#(cue sitcom laugh track)

[ohwormwood]

in stars and time has literally rewired my brain I can’t stop laughing at my own eaRBUDS THIS IS AWFUL

[killerwithknife]

delusions of grandeur??? no I’m above all that bullshit

[chocohedgie]

“Uhh… meow?”

[purposechef]

laundry day

[tobiasdrake]

Been watching Kevin Can Fuck Himself on Netflix this week. It's a fascinating show, and easy to digest as background noise while working.

Kevin Can Fuck Himself is a serious drama sendup of the classic sitcom dynamic. It's two different shows mashed into one another.

The show's front is your typical Manchild Husband sitcom about a man named Kevin McRoberts. Every episode, he has a new wacky shenanigan to drag his wife and neighbors into, which usually blows up in his face spectacularly.

But Kevin is not the show's main character. Whenever he's onscreen, the show is lit and shot in sitcom fashion, with laugh track and applause and musical cues and all that jazz. The universe revolves around him and responds as sitcoms do to his every whim.

But this show is actually about his wife Allison. And whenever she's away from Kevin, the show changes genres to a serious drama piece. It's a show about the emotional and financial abuse of being tied down to the role of the Manchild Husband's "Nagging Wife", and more broadly the effects that his Comedic Sociopathy have on the put-upon supporting cast around him as well.

It's the story of a woman's quest to finally escape from the cage that her marriage to an impulsive, inconsiderate, and entirely self-centered piece of shit has trapped her in.

[domidextrus]

Jeez, period! Did you drop a goddamn nuke in my groin!? I know that we skipped a month, but FUUUUUUUCK!! I almost thought I was gonna die!

[bxtonpxss]

Running. Running. Running. Opacho dashed down the sidewalk, hurried footsteps echoing against the pavement, her tiny frame weaving between pedestrians. After a while, she finally slows, breath heaving as she ducks into a narrow alleyway. Pressing her back against the cool stone wall, she cautiously peeks out from behind the corner to scan for Nnoitra.

When the spindly man was nowhere to be seen, she sighs deeply and slides down to sit against the wall, tiny legs splayed out before her. She needed to catch her breath. Eventually time passes and Opacho puffs out her cheeks impatiently, her tummy was starting to rumble. “He take too long, and Opacho getting hungry…” she mutters to herself, unwrapping one of the onigiri to bite into it. She hums in delight at the flavor, it was spicy tuna mayo! It doesn't take long for her to polish it off, scarfing the treat down in several bites. A can of apple juice soon follows, the stolen meal did well to curb her growing hunger.

As she began to settle, its then she feels it.

A wave of raw anger surged toward her like a storm, crashing into her tiny frame and making her tremble. Opacho grits her teeth, steadying herself against the oppressive force of Nnoitra thoughts. His fury was loud, sharp, and biting. Rather than fear it, she finds herself growing rather annoyed by the emotions.

Opacho stands up, crossing her arms tightly over her chest, cheeks puffing out again as she huffs. Why he get mad at Opacho? He dummy who didn't run when he saw Opacho steal! Comes her own indignant thoughts. She decides to peek out from behind the alley again, feeling the weight of his rage grow stronger as he draws closer.

It doesn’t take long before she spots him storming down the sidewalk in her direction, his towering frame cutting an intimidating figure. She notes the wild look in his fiery gaze as his eyes dart around frantically. Searching.

Most likely for her.

As soon as he'd put down Opacho, his attention shifted from her to his current shopping task. She was going to steal some snacks for him, which was nice, but he still needed more stuff. Which he was going to buy. He continued to pick out a few items. A bag of chips, and then a toxic green looking soda. He was about to pick out some chewy candies too, when the sound of the alarm system startled him. He immediately understood that Opacho's attempt at stealing was getting fucked over.

Ain't my fuckin' problem.

That's right. Why he hell would it be his problem?

One of the store's employees were yelling at Opacho now. Nnoitra peeked around the isle to see what was going on. The kid was just standing there, blank stare in her eyes, while she clutched onto her stolen items. Then, Nnoitra blinked - and off she went. She practically bolted out the store. The doors teamed up with her, opening up so she could escape.

❝ Sir, you're going to have to pay for what your child took. ❞ said the store employee. He sounded strict. Fair enough, Nnoitra thought. Her parents should probably pay, but --- WAIT A FUCKING MINUTE!! The store clerk was looking at him.

❝ H a h ?? ❞ Nnoitra was almost stunned, and it showed. ❝ Ya better fuckin' not be talkin' 'ta me. ❞

❝ I saw you help her reach the top isle. You're telling me you're not her parent? ❞

This shit was wild. He had never been mistaken for someone's parent before. ❝ Or, are you her brother, perhaps? Either way, I assume you're responsible for her, and so you have to pay. ❞

This shit was SO not fucking happening to him right now.

Except that it was.

He argued with the clerk for several minutes. He got so annoyed that it became a yelling competition. Nnoitra threatened with violence, the employee threatened to call the police.

Eventually Nnoitra paid.

He was LIVID when he walked out of the store. Where the FUCK was that kid???? He was going to fucking strangle her!!

[maybe-boys-do-love]

Thai BL isn't lesser. It just has different aesthetic goals. It often prioritizes what some would call a theatrical style to filmmaking over a cinematic one.

Theatrical approaches, in the US at least, are currently associated with older films and television. They're also linked to contemporary shows in what are currently thought of as more conservative genres like youth-oriented cable programming (think Nickelodeon or the Disney Channel), soap operas, and sitcoms.

However, the theatrical style in the west has been at other times very much associated with cutting-edge subversion and queer camp. In the 80s and 90s, for example, counter-cultural cinema projects leaned heavily towards more theatrical approaches in the face of blockbuster corporate sheen. The films grouped into the Queer New Cinema loved to play with this. Consider the bold colors, static shots, and unsubtle dialogue in But I'm a Cheerleader.

In the 50s and 60s, the theatricality of sitcoms was a site of transgressive feminism and gender representations like in Bewitched (see more in The Queer Fantasies of the American Family Sitcom or Camp TV: Trans Gender Queer Sitcom History, among others).

Both those eras used theatricality for a number of reasons: budgetary necessity, subsequent technological limits, but also as a counter to the different kinds of elitism associated with the cinematic style in those periods (intellectual in the 50s and 60s and corporate in the 80s and 90s).

Cinematic style didn't begin to fully emerge anyway until the 1940s and 1950s with lenses and cameras that could depict greater depth and move through the spaces the characters were inhabiting. Before that, theatrical presentation was simply the only option. So Old Hollywood is rife with theatricality, and plenty of of those films still have the power to move audiences and feel surprisingly relevant with their visual and scripted commentary. Camille, with what some consider to be a nearly all-queer cast and main production crew and one of Greta Garbo's best performances, holds up incredibly if you're willing to accept its theatrical diva-licious approach.

But plenty of the Old Hollywood films are also duds along with the other eras mentioned. Theatricality, like cinematic approaches, is not inherently more queer or superior to other forms. They're just styles. As Zadie Smith wrote, "In Britain, we are always doing this: mistaking an aesthetic choice for an ethical one." I'm guessing that tendency is pretty universal, either mistaking aesthetic choices for ethics or, even more often, quality.

Appreciating theatricality will hopefully help you understand other choices in Thai BL with less judgment, though. The comic sound effects, jarring as they might be for western audiences who've had laugh tracks and sound effects sequestered away from much of their 'prestige' media, are an artistic choice in their own right that Thai BL has refined over the years to work as leitmotifs (small repeated sound sequences) in the series that reiterate the themes.

Two great examples of sound cues came out last year even as their cinematography leaned more towards a cinematic style. The Trainee, a GMMTV show about a film production company, used computer error sounds as a comedic beat when characters' fucked up, while Kidnap had a pathetic dog whimper, which created more sympathetic characters, like injured puppies who needed love and patience to recover from their injuries.

There's an art to using these theatrical tools in productions. I was rewatching an episode of Little Bear recently and Mother Bear blew out a candle, which was indicated not by a blowing sound effect but a clarinet trill. So much more tender! These sorts of sonic tricks were used beautifully throughout silent films, opera, and symphonies in the West for years. It merely fell out of fashion outside of cartoons and some comedies.

But just because certain tastes or practices were deserted or designated for "low-brow" entertainment in one culture, doesn't mean that other cultures are somehow 'behind' or 'lesser' for their use of it. Both cultures are equally contemporary to one another. One is not more advanced just because it has a stronger economy or easier access to certain goods and technologies. Nor does the designation of 'low-brow' to some art mean that the 'low-brow' entertainment is actually less skillful or impactful. The viewer just might lack an appropriate angle to appreciate it from or there might easily be cultural biases at play, not just across different cultures but regarding social status and rules within a single culture (and bother are something we ought to be very sensitive about when dealing with queer media).

I want to look at one of my favorite aspects that comes out of Thai BLs preference towards theatricality. The performances, and even certain production elements, often burst with spontaneity, clumsiness, exuberance. It can infect an audience with joy as the shows demonstrate what we often call (from lack of clearer aesthetic terminology) "heart." Dismissively, plenty of fans refer to the 'heart' of Thai series as if its unintentional and unrelated to the elements of the series they see as inferior. Its the sweet taste that got them addicted to a guilty pleasure! The 'heart,' though, comes from the Thai creators prioritizing a view of human messiness over the technical precision preferred by a cinematic aesthetic.

Thai BL often has a similarity to live theater in this manner, as well as improvisation-based media. Again, these are not lesser forms of art. I bring up improv specifically because it's easy to believe that the lack of pre-planning and compositional directive ought to diminish it in the made-up hierarchy people have going in their heads. Yet, we have Mike Leigh, a British director of dramedies, and Christopher Guest, an American comedy director, both famed and critically celebrated for their humanist works founded in improvisation.

You won't find me arguing that all Thai BLs are successful or that one country's BLs are somehow better than another's. I just do my best to understand, explain, and make meaningful comparisons to appreciate the aesthetic goals I see shows' evoking. It's also fun to look into influences beyond my own cultural scope and love (and repost) when others' share them. What are specific East and South Asian media reference points that influence the style of the shows (lakorn, literary BL media, Thai traditional theater)? I'd be remiss not to mention, for example, that the theatrical traditions for Thai shows derive mainly from Asian traditions in cinema and theater, despite all my comparisons to Western history!

Then there's the question of local political, economic, and cultural issues and limits that the creators live alongside and must create within and/or against to some extent. I'll never know all the answers, but exploring the questions is so much more fun than disparaging shows for what they aren't and what they can't or don't aim to be.

But look, I personally have a preference for the style a lot of Thai BLs go for. It reminds me of the cartoons, musicals, DCOMs, and vintage tv I've loved watching for most of my life. I like the variant gender and sexuality representations they offer. I like the intricate economic-political commentary I see the writers working into the subtext. It's not going to resonate for everyone, not everyone will see what I see, and all that's okay. I've personally never been happier with the amount of series' that match my tastes.

[wreckedandpolemic]

insatiable, is what she is - matty healy

prompt: love potion

(mdni) day 2 of the valentine75 prompts by the inimitable @abiiors <3 i hope i'm doing them justice

warnings: aphrodisiac use (lets pretend these are real its my mind palace ok), unprotected sex, mild breeding kink, oral (f receiving), degradation, dom/sub dynamic, choking, d word

You stare down at the chocolates sitting on the table, unassuming foil wrapped around an alluring promise. “You ready?” Matty asks, his tone chasing a shudder up your spine. You’d teased the idea of an aphrodisiac a little while ago, tempted by the idea of lust so uncontrollable it consumes you entirely. In his way, Matty had gone off and ordered it, and you’d both promptly forgotten until it was sitting innocently at your doorstep.

Smirking, you pick up a chocolate and tap it against his in a toast, twisting the wrapper off with your teeth and placing it on your tongue. The familiar tastes of chocolate and champagne fill your mouth as it melts, your tongue darting out to wet your lips.

You aren’t sure what to expect, studying Matty’s face carefully, searching for any sign that he’s affected. His eyes flicker over you and he laughs, giving a little, clueless shrug. “Waste of money, that, innit?”

“Give it some time,” you say, hand wandering to unbutton your blouse and grinning as Matty’s gaze drifts downward.

“That’s cheating,” he mutters, swallowing thickly. “You know your fucking tits drive me crazy.”

Raking your fingers through your hair, you lean and arch your back, pushing your chest out towards him. “Is it working yet?”

A smirk pulls at Matty’s lips and he shakes his head. “Nah. Just you, I think.”

You lean across the table with a pout. “Well, that just won’t do,” you say, spinning around in your chair and getting to your feet. “We’ve got to see if it works for real. Give it…” You examine the box. “Ten minutes, and we’ll see, hm? Good boy.” You pat his cheek patronisingly as he nods, swaying your hips purposefully as you stroll into the living room. A smile plays on your lips as Matty’s gaze burns brazenly into your ass, heat licking up your spine.

You kick back on the sofa, flipping through the channels and settling on some mindless sitcom, obnoxious laugh track blaring as you sift through your thoughts. It barely takes five minutes before heat is prickling under your skin and you’re sweating like you’ve just run a mile. Your hands act without your permission, stripping off your clothes and tossing them away, leaving you stretched out on the sofa in blush-pink lingerie. It barely works, the cool air brushing over you doing nothing to combat the fire roaring to life under your skin. You palm one of your tits and squeeze gently, that scant touch sending a bolt of desire through you.

Yeah, the chocolate definitely works.

Without you even noticing, arousal has started pooling in your underwear, damp as you dip a finger below your waistband. The pleasure is dramatically intense with the barest brush over your clit, shooting up your spine with a fierceness that sends you reeling. A moan slips from your lips, and, as if on cue, Matty cracks the living room door open. He looks as dishevelled as you feel, face flushed and sweating, damp curls sticking to his forehead, already stripped down to his boxers. You moan his name and his eyes blow impossibly wider as he crosses the room in two strides, collapsing on top of you and attacking your lips with fervour. Your legs tangle around his waist, grinding hard against his clothed cock, frenzied desire swallowing you whole.

“Need you,” you gasp out against his mouth, erratic bursts of pleasure snapping all over your body, the heat of him against you glorious and extreme all at once.

Matty moans into your mouth and you swallow the sounds greedily, your lips meeting in a slick, messy facsimile of a kiss. “Need you so fucking bad, fuck,” he hisses. “Couldn’t wait any longer, can’t keep my fucking hands off you.” He shoves his boxers down his legs and kicks them to the floor, his red, dripping cock thudding against his belly.

Your hips rock as you discard your panties, a whine falling from your lips when Matty’s rough fingers find your clit, rubbing over it for the briefest second and sending a pulse of white-hot euphoria shrieking through you. “Don’t tease,” you beg. “Need your fucking cock, Matty, please,” you whimper, savouring his low moan as you grasp his drooling cock and guide it to your greedy, dripping cunt.

“Fuck, princess.” Matty’s breathing is shaky as he pushes into you, filling you in one fluid stroke that knocks the breath from your lungs, your cunt clenching around his cock like a vice. “Love this cunt so much, yeah? Love your pretty hole taking my cock over and over and over.” He punctuates the words with deep, intense thrusts that have you unspooling faster and faster with every passing second, the pornographic sounds of your hips meeting driving you wild. Matty dips his head to bite savagely at your neck and chest, sucking stark, red bruises into your skin.

Thrashing under him, incoherent curses fall from your lips; you pant as your heartbeat races, hammering like a wounded animal. Heat pools in your core, your cunt wet and sticking your thighs, your head swimming in pleasure. Matty rubs tight, fast circles into your clit, fire catching under your skin and raging into a blaze that melts your flesh and chars your bones. “God, you feel so fucking good,” you whimper. “More, harder, please.” Your voice cracks on the last syllable, breaking into a drawn-out, desperate whine that has Matty groaning into your mouth.

His hips snap against yours with abandon, your eyes rolling back as you struggle to breathe through the sheer pleasure that crushes your lungs. “That’s it,” Matty murmurs, breaths coming hot and heavy against your lips. You swallow greedy lungfuls of him, intoxicated. “Good girl. My pretty little slut. Fucking drunk on my cock, hm?” A smirk stretches wide and filthy across his lips, bruised and spit-slick. “Gonna fill you up, yeah? Have you fuckin’ dripping for me,” he promises, his words sending steady drips of hot pleasure down your spine. Matty’s eyes go wide and he smirks down at you. “You like that? You like hearing how bad I wanna cum in this sweet cunt? Want me to stuff you full, put a fucking baby in you?”

Your mouth falls open in a silent gasp, filthy words washing over you like a prayer. One last harsh circle over your clit, and you scream, the taste of iron filling your mouth as you bite down hard on Matty’s lower lip. Euphoria spills over you in unending waves, your grip on your consciousness going slack as Matty fucks into you over and over. He spills inside you with a sound that starts as your name and crumbles into a long, low moan, murmuring how he adores your cunt and how pretty it looks pumped full of him. 

You’re dizzy, back arching and body sweat-soaked as you come down from your high, whining when Matty pulls out of you. It barely takes the edge off, your body still simmering and weak with desire. “Want more,” you beg, grabbing at him as he pouts down at you, the faint edge of humiliation coiling hot and heavy in your core.

“Sweet baby,” he croons. “Let me take you to bed, hm?” You crush your lips against his in lieu of an answer, your stomach swooping as he scoops you off the sofa and gets to his feet. Your legs stay twined around his waist, grinding your cunt against his stomach and moaning wantonly into his mouth.

You only make it a few feet before Matty is depositing you on the kitchen island, kissing over the bruises on your neck as he makes his way down your body. “Drive me fucking crazy, love. Need to eat you. Please?” he murmurs, kissing over your thighs as you giggle and squirm.

Carding a hand through Matty’s greying curls, you rest your legs over his shoulders. “So fucking pretty when you’re on your knees for me. Fucking cuntstruck, yeah?” Patting his cheek, you shift your hips, arching your back to press your cunt towards him.

His tongue darts out to brush over your clit and you gasp, a bright spark of pleasure buzzing intensely up your spine. Your hand fists in his hair and you drag his head so his mouth meets your skin. A silent gasp falls from your lips as Matty works his tongue over you in long, sloppy strokes, alternating between sucking your clit and lapping at your hole in a toe-curling rhythm. Unbidden, your hips grind against his face, ecstasy churning in your belly as your hands white-knuckle the edge of the counter.

Matty moans into your cunt, the sound rolling through you deliciously, white-hot pleasure flooding your vision as your eyes screw shut. “Taste so fucking good,” Matty murmurs reverently, palms gliding over your thighs and sending a shiver up your spine. “I can taste myself on you. So fucking hot,” he adds, burying his head back between your thighs and tongue-fucking you wildly.

Pulses of heat throb desperately in your cunt, a second heartbeat jackhammering against Matty’s mouth. His fingers come up to rub at your clit, calluses scraping at your tender nerves gloriously. Your thighs clench around his head, trapping him in place as he eats you like a man starved. Pleasure builds at the base of your spine, spreading through your limbs and setting your head spinning as you grind desperately against Matty’s mouth. The elastic band of tension in your belly pulls tighter and tighter until it rends in two, shockwaves coursing through you as you gasp and writhe. Your vision whites out, euphoria overtaking you, so hot it’s blinding.

Matty moans softly between your legs, murmuring encouragingly as your arousal drips down his chin, your cunt pulsing with the aftershocks. The storm of desire still rages under your skin, wanton and begging, thick and sticky in your lungs as you struggle for breath. He gets to his feet, leaning down to kiss you, and you lick the taste of you out of his mouth eagerly. On instinct, your legs lock around his waist, your wrecked, soaking cunt pressing against his cock. “Think you can take one more?” Matty asks, nails biting into your hips as he lifts you off the counter.

“If you don’t fucking split me open on your fucking cock in the next five fucking seconds—” Matty cuts you off with a searing kiss, your lips tender and swollen against his as he carries you into the bedroom.  You smile blissfully up at him as you fall against the sheets, his eyes blown wide and his jaw slack. “Come on, baby,” you moan, hand falling to toy with your clit. You’re greedy, soaked in a pleasure so all-consuming that you can’t think of anything but him. You want him more than you think you’ve ever wanted anything. “Can have me any way you want, just want your fucking cock.” Your words come out slurred, thick with desire.

Matty holds still, eyes roving over you. How he has so much control over himself still, you can’t begin to fathom. Then, a muscle jumps in his jaw, his fists clenching, and you realise how hard he’s fighting for it. You widen your legs and moan theatrically, showing off for him, and you watch the thread of his control snap. “Fucking slut,” he hisses as he collapses on top of you. “Greedy little whore. Fucking gagging for my dick, yeah?” he murmurs between kisses so hungry they border on violence. “So fucking wet and needy,” he adds, trailing teasingly across your cunt, sharp pleasure spiking when he meets your oversensitive nerves. “Just a pretty little hole for me, hm?”

“Yeah,” you moan out, whining needily. “‘M your whore, Matty, please—”

Your words break off with a gasp as Matty rests a hand around your throat; not yet choking you, just a warning, a promise that tingles deliciously up your spine. “Shh,” Matty murmurs, soothing tone at impossible odds with the pressure of his hand at your throat. “Be a good fucktoy for me, yeah? Nice and quiet?” You nod frantically, your grasp on language faltering, slipping from your mind to make room for the ever-growing pool of desire swelling there.

A dizzying burst of pleasure wracks you as Matty tightens his hand around your throat and fucks into you at the same moment. Your pulse hammers under his fingers, your heart racing so fast it’s deliriating, your limbs heavy with euphoria. A string of pathetic whines and moans fall from your lips as Matty — there’s no other word for it — pounds into you, the mattress squeaking rhythmically with every thrust. The stretch burns deliciously in your sore cunt, the angle mind-numbing as you wrap your legs around his waist.

“My pretty girl,” Matty murmurs reverently. “You love this, don’t you? Being a good little toy for Daddy?” Your mind goes blank, breath trapped in your lungs, your body suspended in endless pleasure. It’s constant, unyielding, stronger than you’ve ever felt, your cunt clenching around Matty’s cock, every thrust drawing you closer to rapture. Matty watches the change in your face with a smirk, gripping your throat harder as he speaks. “Daddy’s little slut, yeah? Just a pretty hole for me to fuck, hm? Get off on being used like this?”

You moan out something that sounds enough like yes to satisfy him, and he lifts his hand from your neck to grip your jaw, pulling your mouth open. Your tongue lolls out expectantly, and his spit lands in your eager mouth. Eyes fluttering closed, you swallow obediently, a shudder rolling over you when Matty returns his hand to your throat. “‘M so close, Daddy, please,” you whine, rocking your hips up to meet his as ecstasy wipes you clean.

“I don’t care,” he hisses, punctuating his words with another squeeze against your throat. “Shut up and fucking take it like a good girl, yeah?” His words wash over you, degradation striking you with all the tenderness of a caress. Slick, pornographic sounds ring out, your world going fuzzy at the edges as a yawning chasm of pure bliss opens under you. You balance precariously on the edge, your orgasm pulling you closer every time Matty’s hips meet yours. “You feel so fucking good around my cock, princess. Such a good little cumdump for Daddy. My pretty toy.”

His words tip you over the edge, praise sliding sweetly against the burn of humiliation. Your world shatters into sparks that burn behind your eyes as you come harder than you think you ever have. A scream you’re only vaguely aware is yours rings out, arousal gushing out of you and soaking Matty, puddling on the sheets under you. Chest heaving, you gasp for breath, clutched in euphoria so dramatically intense you aren’t fully sure you haven’t died.

Your body shudders, wracking with aftershocks and finally sated as Matty fucks you through, making good on his promise to use you like a toy. He offers you the small mercy of lifting his hand from your throat, eyes glazed as he gazes down at you. “Fucking hell, angel. Such a good girl, squirting on my dick. ‘M so fucking close, fuck.” Matty drops his head to kiss you, muffling his whines against your mouth as he comes, cock twitching and pulsing, pumping you full and painting your insides.

You pout at the loss when he pulls out, and he chuckles fondly, thumbing over your bruised lips. “Such a good girl,” Matty says. “Did so well, princess.”

Still cradled in bliss, you smile beatifically up at him. “‘M your good girl,” you murmur happily, eyes slipping closed.

“Yeah, you are,” he whispers, rolling off you and pulling you close, gathering you into the safety of his arms. “That was fucking amazing, darling. Can’t believe I made you fucking squirt,” he adds, awed, and you can hear in his voice that he’s going to make a mission out of recreating it.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” you tease, finally coming back to yourself. “Never been that horny in my life. Fucking chocolate.”

You giggle when Matty pinches your hip in response. “Oi. Thought I fucked all the brat out of you already.” He brushes a loose strand of hair behind your ear, adoration plain on his face as he watches you smile and blink sleepily.

“You’d try,” you scoff, whining and cuddling closer when he tries to move.

“Baby, we really need to get cleaned up,” Matty says with a quiet laugh, extricating himself from your arms and padding into the bathroom.

Matty runs you a bath, acting a complete gentleman the whole time, cleaning you diligently and crooning apologies at all the right moments. The steady thump of his heartbeat lulls you, your body bone-deep exhausted against him. Somehow, in that time you lost to your hazy, satisfied mind, he’s changed your sheets. He pulls one of his shirts over your head and lays you down gently, letting you relax against the crisp smoothness of the fresh sheets. Limpet-like, you cling to Matty as he falls next to you, tucking your head into the crook of his neck; the warm, familiar scent of him envelops you as your eyes finally flutter closed.

[scottishaccentsareawesome]

Now that Buck's canonically bi and dating men I want "911' to be like a sitcom...

(Bobby is sitting in the living room, with his reading glasses on, reading the newspaper in his recliner, and the doorbell rings, Bobby goes to answer it)

Random Guy at the Door: Hey, is Buck here?

Bobby:... Oh, I don't think so. [immediately shuts the door] [cue laugh track]

(Bobby goes back to his chair, but the doorbell rings again, so he sighs [cue laugh track] and goes back to answer it)

Random Guy at the Door #2: Hey, is Buck here?

Bobby: Nope. [shuts the door] [cue laugh track]

Buck(from upstairs): ...Dad, is my date here yet?!

Bobby: Haven't seen him! [cue laugh track]

(Bobby starts to head back to his chair, but the doorbell rings again, and Bobby lets out a long-suffering groan [cue laugh track] then goes to answer the door again)

Eddie: Hi, Mr. Nash! Sorry for looking a little dirty. I just noticed earlier today that the oil in your car was looking a little low, so I just changed it for you. Then I noticed there was a broken part in your front fence, so I fixed that for you too, hope that's OK. Oh, and don't worry, I have to get up for church tomorrow, so I'll have Buck home well before curfew.

Bobby:....Yeah, you'll do. BUCK, YOUR DATE'S HERE! [cue laugh track]

[legendary-69420]

Chapter 4: The PR Game

(Racing Hearts : VOLUME 2)

It was only a few weeks since the announcement of Mark joining Red Bull, and already the buzz around him and Max as a team was louder than anyone expected. With Mark and Charles’ on-track rivalry now intensifying, the fans were eating it up, especially online.

The first PR stunt was a friendly interview together, one that the team had set up. The two sat side by side, both in their Red Bull and Ferrari gear, laughing for the cameras and feeding the media with sound bites.

“I’m just warning you,” Mark grinned at Charles, “I’ve got a lot more jokes lined up for this season. It’s gonna be unbearable.”

Charles rolled his eyes, but there was a smirk tugging at his lips. “Oh, I’ve been preparing. Mentally and emotionally. Don’t worry.”

The interviewer chuckled, glancing at the fan-submitted questions on their cue cards. “The fans are really excited to see the two of you on the grid together again. They’ve been… very active online.”

Mark glanced at Charles, and they both knew what “active” meant — the ship comments, the fan theories, and the endless jokes flooding social media.

“Oh, yeah?” Mark leaned in, flashing a smirk at the camera. “Anything juicy?”

The interviewer laughed, flipping through the cards. “Well, one fan wrote, ‘Charles and Mark, who’s better at handling the media attention?’”

“I think it’s obvious,” Mark started, but Charles cut in smoothly.

“Definitely me,” Charles teased, his grin widening. “Mark’s terrible at it.”

“Hey!” Mark feigned offense, poking Charles’ arm. “I’m great with the media! I give the people what they want.”

Charles raised an eyebrow. “By singing Material Girl in a club?”

The whole crew burst into laughter, and the comments on social media were already going viral.

Instagram Live Comments:

@speedy_girl1987: “CHARLES CALLING OUT MARK LIKE THAT, I'M DYING”

@MarkSpencerFans: “OMG THEY’RE LIKE AN OLD MARRIED COUPLE ALREADY!!”

@Charles_Leclercx_Fan: “Mark, we all LOVED the Material Girl performance, ignore him 😂 #BestNightEver”

@queenf1_fan: “PR stunt? More like PR flirting. You two better KISS on camera, I’m begging.”

@F1Rumor_HQ: “Everyone in the room seeing that sexual tension is palpable 👀👀”

The interview moved on to the next fan question.

“Alright, next one: ‘If you had to pick one teammate to be stuck on a deserted island with, who would you choose?’”

Charles laughed, already shaking his head. “Don’t make me choose.”

Mark shot a look at him, mockingly clutching his chest. “Wow, I’m right here.”

“No, I mean—” Charles backtracked, clearly trying to navigate the question. “Well, Mark would be good at keeping things entertaining, but Max… Max might actually help me survive.”

“Okay, I see how it is,” Mark said, rolling his eyes dramatically. “Charles doesn’t appreciate my survival skills. Noted.”

Twitter Fan Reactions:

@RedBull_Racing_Fan: “Mark really out here acting like a drama queen and Charles is just DONE with him. They’re comedy gold, I swear.”

@ferrari_forever: “CHARLES SAYING MAX WOULD HELP HIM SURVIVE. MARK I’M SORRY, BUT YOU’RE JUST HERE FOR VIBES 😂”

@Fan_fiction_HQ: “Get them on a deserted island ASAP and let’s see how long before they really appreciate each other…”

@Formula_1_Memes: “This interview is like a sitcom with the way Mark and Charles banter back and forth.”

After the interview, they moved on to the photoshoot part of the PR day. The team had organized some promotional shots, but the candid moments between Charles and Mark were the ones that stole the show. They’d laugh between takes, Mark trying to make Charles break his serious face while posing.

During one moment, the photographer caught Mark casually slinging an arm around Charles’ shoulder, pulling him close in a friendly hug.

“Oh, we’ll break the internet with this one,” Mark said, grinning at the camera.

Charles, smiling faintly, shook his head. “You’re going to be insufferable this season, aren’t you?”

“You love it.”

Behind-the-scenes footage later posted on Instagram:

Mark messing with Charles’ hair during the shoot.

Charles trying to stay composed while Mark makes funny faces behind him.

Mark pretending to "model" in exaggerated poses until Charles pushes him off-screen, both of them laughing.

Instagram Comments:

@MarkSpencerFans: “Okay but the way they’re so comfortable with each other now??? This is what we LIVE FOR”

@F1_PR_teams: “These two make the best PR team ever! The energy is unreal.”

@Ferrari_Nation: “I think Charles was actually smiling the whole time for once! WHAT IS THIS SORCERY, MARK?!”

@ThirstyF1Fans: “Mark. Stop. Touching. Charles. I can’t HANDLE THIS.” ---

By the end of the day, Mark and Charles had wrapped up their PR obligations, but their chemistry and ease with each other were undeniable. The internet buzz was louder than ever, their interactions fueling both shippers and die-hard fans alike.

As they walked off set, Charles nudged Mark. “You’re really enjoying this, huh?”

Mark laughed. “Can’t help it. You’re just so much fun to mess with.”

Charles shook his head, but he couldn’t hide the smirk on his face. “You better bring this energy to the track, Spencer.”

“Trust me,” Mark replied with a wink, “I’ve got plenty more where that came from.”

---

[birdie-yaps-alot]

For some reason I want to see Mallory’s backstory play out like an American comedy sitcom.

like I need canned laughter playing as she’s about to be sacrificed and the sounds of a live audience clapping as she’s going through the worst moment of her life. Why? I have no idea.

OH MY GOD THATS TERRIBLE I LOVE IT! /pos

No that’s great!

Mallory on her knees, sobbing up at The Eyes in what she thinks will be her final moments. Cue the laugh-track as she wails, drowned out by the soulless laughter.

[imnotokayhru]

I need a sitcom style TV show about the Slay the Princess voices

Seeing Cold and Smitten be the ones to argue 24/7, while the others just watch, and then the Contrarian buts in with smth funny like, “Do you think they ever kiss?”

*Cue the laugh track.*

[can-of-w0rmz]

We need an adaptation of Frankenstein from Elizabeth’s perspective, but it’s a laugh track sitcom where Victor is obsessively trying to do his shenanigans to hide the Creature and Elizabeth is just convinced he’s gay

*Establishing shot of the place they’re staying on their wedding night, cut to Victor pacing*

Elizabeth: “What is it that agitates you, my dear Victor? What is it you fear?”

Victor: “Oh! Peace, peace, my love, this night, and all will be safe; but this night is dreadful, very dreadful.”

*pans to Elizabeth’s deadpan face, zoom in, cue laugh track*

[skaruresonic]

1.) bro this shit was not proofread and it shows. Did Silver's flower, singular, die, or was it multiple flowers, as stated on the previous page?

2.) I got a little confused at "I thought it might be infected," as I assumed Silver was referring to the metal virus. But then the story goes on to specify that no, Silver assumed his flower contracted some infectious plant disease, and I was once again reminded that IDW does not have continuity. My bad.

3.) I actually have a funny story about when my dad and his friend were kids and they had to raise rabbits for a 4H competition. Fifteen minutes before the competition, my dad's rabbit died; but because his rabbit and his friend's looked the same, he switched the two. Cue his distraught friend breaking out in tears.

The worst part is my dad won first prize and used the money to buy his crying friend an ice cream. xP

Now that shit is hilarious (never fails to make me crack up each time I tell it); the type of comedy this story is going for but utterly fails at because the humor does not organically spring - pun not intended - from any of the characters.

You could swap Silver, Espio, etc. for anyone else and the story would play out the same way. Their quirks don't inform the comedy; they might as well be plunked down in a generic sitcom with a laugh track for all that it matters.

[pannman]

CIRCUS FAMILY CHAPTER 1

Sitcom AU

Circus Family is filmed in front of a live studio audience

“Welcome one and all to the house of the Circus Family!” A Strange creature with teeth and eyes for face and human body wearing a ringleader outfit flies into the air. A wire holding him up is clearly visible. “My name is Caine! I’M THE RINGLEADER AND THE HEAD OF THE FAMILY HERE AT THIS AMAZING HOUSE OF WONDERS! And here is my sidekick Bubble!” He pulls off his hat and out of it pops a round inflatable puppet. “Oh, I can’t wait to see the fam and what crazy shenanigans they are up to.” Bubble says with excitement. “Well let’s not wait any longer” Caine replies “Theme song time!”

Music cues in

Flashes of characters being goofy and laughing together begin

“I’ll be there for youuuuuu-”

“-WAIT! That’s not the right. Whoopsie! Wrong show…” Caine exclaims in embarrassment scratching his head/gums. A laugh Track plays at the goofy mishap

New music cues in with a 90s sitcom rock theme

Gangle and Zooble and Kinger too

Ragatha, Jax and there's Kaufmo, woo-hoo

Day after, day after

Day after, day after day we fly

Past the moon and the sun and we don't know why

Suddenly as they are introducing an assortment of wacky characters a young jester looking girl timidly opens the door, seemingly lost and confused. She bumps into a tall purple rabbit that looks like a guy in a mask and stilts in some sort of costume. He falls over landing on all the others causing a bunch of crash sound effects and roar of laughter from the invisible audience.

The Rabbit looks annoyed “Caine! Is this a new main character?” Caine lights up with excitement. “My my a new member of the family. Looks like today's episode is going to be called…”

A title appears out of nowhere

“Fuller house…”

The rabbit interjects “that’s taken”

“um… I mean… er… Jester Round The Family Tree!”

“Cliché” the rabbit remarks with a snicker

“Okay, Jax! Why don’t you come up with a better name on the spot next time? I’m sure you’ll be much better at it than me!” He sounds cheerful but his words indicate sarcasm, though it’s kinda hard to tell. “Huh. Maybe I will smart guy.” Jax responds. Loud laughter coming from seemingly everywhere yet nowhere shakes the building. “that wasn’t even that funny” Jax says calling out the too easily amused audience.

The newcomer was becoming frightened and confused by her new surroundings. “what’s… going on? I turned on some old TV and fell asleep and I woke up in front of this house. How did I get here? Who are you people?” A girl in a yarn wig and a long dress with fake stitches seemingly holding her together attempted to comfort her. “It’s gonna be okay. Just relax” The new girl simply screamed profanity but to her surprise it was dubbed to a different word “ WHAT THE YUCK IS GOING ON!?!” Her face froze in shock and then gave look of confusion. “Now. Now. We don’t use that foul language in my house! This is family friendly show after all” the audience laughs again.

The fearful jester spins in all directions. “Where’s that coming from?!? who’s doing that?!!?” Without anyone answering the questions she tries to get her head straight and calm down a bit. “So… how do I go home?”

Everyone becomes uncomfortable and silent until Jax speaks up. “There is no way home. You’re stuck inside a TV show” he says with very little sympathy. “What?” She responds. And that’s when a strange marionette of parts and shapes, attached to strings hanging in the air suddenly speaks. “Come on Jax. Don’t be mean.” they move up and down by the strings as they speak, parts jiggling a bit. “But he’s right. This is your new home now.”

The jester is very afraid and uncomfortable. “I know what will make you feel better… a tour of the house!” Caine decides. He lowers down on the wire as a cranking sound is heard and grabs the newcomer by the hand to drag her around just above the ground. “Here we have the kitchen! This is where you may create delicious foods as well as delicious memories.” He moves to the backyard. “here’s the yard! There’s an outdoor pool, it’s always sunny, and if you want to engage in a hobby there’s even a garden.” He drags her back through the kitchen to the living room where she first entered and up the stairs. They were now in a long hallway with lots of doors.

“this is the hallway and these are your rooms.” She notices he seems to not be continuing. “Is that it?” she asks nervously. “Well it’s not exactly a mansion but there is an attic…. We don’t go in the attic…” he got very serious for second and a bit ominous. “But, I’m sure you won’t have any reason to go up there anyway!” He beams back into his cheerful charismatic tone. He brings her back down to the living room where no one has moved. A tiny woman with a red dress and red ribbon and white costume makeup on her face resembling an opera mask cries staring down at her broken glasses on the floor. “they broke my glasses again!”. She stands next to a man in a king outfit with a fake mustache playing chess by himself on the couch. He's wrapped up in a blanket partially over his head. He moves a chess piece before abruptly swiping everything off the board. “ugh! I lost again” The laugh Track went off.

“Now to other business, like your name” Caine said pointing to the newbie. “Ughhhhh…. Wait a minute I can’t remember my name!” The audience the gasps. It was the first time they’d done something other than laugh. “No one can remember their names when they come here but we can come up with a new one for you!” suddenly the jester notices she is behind a podium seemingly on a game show. Caine is in a fancy new getup. “Alright everyone it’s time to play…” the audience finishes the sentence “WHATS MY NAME!” the title appears in bright lights. The audience applauds and cheers. “Alright contestant! Spin the wheel!” A colorful wheel with question marks on each piece stands before her. Cautiously she gives it a spin. It spins around and around until… it lands on a blue piece. That’s when the question marks turns into letters formulating the name Pomni.

“What do you think of the name Pomni?” Pomni scratches her head. ”I guess…” she replies unsure. “Great! You know what? I think now's a good time for a life lesson!” Caine announces. Pomni suddenly realizes she’s back in the living room with everyone. “Today’s life lesson will be learned… as the new kids in school! Today you will all be going to school and learning first hand what’s like to be the newbie like Pomni and Pomni will learn that she’s not alone like she thinks” Caine winks. “Wait what?” Pomni questions after that remark. “Caine now get your bags and your notebooks and your number 2 pencils cause class is in session!” the walls around them fall like cardboard and new walls rise with new furniture growing out of the ground to create a classroom. “Have a wonderful experience!” He shouts with pride before being lifted by the wire with the cranking sound going off. Slowly he rises but disappears out of sight.

Pomni’s eye twitches as she tries to process what just happened. “What was all that?” She asks. “Oh just one of Caine’s life lessons. There just something to give us a taste of real life to keep us from…. Ugh… going insane.” The woman dressed like a doll explains. “I’m Ragatha by the way. I guess we need to go experience the first day school?” the strange Marionette scoffs. “Ugh… why school? This is yucking stupid. I’m outta here” but before they could leave a large beefy child comes over with a trash can and shoves them in, carrying them away. “Ha ha!” He laughs as he runs away. “Oh no! Zooble got bullied on their first day” Ragatha gasps with concern. “Oh too bad so sad” Jax yawns not surprised when the audience found that particularly hilarious. “sheep” he coughs under his breath earning another roar of giggles and laughter.

“I just realized Kaufmo hasn’t met Pomni yet. He wasn’t here today… that’s strange. We better go check up on him. Hey Kinger! You wanna visit Kaufmo!” Kinger is no longer on a couch but in a dunce box cowering in the corner. “Not particularly. Last time I saw kaufmo he looked kind of off. He talked about going into the attic.” Pomni had wondered about the attic. “But wait! Maybe that means the attic has some way out” Pomni argues. Pomni didn’t like the way everyone stared at her like she was crazy. “Or maybe you’re as crazy as he is!” suddenly a little boy appears with a basketball and bounces it on Jax’s head. “Ha ha!” he points before running away. “alright I’d had enough of these little brats! Let’s send Gangle and Kinger to go play hero and rescue Zooble while you, me, and Pomni go check on Kaufmo” So the team was now split. Pomni was coping the best she could while wondering about the attic. Kinger and Gangle, an interesting duo, were off to stand up to some bullies, and the rest of them were navigating the halls of lockers trying to find their way back to the rooms.

“Oh my! Questions need to be answered. Will they be able to find Kaufmo? Will Kinger and Gangle be able to rescue Zooble? Will Pomni learn a valuable life lesson? Will Jax come up with a better episode name next time? Find out next time right here on Circus Family!!!” Caine salutes you goodbye for now.