#the conductor was thrashed

[best24news]

Haryana News: बस के आगे पिकअप लगाकर भरी सवारियां, विरोध करने पर कंडेक्टर की कर दी धुनाई

Haryana News: बस के आगे पिकअप लगाकर भरी सवारियां, विरोध करने पर कंडेक्टर की कर दी धुनाई

Best24News, Haryana :  अवैध रूप से सवारियां भरने वाले चालको का आंतक बढता ही जा रहा है। मंगलवार को पिकअप चालक ने हरियाणा रोडवेज रेवाड़ी डिपो की बस के कंडेक्टर की धुनाई कर दी तथा उसकी वर्दी फाड़ दी। इतना ही नहीं उसने टिकट और पैसे से भरा बैग भी छीनकर फैंक दिया। वारदात के बाद आरोपी मौके से भाग निकला। रेवाडी में आढतियो की हड़ताल का कोई असर नहीं.. धडल्ले से हो रही खरीददारी कोसली पुलिस ने अनुसार रेवाड़ी…

[teapartyprincess4two]

I need a jealous matt fic from you. like actuallyyyy

Urban Cowboy- M. Sturniolo

pairing: Cowgirl!reader x CityBoy!Matt

classification: fluff, angst

warnings: use of y/n, mentions of jealousy, slight cursing, mentions of alcohol and alcohol use, set in the county/ a ranch

inspiration: request^^, Urban Cowboy (the movie) but with a twist & none of the abuse. Also, we’re taking a different route with jealousy hehehe

summary: Matt, a city boy, tries one upping you, the best bull rider in town, only to be met with a painful outcome.

—

Every summer the triplets were shipped away to their grandparents ranch out in the country. For a couple of months, they left their busy city life behind in favor of days plowing the field, tending to livestock, and helping their grandparents out.

Since they were kids, Matt and his brothers have always loved summers out in the country. They spent their days swimming in the river, attending the state fair, running across acres of land, and riding their bikes down dirt roads. So many of their core memories were made during these summer trips, the change of pace allowing them to unwind and relax.

But, as the boys grew older, they began practicing less innocent hobbies. Days playing in the sun were replaced with long, drunk nights at local bars. They danced with attractive people, got into bar fights, and most importantly, they traded in their bikes for mechanical bulls.

Nick and Chris were experts on the mechanical bull, easily outlasting everyone else, but everyone knew that they were just the warmup. The real show started once Matt mounted that bull, his firm grip on the leather rope enough to hold him for longer than anyone else. He had an unmatched strength that helped him too, and he quickly became cocky about it.

Crowds of drunk people would gather just to watch Matt, cheering him on with each passing minute. They would bet on how long he’d last, each time surprised that he was able to hang on for so long. The mechanical bull thrashed and bucked, but Matt’s firm grip held him steadily in place.

No one could ever outlast Matt, until you came along at least. Unlike Matt, you weren’t a city transplant. No, you were born and raised in the country, spending more than just summers doing manual labor. So, where he had natural strength, you had muscles built from years of hard work. There was also another distinguishable difference; he was bull riding as a serious hobby, but you were only doing it for fun.

Bull riding is a past time you’ve practiced your whole life, you didn’t see the point in showing off, but the second you mounted that bull and beat Matt’s time, he couldn’t help but feel like you were. It felt like you were kicking dirt in his face.

Matt, Nick, and Chris watch from the bar. They’re sitting on the stools, facing the crowd that has piled up around you. The conductor, who sits just behind the bull setup, is jolting the remote aggressively from side to side, but no matter how hard he tries he can’t knock you off. Matt feels the jealousy stir in his stomach as the crowd cheers for you, they were only supposed to cheer for him!

“Who the fuck is that?” Matt grumbles mostly to his brothers, but loud enough for the bartender to hear.

Nick and Chris shrug, how were they supposed to know who you were? Chris calls the bartender over with a tilt of his head, silently ordering three beers with his hands.

The bartender immediately fills up three glasses, the alcohol fizzing and frothing at the top. “That’s Y/n… Her dad owns the mill on the outskirts of town, biggest flour company in the west. I heard they made enough money to buy another ranch last year… Shit, they own just about every business this side of town. Pretty sure they own this damn bar,” the bartender chimes in his deep country accent catching the boys off guard as he slides the glasses to them.

Matt, who’s leaning against the bar counter, crooks his neck to look at the bartender, looking him up and down before quickly averting his gaze back to you.

Matt can’t believe anyone could ever outlast his record time of 10 minutes, but as he watches the clock he notices that you were nearing 15. “She’s fucking beating you, dude,” Chris laughs, taking a sip of his beer before slapping Matt’s chest enthusiastically. The neon clock numbers are taunting Matt, causing him to clench his jaw as his pride gets the best of him.

His whole shtick was that he was the city boy who easily outlasted all these country kids, what good did that do if he was beat by a girl?

The mechanical bull thrashes violently as the conductor tries knocking you off, but you’re using your momentum to push you past the 15 minute mark. You don’t even look like you’re struggling either, a big smile plastered on your face as you grip onto the leather rope with one hand and your hat with the other. Everyone is watching excitedly, suddenly erupting into a loud cheer as you create a new record.

“I’ve never seen anyone last that long,” Nick comments, a look of awe and shock on his face. “Then you must not be from ‘round here. That girl is a natural on that thing, she wins the bull riding contest at the state fair every year,” the bartender replies, butting into the conversation once again before shaking his head and walking away.

Matt waits until he’s out of earshot to say, “What the fuck does that mean? ‘You must not be from ‘round here?’” He puts on a dramatic, exaggerated country accent as he says the last part, an annoyed look written all over his face.

You’re standing on the bull now, riding it like a surfer rides a wave. The crowd is going crazy, cheering you on as you continue putting on a show. A smile is spread across your face as you gently sit back down, laying on your back and propping your feet on the horns, your hands weaved between your thighs as you hold onto the leather rope. Everything about your performance was effortless, and it angered Matt.

Matt decides he’s seen enough when you throw both legs to one side, casually holding yourself up with your hands on either side of your hips. He snatches his beer from the bar violently, practically chugging it before throwing it back in the counter. He sucks in through his teeth shortly after at the strong sensation, following it with a burp before throwing his hat back on and stomping over to the crowd.

“I’ll show you who ain’t from ‘round here,” Matt mutters, pushing his way through the crowd until he’s directly in front of the inflatable foundation of the bull machine. You walk right past him as you dismount, making brief eye contact as you drunkenly giggle and laugh your way to your friends. He watches as you stumble, dizzy steps guiding you through the crowd. For some reason this only further upsets Matt, causing him to mount the bull haphazardly.

He sends the conductor a look, signifying that he’s ready to start, before gripping the leather rope so tightly that his knuckles turn white. The machine starts off slowly, rocking back and forth at a pace that gives Matt enough time to properly adjust himself.

But, before he knows it, the bull is gyrating, twisting, and turning so aggressively that he’s struggling to hold on. Matt’s mind is racing with thoughts, the fear of embarrassment causing the anxiety to build up. It feels like the conductor is purposefully trying to knock him off with enough force to hurt him, and it doesn’t help that no one in the crowd is cheering.

After the show you just gave, Matt’s performance was sub par in comparison. He was stiff as a board from the nerves, making it harder to keep his balance. By this point his his hat flew off, bouncing on the inflatable floor beneath him, and he was holding onto the rope for dear life.

“Look at this guy, showing off because he got beat by a girl,” someone snickers from the crowd, the comment being followed by a roar of laughter. That’s when the conductor bucks the machine forward, quickly knocking Matt onto his stomach before pulling the remote and forcing Matt to straighten his back to stay mounted.

Just as he’s gaining confidence in himself, the bull tilts to the right sharply enough to send Matt flying. The inflatable cushion beneath him does nothing to break his fall, the sheer force at which he was thrown being enough to break his arm. The crowd immediately groans as they watch Matt’s body ricochet when it comes in contact with the edge of the ring.

You were facing away from the crowd, engaged in a conversation with your friends, but as soon as you hear the crowd groaning and yelling you turn towards the scene. Matt is laying on the ground, clutching his arm as he tries to breathe through the pain. Everyone watches, but nobody helps, they just stand there either laughing or wincing at the idea of being in that much pain.

“Move!” you exclaim, pushing your way through the crowd and immediately walking into the ring. The spongy ground makes it harder to walk to Matt, who’s looking at you with wide eyes. This was the most embarrassing moment of his life.

You crouch in front of him, using all your force to pull him up from the ground while still being careful not to hurt him.

He lets you pick him up and guide him to a secluded area. His cheeks are burning hot with embarrassment and his eyes sting, the tears threatening to spill from the build up of anxiety and pain.

But he sucks it up and follows you, avoiding everyone’s wandering eyes.

—

“It don’t look broken, just sprained,” you comment, wrapping a bandage around Matt’s limp wrist. He hums in response, avoiding eye contact with you and you can’t figure out why.

“Sorry if I’m oversteppin’. just thought you could use some help,” your country accent is thick, and for the first time since the night started Matt isn’t completely jealous of you. He’s silently grateful that you evacuated him from the embarrassing situation, immediately feeling guilt for trying to one up you and show off.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, wincing as you accidentally pull his wrist. Once the pain subsides he continues, “you were pretty great out there.” The compliment hurts his ego, but you’re being so kind to him that he puts his own jealousies to the side. Matt’s sitting on a bar stool, the both of you in a secluded corner of the bar as you continue tending to his injury.

“Thanks, weren’t too bad yourself,” you offer him a genuine smile, gently placing his arm onto his lap. It was evident, just by looking at him, that Matt wasn’t from here and that made him more alluring. You stand in between his legs, the close proximity building a tension that neither of you know what to do with.

“Can I be honest?” he asks, once again avoiding eye contact and looking into the distance. His eyes train on the mechanical bull, watching as someone else takes a turn on it. You hum in response, trying to move in front of his line of vision to catch his attention.

“I only got on that bull because I was jealous.”

“Jealous?” His statement caught you off guard, what did he have to be jealous of?

“Yeah, jealous. It sounds childish, but I really wanted to beat your time… all I ended up with was a sprained wrist,” he chuckles, fiddling with his fingers. If he wasn’t being so vulnerable, and if he wasn’t injured, you might’ve gotten upset.

“Well, I’ve seen you ride before. You’re better than everyone here,” you reply, trying to keep the conversation uplifting.

“Not better than you.”

“Yeah, not better than me,” you reply seriously, waiting for him to face you before smiling. “I’m kidding,” you laugh, punching his shoulder slightly. He winces before joining you with a chuckle.

“Don’t worry. I can teach you a few moves,” you continue, your eyes wrinkling from how hard you were smiling. Matt’s smiling too, he felt silly for feeling jealous earlier.

“I’d like that,” he chuckles, opening his legs wider for you to scoot in closer. You take the invitation, your hats bumping together slightly. The smile on your face is engulfed by Matt’s lips as he moves in for a kiss, his uninjured wrist resting on your waist.

“Easy there, cowboy,” you murmur as you feel his hands inch down towards your ass. He laughs in response, going in for another kiss.

—

MASTERLIST

a/n:

Cowboy Matt is my favorite. I might make a part two that’s much more angsty bc we need that full Urban Cowboy moment, but for now enjoy this 😋

-L.A.M.B👼🏻💗

—

taglist: @nicksmainbitch @sturniololovers @mayhem-72 @worldlxvlys @gnxosblog @meg-sturniolo @creamoncreamoncream2 @mattnchrisworld @sanyi5 @lustfulslxt @whicked-hazlatwhore @tworosesblackthorn @mxqdii @fawned01

note: if you want to be tagged in my fanfic related posts, you can access my TAGLIST and comment 💐

[association-of-ideas]

I watched Trolls Band Together and my immediate reaction was to start writing fanfiction. I have created a swap AU Viva and Brozone switch roles.

Essentially, Viva is the one that leaves and the bros get lost during their escape from the troll tree. It's heavily inspired by @year2000electronics fic, Brozone: World Tour. I absolutely love this fic so much; I recommend reading it.

Anyways, I've some stuff figured out, but it's not set in stone.

Swap AU (official name pending)

Before the Great Escape, it was highly encouraged for smaller groups and families to escape on their own, enough so that Pop Village had already been established before King Peppy and the rest of the Pop trolls escaped

After the death of her daughter (Cecily) and daughter-in-law (Juniper), Rosiepuff becomes the sole guardian of her five grandchildren: John Dory (15), Spruce (13), Clay (11), Floyd (8), and Branch (egg)

With King Peppy’s blessing and best wishes, Rosiepuff packs up her family and leaves with another escaping family

They’re discovered during their escape and the brothers are separated and scattered across the genres

With ⅘ of her grandkids lost to the sewers, Rosiepuff is crushed, but she pushes through for Branch and acts as the de facto leader of the Pop trolls

During that time, she becomes a guide for trolls seeking to escape and works with Peppy to devise the Great Escape plan

It's during the Great Escape that Rosiepuff is eaten leading the Burgens away from the others and Branch (5) still sees her get eaten, causing him to gray

At the same time, Viva (14) has seen more than any child ever should and the closer she gets to turning 18, the more pressure is put on her to be a good queen

Between the Burgens, escape plans, and her ever-growing stack of responsibilities, Viva cracks under the pressure

During the Great Escape, she splits off from the group after saying goodbye to Poppy (2) and runs away to find a place for herself

Their rushed parting leaves Poppy w/ bittersweet (mostly bitter) feelings about her sister and siblings in general

As an old friend of Rosiepuff’s, Peppy does his best to look after Branch until he's old enough to be on his own, at which point, he leaves to build his bunker

Growing up together gives Poppy more of a reason to want to be around Branch

Branch is also aware of Viva’s existence, but because of how everything went down, he assumes she was eaten and doesn't bring it up

As mentioned earlier, the brothers were separated and scattered across the genres

John Dory ends up in Volcano Rock City

He's found by King Thrash and raised alongside Barb as her older brother

The separation left him with severe trauma that shows itself on a daily basis as over-protectiveness, an unwillingness to venture beyond the kingdom, and a need to fortify it

Bruce find finds himself lost at sea before meeting the Techno trolls who help him to Vacay Island

He spends a week or so drifting across the sea by himself

Eventually, he's found by a pod of Techno trolls and they help find shore

He washes up on Vacay Island and gets a job as a busboy at the restaurant run by Brandy's dad

They meet, fall in love, and the rest is history

Bruce has a tendency to do head counts whenever he's anxious or overwhelmed

Clay ends up in Symphonyville

Clay is found half-conscious by an elderly conductor named Calliope

She takes him and while officially, he is her 'ward', everyone knows him as her grandson

The trauma of the separation leaves Clay w/ selective mutism, preventing him from speaking or singing

Instead, he learns to play the cello and focuses his energy on that as he slowly regains the ability to speak

While he eventually learns how to talk again, he can't sing nor does he want to

Floyd ends up in Lonesome Flats

After getting washed away in the sewers, Sheriff Brooks drags him out of the river and takes him back to town

From there, he’s adopted by the Sheriff and raised as Delta Dawn’s little brother

Being the youngest when he was separated and given the traumatic event itself as well as the physical damage inflicted during the escape, Floyd remembers the least about his family before coming to Lonesome Flats

I might make a separate post going further in depth on Viva's side of things if anyone's interested. I've also come up with character designs for the boys' moms.

[georgi-girl]

The Corpse Groom (Corpse Bride recast)

original meme belongs to Blaze-On-Fire. I've learned some disappointing things about Tim Burtan. But my sister tells me it's still okay to like his movie since he's not really the creative mind behind them. So with that in mind, I give you my polyamorous retelling of The Corpse Bride with characters from the Dreamworks Trolls franchise (inspired by the Tangled/Corpse Bride crossover "Live For You" on AO3) starring... Hickory in the role of Victor Van Dort. Princess Poppy in the role of Victoria Everglot. Delta Dawn in the role of Nell (she's Hickorys' sister-in-law) Cybil in the role of Maudeline (until the third movie comes out, I'm casting her as Poppy's mother) King Peppy in the role of Finis. Dickory in the role of William (Hickorys' brother, Delta's husband) Branch in the of Emily (why is the title character so far down? this is not a well-designed meme) Creek in the role of Lord Barkus. DJ Suki in the role of Hildagard (she's Poppys' lady in waiting) King Gristle Senior in the role of Pastor Galswells. Biggie in the role of Mayhew (Don't worry, he's not going to die) Grandma Rosie Puff in the role of Grandfather Everglot (she's Poppys' ancestor in this story)   King Thrash in the role of Elder Gutknecht. He and the other Rock Trolls are psychopomps (death angels) who watch over Troll souls in Purgatory. Riff in the role of the Black Widow. Chaz in the role of the flirtatious Miss Plum. Barb in the role of the Maggot (I thought about casting her as Bonejangles, but she's more like the sassy Maggot)   Conductor Trollzart in the role of the General (I wanted to us the Country Troll who SPOILER: dies onscreen, but I couldn't find any picture of him) King Trollex in the role of Bonejangles (specializing in Horrorcore Techno) And Fuzzbert in the role of Emil. 

The story is this... Princess Poppy is betrothed to Lord Creek. But she's in love with the handsome trans man Hickory Dock. They decide to elope, and while passing through the woods, they practice their wedding vows, accidently summoning Brance, a corpse who's still holding his last breath. He approaches his "beloveds" who explain that they're already an item. He tells them that he's "willing to share". He then sprits them away to Purgatory, where the dead spend their time before they're ready to move on. They're greeted by the Barb the psychopomp who shows them around, and Trollex who sings about the tragic Corpse Groom that was betrayed and murdered by his lover. The trio has a good time together, until Hickory remembers his family is still waiting for him. They go to Thrash, who gives them a haunting spell that sends them to the world of the living. They go (with Branch in disguise) to the home of Hickory's brother and in-laws. The next day, they sneak into the castle, where they overhear Creek blackmailing King Peppy for Poppys' hand. Poppy chooses to stay and help her father, while Branch and Hickory escape back to Purgatory. Poppy and Suki do some investigating and discover that Creek stole a royal family relic ~ a harp said to restore life to the freshly dead. (wink wink) Meanwhile, Branch is distraught, but Hickory comforts him with a romantic ballad. Right when they're ready to start again, Thrash reveals that the dead and the living are forbidden to marry. If they want to be a couple Hickory will have to go back to the world of the living and take his own life. Hickory agrees, and the whole dead community goes up to perform the wedding. Poppy sees the procession and joins them, thinking that her death will make her wedding to Creek null and void. But during the ceremony, Branch sees Poppy and Hickorys' families watching and can't go through with it. Poppy tries to tell him about the harp, but Creek interrupts. Branch recognizes his murderer, and a fight breaks out. Creek escapes but trips and impales himself on a thorn. And before he can use the harp on himself, he's dragged off to face judgement. Poppy and Hickory use the harp to restore Branch to life, and then destroy it. A new life is waiting for all three of them.

[necarion]

I love the Brahms Requiem, but dear god does it thrash the tenors. It's hard in all the voice parts, but the tenor section is going wildly flat during the last movement. This is movement 3.

Like, yes, it is high in the soprano range as well. But I think As are higher, relatively speaking, to tenors than they are to Sopranos. I've talked to some altos and basses and while the stuff goes mildly high for the altos, they don't seem to find it vocally fatiguing in the same way that it is for the tenors.

I was taking it super easy, not singing the high notes, etc., during rehearsal, and I was exhausted. (I'd tried really hard to convince the tenors to take it easy during rehearsal, and everyone agreed. And then promptly forgot when the conductor asked for MOAR SOUND. Which also irritates me because he acknowledged to me directly that the tenors needed to take it easy during the rehearsal.)

[technically-uh]

a suga fic.

tw's: very, very, angsty. and the use of one. single. curse. word. one time.

a/n: idk what's going on with the pic but um :D ..yeah hope you like it! please forgive me if my english sucks. and feedback always appreciated! :)

__________________________________________________________- - - - ♡

|| the violin prodigy

You climb onto the stage, holding your violin in one hand. You look at the audience in front of you and take a deep breath. The lights above the audience slowly dim and eventually fade off; the ones above you grow harsher and harsher until the only thing the audience can see is you on the stage, and the only thing you can properly see is the violin in your hand. Yet your eyes subconsciously scan the crowd, hoping to see someone. Hoping to see him.

Today's fight was about how he hadn’t ironed your suit and how he hadn't brought you a bow tie of the right color. It was an important concert for you, and everything had to be perfect. You had assigned that task to him, trusting him to do it properly and he had fucked it up. If the other performers observed these imperfections, if the audience would notice.. You despised the very idea of being anything but perfect in front of others, especially when you're doing your job.

He simply didn't understand. He didn't get what the big deal was. What started small blew up. After a while he got mad. You later had to leave mid-argument to get there early for your pre-concert rehearsal. It was all still heavy in your heart, and you were scared. Scared that you'd lose the joy and comfort you found in each other. Scared that you'd lose each other. Scared that he wouldn't show up to one of the most important moments of your life.

You had a fight this afternoon. A trivial fight, but it meant more. You had been fighting frequently over the last few weeks. From you forgetting to turn off the oven, to him feeling terrified and hurt that you'd move to London, leaving him, your fights had lasted for a long time, and had thrashed around in both your hearts, until one of you eventually broke down and ended up in the other's arms crying, hugging for comfort and love.

Then came the conductor, followed by a loud applause; he stood there waiting for the audience to quiet down until the whole hall was filled with a deep, echoing silence; a silence so profound and consuming, radiating with anticipation, expectation, and eagerness. The calm before the storm. And the conductor looked at you.

You brought the bow of your violin to the strings; a perfect, melancholic wail emerged from it, emanating and echoing through the whole concert hall. You moved your bow up and down the violin, and slowly the world disappeared; it was drowning you along with it. You were playing the most beautiful music you had ever heard in your life; something so sacred, so ethereal, so goddamn beautiful. You let go of what your brain told you and followed your heart, your hands moving the bow skillfully on the violin as you weaved the music you knew so intimately. You could hear what you were going to play before you even played it. You were so well accustomed with it; it was a part of you. Sibelius' Violin Concerto; that's what got you into classical music. That's where it all started. And that's how you met him.

Monday afternoon; the university's practice room. It was raining heavily outside. Raindrops struck the window glass and painfully slid down as you were practicing a piece by Paganini. Of course, you played it wrong every few seconds. Sometimes the tempo wasn't right. Other times the coordination between the left and the right hand was lacking. Most of the time it was both, plus a hundred other discrepencies including going out of tune, completely missing some notes, and messing up the vibrato. Eventually you started questioning your playing skills, your academic decisions and your whole life and you broke down crying.

Suga came in, opened the door and was surprised to find someone so fragile, pathetically broken, sitting on the floor, crying, hands wrapped around your violin. "Hey," he said. "Um," It was obvious he didn't know what to say. He sighed. "Look. Wait. Why are you crying?"

You glanced at your violin, the stand on which your sheets, used and shabby, stood awkwardly in the otherwise empty room. He stared at it all for a long time. His eyes twinkled. "You know," he said, almost whispering, " it's wonderful that you can express something so beautiful through something so.. different like that," he said, a small smile creeping on his face. And you sat there, slowly growing calmer and quieter. And you sat there together, sitting amidst the quiet patter of the rain on the window; distant, faded sounds of violins going on in the other rooms.

And you're back here again, playing your heart out into the open, playing the third movement. It is filled with activity and life, but you play it unconsciously, almost playing exclusively off your muscle memory. But you mean every second of music that comes out of your violin, as your eyes are stuck shut, as you remember his face, bathed in the warm, bright light of the afternoon, his lips stretched in a knowing smile as he looked at you..

The concerto is finally over, as you end it in the same way you began. Then follows the thunderous applause, as sounds of people clapping fills the room. They stand up clumsily, cheering and coughing. The light above the audience shines again, towards, and you can see almost all of them standing up; some of them with tears in their eyes, others with relief in their eyes as they can finally escape and fall on their beds. But one of them isn't.

That man is sitting in the front row. He sits, slumped. His lips are left slightly open; his eyes are wide, tears threatening to spill out of them as he stares at the orchestra. Then he blinks and a tear begins flowing out. He continues watching the podium, stumped, in absolute wonder and amazement. Another tear flows out as his lips gently tremble and his eyes relax. They were fixed on you this whole time. And they were filled with love.

Suga smiles at you, amidst the tears, amidst his amazement and appreciation. He's overwhelmed by you. By the fact that you could play something so beautifully. He fell in love with you all over again. And you just stand there, basking in his warmth, just elated at the fact that he's here. That he showed up, after all. To see you.

And after a short celebration and meeting up with some of the audience, you step out of the back door. Suga is there, waiting for you. Quiet, leaning patiently against the wall. Watching the sunset. Smiling. He then notices you.

He tilts his head and looks at you. "Hey," he says, gently.

__________________________________________________________- - - - ♡

tysm for reading this! i didn't even bother editing this again, hope it doesn't seem to off :) but yesh i really enjoyed writing it i guess. classical music. anyways. feedback and comments always appreciated (i like compliments btw) <3 have a good day!

[also stream amygdala]

[everythingwasalreadypicked]

Done something 

“I know she’s done something!” Heloise shouted as she barreled towards Morrigan. The younger girl stepped aside hurriedly, before rolling her eyes. “Honestly, Heloise?”

“You’ve done something to Alifie, I just know it” tears streamed down her red blotched face, landing on her uniform. 

“I’m sorry, what could I have possibly done to your boyfriend?” 

“He’s gone, don’t play dumb!” She thrust a note in Morrigan’s face. 

“It says here that he left?” Miss Cheery interjected, “what could that possibly have to do with Morrigan?”

“Alifie thinks ‘relinquish’ is a condiment. He didn’t write this.” Heloise said flatly. Then her voice became panicked. “I’ve seen her do things, control people. She’s not normal! She could have hurt him, or made him hurt himself, or- oh poor Alifie!” The tears she had been holding back fell in thick steams, her body wracked with sobs. 

“Listen, Heloise. Let’s get you cleaned up, and we can talk about this when you’re feeling calmer” the conductor held Heloise’s fisted hand in a viselike grip.  Lambeth flinched, looking between the girls. Morrigan hummed, a bit of a nervous habit by this point, Wunder swarming to her hand. 

“No!” Heloise shrieked, swinging her other hand at miss cheery, silver stars glinting between her fingers. 

Before she could even think, Morrigan thrust her arm out, catching Heloise’s hand. Her grip, strengthened by Wunder, tightened around the other girl’s thrashing wrist until Heloise cried out in pain. Only then did Morrigan let up. 

The green haired girl backed up slowly, eyes wide and fixed on Morrigan like a scared unnimal. Morrigan suddenly felt a lot more sympathy for her. She reached her hand out with intent to console her, but Heloise startled and jumped back.

“D-don’t touch me!” 

Morrigan looked to her unit for help, but they seemed thoroughly spooked as well. Even Hawthorne looked more than a bit alarmed. 

From the crowd of gawkers who had gathered to watch the exchange, the scholar mistresses emerged, spine popping as their forms kept shifting. 

“My office, both of you.” Dearborn snapped. “Now.” 

OMG OMG OMG IT'S SUCH A SUBTLE CHANGE BUT ALSO IT FITS SO GOOD!!!

Now I wonder if Squall taught Mog his little puppeteering trick👀

[ninjadeathblade]

Moulin Rouge Discotrain AU (part twenty nine)

Summary: (Post-game canon) The Conductor and DJ Grooves agree to finally work on a movie together. They come up with 'Moulin Rouge', a musical drama filled with romance. Over time the two directors grow closer and discover that maybe they don't hate each other as much.

Beginning | Previous | Next

Word count: 1,471

Warnings: Blood, being sick, Snatcher has trauma

Author's notes: Another Snatcher and Empress chapter! I love them, they're such good friends. Plus I missed Snatcher so he gets to be back. Dude got traumatised and I will explain more about that in the spinoff I'll write for him. Anyway, enjoy!

Snatcher gagged, retching into a plant pot.

Bubbling, black ooze burnt away at the greenery as Snatcher leant against the hallway wall.

He matched the darkness he supposed, even with blood smeared across his slight frame.

The yellow bird that ran past him didn't even notice him.

Snatcher watched the owl go.

“I thought everyone was meant to be filming,” Snatcher murmured, forcing himself forward.

He snapped his fingers, the doors in front of him opening.

"Kid, what's going on?” Snatcher asked the nearest owl.

“Mr. Snatcher! You're- you're back! I'm sorry, Mr. Grooves and Mr. Conductor are out right now,” Owlice greeted him.

“Anyone else with authority?” Snatcher questioned, hand moving to his side as something felt like it was freezing there.

The ghost let out a low string of curses as he gestured at it, a few sparks of magic curling towards the patch before disintegrating.

“You look like even more of a mess than Conductor did.”

Snatcher looked up at Empress, a sharp comeback on the edge of his tongue.

He bent over again, regurgitating another bubbling pile of ooze.

"Ugh, maybe that wasn't a sharp comeback on the edge of my tongue,” Snatcher said, kicking some of it under a nearby set of seats. “I'm not cleaning that up.”

“You're a wreck right now, what happened?” Empress asked, walking over and slinging one of his arms around her shoulders.

“Vanessa. Vanessa happened,” Snatcher grumbled, sagging more of his weight against the cat.

“Scram, bird. Tell everyone to go home and come back after the weekend,” Empress instructed.

Owlice nodded and walked away.

“Aren't you guys meant to be filming?” Snatcher questioned.

“Technically yes. But there's a possible development between the two idiots in love who run this place, so I'm sure no one minds us taking a little time off,” Empress explained.

“You mean they're finally-” Snatcher broke off in a fit of coughs.

“Chill it or I will knock you out. I can't have you spewing creepy nightmare goop everywhere,” Empress replied.

“Sorry,” Snatcher wheezed.

"Now. I'm going to take you back to my place in the metro. And we are going to stay there until you feel well again,” Empress explained. “Got that?”

“Okay.”

“And you're not going to complain about it,” Empress instructed. “And I will kick you out if you throw up on my furniture.”

“Sure.”

Snatcher blinked, looking around the room.

“Good. You're awake.”

He looked over at Empress, scrolling on her phone.

The cat was slouched across an armchair, legs hanging over one arm with her back propped against the other.

“Where am I?” Snatcher asked, memory hazy.

“My place in the metro. I told you I was taking you there,” Empress replied, gaze flicking over to him. “You're really sick, aren't you?”

Snatcher nodded meekly.

“You're not going to get much better, are you?” Empress gently prompted, putting her phone down in her lap.

“I don't know what she did. But I feel so weak. I haven't eaten in so long,” Snatcher cried, a couple amber coloured drops hitting his body. “I’m so cold. I've always been cold because of how I died but this is different. I can't feel heat from anything anymore.”

Empress' tail thrashed slightly, hitting the floor.

“What do you need to eat?”

“Souls. I'm out of them though, I depleted my sources when I-”

Visions flashed through his mind of his fight with Vanessa.

He pushed them away, trying to block them out.

“Anyway, I can't start healing without souls. And I used up the last of my power getting to the studio,” Snatcher finished defeatedly.

Empress crossed the room and leaned over him, something akin to worry staining her features.

"Listen here!” Empress growled. “I'm going to go find some sad nobodies who are willing to trade their souls in. And you're going to take those souls and get better. Got that?”

Snatcher nodded again as she stood back up.

He knew she was trying to be caring but she had a weird way of showing it.

“Can't believe I have to babysit everyone. I had to beat some sense into Conductor and now I have to stop you from dying.”

“Actually-”

“Oh shut up,” Empress interrupted, ears bent back over her head as her tail whipped back and forth.

Empress watched wide-eyed as Snatcher healed his wounds.

Her pupils were bloated as she stared at the sparkling magic.

“Thank you. For what you did,” Snatcher whispered, biting back a whimper of pain as another cold shock went through his side.

Empress blinked, seemingly snapping out of her stupor.

“It's fine. You would do the same for me.” She shrugged, moving Snatcher's legs out the way to sit beside him on the sofa.

He lay his legs back on top of her lap as she scrolled on her phone.

“We could make a contract, you know. I could get the cops off of your back,” Snatcher suggested.

His friendship with Empress felt like all he had left sometimes.

He didn't want to lose her due to something stupid, like her committing crimes.

“Eventually, yes.” The corner of her mouth twitched into a smile. “That would be nice.”

Snatcher took a break from weaving magic into his wounds, staring at the cat.

There was something about her that screamed fake. Like she wasn't as mean as she made herself out to be, or that she was kind of sick of everything.

“You know, you're not as scary as you think you are,” Snatcher said, resting his head against the plush pillows on the back of the sofa.

Empress' tail twitched and she quickly scratched behind her ear.

“I'm the most notorious criminal in the world. My name strikes fear into people - the police wouldn't dare try and shut me down for good,” Empress replied coldly.

“Not after the movie comes out it won't,” Snatcher reminded.

Empress took a deep breath, casting him a tired look.

“What are you trying to get out of this?” She sighed.

"What were you like as kid? I mean, what did you even do before the metro was built?” Snatcher questioned.

“The metro has always existed, even if it wasn't a metro at the time. I made my money through dirty work, same as I do now. The only differences were my looks and my name,” Empress started.

“Emily was an idealistic idiot. She thought that if she tried hard enough, things would change. But they never have, and never will. The metro will always be an area of power struggle.”

Empress stared off into the distance, eyes absent.

“Emily had friends. Emily was never going to be a leader with connections like that. Emily had to cut herself off, especially when things started going badly,” the cat spat. “Emily was a fool and a weakling. Emily still misses her friends.”

“But Empress…”

Her claws dug into the fabric of her coat, ripping the red, velvety pattern.

“Heh, Empress honed her skills. Empress is a master of deception and sleight of hand. Empress was not afraid to take what should rightfully be hers. She fought her way up from the bottom and she'll be damned if she doesn't stay at the top!”

Snatcher reached over and gently pulled her claws out of her coat.

"You know, I don't actually remember my name,” he said quietly. “I remember Vanessa's. I remember I was a prince and I was studying law to become a lawyer. I remember the incident that led to my death. I remember what it was like before, when we were still in love.”

Empress looked over at him, fur standing on end, pupils narrowed.

“But there's not much aside from that. Guess that was part of the curse. But I don't really care to remember. I like the life I lead as ‘The Snatcher’.” He laughed bitterly. “I don't think what happened before really matters though. Sure, I miss whatever it might have been. But at the same time, I've got so much more power. So who cares about before! What we have now is better.”

Empress retracted her claws.

“I didn't realise you were one for making big speeches,” Empress teased.

“Yeah, well, I had to learn that when-” the ghost paused as something in his stomach rolled.

“Not good.”

Empress dashed across the room, wrenching a window open.

“Not in my home!” She screeched.

Snatcher rushed over to the window, recoiling slightly at the icy jab of pain that crept through him as he threw up again.

"I'm calling Grooves. I'll take time off til you feel well again,” Empress sighed, patting him on the back.

“Thanks,” Snatcher croaked, another violent shiver going through him.

“I'll pick you up a hoodie when I buy myself dinner this evening.”

“You're a good friend.”

"Yeah, whatever.”

[necromancers-incorporated]

Chapter 4a, the angst is coming. Updates will be sporadic.

Done something 

“I know she’s done something!” Heloise shouted as she barreled towards Morrigan. The younger girl stepped aside hurriedly, before rolling her eyes. “Honestly, Heloise?”

“You’ve done something to Alifie, I just know it” tears streamed down her red blotched face, landing on her uniform. 

“I’m sorry, what could I have possibly done to your boyfriend?” 

“He’s gone, don’t play dumb!” She thrust a note in Morrigan’s face. 

“It says here that he left?” Miss Cheery interjected, “what could that possibly have to do with Morrigan?”

“Alifie thinks ‘relinquish’ is a condiment. He didn’t write this.” Heloise said flatly. Then her voice became panicked. “I’ve seen her do things, control people. She’s not normal! She could have hurt him, or made him hurt himself, or- oh poor Alifie!” The tears she had been holding back fell in thick steams, her body wracked with sobs. 

“Listen, Heloise. Let’s get you cleaned up, and we can talk about this when you’re feeling calmer” the conductor held Heloise’s fisted hand in a viselike grip.  Lambeth flinched, looking between the girls. Morrigan hummed, a bit of a nervous habit by this point, Wunder swarming to her hand. 

“No!” Heloise shrieked, swinging her other hand at miss cheery, silver stars glinting between her fingers. 

Before she could even think, Morrigan thrust her arm out, catching Heloise’s hand. Her grip, strengthened by Wunder, tightened around the other girl’s thrashing wrist until Heloise cried out in pain. Only then did Morrigan let up. 

The green haired girl backed up slowly, eyes wide and fixed on Morrigan like a scared unnimal. Morrigan suddenly felt a lot more sympathy for her. She reached her hand out with intent to console her, but Heloise startled and jumped back.

“D-don’t touch me!” 

Morrigan looked to her unit for help, but they seemed thoroughly spooked as well. Even Hawthorne looked more than a bit alarmed. 

From the crowd of gawkers who had gathered to watch the exchange, the scholar mistresses emerged, spine popping as their forms kept shifting. 

“My office, both of you.” Dearborn snapped. “Now.” 

You gotta keep me updated when you can, this is brilliant, I am certain the angst will end me but I look forward to it

[sansxfuckyou]

Like old times

Summary: This entire setting is new to him, the lights, the walls, the chair, but one thing remains the same- the electricity.

Warnings: Torture, electrocution, shock collars, tasers, past torture, trauma, bad ending, check tags for further warnings.

Authors Note: So the taser torture scene tickled my inner phans fancy and I wrote this, I don't even really know what the fuck the setting is I just know that we have torture, that's literally it, anyways, a reblog would be nice if you read it! I'm not quite sure how receptive this fandom is too gore/torture/vivsection and the likes, so I guess that's what I'm finding out tonight

Jounouchi found himself paralyzed at the sight before him, at the simple accessory on the table.

A shock collar.

A strip of leather with two metal tongs attached to it, made for bulldogs. It could kill him if the power was on long enough, and he only knows that due to personal experience.

"Do it again," Hirutani ordered.

"Are ya sure?" Hesitance was on their voice.

"I said do it again," Hirutani throws a glare in their direction.

Prongs pressed to his throat, agony shot through him alongside the heady amounts of voltage. He screamed, he screamed until it was over, his wrists burned as they rubbed against the twine. He opened his eyes again as the taser is pulled back and he sees them smirking at him as they turn it up.

He clenches his eyes shut as a pair of gloved hands lift it up and bring it to his neck. He forces his breathing steady even as the cold metal nestles against his arteries. He couldn't catch what kind of metal, if whatever he was dealing with knew anything it would be copper, strongest conductor.

"Please hold still Katsuya, this is just to keep you in order," They spoke, tone cold, Jounouchi nodded.

"I know," He took shaky breaths, grounding his feet against the floor a bit more.

They gave a hum, hand resting on a button, "Refrain from making any sound."

Rain, it was cold and wet, it made the chafe on his wrists worse with the terrible sensation. His breathing was uneven, that was what he was focusing on the most over anything. Again, the taser to his throat, the electricity jumped through the dampness of his clothing, seeping into every inch of him. He screamed again, as much as his body let him muster with everything else.

"Anything to say yet?" Hirutani asked, nudging aside his croney and grabbing Jounouchis throat.

He mustered a weak smirk, "I've said all I need," His voice is weak, and for a second the grip on his throat tightens.

"He'll break soon enough," Hirutani said, shoving back Jounouchi, he stumbled as he regained his footing in the limited movement, "Keep it up."

He shook as the words left his mouth, he answered every question perfectly. His words only stuttered once or twice, to the point the doctor took their hand off the button entirely.

"How come you came here?" They asked.

"What kind of question is that?" Jounouchi asked, he instantly regretted the words as the button was pressed on. Hundreds of watts coursed through him, he screamed as his hands shot up to his throat.

Again.

He kept screaming, thrashing in the seat he was tied too.

And again.

Jounouchi bit his tongue until it bled to stop himself from crying out, the tears still rolled. He looked up desperately at the doctor who retracted their hand from the button.

"I insist you refrain from screaming, it only makes this harder for the both of us," The doctor said, Jounouchi nodded, "Now, how come you came here?"

Jounouchi took a deep breath, recounting the events, "I was captured, detained, and then I woke up here strapped to a chair," The doctors hand returned to the button, "Everything else is blurry, aside from the fact that this electrocution stuff isn't new-"

The button was pressed again, he bit his cheek until he was sure the inside of it tore. He stifled screams to the best of his ability despite how much he wants too, at least he could still see straight.

"Do you know why we brought you here?" The doctor asked.

Jounouchi shook his head, "No."

"Because you have potential, all it requires is someone willing to drag it out," Their hand hovered to the button again, "Your one flaw is that you're full of them, this button can fix all of them in moderation."

He isn't moving anymore, he's only upright because of the pressure on his wrists. He can't force his knees straight, they just fold in on themselves again. His breathing, is he even breathing anymore? And his pulse, he seems to have misplaced in the midst of all the stress on his body. All he can do is hang his head in defeat, eyes glazed, he can't even meet Hirutanis gaze.

"Hey Hirutani he can't even talk anymore, he's just twitching now," Hirutani doesn't listen, he only stares harder at Jounouchi.

"Do it," It's an order and it barely registers in Jounouchis head.

"But if we keep going he'll die," They say quietly, hesitance clear as they hold up the taser.

"Do it," Venom is all that registers in Jounouchis head, the vitriolic hatred. He tries to focus on the prongs inching ever closer to him to deal the final blow but he can't and his eyes fall shut.

"Don't do this to me," Jounouchi is pleading, he's begging, again, a shock from his throat to his core. He cries out in agony, "Please make it stop!"

"Flaw number one," The doctor said, "Lack of stamina."

They press it again and watch as Jounouchi writhes in his seat, trying not to make a sound. He fails, stifled sobs tear through him

"Flaw number two," They speak again, "Inability to face your fears."

The button is held down this time and Jounouch is screaming, hot tears rolling down his face as he tries to pull off the collar. Restraints shoot out to grab his wrists and secure them to the armrests of the chair, smaller prongs on the leather.

"Flaw number three," They stand up, carrying a small remote, "Easy to panic."

The button is pressed again, Jounouchi screams once more, vision starting to blur. His skin tingles near the prongs, the muscles in his hands seize entirely. He sobs between screams and heavy breathing, he lets his head rest at a leaned angle.

"Flaw number four," They grip his hair and yank him back up, "Although minute, bad manners in the presence of someone else."

Gloved hands stay put in his hair as the button is pressed down on once more. It's like his screams fall on deaf ears, like his tears don't exist, like his agony is irrelevant. Here it comes, the disorientation, he remembers it vividly despite how blurry the entire taser ordeal was. He hates this part the most, how it meant he was so close to death, how much it felt like he was breathing his last breath every time he breathed.

"Please," He's begging, trying so hard to get it out on a raw voice despite the slight twitching. His ability to speak is gonna go in a couple more buzzes, "You'll kill me before you get what you want."

"And lastly, flaw number five," They release Jounouchis hair as they speak, "You beg too much to win anything."

They turn away to leave Jounouchi alone, the button remains on the table, a remote in their hand. The door opens and closes near silently, the lights dim down as if to accommodate for how blown open his pupils are.

His breathing staggers, his heartbeat is palpitating, skipping beats here and there. He wants to bring a hand up to clutch his chest or his neck but the restraints on his wrists remain. All that's left to do is scream out for help or just accept it- and he doesn't exactly want to die to a collar made for dogs if he does scream. So he stays silent, biting his tongue and just letting the situation wash over him even though he wants to wake up any second now and act like this isn't real.

He's heard that trauma dreams can be really fucked up, he wouldn't put it past his brain to concoct this scenario for some reason. But at the same time, pain has never hurt so much in any of his dreams before, it's only been a mild sting if at all. He tries to still the shaking in his form, the static on his clothing, anything to keep himself from just sobbing.

He wants to wake up but he can't and if he could he isn't sure if he would be able to.

[singeratlarge]

SONG OF THE WEEK: “The Brakeman’s Dead”http://johnnyjblairsingeratlarge.bandcamp.com/track/the-brakemans-dead-early-mix —It was during a live show with The Rover Boys that these chords and lyrics suddenly burst out of my head, each verse beginning with the line “Maybe about this time next year…” I sang whatever flew into my head, with vocabulary from Biblical apocalpyse themes + current events + runaway trains as the Rovers kept up. I did this freeform tune a few more times and it hit with people. So I took it to Tom Mallon’s recording studio in San Francisco (with the late Aaron Gregory at the board), cutting it live without a lyric sheet. I thrashed an acoustic guitar through a stack of Marshalls (ala The Alarm) with Bennett Green and John Stuart on drums (separate sessions), and Adam Savetsky on bass. Later I asked Michael Miller and Chris von Sneidern to add guitar touches in one take John Cage-style without letting them hear what the other guy was doing. Last I sweetened it with percussion (bottles & junk) and violin. On a cosmic jukebox it would play next to Neil Young & Crazy Horse at their most raucous. Download here: http://johnnyjblairsingeratlarge.bandcamp.com/track/the-brakemans-dead-early-mix

#train #steamtrain #locomotive #brakeman #engineer #conductor #NeilYoung #CrazyHorse #SanFrancisco #TomMallon #ChrisvonSneidern #MichaelMiller #AaronGregory #TheAlarm #MikePeters #BennettGreen #JohnStuart #Marshallamp #JohnnyJBlair #singeratlarge #singersongwriter

[emmetrain]

"A gym leader?" Black gloved hand raised to mouth as if trying to stifle a laugh, but there was no genuine attempt to do so as he broke out in hysterics, doubling over and clutching at his chest with both arms. before raising a single finger to wipe away an imaginary tear. "Ohhhh that is rrrrreally sad for you, actually! Pooooooor Emmet… I considered. For a while. Taking down the elite once more. Reigning as champion." A slight readjustment of new white coat, Rocket insignia partially visible on black turtleneck below.

"But a gym leader?! That is soooo below us. Well! Below me anyway!" Oh how the mighty have fallen. Battle facility operators were so much more revered than gym leaders- the lowest rung on the league's ladder. "Were you soooooo hurt by his departure that you had to ruin what you built together? Had to tear it apart and start anew because you could not bear to operate it in its current state? Were you angry? Sad? Did you feel unworthy? Tell me! I want to know! I want to know what emotion knocked you down so low!”

( rocket verse em to gym leader verse em ehehehehe!!! could technically be canon to our main rp but yeaaaaars later if u want <3 )

Emmet could only look away as he reached to his pocket, giving the emergency alarm reserved for the criminals who could dare hurt or steal their pokemon. And it felt like a betrayal, to consider his only family, REAL family, a danger. Emmet deserved Ingo after all. Traitors at the end.

He listened to his twin's laughter that lacked the softness it used to have. Once upon a time, they had no one but each other. Two younger brothers who were left behind. And now... Now, they were strangers. Not that Emmet wanted it. It had been... difficult, with how the things played out. With his dear Emmet's brother returned to him. With how... the gym leader almost died. He did not want to burden him. He did not want his twin to see him broken and beaten down. Bested by none other than the criminal organizations, one of which his dear twin was carrying the insignia of proudly.

Would his twin care if he knew what Emmet had suffered at their hands? What he had lost in that fire?

Did he care about him at all?

Pooor Emmet... That was all he was to him, then. Emmet bit down his lower lip to shock himself with pain to avoid bursting into tears. He could care less what his twin thought of his profession. Emmet loved being a gym leader. Emmet loved helping and cooking, battling and managing. He loved giving real badges instead of smiley stickers to trainers. He loved belonging somewhere, committing to and advocating for the fairy-type.

Below us... At least, there was a small hint of belonging in there. That there was still 'them'. There had been only two of them back then. Emmet could not dare to imagine where he would have ended up if he did not have his twin. Even now, after he was sure that Ingo was never his family, his twin had been the only family he had.

Well! Below me anyway! There went their connection, though Emmet felt it in his heart that it had been his fault. If he did not hate himself so much after the incident... If he did not fear the rejection after Ingo had returned to his twin... If he dared to be there for his twin, be near Emmet... They could have been stronger together. They could have been... friends still, at least.

Were you soooooo hurt by his departure that you had to ruin what you built together?

Emmet could only let out a scoff at that. After the incident spat him out half-a-man, tearing down and thrashing everything Ingo had left behind in their house had been the first thing he had done. With the arms he had lost, Emmet could only kick and tear and bite everything that made him believe Ingo could have returned, that Ingo would have cared.

They had been the same, bright-eyed conductors after all. It was only natural he could read him like an open book.

It didn't make it hurt any less.

Had to tear it apart and start anew because you could not bear to operate it in its current state?

The Battle Subway had become a nightmare after the incident. After realizing he had been thrown away like trash by his own brother. It had become too much to see people asking about him. Remembering him. Emmet had worked hard to keep Ingo's memory alive, and it had backfired on him. Everyone asked about where his older twin had been. Everyone offered their condolences after Ingo was declared dead by the official records due to the time frame.

It had been maddening, living under Ingo's shadow, even after what he had gone through and sacrificed alone for a chance to see Ingo again.

Were you angry? Sad? Did you feel unworthy?

Emmet chuckled bitterly as he avoided his twin's gaze. Anger had been the only constant for a while. Sadness, not so much. He used to feel sad all the time when he had been naive and verrrrrry pathetic. But now, he was only angry. Angry that he had been so stupid. Angry that he believed Ingo would return.

He should have died in that fire that day. At least then, Emmet would have died thinking Ingo still cared.

Now he knew better.

Emmet took a deep breath as he raised his gaze up slowly. Meeting the pair of eyes that held no love for him was crumbling his last shred of hope in family. In love.

"You still see through me, brother. I am sorry that we are both disappointed in each other's tracks," Emmet offered a soft smile as he tilted his head. "I wish you could still see the good in the people. I wish you did not bow to a master when you had been one. You know, I wish I could have been there for you. I would have never let you be used by the scum that is Team Rocket. I would have willingly sacrificed everything to keep you safe from them."

Their time was, unbeknownst to his taller twin, almost up. Soon, there would be officers coming in. Not that Emmet thought they could catch his twin. No.

It was just to avoid seeing him like this protect his gym.

"You were always the brightest and strongest one among us. I knew you could achieve great things. Even if the path you follow is a crooked one, I know you must be excellent at it. I would not expect anything less from you. I am only saddened that you chose to become someone's dog, that's all. Maybe that is what being a twin does. A curse to be obedient and follow the other. A burden to bear-- never feeling complete on your own. We will never be enough, will be?"

Emmet wiped off the tears he did not realize before, looking away in his embarrassment.

"I thought after you found your brother, you would not want me around. And after I was sure I was better off dead, I did not want to bother you again. It is not my profession you should be ashamed of. It is me. A broken toy my brother chose to discard without a second thought. And now... I see that I had been cursed to relive it. I am glad we had our fun, but you do not need a broken toy around anymore. At least, you had your fun seeing how far I had 'fallen'."

Emmet crossed his arms, but it was just his attempt to hug himself and pretend it had been his taller twin, like the old times.

"When you need a way out, you can call on me. I have given my life for Ingo who couldn't care less. I would give everything to you, Emmet, who used to treat me like I was his family. You are still, to me. My only brother. I am sorry that I never showed you how important you were to me."

"I am sorry."

[iunctura-arch]

"Welcome aboard the Astral Expr-- Hey, let go of me! I'm not a toy!" Pom-Pom struggled against the newcomer's grip. Sabata was examining the conductor with slight curiosity on his features while said conductor thrashed and struggled. Finally placed back on the floor, Pom-Pom adjusted his conductor's hat.

"As I was saying before you thought I was some sort of toy... Ahem. Welcome aboard the Astral Express! I'm Pom-Pom, the conductor, and it's my duty to make sure everyone's travels are as nice as possible!"

No, he's going to doubt that. Nice as possible? What a joke.

Hearing approaching footsteps, he glanced over as Pom-Pom turned to wave at the other passenger of the Express. Red eyes focused on her for a moment before he looked away.

"If you have a problem with me being on here, tell me now." He said. "I'm not one for two-faced idiots."

@doloniaxdiegesis

[dotengine]

10 रुपए के लिए महिला को चलती बस में कंडक्टर ने जड़े थप्पड़, वायरल हुआ वीडियो - Conductor thrashes female passenger for not taking ticket in bus viral video lclg

हरियाणा के रेवाड़ी में महिला को भरी बस में कंडक्टर द्वारा पीटा गया है. मारपीट की इस घटना का वीडियो भी सामने आया है. सोशल मीडिया पर वीडियो वायरल हो रहा है. घटना सामने आने के बाद पुलिस ने बस को जब्त कर लिया और आरोपी कंडक्टर और बस ड्राइवर को हिरासत में ले लिया है. पुलिस मामले में आगे की कार्रवाई कर रही है. सामने आया है कि पूरा विवाद बस का टिकट नहीं लेने पर हुआ था. केवल 10 रुपए के चक्कर में यह विवाद…

[brightpunjabexpress]

Case to regularize contractual drivers & conductors of Roadways sent to Cabinet sub-committee: Laljit Singh Bhullar

Case to regularize contractual drivers & conductors of Roadways sent to Cabinet sub-committee: Laljit Singh Bhullar

Transport Minister asks SSP for strict action against police personnel who thrashed PRTC conductor at Naushehra Pannuan Instructs Secretary Transport to initiate action to fill posts on compassionate ground in Roadways ‘Government will consider jobs to kin of deceased outsourced driver/conductor’ Cabinet Minister lends sympathetic ear to demands of Punjab Roadways/Punbus and PRTC Chandigarh,…

[squarwell-breakingnews]

Watch: Bhopal Bus Conductor Asked Passenger To Pay Full Fare. This Is How He Responded

Watch: Bhopal Bus Conductor Asked Passenger To Pay Full Fare. This Is How He Responded

The video shows the passenger refusing to listen to the conductor . A video gaining traction on social media shows a passenger thrashing a city bus conductor in Madhya Pradesh’s capital Bhopal after an argument over fare. The incident took place on Tuesday around 10 am when the passenger, an NCC cadet, boarded the bus near the Board office for police headquarters. The entire incident was…