#free ticket to the circus

[iqmmir]

Some people are literally so funny like why does my existence piss you off so much why are you thinking so much about what i said i wasnt even talking to you why are you thinking so much about me are you in love with me

[sparklehoard]

Full clown outfit today 🤡

[psilactis]

just saw a post talking about how good libraries are and that they are like, the last free thing people have access to. I'm so so so glad to be brazilian. Truly a hellish experience sometimes but mostly it's so good

[tareqabuassi-gaza]

✅️ Vetted by @gazavetters, my number verified on the list is ( #286 ) ✅️

🩸🚨 Urgent 🚨🩸

Save my family from the hell of the Gaza war 🔥

$293 Raised of $92K 🍉

Updated, Jan 2025

My wife, Samar, speaks with a broken heart. 💔👇🏻

Imagine, for just a moment, that I am your sister, your daughter, or your closest friend. What would you do if your family faced relentless death, displacement, and despair?

My name is Samar. I'm a wife and the mother of three beautiful children. We lived in Gaza, clinging to a fragile semblance of normalcy despite the constant dangers. But even that shred of normalcy was shattered when a bomb destroyed our home—our sanctuary. Eighteen years of memories turned to dust in seconds.

Now, we live in a fragile tent, exposed to the merciless elements, enduring loss after loss. Friends, family members, and even my husband’s cousins have been taken from us. Each loss tears at our hearts, and the constant fear of who we might lose next is unbearable.

We’ve been displaced nine times, narrowly escaping death at every turn. All we dream of now is a safe place—a place where my children can sleep without fear, where they can simply be children.

But the reality is grim. My children are suffering terribly in the tent. Their delicate skin burns under the relentless sun, and illnesses have taken hold—respiratory infections, jaundice, gastrointestinal diseases—all due to a lack of clean water and proper food. Their innocent laughter has been replaced by fear and silence. I can’t bear to see them like this, and the thought of them growing up in a world of nothing but war and suffering terrifies me.

Escaping Gaza is our only hope. But leaving is nearly impossible without a large sum of money. Crossing the border into Egypt costs between $5,000 and $7,000 per person—an unattainable amount for a family of seven.

How You Can Help 🥹

To save my family—my husband (Tareq), my daughters (Sham, Masa, and Wateen), my father-in-law (Ziad), and my brother-in-law (Mohammed)

We need your support to cover the following 🍉

1. Passports: $120 per person (Total: $840).

2. Border Crossing to Egypt: $5,000–$7,000 per person (Total: $35,000–$49,000).

3. Visas and Plane Tickets: $800 per person (Total: $5,600).

4. Transaction Fees: ($3,000).

5. Withdrawal Fees in Gaza: Due to high commission rates (25%), we need an additional ($18,360).

Any remaining funds will provide temporary housing and food for my family as we start a new chapter of safety and hope.

A Call to Action 💞

This is not just a story of tragedy—it’s a plea for help. My family is holding onto hope, and you can be the answer to our prayers.

Every dollar donated brings us one step closer to safety. If you’re unable to donate, sharing our story could reach someone who can.

Please, act as if this were your own family. Together, we can give my children a chance to live a life free from fear, a life of dignity and peace.

🙏🏻🍉🇵🇸

@neoneone0 @p33p33p00p00 @mahougirlys @bi0feed @chiomn @futuristiccherryblossoms @market--land @jellyfishinajamjar @rainbowpuppet @names-hard @deviouscowboy @moosebebignwatching @ginnyjuicee @dogbound1128 @greybear35-blog @dangerous-tangerine @gaza @l-dot-k-2 @yung-lean-hates-you-2 @ssak-i @koobird @mininightmare2 @gazasfunds @transexualcow @bluelunas @whenyou-wheni @bolas-de-berlim @thesignpaintersstuff @sumthing69 @sentienceoverload-29 @theresamouseinmyhouse @kurtismcilroy @aswho1estuff @ratsnvermins @transvalkilmer @pipervonviper @cemetery-circus @tryceratops4 @woodwood6000 @aliensmoothie @the-number-1-iono-fan @mythicalbinicorn @talkswiththem @voidpumpkin @half-asleep-star @luvdisc69 @ghostb3loved @fuckcapitalismasshole @no-clue-just-vibin @prisonhannibal

[wonderjanga]

Marvel and the Circus

Billy and Mary are kids. You gotta remember that. And what do two, poor but not broke, kids do in their free time? Not much else other than talk to each other, work little odd jobs, and go out in their Marvel forms. So, one day, they’re bored. They also can’t find any jobs to do either, and as far as they can tell, there isn’t much crime going on. They’re kinda sitting on the curb, ignoring the local crackhead next to them who’s kinda tweaking but also minding his own business, so they would mind their own too. As they’re wallowing in boredom, all while steadily starting to wonder if the guy next to them is going to crash out, a colorful poster floats by and promptly smacks Mary in the face. When they peel it off her they see it’s a poster for a circus. One of their shows starts in about an hour too. Well would you look at that? It looks like the two know what they’re going to be doing for the day. So, they head to their little hideyhole, scrounge up as much money as they’re willing to spend on this, (Like two dollars) and head out. They get there and get to the ticket booth. Mary offers their measly two dollars, and the teller, trying not to crack a smile at the two kids, tells them that kids under 12 get in for free. Billy was going to tell him that they, in fact, were twelve, and just happened to look younger, but before he could say a word, Mary harshly stomped on his foot. While Billy was cradling his poor foot, Mary got their tickets, grabbed Billy’s arm and dragged him inside so they could find their seats. On their way, they got a single bag of strawberry pop rocks. (which was really all they could afford with two dollars) And they somehow managed to ration it for the entirety of the show.

When all was said and done, it’s safe to say the two were stuck amazed at what they had seen. When they found out that Mr.Mind had been wreaking havoc while they were being amazed by the circus troupe, they weren’t even mad! Or disappointed in themselves! They just wanted to try out the trapeze artist tricks! And so they did. Fawcett citizens were greeted with the Captain and Mary throwing each other around, swinging off of literally anything, trying to recreate the moves. Like they just straight up stopped using their abilities to fly just so they could learn. And the crazy thing is, they did. They got surprisingly good at acrobatics and throwing each other around.

Then, one day, Marvel and Batman had to work together to find a magical artifact. Billy brought Mary along and Bruce brought Dick. Little did Batman know, this combo wouldn’t be good, as he would be stuck getting mini heart attacks every time Marvel or Mary threw Dick up or around. And Bruce supposes, sure, it shouldn’t be that much of a problem. Dick is a trained acrobat, and Marvel and Mary… Well, he still doesn’t know much about their secret identities, but they seem to know what they’re doing. What Bruce is panicking over are the throws that have his kid practically touching the clouds. Granted, that is a bit of an exaggeration, but they’re throwing his boy around from about five stories up. Let Bruce be worried.

Meanwhile, Dick is just having the time of his life with these guys. The entire thing reminds him of the circus and he loves it. Plus, the Captain’s and Mary’s costumes, not to mention their personalities, remind him a bit of his dad and mom. He’s totally not going to cry into his pillow about this later, but until then, he’s going to enjoy this moment to the fullest.

[suzukiblu]

Day twelve of “obligatory sugar baby Kon” behind the cut. prev: (( chrono || non-chrono ))

Tim clears his throat and adjusts the collar of his shirt for honestly no good reason, and Kon keeps doing–Kon keeps beaming at him. There is just . . . there is just so, so much beaming happening right now, and it is very, very hard to concentrate on anything else. Or even, like, passingly think about anything else. 

Kon looks–he just looks happy, and Tim feels flustered and overwhelmed and vaguely nauseous, but like, in a good way, somehow, and . . . it’s a lot. Yeah. Just–Tim is currently feeling a lot of things, is all. Just . . . a lot. So much. 

Tim wonders if he could figure out a loophole to “legally” marry Kon despite the fact he’s fifteen and Kon is only maybe legally a person and/or citizen in the eyes of the government, because in that case even once Kon gets bored of Tim Drake he’ll be able to send him alimony payments or whatever, so– 

Actually, Tim realizes as he looks at Kon’s beaming face–at Kon’s beaming face beaming at him–and feels Kon’s hand still gripping his easily and comfortably, and Kon still leaned in closer than necessary even as they walk along the sidewalk together . . . 

Actually, he doesn’t feel like Kon’s getting bored with Tim Drake at all. 

. . . . . . huh. 

Weird, Tim thinks, a little too bewildered to figure out why he feels that way. 

“Oh, hey, that looks good,” Kon says, perking up a little more as he looks at something over Tim’s shoulder and points past him with his free hand. “We need a new dinner place, right? Wanna try it?” 

Tim looks where Kon’s pointing and frowns in confusion, because he’s pointing at a skate shop, of all things, not a restaurant or cafe or even a bar. 

“I haven’t touched a skateboard in months and also I have no idea what that has to do with dinner,” he admits, still frowning in confusion, and Kon laughs. 

“The food truck, babe,” he says with a snigger, pointing more emphatically. “You skateboard?” 

“Uh–sometimes, yeah,” Tim says, refocusing his eyes to realize–yeah, there is in fact a food truck there, parked just to the side of the skate shop. It’s very . . . yellow. Very, very brightly yellow. 

He can absolutely never, ever tell Bruce he missed something as obvious as a huge neon yellow food truck, Tim swears to himself, and then he actually registers what the truck says and . . . blinks, very slowly. 

“Is that the one-dollar grilled cheese truck?” he says. “I thought that was a meme or something.” 

“I mean, probably some bargain-basement content creator who thinks they're an influencer is running it as some publicity stunt shit, but one-dollar grilled cheese,” Kon says reasonably, except for how Tim cannot even imagine what about that statement would be “reasonable”. 

“You want to get dinner from the one-dollar grilled cheese truck?” he asks, a little incredulous about the idea. 

“We could get so many, babe,” Kon says with a gleeful grin. Tim, instinctively, is about to protest that they could get “so many” of whatever Kon wanted, in fact, and a truck that says both “cash only” and “no change given, figure out your own shit” in Impact font is literally just . . . what. What? But then he has a brief remembered flash of Dick saying there wasn’t any “one size dates all” and talking to him about circus tickets and tailoring dates to the other person's tastes and, well . . . 

“Um, sure?” he says, still vaguely bewildered. Kon needs more expensive tastes. He needs to get Kon more expensive tastes. And also maybe, like, better standards for a “nice” dinner. 

Kon beams at him again, giving his hand a squeeze, and Tim disassociates for a minute or two in an attempt to process any of that and entirely, entirely fails to. 

. . . alright, maybe some of Dick’s dating advice was helpful, he reflects. 

. . . . . . also to be fair, this also might be the Condiment King or some other D-lister about to start some shit, in which case it wouldn't hurt to throw a superhero at the problem anyway. 

And at least it's gonna be a lot of calories, right?

[cera-writes]

First Impressions - A Kurt Wagner x gn!reader one-shot

Summary: You first met Kurt at the Herr Getmann's Traveling Menagerie. The first time you laid eyes on the blue elf, you were smitten. Fast forward to the 90s and you and Kurt meet again under much different circumstances. tags: fluff, coming of age, mutual pining

The Bavarian sun, a pale orb veiled by a dusty scrim, cast a sickly yellow glow upon Herr Getmann's Traveling Menagerie. The peeling paint on the rickety wooden sign promised wonders, but the air itself held a different story. It reeked of damp straw and the acrid tang of manure, a far cry from the anticipated scent of popcorn and sugared treats. Disappointment gnawed at you, a shadow settling over your heart despite your parents' enthusiastic promises.

Your parents had dragged you along on this trip. It was your summer vacation and apparently you were there to also stay with distant relatives. But you knew your parents were in it just for the free stay and a vacation away from the States. Out of all the touristy things your parents could have picked for you to do, they chose a musty, worn down circus. Honestly, you were ready to be back in America with your friends at the arcade or skating rink. This wasn't how you imagined you'd spend your summer at all.

"C'mon darling. The show is about to start!" Your mother ushered you inside the tent as the ticket master tore your ticket stubs in half as your father followed close behind.

Inside, the spectacle was every bit as underwhelming as the exterior. The big cats, once proud denizens of the savanna, paced restlessly in cramped cages, their magnificent coats dull with neglect. Their amber eyes, once fierce and watchful, were now clouded with resignation. The stench of their confinement hung heavy in the air, a stark counterpoint to the vibrant posters plastered precariously on the weathered orange and red canvas walls. You took a seat in the rafters for the best view, if you even could call it that.

Suddenly, the loudspeaker crackled to life, the announcer's voice a tired rasp battling with static. "Presenting," he declared, his voice tinged with a hint of forced excitement, "our opening act of the night, the Mystifying Nightcrawler!" A spotlight pierced the gloom, bathing the center ring in a harsh white light. From the shadows emerged a figure unlike any you had ever seen. Your eyes widened. Was he- was he really a mutant? You had never seen one in person. He was absolutely beautiful.

"It's him..." you mother sneered. Your parents however, held gazes of contempt and disgust towards Nightcrawler, and any other mutant for that matter. You tuned out their nasty whispers and just focused on the boy standing at the platform.

He was clad in a costume that shimmered with an otherworldly sheen, a deep cobalt blue that seemed to drink in the stark light. A mask, sculpted from some unknown material, obscured his face, but a shock of blue black hair, as vibrant as a summer sky after a downpour, peeked out from beneath it. It was a stark contrast to the peeling paint and sun-bleached canvas that surrounded him.

Then, he moved. There was an effortless grace to his every action, as if defying the earth's very pull. He launched himself from a platform hidden in the shadows, his form a blur of blue and black against the harsh white backdrop. He wasn't just swinging; he was dancing, his body twisting and turning with an impossible fluidity. Every leap, every flip spoke volumes of preternatural strength and agility. He was a silent symphony in motion, an enigma wrapped in cobalt and shadow.

But it was more than just his skill that captivated you. There was an aura about him, an undeniable magnetism that drew you in like a moth to a flame. It was a mystery that whispered promises of adventure and a world hidden just beyond the confines of the dusty circus tent. With each breathtaking leap, with every impossible maneuver, a spark ignited within you, a yearning for something more, something extraordinary.

For a fleeting moment, his gaze seemed to find yours through the harsh glare of the spotlight. A jolt of electricity shot through you, a connection forged in that shared glance. Then, with a flourish that echoed the fading magic of the moment, he vanished back into the shadows, leaving behind a trail of shimmering blue and the lingering echo of wonder in your heart.

The rest of the night was a blur. The other acts faded into oblivion, their performances mere afterimages compared to the spectacle you had just witnessed. Your mind replayed the image of the Nightcrawler, his impossible agility, and the enigmatic smile hidden beneath the mask. The program, clutched tightly in your hand, became a talisman against the fading magic, a tangible reminder of the night that had stolen your breath and ignited a latent flame deep within your very core.

As the applause dwindled and the spotlight dimmed, you felt a frantic energy surge through you. You couldn't just let this incredible encounter end. You had to meet the Mystifying Nightcrawler, to thank him for his amazing performance. It totally didn't have anything to do with your newfound crush. Nope.

Despite your parents' apathy towards mutants, their dismissal fueled a rebellious spark. Seeing the way they interacted with the worn-out animals solidified your resolve. This wasn't a place of wonder, but a place where the extraordinary was exploited. But Nightcrawler, he was different. He brought a touch of magic to the dreary spectacle.

"Come on," your mother called, her voice laced with impatience, "Let's get some overpriced cotton candy and get out of here."

You mumbled an excuse, your heart hammering in your chest. Scanning the emptying stands, you spotted him – a flash of blue disappearing behind a faded red curtain. With a last furtive glance at your parents, now deep in conversation with a vendor, you sprinted towards the backstage area.

The worn canvas walls billowed in the evening breeze, and the air thrummed with a low murmur of voices. You navigated the maze of caravans, each one a peeling testament to the circus's nomadic life. Just as you were about to give up, a figure emerged from one of the larger caravans.

It was him. The Nightcrawler. But instead of his vibrant costume, he was clad in worn jeans and a simple white shirt. He held a red rose in his hand, its vibrant color stark against his stark blue fur. His mask was off, revealing kind golden eyes and a mischievous grin.

Your stomach did a nervous flip-flop. This wasn't the enigmatic performer you'd admired from afar. He had to have been around the same age as you. His vulnerability made him even more captivating. You hesitated, unsure of how to approach him.

Sensing your presence, he turned, his yellow eyes widening in surprise. Then, a smile spread across his face, as warm and genuine as the setting sun.

"“Hallo Schöne”," he said, his voice a melodic baritone. "Seems the Mystifying Nightcrawler has a little fan."

You stammered, cheeks burning. "I, uh… I just wanted to thank you. Your performance�� it was incredible. Um, you're also the first mutant I've ever seen. Sorry, I'm not from around here. I'm from America." You played with the hem of your shirt, fidgeting nervously around him.

He chuckled, a rich, rumbling sound. "Thank you, frau. You make a kind audience. I hope I did not frighten you. I know I look a bit... ungewöhnlich."

He held out the rose. "Would you care for this?"

You hesitated for a moment, then reached out to take the flower, its soft petals cool against your fingertips. "It's beautiful," you breathed.

His gaze held yours, an unspoken question lingering in his eyes. "So," he said, his voice dropping a touch, "what's a junge Dame like you doing backstage at a traveling circus?"

You inhaled deeply, the scent of hay and diesel fuel filling your lungs. As you spoke, a strange tingling sensation crawled up your arm, making the hairs stand on end. It felt... electric, like a current running just beneath the surface of your skin. You flinched, dropping your gaze from Kurt's captivating golden eyes to the rose in your hand.

"I…" you started, your voice catching in your throat. The tingling intensified, spreading across your body in a wave. Panic surged through you, a primal fear of the unknown. Before you could apologize or explain the sudden tremor, your vision blurred at the edges. The world seemed to distort around you, the vibrant red rose in your hand pulsing with an otherworldly glow.

Kurt's demeanor shifted instantly. His playful smile vanished, replaced by a mask of concern. He reached out, his hand hovering a safe distance from yours. "Are you alright, Freund ?" he asked, his voice laced with worry.

You struggled to speak, your tongue thick and heavy. The strange energy within you crackled, yearning to be released. This wasn't the first time your body reacted this way. You feared the worst. You were starting to believe you were a mutant too. But you could never reveal that to your parents.

They'd disown you in a heartbeat. All those scholarships they made you apply for would never matter if they found out you were different. You knew you needed to get away, to disappear before you lost control and revealed your secret in front of the mysterious Nightcrawler.

"I… I don't feel well," you managed to force out, your voice shaky. Shame burned in your stomach for the abrupt change. "I should get back to my parents."

Kurt's eyes flickered with understanding. He nodded, a hint of sadness in his gaze. "Of course," he said gently. "Let me take you to them."

He moved with his trademark agility, guiding you through the maze of caravans with an ease that left you breathless. You stumbled slightly, your legs shaky under the weight of the unknown power coursing through you. Kurt offered you his arm for support, but before you could reach for it, your parents' voices cut through the air.

"There you are!" your mother exclaimed, her voice laced with annoyance. "We've been looking everywhere for you!"

You turned to see them approaching, their faces etched with concern. When they spotted Kurt hovering beside you, their expressions hardened.

"Don't touch our child, freak!" your father barked, his voice thick with disgust.

Shame washed over you, hot and suffocating. Kurt's hand recoiled as if struck. His shoulders slumped, the joy that had previously emanated from him extinguished.

"I was just helping, Herr," he said, his voice mild yet firm. "They seemed unwell."

Your mother scoffed. "Don't need any help from your kind." She grabbed your arm possessively, dragging you away before you could even look back at Kurt.

"Wait!" you cried, struggling against her grip. But your voice was lost in the bustle of the crowd. You stole a final glance over your shoulder, only to see Kurt standing alone, with one hand rubbing subconsciously over his other right bicep.

His yellow eyes, once filled with warmth, now held a flicker of sadness as they looked off in the distance. He was the first of his kind that you had met and you finally felt like you resonated with him. But it was all too short lived. All you were left of him was the single red rose he'd given you as a memory of your encounter.

With a heavy heart, you were whisked away from the circus, your first encounter with the Mystifying Nightcrawler ending abruptly, leaving a bittersweet aftertaste and a burning question: would you ever see him again?

The 90s were a whirlwind of discovering and finally, somewhat, honing your mutant abilities. Mutants, now looked down upon more than ever, made you even more of an advocate for your kind. You got that scholarship but at the expense of your parents actually disowning you after a fight at the dinner table ended up with your mother's smashed fine China on the floor at the expense of your powers.

For some reason, they'd brought up Nightcrawler again and it sickened you to the point that you'd had enough. When they found out you were just another "freak" that was the last straw and they kicked you out and you never heard from them again. Good riddance you'd said.

The only thing that sucked about them kicking you out was that you had to quickly find a job and a place to live or you'd end up just another homeless mutant on the streets. All that trust fund money had long gone down the drain when they cut you off completely.

You were residing in New York now. You found a dingy little apartment to live in while you finished up your degree in Advanced Physics. You were finally set to graduate this month and after that, who knows.

You wanted to find a job and finally move out of the crappy little apartment you'd called home for a few years now. At least your neighbor next door, Peter Parker, was usually quiet and it gave you room to study without having to complain with a knock at his door, even if he did come and go at odd times of the night.

One particular day, you were sitting at your favorite little corner coffee shop, studying for your final exam, when all hell broke loose on the street. A piece of large shrapnel flew through the glass of the shop, eliciting screams and terrified shouts from pedestrians as people flew to take cover.

You dove for cover under the overturned coffee table, your heart a frantic drum against your ribs. The tremor that had rattled the windows had morphed into a full-blown city-rattling rampage. But it wasn't an earthquake. The tremors moved, a monstrous crimson figure stomping through the city streets, leaving a trail of destruction in its wake.

Juggernaut. You recognized him from news reports – a mutant powerhouse the X-Men struggled to contain. And here he was, rampaging through your city like a bull in a china shop.

Panic threatened to consume you, but amidst the chaos, a voice in your head rose above the fear. You were no longer the scared kid, afraid of their powers, who watched Nightcrawler perform at the circus.

If this new era taught you anything, it was discovering your mutant abilities, the escalating anti-mutant sentiment, and the brutal fight with your parents that ended with disownment and shattered family heirlooms. The memory of them calling you a "freak" like Nightcrawler still stung, but it also ignited a fire within you. You wouldn't be another victim.

Squinting past the overturned table, you saw the X-Men, their familiar blue and gold uniforms standing resolute against the crimson giant. And there he was, Nightcrawler – older, even more handsome than you'd remembered, but with the same twinkle in his eyes. He fought with a desperate grace, teleporting in and out, trying to flank Juggernaut. But the red behemoth seemed unstoppable.

It was now or never. Taking a deep breath, you channeled the theoretical knowledge from years of studying advanced physics. The raw energy of the city pulsed around you, a live wire waiting to be tapped into. It felt almost like an extension of yourself, hungry for release. You stood, running from your sense of security, and joined the chaos outside.

With a surge of will, you unleashed it. A concentrated beam of pure energy, hotter than a thousand suns, erupted from your outstretched palms. It slammed into Juggernaut's side, the red giant staggering with a surprised grunt. The X-Men seized their chance, a flurry of attacks momentarily halting the crimson tide. Cyclops blasted an optic beam, Storm unleashed a swirling vortex of wind, and Wolverine harried Juggernaut with his adamantium claws.

Kurt, finally free from the relentless onslaught, materialized beside you, his yellow familiar eyes widening in disbelief. It was as if he'd seen a ghost. "It's you," he rasped, his voice barely audible over the din of the battle.

You offered a small smile, a mixture of exhilaration and exhaustion. "Helping hand, remember?" Your voice was hoarse, but it held a newfound strength. With another surge of energy, you deflected a stray blow from Juggernaut, allowing Storm to unleash another torrent of wind.

The X-Men, rejuvenated by your unexpected intervention, pressed their attack. Professor Xavier's telepathic voice boomed, urging Juggernaut to stand down. The fight raged on, but your power tip, the concentrated beam of pure energy, proved to be the turning point. Juggernaut, overwhelmed by the combined forces of the X-Men and your unique ability, faltered. His helmet had crumbled, rendering him vulnerable.

Finally, with a roar of frustration, Juggernaut surrendered, taken away by the NYPD as they forced his hefty frame into the back of a mutant prisoner containment vehicle. Exhausted but victorious, the X-Men regrouped. Kurt materialized beside you once more, his gaze still filled with awe and disbelief. "Freund," he repeated, his voice thick with emotion. "Is it really you?"

You met his gaze, no longer the scared kid from the dusty circus tent. The years of hardship and self-discovery had forged you into a new person. With a defiant smile, you nodded, ready to tell your story and finally find your place amongst the X-Men.

You wanted more than anything to catch up with the infamous Nightcrawler. But Professor Xavier was making his way over to you, clearly wanting a word. The look on his face was nothing short of astonishment. Kurt, sensing this, gave you a reassuring nod as he turned to join the others once more.

"Are you alright, young one?" he inquired, his voice warm and calming.

You nodded, finding your voice a little hoarse. "Yes, Professor. Just a bit… surprised, I guess." You couldn't believe you were talking to the Professor X.

"Surprised?" he echoed, raising an eyebrow. "I imagine so. But you were quite… extraordinary out there."

The compliment brought a shy smile to your face. You explained how you'd been studying advanced physics, how the energy in the city resonated with you, and how you'd finally been able to control it. You confessed your situation too, about the fight with your parents and being disowned. Shame burned in your stomach, but you held Professor Xavier's gaze.

"It seems you have much to learn, young one," he said, his voice filled with understanding. "But you also have much to teach. We've been looking for someone to help our young mutants hone their abilities, someone who understands the science behind them." His eyes twinkled. "Would you be interested in a position at the X-Mansion, once you graduate of course?"

A wave of emotions washed over you – relief, hope, and a flicker of something more. The X-Mansion. A place where you could belong, where you could use your abilities without fear. You looked at Kurt, who stood a few feet away, a wide grin plastered on his face. His saffron eyes held a spark of excitement, mirroring your own.

"I… I'd be honored sir," you stammered, a genuine smile blooming on your face.

Professor Xavier chuckled. "Excellent. Now, how about we get you cleaned up and settled in? The X-Mansion can be your home. In the meantime, we can work on your new alias." He chuckled lightly.

The mansion, a sprawling structure that seemed to rise organically from the wooded landscape, took your breath away. It was a world away from your cramped apartment, a sanctuary for those who were different. You settled in quickly, the warmth of the X-Men a stark contrast to the cold rejection you'd faced at home.

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the lake behind the mansion in hues of orange and pink, you found yourself drawn to its peaceful serenity. As you sat on the edge of the dock, a sudden bamf! sound reverberated next to you as a scent of brimstone hung in the air. It was Nightcrawler.

Suddenly, you felt very conscious and shy all over gain. It was really him. There was no mistaking that sheen of blue fur that lined his skin.

"Quite the entrance you made today," he said, a playful glint in his eyes.

You laughed, a nervous flutter in your chest. "I figured you could use some help."

Silence settled between you, punctuated only by the gentle lapping of the water. You took a deep breath, finally ready to share your story.

"Remember what you said at the circus? About me being a kind audience?"

Kurt nodded, a flicker of curiosity crossing his features.

"Well," you continued, your voice dropping to a whisper, "I wasn't just kind. I was… smitten. You were the first mutant I ever saw, and it was like watching magic. The thought that for one second, I wasn't alone. That there was another similar to me."

You explained how your parents' reaction had fueled your fear, how you'd kept the rose all these years. You confessed how they'd called you a "freak" just like you'd mentioned, and how you'd ended up alone after they disowned you.

Kurt listened intently, his expression a mix of sympathy and something else you couldn't quite decipher. When you finished, he reached out, taking your hand gently in his. His blue fur felt surprisingly warm against your skin.

"My Freund," he said, his voice soft yet firm, "You are no freak. You are extraordinary. And your parents… well, they were wrong. Trust me, I've lived all my life thinking I was an abomination."

You felt a twist of pain at his words. He was so kind and sweet. Even just so as the night when you'd met him the first time back at that old, sketchy Bavarian circus.

He squeezed your hand, and a spark shot through you. You looked into his eyes, seeing a reflection of your own feelings there.

"The truth is," Kurt confessed, a hint of a blush creeping up his neck, "you've never left my mind either. There was something about you that day, a spark I couldn't ignore."

Your heart was hammering inside your chest. The thought of him feeling the same way all those years sent a warmth throughout your body. The thought that you'd somehow made an impression on him sent butterflies wildly dancing in your stomach.

The truth hung heavy in the air, a silent confession echoed in Kurt's blushing cheeks and your own hammering heart. The twilight sky, ablaze in fiery hues, seemed to witness the unspoken yearning that crackled between you.

His touch, a gentle pressure on your hand, sent a jolt of electricity through your body. You leaned in, drawn by a force stronger than gravity. The kiss, when it came, was a revelation – tentative at first, then deepening with a passion that mirrored the vibrant tapestry of the setting sun.

His lips were warm and surprisingly soft against yours, the sweet taste of berries lingering on his tongue. Your hand reached up, tracing the contours of his face, the velvety texture of his blue fur sending shivers down your spine. He reciprocated, his touch delicate yet firm, as if afraid to break the spell.

The kiss deepened, a silent conversation flowing through the press of your lips. He tasted of adventure, of something innocent but also skilled in the ways of romance. A gentle breeze rustled the nearby leaves, momentarily pulling you apart.

"It's Kurt... my name is Kurt Wagner," he'd finally told you his name.

You gazed into Kurt's eyes, a newfound understanding blooming there. The dam holding back your emotions seemed to break.

"Kurt," you whispered, your voice thick with a desire you could no longer deny.

He responded with a low rumble in his chest, his blue fur darkening with a blush. Without a word, he scooped you up in his arms, teleporting you both to a deserted corner of the mansion's rooftop.

The cool night air whipped around you, carrying with it the distant sound of laughter and music from the common room. The city lights twinkled in the distance, a glittering backdrop for the nascent intimacy unfolding between you.

His touch became bolder, exploring the exposed skin of your arms, sending shivers down your spine. Your fingers trailed down his back, tracing the ridges of his spine and the surprising strength hidden beneath his lithe frame. Clothes became an unwelcome barrier, discarded in a tangle of limbs and whispered promises.

The moonlight, a silent witness to your blossoming love, bathed your entwined forms in an ethereal glow. Passion flared like wildfire, fueled by the years of unspoken attraction and the shared trauma that had bound you together.

The night unfolded in a symphony of whispered endearments and stolen breaths. With each touch, each lingering kiss, the anxieties of your past faded, replaced by the promise of a future brighter than the city lights on the horizon. You'd found each other, and this time nothing would take Kurt away from you.

[kefiteria]

FOR YOUR EYES ONLY.

A comfort letter from Scaramouche, just for you.

So, I've noticed you've been retreating into your mind more than usual lately. It's like you're doing a disappearing act even Houdini would envy. But hey, I get it. People are complicated creatures, and occasionally it feels safer to hide behind our thoughts than to face the chaos out there.

About this facade you've got going on. You know, the one where you're holding on to your inner child like it's a winning lottery ticket? It's almost comical how tightly you cling to it, as if someone's lurking around the corner waiting to snatch it away. Newsflash: nobody's taking it from you, dear.

Now, about those tears. I know, I know, crying is for the weak, right? Wrong. Even the toughest nuts crack sometimes. Take it from me, I've shed more tears than I care to admit, and yet here I am, still standing, still better as ever. You don't have to plaster on that smile 24/7, you know. Let those tears flow like a leaky faucet if you need to.

And speaking of tough times, let's talk about failure. It's not the end of the world, despite what your overactive brain might be telling you. Trust me, I've had my fair share of failures, and look at me now—still standing, scheming and myself.

So, when are you going to cut yourself some slack? Stop beating yourself up over things that are as out of your control as the weather. Tomorrow's just another day in the grand circus of life, and guess what? I'm your ringmaster, baby. You're not in this alone.

And those feelings you've been bottling up? Yeah, it's time to pop the cork and let 'em out. Trust me, it's like a pressure valve for the soul. Cry if you need to, scream into the void if you must. Just don't keep it all locked up inside. That's a recipe for disaster, believe me.

So, here's the deal: you're not alone in this. I've got your back, whether you're crying like a baby or plotting world domination (ugh just do it in moderation though). Just remember, it's okay to let your guard down once in a while. After all, even the sharpest swords need a little sharpening now and then.

Alright, let's wrap this up before I start growing a conscience or something equally absurd. Seriously, who knew pouring my heart out on paper could be so exhausting? I feel like I've been on a marathon run through a field of emotional landmines, and I'm not even wearing my running shoes.

But hey, if this little rant of mine manages to knock some sense into that stubborn head of yours, then I guess it's worth the carpal tunnel I'm bound to get from all this writing. Just promise me one thing: don't go making a habit out of this whole “feeling your feelings” nonsense. It's bad for my image.

So, there you have it. Consider this your one and only free pass to the sappy side of Scaramouche. Don't get used to it. Now go on, get out there and conquer the world, or cry yourself a river, whichever floats your boat. Just remember: you're not alone in this crazy circus we call life. I've got your back, whether you like it or not.

“It's okay, your world, and feelings are precious, so precious just like you are now.”

Fondly yours (don't make it a habit),

Scaramouche.

Other Version 🍨: Zhongli , Kazuha, Xiao, Thoma

[prettyoddfever]

Helio's Fairfax videos of the NRWC tour

The Nothing Rhymes With Circus tour was sponsored by Helio, who had giant screens in the arenas. Helio also gave some fans a free ticket if they volunteered to hand out ads at shows. Helio's logo was on signs & posters:

Here are the Panic guys holding Helio phones:

Anyways, Helio professionally recorded the Fairfax show (and did an iffy job, but I'll come back to that tangent). The best quality video that we got was Lying Is The Most Fun, which was released on this cd/dvd at Target around the start of February 2007. Here's a recent rip (which is way better than what we used to be able to upload):

The other footage was basically used as promotional stuff for Helio. Panic's myspace bulletin in early February 2007 said that Helio "shot some live concert footage of five favorite Panic! songs with their exclusive all-access backstage pass. Check out the five music video shorts available only on myspace.com/helio." You could watch like one minute of the shorts on myspace. They were for Lying, IWSNT, Build God, The Only Difference, and BIBIYD.

Here's an example I just edited together of some shorts:

Ok let me get go off on a short rant/tangent. In my teenage opinion, Helio phones were tacky and no amount of P!ATD association was going to change that. I didn't know anyone who had one. Helio's whole gimmick was that those phones *HAD MYSPACE* as like part of them. This ad is actually an excellent summary of how stupid their phones were:

So Panic's post said that if you had a Helio phone, you could "type in PANIC (72642), hit the center flame key to select JUMP, and then download the exclusive full-length music videos to your Helio. You can’t get these anywhere else!" Please understand that this quality was not that great lol. But this is my best guess why the professionally recorded Fairfax show wasn't released on dvd... it was just meant to be an exclusive for a small number of people to keep on their ugly phones.

Here's an example of a longer video... the fan who posted this got it from Lex Halaby's site (he did other video work for FBR too):

Honestly, though, I don't love the Fairfax footage. I actually kind of hate it and agree with the criticisms I heard from many other fans back then. The audio is absolutely terrible, whatever they did to the lighting is weird, and the whole NRWC vibe gets killed. So even though I would love to see a professional NRWC recording, the Fairfax footage is not it.

[whencyclopedia]

Roman Games, Chariot Races & Spectacle

If there was one thing the Roman people loved it was spectacle and the opportunity of escapism offered by weird and wonderful public shows which assaulted the senses and ratcheted up the emotions. Roman rulers knew this well and so to increase their popularity and prestige with the people they put on lavish and spectacular shows in purpose-built venues across the empire. Such famous venues as the Colosseum and Circus Maximus of Rome would host events involving magnificent processions, exotic animals, gladiator battles, chariot races, executions and even mock naval battles.

Venues

It is significant that most of the best-preserved buildings from the Roman period are those which were dedicated to entertainment. Amphitheatres and circuses were built across the empire and even army camps had their own arena. The largest amphitheatre was the Colosseum with a capacity of at least 50,000 (likely more, if one factors in the smaller bodies and different sense of personal space compared to modern standards) whilst the Circus Maximus could hold a massive 250,000 spectators according to Pliny the Elder. With so many events on such a large scale, spectacles became a huge source of employment, from horse trainers to animal trappers, musicians to sand rakers.

From the end of the republic seats in the theatre, arena and circus were divided by class. Augustus established further rules so that slaves and free persons, children and adults, rich and poor, soldiers and civilians, single and married men were all seated separately, as were men from women. Naturally, the front row and more comfortable seats were reserved for the local senatorial class. Tickets were probably free to most forms of spectacle as organisers, whether city magistrates given the responsibility of providing public civic events, super-rich citizens or the emperors who would later monopolise control of spectacles, were all keen to display their generosity rather than use the events as a source of revenue.

Continue reading...

[lafayette-paw-arts]

Ok Real Question.

What is with all the circus imagery in Hell? Like Lucifer is obviously a ringleader, and when he's singing with Charlie the background is that of a circus tent (along with a spotlight on her at one point) But there's so many other things!

So there's the obvious ones of the lions and the elephants on the fireplace. Lions and elephants being staples of animals you'd expect to see in a circus.

There is also ringmaster canes above the fireplace. Probably a reference to Lucifer himself, but it still counts as circus imagery.

We've got horses and lions on the walls. Horses also being staples for circus's.

The obvious circus tents on the doors and windows.

With these ones I recognize it's probably a reference to Lucifer, but snake charmers are a thing in a circus too, so it's still on theme, and a sign that says tickets.

Then we get to Lucifer related shit. In this shot along there's circus tent imagery as well as a circus elephant teapot.

We've got a circus tent, then puppets.

A knife thrower board. (See the circled knives)

More circus tent backgrounds from Luci.

And even a spotlight on Charlie during this leap. That pose also seems pretty circus-like in and of itself.

We also have the line "When I tried this all before" from Lucifer.

So my theory/question is, did Lucifer maybe have a circus instead of a hotel when he was trying the same thing? I think yes, and I think even the sins were involved in his attempt at what Charlie is doing now. Let's just look at Helluva Boss.

First things first, circus shit seems to be completely ingrained in hell.

We've literally seen that clowns are so popular that they are basically celebrities, so much so that there's whole competitions that are widely popular to see who the next big clown will be.

Then we have the sins themselves. We've only seen 3 so far (not counting Lucifer if he is the sin of pride)

First we have mr clown himself, Mammon. He's obviously a clown and runs all the clown competitions and clown related shit.

Then we have Bee, let's be honest she's probably supposed to be a beast tamer given her domain seems to be over the hellhounds.

But she could just be a "food stall person" because she's handing out snacks, including the signature of her song, cotton candy, a circus staple.

Now here comes the harder part... Ozzie.

There's no absolutely clear answer as to what he could probably be, I could make many jokes that he's supposed to be the contortionist (which would still work)

We do see silks above his bed, so he could also be a performer who uses aerial silks.

But honestly, I think he's a fire breather, we see flames are a part of his skill set.

And we literally see him blowing fire onto the stick for Fizz to use in his performance. (So he still fits into the theory)

Unfortunately we haven't seen any other sins (again I'm not counting Lucifer for this) So I don't know how they would fit into the theory here.

But I am firmly in the belief that Lucifer did in fact try redemption shit before but with a circus instead of a hotel and the sins helping him, and that would be why circus shit is so ingrained in Hell and why there's circus imagery fucking everywhere. (Tho it is more obvious in Helluva boss)

Thank you for coming to my ted talk XD. I'm glad you stuck around to the end of my little theory here. If anyone has anything they'd want to add or discuss feel free to leave a comment!

[oversizedmen]

THE STRONG MAN OF THIS CIRCUS WEIGHTS MORE THAN 3 ELEPHANTS !! AND HE IS 20FT TALL !!

COME FOR YOUR FREE TICKETS !! ;)

[sgiandubh]

Anon rebelde.

A Cait le ha costado pero ha aprendido como intentar hacer creíble su relación con Tony aunque el sigue tan poco colaborativo como se ve en el vídeo de IFTA

No hay llegada a los premios porque la ultima vez, el papel de guardabrigo de Tony a la salida del coche de Cait quedó bien patente y ese paso atrás como buen asistente ha quedado para la historia.

No hay desfile en la Red Carpet con Tony porque la velocidad de Cait para alejarse de el saben que es carne de gifs.

Las manos de Tony debajo de la mesa porque sus últimos aplausos denotaban un cierto manierismo muy poco varonil.

Cait radiante, esperando el barrido de la cámara, mientras Tony parece ajeno a lo que sucede alrededor con una sonrisa que podríamos describir como una mueca.

En resumen, la enésima puesta en escena del circo Tait. Si aún hay alguien que compre entradas para ese espectáculo es su problema, no el nuestro.

Dear, dear Anon Rebelde,

¡Te extrañé! Bienvenida de nuevo, en uno de los momentos más bajos que parece que nos gustan con tanto masoquismo, de este lado de la valla. Pero primero, la traducción:

'It did cost Cait, but she learned how to try and make her relationship to Tony look credible, even if he still doesn't seem willing to collaborate, as the IFTA clip shows us.

There is no arrival at the awards because last year, Tony's role as coat handler when leaving Cait's car was blatantly obvious and that relegation to good assistant went on record.

There is no parade on the Red Carpet with Tony because of Cait's haste in getting away from him. They know it's gif material.

Tony's hands are under the table because last year's applause denoted a certain, very unmanly, mannerism.

Cait beams, waiting for the camera to pan, while Tony seems oblivious to what is happening around him, with a smile that could rather be described as a grimace.

In short, the umpteenth staging of the Tait circus. If there is still someone who buys tickets for that show, it is their problem, not ours.'

I overall agree, as always, with your very balanced evaluation of the current state of play. But I also think tickets for that particular show will always be a hot sale in this fandom, either because it will be just up some people's alley (Mordor - I am amazed at the stupidity of their discussing the concept and some of them never heard of Tolkien: mind boggles), or because of the collective trauma/Stockholm syndrome many of us, here, still display. What I mean by that is very simple: for eight years now, we, shippers have been hostages of that Narrative and when something happens along those lines, we will surely react, giving all its toxicity renewed space and airtime. I am not judging anybody, here, because this is only human (and to many, the trauma is palpable) and there is nothing to judge. This is, however, a well-known group behavior dynamic that never fails to deliver. What she did was simply to double down on her PDA. But the experiment failed, because even five years after that Remarkable Week-end, the man still can't be arsed to show any organic enthusiasm or even involvement in his whereabouts. Cue in the SC nostalgia pic galore on shipping blogs and I have to say I am not really a fan: it just fuels that disco inferno cycle and exposes us to the same old, vile criticism, when the core of the shipping belief system is to be found elsewhere. Again, not judging anyone, just trying to understand behavior patterns, here.

Plus, I am really sorry, but he has been looking all sorts of terrible for quite a while, now. Blaming the camera angle (cortisone bloating) or the lighting systems is as mendacious and idiotic as the people circulating it. This kind of free propaganda is also known by all the interested parties and it also never fails to deliver, for many reasons it would be useless to further analyze.

Looking forward to read your witty take on things next time, darling. Siempre un placer leerte, corazon.

[brujasyazfalto]

I've started to concept the idea for a The Amazing Digital Circus x Ride the Cyclone AU

Right now the name is

The Amazing Digital Cyclone

But it might change in the future, work in progress and everything.

Right now everything is in a concept stage and is subject to change in the future, expect the Masterpost and other official content at the end of November.

CONTEXT & INFO [WIP]

The AU will just mix the premise of TADC with the one of RTC instead of being a "Ride the Cyclone but what if TADC characters" type of story. Instead, the story will have the TADC human cast finding themselves, after brutally dying in a rollercoaster incident, in a circus-like-wonderland in-between life and death created by The Marvelous Caine. Here, the members of the Circus shall compete for a chance of being revived, but who's worth it the most?

None of the members remember their past lives, only the feeling they had during and about their death. They do not share the backstories with the original RTC cast, they will share some similarities with some of them at most.

All characters are adults around the same age they are in the original show. They all work/are connected to Uranium's local church and are part of the chuaior, most of the joining as it could have been their ticket out of that boring town.

DESIGNS [WIP]

All the designs shown here are, well, still being designed. Ponmi's specially is still in development, you can take the bottom right head shot as the direction I've decided to take. It's really hard designing a Ponmi, mad kudos to those who already did!

I don't plan on changing Caine's design outside from expanding it and adding more detail. He was very easy to design and all the elements floated into place as I drew, unlike Ponmi who has been hell on earth. I change his title from "The Amazing" to "The Marvelous" because, and bare with me, the world marvelous feels more purple to me and that is this version of Caine's main color. I don't know how I feel about taking away his characteristic red but I do like the diversity it brings to the "Caine roster".

Bubble takes after the rat that's nibbling Karnek wires (ultimately killing both of them in the end), I do not know if the same will happen in this universe though. I might make some slight tweets to his design cause I just can't seem to get the teeth right.

I haven't made any other concept art for the other members designs but I will get there eventually!

OTHER

I don't know what is the format this au is being taught in (comic, show, video game, visual novel and so on...) so any type of world building in that way is a bit iffy.

Consequently, I have no idea if any NPCs like GummyGoo or the Angle will appear but I do like the idea of having them in the au... so who knows?

I'd like to add Able in some way shape or form but try as I might I CAN'T SQUEEZE HIM IN! IT JUST LOOKS LIKE THAT ONE GUY WHO SELF-INSERTED HIMSELF INTO AMPHIBIA I SWEAR!

This is done by a TADC fan who enjoys the concept of Ride the Cyclone and its songs, my priority in what I stay truthfull to is TADC. I just took what I liked from RTC and now I'll create a story with it.

That being said, see you when I update. Feel free to ask questions!

[ihopesocomic]

This is all forgetting the fact that a single given chatbot ai on average uses more electricity in a day than your entire house. Chatgpt uses more electricity than several STATES.

And when people say "corporations are more responsible for environmental damage than the average consumer" it also doesn't mean you have free reign to deride an ai's energy consumption while also still using it. Chat bots are not a necessity.

It's literally fuckin everywhere too. Automated voice calls, customer services, web browser applications, p*rn bots, crypto mining, job offers, ticket sales. If it's taking that much electricity, it's taking that much in water resources as well.

It's taking jobs from writers, journalists, musicians, artists, graphic designers, clothing designers, video game producers, voice actors, actor-actors. And y'all just think it's good ol fashioned good times just because you're "talking" to a fuckin anime character. Get real, there's actual damage being done by your so-called "hobby".

The irreparable damage this is doing to human culture is insane too. People having actual emotional attachments to /robots/ like this is some sci-fy novel. People are literally giving NPC behavior. I cannot count the number of people over the last year we've blocked because we thought they were bots but they weren't?? I thought I was losing my mind. Not to mention that third places have been stolen from all of us and corporations are literally justifying how much better it is for everyone because no one has to interact with anyone ever? (And we all know corporations only have our best interests in mind /sarcasm.) And a lot of y'all are just... fine with this because, what, you're socially awkward? Do you have any idea what the cost of having that mentality is?

I know half these people are actually lazy and think the creative process is a fuckin chore, but some of these people are just so vehemently against the human experience that they don't even stop to think about what they're even arguing about. And don't get me started on the fuckin clowns over at NaNoWriMo who say if you're against Ai, you're ableist and probably racist too. Actual circus performances over here.

This is not the direction anyone wants ai to go in. And pretending that what you do is harmless is adding to the problems at hand. I don't mean to seem insensitive to peoples' situations but you're not exactly being sensitive to the rest of us. The internet is incomprehensibly huge. I guarantee you that you will find like-minded people as yourself. You just have to try. Like actually try. - Cat

[siremasterlawrence]

Spider-Man swung in to Metropolis by way of his web landing on top of The Daily Planet Building in excitement, he throws himself ok to the aid backflipping on to the edge of the gigantic building and sleuths every one in the area. He spots his man as he races to undress in to his street clothes as they all float in to the air, he uses his hands to form signature sign shooting webs in to the air sticking them to the top of the building along with his pack back. He backflips on to the edges of the building climbing down the glass walls miles upon a level of miles he goes down unaware of what awaits him this day and as he hits the the grounds and he jumps off the building doing a superhero landing. He quickly sneaks around the corner to go walking in to the building with pep in his step as he races over to tap Clark Kent on huge ass muscular shoulder and they shake hands vigorously taking stock of their prep for the interview.The man who they are interviewing tonight is a hot ticket at the moment standing up so boldly with this toxic type of smile as he is radiating and he offers a hand for them to shake and invites them to join them on to the elevator.The doors for the elevator closing the glass door as it beginning to speed upward to the main office as the elevator shaft start to be able to blink like strobe lights and as they are blinded by it consuming them in the room.The man is not bothered clearly laying his back on the glass wall as they are blindedby the light flashing in his face as they are slowly starting to force him to freeze and the young man feels absolutely in control as he begins to ponder.He obviously knows that this man Clark Kent is no mere guy who happens to be a award winning reporter but actually he is the great Superman and Peter Parker is the perfectly phenomenal Spider-man not a mere student at all.The man laughs as the two freeze leaving plenty of room for them man to enjoy all of his current situation, his hands now lay on him as he starts to spread his hands all over him and grope him extremely tightly as they do not move.The door stops at the floor swinging open with a loud swooshing sound as he walks off of the shaft on to the main floor, pointing to the seats as they mindlessly taking both of the seats available behind the desk as they smirk in excitement of it all.

“Mr Kent and Mr. Parker” the man says to them and snaps his fingers.

“Oh Mr. Lawrence! May I set up please?” Clark asked unaware.

“Where should I set up?” Parker adds.

“In the middle of the room”

“Center of the circus”

“Yes Sir”

“Yes Perfect”

“Shall we commence?”

“Please do! Where do we start?”

“I have an idea! I am in charge”

“Now wait a minute! We agreed to…”

“Shut the fuck up! Zip it”

“I know both of your identities”

“No! I am Clark Kent”

“You are confused”

“I am very clear and open minded “

“What do you want with us?”

“Oh sweet! I love the smell of fear, confusion and resistance.”

“You sick bastard “

“Twisted motherfucker”

“Focus…now…tsk tsk”

“You love me”

“Keep denying it”

“I can see it in your eyes “

The two stood astound by the nerve on this man who continues or ramble on stomping his feet at with effect as a giant tumble rod form under the ground capturing Super-man shoot upward and covers him from head to toe as the floor splits in to a circular form and it drops in. Peter is left in a gripping sense of fear as he holds his heart tightly holding him down as he trips falling backwards on to the wall as he slides downward to the ground rolling to the side of the room and I watch the full on throttle of wondrous leveling of submissionbecause he will learn soon. The man walks up to him kneeling down to one knee gripping his collar as he lifts him up to full height, he is a short stomp at this point compared to the other Peters he had collected off time and I shove his face to see my finger pointing towardthe glass container holding three other Peters in suits.Below the building free falling to the bottom of the build he hit the basement shattering the entire glass case as the pieces shooting everywhere on to the floor, Superman’s body is thrown in to the air tumbling to the ground his back hits the wall, hit smashes on the floor as he is knocked unconscious at my will. The walls behind him slide open to the either sides of the room as a robot walks forward on to the floor grabbing him by ways of his under arm pits lifting him up on to the side of his shoulders and carries him inside of the hidden room as the door drops on to the grounds the light fades and Clark is no more. Superman’s body is dragging across the grounds being shoved in to a metal device locking him in place as Clark comes of in a panic he is in fear for his life but all would end soon Clark s blown away when a pair o goggles descend down facing Clark as it blares in tohis eyes deeply blasting the light into both eyes scanning him then erasing his memory as it goes on and soon Clark’s mind bares no memory he stand dumb, brainless and full of shit literally as he burps, farts and idiotic bro smile covering his face.A large boom sound comes through hitting Clark hard as his reality fades all the way in to the background he watches the front side door slip up to reveal a beautiful blow glow to the light. The reality of his situation as the man steps in to the light the same one who they came to investigate cups his chin very tightly with smirk and a strange grip no other human could ever. “Clark Kent AKASuperman you are now my personal toy, a favorite I will play with for all eternity and you will never regret it.” The man cups his chin pushing him in to a kiss instantly his mouth fills up with kryptonite gas filling up his throat and through his body as he has no choice but to succumb.

“Yes Master! I adhere to you! What do I do with that Parker loser?” He ask annoyed at the world.

“Bring him to his knees all three of them”

“Three? Hmmm Fun”

Clark ascends to the roof top to watch all three Peter’s trapped in their own spider webs, Clark carrying his Master Lawrence places him down and breaks through the glass leaving it in pieces, and ripping all of the webs done as it all shreds to pieces and the three legends appear at the side.

“Master Lawrence is commanding you! He awaits.”

“Yes Superman! We will follow him if you lead to serve Lawrence.”

The end