake.

He couldn’t wait to tell his friends at school about it.

++++++

The frantic knocking on the door roused the two parents from the couch. Katniss quickly threw on the pair of leggings that had found their way to the floor as Peeta zipped up his pants. She threw on a shirt, which was actually his.

“What’s going on?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” Katniss replied, just barely pulling herself out of her sated stupor.

Together, they went to the front door and Katniss yanked the door open.

“I am so sorry, Peeta!” The first words from a soaked-to-the-bone Prim. “I wasn’t watching him!”

Right behind her, Beatrice and Ramona emerged. Both were drenched, as well—their faces full of exhaustion.

Dylan ran forward excitedly, wet but beaming with exuberance.

“Guess what, Mommy?”

Katniss, looking amongst her family in a daze, gave him a bright smile. “What darling?”

“We killed the snake!” He jumped and his sneakers made a squishing noise. “It got venom all over the sitting room, but Bea and Ram-Ram got buckets and poured it out!”

In a semi-shocked state, Prim handed Peeta her phone. “These pictures can be sent to the insurance company.” She wrung out her hair before bypassing the couple and walking into the house. “I’m going to go dry up—then get my tubes tied.”

“We weren’t watching him either,” Beatrice said in a forlorn voice. “Sorry, Peeta…Mom.”

The noise that came out of Peeta’s mouth, as he looked at Prim’s phone, sounded like he was being held under a chokehold.

“We’ll go dry up, too,” Ramona told the couple. She placed her hands on Dylan’s shoulders to lead him into the house. “Let’s go, little brother.”

Left alone, Katniss looked at the photo on Prim’s screen—the water-soaked living room…the muddy couch, and the various broken knick-knacks on the floor.

“I’m really sorry, Peeta,” she told him. “I’ll talk to Dylan—”

“No, we will talk to Dylan. I need to hear this story.” Peeta turned to her, a chuckle escaping his mouth. “It’s a good thing that we agreed to move in together. This just lifts the burden of deciding which house it was going to be.”

“I still totally owe you,” Katniss replied.

Peeta led them both into the house.

“Yes, you do,” he declared. “The first payment being that you let me get one of those Tempur-Pedic beds for us—no questions asked.”

She nodded. “Deal…anything else?”

“Children—”

Katniss shook her head, laughter escaping her lips. “Oh boy…”

Peeta grinned. “Or, girl.”

He closed the door to their home behind them.

_____________________

Kids say and do the darnedest things…

Next: The big family move-in…more Jamie, Ara, and Cameron—Yay! Along with their parentals.

[thewatermelloncat]

Backstage (Rosénali CH 5)

CH1, CH2, CH3, CH4

Summary: With rehearsals for the school production underway, family matters come into play. Maybe Denali says something that she shouldn’t.

Boarding School AU

Kinda Pastel/Punk AU

Author’s Note: Be on the look out for links to extra stories within the chapters.

Warnings: None

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Circus.

That was the word on everyone’s mind after the theme for the school production had been announced.

The few short weeks before term break had been chaotic, masses of auditions and call backs following only days after the release of the script. And then it had all faded into nothing as the break rolled around and people moved off home to spend time with their families. Though the nerves of what part they would get still stuck with them.

There was only so much playing video games could do to distract Denali from worrying over her future placement in the cast. And having not gone home for the break, Rosé threw herself into picking up extra shifts at the diner. Trying to avoid the lonely hallways of the empty school where her mind would quickly play over all the things she could have done better in her audition.

Still, they found solace in texting each other most days. Sometimes sending a distress signal through the line when they got too in their head about their auditions, in turn for the other would reassure them that it would all be fine in the end. And that was enough to tie them through until the last day of term break.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Denali and Mik’s room is a mess of unorganised clothes and partially empty suitcases as the two of them are helped by Rosé in unpacking.

“Denali, you have too many pairs of socks” Rosé states as she shoves a draw full of them closed.

“It’s getting close to winter, what happens if I need to double up?” Denali defends before the door to the room is thrown open.

“Casting list is up!” Liv bursts into the room.

Almost immediately Denali and Mik who had been crouched by their suitcases are on their feet.

“Have you looked yet?” Denali asks.

“No, came to get you guys first.”

“Well, what are we waiting for?” Mik prompts before abandoning task and rushing them out the door.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The whole surrounding is crowded, a mix of people jumping in excitement and a few pissed off faces. Gradually the four of them make their way closer to the sheet hung on the noticeboard.

“I got it!” Denali exclaims as she jumps back to the group through the crowd in victory. Having ducked under a few arms to see the sheet: finding her name listed as part of the main dance troupe and next to the roller-skate solo.

“Gorge, of course you got the solo” Mik says. “You’re basically the only one who can stand up in skates.”

“No one would even come close to you” Liv agrees as she follows Mik further through the crowd.

Rosé smiles at Denali from next to her but doesn’t make to follow the other two.

“What’s wrong? You not wanna know what you got?” Denali asks her.

“Nervous” is all Rosé says.

“Come on” Denali nods her head to the papers on the board and takes Rosé by the hand. “I’ll check with you.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Denali doesn’t let go of Rosé’s hand as they search for her name. After a few tense seconds Rosé sighs in relief and takes a small step back. Soon afterward Denali finds her name listed next to the lead role as the ringleader.

“Congratulations” Denali squeezes her hand and smiles up at her.

Rosé breathes deeply before she smiles and squeezes Denali’s hand back.

“That’s two years in a row, girl!” Mik exclaims after finding Rosé’s name.

“What about you?” Rosé asks.

“I don’t know, I haven’t found it yet” Mik says.

“Hold on, I’ll help” Denali says, letting go of Rosé’s hand and joining Mik in regaining her search.

While scouring the list of names, Denali overhears Rosé talking to Olivia.

“Hey, I’m sorry” Rosé says as she steps closer to her. “I know you really wanted that part.”

“Everyone wanted that part” Liv reminds her. “But congratulations, you deserve it. Your audition was killer.”

Rosé smirks as she leans down closer to her ear. “You can always pull some showgirl shit and throw some marbles – you’re pretty much my understudy.”

Liv laughs and for a moment the jealousy she feels disappears. “I’ll just show you up on stage.”

“Bring it” Rosé nudges her with an elbow. “I love some competition.”

Liv opens her mouth to respond but is cut off by Mik’s exclamation.

“Yes! I get to be a clown!”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

“I’m so glad I don’t have to memorise any lines” Denali says picking up the script from Rosé’s desk.

“Haha” Rosé drones sarcastically, half asleep from on top of her bed.

Denali flips through a couple of pages. “How far have you gotten?”

Rosé hums as she tries to properly calculate the percentage but gives up and instead answers, “most of it.”

“I confess, I had my doubts… But this is a triumph. Well done ma’am” Denali prompts her with a line from the script. Playing up a proper voice, teasingly.

“Shut up” Rosé groans throwing a pair of balled up socks at her shoulder. “Wake me up in half an hour if my alarm doesn’t go off” she says hitting a button on her phone before rolling over to face the wall.

Denali smiles as she picks up the socks that had fallen to the floor. She knows better than to throw them back at Rosé, lest she wake her up more when she needs to sleep.

The school had thrown them all into rehearsals as soon as the casting list had been put up, and they’d been thrown in hard. None harder than Rosé in her leading role. Add onto her hectic school schedule with night shifts at the diner, and she’s been nearly falling asleep in every one of her classes for the last week. Still, she manages to make it work though Denali has no idea how she does it.

Almost within seconds Rosé’s breathing evens out as sleep takes her, and Denali quietly stands from the chair to put the socks back on her set of draws. Internally wincing as the chair creaks when she sits back down in it but Rosé doesn’t even stir.

Denali smiles again, this time at the peacefulness of the room. Much the opposite of her own now days with Mik having been put in charge of the make up for the production. Since then, she’s taken to hanging out in Rosé’s room more often now that her own was littered with eyeshadow pallets and make up brushes on almost every surface.

With nothing much to occupy her time, she picks up the script again and reads through it. Skimming over the notes Rosé has written in neat cursive in the margins, and feeling a swelling of pride at the stage directions for her dance numbers.

Her finger traces over Mik’s sole line she has in the script – one that she always jokes that she’ll forget – when the buzzing of an alarm goes off.

“Hey, no!” she warns pointedly, seeing Rosé’s arm move out blindly to whack snooze.

“Five more minutes” Rosé groans into her pillow.

“No” Denali says as she moves over to the bed. “Anything longer than 30 minutes just makes it worse.”

She shakes once at Rosé’s shoulder, earning an exaggerated groan, but it works as Rosé pushes herself up with a yawn. As she stretches out her arms Denali turns around to grab her hairbrush to throw to her.

Rosé misses catching it but it falls on her lap before she picks it up, flashing Denali half a smile as she untangles her hair.

“How late are you working tonight?”

Rosé scrunches her nose in a contemplative manner. “Got a double shift, so probably get back at 1:00 or 2:00.”

“Shit, Rosie” Denali sighs.

Rosé hums dismissively as she puts down her hairbrush and moves over to pack her uniform. “But then I don’t work again until the weekend, so…” she trails off as she zips up her bag and grabs her shoes from the floor.

“Hey, uh… they’re giving the tickets out to us tomorrow” Denali hesitantly changes the subject to one she’d been thinking over for a while. “Are you going to invite your parents?”

Rosé freezes as she sits on her bed, her expression going blank as her shoes drop to the floor. “Haven’t thought about it” she says a few seconds later, moving to shove her feet into her shoes like she hadn’t frozen in the first place.

“Do you think you will?”

This time it takes even longer for Rosé to reply, and she tightens her shoelaces a little too aggressively. “I don’t know.”

Denali picks up on the hint but for a reason beyond her, she ignores it. “I think it would be nice for them to see what you’re doing.”

Though the words were spoken innocently, they still sting slightly at something inside Rosé and she holds her breath for a second, waiting to ride the feeling out.

“I’ll think about it” rosé dismisses a little irritably as she stands and shoulders her bag, before making the excuse. “I have to go.”

And she does. Leaving Denali standing in an empty room trying to forget how the door had slammed on her way out.

CH6