Hello and welcome to my Dead as Disco x reader blog! Feel free to call me Yakuza (yeah... the japanese mafia) or Sherry, if you don't wanna do that. This is actually my first time attempting to regularly post on Tumblr in such a manner, so if my posts look chopped, that's why. You only learn through experience!
Currently no schedule due to motivation issus + feeling out the process. This is my first time trying something like this so be patient, please!
Do's
FemPOV or AnyPOV
I've written fanfiction since probably before highschool. This is just what I'm most familiar with! In fact, I might mess up AnyPOV, but I'll just make sure I proofread those to try and avoid this mistake.
(N)SFW
I an an adult... and I'm only a woman...
Many dynamics!
This is not limited to romantic! You can also request platonic or familial dynamics! (or a secret other thing I missed...?)
Headcanons
This is something I'd like to mostly do! Bulleted points, no strict story flow, just some ideas thrown on the metaphorical paper!
One-shots
This would be a short story with a plot! Longer, no bulleted lists! Feel free to check my AO3 for ideas on my writing. One-shots should only contain one shipped person UNLESS it's a polyarmorous relationship. Just feel free to send a second request, if you want one plotline for multiple people!
Chatting!
I would love to get to know some folks and talk about headcanons. You're free to even disagree with me in the comments of posts, as long as you keep it civil!
Don'ts
Canon x Canon
Sorry, discomachine lovers (I am discomachine lovers...). I just want to keep the sanctity of the blog and keep it for reader inserts only!
Unrealeased Idols
I just don't feel comfortable with them! But fret not, as soon as idols release and I've done their fights/quests, I will add them to the list!
Explicit depictions of drug (ab)use, violence, or gore
I just don't feel comfortable with it :( And I'd rather not misrepresent anything. I will, of course, stay with canon-typical violence, but not any gore. Canon-typical violence will be tagged when applicable!
Problematic topics
Things targeting minors in inappropriate manners is mostly what I mean by this bullet! Will add more when they come up.
MalePOV
For as many times as I've been disappointed by a man, I don't want to return that energy, so I'd rather keep my thumb out of that pie. I'm not a man, and I don't really wanna write for one.
18+ blog!
While not all of my posts will be, I fully intend to get into adult topics, so the blog will be 18+. If I remember, there'll be a warning at the start of each post.
Right to refuse
I maintain the right to refuse to do a request that gets sent in. Sometimes, I'm just not comfortable with a topic, and I don't need to justify myself to people on Tumblr dot com.
Busy life
I work! I stream! My life outside of Tumblr means I won't be online all the time, and requests might be slow. I'll do my best to get around to them eventually, though.
Anti-AI
I am against the use of generative AI. I don't use it for my writing, and I'll warn to NOT feed my writing to AI. Sucks that this warning is even needed, but we live in a new era.
About me art done by me, icons done by lambmortician, post headers are official Dead as Disco art by the people working at Brain Jar Games.
Yes he does! I know that he's got a song in the game, and he's talked about sometimes, but we don't have a fight with him yet and there's no official model for him, so he counts as unreleased! But if you look through the dead as disco tag, a bunch of people have been making fan designs for Benny, if you want more content of him!
I'm assuming that requests are now open again since your ask button says send me something. If I'm reading it wrong tell me. But I'd like to reiterate my request of how the band would react to a reader who gets frequent nosebleeds just to see which one of them is most likely to faint at the sight of blood. (I think it's Dex because it's funny)
Which member is more squeamish?
cw: mentions of blood loss/nosebleeds. AnyPOV.
a/n: It’s so funny that you mention Dex bc I also think it’s him lol
Arora
Arora really isn’t going to get squeamish at anything. She’s a robot.
This probably means that she has protocols for plenty of blood-loss inducing injuries.
She’s got medical procedures in her programming, so she can at least do surface level things when it comes to getting injured.
(She’ll always iterate that she’s not a medical professional and that one should seek a doctor, after she helps someone)
So she is concerned about your frequent nosebleeds, but she’s not uncomfortable in the slightest.
“Another anterior epistaxis? You aren’t picking your nose, are you?” <- She’s just teasing you with this one.
When she realizes how common your nosebleeds are, she decides to just stay prepared for any situation.
She’ll constantly have tissues on her. Where is she keeping them? Arora won’t answer you when you ask her.
When you two make it to a new location, she’ll update you on the air conditions. If it’s too dry, she’ll offer a nasal spray she seemed to pull out of nowhere.
You try to tell her that she’s doing too much, but she hits you with the “Is it so bad to want to prevent you from bleeding? I hate seeing you like that.”
And when you cave in and let her continue, she’ll giggle innocently, knowing that she won.
Charlie Disco
Charlie is the type of guy to lay in a hospital and say “The doc said all the bleeding is internal. That’s where the blood is supposed to be!”
So he’s pretty casual about obtaining injuries. He’s seen plenty of bruises and blood and scraped skin and cuts.
He hovers the moment he sees you injured, however. He’s like a fretting mother when he sees you hurt.
“Here, take these tissues. Oh, tilt your head back.”
He won’t know the best ways to help you, just what he does in that situation (you shouldn’t tilt your head back during a nosebleed). This means that sometimes, helping you is a learning process.
He keeps loose tissues in his jacket pocket for you. He goes to pull one out, and a handful of them fall to the floor in the process. “Shoot,” he mumbles as he picks up the fallen tissues.
So again, not uncomfortable or grossed out, but mostly concerned about you.
Deckard “Dex” Voltaire
When he sees your nose bleeding, Dex will always curl his upper lip in disgust. It’s gross to him.
It gets even worse when he sees you tossing tissues aside and they’re just coated in blood. It makes him tense up.
Dex tries to leave, but you ask him to get you something in the middle of one of your nosebleeds. He hesitates, looking anywhere but you.
“Just get it yourself,” he tells you, but it comes out more as a question than a command.
You tell him that you’re in the middle of something and to not be a dick. He goes to get what you asked of him after that.
However, when he returns, he refuses to look your way as he hands the thing over to you. You ask him what his problem is, and he just scoffs.
“That’s gross. It’s not like I’m the weird one for thinking you bleeding from your nose is disgusting.”
You laugh a little. You never expected that emo to be so adverse to blood. “Are you scared of it or something?”
“I’m not scared of blood,” he snaps at you, but quickly looks away afterwards. “It’s just gross.”
“It’s just blood vessels in my nose. You have it too.”
Dex quickly tells you to shut up and stop bleeding already.
He’s not exactly the most reliable person to help you when you get a nosebleed.
Hemlock
You can’t convince me this guy doesn’t get in a lot of fights.
So obviously, Hemlock is used to a lot of injuries, and blood doesn’t turn him off (can’t exactly say it’s a turn on either, though).
He’s not going to baby you if you get hurt. However, when you just suddenly get nosebleeds, he gets really confused.
“The ****? Again?”
He thinks you should only bleed if someone or yourself hurts you, so he really doesn’t understand your frequent nosebleeds.
However, he’ll stay and makes sure you have tissues and whatever else you need. He’s not gonna dote on you, though.
If he accidentally gets some blood on his hand by helping you, he’ll look at it for a moment before wiping it off on his pants, because he’s an idiot.
“What? They’re red! It’ll blend right in!”
Maybe he’s not the best to ask for help in these kinds of situations.
Prophet
Maybe it's a sixth sense, but the dude somehow knows that he’ll need to keep some tissues on him when he spends time with you.
So, when you start bleeding, he hands you the tissues. “Here, sit down and lean forward. Don’t get blood on your shirt.”
He’ll do everything to take care of you. If there’s nowhere to sit, he’ll kneel down and let you sit on his knee.
You accidentally get some blood on him and apologize profusely, but he just shakes his head. He thinks it’s funny, how worried you are. “It’s fine, it’ll come out. Just wait for this to pass.”
Yes, he’ll let you sit on his knee for the full ~10 to 15 minutes if your nosebleed goes on for very long.
However, he might raise some concerns. He’ll ask if you need the hospital, but that’s not really important unless you start showing some other symptoms.
Prophet’s number one priority is to take care of you, and sometimes he can go overboard. Just remind him that the nosebleed will go away after some time, and that will prevent him from taking extreme measures.
He isn’t disgusted or uncomfortable because of your nosebleeds. The human body is confusing and weirdly fragile, so he knows that the nosebleeds just need to be taken care of.
Definitely a good guy to have on your side when your nose starts to bleed.
My requests are offically finally back open, just in time for my days off! I'll probably still go at them slower, just so I can remember to do others things I like to do.
I am VERY excited to be back to it and am not nervous at ALL (<- is nervous but very brave).
Can I request for platonic child reader with all the characters?
Reader is 12 and the illegitimate daughter of Charlie. He has her 2 years before his death with one of his flirts and never knew reader existed.
Reader comes to the Encore, to learn about her dad, only to find her father, alive, with all the members of his old band (the ones we have for now).
Charlie is taking a beat down by reader, who's super mad that he played dead to not be in her life. The other members explain what really happened and Charlie wonders if she's really his daughter.
For the members of the band, reader is definitely Charlie's daughter. Nearly same face, expressions, way of acting. If she's not a Disco, then Hemlock is clean.
Thanks
Charlie’s daughter visits the band
“Closing time, every new beginning comes from some other beginning's end” - Semisonic’s Closing Time
a/n: I experimented with the formatting on this one. Also, I haven’t been 12 in a long time, so sorry if I don’t know how a kid acts. I personally take offense when someone says I look like my dad, so hopefully that's not a problem here.
Your mom has always been cagey about your dad. She doesn't say much, but everything she says is good. If he's so good, why isn't he around? She always gets huffy with you when you bring that up. You get the feeling that she doesn't like you painting him in a bad light.
Once she deems you old enough, she tells you about your father: some guy named Charlie Disco. He was a drummer for a band called Dead As Disco, and little you thought it was weird that a guy would be named Disco, and that he would predict his own death with a name like that. The idea of the disco craze back in the 1970s and its subsequent downfall was beyond you. It was way before you or even your mother were born. All she can really tell you about the band itself is that she saw it at The Encore 12 years ago, where she met your father, and the two of them… liked each other very much.
But his band left on tour before she even realized she was pregnant. She never had the chance to tell him, and then news came out that Charlie died on tour, before he could ever learn about you.
It's difficult, even at your VERY mature age of 12 (seriously, you were almost a teen!), to process the idea that your dad, even if you never knew him, was dead. You stare at his picture, and it's really just him in the back of a group photo on some band merch. Your mom didn't think to get a proper photo of him at the time.
In an attempt to lighten the mood, you smile and tease her. “Mom and Dad weren't even married…? So scandalous!”
“How do you even know that word…?” But you did manage to get your mom to smile, and that was the goal. You could tell that Charlie meant a lot to her, and it hurt her a little to talk about it. You weren't sure why, though, since it sounds like they only knew each other for one night.
After you thank her for telling you about your dad, you go off to do some research. You're pretty sure that you remembered the name of the place she mentioned. You must have seen a sign or something. Maybe you shouldn't be looking into it, but your mom barely told you anything. All you really knew was that your dad was a drummer in a band, and he wore a gaudy, yellow jacket. You needed to find out more about him, and you weren't going to get it from your mother, so the next bet is to go to that place that they had performed in, The Encore. You definitely walked by the building it was located in without even realizing it. So strange…
You read reviews—mostly about nostalgia seeking people who were disappointed with the current state of the bar and the fact that it's barely open these days—and you decide to go over and check it out yourself. It can't be that bad, right? If it was quiet, then you were less likely to run into drunk people, which was good! You were still a little too young for that crowd, and you were fine with that.
Your mother leaves for a night shift at her job, and after she's gone, you sneak out. You had gotten directions when you were doing your research, so you were on your way to The Encore. The reviews mentioned that the bartender was the same as back in the day, so maybe he could tell you something about Charlie Disco and the band he played for.
You make it up to the floor that The Encore is on, and when you try the door, it's unlocked. Yeah, it’s technically working hours, isn't it? It sounds very quiet when you step in, and you glance around to spot absolutely no one, except for the man behind the bar.
“Excuse me?” You approach the bar, gripping the bartop and pulling yourself a little higher. “Are you the bartender?”
The man—clearly older, with a gray beard and dreads, hiding behind shades despite the dim lighting of the bar—chuckles as he looks at you. “What does a bartender look like to you?” Then, standing from his stool without any rush to him, he pockets the drumsticks he’d been beating at the air around him, shoving them into some pocket attached to his belt. “A little short to be in a bar, aren’t you?”
“I’m not here to drink, if that’s what you’re wondering.” You shift, sitting on one of the barstools. “I’m actually just looking for information about some guy named Charlie Disco.”
He tries to think about it. “Think a kid by that name is resting here. Yeah, he was part of that band. I hear they’re all getting together tonight.”
A kid? That didn’t sound good. You were looking for an adult. “He’s not older? Maybe like… thirty or something, by now?”
He just shakes his head. “Sweetie, when you’re as old as me, everyone is a kid. He’ll be by with another of his friends later tonight. Just sit and relax. I think I got a pop around here somewhere…”
He manages to find a warm soda that you don’t even like, and he grabs a glass before tossing the soda can around like a drink mixer. However, when he opens it, the soda sprays everywhere because it had been shaken up.
You watch him clean up, luckily unstained from the spray of sticky soda, and you finally ask him, “You really don’t remember him at all?”
“I’m a little old to be remembering anything,” he admits as he wipes down the counter. Remembering, he plucks the note that’s been tucked into the band of his hat. “I leave notes, but some things are just lost to me.” Then he puts the note back and shakes his head, going back to cleaning.
For the time being, you’re left to wait until this kid comes back. Did your dad have another kid with another mom? It stresses you out just to think about it.
However, the door suddenly opens to immediate and playful banter.
“I’m just saying! Next time, don’t throw cars at your best best friend!” That voice is excitable, friendly. That kind of voice belongs to someone who easily makes friends and steals hearts.
There’s another voice, one that chuckles. “You are not my best friend, dawg. Try again.” It’s a voice that’s smooth and warm, one that you could melt into.
You watch as two people step into The Encore. One of them is much taller, with a comfy looking coat on and spiky hair. The other, however, looks exactly like the man on the merch your mother showed you: swept-back hair, yellow jacket with one sleeve rolled up, and those glasses. Charlie Disco.
The noise brings out some people that had been hiding further in the bar, but your eyes are focused on the man himself.
Arora
Arora had been sitting in one of the side sections of The Encore, still calculating, running evidence (both hearsay and prima facie) alongside her own spotty memory of the band. It kept herself from even noticing that someone else had entered.
She knows that it's frowned upon, typically, to bring a kid to a bar, so she immediately scans your face to make sure you're not in some missing person database.
Because of this scan, she recognizes you immediately as related to Charlie.
You have the same face shape, same eyes.
When she sees the way you move, she recognizes that you carry the same flow that he does.
She purses her lips as she turns to look at Charlie. It's sort of like staring at a much younger reflection of himself.
“Charlie! You didn't tell me you had a beautiful daughter!”
Ignoring all the sputtering and yelling that he does at the sudden exclamation, she bends down a little and smiles at you. She's very sweet about it.
“Hello, little one! It must have been difficult without your father, these past ten years.” She stands up straight and asks, “Would you like an ice cream?”
You quickly tell her that you're twelve years old, and you're not going to be bribed to go away by ice cream. It makes her sigh. “Worth a shot, hm?”
Charlie Disco
Okay, even when he first saw you, he thought it was a little freaky that you looked just like him when he was a kid. For a second, he thought he might have been hallucinating. This entire night has been a mess of head injuries, so he wouldn't be surprised if he was hallucinating himself on that barstool.
But when Arora loudly announces you as his daughter, it becomes clear as day that you're real and related to him.
Which is impossible! He always practices safe sex. Well, he did, back when he was alive.
You're twelve years old, so that means it does fit into the time frame of him being alive.
Then a thought hits him and it makes him groan. “Oh ****. All the child support I missed.”
But he quickly shakes his head. “No, no, I was dead! It wasn't my fault!”
When Charlie looks at you again, he can see that look in your eye, and he knows immediately that he's in trouble. But for what?! It wasn't his fault that he died!
Deckard “Dex” Voltaire
Like he had been ever since Arora got to The Encore, Dex had been on the balcony, strumming mindlessly on his guitar. The thing was supposed to calm him down, but Dex was still feeling anxious about something he couldn't quite place.
When he heard yelling coming from inside, Dex managed to climb off the railing and drag his feet back inside.
He wasn't prepared to see Charlie getting yelled at by a kid. She was really tearing into him, and Dex could see just how much these words were affecting Charlie.
Good. That asshole deserved it.
He just crossed his arms and leaned against the wall, watching the whole thing go down.
He grew up with that annoying drummer, so he knows exactly what kind of person he was, and you act exactly like him. You look like him, too. He wonders briefly what woman was unlucky enough to get stuck with a mini Charlie.
Dex has to listen to Charlie explain rather timidly that he's been dead for ten years and didn't have the ability to reach out for a family reunion. He then listens to you tell him that people don't just die for ten years and then come back.
When it's obvious that nothing of significance is happening (other than Charlie getting destroyed by a twelve-year-old), Dex just shakes his head and returns to the balcony.
Hemlock
During all the arguing, a groan had been let out from some nearby booths, and the pile of coats and other abandoned clothes was thrown to the ground, revealing Hemlock. He had a bit too much to drink since coming here, and has been trying to nap it off.
All that yelling, however, woke him up. He stared at the commotion but couldn't quite make it out, his vision still bleary from being hungover and tired (somehow, just trust me).
“Oi! Tell tiny Charlie to stop yelling at big Charlie!” He throws an old, tattered scarf in your direction.
Hemlock sort of figures he's just seeing things, but Arora tells him that the tiny Charlie is actually his daughter, and that gets him sitting up in an instant.
“Oh! Did Disco get a little sloppy, then?” He's immediately laughing at the situation. “Can’t say I’m surprised! That guy loved to get his love wherever he could.”
Charlie brought a finger up to his lips. “Shut up, Hem! Can you not hold your tongue around a child?”
Hemlock only shakes his head. “You forget that she’s your child. I’m not worried about a few bad words.”
“She’s not mine,” Charlie suddenly insists, much to your own shock, as well as everyone else’s.
Hemlock, however, deadpans at that. “Mate, she has your face. Just own up to it.”
When Charlie just continues to deny the whole thing, Hemlock sighs and gets up from the booth, approaching as he digs in his jacket pocket. He then pulls out a wrapped lollipop and hands it to you. “Here, caramel apple. Stole it from your **** dad.”
You hesitate, but grab it anyway. “Only because I love caramel apple,” you tell him as you toss the wrapper.
Your answer is funny to Hemlock, who laughs. “Christ, she even has your weird taste, too!”
Charlie only glares. “Is that why they always disappeared, back when I was alive? You stole them?”
Prophet
Prophet has been watching all of this from the sidelines, finding amusement from Charlie’s freak out. However, he noticed the way you reacted when he loudly disowns you. You were pretending to not care, distracted with the sucker, but Prophet could tell you were feeling insecure.
So, he moves to sit on the stool beside you, resting an arm on the bartop to lean in closer while Charlie and Hemlock argue about stealing.
“Don’t take what he says too personally, kid. He’s just shocked.”
When you pout at him, Prophet feels his heart ache a little. You were just a kid wanting to connect with her dad. That isn’t a crime.
He turns to you and explains things as plainly as he can. You deserve the truth.
“I know it’s difficult to believe, but he really did die ten years ago. He’s been dead. I was there when it happened.” He can see that you don’t believe him, but what else can Prophet do? “I don’t know how exactly he came back from the dead, but I promise he didn’t ditch out on your life by choice.”
Your brow furrows as you look away, deep in thought. It’s a look he’s seen many times in the past on his drummer.
He nudges you, smiling once he gets your attention. “You have tonight, okay? Take the opportunity while it presents itself.” Prophet gestures over the Charlie, who only just now seems to realize that you’ve been speaking to someone else. “Before it’s too late.”
Aftermath
All of the arguing with the others is sort of the last thing that Charlie needs, and so he decides that he needs to get away from all of them and just talk to you one on one. He doesn’t need everyone telling him that you’re his daughter. He can see it himself. It’s just taking him some time to wrap his head around it.
“Alright, knock it off, leave her alone!” He waves Prophet away before picking you up and taking you away from the bar. You yell at him, but he just sits you at one of the booths further in and sits down across from you.
It takes him awhile to finally start a conversation with you. He looks pensive and uncertain. You’ve seen that look in the mirror before. “Okay, listen, I get it. You’re…” But he pauses. “Your mom says that I’m your dad.”
“Because you are,” you insist from around your sucker, frowning. “All she had was that t-shirt with the band on it. It’s the only picture she had of you.”
Charlie just wishes that he could remember which one he had slept with. He was always careful about it! Wouldn’t either of them notice that the condom broke?
Looking away and rubbing the back of his neck, he mutters, “Trust me, kid, I see the resemblance…” However, he’s at a loss about what to do about it. He only has one night. He doesn’t know what will become of him after tonight.
“I didn’t expect to see you at all,” you tell him, carefully setting your sucker down on its wrapper so it won’t touch the table. “I just wanted to learn more about you. Mom only knew you for a day, she told me. Doesn’t even have a proper picture.”
Charlie finally looks back at you with a frown. God, what is he doing? You’re a kid. He shouldn’t be treating you like this.
“It’s a picture you want?” When you look up at him, he’s smiling. “I won’t even charge you. Y’know, the band I was in was pretty **** popular, back in the day.” But then he flinches. “Shoot, sorry. I’ll watch my language.”
You just roll your eyes when he moves to your side of the booth. “Come on,” he calls back to the bar. “Someone get the camera! Kid wants a picture.”
Hemlock had grabbed it, but Arora quickly took it from his hands, moving over and snapping a picture of you and Charlie. “There you are!” The polaroid prints out at the bottom, and Charlie grabs it, waving the thing in the air.
Putting his focus on you even as he works with the polaroid, Charlie tells you, “Seriously, I’m sorry that I never knew about you. I had no idea.”
You just shake your head, crossing your arms as you look away. It’s still a little weird, seeing him sudden accepting you after he spent the first ten or fifteen minutes pretending it was impossible for the two of you to be related. “You didn’t know. You said so.”
Charlie puts an arm around you. “I can’t promise you a future. All I know for sure is that I have tonight. So, tonight, I’d like to get to know my daughter. Probably killing it at life, huh? Can't do any worse than me.”
He chuckles, and you don’t want him to see that you’ve smiled. “Something like that.”
So, you two talk about yourselves. Sometimes, the others tell you embarrassing things about Charlie that he wouldn’t have ever told you himself, and it makes you giggle every time.
He tells you that he has to go for awhile, to get another friend of his, but he does give you that polaroid, now that it’s showing the picture of you and him. He’s smiling more than you in the picture, but just looking at it, you feel your own soften in a weird mix of happiness and pain.
Grief is a difficult thing for a child to grapple with, after all.
Can I request how Dex, Prophet and Hemlock (separate) will be with a fem lover who is fed up with Harmony's bullshit and how their lover turned out ?
Like, instead of Charlie, it's reader who beats up the guys to bring them to reason.
Thanks
Knock The Sense Into Me
cw: FemPOV. Canon-typical violence. Angst. Relationship issues. Messy timeline in Hemlock's section. VERY long (i’m sorry).
a/n: An excuse to write a fight scene? Three of them?! My only regret is not being able to write four. I didn’t walk you beat by beat through the fights, but I do linger on them more than I should have (another reason this one took forever…). But I kept thinking, how do I end Prophet’s fight without dropping a mic on him??
Deckard “Dex” Voltaire
You really felt betrayed when you realized that Dex had sold out to Harmony.
One day he was with you, and the next day, you had a cold space where he used to be.
He didn't consult you, he didn't warn you. Dex just left you, and it caused a cold anger to wash over you.
It didn't take much for you to hear what they'd done to him, of course. Hell, Harmony promoted how they, as a music label company, managed to provide the city with clean energy with only the energy created from playing the guitar. Dex was on the cover of that.
At first, a terrible and bitter part of you thought that he deserved it. He finally got to be “perfect,” whatever that meant for him.
Your immediate thought caused you to feel guilty, and so you let him go to achieve his perfection. You never got to see him whenever you tried to physically go there, anyway.
However, the longer this goes on, the more you start to lose your friends. They all sell out one by one until you’re the only one who goes to The Encore anymore.
Eventually, the loneliness gets to you. You look out of one of The Encore’s windows and spot the Harmony building looming nearby.
They took everything they could get their hands on. You might as well take back what's yours.
By some miracle, you managed to reach him. You couldn't recall how many people you pushed and fought through to get here, but you finally stepped into the chamber with the city's generator.
The people who gawk and cheer to see a man forced to perform 24/7 notice you and the look in your eyes. It immediately causes them to step aside for you, creating a path straight to the barrier that separated you from Dex.
You hadn't seen him since he left, but you saw him on magazine covers. You saw all the wires and cords that connected into him. Seeing it in person, though…
Your approach and immediate vault of the barrier caused a hush to fall over the crowd near you, which spread with a sense of curiosity to those that couldn't see you until you stepped out into the clearing.
Dex heard the dimming of the noise, and when he lifted his head to see what caused it, his fingers slipped.
He didn't stop playing or anything. He's been at it for far too long to do that. But the next note or two to come from his guitar didn't quite fit into what he was playing prior.
“Dex,” you start, voice cold and firm like steel. He only stares at you. The fact that he keeps playing despite the confrontation irritates you even further. “You enjoying yourself up there? You like seeing them gawk at the freakshow?”
Dex flashed his teeth in a snarl, unhappy with your words. “I don't enjoy things, I get things done. It's the price of perfection.”
Words seem useless. It doesn't matter what you two say to each other, you won't meet eye to eye. Arguments like this weren't uncommon when you two were together, but it felt different, having him hoisted in the air with a hundred wires attached, watching him play even as he argued. It made you mad—yes, at Dex, but mostly at Harmony for turning him into this.
So, you don't argue. You don't throw in his face his old promise to never turn to body mods and never sell out. You don't remind him of the people he left behind.
Instead, you approach, and once he sees, he rears up his guitar. It acts as a signal, and suddenly you have guards and over-eager fans climbing past the barrier to get to you and stop you.
If he wanted to play this game, then you would too.
It was almost as if you entered a flow state when everyone started rushing you. You dodged and countered with ease. You punched, you kicked, you tossed people around with an ease that only came from spite and anger. A need to prove yourself.
For a moment, you feel your hair stand on end, but before you can do anything about it, the lightning strikes. The electricity courses through you, briefly knocking you off your feet. Your limbs tremble as you try to peel yourself off the ground.
Dex doesn’t want to admit that he got scared to see it happen. He wants to push you away, scare you off, but hurting you… It was an accident.
But Dex is an all-in person, so he doubles down. He casts the goons aside and metaphorically steps into the ring to fight you himself.
He swings, you dodge. He throws, you parry right back at him. It infuriates him!
So, in an attempt to end it, he brings his guitar up above his head and brings it down. And in usual you fashion, you dodge it, rolling onto the back of Ragnarock as soon as he tries to pull it up. You use this opportunity to grab onto the cords that connect him to the generator and to Harmony.
Your grab stops your momentum, and you're pulled back towards Dex. Your feet land on his back as you pull and pull and—
BZZT!
The wires are finally pulled out. Dex, used to the constant influx of energy, immediately falls to his knees. You act instantly, pulling out the wires attached to his legs, taking away the things that made him a machine.
He wants to yell at you, tell you to stop messing with things, but he can’t bring himself to do it. A quiet part of him is just happy to have your hands on him again.
You end up having to take him to The Encore yourself. He leans against you and curses at you quietly as you walk him back.
By the time you get him to The Encore, he feels a little more comfortable with holding his own weight, and you sit him down in a booth before sitting across from him.
Knowing that he won’t break the silence, you give him a look. “Talk?”
“About what? You won. Leave me alone.”
“This isn’t about winning, Dex! It’s not always a competition! I just want my boyfriend back.”
Dex looks away because he feels guilty and lost. He hates it.
After a very lengthy silence where he avoids your eye, he finally speaks, still keeping his eyes averted, his fingers moving along to the song playing faintly from the jukebox as if he knew the chords by heart. “I… want you back too. But I betrayed you and everyone else at the first opportunity I was given. I can’t just pretend that didn’t happen.”
“Would you do it again,” you ask him, head tilted curiously. When he confesses that, no, he wouldn’t, you tell him, “Then I’m not worried. We… We were all hurting then.”
It was, after all, shortly after Charlie’s death that Dex left you for idoldom with Harmony.
Dex snaps at you. He doesn’t want it to be that easy. “It’s not an excuse! No one else did it! No one else let their grief turn themselves into monsters!”
You move over to his side of the booth and you wrap your arm around his shoulder. He resists, refusing to lean against you. “Dex, no one else is here. They didn’t go immediately, but they all got worn down eventually. That doesn’t make them a monster. It makes them human, ironically. Just… doing what they have to, or what they think is right.”
You can see Dex’s lips purse into a thin line. You catch the look in his eyes. He’s trying not to cry. “I left you alone for ten years.” Unable to help himself, he leaned against you, finally giving in to your embrace. “You waited for ten years… Why? What made you think I was worth that?”
“I love you, Dex. And even if you’re different from the person you were all that time ago, you’re still human. I still love you.”
He made you promise not to tell anyone about how he cried after that. You didn’t have any intention of letting anyone else in on that vulnerable moment. You were just happy to have your boyfriend back.
Hemlock
It was always meant to be you and Hemlock versus the world. The others gave in, but you two stood your ground.
It never was easy to see Hemlock lose all his friends and bandmates to the enemy, but you always held him. You always gave him something to smash. Something to paint.
But one day, Benny suddenly pushes the two of you away. He’d never been the same since Charlie died, but he at least kept up with Hemlock. Those two had been friends since childhood.
So, when he was suddenly gone, Hemlock couldn’t take it anymore. He stomped and yelled and refused to listen to you. You couldn’t get a single word in, and when you kept trying, it only pissed him off more.
He yelled at you. It wasn’t his proudest moment, but the stress and the hurt was too much for him to realize that, in lashing out, he hurt you.
It’s not like he was ever that smart in the first place.
That night, Hemlock stormed off, and then he didn’t come back. You had, at the time, a clawing urge to chase after him and get him to talk it out, but you were hurting too, and so you didn’t.
For a while, you worried that he might have gotten in trouble or hurt.
But then you saw the magazine cover in a bodega you passed by: “Rocker Up” Hemlock exclusive: Toxicmaniac Apocalypse.
Without even thinking, you tore the cover from the magazine and ripped it to shreds. When the stand owner told you to pay for that, you just tossed the money in his direction before storming off.
Harmony! He fucked off to Harmony for fame just because you two had a fight! It infuriated you! It… It hurt you.
But you took a quiet moment to cry in private before storming off to where he usually spends his time—that damn subway.
Of course, anyone can take the subway: it's free. You can see it advertised as you walk down into the sublevel. It wasn't hard to find the platform he was on—you could hear the cheers all the way from the top of the stairs.
Showboating. You thought Aussies were supposed to be more down to earth than this.
You step inside, pushing your way through the crowd to get to the center. It seemed people were kind enough to leave it unoccupied for anyone waiting for the subway train. No one was actually here, but the thought counted, you supposed.
This hadn't been the first time he did this, actually. He would usually retreat into the subway and perform for his fans. Even before everyone all sold out, he would come down and rally people. Whether it was just for music or for some cause, people loved to band together for a shared cause.
And here he was, pretending that nothing changed, pretending that he hadn't given in to the man.
It pushed that anger back to the forefront of your mind.
Hemlock, atop the opposite set of stairs from you, saw you push through the crowd. You were familiar, but it was difficult for him to get a clear view through the crowd.
“Oi! Is that—”
Any kind of smartass remark dies in his throat when you finally manage to break free from the crowd. Of course he recognizes you. How could he forget you? You were the best thing that ever happened to him.
His girlfriend. Or, ex, now. He didn't know where he stood with you, and it tore him up inside.
But then he heard you speak.
“Do your fans know that you sold out to The Man?”
His fists clench tightly. “Say what you want! I've got real power now. I wouldn't call it selling out; it's more like… using my resources.”
“Is that what they call becoming Harmony’s musclehead?”
“That’s it! Everyone!” He points at you angrily. “This girlie’s banned from the subway! Get her out of here!”
Enemies swarm you. Not only fans, but even the riot cops that were meant to be watching Hemlock turn their gazes towards you.
Hemlock thought that would be that. He thought they’d give you a stern talking to, maybe toss you back above ground, but they start fighting you. Swinging, kicking. He wanted to yell at them to knock it off, but how would that look, going back on his word?
Tuning his bass was the only thing he could think to do to ignore you. He wanted to yell, maybe even talk, but he already laid down the law.
It was impressive, just how easily you weaved through the crowd, dodging punches and catching kicks before they could connect with your side.
But this couldn’t last forever. Hemlock never was one to stand back, away from the action. “That’s enough! It’s time for a proper reunion!” He tore through the crowd and leapt, swinging his bass, the blades spinning wildly as he slammed it into the ground where you were.
You dodged, of course. You didn’t miss, however, the way Buzzkill had landed a few inches from where you originally stood. Did he miss on purpose, or was he just rusty?
Hemlock comes at you in the only way he knows how to—with absolutely everything he’s got. He swings wide and you duck under him. He swings down and you slide beside him, giving him a harsh elbow to the side.
You’ve seen your boyfriend fight before, and this wasn’t quite it. Every move was predictable, he might as well be telling you everything he’s doing. You know he hits harder and faster. He fights nastier than this.
But if he’s hoping to drag this out, you aren’t having any of that. You rush him. When he swings, you fall to your knees, sliding under him and hitting the back of his knees, causing him to stumble down onto his knees.
You were up in an instant, bringing a leg up before swinging it down onto his chest, knocking the wind out of him as he fell onto his back.
The force of it caused him to lose his grip on Buzzkill, and you of course grabbed it, raising it over your head while turning towards Hemlock.
Your eyes locked moments before you swung down. Hemlock flinched, expecting a hit, and yet nothing happened. He could hear the blades of his bass still turning, and when he finally registered that his own weapon wasn’t imbedded in his chest, he looked up and saw you holding it mere inches from the flesh of his chest.
That could have been ugly.
But he wasn’t mad at having his own bass stolen from him. No, he couldn’t get over how hot you looked when you were angry.
After a beat, he feels the need to tell you: “You do know this is turning me on, right?”
His inability to take this seriously causes you to scoff as you toss his bass aside.
“Is this really what you want, Hemlock? To be at the beck and call of Harmony?” You bent over him, hands on your hips as you gave him a disappointed look.
“Obviously not! Of course not!” He sits up, his hand skating over the back of his dome. No cracks. That shit is durable. “But what the **** was I supposed to do? Honest change doesn’t happen anymore. You gotta get what you want, however you can.”
It shocked you to hear him say that. He was always so set in his ways. Rallies, petitions, protests, anything that would garner the change in the world he demanded, he took part in it. So what changed his mind now?
You're interrupted from your thoughts when you feel Hemlock take your hand and tug you close. You know that look. He wants you in his lap.
Here? Really? The subway was gone, and so were the people, but was this really the place for that?
You let out a sigh and let him pull you into his lap, straddling him as he held you close.
“I didn't mean to yell at ya,” he tells you as he presses his glass into the crook of your neck. No lips to kiss with, you were used to this. “I just… I got frustrated. Everyone left. What the hell was I gonna do by myself, huh? I look like a dumbass, nothin’ but my bass.”
“Not everyone left,” you tell him as you wrap your arms around him, holding him just as close. You missed him more than you would admit. “You had me. I would have stayed by your side until the world ended.”
His hands, which had been drifting lower and lower, stopped just before he could grab your ass. He sighed as he pulled back to look at you. Hemlock may just be a skull in a jar, but you could sense the regret seeping from him. “I didn't want you to see me like that. Just… givin’ up because life got hard.”
In response, you grab his jar, though his skull still floats freely inside. “You didn't give up. You used your resources, didn't you? That's what you told me.”
He lets out a small chuckle as his skull tilts to the side to avoid your stare. “Bah… you don't need t’spare my feelings. I learned my lesson: no more making you mad.”
That makes you laugh. “Let's go. The Encore is waiting.”
“Oh!” He holds you tightly as he stands up. He always acts like you weigh nothing to him. “The Encore?! I haven't been there in ages!” The man bends down to pick up his bass before he takes you back, refusing to let you go the entire walk back.
Prophet
Prophet actually tried to pretend he wasn't affected by Charlie's death. As he lost one person after another to Harmony, he just smiled and pretended that Dead As Disco wasn't falling apart.
But one day, Prophet comes to you with a deadly serious attitude. He sits you down and gives himself a beat before just asking you outright to join him when he leaves for Harmony.
Not if. When.
It shocks you entirely. You could tell that he wasn't joking. He was leaving, and he wanted to take you with him.
“Are… Are you serious?” It felt ridiculous to even consider it. How could Prophet choose Harmony over the others?
“I have to do this,” he tells you. “It's okay if you don't understand. But I don't want to lose you either.” Prophet takes your hands and looks into your eyes. “Please, baby. Come with me.”
It takes you a moment to wrap your head around it. How could he betray the band? They promised to never sell out. You pull your hands from his and tell him exactly that, and it seems to cause him to close himself off. He already treated that as a rejection.
He expected to be rejected, but a small part of him still hoped.
“I get that you don't want to go.” He didn't either, not really. “And I won't force you. But you're not stopping me, either.”
He gives you one more opportunity. “After today, I’m not coming back to The Encore, but I will miss you.”
“Are you serious?” You grab his hand when he tries to walk away. “You’re just selling out like that? What are you trying to get at?” What did he mean, you wouldn’t understand?
Prophet pulls his hand from yours before he can process that he’s done it. It hurts to push you away, but he does what he needs to do.
He leaves you there in The Encore. Part of you still thinks he'll turn back and say “sike” or something, but it never happens.
Prophet doesn't return the next day, or the day after that. You see him in interviews and magazines as the days pass. That shock freezes over into anger. Each time you catch sight of the eyesore of that Harmony building, your brow furrows harder and harder.
You walk with a quiet but intense purpose. People who see you on the street give you a wide berth just so they don't get shoulder checked by you.
You walked until you made your way to Dead End Drive. You weren't sure if Prophet would be here, but you could at least ask around. God knows you wouldn't get into that Harmony building.
You learn that Prophet runs with some group inside Harmony called Killa Boyz, and he spends most of his time as Harmony's talent agent. He was the gatekeeper on D.E.D. and he remains as such for Harmony as well.
You sit with the others and listen to them talk, not just about Prophet, but about D.E.D. as a whole. How could he abandon this? Even now, people look up to him. They don't see it as selling out, they see it as the next big step in his career. Hearing them talk almost quelled the anger in your heart.
A hush falls over part of the crowd. Spray cans fall silent, chatter is reduced to reverent whispers, and you turn just in time to hear the man speak.
“Look who it is! Miss me, baby?”
“Prophet,” you mutter as you get up, squaring off against him. There he goes, pretending nothing is different. “Playing at being part of the street even though you spend your nights in that cushy tower?”
Your words cause a murmur to spread through the crowd, but Prophet just chuckles, acting as though you told a joke. “Don't forget, this is my home. I grew up here. You saying I don't belong here anymore?”
Instead of answering, you just raise your hands in mock surrender. “Hey, you're the one who said it.”
Prophet's smile falls as he watches you. “You seem to be the only one who's mad. Maybe you're actually just jealous, hm?”
Why is this becoming a diss challenge? You don't want to argue, you just want your boyfriend back.
“Forget about the crowd for once, Prophet. I'm not gonna play these games. Let's go back to the Encore together.”
Now that made him laugh. “You think you can take me? You think it's that simple? It would be funny, if it wasn't so pathetic.”
How could he talk to you like this? It was like he was a totally different guy.
“I'm going to start swinging. And when I knock you on your ***, I'm taking you back to The Encore. No more Harmony, no more gatekeeping.”
His eyes narrow, all that friendly familiarity gone from him. “I’d like to see you try.”
The both of you break out into a fight. The people around you swarm the sides, all desperate to get a good look at the fight, and you can’t help but wish they’d all go away. Prophet is probably acting this way because of all these people.
He always loved to put on a good show.
And your fight ends up as quite the spectacle. Prophet spits words at you almost too quickly for you to keep up, but every time he throws a hit, you manage to parry and counter them all. You’re so locked in that you can feel how tense your muscles are.
One thing hasn’t changed: you’re incredibly nimble, especially compared to him. You slip past all of his attacks, you taunt him. You don’t know when, but the crowd fades away and leaves just you two to tango. When you tease him too much, he scoffs.
“Warm up’s over,” he tells you as he cracks his knuckles, but you’re not done with him.
He gets more aggressive. He’s not waiting for a perfect move anymore. More than anything, he wants to get you to back down, even if that means getting tougher with you.
And when the adrenaline starts pumping too hard, he makes a lunge for you. It’s a sloppy lunge, and you duck under, sticking your leg out and tripping him to the ground. You smile at him as he turns to sit, glaring at you.
Before he can get up, you point at him. “And there you are, on your ***. Guess that means I’m taking you back to The Encore.”
“It ain’t that simple. I’d like to come back with you, sweetie, but I got things to do. You wouldn’t understand.”
“There it is again,” you tell him, narrowing your eyes. "‘I wouldn’t understand.’ Probably because you never bother to tell me what’s going on in that head of yours!”
No, he didn’t. Prophet took on that burden by himself. He thought he could carry it without needing to worry you.
He sighs as he pulls himself up, shifting onto one knee. He gestures you closer, and you oblige, letting him take your hands in his.
“I wanted to keep you from worrying. It wasn’t right to keep you in the dark.” He looks down, his fingers tracing circles on the back of your hands. “I just…” Finally, he looks back up at you. “I wanted to protect everyone, you included. I thought, if I took Harmony’s deal, I’d be able to keep an eye on everyone. Keep the execs from comin’ down on them.”
He finally gets up to his feet, but not before pressing a kiss to your knuckles. “I’m sorry for walking away from you. I was doing what I thought was right.”
You purse your lips tight as you watch him unfold to his full height. “Just like you, always wanting to protect others. You’d sell your soul to keep your friends safe.”
“But I left you to do it. How can you forgive that?”
“Probably because I love you.” Plus, you understood what he was doing. Maybe there would be more talking involved at a later date, but for now, you were happy to have him back.
Your quick response gets a smile out of him, and he picks you up in a hug. “You are an angel, you know that? I’m never leaving you again.”
you have no idea how much i craved dead as disco x reader content. like legit searching non stop since the game entered EA. thank you for feeding us 😭😭😭😭😭😭
Oh, you're welcome! I'm writing the last request, and then I'll be available to take more requests! I'll probably still go at them a little slowly bc I need to set time aside for things that I like BESIDES writing. Drawing? Video games? Singing?
But as someone who basically exclusively reads x reader content, I think I understand how deep that craving went... it got to me so badly that I made this blog, despite being socially anxious.
I'm excited to see what other requests I get when I open them up!
(post made mostly to tell y'all I'm playing Kingdom Hearts: Birth By Sleep on Twitch if anyone's interested...)
My little blurb about Dex being a pillow prince by necessity got me thinking about everyone else's roles in bed so this one is for Arora, bc I have a very vivid image for her. (Also, yes, I'm almost done with the requests. inbox will be open soon!)
cw: sexual content. explicit mentions of reproductive organs(?).
(MDNI, this post is NSFW)
Arora
Stone top: A partner who likes to give but doesn't like/want to receive.
In my evil and fucked up mind, I don't think Arora has any sexual parts to be intimate with. After all, why would Harmony build her with a vagina or a penis? She's built like Barbie, so to say.
This little headcanon of mine is supplemented by the fact that all the other doll enemies we meet are built the same. But anyway.
So, I don't really think that touching her anywhere is going to get her excited. I genuinely believe that she can't get aroused via touch, but I might be going too far in one direction, on this one.
What gives her the most satisfaction is seeing you excited (or seeing you try to challenge her, as stated previously), so she will almost always dominate a sexual interaction. She loves to lay you down and give you crazy head. She knows exactly what to do with her hands to excite you. If you ask nicely, she'll even wear a strap for you.
She'll always have you on your back (or maybe in front of a mirror?) because her favorite thing is seeing your reactions. She loves to see you bite your lip and roll your eyes back because she knows that she's the one causing it. If you try to hide your face, she'll take your hands in hers and hold them while she makes you cum. And all the while, she smiles innocently, because that's just the kind of person she is.
(writing these blurbs makes me feel like some kind of gossip tabloid omg)
In the Dead as Disco AMA, the developers mention that Dex has another passion besides music which got me thinking what it could be considering the amount of time and effort he puts in being a perfect guitar player 🤔
Yes, I remember seeing this when I was reading the AMA! I had missed the event entirely, sadly, and even then, I don't have reddit, but it's fun to scour the thread after the fact, still!
For those of you who don't know, this is the question and response that gave this away:
Transcript:
500dogs: thank you so much for answering my previous question! since multiple questions are okay...would you mind giving me a fun fact about dex? he's my favorite :]
brainjar_rohan: A fun fact.... /thinking
Unconfirmed reports suggest that Dex has (had) another major passion aside from guitar - we understand he likes a particular type of dog breed and was once known to take part in dogs shows.
(end transcript)
DOGS SHOWS! Can you imagine that guy taking a little pupper to the dog show and getting his pooch graded? That's so cute.
They also confirmed that we'll get to know more about the released idols as they continue to add to the game. A relief! I'm so happy to hear that.
I got overexcited and sent a request when I shouldn't have whoops, you can just delete it. Specifically the one about nosebleeds. I'm sorry about that, you're very good at this and I should have slowed down and noticed that you weren't taking requests.
Thank you so much for owning up to it! It means a lot to see people respect the boundary I put down (I've followed x reader blogs whose followers did NOT respect the creator's boundaries before).
You are, of course, free to send it in again as soon as I open my requests! I didn't realize I would be leaving people waiting like this haha
As a reminder to anyone else, my inbox is closed for requests!!
You are free to chat in my inbox about fun facts or anything else! Or send me something to ramble about, I do love rambling. Thanks for the understanding!
This request might be a little dirty... But instead of making their loved ones excited, what do they do to make each member of the band excited?
How Reader gets members of Dead As Disco excited?
Now YOU get to get them turned on!
cw: very suggestive of course, AnyPOV
(MDNI, this post is NSFW)
a/n: I rub my evil hands together when I get to write NSFW. I actually worked this in backwards order: not because I immediately knew what to do with Prophet, but bc I needed to do the age old “just enter a flow state and see what you've written afterwards.” Enjoy!
Arora
As a “perfect” AI, Arora doesn’t really need to try for anything. She’s programmed with perfect dances. She’s programmed with perfect pitch. She’s programmed with perfect etiquette.
Not only that, but people are always trying to make sure she’s happy. Fans shower her in gifts, Harmony will give her any reasonable demand because they think she’ll go back to what she was meant to do: spying on the band for them.
Because of this, one might think that she likes to be given what she wants. Maybe she likes when you get on your knees and treat her as a goddess.
This is untrue, despite her divinity complex.
Arora hasn’t really ever been given a challenge, so she loves when you tell her “make me.” She loves having to put in the effort.
You intercept her hands, and her eyes narrow. You set the pace and rules, and she learns a workaround to get you going, but truth is, you already have her processors firing.
“Rori, what’s that sound?”
“My cooling fans. They usually only come on when I’m dancing.”
She feels no reason to lie about how much you affect her. She calls you naughty and makes promises along the lines of “when I get my hands on you” and all that.
The truth is, however, that she likes this game. She likes to see you hold out on her, and she likes trying to find a way past your defenses.
Charlie Disco
Charlie loves it when you whisper sweetly in his ear. You come up from behind and let your breath ghost his ear and he’s yours in an instant.
It’s almost silly, how easily this works with him. You once whispered the word “champagne” in his ear just to see if it would work, and it did. He shivered.
When you laughed, he pulled away and rubbed at his ear, getting embarrassed. “It’s a sexy word, okay?”
No sense in letting that go to waste, right?
So you like to whisper in his ear at inconvenient times. You're a menace during rehearsals, because you manage to sneak behind him, and the moment that he isn't playing, you whisper teasingly at him. If he’s chatting with friends, you’ll move beside him and disturb him.
It doesn't matter when you do it, though, he'll always smile. If you do it enough times, he’ll lock you in a hug and kiss you hard, even in front of the others.
This has disturbed practice once or twice, but he always promises that he’ll make you pay afterwards.
Deckard “Dex” Voltaire
Forgive me for thinking that the man who did nothing but play guitar for ten years is touch starved.
Seriously, the only time he ever was touched by someone else since taking Harmony’s contract was when people would install the body mods on him.
He also doesn’t like to beat around the bush. He doesn’t want you to act coy. If you want something from him, just be straightforward about it. There’s no patience for him to play around.
So you have to try a few things. It takes a bit to find something that really connects with Dex.
However, one day while he’s playing guitar, you sit behind him and let your fingers skim across his body. They trail up his arms, down his spine, around his waist and to his chest, where they linger.
However, he stops playing and tells you to knock it off.
“Do you hate it?”
“No.”
“???”
You realize he’s keeping his head turned from you. You catch the blush creeping up to his wear. Oh. Is he getting… excited? You rest your head on his shoulder blade and continue to let your fingers run along his skin. You feel him tremble for a moment.
If you’re doing this while he’s trying to practice (which is almost always), he’ll usually pretty suddenly pull away from you and get up.
You think you did something wrong, but he just sets Ragnarock in its holder before returning to sit beside you. Yes, he’s still blushing. It doesn’t stop him from telling you to do all that again.
You take your time touching him gently. You lay him down and watch him shudder underneath you. You watch his breathing get heavier as he gets antsier under you
This is probably the longest you’ll get him away from the guitar. It’s the only time he’ll stop and pull the music out of his head so he can focus on your touch.
Hemlock
“Oh no, I dropped something!”
You purposefully drop something in front of Hemlock. You bend down to pick it up, and you make sure he sees your ass.
He's behind you in an instant. If he pulls you back against him, you can feel him getting hard.
I think of Hemlock as a simpler man: it doesn't take much to get him going, but he immediately cranks it up to 11 the moment he sees your ass.
He stares, he slaps, he fondles.
Loves when you wear a skirt, either flowy or tight. It just means it’s easier to get to your ass.
If you're particularly short, he'll love that shit, because it means you have to bend over everything. The bartop, a top-loading washing machine, the desk he inconveniently moved beside the bookshelf you like to peruse.
Part of you wonders if he isn't filling his space with gigantic furniture just for that purpose. It's because he is.
He loves seeing you sit places you shouldn't be sitting, like countertops or tables. He'll pin you to them in an instant, if given the chance.
He doesn't care if your ass is firm or flabby, he's grabbing it.
Prophet
I feel as though this guy doesn't necessarily get horny a lot, but he has a pretty high libido, so he's always ready to go the moment you want to.
So, you struggle for awhile, figuring out how to get under this guy's skin. He's always so confident, so on top of things.
You even ask him outright how to get him horny, and it makes him laugh.
“You don't gotta try so hard, baby. I'm always ready for you.”
Does not help your case. Back to the drawing board.
You actually discover the answer by total accident. Prophet picks you up from whatever you're doing, asking if you want to spend the night at his place. He has the day off tomorrow and wants to spend it with you.
You tell him that you need to pack some things first, but he tells you it's unnecessary. “I have a spare toothbrush for you. You can borrow my clothes, if you want.”
It's not until after you two have eaten and are getting ready for bed that you notice a change in Prophet: he's staring, his eyes are dark, and that confident, friendly smirk isn't there anymore. It looks like he's trying really hard to remember something he forgot.
You manage to get him back to the present, and you ask him what's wrong.
He tells you it's nothing, but his eyes wander towards the window as he sits on his bed. Then he tells you that he never noticed how much bigger he was than you until you put on his clothes.
It turns out that he loves to be reminded how much bigger he is compared to you. I mean, Charlie is 6’2”, but next to Prophet, he looks like he's 4’. Dude is tall.
So he loves to see his clothes hang off of you. He loves to stand next to you and see you strain your next just to look up at him. He loves how easily he can wrap you up in his arms. He has you lay down, and he puts his hands on you, and it's almost funny how easily he holds you.
His favorite thing to do is play with the size dynamic. Prophet brings it up a lot.
“I need you to stay still for me, baby. I don't wanna break you.”
Apparently Ded Benedict (singer of holding out for a hero) IS Benny!!!
YES!!! Omg I don't remember where I heard it, but I remember finding that out and thinking "NO WAY!!"
It makes me wonder if that's the type of music that Benny must do? Partially a shame bc I feel that it hints at him being the next idol revealed and I was really hoping he'd be the last just for thematic sake.
But listen, I would NOT complain if they somehow got Ded Benedict (whoever voices him lol) to sing a cover of Seperate Ways by Journey... Definitely not for personal reasons. But if they did, well, there'd finally be competition against Dex's cover of Final Countdown.
hi!! i am very new to requesting stuff on blogs so apologies if i do it wrong 😭😭 but may i request something of the gang dealing with a beloved who is an artist? how they would act around them, or maybe support them when they get insecure/stuck in artblock? anypov please and thank you 😊🖤
Band x Artist!Reader
A creative significant other, and when they struggle with their art.
cw: AnyPOV. “Delete your art” is used. Also I have no idea how to do Hemlock’s accent (send help lol). Mentions of irregular eating habits in Prophet’s section
a/n: I had a lot of fun with this! And your request was perfect! I think Arora got the “went overboard” treatment this time
Arora
Arora is a deeply curious person, so when she sees you engaging in your art: pencil to paper, paint to canvas, aerosol to brick, or even just the sound of your humming a new tune, she's just as invested if not more so on where it leads.
“I can see the technique you're using is inefficient. Would you like me to show you the proper way to do that?”
You tell Arora that there isn't really a proper or improper way to engage in art. That answer gives her pause.
Her code is built on black and white coding. This is right, that is wrong. This is proper, that is improper. So to be told that neither way exists in art, she's confused.
She watches you so closely that she's practically at your back, staring over your shoulder at your current project. It's cute, so you only tell her to get off if you need to move.
There's something very intriguing and interesting to her in just watching you make art. She insists on watching you work, even if you're just doodling. I hope you don't have performance anxiety!
Arora clocks immediately when something is stopping you from making art. Maybe you didn't tell her about a session in awhile. Maybe you paused in the middle of a session. Either way, she notices that you aren't making art and she confronts you immediately with innocent curiosity.
You have to explain artblock to her: the inability to think of what to do next, the arduous task of continuing a project you're just not happy with, wanting to tear your hair out in frustration after staring at an unfinished or blank piece for hours on end.
Arora's head tilts as she processes your words, trying to figure out what to do with the frustrating information you've given her.
“Well… what do you do?”
“Wait for inspiration, usually.”
Waiting. Arora didn't want to do that.
“I will be your inspiration.” The decision is immediate. Why are you waiting for the problem to be solved?
If you need her to pose, she poses. If you need her to sing, she sings. If you need color advice, she gives it. A lot of times, however, she'll sit near you and shoot off rapid fire ideas for what to do with the project
Whether or not such an approach actually helps is up to you, though.
If all of her help is somehow still not enough, she'll give you a simple solution instead: get rid of it. Erase it. Delete it. Throw it away.
“If this isn't working, then clinging to it is only holding you back. Start from scratch and let new ideas come to you in the process.”
She'll be watching (and supporting) you the entire time.
Charlie Disco
Charlie will obviously be very impressed with whatever it is you have to do in regards to art. Drawing? Hell yeah. Painting? Hell yeah. Song or dance? Hell yeah.
He's a very supportive person, so he'll always have your back.
He likes to be in the same room while the two of you create. He'll be mumbling under his breath over a passage in a song while you're at your own desk doing your own thing.
If he annoys you, he'll leave, but he'll act hurt on his way out.
When you get too absorbed in this or that, Charlie makes sure to come by with snacks and water. You guys will laugh over the photos that he took of his bandmates, and if you feel inspiration strike, he'll let you doodle on the back of the photos.
Once you start struggling with a piece, Charlie starts to distract you. Clearing his head always helps him, so he tries that with you. He takes you with him for walks, for groceries, sometimes even to band rehearsals. A few hours away from your piece, so you can look at it from a different perspective.
If you're still struggling, he becomes a hype man. “You got this, babe! You only need one idea! Even if it's bad and you don't like it, at least you made something, right?”
He helps you through doodles. Sketches. Line-art. Choreography. He'll encourage you to try and follow a piece through till the end.
Deckard “Dex” Voltaire
Dex doesn't really… support people. But this is because he doesn't know how!
He's never sure what each person wants, and he doesn't want to waste his time on something that isn't even gonna help you.
However, he will compliment you. He can see when someone puts in the work, and you always do.
But he's gonna do something weak like telling you that “it's not terrible.”
Not exactly helpful.
Dex isn't very interested in watching your process. He has things that he'd like to be doing, and he doesn't really have the time to stop and stare. However, he will sit nearby and strum something softer on his guitar. I’m talking something along the lines of what Johnny Silverhand plays for the player in Cyberpunk 2077.
He exists near you, and to him, that’s enough. You don’t have to engage with him, and he doesn’t need to engage with you.
But sometimes, you need him. Like when you get artblock.
He understands that deeply. He struggles, writing his music. Nothing ever seems enough. Nothing ever seems perfect. It freezes him in place and it makes him want to tear his music sheet to bits.
He’s a bit of a hypocrite when he tells you to just take a break from it. “If you stare at it for hours, nothing is going to happen. Think about something else for a bit.”
He’ll gladly play for you while you rest nearby. He feels like he can’t do much for his significant other, but he can do that.
Things eventually die down, but he can see you’re still thinking about the project you can’t finish. It makes him sigh.
“I know I don’t say it well, but your art is good. It’s worth pursuing.” He goes back to plucking strings on his guitar just so he doesn’t have to look at you while he says the next part: “I admire the works you’ve shown me. I know you’ll manage to do well on this one too. Just give it time.”
Hemlock
He’s an artist too, y’know! He loves to spraypaint. He’s magical at it.
So he’ll know a bit of the struggles of an artist. The difference, however, is that he only does it once in a while, when he feels inspired or in need of an outlet. Things flow. He doesn’t really get stuck, since he doesn’t do it frequently enough.
Hemlock isn’t patient enough to sit and watch, but if you present him with a finished piece, he’s your number one hype man. If you give him the opportunity, he’ll show off your work to absolutely everyone and gloat about it.
The parts that you’re insecure about don’t matter. The parts that you thought could have been better don’t matter. He loves it because you made it.
Once you start getting frustrated with your work, Hemlock is a little confused. You have to explain artblock to him, but he interrupts you before you can even finish.
“Sounds like you’re spending way too much time on this crap!”
He picks you up and pulls you away from your project. It’s so easy for him to pick people up, he’s gonna abuse that whenever applicable.
His job, once you’re away from that work, is mostly to distract you. He doesn’t do anything special from his normal stuff, but now he includes you in it.
When you’re in this situation with him, his favorite thing to do is ramble. Apparently, he emotes pretty hard, and his actions make you laugh sometimes. His jokes tend to fall flat, so he relies on his own actions to make you smile.
If you’re still stuck after a day with him, he just waves it off. “Ya got waaay too much in that pretty head of yours. You’re overthinkin’ it!” He’ll tell you to spend time away from your piece and to not come back until you’ve got an idea for it.
Prophet
I picture him as a pretty busy guy, but he’ll always set time aside to see what you’ve been making. He loves it! He’ll only give criticism if you ask for it, but he much prefers to just compliment you. Judging art isn’t really what he’s into anyway.
Of course, Prophet will love any form of art you engage in, but he’ll always have a soft spot for tagging. It reminds him of Dead End Drive! The paint there is probably half an inch off the brick, just because of all the layers of tags covering each other.
But I digress.
He’ll stay with you during your creation process if you ask, but he’s usually got things to do. And it’s not like he can coach you through the process! You already know more than him in whatever pursuit you have.
If you start getting frustrated or insecure, he’ll notice almost immediately. He’s pretty keyed into your feelings, mostly because he wants to make sure you’re always as happy as he can make you.
So, if he sees that, he asks what’s wrong. You tell him that you’re uncertain or that you have artblock. He immediately tries to fix the issue.
He assures you that you have nothing to worry about in regards to your art. You’re so talented! Do you want him to find someone who can help you with it?
He has to be talked down from calling in some professional. He just wants to help!
When you tell him that it isn’t going to help, he instead takes you out for a drive around the city. No chauffeur or any other fancy stuff. Just him in the driver’s side and you in the passenger’s side.
Prophet invites you to talk about this or that. Anything bothering you, anything you just want to talk about. He listens. He doesn’t interrupt unless he thinks you’re prompting him to respond.
After some driving, you realize that he’s taking you somewhere to eat. Always somewhere that you like to eat.
He knows that you sometimes forget to eat regularly when you get immersed in a project, and he always feels better after getting a full tummy, so this is just sort of a way for him to indirectly fix the issue.
He always wants to take care of you.
After all of that, he’ll ask if you feel better. You might tell him that you’re still uncertain about where to take your work, and it makes him shake his head.
“Not that, baby. I hate seeing you tense. As long as you’re relaxed, that’s enough for me. The art will be there when you get back. There’s no race to finish.”
