An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
[ Tei washes the dishes with the motions of someone whoās definitely had to do it to make a living. āYou work at a restaurant or something?ā Mutsuko asks.
āCafe,ā Tei answers.
Well, that explains the stupid getup. They stop talking after that.
The morning after, Tei keeps his word. Breakfast is pretty good and Mutsuko got to sleep in because of him, much to Yaitabashiās chagrin.Ā
Maybe this wonāt be so bad. ]
Ā In which the author wanted to give Nishiguchi and Tei the cooking episode they deserved.
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[ āHey man,ā Kai speaks up abruptly, pointing a finger at the other. āIs your hair dyed?ā
Damon pauses, his green eyes looking up to stare at him through the mirror. He appears taken aback for a split second before resuming his resting bitch face.
ā...You just noticed?ā ]
Ā In which Tozu forgets to stock up the hair dye. Which led to something very slash not-at-all important for Damon Maitsu.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
[ Ivan stares at his hand for so long that it takes him a moment for his eyes to adjust to the actual drawing.
ā...Costumes?ā
āItās for after when we break auditions,ā Till explains, lips pursed into a pout.
Ivan stares down at the sketchbook once more. āāWeā?ā
āMizi and me,ā the little artist says, words shy but firm. Determined.
Ivan drags his black eyes up to look into Tillās green ones. āMizi and I.ā
āShut. Up.ā
āYou said that earlier.ā
Till turns away to continue drawing. Ivan follows. ]
When Till was a child, he'd designed his stage outfit. Ivan keeps this in mind, and presents the drawing in one of his final moments... as a gift of sorts.
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An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Summary:
[ The same body that had torn apart Duke Infernoās entire being until only ashes remained, the same form that had killed thousands, perhaps even millions before himā¦ the same one that makes Black Swanās heart leap in her throatā¦
Can that really also be the woman dipping her down over the dance floor?
Before Black Swan can find an answer to that, the beautiful Ranger(?) props her back onto her feet, the one eye not hidden underneath dark purple hair gazing at her. That concerned expression still remained. Aloof, yet tender.
It was all so absurd.
āThat was my first time dancing with another in a while,ā she tells her. The Memokeeper, still in a daze, huffs out a laugh.
āI could hardly tell.ā ]
The events that followed after Acheron and Black Swan's dance.
If not attending business meetings or gambling away in casinos, Aventurine can instead be found at nightclubs, with a brightly colored drink swirling leisurely in his hand.
He finds that he rather likes the atmosphere of the nightlife, with the darkness of the night providing a safe cover for him and any other partygoers, the loud roar of drunken clients drowning out any secrets or sorrows, and the blaring neon lights a distraction from the meaningless toil of the day. The energy of the party sweeps one away in a tsunami of alcohol and laughter and hands that wander where they shouldn't.
Aventurine takes another sip of his beverage - a margarita this time - and savors the slight burn as it slides down his throat. His elbow rests casually on the bar counter as he simply takes in the delirious atmosphere.
He doesn't remember which glass he's on now, nor does he particularly care. All Aventurine needs to bother with is keeping his drink covered and his wit still relatively intact, and a few measly glasses isn't enough to win him over.
Still, it doesn't mean that the alcohol isn't taking its effect on him. While Aventurine's eyes are as sharp as ever, both observing the ridiculous acts of drunken clients with almost sadistic amusement and keeping an eye out for any malicious intent, he can't deny the warm tingle in the back of his head that comes with his drinks.
He lets out a content sigh into the alcohol-laced air, raising his gaze to the multicolored ceiling.
Yes, this was perfect for him, he muses, a bitter smile on his face. This was where he belonged, in a twisted sanctuary for people to temporarily drink and party themselves out of reality. This was the only place left for people like him.
"I thought I might find you here."
As if by habit, Aventurine chuckles, straightening his posture. Taking another sip of his drink, he takes his time turning to you and meeting your disapproving gaze.
"Well, if it isn't my favorite assistant," he hums, the glass still hovering above his lips, the nectar within just a few bits away from pouring into his mouth. "What brings you all the way here?"
As he doesn't already know the answer.
"You, who else?" You sound exasperated, but your words bring upon satisfaction as his smile grows wider.
"Aww," Aventurine coos. He downs the rest of his drink, setting it down on the bar before leaning on the counter towards you, propping his head up on his palm. "Was someone worried about me?"
Again, he eagerly awaits for your answer.
You give him a tired look, one that he's seen many, many times in his career. Yet you decide to indulge him, a defeated sigh leaving you.
"Obviously," you say bluntly. "You'll destroy your liver at this rate."
Aventurine laughs good-naturedly, the corners of his mesmerizing eyes crinkling.
"Well, aren't you sweet."
He pushes himself off the counter to stand, and shrugs on the fur coat that was hanging off his stool. With a gloved finger, he tips your chin towards him.
"I must apologize for worrying you, my dear," he says sweetly. You furrow your brows at the nickname, but Aventurine pays no mind as he quickly pays off his tab and saunters off to the building's exit. He looks back at you, amusement flickering behind those rose-tinted glasses as you stare at him, dumbfounded yet too tired to care for his antics. "Aren't you going to see me home?"
You don't remember saying anything of the sort, and Aventurine knows this, but in the end, he's still your boss and you have to do what he asks of you.
Reluctantly, you follow him out. Aventurine slings an arm around you as you come close and pulls you flush against his side as you walk down the streets of the city. When you don't protest, but rather, subtly lean into his hold, Aventurine internally breathes a sign of relief.
He doesn't treat anyone else like this, much less a subordinate. The Amber Lord knows what people have been whispering about the two of you at headquarters. But he can't help it, not when you're the only one to actively seek him out and not push him away, as annoyed with him as you sound.
Something about that attracts him to you, as much as he hates to admit it. Time and time again, whenever you take the time out of your already busy work schedule to check on him, like now, he can't stop his heart from beating a little bit faster.
"Your breath reeks of alcohol," you comment, pulling him out of his thoughts.
"Is that so?" Aventurine hums thoughtfully. "I wonder why."
You roll your eyes. "If you need a distraction that badly, have you tried seeking therapy?"
"That's hardly a distraction, my dear," Aventurine chuckles. "No, unless you can come up with a better idea, I think I'll stick to the clubs."
"Or you could come to me."
You expect another laugh, but instead, Aventurine stiffens as if shocked by a lightning bolt. His eyes widen, his mouth slightly agape as he stares at you. But by the time you notice and look back to him, Aventurine's smile is back, only this time, something dark lingers behind his irises.
"Hm, I don't know about that one," he says easily, his arm falling back to his side as he quickens his pace. "You know, it isn't nice to say things you don't mean."
Indignation flashes across your face, and something in Aventurine's chest tightens.
"Sir-"
And yet, he persists despite himself.
"We should get going."
His tone is flat, still lighthearted, but warning this time. You open your mouth to protest, but think better of it and shut your lips.
The walk back to the car is quiet, deafeningly so. You still walk by Aventurine's side, but now, there's a considerable distance between you two.
Aventurine's fingers twitch, and for a moment, he almost reaches towards you, only to catch himself and reign his hand back to his side. Closing his eyes, he takes a deep breath and calms himself.
Yes, this is how it should be, he thinks to himself as he enters the car. He leans on the door and gazes outside at the nightclub, still raving despite it all.
An escape, a distraction, that was what he sought out most. But it couldn't come from you.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Summary:
[ The black-haired boy stares down at the flower once more, watches it lie motionlessly on the āgrassā. He cups his hands to his mouth. To make his words more intimate, he supposes. Why, he doesnāt know. Heās the only one here now.
āCheer up,ā he murmurs.
The flower says nothing, for it is a flower.
Itās awfully quiet.
āYou can do it,ā Ivan tells it. His knees ache from being on the ground for that extended period of time.
Theyāre not the only things hurting, though. ]
Inspired by an official art, "cheer up". In which Ivan does his best... but it's probably futile anyway. Just like that red flower.
Ruth Flemming has only ever wanted to be loved. The only girl in a small friend group of nerds, Ruth is constantly told (and telling herself) that she will never know what it feels like to be wanted. People tell her to die every day.
Ruth isn't seen as a girl. She's seen as a nerd. That's her entire identity. She craves to be touched not just because she's unbelievably horny, but because it would mean someone wants to touch her; it would mean someone thinks she's worth that level of intimacy. She would be someone.
When you watch coming of age movies and you get to the part where the guy sees the girl for the first time and the world stops and maybe their hands touch as they reach for some fallen items and there's such an intense electricity that they have to pull their hands and flinch away--that's all Ruth Flemming has ever wanted. To be the girl in the movie.
In her final moments, Ruth gets her standalone moment. She gets an entire song where she not only gets to sing, but monologue and act and act out being the girl of a movie (even if this girl is now middle-aged and overlooked and unwanted; the latter of which being how Ruth feels about herself). I could say so much about Just For Once, I know many people dislike that song but I think it's genius, especially in conjugation with the rest of the development and twists that NPMD places on different typical 2000's movie tropes, such as Richie's development and death. But I'm veering off track.
She has just done something she's wanted to do for a long time. She acted. Even if it was just for herself, it was a start. Much like Richie starting to feel acceptance from the football team, Ruth is starting to feel a small build of confidence.
And then Max destroys it.
Not only does he mock her performance, but he kills her in the most painful possible way I can imagine Ruth being killed; a fucking wedgie. Obviously this continues the theme of Max killing his victims with extreme bullying methods (though this only happens to his first two victims, Richie and Ruth), but it's more than that. How often do you hear of a girl getting wedgied? I know it sounds ridiculous to read, but really. Think about it. You don't. And this brings me back to my earlier point; Ruth isn't seen as a girl. She's just a nerd. And nerd's get wedgied all the time. In Ruth's final moments, Max destroys everything Ruth had just built up. She's not a girl, she doesn't get her moment, she's a bad actor ("You SUCK, Flemwad!"), and the past five minutes that she had to feel herself and perform are now tarnished by the knowledge that she was being watched and the watcher wasn't a fan of what they saw. Max does more than take away Ruth's life, he takes her spirit.
I love you Ruth Flemming. You deserve the world, you deserve the Globe Theatre, you deserve love and you deserve attention and you deserve life.
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Hey! You might not know me that much, as Iām not active in the DRDTheory community, as Iāve dubbed it, but my name is Blanket! Technically, this is a work of collaboration between the majority of DRDT Twitter, but itās mainly just an analysis of stuff I couldnāt do by myself.
summary ā Betrayal. They are merely a bunch of traitors in your eyesā¦
cw ā gn!reader; swearing
includes ā Blade; Kafka; Silver Wolf
notes ā The calm before the storm (Iāll make you all suffer because Iām not feeling well)
mlist
word count ā 0.9k
requested ? no
The whole room was dead silent. A deafening and overwhelming silence. The windows open let some fresh air enter inside. The breeze was nothing but cold and harsh against your skin.
Your fists were clenched. Knuckles going white with your nails digging into your skin. Your teeth gritted painfully, the sensation making you shudder in distaste. But you couldnāt help yourself.
Kafka was looking at you with a smile. Her eyes held no remorse, no guilt for her actions. She even seemed proud of it. Proud of how much she hurt your heart, the betrayal fresh in your mind.
Blade was good at hiding his feelings. Yet, in the back of his eyes, you could see a tiny light of remorse. It wasnāt like he was going to admit he was culpable though.
Silver Wolf was simply munching on her chewing-gum, unbothered by your sudden outburst. She kinda expected it at the news that made you into the mess you are.
Your eyes were watery. Betrayal. They are all nothing but traitors. Itās like it runs in their blood to be a bunch of traitors. Is it a criteria to be like that to enter the Stellaron Hunter ?
You gulped down hard. Unable to know what to say or do. Your eyebrows furrowed as your eyes narrowed, digging daggers into each of them as your gaze flickered from one to another.
āSo ?ā Kafkaās tone was mischievous. She was taunting you.
It made you scrunch your face in disgust. How dare she say that to you ? You, who gave her all of your trust blindly. You were so truthful, believing all of her words and listening to all she said to you.
āKafka. Please.ā Bladeās voice broke the silence, your glare softening as you looked at him.
He looked intimidating, he always did. However, out of the whole bunch, he seemed like the only one slightly on your side. He participated, but it felt more like an obligation to not betray those he knew for much longer than you.
āStop babying them Blade.ā Silver Wolf declared in an almost singing voice, playing something on her phone.
Her indifference to the whole situation made your stomach turn, a pit forming in the deepest parts of your body. How could she be so calm and unbothered by all of it ?
āYouā¦ you played with meā¦! Fucking traitors !ā Your voice cracked at the end of the sentence. You were deeply hurt by their actions.
Why ? How ? You did everything for them, everything !
āCan you shut up, stop being so dramatic and sit back down ? Itās your turn dumbass !ā Silver Wolf broke you in your panic and sadness, clearly annoyed.
She pointed at the Monopoly on the table, her eyebrow raised.
āThe game wonāt play itself !ā She put her hands on her hips, glaring at you with a small pout.
āIām in jail ! And whoās fault is it ?!ā You retorted back to her with a loud huff, crossing your arms and turning around.
āI fucking trusted you and went into the bathroom thinking you wonāt touch the dices !ā You then pointed to Kafka who only chuckled in response to your accusations.
āCome on, itās funny. Isnāt it Bladie ?ā
She playfully hit him gently with her shoulder, a smirk on her face. He only made a ātskā sound with his tongue, looking away and closing his eyes.
āYou didnāt even defend me !ā
His face grew red. You were right, he didnāt. He actually enjoyed your demise, you did that to him more than once. Kafka and Silver Wolf wanted you to get a taste of your own actions.
All of this only flustered him.
The two girls gave each other a high five as you groaned, sitting back in your seat and playing as they giggled together.
Silver Wolf then put an arm around Bladeās shoulders, then she patted his back as he threw the dices after you.
āThere, you got your revenge. Didnāt you ?ā Her tone was teasing. She knew very much how embarrassed he was.
āI never asked for revengeā¦ā His voice was low. If the room wasnāt so silent right now, probably no one would have heard it. Kafka and Silver Wolf only laughed at his words.
āYou enjoy their misery as much as us.ā Kafka playfully noted.
She was kinda right.
Seeing you groaning and being so dramatic was definitely funny knowing how dangerous you were really. He shook his head, smiling a bit and letting out a small chuckle.
āYouāre unbelievableā¦ā
The two girls only smiled mischievously at him. Pointing down at the same time at the dices he just threw. His face turned pale and he looked at them in horror.
He groaned and slumped back in his seat. You looked at the dices, before counting the cases on the board. You let out a snicker before going up and opening your arms.
āCome here, my jail roommate !ā You said happily, throwing yourself over him.
He tried to pull you off gently, groaning as you started to ugly cry on his shoulder. Whispering that you two were now in this together and you werenāt mad.
He let out a sigh.
A scream interrupted the two of you, making you look at a shocked Silver Wolf who stared at the board, then at Kafka.
āYou promised !ā
Kafka smiled devilishly at her.
āI said until both of them were in jail Silvie.ā Her smile widened as she got up and forced Silver Wolf to put her character in the jail next to you two characters.
She put both hands on her hips, smiling widely.
āWhat a beautiful game !ā
The three of you, now in jail, looked at each other, then nodded. Youāll get your revenge.
