bat opera

Klaine fic - “All the Beautiful Pieces” (Rated NC17)

Blaine Anderson is spending the summer after graduation flipping houses with his brother for Cooper’s total home renovation show. The show features the worst houses Cooper can buy, with Blaine playing the role of lackey so that Cooper can torture him in front of his viewers. The last house Blaine has to renovate is an original Victorian House in San Diego, CA, which is in terrible condition. But this house turns out to be more than just another job. It was once owned by a famous Vaudeville ventriloquist by the name of Andrew Smythe. It houses a very interesting collection of items - among them, two life-sized puppets. Blaine isn’t sure exactly why, but he’s drawn to them - especially to the one with the beautiful blue eyes. He convinces Cooper to give him the puppets, and Blaine starts to restore them. In the course of the restoration, Blaine finds out that neither puppet is simply a run-of-the-mill puppet, and Andrew Smythe was hiding a secret that will be the key to saving two lives.

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4

Chapter 5 (6811 words)

Blaine pulls up to the house at a quarter after ten. It looks exactly the way he left it, horrendous paintjob and all, but with the addition of a U-Haul truck parked by the curb, and a grown man wearing a navy blue polo and retro 1980s acid wash jeans staring in at the window with his hands pressed to the glass. From the back, he looks like an oversized Cabbage Patch kid, but in the reflection of the window, he more closely resembles a young Karl Marx with the iconic frizzy beard.

“Blaine,” the man plaintively moans. “Blaine, where are you? Open the door…”

Blaine shakes his head when he sees him, chuckling at his woeful wail. Blaine parks in front of the house, but the man doesn’t notice, focused as intently as he is on the living room full of toys, visible through the curtains that Blaine neglected to pull closed the night before.

“Gary!” Blaine calls out as he steps out of his minivan. “Have some self-respect, man.”

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Every musical has that song

that fucking song

WHERE EVERY GODDAMN CHARACTER IS SINGING AT ONCE

BUT A LOT OF THE TIME THEY’RE ALL SINGING SOMETHING DIFFERENT

AND I’M JUST KIND OF LEFT GOING “WHAT THE FUCK WAS GOING THROUGH THE COMPOSER’S HEAD WHEN THEY WROTE THIS???”

You know Id like ta be floss between ur teeth
Make ya ugly bleed

Pull down my skirt in long linebacker hallways
Births of pepto-pink fluid, soggy fat cells
Swirling, it’s oil you’re tasting, don’t you
Want me this way?

No–O,
I see

Wasn’t always bad dreams & heroin
Molly tease, men fingering,
I used to write about cocks so Id own them
I used to imagine myself in bed pulling back
the thin vanilla skin of my own uncircumcised penis
It makes a sound when it’s wet

Gotta play like the big boys, with bats
Slathered in blood & opera
Morphine is a bone slotted back into place
or a boy locks the door & says he’d like
to go all the way, & like some nightmare
I can’t answer :)

There is no other way to tell this story

His handsome sex
Chrome & cherry red
Miserable tip stuck like a
Strawberry in my fleshy cheek
The moon is a scab
crusted over my cunt
By the time he unbuckles
his big rape belt,
God has left the building
I piss myself & he only wants me more
The holiness of watersports, & crucifix
I loved a boy there who thought I was
ridiculous & a waste of pussy space
But when you fingered me
& I regretted all the drugs Id eaten
I imagined him knocking the door down
“Unhand her, villain!”
& so on, & so on

Baby,
he ruined me.

Girlhood massacre,
& I daydreamed for ninety-three days
of suicide.

You can tell it like:
licking kitty off fingertips, gnawing
sweet-tarts & soft God voice in her
head, “Come to bed with me.”
You can tell it like–
Blue lips & morgue bags,
“I never should have let you
go to New York City alone”
The boy on my bed
like he owned it, smirk & blood-eye,
“I’ve seen more people die than you,
Junky.” a pet name, a whim
A STARVED KITTEN BELLY SWOLLEN
WITH NEGLECT
A CHAIN, A WHIM

There is no other way to tell this story
Baby, I carry his child
inside me. & all the dope’s just medicine
For the gums when they bleed
& the roaches crawling up outta the sink
& the amphetamine glean to his eyes
Over me
God bless him for all he’s done to America
I mean God bless the USA,
the hospital that treated me & gave
a heart-shaped sucker,
as if I’d scanned my knee in the lot &
needed a pretty band-aid & a
father to take me home

You know
I’ve had enough of fathers
I want God on his knees
praying to Girl, holy
WE, MARTYRS HE SANCTIONED!
That night the creature He
made in His cock-obsessed image took
Everything from me!
Temper temper–too angry,
little girl. Too angry,
hot night, that night

THAT NIGHT–metal, ruin, antiseptic
THAT NIGHT–girl slur, apple pie
THAT NIGHT–girl, in love,
Goodbye