#i don't think id ever be good enough for performing

[a-na-dhil]

i think my biggest struggle in life is being a theatre fan, and in particular a musical fan, while not having any talent whatsoever for dancing, singing or acting.

[girlivealwaysbean]

spending my whole life trying and trying and trying and trying to be good enough for people who don't give a fuck about me

[golden-cherry]

deal - cl16 (42/?)

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader

Series Summary: Your whole life has gone to shit. Your boyfriend broke up with you, you just lost your job and the Monegasque, who suddenly stands in your doorway, claims that it’s his apartment.

Chapter Summary: The new bed is here! And Joris isn't happy about it!

Warnings: 18+ (mentions of sex), fluff

Word Count: 3.3k

series masterlist

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A/N: LETS GOOOOOOOO!!! FORZA FERRARI!!!

“It was really nice of you to take the photos for Enzo and Charlotte,” Charles says as you both get into the car in the afternoon. He buckles up and starts the engine. 

“It's my job, after all,” you smile and make yourself comfortable in the passenger seat. 

Charles steers the car out of the driveway. "Well, actually it's your job to take pictures of me, not of my brother's engagement," he corrects you, for which you gently punch him on the shoulder. 

“I still enjoyed doing it,” you say. "I'm very happy for Enzo and Charlotte. They seem like the perfect couple.”

Charles purses his lips and nods. "They've been together for a long time. We were all wondering when he would finally pop the question. But I didn't think he'd actually do it during Christmas.”

You look at him. ���Why not?”

“I don't know,“ he replies, shrugging his shoulders. "I would have thought he would have done it in the summer, after a nice day on the boat and then maybe at dinner.”

You look at him. "Maybe he wanted to combine it with something nice – and Christmas is a celebration of love.” You can't help but grin. “And he didn't have to buy her a Christmas present, just a ring.”

Your roommate laughs. “Should I do the same to you next year? Just propose to you so I don't have to get you a gift?” 

You know it's a joke, but when the words leave his mouth, you feel warm. You roll your eyes in mock annoyance. “Absolutely not.”

The Monegasque steers the car through the streets of his home country. “And how should I propose then? Do you want a trip in a hot air balloon? At Times Square, where everyone is watching? Or at a Taylor Swift concert while she sings Love Story?”

You can't suppress a giggle. ”None of that, please.”

“Then tell me.” He reaches out and grabs your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours. 

“Mmm. I've never really thought about it much. But I think I'd rather have a moment that's just for the two of us. Where no one else is watching, where we're on our own. No onlookers, no one to talk about it. Just the two of us – I think that would be perfect.”

Charles squeezes your hand twice. “Good to know.” He smiles at you briefly before looking back at the road. “By the way, I asked Pierre and Kika if they wanted to go to Lando's party with us tonight. I hope that was okay.”

“Absolutely. I feel like I haven't seen Kika in ages. But it was only – what – four days ago?” 

“I think so. They want to come around seven, so you two can get ready together and maybe have a drink.” 

Without thinking about it, you lean over and kiss his cheek. "You're the best, Charles." You can see the blush rising in his face, but you let it go uncommented.

“I know,” he says with a grin as he turns into the underground parking garage. When the car comes to a stop, you both get out and you press the elevator button while Charles takes your bags out of the trunk. 

“What are the parties like in Monaco?” you ask him as you both enter the elevator. ‘Do you have to dress particularly chic or does it depend on the club? How much money do I need to take with me? Is my ID card enough or do I need to take anything else?’ you bombard him with questions. 

Charles has to laugh. ”Haven't you ever been out partying?”

You shake your head and press the button for your floor. “Not in Monaco, no.”

The elevator doors close and you feel it transport you upwards. The Monegasque looks down at you. “The club where Lando's friend performs is chic, but not super chic. If you like –”

“Where the fuck have you been?” an angry Joris bellows at you as the elevator door opens. 

You almost have a heart attack from the shock, but Charles just looks at his best friend in confusion.

“Since when did you stop checking your cell phones? I've tried to reach you ten thousand times!” Joris's face is as red as a tomato as he snarls at you angrily and you get out of the elevator without saying a word. ”I was still asleep! And I didn't even get to eat breakfast!”

Charles puts your two bags down next to the apartment door. "And a good morning to you, Joris. How can I help you?” He walks past him, deeper into the apartment, Joris follows him, seething. You follow them in silence.

“How you can help me?” Joris asks snappishly, leaning on the kitchen worktop with his hands, before pointing at a few sheets in front of him with his index finger. “Next time you order furniture, at least be home when it's delivered, or leave your own cell phone number so they can call you if they ring the doorbell and you don't open it.” 

Charles opens his eyes wide. ”Our bed.”

Joris sneers. “This shitty bed has cost me valuable hours of sleep. And I certainly shouldn't have driven here.”

Charles can hardly keep a grin off his face as he turns around and opens the fridge. "How many bottles of wine did you drink yesterday?", he asks, placing eggs, vegetables and bacon on the counter in front of him. 

“Two.”

Your roommate gets a bowl and a pan out of a drawer before he starts to crack the eggs into them. “Did you throw up in your front yard?”

Joris rolls his eyes and watches as Charles prepares his hangover breakfast. "No.”

“Then congratulations,’ Charles grins. ”Then you had a successful Christmas.”

The omelette tastes so good that Joris's anger disappears with the first bite. He talks about Christmas dinner with his parents and his brother and the family vacation planned for next year, while he shovels the omelette into himself like a bulldozer. In between, Charles slides him coffee across the counter in a cup, but doesn't dare get closer to his hungry and hungover friend. 

“By the way, the bed is very nice,” Joris finally says, pushing the empty plate away. ‘You could have at least warned me.”

“I'm sorry,’ Charles apologizes with pursed lips. ”Are we friends again?”

Joris sighs. “Of course,” he smiles, getting up from his chair to embrace his oldest friend. They both pat each other on the back before letting go. “I have to go now. By the way, I gave the delivery man a €150 tip for kindly setting up the bed. Thank God you had some money lying around.”

Charles watches his friend go in the direction of the apartment door with confusion. “The setup was already included in the price.“

The photographer purses his lips. "At least they got a nice tip," he finally says, before leaving the apartment and leaving you two alone. 

Without saying a word, you take the dirty dishes and wash them in the sink while Charles puts your bags in the bedroom. When he returns, he stands directly behind you. You can feel the warmth of his skin through your clothes. 

“We also have a dishwasher, you know?” he whispers, laying his chin on your shoulder. His arms wrap around your middle, his chest pressing against your back. 

You nod and lean against him. “But we don't need to run the dishwasher for that,” you reply, breathing in as his hand slowly slides under your sweater. “It was very nice of you to make Joris breakfast, even though it's already afternoon.”

“Mm-hmm,” Charles hums softly. "It was the least I could do. It was really nice of him to come here to take delivery of the bed. I'd completely forgotten that I put down his cell phone number." 

“Joris is a good friend.”

“He is,” he murmurs and kisses your cheek. ‘But I prefer to have you lying in my new bed." He gently pulls you out of the kitchen towards the bedroom where the new bed is. Joris was even kind enough to make the bed; dark gray sheets are smoothly stretched over the mattress and you would love to snuggle up in them. 

“It looks incredibly cozy,“ you smile. 

“Come on.” Charles gently pushes you towards the bed. “I told you I wanted you in it.” He watches you with eagle eyes as you slowly crawl onto the bed and slip under the covers, putting your cell phone on the nightstand. As if you've been conditioned, you have to yawn. 

“The bed was definitely the right decision,” you smile and stretch your arms to fold them behind your head. "But it was definitely the wrong decision to trick me to get into it.”

“Why?’ your roommate chuckles. ”Too comfortable?”

“Definitely. I'd love to stay here forever.” You tap the empty side of the bed next to you. ”Come and try it out.”

Without wasting another moment, Charles circles the bed and lies down next to you. His arm wraps around your middle again and pulls you towards him so that your chests are touching. “I see your point. It is pretty comfortable.” His hand slides up your back under your sweater until it finds its place between your shoulder blades. 

You close your eyes and breathe out. “Do we have to go out partying tonight? I mean, can't we just order take-out and stay in?”

“Of course we could do that,” he smiles. 'But I highly doubt you want to cancel on Kika and Lando.”

You sigh. ‘We could invite everyone here," you suggest. ”The bed is big enough for all of us and –”

“Absolutely not,” he interrupts you and shakes his head vehemently. ‘The only ones allowed in this bed are already in it. Nobody else is allowed to snuggle up in the covers. Besides, I don't like the thought of you lying in a bed with Lando.”

You raise your hand and gently run your fingers through his brown curls. "Are you jealous?”

A deep growl escapes Charles' throat. “Maybe.”

You lean forward and kiss his stubbled cheek. ”You do know that Lando is the reason we're friends again, right? Because he called you when you were in Italy?”

“I am aware,“ he mumbles, pressing you closer. "Doesn't mean you have to share a bed, though.’ 

“You don't have to worry about that,” you grin. “There's only one man I want to share a bed with.” He looks at you with a raised eyebrow. “Don't worry, Charlie. You're the one I mean, of course.”

“Perfect.”

You lie in bed for a while, legs tangled and snuggled together. You gently run your fingers through his hair while his fingertips caress your back. Lying here with him feels so normal, so familiar, that you don't ever want to be in a bed without him again. 

“You still haven't answered my questions about tonight,” you say eventually, and your hand gently caresses the soft skin at the nape of his neck. 

Charles almost moans, his eyes closed. "I'll pay for you.”

“But I can pay for myself," you smile, even though he's not looking at you.

“Doesn't matter.” Your fingers pause in their movement. Charles fidgets a little, wanting for you to continue.

“You're about to fall asleep, Charlie," you giggle, but comply with his silent request. 

He moves closer to you and cuddles his face into the hollow between your jaw and your shoulder before taking a deep breath. “I'm not,” he replies softly. “But lying here with you is so comfortable.” He leisurely pulls at your sweater to reveal the skin on your neck and places feather-light kisses where your pulse is beating. Goosebumps spread across your body. 

“Charles...”

“Let's cancel on everyone,” he whispers, and his hand moves to your thigh to drape your leg over his hip so that you are literally pressed against each other, body to body. You feel his hardness against your clothed core. 

You sigh. “But you just said that we can't cancel,” you reply. “Besides, you already said yes to Lando and invited Pierre and Kika.”

“I don't care,” he breathes. “Let's be crappy friends and cancel at the last minute. I'm sure the others will understand.”

“What will they understand, hm? That the bed is so comfortable that we don't want to leave it?“ you ask him quietly. 

“That I'd rather be here in bed with you than standing in a crowded club.” His breath caresses your neck gently. “That I'd rather test out the new bed with you than yell at you over the loud music just to be able to talk to you.”

His words make your face heat up. You hope he doesn't notice. “Then we'd be very bad friends.”

“Then let's be very bad friends,” he grins against your neck before pressing a final kiss on your pulse. “We can make it up to them sometime. Just not today. Today I want you all to myself. Now that I finally have you back with me.”

You feel him press his boner against you and you absentmindedly tighten your leg around his waist. Your fingers gently press into his neck muscles and his breathy moans reach your ears. You can feel your arousal pool in your panties and you want to give in so bad. 

You want to stay home with him. In this bed. You want to repeat last night at his mom’s house, but this time the both of you would be able to show how much pleasure you give each other. You desperately want to hear him groan again, but now without the barrier of your hand on his mouth. You want to feel his cock against your pussy, sliding through your folds and gathering your juices. 

God, you want to repeat last night but without any clothes on. His cock nudging against your clit, sending jolts of electricity through your veins. His hands grabbing your ass and moving you over his length. You want to feel the the tip of his dick catching in your entrance before finally sliding in, stretching you deliciously. 

You want to fuck him so bad that it’s making you dizzy.

“What are you thinking about, mon amour?” Charles asks, pulling you out of your thoughts. 

Before you can answer him – which you don't really want to do anyway – your cell phone rings. The Monegasque reaches for it without hesitation, answers the call and puts the person on speakerphone. 

“Allo?”

“Hello, you two,“ Kika's voice sounds from your cell phone. ‘How are you? What are you doing?”

“We're testing my new bed,’ Charles replies with a grin, and you hide your face in the duvet. 

“You can't say that,” you say, reaching for your cell phone, but your roommate extends his arm so you can't get to it. 

“Why?“ Charles asks hypocritically. "It's true, isn't it?”

“Charles!”

Kika laughs loudly. "Should I call back in a minute? I don't want to disturb you guys doing whatever it is you're doing.”

“It's fine,” you call to her, although she would have understood you even if you had spoken normally. “What can I do for you?”

The Portuguese woman giggles. “I just wanted to ask what you would like to drink and what you are going to wear.”

You open your eyes wide. "Um, I have no idea. What do people wear in the clubs here?" You repeat the question you've already asked your roommate. 

“How about this?” She begins. "Pierre and I will come a little earlier and go through your closet together? The guys can play video games or something. And we'll get ready in peace and quiet."

You like her suggestion. ”That would be great.”

“Great. Pierre and I are going out for a quick shopping trip and want to buy some wine. You drink sweet, right? Then I'll bring you something.”

“Thanks!” you reply and with a big stretch you finally get to your phone in Charles's hand. "See you in a bit!" You hang up and put the phone back on the bedside table. When you turn to your friend, he's pouting. ”What's wrong?”

He turns on his back and crosses his arms over his chest, which is a little difficult considering your leg is still wrapped around his waist. “I was kind of hoping you'd cancel on them.”

A smile spreads across your face. You slide closer to him again and reach for his arms to separate them before you roll onto him. Your knees are next to his hips on the mattress and instinctively, his big hands find your ass. 

“I'm sorry, Charles,” you whisper, leaning down so that you are completely on top of him. Your elbows are next to his shoulders and your hands are finding their way into his hair again. ”We don't have to stay long.”

The Monegasque exhales. “As long as you promise me that we'll stay in bed tomorrow, that's okay with me.” When you purse your lips, he groans in annoyance and pushes his head back into the pillow. “Do I have to go to camp with Andrea tomorrow?”

You nod slightly. ”I'm afraid so.”

“That's terrible,” he complains, wrapping his arms around you. ”Then we won't see each other again until New Year's Eve! What will I do without you during that time?”

You don't want to think about spending the next few days without him, which is why you change the subject back to tonight. 

“How about this: Kika and Pierre are coming over soon and we'll party later with Lando and his DJ friend,” you begin your suggestion. 

Charles raises an eyebrow. ”I don't see any compromise I'm willing to make.”

You roll your eyes in mock exasperation. “Just let me finish. So - we're all going out to party in a bit, and when we get back home we can make ourselves comfortable in bed here, watch another movie and not get out of bed until noon tomorrow.”

“Do we have to be dressed to watch the movie?” he asks mischievously, and as you move to roll away from him, he turns you both so that he is now on top of you. He grabs your thighs and puts your legs back around his waist, and as he nestles against you, almost crushing you under his weight – which feels better than you care to admit. You feel his boner between your legs. 

“Charles,“ you moan softly as his cock softly nudges against your clothed clit. 

“Do we have to be dressed?” he repeats his question and slides his hand under your sweater, his fingers spreading over your sides. 

You breathe in his scent and bask in his warmth. “We don't have to,” you reply without giving a thought to what it means for you. But you couldn't care less about that right now. 

Charles's lips breathe light kisses on your neck. “Then it's a deal,” he whispers before withdrawing completely – leaving you high and dry. “Come on. Our friends will be here soon. And I doubt you'll want to be in our bed then. No matter how comfortable it is,“ he grins and leaves the bedroom. But as he walks through the door, you can still see him put his hand in his sweatpants to fix his erection. 

Somehow you're glad you have the same effect on him as he does on you. 

Hot blood courses through your veins when you think about how the evening will end. You would love to pull Charles back into bed, rip his clothes off and let him ravish you until you can't walk anymore. 

That will have to wait. 

But anticipation is half the fun.

[luveline]

id love to see eddie and a shy!reader at a concert. r is overwhelmed with the crowd and eddie is being his usual lovely reassuring self

love you sm!

ty for ur request! —eddie insists on taking care of you when you get overwhelmed in the middle of a concert. fem!reader, 1.3k

"This is insane, right?" Eddie asks. Or, yells. 

The ground thumps with music. The drum feels as though it's being beaten against your own chest, heat at every angle, lights flashing above and roaming downward. You blink against the purples and blues, your hand sweaty in Eddie's. 

"I'm sorry!" you shout, nodding down at your joined hands. 

Eddie tucks a limp curl behind his ear. "I'm gonna give you the sweatiest kiss anyone's ever given!" 

"Gross," you say, a half second before Eddie's pressing his lips to yours. You can feel the vibrations of the instruments through his skin. It almost tickles, but Eddie's rough touch helps. 

It's a nice kiss, but there's so much going on. The crowd swells with a unanimous cheer as one song ends and another begins. Eddie yanks himself away from you to grin at the performance, whooping as his favourite guitarist takes centre stage for an intro. You gulp in dank air, the person standing behind you treading on your shoes for the tenth time in as many minutes, the person to your right smelling of pot and beer, sticky thick. 

A firm arm curls around you. "You wanna go up on my shoulders?" Eddie asks. He must be pumping with adrenaline, his kisses quick and plentiful over your cheek as you attempt to answer. 

"As if, Eds." 

"What, you don't think I can get you up there?" 

"I know you can't." 

Eddie visibly registers your shifting mood. "Hey," he says, giving your shoulders a jog, "are you okay? You look like you're having a whitey without the smoke, babe!" 

"I'm okay, I…" You blink sweat from your eyes. "I'm really hot." 

"Take your jacket off, baby. I can hold it for you." 

You shrug out of your damp jacket but feel the same. Still, when Eddie says, "Better?" you smile and wrap your arm around his. 

"I'm good. Now shut up! This is my favourite one!" 

You're not telling the truth, but your enthusiasm fools him. Eddie slides an arm behind your back and you hug each other from the side to sing along. You like the music and you love Eddie, you're not interested in ruining the precious couple of hours you have here tonight. You can grin and bear it. You have been for a while. 

Or, you think you can, but you feel something warm on your leg, and you know it's just beer spilled from a crushed plastic cup, but your ears ache as the drum solo starts and fireworks burst at the front of the stage less than forty feet away. The crowd closes in. It's too much. 

"Eddie, I think," —he turns to look at you, eyes sparkling— "I need to go to the bathroom. Okay?" 

"I'll come with you!" 

"No! No, stay here, we'll never get this close to the front again!" 

"Are you kidding? What if something happened to you? I'd lose my mind!" Eddie nudges you toward the back of the venue. "Babe, I know the kind of creeps that hang around, I'm not letting you go by yourself!" 

You're sick of shouting at him to be heard. "No, I'll hold it!" You won't ruin his night. "I'm okay, I– I swear!"  

"Don't be stupid, let's go! It'll be nice to have a break from Doctor Marten," he says, looking quickly behind his shoulder at the perpetrator in question, the guy who keeps nipping your ankles with his thick gummy soles. 

You shake your head. Eddie shakes his head back at you incredulously, twining your fingers together as he starts to fight his way through the crowd, dragging you with him. People are ten times as likely to let you move backwards rather than toward the front, and soon the air is cooling, your skin damp and cold as the fresh breeze finally reaches you. The crowd thins. You can stretch your arms out without touching anyone for the first time in nearly an hour. 

The relief is enough to have you closing your eyes, savouring the sudden lack of input. 

Eddie pulls your hand between both of his, calluses and rings and all the things you love about him scratching your hands as he squeezes you. "Feel better?" 

You should've known he knew. Nodding sheepishly, you say, "Yeah." 

Your breathlessness must endear you to him. Eddie's on you like a rash. Your jacket slips where it's tucked under his arm, but he doesn't let go of your hand, stepping with one foot between yours, his long hair brushing your chest as he closes the space between you.

"It's a lot, I get it," he says. His voice is rough from yelling, scratchy as hewn stone. "I meant to bring you those ear plugs and I forgot. I'm sorry." 

"That's not your responsibility," you say, frowning. 

He smiles at you. "You're my girl, aren't you? I look after you 'n' I like doing it." Eddie laughs, the sort of laugh that says, I'm really happy, I love you, and it's easy. 

Or maybe you just want it to say that. Regardless, he bumps his forehead into yours and closes his eyes for a few seconds, rubbing your fingers between his mindlessly. "Take a minute. Chill. We can stay on the outskirts for the rest of the night if you need to." 

You can deal with being uncomfortable, just not to the level you had been. That was dire. This is fine. 

"Sorry for losing our spot," you say, pulling away from him. 

"Sorry for putting you in a tough one, babe. How do you feel now? Any better?" 

"Yeah, definitely." You pull your elbow up to wipe your burning cheeks. 

"Better enough for a very public and disgusting kiss?" he asks. 

"How disgusting?" you ask.

"Tongue, for sure." 

"That's not that bad." 

"Didn't say where, did I?" he asks. 

"If you lick my ear I'm gonna have to go hide in the girls bathroom," you warn, flushing at the thought of it alone.

Eddie doesn't give you the kiss he threatened you with, only throws his arms over your shoulders to cup your head, lips pressed to your temple. He rubs your shoulders, and after a moment he starts to sway you both from side to side in time with the slightly less hectic song being performed by the band. 

"Chill out," he murmurs. "I don't care where we're standing if I get to stand with you, loser." 

You hug his back. You're uncomfortably warm still, but his touch is a remedy for the general frazzle of white noise that had been fizzing between your ears. 

"Come on, let's go back," you say. The band starts on a song you know Eddie loves, you've heard it enough. 

"I wanna be like, oh, no, I can't tear myself away from you, but I really fucking love this one," Eddie says. He gives you no less than six apology kisses against the bridge of your nose before spinning on his heel to usher you back toward the crowd. Not in the throng of it, but at least you're facing the right way. "Whoo!" he yells.

"Play it louder!" you shout, knowing no one can hear your individual voice over the cacophony. "My boyfriend loves this one!" 

"I love this one!" Eddie shouts at the top of his lungs. 

Your heart lifts at his huge, beaming smile. All the sweat and noise and raw ankles are worth it just to see him this ridiculously happy. He makes it easier, checking in on you periodically for the rest of the night, and persuading you to leave a little early to escape the rush. When he swings your tired arms between your bodies and declares it the best night ever, you know you can keep on coming to gigs no matter how crazy they get. 

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

Digital Circus with a Mime Reader, who CAN speak but prefers to use sign language and gestures: they find find Kaufmo in the middle of abstracting and try to calm him down (against their better judgement). It doesn't go well, ending with them locking and closing Kaufmo's door, and running to find Caine... Only to hear the theme song suddenly stop and Jax say something about a "new character" as they approach...

Ough finally some Kaufmo angst-

........

Approaching Kaufmo's door, you stopped in front of it and politely knocked, wanting to check up on him before Caine could summon everybody to perform the Digital Circus' "theme song" musical number.

As of late, your fellow clown hasn't been feeling up to snuff, since apparently nobody was laughing at his jokes anymore...

Although said jokes have all mentioned something about an exit--a way out of the digital realm you've grown quite comfortable living in. But even when he is dead serious, the others are convinced he's only kidding around, pretending to laugh and sometimes asking him if he could joke about something else.

Least to say...it grew frustrating for him.

The only reason he hadn't totally lost it yet was because of you, a mime who has lived in the circus for the past five months and befriended him quickly. Together you've put on many acts: with his wacky props and your invisible techniques, your shows were amusing to all.

That being said, you didn't want your longtime partner to think about any exits too much, as you've lost several friends in the past when they started talking about the same thing.

It happened to Queener, Kinger's beloved wife, and the poor chess piece has been on the brink of abstraction ever since (honestly, it's a miracle he didn't immediately follow her).

Fortunately, he remained stable enough to be around everyone.

As for Kaufmo?

He didn't look so good last night at dinner, and you haven't seen him all morning. Normally he'd be up and about, juggling random things as he walked or approaching you to brainstorm new acts to perform.

Him locking himself away in his room was not normal.

Especially when he knew this musical number was super important to Caine.

After waiting a minute or two, you perked up as he finally answered the door.

At first you smiled in greeting, although that was quick to fade when he only kept it open just a crack--enough for you to barely see his face...

Which bore a terrified expression underneath his runny makeup, making his frown look worse than it actually is. His hat was nowhere to be found, either.

''Are you okay, Kaufmo?" You signed, eyebrows furrowed in worry.

That was your usual way of talking, despite knowing you could very well speak freely. You had no clue if you were proficient in sign language before entering this circus, but regardless it always came in handy, and everybody did their best to communicate with you that way (or at least those with fingers, unlike Zooble or Gangle).

Since your performances usually involved silence and expressive gestures, you didn't see a need to talk often--and that was usually fine with Kaufmo, who'd always chatter with you in sign language right back.

But when he attempted to respond, you swore you both saw his own hands glitching, before he quickly retracted them, clearly frightened.

You, on the other hand, wanted to believe it was just a "digital hallucination".

That's all it was...right?

"I-I'm sorry, [y/n]..haven't been..feeling like myself-f-f lately.." Even his own voice was betraying him, as it sounded distorted, lagging as though he was a slow computer program. "But you believe me, don't you?"

"Believe what?"

"The...the exit, of course! The thing I've been talking about this whole time!! It's real! There IS a way out!! I-I can show you!!"

You blinked, before shaking your head. "Kaufmo, let me in."

"Oh no, I think that's a bad id--wait! Wait!!" Despite his pleas for you to stop, you forced your way into his room, shutting the door behind you so nobody else could intrude or eavesdrop.

The last thing you needed was Caine listening in.

Yet after taking a look around at the state of his quarters--with everything being a complete mess and the word "EXIT" scrawled onto every square inch of the ceiling and walls--you were nothing short of terrified for his mental well-being.

'My god....what has he done..?' You thought to yourself, mortified.

"No, no, no, no!!"

Looking back at Kaufmo, you saw him back up against the wall, holding his face as black glitchy polygons started appearing on his body. He gasped in horror, looking at his hands...and then up at you.

"What's..h-happening to me-e-e?"

Your heart sunk, knowing exactly what was going on.

"You're abstracting.." You whispered, your voice small yet shaken.

"I-I didn't...think I'd be next...it hurts so much! Christ-!!!" He began crying, his makeup oozing as he stared at you with empty, soulless black eyes. One of his arms was already taken over by the glitches, morphing into a large one covered in jagged polygons.

"Make it stop..MAKE IT STOP!!!" He screamed, slumping to the floor.

You were frozen in a state of panic, unsure if you should go get Caine or stay here and try to pull him out of his abstraction.

Either way, you had to do something fast...lest you lose him forever or become infected yourself.

"Just focus on me, pal. I'm here. I'm here." Kneeling down, you grasped his non-glitching hand tightly with both of yours, attempting to guide him through a breathing exercise.

"You'll get through this." You mouthed, but he just shook his head, noticing a single glowing eye forming on the surface of the glitchy flesh.

"Wh-Whatever you do...don't tell Caine, I beg you-u.." He pleaded. "He'll lock me away...a-and I'll be all alone in the dark..I don't wanna be alone.."

Tears welled up in your eyes as you shook your head, and he gazed at you in confusion. "What do you mean "no"? You'd let him throw me into the cellar with the rest of them...?" He started to grow angrier, feeling betrayed. "I thought we were partners!"

"We are partners, Kaufmo. Always will be." You sighed, wishing there was another way to stop this from happening. "But there's nothing more I can do...he needs to know-"

"Fine...maybe things will be better if I'm not around to tell my stupid jokes anymore."

"Kaufmo-"

"Go....run, [y/n]...run-n-n-nnNNNN------"

Immediately after he said that, you let him go right as his other hand quickly became overtaken by the abstraction, almost taking you with it.

You got up and took a step backwards, watching in mute terror as he rapidly grew in size, turning into a massive amalgamation of glitch black polygons. Even more glowy-trippy eyes were popping up in different places, looking in every direction.

Within seconds, Kaufmo no longer resembled the clown you once knew (or a person, in general)....but was instead replaced by a horrific digital beast with a long neck, standing on four legs.

You gulped as every single eye on his body suddenly shifted to stare directly down at you.

'Uh-oh-'

You hastily created an invisible wall just as he lunged at you with a ferocious roar, slamming right into the illusion like a bird smacking into a glass pane.

'He still falls for the oldest trick in the book..oh Kaufmo..'

Although it pained your heart to abandon him like this, he was too far gone to be saved. He didn't even recognize you anymore.

The only thing you could do now was get Caine before he harmed you or anybody else--even if it means you never saw him again. He could very well threaten the entire stability of this world if he got loose.

You quickly ran out of the room just before he could break through the "wall" and go after you, slamming the door shut and locking it tight.

Moments later, you heard him ram into it, the hinges damn near breaking off (but by the grace of cartoon physics, that didn't happen).

You wiped the sweat from your forehead, making a mad dash out of the dormitory section of the tent in a desperate search for Caine.

Unfortunately, you could already hear Bubble's singing in the distance as the gang's musical number routine was already starting:

"Gangle, and Zooble, and Kinger, too~!"

You ran as fast as your legs could possibly carry you. They were already aware of both of your absences, and they chose to go on with the song anyways.

'Jerks..they couldn't at least wait for me?' You huffed. 'Caine never tells us when we're doing these musical ditties-'

By the time you arrived, however, you heard the music abruptly cut out.

You stopped upon seeing your friends tumbled over each other on the floor, with Gangle's comedy mask being broken and Jax picking himself up in annoyance.

"Caine, is this one of your NPCs or is this a new sucker?"

Blinking, you glanced at the new person he was referring to, surprised to see a girl dressed as a red and blue jester.

"........."

Now you couldn't say anything to Caine.

Not right now, at least.

[thithesandofferings]

Title: The Be-comings of Ardor

Summary: You win the Demon Kure Raian as a prize. Now its up to you to get you to acknowledge him.

Pairing: Raian x Reader

AN: To be very honest, I just wanted something to write. Based of the excerpt from here . I wanted to write a slow burn Raian x Reader but...i didnt know the plot so uhm...you get him as a demon... Also this fandom isnt as big so really 8 people could read it and id be fine.

Tags: Descriptions of violence. Slow...slow burn. Eventual smut. Multi-chaptered. Nothing too crazy. I havent decided if I wanted to get any crazier lol. Honestly this is just an excuse to learn how to write descriptively so please bare with me.

Part 2

Part 3

You are drenched when you are told about your prize . You don't have time to dwell on past lives sticking and caving into your skin. Becoming an uninvited home in your nails. Teeth aching from the minute grinding of bone. Gums stained sticky with blood that isn't yours. Acrid air pours through your lashes as you try to blink through the chaos staining the marrow of your skull. There is an in-depth ignorance when you stand on your enemies. Your hunger docile only by the swaths of meat you have taken. Pealing and rotting underneath your tongue. You can taste their rage and despair. It feels like condemnation.

The Kure family is filled with demons. Gifting you a malevolent spirit for your victorious slaughter is an inconsequential choice. An ancestor long since passed. Has been alive since the world had begun to form. You do not dwell much on it. Empty... Distant and unsure of who you are at the present. Wondering if the sands at your feet have packed your soul away too.

They tell you with unsteady hands and sympathetic looks that "no one has ever been able to handle him properly." Glee tugs at simpered lips when they whisper that you will surely die if you cannot handle it.

It. Primordial. Eldritch almost in nature. The demon has ruthlessly taken countless. Sharpening its tongue with hollowed bones for the sake of good weather. They produce photos of him. The clans black eyes shimmer with thoughts of humiliation and desire to ruin when they show you their past relative. He's a God in their roving eyes. To finally ascend is a gift to them. You are driven by an instinctual tug to move when you do see the creature. He was a beast even in his former life. Hulking mass with a propensity to maim and kill.

Contempt licks up the path of your skin at the thought of fearing him. You are greeted immediately with an unbecoming emotion that impales you. Greed. A snarling voice unlike your own, claws through your numbing brain. He is yours. Your honor cannot be tampered when you think about the battles you fought and won to earn him. A cruel heat scatters your skin and you think briefly that it may be possession. You shrug it off as an afterthought.

You have always known that gluttony and greed ring soundly in your blood. Now is not the time to dwell on ideas and dreams.

The grim faces of men circle you in the centerfold to perform the ritual, bringing the archaic demon. You have killed enough men to honor its terms. The air is stale with apprehension and slighted fear. You have to prove that you're worthy, even after all the lives strayed across the sand. If you are not, then your life- and the men around you, will end.

You've never been much afraid of death.

The whispers bring forth laden wind. Wet and dense, petrichor aching to dig its teeth into your skin. There is an unnatural silence once the mutters of ancient tongue cease. Crickets noises snuffed out with the unease of the earth as it waits.

Your body knows the moment he is there. The heat almost searing at the back of your neck when he stands behind you. His massive frame slicing through the permeable silence as you hear the shuffling of the men almost forgotten. Your eyes are closed and yet you can still almost taste the ephemeral life that is behind you. The age weighs heavy on your bones. Ancient. Like they said. Inhuman in a way that makes you think that your future is just to be leftovers for him. His frame claws at you. Shadows peeling across your skin, scalding and feverish, beckoning you to turn around.

You are not one to back down from a challenge.

He takes the form of a human. Flinty, barely holding his power into the meat suit he prostrates himself in. He's the biggest thing you have ever seen in your life. Muscles fight for space, veins bulge and quake proudly. His strength carries him as he strides towards you in slow, decadents steps. Hulking in mass. He is a monster. Teeth sharpened with sharpened glee. Lips spread too wide for it to be comfortable. Skin peeling on the corners, blood tunneling to the front. There is madness in the poisoned whites of his eyes. Black ink devouring you, crumbling your resolve when you look at him. They're like nothing you've ever seen before. Archaic, unnatural- predatory when he accesses you. An ancestral look you know all too well, the look of suddenly finding prey. Gravity finds a way into the black holes that suffocates his gaze. It makes your knees tremble. You are not ready to discuss why it is not fear that echoes and tracks the shivers in your hands.

He is so close that you smell him. Ashen and bloodied earth clog your senses and you have to quickly blink away the tears from the strength of it. It mellows your brain, cleaning the abject cobwebs littered across.

You're distracted enough that you cant run from the grip he has on your wrist. Pinching and crunching the already bruised flesh, you know he is assessing you. His stare burning and muted, you feel like an insect.

His manic gaze suddenly cools, air becoming increasingly stale and scarce. He lets go off your wrist, throws it more like, and begins to walk toward the people you had briefly forgotten existed.

"Raian, we are so glad that-" There is a choked and horrid crack as you hear the mans body falls listlessly to the ground.

"Shut up and find me something to eat before I decide its going to be you." There is a stalled millisecond of silence before the group shuffles away with their ancestor in front.

The one who never looks back at you again.

Your so called prize no longer even acknowledges you.

The ache of death and fear permeates your bones. Muted until now, it is time for you to go home. A small smile cracking the edge of your lips.

[t34-mt]

hi, i hope you don't mind this question, but what sport does nau'stikah exactly play?

surprised an anon knows he plays sports, i don't remember if i even mentioned it on my blog honestly? also no i don't mind character asks im just shy :>

organized combats in the style of southern momui'oma region, specifically Nuinuk colony, which is the biggest momui'oma colony and holds the biggest festivals of the region. Some would argue out of every coastal group that Nuinuk festivals are the best to attend to, a must even. The main sport nau'stikah practices are organized theatrical combats, usually taking place during the renowned festival month where they're presented several times a week, the schedule being quite tight sometimes for the actors.

although theatrical combats are held all year, but the most prized and memorable happens at this month which is momui'oma's new cycle celebration. Other combats will be held for small festivities of the colony and do not attract so many voyagers. Passing by people will be here sometimes because of Nuinuk being a big colony in general. other sports are mainly a hobby because he enjoys physical activity (and showing off but that's a detail he wont admit). One of them being wrestling which is a sport born in northern regions, believed to have been started in polar maanul groups. It was imported in Nuinuk via northern immigrants. the wrestling is different and incorporates things from the southern continent theater standards thus creating its own sub genre in momui'oma. It works quite close to staged wrestling we have!

organized combats are mainly staged, wearing gears that look closer to a festival costume but still have the required padding on the stomach area to endure talon kicks. While the talon kicks wont cut them, they still can get out of here with nasty blue marks if the combat was intense. The shows are over the top, and incorporate almost dance-like performances too. Since they happen during the theater play acting is part of the sport too. The combat recreates either folklore or mythology tales, or made up storyline between fighters! The combatants are seen as popular sports figures among colony but the favorites will hold an almost "unbeatable near living diety status. Which is what nau'stikah immigrated here to achieve, and he did! he did acquire his own unique title as many fan favorites do. His being "fire catcher".

talon kicking combat is a thing worldwide, with different rules and gear worn, and levels of dangerosity in it. For example talon kicking in plateau region inside the mountain range is quite violent. little to no gear worn, they're short, around a minute or less but quite damaging. They firstly originated from a plateau kyhuine courting practice, where "female" members would fight violently for the prettiest "male" (i put " " because the way their concept of gender works there isn't through assignment via birth sex like humans generally do) as a show off of their capabilities, and while that practice is still alive it also derived into a sport with rules. But the intensity of it is still very present.

babbling -> i still want to develop one that requires swinging (not throwing) an instrument. But at the same time, i have to make a diagram of arm movement and how far they can move them around. since their arms arent on a ball socket joint, they can't do a full circle rotation. they can move it up to a certain degree and rotating it backwards is very limited. I think id be enough for what i have in mind though. Their butterfly joint is limited but not bad though. Also if they ever had sports that require throwing it would be thrown like a frisbee, again using the butterfly joint instead.

people forget this often but humans are like little freaks that are extremely good at throwing things and other primates arent able to do it as well as us. a lot of our sports when you think about it revolves around running around and throwing things, which are the 2 things our bodies excell at. and i think its fun and cool, humans are cool in their own ways ok. anyways, for maanuls and kyhuines their sports generally will also revolve around running around, length jumps and talon kicking

[suzukiblu]

brother

"Okay," Cassie says, and the two of them head into the kitchen together. She should definitely, definitely call somebody, but she still doesn't. "So the name thing . . . do you want one that actually means something, or just one that sounds cool, or . . . ?"

"I just want one," Not-Kon/Not-Match says with a shrug, opening the fridge and peering inside. "Not gonna be picky about the details, this is more about performing emergency emotional triage and asserting an individual identity and sense of self as quickly as possible than anything else." 

"Uh," Cassie says, just staring at him for a moment. "What?" 

"I might have some superhero-grade therapy technique uploads in my head," Not-Kon/Not-Match admits, pointing at his temple for a moment. "Which is probably a point for somebody not Tim making me, because I cannot imagine that dude's ever spoken to a single fucking therapist who wasn't either from Arkham or the victim of a crime. There's soba noodles and shrimp in here, how's that sound? Oh, and edamame." 

"I'm down with that," Cassie says. "Do you want any help?" 

"Do you know how to cook soba noodles?" he asks. "Or edamame?" 

"Honestly I didn't know you had to cook edamame at all," Cassie says. 

"Raw soy protein is poisonous," he says. 

". . . so yeah I'll just do the dishes when you're done, how's that," Cassie offers sheepishly. 

"Solid plan," he says, then points at the kitchen island. Cassie sits down on one of the barstools in front of it and pulls out her phone to start browsing, like, baby names sites or something. 

"All the really good names I know are Greek," she says. "Don't know any available Kryptonian ones, like I said. I thiiiiink Lex Luthor might be German but don't quote me on that and really, fuck that guy anyway."

"Yeah, I don't want anything to do with him," Not-Kon/Not-Match agrees, pulling a package of noodles and some weirdly random-seeming vegetables out of the fridge. "He already messed with and mind-controlled Kon, fuck if I wanna find out what he'd try and do to me." 

"'Conner' is an Irish name, apparently?" Cassie suggests as she skims search results, frowning consideringly at her phone. "As far as I know Kon only went by it because it sounds kinda like 'Kon-El' but I guess it's still an option." 

"Hm," Not-Kon/Not-Match says, frowning too. "Well, that's as good a place to start as any. Although you really don't have to think about it this hard, I really did mean it when I said I wasn't gonna be picky about this." 

"You're four hours old and your entire existence is a massive ethics violation," Cassie says, glancing up at him again. He's busy reading the back of the soba noodles' packaging, but still clearly listening to her. Hopefully that's a good sign, that he's been listening to her. "I am definitely gonna think about it this hard. Or do you want, like . . . a Tim-adjacent name, maybe? If he made you?"

"I don't know," Not-Kon/Not-Match says. "Him making me is still just my best guess and it might not be great for his secret ID either. Also I don't know if I hate him for making me yet or not, so I don't know if I want anything to do with him either." 

"Point," Cassie says, frowning again and trying another site. That . . . might be a problem, yeah. If Tim actually is currently messed up enough to deliberately make a whole entire person and also try to make that person Kon . . . 

Well, he's probably not gonna react well to said person not being Kon, for starters. Especially if said person also wants nothing to do with him. 

Gods, yeah, there's a horrible thought. 

Please just don't let this lead to Gun Batman, Cassie prays to herself. Please don't let that be where this situation is heading. 

"Hmmm," she says. "Well, either way Kon's still like, your brother, right? So it'd make sense to give you a name related to one of his."

"I don't really know," Not-Kon/Not-Match says thoughtfully as he sets up a pot of water on the stove and starts sorting through the vegetables on the counter to line them up next to the cutting board. "Although I guess he might've thought so? Apparently he called Match his brother when they first met. And, you know, I have a functioning concept of free will and I don't have any particular desire to murder him or his friends, so he probably would've liked me better than he liked Match. Then again, Kon's also already dead, so maybe I'd feel differently about the murder thing if he weren't? But if he weren't dead I wouldn't exist anyway, so . . . catch-22, maybe?" 

Cassie, again, is reminded that Not-Kon/Not-Match is still running the numbers on the supervillain thing. So . . . yeah. That is very much a thing, still. 

"Please tell me that your mental uploads told you that murder is bad," she says, eyeing him warily again. If they didn't, she and Tim are going to be having an even longer long talk than the one she's already planning. 

"They did," Not-Kon/Not-Match confirms. "They also told me that I was Kon, though, so I'm currently taking all their provided information with a grain of salt." 

Fuck everything, Cassie thinks with far too much feeling.

[dauntlessdiva]

There's A Band At The Bar (That I'm Dying To See)

For @steddieholidaydrabbles warm up prompt: high school/college au

Rating: T

Word count: 963

Characters: Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson, Corroded Coffin (mentioned), Hellfire Club (mentioned)

Cw: Implied/Rferenced Underage Drinking

Tags: High School au, Self-Appointed Designated Driver Steve Harrington, Joyriding, Queer Steve Harrington, Queer Eddie Munson, Miscommunication, First Kiss, Getting Together, Temporary Amnesia.

~♡~

It took him upwards of an hour, but Steve finally tracked Munson down in the alley outside of The Hideout. Checking his watch, he cursed at how close he was cutting it.

"C'mon, Munson, do you have the goods or not? I don't have all night!"

"Hold your horses there big boy, I've got it right here. What's the rush anyways, you got a hot date or something?" Eddie knew poking the bear was a bad idea, especially when said bear was the king of the school, but if Eddie was known for one thing it was his love for bad ideas.

"Not that it's any of your business," Steve huffed, lighting the smoke he'd pulled from his back pocket while Eddie had been taunting him, "but I've got my eye on someone in the band."

Eddie smirked at that, shaking his head in faux disappointment. "For shame, Harrington! Leave some for the rest of us, will you?"

Steve smiled around his cigarette. "Nah," he eyed Eddie up and down, "I don't think I will."

Ducking his head to try and hide his flushed face, Eddie groused, "Do you want the fake or not man, I thought you were on a time crunch?"

"I am," Steve replied flippantly, "though it won't be the end of the world if plan A doesn't work out." He added, pulling a set of keys from his pocket. Keys that obviously belonged to the most expensive car in all of Hawkins, Richard Harrington's 1957 Cadillac Coupe Deville.

The wolf whistle Eddie let out caught Steve off guard, but thankfully not enough for him to lose his composure. He stomped out the butt of his smoke as he pocketed the keys once more.

"So, what d'ya say Munson. I've got the agreed cash on me for the fake, but if that's not enough we could take this baby," his hand shifted in his pocket and the metal flashed as it caught the dim light overhead, "out for a spin later?"

Eddie had to shake his head and clear his throat a few times before he could respond, but when he finally felt like his brain could function properly, he gave an enthusiastic yes and handed over Steve's shiny new fake ID.

He'd done his best to make it as accurate as possible, even taking the extra time to get information from Harrington's drivers licence to get the height and birthday as accurate as possible. It was some of his best work, if he does say so himself.

As Steve started jogging away, Eddie called out a 'good luck' in farewell before disappearing through the back entry of The Hideout to do any last minute tweaks to his look before his performance.

Friday night was a blur of booze and music- playing, flirting, and laughing the night away- but Eddie was certain it was the best he'd ever performed. However, he couldn't remember a lot of the details after said performance.

He knew there was a cute guy who couldn't take his eyes off Eddie the whole night, and he vaguely recalled a joyride in an insanely expensive and ridiculously fancy car, but that's about it.

So imagine his surprise when Monday rolled around and he found himself in the company of King Steve himself, willingly sitting with the freaks and geeks of Hawkins High as though it was the norm, despite the bewildered looks Tommy and Carol kept throwing his way from their Royal lunch table amongst the rest of the nobility.

Even queerer, Steve was not only being simply civil but downright nice! Kind, even! He laughed at Eddie's jokes, even the ones that Hellfire didn't find funny. He paid attention to the conversation and asked thoughtful and in depth questions about even the nerdiest of their interests.

Eddie spends the rest of the school day, and each one after that week, feeling like he'd stepped into the twilight zone.

By Friday, his curiosity finally won out. Eddie wanted answers, dammit! And he was gonna get them!

So when lunch rolled around that day, he asked to speak to Steve in private, and dragged him out to the picnic bench in the woods. Eddie attempted to interrogate him, and Steve just restated that he was interested in someone at their table.

When Eddie didn't seem to get it, Steve started to describe this mystery person of his. They were loud and passionate and brave and nerdy. They liked metal and Dnd. They had the cutest dimples and this laugh that rung through any room as clear as a bell no matter how crowded. They were in a band. They were in Eddie's band.

If Eddie didn't know better, he'd think Steve was describing him, but- oh holy shit.

Suddenly last Friday seemed to come into focus for the first time in Eddie's mind. Steve, crowding himself up against the front of the stage, watching Corroded Coffin with rapt attention. Steve, congratulating the band on a stellar performance. Steve, chatting and laughing and flirting with Eddie. Steve, taking Eddie out for a joyride in his Daddy's car. Steve, driving Eddie home. Steve leaning over to kiss him on the cheek before letting him climb out. Steve, waiting until he knew Eddie had made it into the trailer safe and sound before leaving.

"Oh holy shit."

"Yeah," Steve said, nervously rubbing the back of his neck.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Eddie breathed in awe.

Steve, despite having prepared several speeches with lengthy explanations, simply shrugs and goes with, "You didn't bring it up, and I didn't wanna push."

Eddie couldn't help that he melted just a little bit at that. But who wouldn't? So he did what any logical person would.

He pulled Steve forward and kissed him silly.

[disneyanddisneyships]

@gyubby99 okay I'd like to apologize in advance.

"Oh my dear I cannot wait to see you perform again!" Alastor exclaimed as he and Aponi walked around the room, trying to get ready.

"Yeah? Id be prepared. It's a long song. Might bore you to death," Aponi teased.

"Oh my dear, on the contrary! Your voice is the highlight of my death!" He stated. "What did you say the song was from?" He asked.

"A musical. One of my favorites. It's about British history. Very interesting. I'll make you watch it one day," Aponi stated as she got her hoop earrings in and adjusted her high ponytail.

"Qh I see. As long as it makes you happy. Do I get a sneak peak at your clothes?" Alastor asked.

"Nope! Now come on I wouldn't wanna be late," Aponi stated before all but dragging the radio demon out of the apartment.

When the two got there, aponi had to immediately get onto the stage, all of her friends were already reciting their lines.

Alastor sat next to Aponi's froend, Carolyn.

"Good luck trying to compete with us! Honey!" One performer stated before all of them struck a pose.

"You're right.... You're right!" Aponi began. "Your lives sounded terrible! And your songs... really helped to convey that!" She insulted.

The crowd laughed.

"I mean Catherine! Almost moving to a nunnery and then not? That almost could've been really hard for you!" She exclaimed.

The woman playing Catherine scowled, trying not to laugh.

"And Anne! Getting your head chopped off! Surely that means you'll win the competi- oh wait. Divorced beheaded died divorced beheaded- oooh... nevermind!" She walked over to another performer.

Alastor smirked.

"And Jane. Dying of natural causes.... WHEN WILL JUSTICE BE SERVED?!" She yelled.

The crowd laughed.

"And surviving," she walked over to one of the performers only to walk away to the next one. "Seriously Anna. All jokes aside, getting rejected by your looks legit sounds really rough," she stated.

"I wouldn't tknow anything about that,"

The crowd laughed again, as did alastor.

"I mean look at me I'm really hot-" she trailed off. "So yeah I can't even begin to think of how I'll compete with you all! Oh wait! Like this!" She stated as the music started and the lights flickered to the beat.

All you wanna do All you wanna do, baby I think we can all agree I'm a ten amongst these threes

She sang before walking round the stage.

All you wanna do All you wanna do, baby And ever since I was a child, I'd make the boys go wild

The crowd laughed as she made a gesture with her gand signaling "crazy".

All you wanna do All you wanna do, baby Take my first music teacher, Henry Mannox I was young it's true but even then I knew The only thing you wanna to do is...

She blew a kiss.

Broad, dark, sexy Mannox Taught me all about dynamics He was 23 And I was 13 going on 30 We'd spend hours strumming the lute Striking the chords and blowing the flute He plucked my strings all the way to G Went from major to minor, C to D

She danced to the beat as she sang, seemingly having fun with the song.

Tell me what you need What you want, you don't need to plead 'Cause I feel the chemistry Like I get you and you get me

Alastor smiled at his girlfriend as she sang. This would always be the highlight of his death.

And maybe this is it He just cares so much, it feels legit We have a connection I think this guy is different

Aponi acted with the lyrics. Actually seeming like a high school girl in love with the wrong man.

Mabe that's because that was her story.

'Cause all you wanna do All you wanna do, baby Is touch me, love me, can't get enough, see All you wanna do All you wanna do, baby Is please me, squeeze me, birds and the bees me Run your fingers through my hair Tell me, I'm the fairest of the fair Playtime's over The only thing you wanna do is...

She blew a kiss again, smiling.

But then there was another guy Francis Dereham

She moved to the beat before holding the microphone up again.

Serious, stern and slow Gets what he wants, and he won't take no Passion in all that he touches The sexy secretary to the Dowager Duchess

Alastor couldn't help but be a bit jealous at the choice of words. He's never seen her be so open about sexual acts.

Helped him in his office, had a duty to fulfil He even let me use his favourite quill Spilled ink all over the parchment, my wrist was so tired Still I came back the next day as he required

Alastor choked on air as he understood the lyrics.

This was not a normal song that Aponi would sing... was it?

You say I'm what you need All you want, you don't need to plead 'Cause I feel the chemistry Like I get you and you get me

Aponi sang once again with that schoolgirl innocence. Alastor had no idea how she acted it out so well.

And I know this is it He just cares so much, this one's legit We have a real connection I'm sure this time is different

Then he remembered.

It's not acting. It's reminiscing.

'Cause all you wanna do All you wanna do, baby Is touch me, love me, can't get enough see All you wanna do All you wanna do, baby Is please me, squeeze me, birds and the bees me You can't wait a second more to get My corset on the floor Playtime's over The only thing you wanna do is...

Another kis was blown before aponi cleared her throat and took a small sip of water.

Yeah, that didn't work out

She stated, a tint of humor and sadness in her voice as the crowd laughed.

So I decided to have a break from boys And you'll never guess who I met

The music went again.

Tall, large, Henry the Eighth Supreme head of the Church of England

Silence.

Then laughter.

And then she sang again.

Globally revered Although you wouldn't know it from the look of that beard Made me a lady in waiting Hurled me and my family up in the world Gave me duties in court and he swears it's true That without me, he doesn't know what he'd do

Aponi smiled a bit sadly.

You say I'm what you need All you want, we both agree This is the place for me I'm finally where I'm meant to be

Aponi acted content.

As if she really lived Katherine Howard's life.

Then he starts saying all this stuff He cares so much, he calls me love

Her voice cracked.

Alastor heard it.

She really wasn't acting was she??

He says we have this connection I guess it's not so different

She belted the last note, a small frown forming on her face before a smile took over.

'Cause all you wanna do All you wanna do, baby Is touch me, love me, can't get enough, see All you wanna do All you wanna do, baby Is seize me, squeeze me, birds and the bees me There's no time for when or how 'cause you Just got to have me now Playtime's over The only thing you wanna do is...

She blew yet another kiss.

Then silence, aside from the music.

So we got married Woo

The crowd laughed. Alastor didn't. He had seen the promise rings.

Hell, he had helped sell them.

With Henry, it isn't easy His temper's short, and his mates are sleazy

Now this..... this was from the heart. those two lines right there.

Except for this one courtier He's a really nice guy, just so sincere The royal life isn't what I planned But Thomas is there to lend a helping hand So sweet, makes sure that I'm okay And we hang out loads when the King's away

Aponi gave a weak smile at the memories clearly flooding her mind.

All alastor wanted to do was remove her from the environment.

But he was also entertained. Was she acting? Or were her emotions real?

This guy finally Is what I want, the friend I need Just friends, no chemistry I get him and he gets me

Her facial expressions couldn't have simply been actingm alastor was sure of it.

Andbyet.. she kept on with the song.

And there's nothing more to it He just cares so much, he's devoted He says we have a connection

The sadness on her face spoke more words than she could ever sing.

Her emotions were real.

I thought this time was different

She sang quietly...

Why did I think he'd be different?

She sang louder....

But it's never, ever different

Her voice cracked. Alastor could practically see the tears in her eyes.

'Cause all you wanna do All you wanna do, baby Is touch me, when will enough be enough? See

All the dancers around her put hands on her, signifying the hands that would've been on her in real life.

She shook uncomfortably as she sang.

All you wanna do All you wanna do, baby Squeeze me, don't care if you don't please me

Her voice cracked again and alastor almost broke. he could feel her raw pain. He had felt it more than once in person.

The audience felt it as well.

There were no more laughs. No more claps. The audience was silent and maybe a bit uncomfortable at the raw pain being sung on stage.

Bite my lip and pull my hair As you tell me, I'm the fairest of the fair Playtime's over Playtime's over Playtime's over

As she belted the last not tears spilled from her eyes in a sea of sadness.

The only thing The only thing The only thing you wanna do is...

She blew another kiss but this time she gasped as if gasping for air.

The lights went out.

The audience hesitated before clapoing, confused on if that was real, or just amazing acting from their friend.

An hour or so later Aponi and Alastor walked back to the hotel together.

"Are you alright, my dear?" Alastor asked.

"Yes... just tired," a quiet aponi stated.

Silence.

When the two got back to the hotel Aponi went right up to her room.

Alastor stayed downstairs thinking about what to do.

[sunsoakedhighhopes]

Amazing Spider-Man 01

Okay, so after his introduction in Amazing Fantasy, there was enough of a response, so he got his own comic run. The first issue contained two stories. They call the second story a "bonus" story, but really it's just a continuation of the story, but maybe they meant it was a double issue or something.

I was kind of surprised they moved right into the Spider-Man being a menace storyline, but that's pretty much the plotline of this first half -- the introduction of J Jonah Jameson, and him turning public opinion against Spider-Man.

We begin with a short recap of Peter's introduction in Amazing Fantasy. Then we find out that with Uncle Ben now dead, the Parkers are having money troubles. The landlord comes knocking on the door and Aunt May begs him to give them another week to pay the rent. Peter offers to get a job, but May won't let him because she wants him to focus on his studies. Peter briefly considers using his powers to resort to a life of crime, but quickly decides against it, noting that it would break May's heart if he ever got arrested.

Instead of robbing banks, Peter decides to go back to performing his powers on TV (and in front of a live audience). Then we get the following amazing interaction.

The producer goes to pay Peter, but he has to pay him with a check so there's a tax record (I don't think this is true - I think the bigger issue is Peter's lack of a social security number but alright...) So, he asks Peter for his name. Peter obviously can't give his real name if he's going to maintain his secret identity as Spider-Man, so he instructs the man to fill the check out to "Spider-Man". The producer agrees, for some reason, though he does note that Peter will likely have a hard time cashing the check. Peter, in his infinite teenaged wisdom is like, "Nah, I'm good."

And then he gets to the bank....

I love how the bank teller is willing to accept an ID that says "Spiderman" like this is a totally normal thing.

To make matters even worse, Jameson is busy at that very moment typing up an article about Spiderman, with the express purpose of trying to run him out of town.

Which.... Why?? Like, he literally hasn't done anything yet, except for crawling around on ceilings and swinging from webs on TV. Why is Jameson so pressed?

Peter shows up at the TV station again -- even though he still hasn't figured out the check issue -- only to find out he's been cancelled, both professionally and culturally.

I'm with Peter on this one. Does J. Jonah Jameson just hate fun??

Next we get a clip of Jameson on TV, where, okay, so his issue is the robber/murderer (the one who killed Ben) that Peter caught and turned over to the police in his origin story. "We cannot allow that masked menace to take the law into his own hands," which is kind of a gross exaggeration of what happened, but okay. I mean, the cops were already after the guy, and technically he only did the exact thing the cop asked him to do the first time. He also, apparently, has a "Think of the Children!" complaint that kids might try to imitate his "fantastic feats" that they watch him do on TV, which.... Jameson, you are going to struggle with the future cause there's gonna be a lot of this kind of stuff on TV and in movies.

Oh, but then he says the children should be looking up to real heroes, like his son, John Jameson, the test pilot/astronaut who's about to go into orbit around the earth, and now that I think about it, I'm pretty sure this character was in the first Sam Raimi movie? As MJ's boyfriend?? I keep trying to picture it, but all my mind will conjure up is Paul Rudd dressed in his astronaut costume from the ball scene in Romeo + Juliet. So, that's what I'm picturing when I read this comic. Anyway, Jameson is just one of those overbearing helicopter parents that thinks their child is the most specialist special that ever specialed, is what I'm trying to say here.

Peter wonders why The Fantastic Four and Ant-Man aren't having these kinds of troubles, and hey, today I learned, Ant-Man predates Spider-Man.

Peter tries to get a job, presumably behind Aunt May's back, but no one wants to hire a high school kid. While he's out, he sees May going into a pawn shop where she pawns her jewelry in order to make rent, so he has a mild temper tantrum, where it seems like he's considering that life of crime idea again.

He doesn't get the chance though, because John Jameson launches into orbit, and unfortunately for him, the forward guidance package breaks loose from the capsule that he's in, and the capsule begins erratically falling back to Earth. NASA maybe, and idk, the military -- a bunch of important men standing around in suits are all like "Oooh... yeah, no this is really not good. Too bad there's nothing we can do about it." They have a replacement unit, but no way to give it to him as he hurtles back to earth.

That's okay, because Peter, as Spider-Man, is here to save the day. Jameson is charming as ever in his gratitude that someone is trying to save his son's life. Oh, wait, no he's not.

Spider-Man heads for an airfield, where he commandeers and airplane. Then he leaps from the flying airplane onto the falling capsule and replaces the guidance unit, allowing the capsule to land safely.

Oh, Peter, that is... that is adorably naive of you.

Jameson is successful in getting everyone to hate Spider-Man (including Aunt May!) and eventually the FBI caves to public pressure and puts out a wanted poster.

I actually love that they think the average person would know where to find the "nearest FBI Office".

I feel like there's a social statement being made here....

[funsize-cenobites]

You know I really don't think Jon Erler gets enough praise for just how fantastic his voice acting for North Dakota was. Especially in his first appearance in s9 on the oil platform.

Rewatching it was a treat. All his lines sound really nice and natural. He has the Big Brother affect down pat too. With the subtle but familiar annoyance in his tone: "South, I do not have visual in there."

Exactly the tone of a tired older brother talking to a little shit sibling knowing they're Doing It Wrong. So good.

Hes so casual about it too. Maybe its just because Id only ever heard him in a normal comedy performance setting but he really came out swinging with North as a performance imo.

[calamitys-child]

*raises tea mug at u* ok Aidan tell us the tale of the pettiest thing you've ever done (that's you're willing to share on tungle.hell, ofc)

Oooooooooooooh good QUESTION omg. I actually don't have a ton I think are worth sharing? Growing up, despite being not infrequently bullied or faced with unfair situations, including by teachers, I tended not to have big fights with folk in interesting ways. Now as an adult I simply try not to be petty I think you should either commit to Negotiating or Mean. That said! I am a little cunt who does not want to deal with bullshit so sometimes petty bitching is the shortest route to a resolution, yken?

I have a couple that stick in my head but the funniest one is probably one that happened when I was a wean, like 9-10 years old.

When I was in primary school my year was split across 2 classes, and we swapped between classes so we could split groups like maths and English into groups based on what level they're studying at. In p7 (oldest primary school age, approx age 10) the Other class was run by a guy called Mr C who FUCKING SUCKED. FUCK that guy. The absolute epitome of "cringe of you, an adult, to have beef with a 9 year old". But unfortunately, I was put in his group a Lot.

He once yanked my chair out from under me so I fell over for no fucking reason. He once yelled at me for knowing the difference between a summary and a synopsis. He sent me to the head teacher's office for being at a dentist appointment which he was informed of a week in advance. He forced me to go out publicly and perform in a dress despite me begging for any other role or costume. I got thrown down two flights of stairs by a bully and he yelled at me for damaging school property because i was holding a laptop (the laptop was fine, i limped for a week). He had an affair with another teacher at the school which was a VERY POORLY KEPT secret and BOTH OF THEM had kids at the school and I take some comfort still in knowing their whole family are never going to live any of that down and everyone knows how embarrassing they are. He's a prick who thinks he's better than everyone and he sucks.

Growing up, my dad worked multiple jobs to keep money coming in. One job was bar manager at a fairly well known local theatre, another was like. Keeping practice areas clear and well maintained and helping out in training exercises for a local sports arena. He worked really hard, I basically never saw him in summer cause he took so much holiday overtime to keep money coming in. We were comfortable enough, but never more than securely working class, we never took holidays or anything.

When my school year wanted to put on our p7 play, we took sponsorships from local businesses to help fund props, script licensing, etc. My dad offered a raffle prize - two ticket vouchers from his theatre job. Mr C did not believe these were from his job, but had to accept it eventually.

A couple weeks later I was talking to my friend as we came back inside from break about something that happened at my dad's sports arena job the day before. Mr C overheard and, like any adult who is secure in themself (deeply sarcastic), dragged me up in front of the class to yell at me for lying. I distinctly remember something like "next you'll be trying to tell people your dad owns Nintendo and plays fitba for Scotland. You're not special. Grow up". Reduced me to tears to make himself feel better for no reason.

Parents evening was the next week. My dad and I schemed together a bit and he showed up in full sports arena uniform with name tag, wearing his theatre keys and ID badge around his neck. He wore that again to our show performance. And my graduation.

Technically my dad's pettiness at least as much as mine, but it sticks in my mind as the first time I ever got so mad at someone and decided to stick up for myself in a way other than just punching the cunt in the face in righteous 8yo fury

[elizmanderson]

15 questions tag

thanks for the tag, @rachaellawrites!

1. Are you named after anyone?

I'm named after my great-grandma who lived to be a hundred

2. When was the last time you cried?

oops before pole on monday for unclear reasons (but then I had class and that knocked me out of my funk for a bit)

3. Do you have kids?

nope but sometimes I say "my kids" but by that I mean my students or former students

4. Do you use sarcasm?

when the occasion calls for it

5. What's the first thing you notice about people?

it depends on the person

most recently the first thing I noticed about a person was his whistle

6. What's your eye colour?

hazel but one eye is more hazel than the other. like one is kinda brown but one is kinda green

7. Scary movies or happy endings?

HAPPY ENDINGS

8. Any special talents?

I'm. never sure. what qualifies as special. I can sing? I can paint? I make a mean collage? I can bake, sort of? I can ID various birds by sight or call and am also working on IDing wildflowers? I'm good at gaining the trust of skittish animals? idk, what do you consider "special"

9. Where were you born?

planet earth, as far as I know

10. What are your hobbies?

...there is no hobby, there is only writing

jk

sort of

I mean I do actually eat sleep and breathe writing, but. I also love fucking off into the woods for a long walk that will undoubtedly go slow as I stop to ID birds and plants. I sometimes work on visual arts. I read (although that's so closely tied to writing that it's almost part of work? but not. but also yes).

I don't consider singing a hobby because I just kinda. do it. all the time. like breathing. if I'm working I have music playing and I'm singing. if I'm driving I have music playing and I'm singing. it's just a thing I do.

do I count pole and yoga?? like no I'm. working out so I can be strong and fit, not,,,doing a hobby, but also I do enjoy them? wow do I even know what a hobby is

11. Have you any pets?

currently I have a cat and four chickens

12. What sports do you play/have you played?

I am not a sporty person but I'm currently in a pole fitness class so we're counting that even though I'm not really doing it for performance or competition

I did archery in 4H for years and still occasionally get to do it

I also did basketball and track for years but I actually suck at both of them lmao

13. How tall are you?

shorter than you think, probably

14. Favourite subject in school?

English and art which is probably obvious, and also at community college it was botany and zoology

15. Dream job?

author, obvi, but like author where I'm making enough off backlist royalties that I can write at my leisure without worrying about the bills, which is basically the most unrealistic thing ever but whatever it's the dream

no pressure tag: @victoriacbooks

[yugotrash]

but really tho idk if it's a terminally online disorder but this weird position of reading and agreeing with so much of radfem theory but being a guy so thats not my community but also not belonging to even that tiny group known as "tehms" for a variety of reasons really alienates me lol.

No, it's not a terminally online disorder. Most humans need a sense of belonging to a group or community. This is straight up monkey brain feeling and it's completely understandable. I'm a het woman who wants a partner so i have no cards in radical feminism myself at least not entirely but I'm also not performing enough feminist acts to consider myself even just a feminist. Agreeing with the ideas and ideals of a group you can truly belong to does such and alienates.

i can predict the answer is "just dont seek community based on your politics/homosexuality" and id like that but that assumes that those things wont be an issue for any random group of people. and being a homosexual and agreeing with radfem ideas does shape the way i think the opinions i express a lot its not like i can hide either of those without a good measure of discomfort for very long. i have radfem friends of course but the sex distinction is understandably something that will permanently divide us and the gays tend to be retarded cumbrained or womanhating or all three so thats not gonna be "my people" either.

Yeah, sometimes it is impossibly to find a whole, ready-made group, but, and i know I'm the last one to preach as i don't practice it, you can try and start such a group, irl or online. It's gonna be difficult but I'm sure there are some other men here, maybe not necessarily homosexual, who might share the radical feminist views you have. It's not perfect, but at least they're not cumbrained, which is a low bar but it's more than nothing. And it doesn't require you to hide your homosexuality or how it affects you as homosexual because these guys are also empathetic towards lesbians. Again, not perfect, but a step in the right direction.

I know for a fact there are some "tehms" on this site who do not abide by the chronic brainrot others demonstrate. They're focused more on women's rights and while yeah, they will sometimes talk about how some guy is hot, or how trans-identified women and girls are awfully rape-y, they still put the risks to women higher up on the list, or, more precisely, women's rights before their own comfort, which i find to be charming and considerate.

maybe one or two guys out there but who knows where and who. and its not so easy to complete forswear the idea of finding friends or even god forbid a partner to relate to,,

Yes, there won't be many of them, and it will not ever form a large community (mostly became most men do not find anything worthwhile in feminist critique, and many men, gay or straight or bi, are just constantly thinking with their dicks, but, and i can't believe I'm gonna say these words, Not All Men. You're special, but you're not THAT special that there is only one edition of a person with such views and circumstances as yours. And that's perfectly okay, you are special in other ways. But the thing is, there surely are like-minded people, either online or offline, and I'm sure you can either find them or even reform some existing ones, to agree with you more, and maybe even find love.

~·~·~·~·~·~·~·~·~·~·~·~·~·~·~·~·~·~·~

Sorry for the long ask, i hope your birthday went well and that you had fun. Happy belated birthday and may you manage to find a sense of community and shared sentiments both irl and online as soon as possible 🩵

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I'd reach out to you non anonymously but granted i do want to keep my main blog a secret and do not want to be seen as a pick-me or something.

thank you so very much for such a thoughtful message, i do feel much better about the whole thing now. it's good to be reminded that one is not really that special <3

[shrimpnim]

i am currently in the second year of college! i was reading back on post i had senior year of high school and it was so lovely seeing how my life did a 180 since then :) i really enjoyed my freshman year of college it was the exact fresh start i had been looking for. i met some amazing people (i still don't know what i did to deserve some of these people). i also feel like it was my redemption arc academically because i was able to bounce back and perform very well last year. i think coming into my second year i had really high expectations and it almost feels like i peaked last year because of how amazing it felt but now it also feels like nothing will ever top that if that makes any sense. i keep getting sad that this year is very different from last year which is what made my transition (september) into this school year very hellish. i was pretty sad for a majority of it and wasn't taking care of myself enough. i think im finally in a place where im at peace and am starting to accept this semester for what it is. life felt like it was falling apart at first but right now things feels good. a problem ive always had was that id find ways to self sabotage when things in life were good and i would never allow myself to truly experience joy out of fear (impending doom lol). but im finally learning how to allow myself to feel happy during the good days i DO HAVE because it is unfair to myself if i ruin it by worrying about the bad days that are to come in the future because those are a problem for future me to worry about, not current me.