Nobody bleeds for the dancer

DEVILMAN CRYBABY

COW-T #11, w6, m4

Everything will work out in the end. And if it's not working out, it's not the end.

541 w

 

"Everything will work out in the end", Miki tells him and Akira really wishes he could believe her. 

He nods, because he can't tell her, and keeps crying. She frets, of course, she puts the kettle on to make some tea, even if they have run out of leaves and even the teabags have all been used twice. Miki insists she's perfectly capable of going to the market and buying some, but Akira puts down his feet - for the first time ever - and tells her he knows better, just this once he does, so, please, please, don't leave the flat without him. Don't leave the flat at all. 

Miki chuckles, hiding the worry behind her smile. She thinks Akira is gone mad, he has finally lost it to paranoia. She thinks he's so scared of something that doesn't exist. 

Except. 

Except she can smell it in the air. There something wrong, something that doesn't click right. People have been behaving weirdly and out of character, murders and disappearances have skyrocketed and she can't silence the part of herself that's silently relieved he's taking care of the groceries. 

She wonders what will happen when the summer break ends and she'll have to decide between going back or staying home, feeding Akira's paranoia, getting even more involved in this craziness her sixth sense is telling her it's true - the more irrational part of herself, the primordial human being that needed to be acutely aware of every danger if they wanted to see another dawn and another and another, never relenting their watch because doing so meant being taken. 

"Everything will work out in the end," she tells herself. The police will do something. People will go back to normal, they just need the first breeze of autumn to cool their minds. She needs the comfort of those empty words, even if as she looks out of the window, there's a trashcan burning in the corner of the street and it has been burning for days now. She wasn't there, looking outside from her privileged viewpoint, when the firefighters had come. Akira was and he just looked as they feed the fire. 

He didn't tell her, of course. He prefers her to think him mad - he is mad, after all, along with the rest of the world - instead of shattering her sanity. 

And what could he tell her, after all? That demons have been awakened to break havoc on Earth and that's not even the first time? That they're sealed in this carousel of blood and pointless slaughter and despair. 

No, he can't tell her. Even if in a mad world, only the mads are sane, she doesn't need to know better. 

"Everything will work out in the end." She keeps saying it as a mantra, feeling the sense drain out of it. "And if it's not working out, it's not the end."

She doesn't know what's happening, she doesn't know this will never end. 

Akira clutches his fists, seals Amon deeper inside himself, refusing to let him out. He wonders if this time around it will change anything.

Lessons learnt

 BEASTARS

Bill/Pina pre-slash

COW-T #11, w6, m4

I tend to think emotions are for ugly people.

561 w

Bill crosses his arms over his chest, and the Dall sheep cannot /not notice the way his biceps bulge when he does it. 

"Pina, you are late" the tiger scolds him, annoyed. 

"Yes, well, I had a little bit of an accident," Pina smiles, playing with a lock of his hair in a way that should be flirty and charming. 

It completely fails to provoca a reaction in the tiger, though. 

"Oh, let me guess? It involved a girl?" he deadpans, not slightly amused. "You called her by another name. Or she saw you professing your undying love to another girl."

"Why does it have to be my fault?" Pina has the nerve to look affronted.

"Because I know you," Bill rolls his eyes, but lets his arms fall to his sides - which is a pity because, herbivore or not, Pina was salivating at the sight, but at least it means Bill's not really angry with him. "And I know you tend to think emotions are for ugly people, so you take care of having none." 

"Now that's a little bit too hash,"  the Dall sheep playfully hits him on the shoulder. "But finally, you're admitting I'm beautiful." 

It catches Bill a little bit off guard, and the tiger blushes under his fur - the first sign he has shown of being even remotely fazed by him. 

"That's - that's not what I said!" he cries out. "That's what you think about yourself." 

"Oh," Pina presses a hand against his chest, in a melodramatic way. "You hurt me. So you don't think I'm beautiful?" 

Bill reddens deeper, desperately trying to avoid the question. 

Of course, he thinks Pina is beautiful. The whole school thinks it, and they are all in the right. Even if he has taken his place, Pina doesn't have the same charisma Louis had, the same commanding aura that made you think you could follow him to Hell and back if he so ordered,  but damn, he's way prettier than the red deer could have hope to be and that is power in its own way. 

Louis was a loner constantly looking for approval, one you would never be able to come close enough to touch no matter how hard you tried - Pina is a social animal, the affable guy always surrounding himself with people he doesn't give a fuck about, discarding them on his way as plastic wrappers once the candies are eaten. 

Pina looks at him with expectant eyes, and Bill knows he can't lie, and he knows he can't tell the truth. 

"I supposed you could be considered beautiful," he smirks instead, putting up a smugness he doesn't feel "if you like the type." 

He sees the disappointment in his features and somehow he feels the need to reassure him he was just joking. 

"And do you like the type?" Pina tries again, because no one had ever been able to resist him that long, but Bill shakes his head with a chuckle. 

"Why Pina, I don't swing that way."

"Guys?" 

"Herbivores. I've learnt my lessons."

And he has all right. Pina presence is all but the living proof of what happens when a carnivore, like perhaps a grey wolf, takes interest in a herbivore, like perhaps a red deer. 

The stars you sacrifice

SHE-RA

Castaspella/Light Spinner | Shadow Weaver, implied Catra/Adora

COW-T #11, w6, m4

I can’t wait to see how this turns out.

553 w

It’s history repeating itself. 

Shadow Weaver folds her hands together and hides a smirk behind her mask. 

Catra’s face contracts in anger, she purses her lips, as if she’s ready to spit out every wrongness that ever happened to her. 

‘Go on, tell me,’ Shadow Weaver would press her, but she doesn’t think Catra will actually talk. Not yet, so she waits. 

And Catra clenches her fists and breaths raggedly, but she doesn’t say it.

Shadow Weaver is not really disappointed. There will come a time when Catra will yell it at her. 

‘Why do you always choose Adora?’

It has already happened and indeed, this is history repeating itself. 

‘Oh, Catra,’ Shadow Weaver would say then, even feeling sorry for her, ’You don’t get it. None of you ever did. It’s not about the person. It’s about the power.’

* * * 

“Why do you always choose Micah?” Castaspella asked, and there were tears in her eyes.

Light Spinner, the woman that still had a heart, didn’t know how to reply. Because he was the eldest? Because he would become the king? Because he was more powerful? 

Light Spinner didn’t reply at all, because right then she didn’t know better than to tell her what she wanted to hear. 

“Answer me!” Castaspella yelled and clenched her fist. 

She was young, oh so very young, and naive and perfect and Light Spinner didn’t want to hurt her, she never had wanted it - but what was she to do when Micah had so much power, so much potential? He was the one she should be teaching, regardless of what she thought of the girl. 

That was the truth and Light Spinner knew she could not tell her. 

"Answer me!" Castaspella cried again and then she trew herself at her. 

It was so sudden, Light Spinner didn't even think about protecting herself, but it wasn't that. 

Castaspella kissed her. 

Oh. 

Oh, now it all made sense. 

But Light Spinner, the woman that still had a heart and hadn’t been consumed by magic yet, grabbed her shoulder and pushed. 

“Castaspella..." she pleaded. She wouldn't lie to her, no, she wouldn't tell her she hadn't felt it, the spark between them, but this could not happen, Light Spinner could not be... involved. “This is not the way.”  

She saw it in her eyes, the moment her heart broke, just before tears began to roll down her cheeks. "Why won't you love me too?"

* * * 

It’s history repeating itself, and it’s ironic, really. 

Catra won’t fly herself at her, she knows it. 

It won’t happen that way, simply because Shadow Weaver is her mother, too deeply involved in her and Adora’s growth to be seen as Castaspella saw her back when she was still Light Spinner. And also because Catra may not be seeing it yet, but that place in her heart - the one Catra wants to fill with approval and pride and love - is already owned by Adora. 

‘Why do you always choose Adora?’ when actually the question should be ‘Why won’t Adora choose me?’

So it’s history repeating itself.

But not quite. And she can’t wait to see how this will turn out.

 

Life is a theatre

BEASTARS

Louis/Legosi 
(è iniziata come una Boris!AU e si è persa per strada) 
COW-T #11, w6, m4

Let me ask you a very fair question: what do you do successfully? Quickly. 

781 w

 

Non doveva andare così la sua vita. 

Louis sbatte la testa contro la macchina da presa. Le sue corna cozzano contro il vetro e il cervo si paralizza per un istante. 

Ti prego non esserti rotta, ti prego non esserti rotta. 

Sarebbe la terza questa settimana e per quanto Louis si atteggi a padrone del mondo i suoi produttori potrebbero chiedere la sua testa montata al muro della direzione se dovessero sostituire un’altra cinepresa così presto. 

Il fatto è che Louis aveva una carriera da attore davanti, lunga e meravigliosa. 

Forse. 

Perché per quanto creda in sé stesso, il cervo è anche un attento pianificatore e lo sa benissimo che non tutti gli attori possono continuare oltre il momento in cui la bella presenza lascia il posto all’età - non possono essere mica tutti Seal Connery, che può ancora fare il lead con Cathrine Zebra Jones accanto come interesse amoroso nonostante il fatto che potrebbe essere suo nonno. 

Così Louis aveva accettato uno stupido lavoro dietro le quinte, perché lo sanno tutti che si comincia come attori e poi si diventa produttori, ma intanto lo hanno incastrato alla regia, perché Louis era dannatamente bravo a gestire gli attori della sua compagnia al liceo e a dir loro esattamente cosa dovessero fare e come. Solo che gli attori che gestiva al liceo erano dannatamente migliori di questi - sedicenni scapestrati con più talento dei cani, letterali e metaforici, che si trova a gestire ora. 

Quando si è rotto lui un piede in teatro ci è andato lo stesso, perché lo spettacolo doveva continuare. Ora invece si ritrova con un attore in meno, senza nessuna sostituzione disponibile e nemmeno il tempo per trovarlo un altro che prenda il suo posto. 

Beh, in realtà... 

"Legosi!" Louis chiama e Legosi accorre immediatamente. 

Sì, certo è alto tanto quanto l'attore, e poi la sua faccia sarebbe coperta quindi tanto meglio, inoltre ricorda la sua performance quando ha sostituito Bill come spirito durante la rappresentazione di Adler e - scazzottate sul palco a parte - era stato piuttosto bravino. 

"Avevi bisogno di qualcosa, Louis?" 

"Lascia che ti faccia una bella domanda: cos'è che ti riesce bene fare? Veloce." 

"Ma - ma - Niente! Io sono un tecnico delle luci, Louis, lo sai."

"No," Louis batte il piede a terra. "Sbagliato. Ti riesce estremamente bene fare il paladino della giustizia, appoggiare cause perse e tutte quelle stronzate lì. Per cui adesso mi serve che tu vada di là, ti infili il costume di scena di quell'impedito e mi porti davanti alle videocamere la migliore interpretazione di un anti-eroe che io abbia mai visto, perchè per Rex e tutti i suoi dinosauri, quel dannato personaggio sei tu!" 

"Ma Louis, io non - io non posso!" 

Louis si massaggia le tempie, e sospira. "Qualsiasi cosa." 

"Come?" 

"Puoi farlo, io lo so, e mi serve che tu lo faccia, perciò qualsiasi cosa. Puoi chiedermi qualsiasi cosa e io ti accontenterò." 

"Stai scherzando?" Legosi lo fissa stupito per un istante. "Ma... no! Louis non dovresti andare in giro a offrire contratti in bianco a chiunque!" 

"Al momento ti offrirei persino la mia gamba, Legosi. E poi tu non sei chiunque." 

è la professione di fiducia, più di ogni altra cosa, più della disperazione del suo tono e l'offerta in bianco, a fargli accettare. 

"Va bene," il lupo annuisce, "Va bene, lo faccio." 

E per miracolo, la scena viene bene al primo colpo - e pazienza se le luci sono troppo aperte e smarmellate perché non c'era nessun tecnico ad occuparnese.  

"Quindi," chiede Louis alla fine della giornata di riprese, quando il resto della troupe se ne sta andando e sul set sono rimasti solo lui e il lupo ancora alle prese con tentativi infruttosi di struccarsi, "hai pensato a cosa vuoi da me?" 

Legosi si volta, evidentemente imbarazzato, ma non con un'espressione determinata sul volto. "Una cena." 

"Guarda che scherzavo quando ti ho offerto la mia gamba." 

Legosi diventa ancora più rosso e i suoi occhi si spalancano dalla sorpresa. "No! Io -!" 

Louis ride, e poi gli dà una pacca sulla spalla, cercando di rassicurarlo. "Scherzavo. Di nuovo. Per Rex, Legosi, dovresti rilassarti un po'." 

Quando il lupo non risponde, troppo impegnato ad incassare la testa tra le spalle e sembrare più piccolo di quanto non sia, Louis riflette che forse non gli ha chiesto soltanto una cena. Ma davvero. Questa poi non se l'aspettava. 

"Va bene, va bene, una cena. Preferenze sul posto?"

Legosi scossa la testa, "No, no, dove vuoi tu va bene." 

"Pensi che dovrei cercare un posto romantico?" 

"Io..." 

"Sì, no? Veloce, Legosi." 

"Sì?" 

"Eccellente, ti passo a prendere stasera alle 20. Due ore dovrebbero bastarti per capire come riuscire a togliere quel trucco."