#i guess i get the disco intention

[thissmycomingofage]

Conan, my pal, please, why are those songs all so short, why?? What's the project?? I don't have the time to cry nor dance, wtf??

[denaliwrites]

Dance on a Tightrope of Weird

Crowley x GN!Reader

Summary: Crowley was not expecting you to lose your shit when he asked what you were reading.

Soundtrack: Crazy = Genius by Panic! at the Disco

Requests: Open!

Warnings: The ravings of a madwoman. (It's me, I'm the madwoman.)

It wasn't unusual for Crowley to find you tucked away somewhere in the bookshop reading one of the countless old books Aziraphale kept around. You liked classic literature, and history, and philosophy, and who knew whatever other subjects you happened to find lying around the place.

What was unusual, however, was finding you sat in his usual armchair, reading what was decidedly not a two-hundred-year-old first-edition copy of the random novel you'd decided to bury yourself in that day.

He paused in front of you, carefully tilting the book you held up so that he could look at the cover.

"Dead Mountain?" he asked, an eyebrow cocked so high you could see it over the rim of his sunglasses.

"No, no," you said, a fire immediately lighting in your eyes. "No. Don't even get me started. This is fucking insane."

Crowley never was one to listen to your advice. "Oh?" he prompted casually, and suddenly a chair appeared behind him that he, without looking, flopped down into and sprawled across.

"No, because--"

He loved watching you read. The quiet intent, the way your face moved in tandem with whatever emotions the text wanted you to feel. He'd once walked in on you sobbing along with some tearjerking novel (as a side note, that was the first time Crowley had found himself wanting to kill a book?), and another time he'd walked in on you cheering over something... triumphant, he assumed, or at least something like that.

This was different. New.

He loved it too. The fevered look in your eyes, the frustrated set of your jaw. The way your hand, shaped like a predator's claws, gripped his knee tightly in excitement.

"This is--" you were saying, and Crowley startled back into the moment, eyes on you, attention now unwaveringly on your blazing gaze. "This is so fucking insane. I can't get over this."

"Over what, darling?" he asked, and your gaze sharpened on him, as if only just realizing he was there.

"Do you know about the Dyatlov Pass Incident?"

It sounded familiar. "Tell me all about it, darling."

"Oh, you're gonna regret that."

He wouldn't. Not ever.

"Okay, so -- Soviet Russia. 1959. Middle of winter. These nine hikers -- actually, it was originally ten. These ten experienced hikers go into the Ural Mountains to, like. Upgrade themselves? 'Cause I guess there are levels to being a hiker, and you have to go on increasingly more difficult hikes to level up. So all ten were level two or whatever, and they were going on a level three hike to upgrade to level three."

He nodded, even though all the information was secondary in his attention. He just liked listening to you.

"Okay. So they get to this little town, and while they're there, all the locals are telling them shit like, 'Don't go up that mountain,' or 'you'll die up there!' Like, horror movie type shit. The kind of stuff that makes you yell at the TV."

He was familiar with that. You did that a lot -- but so did he.

"Oh, and the mountain they were hiking on? In the local language it's called Kholat Syakhl. Do you know what that means?"

He... he did. He knew what everything in every language meant. But he let you have this, because you were clearly excited. Seeing the way you motioned with the book, he waved toward it and asked, "Dead mountain?"

"Fucking -- dead mountain!"

He chuckled, but otherwise stayed silent.

"So they're getting all these crazy warnings and the mountain is literally called Dead Mountain in the local language, but they decide to go anyway! So they go off, but before they get very far, one of them is like, 'I'm so sick, I can't go on!' and so he tells them he's gonna go back to the town, and they leave without him."

"I take it he's the only survivor?"

You nodded. "Yeah. The other nine kept going. Oh, and another crazy thing -- one of the girls on the trip was keeping a journal? That's how we know about, like... 90% of the things that happened after they left the town."

He nodded. "Makes sense."

"So, because of this girl's journal, right? We know that one of the hikers just, like, fully went off his fucking rocker about a day into the trip."

"What?" Crowley asked, leaning forward with interest.

"Yeah! He started getting really antsy, and he kept shouting stuff at seemingly nothing? He yelled, like, 'Stop following us!' and stuff like that. At nothing!"

Crowley, for effect, took his sunglasses off so that you could see his surprised look.

"Anyway. So they keep going, even though literally everything that could ever say 'turn back' is saying 'turn the fuck back!' They got off course --"

"As you do."

"As you fucking do. They got off course and decided to hunker down for the night and retrace their steps in the morning. They set up camp, went to bed, and then they all fucking died."

"Oh, I imagine there's more to it than that," Crowley said.

The grin on your face was bordering on manic. "Oh, of course. First of all, according to the girl's journal, two of the hikers went batshit, started laughing hysterically for no reason, and then took off into the night, never to be seen again -- well, not alive, anyway."

"Ominous," Crowley observed thoughtfully.

"Right? And the other weird thing about that -- well, pre them all dying. There was, according to the girl, a big, glowing orange ball of light in the sky that night. They have a picture of it," you said, turning the book so that he could see. "Of course, it's in black and white, but still. And -- the craziest part of that, is that there were hikers on the other side of the mountain on the same night who confirmed the big glowing orange ball of light!"

Crowley's mouth dropped open.

"I KNOW! And then -- their deaths are even more bizarre! First of all, they cut their way out of their tent? Like, they didn't just -- open it and leave. They cut. Their way out. And then they ran down the side of the mountain into the trees. No one's really sure how anything else happened, but what we know for sure is that three of them were found a little up the mountain, like they'd been trying to make their way back up."

"Mhm."

"And two were found naked -- right at the edge of the trees, under one of the bigger ones. Some branches in the tree were broken in a way that seems to indicate that they were trying to climb up and get a view of the camp. There were also remains of a fire beside the bodies. We don't know for sure why they were naked, but the theory is paradoxical stripping."

"And what's that?" Crowley asked, even though he knew.

"It's when you're so cold that you start to feel hot, and so you take off all your clothes."

Demonic work, he was sure.

"So that's five of them. They were found shortly after they died. The other four weren't found until a few months later, after the spring thawed a lot of the snow."

"Why weren't they found right away?"

"Because they were found in a ravine about a mile past the treeline! Three of them were found in a stream in this ravine. One of them had a piece of her skull missing? And all of them had major trauma to their chests -- like, high-speed impact by a delivery truck kind of major impact. To this day, no one's sure what the fuck caused that kind of damage."

Crowley clicked his tongue in thought.

"And the last one -- she was found sitting up against a big boulder? The official report describes her like that. Sitting up against a boulder. She had, like, chunks of her face missing? And her tongue was missing. Like, the whole thing."

"You specified the official report," Crowley observed. "Is that important?"

"Oh! Yes! Because the pictures of the area? They show her as laying face down in the stream with the others!"

"That's suspicious."

"Right? On top of all that, their bodies had traces of radiation! Not their clothes, though, or their belongings. Just the bodies."

Crowley hummed.

"Oh! And their tent -- when authorities found the tent, it looked like it had been put up by amateurs. Like, level zero hikers. But these were level two hikers doing their level three hike. There's no reason their tent would've been put up like that. Even if they were in a rush or scared or whatever, it would've been put up at least sort of better."

He nodded in understanding.

"It's just -- it's all so crazy!"

"I can tell," he mused aloud, lips quirking into a smirk at your perplexed and frustrated expression.

"The thing with the girl's face is really weird," you said after a moment of thought. "The theory is scavengers, but reports of the incident specify there were no animals in the area. Like, I feel like if there were scavengers, you'd write down 'no predators,' or even 'no wolves or bears.' But no, they wrote, very specifically, 'no animals.' Like, I dunno, it just feels like that's a weird distinction to make. But then, if there weren't any animals, how did her face end up with bits missing?"

"I couldn't tell you."

"And why lie about her, too? Why move her and put her in the stream when the report literally says she was up against the boulder?"

He shrugged, before shifting forward to grip your knee.

"I just -- it's all so crazy, and weird, and -- and --"

"Oh," Crowley interjected, looking thoughtful. "Now I know why that all sounds familiar."

"Huh?"

"Yeah, that was demonic work," he continued, blissfully unaware of your increasingly maddening expression. "I'm pretty sure that was my side."

"So you -- you know what happened?"

He finally caught your expression, the set of your jaw and slight twitch in your eye. "Oh -- yeah. Of course," he said, sounding rather unsure, actually. If anything, that just seemed to aggravate you more. "Space yetis."

"... SPACE YETIS!?"

[cantsayidont]

I think setting STAR TREK: DISCOVERY and STRANGE NEW WORLDS in the TOS era was a questionable idea for a variety of reasons, but one of the more troublesome is their treatment of Spock, which opens some cans of worms I don't think there would have been a good way to handle even if the writers weren't intent on making bad and reactionary creative choices in other areas.

In TOS, most of the Enterprise crew, and really the majority of the Starfleet characters we're shown, are exceedingly racist to Spock with disconcerting regularity. Of the regular cast, I think the only ones who aren't overtly nasty to Spock at least some of the time are probably Uhura and Sulu; they get frustrated with him at certain points, but generally because he's a difficult and inflexible supervisor rather than due to racial animus. A lot of the rest of the crew is openly hostile, and McCoy routinely addresses him with slurs in front of the bridge crew. Kirk tolerates and sometimes participates in this racist abuse, and the only times he seems to take it very seriously are when it threatens to become an operational problem (as in "Balance of Terror"). The main feature that comes to characterize the bond that develops between Kirk and Spock is not that Kirk is significantly more tolerant, but that he will usually (not always) at least listen to Spock's point of view, which the rest of the crew is very reluctant to do (most pointedly in "The Galileo Seven"), and can be persuaded to respect his judgment, which Spock values even though Kirk's attitude and behavior still often make him uncomfortable.

This kind of space-racism toward nonhuman Federation citizens is not necessarily a structural element of STAR TREK (unlike anti-indigenous racism, which definitely is), but it is a structural element of Spock's character. Spock spends a lot of TOS teetering on the brink of a nervous breakdown, and it's tempting (though not canonical) to read his decision to pursue Kolinhar in the beginning of STAR TREK: THE MOTION PICTURE as a response to the stress of being on the Enterprise (fleeing to become a monk!). Even where Spock is not enduring racial slurs and constant microaggressions, you can see how that treatment, both in his youth on Vulcan and as an adult in Starfleet, has shaped his personality. Indeed, this is something I think to which fans of Spock have responded strongly over the years, because his alienation and stress are very relatable for LGBT people, people of color, Muslim and Jewish people (despite STAR TREK's canonical antisemitism and Islamophobia), and autistic people. This doesn't mean STAR TREK stories necessarily have to show Spock being tormented, which is often painful to watch, but if Spock had not been tormented in these ways, he would be a very different person than the character viewers know and love.

Making Spock a regular in DISCOVERY and later STRANGE NEW WORLDS thus presents the writers with a problem: Treating Spock the way he's treated in TOS would be uncomfortable, but avoiding it creates a tension with TOS that the newer shows obviously don't know how to resolve.

Prior to ENTERPRISE, the general presumption about the TOS era (which is stated as fact in some of the novels) was that having mixed-species crews is relatively new for Starfleet, and that the problems Spock faces stem from his colleagues never having lived and worked with an "alien" before and not knowing how to not be weird about it. (ENTERPRISE essentially transferred that idea to Archer's era, where T'Pol gets similar treatment.) In DISCO and SNW, however, we see that many Starfleet vessels have mixed crews, including officers (like Saru) who are much more obviously nonhuman than Spock is, and have for a while. So, how are we to read the events of TOS, with which DISCO and SNW still want to (uneasily) coexist? Is Kirk's Enterprise just a lot more racist than Pike's? That's possible, I guess, but how many STAR TREK fans really want to canonize the idea that Kirk and his crew are unusually intolerant by Starfleet standards? Are we to presume that SNW means to soft-retcon the hostility and constant microaggressions Spock experiences in TOS, shifting the entire onus for his twitchy alienation to his upbringing on Vulcan and to Sarek (who DISCO reiterates is a tremendous dick)? That would be sadly consistent with the disdain with which modern STAR TREK media treats Vulcan (and with the antisemitism of the modern shows), but it's a pretty bitter pill for anyone who thinks Vulcans are neat or cool, which used to be an uncontroversial majority opinion among STAR TREK viewers and writers.

The more sensible answer would have been to just dodge the issue entirely by staying further away from TOS and the period in which it takes place. There are other periods of the TREK timeline that are still largely unexplored (like the early 24th century era of the Enterprise-C), and there's always the option of moving further forward in time, as DISCOVERY eventually did. However, CBS seems very insistent on making heavy-handed appeals to nostalgia that require riding the coattails of TOS, even where that just doesn't seem like a good idea creatively.

My sense with DISCOVERY and SNW is that the producers would really like to simply redo TOS in a manner more consistent with their current vision, but that the decidedly mixed reactions to the alternate timeline JJ Abrams movies has made them gunshy about just declaring that openly. So, it seems they're instead trying to back into it with a kind of death-by-a-thousand-retcons approach, seeking to sand off both the uncomfortable aspects of TOS and stuff the producers and/or the network don't like (like Spock's gay-coding — SNW's determination to no-homo him is pronounced, albeit unpersuasive). I think I would find that vexing even if the producers' vision weren't frequently more jingoistic and racist than TOS, which it often is.

[athousandbyeol]

discussion #11 (only friends): is mew an outcast in the friend group? is it an intentional tactic by the directors/scriptwriters to make mew "less attractive"?

i think, from episode 1 to episode 3, we aren't seeing much of mew because it's intentional.

he's always at the furthest side of the shot, not really in the spotlight (except in scenes shared with top and close-up shots of himself alone). the clothes he wears aren't exactly trendy or fleshy. those glasses. he looks... boring. ordinary. nothing exciting about mew.

(i just have to put this picture because he's as precious as he can be <'3)

(well, hello there, mew.)

i think the directors and scriptwriters intentionally make mew look/feel like an outcast in this messy friend group so that we'll grow suspicious of him. mew is 'hidden' because he has yet unleashed the 'other side' of his. because i think we might have questions now; is he really all this? is that even possible?

side note: even p'force said mew is the flirty/cunning one in this relationship. he knows a lot of things, but i assume he chooses not to let people know because it isn't of importance to mew. he just wants to have fun sometimes and get that degree. that's all. but is that really it?

i see so many people are having strong opinions about mew, but saying mew is boring is where i believe this is somewhat true. i think many of only friends watchers took the bait— mew is so boring— they [topmew] aren't progressing anywhere— what are they even doing? it's so interesting to witness so much disparity when it comes to topmew. some like their story. some hate them. but as someone who enjoys every plotline in the drama, i can only say the six of them revolve around each other. the story won't progress if one character/a couple is pulled out from the circle. all of them are equally important. some relationships progress faster than the other. it's in sync with the build-up of the story (do refer freytag's pyramid to get a better idea of how a story is constructed), and the growth of the characters. they depend on each other. so, like it or not, the six of them co-exist. it can't be five people or only two pairs. it must be six and three pairs to make only friends work.

i regress.

moreover, i guess, p'jojo and p'ninew want us to implant this idea of mew in mind— just a normal person. i think, in that way, it creates tension, suspense and speculation. i think most of topmew enjoyers see this gradual growth of mew's character. as top has grown out of his confident persona little by little (mostly when he's with mew, top shows more of his vulnerable and child-like personality; the smile top gives mew during the silent disco scene was so pure and innocent. it made top look like a kid again; that lost kid in the fire), mew's other side of the coin is waiting to set sail. this excites me very much. because we clearly don't know who on earth mew is. and i'm taking this opportunity to applaud p'book again. he's doing a fantastic job as mew. kudos to him.

additionally, i have a question, don't you think it's a bit off that mew is friends with 1) ray, an alcoholic (i apologise if this term is degrading), 2) boston, a sexually-active person, and 3) chueam, the party-goer (i don't have anything negative to say about her, hehe). mew— a nerd, who likes partying but is still pretty much an average university student— how did he end up in this group? i just find it a bit weird. a bit out of place. he feels like an oddball in this friend group. it's like he doesn't belong here. and that itself is very intriguing.

i have a feeling mew's transformation will shock everyone, and he might be the core of everyone's heartbreak/headache (with nick being the second/main destroyer). i'm excited to see mewnick's revenge arc unfold because both of them will approach their battles differently; nick is going to be more emotionally driven, while mew is strategic and perhaps, heartless.

thus, i think the directors/scriptwriters have succeded in making us view mew as just... a person. nothing special. dull and one-dimensional. but this is just so thrilling to me as i believe (way before the series aired) mew is so much more than what we think he is, and i can't wait to see that mew. :)

//p.s. i don't know what this is honestly so i apologise for even writing this post...

[1 | 2 | 3 | 4 (i) | 4 (ii) | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12]

[wen-kexing-apologist]

Bengiyo's Queer Cinema Syllabus

I am currently working my way through Unit 4: Heartbreak Alley, the totally light-hearted, definitely not agonizing section of @bengiyo’s queer cinema syllabus where I get to watch countless acts of violence be committed against queer people. Thank fuck I have Lesbians waiting for me at the end of this unit. The films in Unit 4 are: Bent (1997), Strange Fruit (2004),Boys Don’t Cry (1999), Brokeback Mountain (2005), Parting Glances (1986),Philadelphia (1993), The Living End (1992), Holding the Man (2015), Jeffery (1995), and Boys on the Side (1995).

Today I will be talking about

Holding the Man (2015) dir. Niel Armfield

[Run Time: 2hr 8 min, Available: Google Play, Language: English]

Summary: The warm, funny and achingly sad story of the 15-year-long love affair between Timothy Conigrave and the boy he fell in love with at high school, John Caleo. (IMDB)

Cast:

Ryan Corr as Timothy Conigrave

Sarah Snook as Pepe Trevor

Craig Stott as John Caleo

__

So, as anyone who has seen Ben’s syllabus should know, he was very intentional about setting it up as a lead in to BL. Sometimes I wonder how some of the movies may apply, but I definitely understood where he was coming from with this one…

Ben wanted to show any person going through the syllabus the parallels between BL and Western films that let 30 year olds in terrible wigs play high schoolers. 

He also definitely put this movie on the list because these characters are gay boys in a Catholic school. 

gif by @captnswilson

Anyway, I thought this film was very good, it started off very strong not only with the phone call that cannot be more than two minutes that tells you everything you need to know about the characters, how they are connected to each other, where they are in the present. Especially when you know by the time the phone disconnects that John is dead, especially when the camera cuts to three old men looking at Tim as he tries desperately to call back, a stark reminder that Tim and John will never reach old age. 

gif by @captnswilson

I think the biggest thing I was struggling with in this entire movie was how indiscrete Tim and John were being about their relationship. Like, seriously, full confession, I thought the consequences of their physical intimacy would be because of Catholicism. Shielded by my own age I guess in part, but also hugely because of their lack general lack of fear or discretion, I fully forgot it was illegal to be gay in 1970, when Tim is fully reaching his hand down John’s pants at school, and putting love letters on his desk at school, and giving John hand jobs in his living room, and fucking with the doors unlocked when their friends go out fishing. 

That said, I do appreciate that even under the threats from their school, from their parents, they choose each other over and over again. They are unfazed and unashamed of their relationship and I think that sets the movie up to be all the more tragic because you can kinda tell what’s coming. The fact that they have fought against it all, they have loved each other fiercely and openly and relatively unafraid, makes John’s inevitable death all the more tragic. 

I think the production of this film was really smart, with some really wonderful transitions between scenes and the background music, or a line, or a lingering camera shot. For example when Pepe sends the kiss around the table, and after John and Tim have kissed each other and Pepe tries to take any suspicion of Tim’s feelings away by closing the kissing circle, we hear audio which soon after cuts to mass. The line of course being “To those trapped in the darkness of sin that the light shining in Christ may free them…” The way that John’s father thanks Tim for helping John come out of his shell, only for Tim to unzip John’s sleeping bag, literally opening a casing that was covering John a few scenes later so they can have sex and cuddle during a sleepover.  

gif by @captnswilson

The way the editing supports the discovery, the tension of John’s father finding the letter, while we see John and Tim fucking at the cabin, the friends coming back to catch them in the act, the way the music stops when John’s Dad is interrupted from his thoughts as he starts to read the letter around the same time that Tim slams the door shut on his friends. The way the silence in John’s room from his father is co-opted for the silence in the cabin’s living room with all the boys playing poker as if nothing had happened. The close up of Tim’s hand shaking the man he is interviewing, and then the subtle way Tim wipes his hand against the arm of the chair he is sitting in as if he can catch AIDS just by touching someone who has it. 

I have a thing for movies about AIDS letting their characters bleed. I really love the choice, the knowing that comes with seeing those bright trails of red. The weight to it. I love so many acting choices in this film, the scene of Tim and his mother preparing food after he comes home for his sister’s wedding only to find out that his mother read a letter addressed to him that essentially told him he had AIDS. I love when Tim can’t complete a scene after his acting teacher so thoroughly reads him, and honestly…respect, I appreciate that Tim is willing to admit that. I love the image of John’s father closing the door to their house after John puts his foot down, reaffirms to his dad that he loves Tim and says there is nothing he can do about it. Because the door to their house has bars, and it looks like John’s father is locking himself up in a cage. Trapped inside while John and Tim drive off in to the world. To experience it in its fullness while John’s father cowers away. 

gif by @captnswilson

I think the scenes where John was sick and where he was dying was super well performed. Hell, the entire thing was well performed, but to see Craig Stott go from strong athlete to gasping for breath, so sure footed to unsteady on his feet. I am in love with the blushy little smile that John gives Tim when Tim takes his picture and calls him beautiful after they have shaved John’s head, and glued dinosaur figurines to it. This film does such a phenomenal job of realistically, believably portraying love. 

I’m thankful to the writing for acknowledging sex workers and intravenous drug users, they are our brothers and sisters, they are us, we are all family, and I think it is important that we don’t forget them when we discuss AIDS, and the people we lost to it. 

gif by @captnswilson

I think they handled John’s death very lovingly. I am sure that I would have been bawling if I didn’t end up in a lovely two and a half hour conversation with a friend just before he draws his last breath. And again, the choices here, the loud, agonizing breathing John has when he sleeps, and the way the silence settles in when he draws his last breath. I am glad John told Tim in his own way that he was ready to go. That when he collapsed at home it was so easy. There is no way losing someone you love that deeply isn’t devastating, but at least for me, death is a little easier when I know someone is ready. 

I love that John kept his promise, not to die unless Tim was by his side, and that Tim whispering in his ear “I’m here” was what finally gave John permission to go. (I WANTED TO PUNCH A HOLE THROUGH MY TV WHEN JOHN’S PARENTS DIDN’T LET THE PRIEST SAY TIM WAS ANYTHING MORE THAN A FRIEND TO JOHN.)  I loved that we ended the film with Pepe telling Tim that John was by his side, right before we learn that Tim died ten days after he finished writing his book. 

I should have known, I guess, that this was based on a real story, because of the nature of the material, but for some reason I didn’t. Maybe I missed a title card somewhere or something. But I do think there is something so beautiful about being able to immortalize John, immortalize Tim, and immortalize their love for each other in a book. That their love story was told again through film. That there is no way to deny their love for each other now. 

Favorite Moment 

gif by @captnswilson

Honestly, I really loved the sex scene between John and Timothy near the end of the film when they are back in John’s childhood home to celebrate Christmas with John’s family. John has been receiving treatment for cancer, and is very weak, on oxygen and everything since his lungs have been having a lot of trouble recently. I love that every part of it is so slow and tender, John and Timothy dancing together in John’s room, paralleling the way they danced together at Tim’s sister’s wedding not long after their HIV diagnoses. 

John, as weak as he is, as hard as it is for him to breathe, asks Tim to screw him, and we get absolutely the slowest and most intentional sex scene of the entire film (and there are many sex scenes in this film). I do not think that all sex needs to be tender, do not get me wrong, but I did really love the way that with how obvious it is that John does not have much time left, they take their time with this. It is just such a beautiful expression of love between these two. I appreciate too that they make this sex scene beautiful, that sex between an actively dying cancer patient is held as high or higher in beauty and artistry as all the sex Tim and John were having over the 15 year course of their relationship. It is very obvious that this is a last goodbye, but for all that sex has at times been avoided in this film, for the time it brought HIV into their lives, sex is not a bad thing, sex is a necessary and wanted thing, I just liked it as a part of their goodbyes to each other. 

Favorite Quote

“How can you write this play? You’re making assumptions about your status.”

Honestly. What an incredible fucking line. Tim sitting in a room, interviewing a man who is dying of toxoplasmosis because of his HIV status for a play. I am not opposed to people making plays about terminally ill people. I do think it is important to immortalize, to remember, to tell stories. But for the love of GOD you canNOT go waltzing in to a dying man’s apartment, wipe your hands on his chair after you shake his hand because his AIDS disgusts you, and then demand his life story and his thoughts about dying. 

Tim had so much unprotected sex in college, Tim is hiding from the (possible) truth, Tim does not want to know. What right does Tim have to ask others for their stories when he is running from his own? 

Score

9/10

[thepeculiarbird]

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

'Don't get killed on the Road'

Genres : Thriller + Romance sideplot

Status : Draft 2 / Writing Chapter 8 / 20 109 words

!!Some content warnings : Cult, Blood, Dead bodies, murder, Suicide, homophobia kinda ??, child death (the plot is women kidnapping men and forcing them to make the next generation so you can imagine the vibe)!!

Tags for the wip: #project lmotr #project dgkotr #don't get killed on the road #wip quotes + Look at the characters page linked below for the characters tag

My Pinterest

CHARACTERS

'Don't get killed on the Road' is a project I started in December 2019.

I reached the end of draft 1 with 30 703 words! I'd like to have enough words to make 200 pages but I guess we'll have to wait and see! For draft 2, I'm planning to finish it in April 2025 so I have enough time to do it without putting pressure on myself.

This will be a trilogy, I think this is the perfect number of books to tell the entire story!

The full title is now "Don't get killed on the road" which makes way more sense than the previous one ("Love me on the road"). However, I know some people know my wip as lmotr so I'm keeping the tag just in case.

Summary :

After 17 years, Noe's father has still not returned, and the young boy begins his own investigation. With the help of Madhi and his girlfriend, Danae, they discover the innocent-looking town of Fronsant-sur-Breuil. However, the name "François Khorchid" sounds unfamiliar to all but two women, revealing to them the existence of a cult with dark intentions. Could this be the key to the mystery? With murders galore and clues piling up, will they be able to put an end to this disaster?

Well thanks a lot if you read this post all the way through and have fun writing :)

Feel free to ask me about this in the ask box btw!

Go see @rowenas-my-fave-child's blog! they make gorgeous fanart of my work!!

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dgkotr Taglist (ask to be +/-) : @athenaspeculiardaughter @kaylinalexanderbooks @raiden-makoto2 @sarandipitywrites

@jaelink @aalinaaaaaa @lyutenw @buffythevampirelover

@nettleandthorne @finxi-writes @arwenschepers @corruptedbread

@whimsical-blood-fairy @unrepentantcheeseaddict @kidukami @ryns-ramblings

@rowenas-my-fave-child @mysticstarlightduck @thelovelymachinery (I will forget to tag so don't worry about it)

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Other Wips :

Bloody School

Murders at the Carnegie Disco - Matcd

In the flesh

Play this part in my life

Kids, watch out for murderers

[gaykarstaagforever]

The 1999 Mystery Men movie is now free on YouTube, I guess because Universal finally realized that if no one paid to see it when it came out and so no one remembers it, no one is going to pay $3 to rent it.

Which is a shame (for the people who made the movie, who gives a shit about Universal), because it's good. Based loosely on the Flaming Carrot / Mysterymen indie comics of the 1980s (I'm only familiar Cerberus the Aardvark, which the same company published around the same time), it is meta superhero parody in the style of Gunn's Suicide Squad / Peacemaker, just 20 years before any mainstream American audience would give a crap.

This is a universe where there is one real superhero, who is so effective that crime is basically non-existent, so that the sole superhero himself is getting bored. When he comes up with a scheme to give himself something to do, it goes badly, unleashing a notorious supervillain on Champion City. When the Mystery Men, obnoxious wannabe heroes with virtually no powers, try to help, they typically fail, but so badly this time that now they are the city's only hope. Will they put petty grievances aside and learn to work together before Cassanova Frankenstein destroys the entire city?

Well, of course they will. It's a superhero movie. The point is watching fun wacky characters bounce off each-other for 2 hours, and this certainly delivers on that. The cast is a who's-who of 1999 charisma, with notable turns by Geoffrey Rush as the scene-chewing, disco-themed Frankenstein, Wes Studi doing Batman if Batman was doing Yoda, and Tom Waits as a benevolent mad scientist with a grandma fetish. Paul Reubens doing a lisp and Kel Mitchell in blonde Sisqo hair are especially fun as a team within a team, farting and getting naked on their path to victory.

Ben Stiller is the lead, playing a typical Ben Stiller-is-the-lead character, the kind of well-intentioned but self-absorbed incompetent that is charming when Ben Stiller plays him in movies, but everyone would despise in real life. And if you are a person who also isn't a fan of him doing this in movies, you'll also not like it, here. I like Ben Stiller doing this, but Roy here really is a useless pain in the ass until the very end.

There are lots of Gunn-type sitcom jokes about superhero tropes and general goofiness, and similar tonal shifts between slapstick comedy and people being slowly melted. Fans of The Boys will enjoy Greg Kinnear as a G-rated Homelander, complete with product placement on his costume.

It is about 20 minutes too long at 2 hours, and has way too many annoying closeup 90s fight scenes with mediocre choreography. More scenes of just the cast improving should have replaced a lot of this, because this is what the movie is really about. And there is some amazing 1998 CG that is used well, but man. It looks like what it is, certainly.

Props on someone greenlighting a superhero parody movie in a world where the only things to make fun of were the Schumacher Batman movies (Blade, the first "real" Marvel movie, came out the same year as Mystery Men). But it is obvious that only hardcore comic book nerds were going to connect with this, and there were not enough of them, outside of the big mainline "event" comic speculator market of the 90s, to make up for a $68 million budget.

This was made specifically for a movie-going public that has fallen in love with good superhero movies, then gotten sick of them, and appreciates someone making fun of them in a smart way. That is a thing we barely have now, in 2024. Mystery Men the big budget movie really is a thing that was just 20+ years ahead of its time. Watching it feels like watching an episode of Peacemaker that is intentionally aping the style and production design of Batman Forever. I suppose it is worth seeing, just for that.

Also the 90s Hollywood cameos. Dane Cook shows up, unfortunately. No, he isn't funny. He is a "superhero" who burns people with a waffle iron. I realize that may sound funny, but believe me, it isn't when Dane Cook does it.

See for yourself. That scene is in the original Smashmouth video for "All Star". Because that song being from the Mystery Men soundtrack before Shrek is literally all most people know about this movie.

And that's not fair to it. Go watch it.

[disco-elysium-via-polls]

🎵 Disco Elysium

2. "Absolutely. Superstars always get back up and try again."

KIM KITSURAGI - "Then let's go."

-1 Reputation

Painted with pastels. Someone is trying to bring cheer into the world.

ACELE - "So, like..." The girl on the ice looks up at you. "Seriously, what's eating you, man?"

EMPATHY [Easy: Success] - There is a hint of pity in her eyes.

PERCEPTION [Easy: Success] - Her hair is dyed blonde, with dark roots showing, and she wears thick black eye-liner. Most men wouldn't call her pretty -- there is a manliness to her. A coarseness.

"Yeah, can we talk for a minute?"

"What's your name?"

"What's that device you have there?"

"What are you doing out here in the cold?"

"You seem surprisingly comfortable with being questioned. Why's that?"

"Actually, that's it for now." [Leave.]

ACELE - "I was wondering when you would come around. What's up?"

"I guess... there is something... that's been making my life hell."

ACELE - "What is it?" She listens intently.

"I think it's the plight of the working class."

"Everyone's just mooching off the entrepreneurial class. Shackling the *doers*."

"I think it's… all these *foreign people* taking our jobs."

"People just keep putting their selfish interests ahead of the greater good."

+1 Communism

ACELE - "Oh, really?"

"The golem of capital runs rampant, smashing creator and slave alike. I fear the process is irreversible."

ACELE - "So, the thing that's got you crying in front of strangers... is social justice?"

"I haven't seen much of this world, but from what I've seen *social justice* is an adolescent term. Sounds almost liberal… what's got me shaken up is the *people's struggle* and it's got me shaken up *bad*."

"No, that's probably not it, is it?"

"Yeah, pretty sure. Now, I had some questions about something else entirely."

ACELE - "Yeah, man, they're pretty bad," she says, without much conviction.

"It makes me sick, thinking about the thousands... millions... billions? How many people are there, actually?"

ACELE - "Um..."

"How many people are there in the world?"

KIM KITSURAGI - "Three-point-six billion, not counting those on Seol."

"Really? That many?! Reduces me to tears thinking of the 3.6 billion and god knows how many more in that Seol place, crushed under the tyranny of the market."

ACELE - "Yeah, that's pretty bad," she nods. "Are you sure you're not just hung up on some chick though?"

VOLITION [Easy: Success] - Hmmm... *perhaps*?

"Now that you mention it, I found these letters I'd thrown in the trash. They *might* have something to do with it."

"I'm positive. Now, I had some questions for you before all this started."

ACELE - "Okay, why do you think that?"

"First, they had just the faintest scent of chewing gum on them. I could still smell it under the… shit."

"They were written in a woman's hand. And oh boy did reading them make me not feel good."

"To hell with this. Questions -- I had them. And you have answers."

ACELE - "Wow, man." She raises her eyebrow. "That's pretty symbolic, don't you think?"

"Yes, I found that to be very symbolic too."

"No. Why?"

ACELE - "Used to be sweet, now it's shit -- seems pretty symbolic to me. Anyway, what else?

"They were written in a woman's hand. And oh boy did reading them make me not feel good."

ACELE - "There you have it then -- chick trouble. Not political after all. Who was she?"

"I don't remember."

"No idea. Haven't seen her, definitely haven't *called* her. I don't remember a single thing about her."

ACELE - "Really?" She appears to believe you. "You seem pretty upset about this *chica*... are you sure you don't remember anything about her? Eyes? Hair colour?"

"I remember her scent and that's all."

"Yup. Next to nothing."

ACELE - "Wow, man. That's some pretty strange shit..." She rubs her sides for warmth. "Are you sure the letters were for you?"

"Yeah, I'm sure. Why would I have reacted so strongly otherwise?"

"Come to think of it -- the *whore* could have written them to her *lover*!"

ACELE - "How come you don't remember though? Is it, like, some selective memory thing?"

"Wait, what do you mean by *selective memory*?"

"I think it's more about me getting so unbelievably drunk I completely erased all memory of this world."

"Wait, what do you mean by selective memory?"

ACELE - "Man, when I get hurt I just wanna forget that shit, you know? That kind of selective memory."

"I think it's more about me getting so unbelievably drunk I completely erased all memory of this world."

ACELE - "Yeah. Or it might be that. This one time I did so much... booze that I forgot, too..."

LOGIC [Easy: Success] - It's obvious she's "done" more than "booze."

ACELE - "Or it might just be psych bullshit, you know? Königstein wank."

"What is this *Königstein wank*?"

"Alright, I had some questions for you."

ACELE - "You know: the psych thing they've got going on there. Rich people like it. People in Königstein are mostly rich."

"Thanks for the bullshit psych thing then."

"You know, I'm not sure this made things any better."

"Alright, I had some questions for you."

ACELE - "You're welcome." She thinks for a second, stretching her jaw. "Might be for the best to keep that shit forgotten though. Just my opinion. If it itches, don't scratch."

+5 XP

PAIN THRESHOLD [Easy: Success] - Yes, but it itches really, really bad...

2. "What's your name?"

ACELE - "Acele."

"And your surname?"

"Acele who? I'm not a young suitor, this is official police business."

ACELE - "Why?"

"Did I not say I was from the police? It's for the paperwork."

"Why indeed? Forget it."

ACELE - "Okay..." She hesitates. "It's Berger."

LOGIC [Medium: Success] - A very common name.

3. "What's that device you have there?"

ACELE - "This?" She breathes on her freezing fingers. "It's a portable recording device. It's for field recording. Low quality, but still."

"And the wires?"

ACELE - "Actually just one wire, I picked on it till the braiding came loose. The wire leads to a contact microphone."

"What's a 'contact microphone'?"

"Got it."

ACELE - "A contact mic records sounds from inside things. Like this ice."

ENCYCLOPEDIA [Medium: Success] - Your mangled brain would like you to know there is a boxer called Contact Mike.

Yeah? Any news on my wife's name? How about my mother?

What am I supposed to do with this?

ENCYCLOPEDIA - Nope.

You're welcome.

"Does this have anything to do with Contact Mike?"

"How does that thing work?"

"Where did you get the mic from?"

"Actually, I had some non-mic questions for you."

ACELE - "Uh..." She's confused. "Yeah, I record stuff with it."

"No, I mean the boxer Contact Mike."

"No, I mean... forget it."

ACELE - "Ah! No. This is a *contact microphone*, it's for recording *inside* solid objects. Contact Mike just beats people up."

"You know, Contact Mike doesn't *just beat people up*. Contact Mike is a role model."

ACELE - "Um..."

"Yes, you heard right. You should try to be more like Contact Mike: a successful athlete and an *inspirational figure* who has overcome social, physical, and mental obstacles."

"On second thought, screw Contact Mike. He's not a champion -- you are! Look at you here in front of a saggy tent, picking your nose to drug-addict music. The world of sports is in awe of your faith and dedication."

"Sorry, I don't know why I said that. There was something else I wanted to know…"

ACELE - "Man, you are one weird cop."

"This isn't about me. This is about your lack of respect for one of boxing's greats -- and for *yourself*."

"I'd say I'm just about normal. Now about that mic -- Not Mike. Mic."

ACELE - "What is it with you and this Mike guy?" She pauses. The question is rhetorical.

"Okay, if it floats your boat I'll be more like Contact Mike and less like me."

Thought Obtained: The Litany of Contact Mike

"Yes, that does indeed float my boat."

"Self respect is not meant to float any boats but your own."

ACELE - "I'll keep that in mind, for future use." She turns to check her tape recorder.

2. "How does that thing work?"

ACELE - "The mic? I don't exactly know. Somehow it doesn't pick up vibrations from the air. The box said it only picks up *structure-borne sound*. If you like technobabble."

3. "Where did you get the mic from?"

ACELE - "Same place I got the recorder from. The Paliseum."

"What's The Paliseum?"

"Probably a hangout for junior delinquents. Back to the mic, if you will.""

ACELE - "Oh man, you haven't been to The Paliseum?" She forgets herself for a moment. "It's *the* coolest place in this whole drug-addled shithole."

"It's a music club and a synthesizer workshop. On Boogie Street, in Jamrock. Musicians live there, like... real musicians. I once saw Arno van Eyck!"

EMPATHY [Easy: Success] - Thinking about it really cheers her up. It's a long way from here, though.

"Sounds interesting. Who is this *Arno* guy?"

"Sounds like a place for congregating homo-sexuals."

ACELE - "Yeah, there might be some. I don't think they look down on the homo-sexual underground there. The Paliseum's not that kind of place. It's cool."

"Because I have a problem with homo-sexuals. Major problem."

"Don't get me wrong. I'm all for it. This *Paliseum* just sounded like their kind of place."

"Oh no, you completely misunderstood me. I might be a homo-sexual myself."

I *could* put this one up to a vote, but, come on.

ACELE - "Oh! Well, good for you."

"Now about that *Arno* guy you mentioned."

"Never mind all that. I had questions about that mic..."

ACELE - ""Oh yeah..." She looks you over, assessing your age. "I guess even with your modern take on sexuality you wouldn't be in the van Eyck demographic."

"I get down."

"On second thought, let's go back to the contact mic."

ACELE - "I... don't know what that means."

"I grind."

ACELE - "Is that some kind of term from the homo-sexual underground?"

"It means I'm hip beyond my years."

"I'm not sure, but I have concrete evidence that I rock. In the form of a wrecked tape player and a totally trashed hostel room."

"Neither do I actually. I have no idea what I'm talking about. Get down? Grind?"

ACELE - "That's cool." She breathes on her fingers. Looks like she doesn't know what to say.

"You're right. Time has deserted me."

"Never mind, let's talk about that contact mic instead..."

ACELE - "Sucks, man." She squints her eyes for a second trying to remember something... then lets go of it. "Was there something else? About the contact mic, perhaps?"

-1 Morale

4. "Actually, I had some non-mic questions for you."

ACELE - "Okay."

Gonna leave this conversation for a second so I can save and look at that Thought.

THE LITANY OF CONTACT MIKE

Temporary research bonus: -1 Logic: No pain, no gain -1 Conceptualization: Push it -1 Drama: Make it Research time: 0h 15m

It's time once again to return to *The Twenty Things You Like To Say About Contact Mike*, the boxer who is, apparently, a paragon of open competition. It really doesn't get *any* better than this. *Any* better. Both inside and *outside* the ring. Stop. Point at someone. Someone in the distance. Point your finger at him. He *will* point his finger back at you, vaulting an impossible gulf of finance and privilege, to...

That's a lot of penalties, but it'll be over so quickly you'd hardly notice.

ACELE - "Hello again." The girl looks up at you for a moment before turning back to her work.

4. "What are you doing out here in the cold?"

ACELE - "Recording, I guess."

"And what is it you're recording exactly?"

ACELE - "I *think* I'm recording cracks in the ice, but there's no way to tell. Not without headphones. I think I just recorded your footsteps, too. Not sure how that will sound..." She scratches her forehead.

"Wait, what happened to the headphones?"

"And what are these recordings for -- the cracks, the footsteps?"

ACELE - "My boyfriend sold them."

"What for?"

ACELE - "I don't know, man... things. Just stuff you need for life."

DRAMA [Medium: Success] - A lie. They were probably pawned off for something ssssuspicious.

"And what are these recordings for -- the cracks, the footsteps?"

ACELE - "The musicians in The Paliseum use them for making music. They loop the stuff, cutting the tapes together. They make music out of cracks in the ice and keys jangling... crazy sounds like that. It's hard to explain."

Just nod.

ACELE - "Anyway, I thought I'd make some, too. It's supposed to be, like, a music place anyway..." She rubs her shoulders and looks around.

"I don't really know what I'm doing. They use synthesizers, too. I don't have a synthesizer."

EMPATHY [Easy: Success] - She looks at the recording device, the thing she thought would fill her hours with joy and escape. It's turning out to be an empty fantasy. She feels childish, very useless all of a sudden.

COMPOSURE [Medium: Success] - The sharp drop in endorphins is almost visible. Like a warm blanket has fallen off her shoulders -- the wave of chill, the quivering jaw. Indications of a drug high.

KIM KITSURAGI - "Take this, you're cold." The lieutenant begins to take off his jacket.

ACELE - "No man, fuck that, I'm cool... I'm sorry I said that. I'm sorry about the *fuck*."

KIM KITSURAGI - "It's okay." The lieutenant backs up. He throws you a glance.

"Now *this* is where a hat would come in handy."

(Give her your hat.) "Here. You need this more than I do."

"You said *it's* supposed to be a music place. What is?"

"I had some other questions." (Conclude.)

ACELE - "Yeah… maybe you were right about the hat."

I want to keep all the hats we have right now. Don't worry, I know where we can get another one.

3. "You said *it's* supposed to be a music place. What is?"

ACELE - "That." She nods toward the church. "The boys think it could be a *place*, like The Paliseum or something. Stupid. It's really..." she pauses, "not gonna be a Paliseum, that's for sure."

"The boys?"

ACELE - "Yeah, Andre and the guys. They're inside. In the tent."

LOGIC [Easy: Success] - And why is that?

"Why are you freezing out here, while the boys are inside?"

(Let it go.) "Got it..."

ACELE - "They got too much stuff crammed in there. No room."

"Stuff like what?"

ACELE - "Music stuff mostly. Like this tape recorder, but bigger. And there's piles of it."

"You mean like those headphones your boyfriend sold."

"Why not just leave some of it outside so you don't have to freeze?"

ACELE - "Yup." She squints her eyes a little. "They were pretty... I'm sorry we sold those."

"Why not just leave some of it outside so you don't have to freeze?"

ACELE - "That stuff is more expensive than I am. More expensive than any of us, really. Doesn't matter. I can take the cold."

4. "I had some other questions." (Conclude.)

ACELE - "Go ahead."

5. "Tell me more about this *music place* you've been planning in the church." 6. "You seem surprisingly comfortable with being questioned. Why's that?" 7. [Empathy - Legendary 14] The tape recorder lies on the ice like a discarded toy. Pick it up.

ACELE - "It's supposed to become, like, a club. For *anodic dance music*. Like that new style of synthesizer stuff they play at The Paliseum."

"Except that... yeah." She looks at the old wooden church up on the poles. As a mean wind comes bellowing in, the six-story structure lets out a doleful shriek.

SHIVERS [Medium: Success] - The floorboards are twisting and the shooting beams are slowly cracking like bones. Far east of the golden Delta, beyond the industrial port, there is a black patch of unlit coast with the smallest creatures on the ice...

There will never be a club for anodic music here.

Not in a million years.

"What is *anodic dance music*?"

"So you want to turn the church into a club?"

"Did you put the padlock on the church door?"

"Enough about the church then. I had another question." (Conclude.)

ACELE - "You know, anodic, cathodic -- music that's made with electronic instruments."

Secret task complete: What is anodic music?

+10 XP

Level up!

"Electronic instruments -- like what?"

"Got it. Now about the church..."

ACELE - "Synthesizers and tape consoles, microcomputers too. Anything that uses electricity, but isn't guitars... also found sounds. Stuff like that."

INLAND EMPIRE [Easy: Success] - You see clear, beautiful, violent flashes of light. Light cutting through a smoke-filled darkness. That is what the future will look like -- if it ever comes.

2. "So you want to turn the church into a club?"

ACELE - "I know." She nods towards the sloping mass of wood on the coast, then shivers. "It's not my idea. Andre and the boys found the place. It was supposed to be deserted, but now they can't even take it..."

"Hey..." Her black eyes widen. "You two are cops..."

"No. We are *the law*."

"Yes. Why do you ask?"

"I don't know where you got that idea."

ACELE - "Okay, well..." She hesitates. "Maybe you could *talk* to Andre and the guys? Because there are some strange things going on in that church... if you're police you should look into it, right?"

"I'll talk to them."

"We'll see. I prefer to remain non-committal."

"I've got enough on my plate as it is."

ACELE - "They're inside that thing there." She points to the tent. "Would be cool if you did... Was there something else?"

3. "Did you put the padlock on the church door?"

ACELE - "No."

"No?"

ACELE - "Not really, no."

(Show her the sticker on your ledger.) "So, this isn't yours?"

"Okay then. About that church..."

ACELE - "It's Noid's."

"Wait, is this *Noid* a friend of yours?"

"Why did this Noid-person put a padlock on the church door?"

ACELE - "Yeah, I guess you could say that."

"Why did this Noid-person put a padlock on the church door?"

ACELE - "To keep more weirdos from getting in. Fucking Martinaise... I'm sorry." She rattles her teeth. "It's got the worst weirdos. If you get around to it, ask Andre about them, he'll tell you."

4. "Enough about the church then. I had a another question." (Conclude.)

ACELE - "Go ahead."

6. "You seem surprisingly comfortable with being questioned. Why's that?"

ACELE - "Well, it's just questioning, right? You're questioning me -- it's what cops do."

DRAMA [Challenging: Success] - Fast and clean! A good one. Can't quite say it's a lie, but feels like one. She's better at lying than she'd like everyone to know.

"Have you been questioned before?"

"We do, don't we? Mind if I question you some more?"

ACELE - "Once or twice, yeah. I'm sorry I haven't had the *Revachol experience* they get east of the river."

"What's east of the river?"

"So, what trouble you've gotten into -- with the police."

"I had another question." (Conclude.)

ACELE - "*Rich* people. Rich people are east of the river."

(Look awestruck.) "Who are these *rich people*? They sound wonderful! I'd like to be one too."

(Sneer.) "I bet they're *really* rich. They must be very special people to be so rich…"

(Lean in and whisper.) "Let me guess, these rich people are not from around here..."

"Strange. The existence of rich people does not stir any emotions in me."

"Oh, okay. Good to know."

+1 Communism

ACELE - "Oh, they are. And I'm scum."

"I'm scum too."

"You're not scum."

ACELE - She nods, apprehensively.

2. "So, what trouble you've gotten into -- with the police."

ACELE - "The usual. I had a shitty run as a teenager."

"What's *the usual*?"

ACELE - "You know, drinking, getting into fights. The ugly stuff that happens when you move out of your parents' place at thirteen. In Faubourg."

CONCEPTUALIZATION [Medium: Success] - Interesting term. Time to glean some knowledge!

"Wait, what is *In Faubourg*?"

"Why did you need to move out at such a tender age?"

ACELE - "Is this a rhetorical question?"

"No. I literally can't remember even the most basic terms sometimes."

KIM KITSURAGI - "Khm..." The lieutenant steps in. "Faubourg -- not *In Faubourg* -- is a massive banlieue south of Jamrock Quarter. It is the largest ghetto in Revachol -- possibly the world."

"I *know* what Jamrock is but… let's say I didn't."

(Turn to the girl.) "And why did you have to move out when you were so young?"

KIM KITSURAGI - "We're Jamrock. Sort of. Martinaise is called North Jamrock sometimes. Jamrock is also a ghetto, only smaller than Faubourg."

+5 XP

ENCYCLOPEDIA [Medium: Success]- Jamrock is a district of Revachol comprised of the following quarters: Pox, Villalobos, Central Jamrock, Grand-Couron, Old South and the Valley of the Dogs. Learning is great!

(Turn to the girl.) "And why did you have to move out when you were so young?"

ACELE - "My dad was a drunk. Plus, I guess I just wanted to drink too, you know? Get my *party on*."

"You know what? I think you've really learned something from all those times you've been questioned. Some of your lies have been pretty good."

"I get that. I'm a major party animal myself. MAJOR."

"Drinking, partying and disco music are bad for you. You should take me as a warning example."

"I had another question."

ACELE - "Um... thank you?"

+5 XP

EMPATHY [Trivial: Success] - The girl is truly proud of herself.

"Yes, I can't even remember how many you've told or which ones I picked up on. Now -- another question."

"Lying to the police is nothing to be proud of. Now, another question, if you can manage to tell the truth."

ACELE - "Go ahead."

7. [Empathy - Legendary 14] The tape recorder lies on the ice like a discarded toy. Pick it up.

+2 More like Contact Mike.

EMPATHY [Legendary: Success] - The device is still warm from her touch -- and heavy as a brick, from the batteries inside. The company logo "Omicron" adorns its yellow plastic cover. Inside, the tape is rolling -- the girl looks at the device in your hands.

"I'm sorry you have to sit here on the ice with the drugs wearing off. At your age -- or at any age -- in this weather... waiting for it to get dark."

Put the tape recorder down.

ACELE - She looks you in the eye, her pupils wide, surrounded by a ridiculous amount of make-up.

"The people who built this world intended it to be better for you, but they failed. It is easier to live in their failure with this by your side." (Tap on the tape recorder.)

ACELE - The wind howls. She remains silent.

EMPATHY - It's real. Tell her.

"It is not a childish fantasy. It can be a real weapon against what's coming for you now."

ACELE - "What is...?" Her shoulders shake a little.

"The dark."

"Nothing, if you got this. Don't be scared."

"I'm once again reminded of how Contact Mike rose from the slums of Saint-Batiste to the top of the boxing world, overcoming adversity and serious brain trauma. Nothing is coming -- nothing he wouldn't knock out in three rounds. The real fight is for the right attitude."

ACELE - "Okay." Her teeth rattle. She takes the device from you and places it in her lap. "I'll stick to it."

AUTHORITY [Medium: Success] - There is little you can do to help her now, but given the chance you feel like you *should*. There is something about her. A weightiness.

ACELE - After a moment of silence she speaks again: "So, thanks. I guess. For the psych session. I guess that means we're... even?" She smiles a little.

SUGGESTION [Easy: Success] - She means your little talk before, after your breakdown. It's all right, she means to say. You returned the favour.

+5 XP

6. "Actually, that's it for now." [Leave.]

[sunskate]

Maybe it’s because I’m not knowledgeable enough to notice the details, but the one thing that always sticks out to me with F/G is that they work hard, but I never see much improvement. With a lot of teams, you see their dance skills get better or their speed improve or their strength/core become more pronounced. It’s been years and I honestly see so little progression in F/G since disco brits. Yes, the lack of diversity in their programs probably compounds the issue. But their actual skills vs 4 years ago feels exactly the same and that’s pretty unusual.

for me, what looks improved in the last couple seasons is the skating in the step sequences - they look like they (she) are holding edges longer and going into the ice a little more. the skating looks smoother. that's in comparison to them 2 or 3 seasons ago. if you watch their RD side by side with say Guignard/Fabbri and watch their feet there's still a huge difference. or the Taschlers or CPom or any of a number of other teams

i started this expecting to focus on what's improved in F/G, then i started watching their RDs with other teams for context, and oof F/G are so overscored

like here's an early season Latin RD from the Taschlers from 2022 - this was their lowest scoring performance of this program from that season, 72.79, and they only got level 1 on their midline. but the deeeep edges, the physicality of the dancing, the size and sweep of their skating - you can watch 30 seconds of this and see the difference in the quality

Fear/Gibson at Nebelhorn two weeks earlier scored 85.80. *13* points better than the Taschlers. you can't compare scores directly across competitions, but the Taschlers got PCS in the 7's while Lilah and Lewis got 9.0 for skating skills here. Taschlers never scored higher than 77 on their RD that season, while F/G got 86 at Worlds 🤦🏻‍♀️

if F/G were being scored realistically, i would be cheering for them, because they are improving. but they're being graded on a curve for some reason, and the scores make no sense

the weaknesses are still there, but they're less than they were - the skating is relatively weak but showing some progress. they're unbalanced as a team - Lewis is the better skater and better dancer. they know it, and Romain knows it, because it's always choreographed into their programs that Lewis does flashy moves that Lilah does not. like his leap right before the twizzles in the new FD - can you think of another team where one partner will do the hard transition by himself? (she does a twizzle into the twizzles instead 😩😅)

but they've improved in that Lewis is moving her around less than before, and the skating when they're not touching is more equal. Lilah's not the most natural dancer, she's kind of stiff - her carriage has improved, and you don't see the points of her elbows as much -

but here's a team that's nowhere near them in the rankings, and the way Holly uses her arms and her carriage to make a bigger frame is more effective. Holly has her habits with her hands, too, but a lot more flowing, more controlled, more aesthetically intentional use of the upper body, esp arms

so i do see improvement. but compared to many other teams, their weaknesses are overlooked, and strengths way overscored. imo. i guess we'll see how much this continues

[space-cowboy2227]

I figured out my problem with a lot of the newer stuff under Kurtzman. It’s that he is an action guy. Look at his IMDB! So much potential wastes away, written badly or worse, written lazily, because the stakes need to be raised in order to get what he deems to be appropriate action. There always has to be something to fight, something galaxy or universe threatening. There is a misunderstanding of what Trek IS. Not just it’s ideals, which do translate very well, but this constant CW-ification of the franchise. Trek is literally Hopecore and I haven’t really felt that in any of the recent shows. Maybe flickers of it, but never fully.

There is also the way that action causes a neglect of good writing. There are so many characters we never got to know, Trek is best with an ensamble cast. There are unnecessary plots because we sacraficed writing at the alter of action and high-stakes. Going to the future wasn’t necessary, yes Discovery has technology that no one else has but there are other ways to justify that! The spore drive breaks, Disco gets assigned to riskier/more dangerous science missions (ex. missions where gravity near a thing of interest is nigh inescapable etc.)

Even worse than bad writing, sometimes its lazy writing! There are plot bunnies they never chased down that would have been so interesting. Michael has a part of Sarek’s ACTUAL SOUL. What are the ramifications of going to a time where he is long dead? Does she get the rest of it and Sarek rides shotgun in her head like Spock did in Search for Spock? Speaking of Vulcans, Michael’s vulcan upbringing was only relevant for 2 seasons, it was touched on briefly when they made contact with Vulcan (I’m sorry but I am not calling it Ni’var) but no one ever mentions it or utilizes it. Why do they never touch on the fact that for all intents and purposes, Spock went missing trying to save Romulus from the supernova? That has to have relevancy, since Michael is basically the only main character, right? She’d want to know what happened to her baby brother.

TL;DR so much of the bad writing and plotholes can be boiled down to Action man wanted action and neglected anything that wasn’t potential for action, even coming up with unnecessary stuff for, you guessed it, more action.

[quietsamurai98]

Decided to play Slay the Princess, with absolutely zero foreknowledge about the game. Like, so little foreknowledge that I was surprised when the intro screen said it was a horror game. Initial reactions (and spoilers!) below the Read More

The narrator just accused me of being a monarchist for having reservations about killing a princess, which genuinely made me laugh.

In general, I am rather wary of trusting narrators in indie games, especially ones that give me Stanley Parable vibes like this one does.

Just heard the Princess' first voiceline (literally only two words), and FUCK THAT NOPE SHE SEEMS EVIL. If she acted scared or confused or in distress in any way, I probably would've let her out immediately, but her sounding confident and almost cocky has immediately brought my guard up.

But still... Killing someone, even if they seem deeply suspicious and there's a narrator encouraging me to kill them... Seems wrong. At least, not without talking to her, so I guess I'll drop the blade for now.

The way she's been threatening me after I said I'd leave her locked up until I figured out what to do made me reconsider, and I decided to slay her. Which... didn't work. But WHAT THE FUCK?? MY HANDS?? WHAT ARE MY HANDS??? AM I A DRAGON?? IS THIS GAME TURNING THE HEROIC HUMAN/EVIL DRAGON DYNAMIC ON ITS HEAD???

Wait, chapter 2? After I died? And we're back on the path to the cabin, and the narrator has forgotten everything, but my character hasn't... Is this a time loop? Will the Princess remember anything?

Ooo, wait, another voice (Voice of the Broken) in my head? Are we gonna get a Disco Elysium style cast of voices? I thought Voice of the Hero was just the protagonist (who I assumed is the Hero) speaking of loud, but maybe not? Maybe it's what the protagonist's heroic side is thinking?

Ooh wait, the house seems to be bigger on the inside this time..? With the interior of a tower?

OH NO, SHE'S HOT

Also, OH NO, SHE REMEMBERS

Oh, I don't like that all my options are blacked out except for the one she's commanding me to do.

...

Well, I got so engrossed that I forgot to write down my thoughts for the rest of my first playthrough. But yeah, of all the vessels to bring to Her first, Apotheosis is certainly one of them. Definitely one that makes the Narrator seem like he wasn't lying.

...

I started a new playthrough with the intention of doing a Slay run (because I always tried, to varying levels of success, to Save the Princess in my first run), and immediately got The """Good""" Ending, which I didn't expect. I definitely feel like my first ending ("And? What happens next?") is the better ending of the two.

[shredsandpatches]

Teatro la Fenice's new production of Mefistofele (with Alex Esposito in the title role) opens tonight so I've been seeing a lot of preview pics on the bird site, including this one and a video of the chorus from the end of this scene (which does look cool despite the schlubby costumes on the two leads, why are they putting Alex Esposito in sweatpants, come on, they put him in fishnets for Gounod!). ANYWAY it got me thinking about the various props I've seen used for the globe in "Ecco il mondo." For the uninitiated: this scene is set at Walpurgisnacht, the witches' sabbath and the primary event of the infernal social calendar. At one point the chorus presents their sexy demon overlord with a globe, symbolizing his mastery over the world and prompting Mefistofele's aria about the folly of humanity, at the end of which he smashes it. (The original libretto mentions a glass globe, and they did have sugar glass in the 1870s so I think that's probably what it would have been.)

Anyway, if you look at the video from later in the scene you can see that disco ball earth looks substantially redder and more burnt out by the end of the scene, a lighting effect which I am guessing takes place at the end of the aria. Which is pretty cool! I rather like that! Not as much as something that can go boom, but still pretty neat.

Other prop choices I've seen, roughly in order of how much I liked them:

Nothing (Festspielhaus Baden-Baden 2016, ft. Erwin Schrott). Come on. Why would you do it this way. I love this production quite a lot (and I actually otherwise really liked their Walpurgisnacht staging) but sometimes it makes questionable choices and this was one of them. Projecting equations all over the giant stage skull does not count. LET MEPH SMASH THINGS.

Giant blue lighted globe (I forget what production this was, but I saw this scene on youtube and couldn't find it when I looked just now). Pretty attractive visually, and stood out amid an otherwise red-dominated scene. Also the closest on this list to authorial intent (and, let's be real, Boito would certainly have used a lighted globe if it were possible to do safely at the time). However, you lose a lot of the impact if your singer has to carefully drop the prop globe into a trapdoor. This is kind of a common theme in this post and a principle by which I would abide: if you can't break it, use something else.

Cow heart (Bayerische Staatsoper 2015, ft. Rene Pape). Well, it's certainly creatively gross! I'll give it points for that. It was definitely not the worst idea this production had in re: Walpurgisnacht. But there are also a few problems: one is the destructibility issue outlined in the last entry. If you do something gross like that it's not gonna be as effective if it doesn't get to go splat, which obviously the prop cannot do. Another is that it doesn't really go with the symbolism of the aria (why is the world a cow heart, specifically?). A third is that the scene had already placed a bunch of writhing pregnant women downstage which made me worry that things were going to go a LOT darker than they actually did. I neither need nor want to see sacrificial baby yeeting in Mefistofele, but if your production is generally committed to maximum squalor, you probably shouldn't do anything that would make the audience imagine it and consequently doubt that commitment.

Paper globe (Teatro dell'Opera di Roma 2023, ft. John Relyea). A solid choice! He spikes it into an oil drum fire pit and and it makes a nicely scary-looking flame for an instant. It would have looked cooler if it were bigger, but it was definitely visually interesting (unlike most of the scene, alas; Relyea was typically fantastic but the director did not give him much to work with in this sequence beyond dressing him like Mussolini) and appropriately destructive.

Latex balloon (San Francisco Opera 1989, ft. Samuel Ramey). This one sometimes draws sniffs from opera purists for being cheap and tacky, but honestly that's entirely on-theme: behold the world! It's a piece of crap! This staging is iconic for a reason (it's on the cover of the dvd) and the simple balloon is satisfyingly destructible (Ramey dramatically stabs it with a very large pin), easy to bat around before destroying it, and inexpensive to replace. Full marks. Of course, this is a famous enough production that any other one that goes that route will probably be seen to be alluding to it.

Because I am obsessed with this opera and have an unattainable fantasy of directing it I have a lot of thoughts about all kinds of staging details, and so I would definitely return to the "inflatable earth" well, but distinguish it by getting Faust into the act: the second and third verse of the aria, after all, are about how dumb and generally shitty humans are. (And I think it's important for stagings of this sequence not to lose sight of him, which sometimes happens.) I'm picturing Meph dragging Faust up "onstage" and handing the globe off to him, as a representative of said dumb shitty humans (a lot of teasing interspersed with aggressive flirting going on here ofc). At the climactic "Ecco il mondo!" he flicks a finger in Faust's direction, and the globe explodes in his hands, to the great delight of the chorus. It's different, and it's a nice moment for making your singers cooperate in selling it (Faust, of course, has the more difficult job here since he'd have to play startled at a stage effect he is largely responsible for carrying off). My throughline for Mefistofele is that it's fundamentally a toxic, destructive love story that's still somehow weirdly ennobling for the participants on some level, and the Walpurgisnacht scene is a pivotal moment in that arc (it's where Meph's switch flips from "I want to win my wager" to "I want Faust") so that staging choice would be a another little thing that makes that relationship central.

[kevinexe06]

HIHI! Sorry I’ve hadn’t been posting. I grew this bad habit of never posting bc it might not be good enough ? anyway, I’m trying to get rid of it. I’ll just be sharing art whatever I have some!!

Here some actually. I have a shit ton of art

OH AND uhhh warning for mixed/multi fandom. If your expecting just ONE fandom, your wrong. Sorry, but not rlly but stick around for my cool, AMESOME art fandoms mentioned: OATD (ocs w/wo description), Inside out (oc), Trollhunters (oc), Mune:gotm (oc w description), Monsters inc/uni/aw (oc w description), MDTBH (doodles), transformers (shitposts)

OCS OKAY so i have a ALOT of ocs i made over the time I hadn't posted... kinda random but idc. I love every single of these guys!1! Most of these, I haven't wrote or made a description for yet... I will soon, but maybe not idk. If you wanna know about them, ask :3

Death: It is the embodiment of death itself. It's job is to bring souls to the afterlife and will guide them on there journey. Occasionally, he will offer souls a job, resulting in "human" entities that made humans who they are. For example: Disco Party, he was originally a human but was given a job by Death to bring the love of disco during the 70-80s.

Barrek: He is an monster that gradated from Monster's university and close friend with Johnny Worthington (yeah ikr, how original). He was originally with Fear Tech but after getting too involved with Monster's university, he got kicked out.

Smolder (bottom, middle): Smolder is a unknown species that arrived from the underground to aid the overworld. He has no intentions of causing harm and even befriended Sohone as cubs. In my vison of MGOTM universe, the underworld is where lava like sentient beings live, where Smolder is originally from. This species were also banished to the underworld due to their crimes (ancient times).

DOODLES

I got a ton :))! order: MDTBH, Transformers (animated, RID 2015),

Lefteria being a good father?!?!? (featuring Antivoids OCs)

TRANSFORMERS.... I drew A LOT of shitposts, but i lovelove it

OH MY GOD, IMAGE LIMIT. Guess this is my first post to my little art dump!! (more is coming)

[hippiegoth97]

Diary of a Hawkins Hussy: A Stranger Things x Reader Anthology

Banner by me :)

Master List

Content Warning 18+ Only, Minors DNI: swearing, smut, drug references, age gap, groping, fingering, unprotected sex, praise, dom/sub dynamic, use of a shock collar (do not try this at home), use of restraints, edging, orgasm denial, light crying, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, light squirting, problematic characters

Word Count: 12.5k

Divider by @firefly-graphics

Diary Entry #1: Martin Brenner

May 28th, 1983

Dear diary,

Today marks the day I officially join the adult world. I just got back from graduation. I'm still dressed in my cap and gown, with my diploma sitting in front of me on the desk. I did it, those four years of hell we all call high school are finally over. I'm free. And now, I can focus my attention on my true ambitions in life. No more Chem flashcards or asshole teachers telling me what to do. No more Mom and Dad policing my every move. Nope. I fully intend on doing the one thing I've been itching for from the moment I saw that 'Help Wanted' sign in the shop window. I'm going to work at Waxed Out Records downtown, as an assistant manager.

Waxed Out is the coolest store Hawkins has to offer, though it doesn't have much by way of competition. I've always loved going there, ever since I was a kid when Mom would bring me along on her trips to pick up the new ABBA or BeeGees. Music is my lifeblood, I can't go a single day without listening to some form of it. I've dedicated almost my entire (though limited) existence to curating my collection of vinyl and cassettes, expanding my tastes as far as the eye can see. I love it all, rock, hip-hop, pop, country, blues, jazz, disco, metal, the list goes on. I'm the perfect candidate to work at Waxed Out. I only hope the lame owner, Mr. Harris, will see that at my interview tomorrow. But until then, it's a relaxing night of Stevie Wonder and weed to calm my nerves. I'll let you know how it goes.

May 29th, 1983

Dear diary,

I got the fucking job! Mr. Harris was totally impressed by my extensive knowledge of all things music! I knew I had this in the bag, but I'm so excited, I could just scream! My hand is absolutely shaking as I write this, you have no idea. I start next week, and my first shift can't come soon enough. I need to get the hell out of this house, and into my own place. It shouldn't take long, I've saved up all of my graduation money in a very special hiding place. Just a couple hundred bucks more, and I'm finally on my own. I won't have to listen to Dad tearing apart the house, searching for things to pawn off to buy more booze. It's a good thing I have multiple self-installed locks on my door, or else my collection would be toast. I also won't have to listen to Mom telling me how much of a drain on her I am, or her lectures about 'ambition' and 'wanting more for myself'.

I like to think I am very ambitious. I got this job all on my own, and I'm saving up my pennies like my life depends on it. I know exactly what I want out of life. Simple pleasures, like music and sex. More on that particular subject, I highly intend to expand my current hook-up pool. High school boys (and girls) were all well and good while I was still under the legal definition of a child. But I'm a woman now, and I have every intention of bagging any man or woman that catches my eye. From freshly graduated young women, to strong men in their fifties, and everything in between. As long as they're hot, nothing else really matters. And in that department, Hawkins sure knows how to deliver. Chief Hopper, Mayor Kline, Joyce Byers, this one white-haired guy in neatly pressed suits that comes to town every so often...I'm getting a little turned on just thinking about it. More to come later, probably about my first day of work.

June 1st, 1983

Dear diary,

You'll never guess who came into the shop on my first day of work today! It was none other than that guy with the white hair I mentioned before. I didn't learn much about him, except that he really likes classical music. He picked out some Bach and Mozart, which isn't usually my strong suit. It sounds pretty and all, but it comes off a little hoity-toity, if you know what I mean. But it makes sense for a guy like him, he seems very intellectual. Oh, you should've seen him. It took everything in me not to stare as he browsed the classical section. But his hair was styled neatly as it always is, though a little longer than what's typical for a man his age. And he had on this grey suit that fit him extremely well...I managed to get a couple good glances at his ass. And shit, he must have a Soloflex at home, or something because...it was as tight as a twenty-year-old's, I swear.

He didn't say much. He smiled at me when he came up to the register, and I could totally feel my cheeks burning bright red. It was embarrassing, at first. But if my mind wasn't tricking me, his smile got wider at my reaction. I didn't bother to say much to him, I know I would've made a complete and utter ass out of myself if I tried. But I managed to get out a 'thank you' once I'd rung him up and he paid. He said he'd be back in a couple weeks, almost like it's a routine for him. I'm not sure why, there's only so much Beethoven and Chopin in the world, ya know? But I'd be lying if I said I wasn't counting down the days until that gorgeous, yet mysterious, man with blinding white hair comes walking through the shop door again. Safe to say I won't be able to get that smile of his out of my mind either...fuck me.

June 15th, 1983

Dear diary,

It happened. He finally came back, and this time, we actually had a bit of a real conversation! I (mostly) managed to keep myself together this time, and I'm beginning to think that he likes me. At least, I hope he does...

You hear the little bell hanging above the front door to the shop tinkle, signaling for you to repeat the phrase Mr. Harris has trained into you. "Welcome to Waxed Out. Let me know if I can help you find anything." You say flatly, not looking up from the romance novel you picked up from Melvald's earlier this afternoon. You hear purposeful steps clicking on the linoleum, taps and drags of men's dress shoes on a path to you.

"Yes, miss..." A voice you recognize speaks just across the counter from you. You look up from your book, realizing it's the exact man you've been hoping would return. He's wearing a charcoal suit this time, but that seems to be the only thing that's changed about him. He smiles at you, eyes flicking to your chest to read your name tag. "...Y/N. I was wondering if you could help me find something in particular." He speaks in a calmly commanding, slightly gravelly voice. You hadn't heard much of it upon your first meeting, but it certainly sounds very pleasant to your ears. He carries an odd air of authority, which just as bizarrely makes you want to follow any orders he might give you.

"Sure thing, sir. What did you have in mind?" You reply kindly, coming out from behind the register in preparation to locate whatever it is he's looking for.

His eyes follow your form as you come over to him, and you realize just how tall he is in comparison to you. He's well over six feet, which only adds to his intimidating nature. He seems a bit distracted by you, though, as it takes him a moment to answer you. "Oh, yes. Well, I was hoping to find something for my...daughter." He says with a strange pause put before that final word. Your heart sinks at this revelation, and you suppose he's probably married, too.

"Oh, I see." You reply, and you're sure he can see your face falling slightly at this bit of information. You force yourself to perk up, to make the sale, even if your hopes to potentially sleep with this man have been dashed. "How old is she?" You ask, clasping your hands behind your back.

"She's about to turn twelve, so this would be a birthday gift." He replies, still smiling at you. You take a peek down at his hands, looking for a ring. But they're nestled in his pockets at the moment, leaving you without that small piece of evidence to confirm your suspicions.

"Oh, that's nice." You say awkwardly. "Do you know what she likes? Or did your wife give you a list?" You ask, trying to crack a small joke. But his face hardens, which makes you immediately regret asking.

"No wife, I'm afraid. She died when Ele— Jane was very young." He says, bringing the smile back slightly.

"Oh, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean—" You try to apologize, but he puts a hand up to stop you.

"That's quite alright, you couldn't have known. But I raise Jane all by myself, and it's hard to know what girls her age like. So, I was hoping your female perspective could help me with that." He gestures at you, his smile widening again.

"Yeah, sure. Um, let me see what we have here..." You trail off, going around to the other side of the store towards the soundtrack section. Musicals are usually a pretty safe bet. Wholesome enough for parents to approve of, while also entertaining enough for kids of all ages to get something out of it. You flip through the records, digging out Grease, The Wizard of Oz, and The Music Man. "I think these are pretty good options. What do you think?" You're about to turn around to bring the albums over to the man, but you find that he's been standing right behind you this whole time. You bump into him in the process, and his close proximity startles you. "Jesus!" You gasp when your record-full hands meet his chest.

"Pardon me, I didn't mean to sneak up on you like that." He says with a laugh, putting his hands on your shoulders to calm you. "Are you alright?" He asks, gazing down at you with concern.

You try to speak, but all words have escaped you in this moment. You're too busy getting lost in his eyes and taking in how strong and firm his hands feel as he touches you. You find yourself wondering how they'd feel while touching you in other places, which you realize is wildly inappropriate. A harsh blush creeps up your cheeks, and you force a thick swallow down your throat before answering him. "Yeah, I'm good. But, uh...here." You hold the records out for him to look at. He takes them from your hands, and you're finally able to breathe easy again. "Do any of these look alright? If not, I can keep looking." You add, wanting him to leave as a satisfied customer. If you do well here, maybe he'll come back again...and again...and maybe for more than just music.

"These look great, Y/N. She's going to love them. You mind ringing me up?" He says, drawing your eyes to his again.

"Oh, you're going to buy them all?" You ask curiously. Parents are usually pretty stingy when it comes to getting albums for their kids. Perhaps it's a fear of the discs getting scratched or broken.

"Why, yes. Should I not?" He questions, raising an eyebrow at you.

"No, no. I just meant...I wasn't sure you'd do that, I guess." You fumble over your words, walking the both of you over to the register now. Perhaps some distance from him will help you calm the fuck down. If you come off too doe-eyed and naïve, he may not have much interest in you.

"Well, let's just say you're a very good saleswoman." He chuckles, the sound of which stirs something inside you. You punch in the prices on the stickers Mr. Harris put on said albums, which comes to a total of sixteen dollars.

"Thanks, I appreciate that." You giggle, biting your lip slightly before taking his payment. He pays with a credit card, from which you nosily read the name of its owner. Martin Brenner. He doesn't look like a Martin. Although, you suppose you don't know what he does look like, either. You bag up the records for him, handing them and his card back to him, as well as a receipt. "Here you go, sir. I hope Jane enjoys the albums." You say sweetly.

"I'm sure she will, thanks again for the help. And please, call me Martin. I'm sure I'll be back here again soon. You've got good taste, Y/N." Martin winks at you, before heading towards the door to leave.

"See you 'round, Martin." You say cutely as he leaves, earning another pleased glance in your direction. Once he's walking down the street and towards his car, you double over onto the counter to take some deep breaths. "God, that man is sexy as hell." You say aloud to yourself, overwhelmed with the entire interaction that's just transpired. You know he's a bit advanced in age, but Martin sure knows how to flirt. You're a little weary of the fact that he has a kid and everything, but it's not like you're looking for anything long-term. You just know you want to fuck him, even if it's only once. You can tell there's something secretive about that man, and you're dying to have a peek behind that proverbial curtain to see exactly what it is.

June 26th, 1983

Dear diary,

Martin hasn't come back the the shop in a while. It seemed like things went pretty well the last time he came in, but who knows. Maybe he was just being polite. I haven't even seen him very much around town like I used to. I suppose he could be busy with his kid, or something. Being a single father can't be easy. But I can't help it, I think about him all the time. He's so handsome, and the way his hands felt when they touched my shoulders... They were so warm, and felt firm and strong. I replay that moment over and over in my mind. I even dream about him now, about everything I think he might want to do to me.

The dream is almost always the same. I'm at the shop, and Martin comes in. There's no one else around, and he's not there for records this time. He's there for me. He comes right up to the counter with purpose, beckoning me out from behind it to put myself in front of him. He caresses my cheek, before leaning down to kiss me. He's gentle and tender, and his hands lift me up to sit on the edge of the counter. We kiss for a while, enjoying the moment. 

Now, this is where things really heat up...he undoes my jeans, pulling them and my panties down to my ankles. He reaches between my legs, and he puts his fingers inside me. They're thick and long, and they feel so damn good. While he does that, I unbuckle his belt, and open up his slacks to pull out his dick. He's fucking huge, at least, he is in the dream. I pump him in my hand a few times, and he lets out a quiet groan while staring down at me. He's so damn hot, I can barely stand it. He pulls his fingers away, and takes hold of his cock himself. He gets closer, and shoves himself into me. Once he starts, he doesn't slow down. He fucks me fast and hard, and I like it. He holds me down while I squeal and squirm for him. He grunts and growls with every thrust, railing me against the counter until I'm screaming his name.

I always wake up right after I cum, having to change my panties because I've soaked through them from my orgasm. It's clear that I want Martin to an embarrassing degree, I only hope he will want me just as much. Time will tell, diary. Time will tell.

June 30th, 1983

Dear diary,

Martin came in again today. He seemed...off. He still talked to me, nice as ever. But it was like he was stressed out about something. Our transaction was very short this time around. Every passing second where he didn't look at me, or touch me, or talk to me felt excruciating. All I could think of was the insane desire I felt to just go up to him and make my intentions perfectly clear. I was shocked to find I hadn't actually done it, the fantasy became extremely vivid. But when Martin came up to register with a couple new picks, and his cock still in his pants, the daydream quickly dissolved into shame.

I realized that I probably shouldn't think and feel so strongly about a perfect stranger like this. All it does as make me feel like a silly child, not to mention I basically gave myself away by blushing so damn much. I mean, I'm only eighteen years old. What could an experienced, well-established man like him possibly find desirable in me? Who knows, maybe I'll hold out hope a little longer. Maybe if I wait for him to make a move, this might work out. Ugh, I need some weed to think this over.

July 8th, 1983

Dear diary,

You're never going to believe this, I can hardly believe it. Martin came in today, for much longer than all the other times. He really chatted me up, and I was happy to talk to him for as long as I could. It felt like he was waiting to ask me something, but he couldn't quite find the words, or courage. To think, he was the one who was nervous. But once I got the ball rolling on a much-anticipated conversation, it became very clear as to why...

"Oh, hey, Martin. What would you like today?" You chirp as the man walks into the shop. You perked up immediately once you saw him crossing the street, waiting for him to come inside and give you the time of day.

"Afternoon, Y/N. I'm not too sure what I want, honestly." He says oddly, not quite looking your way. He seems anxious, or nervous. Could it be because of you? "But I know I can always trust your recommendations." He turns his head to meet you with a smile, putting his hands in his pockets as he comes toward the counter.

"You got it. You lookin' for more classical? Or, perhaps you'd like to branch out into something...younger?" You hint, standing before him in a meek pose. You clasp your hands behind your back, and look up at him from under your eyelashes.

"I-I suppose I could try something new." He stutters slightly, looking you up and down. Shit, maybe it's working.

"Sure thing! Follow me." You spin around, your short skirt flouncing upwards at the motion. You lead Martin towards the Lionel Richie and Phil Collins. You figure he doesn't want to waste time on teeny-boppers. He clears his throat before following you, and you smirk to yourself at him losing his cool. You pull out the albums you have in mind, and fully expect him to be standing right behind you again. You guess correctly, but this time, you purposefully put your hands on him when you turn back around. "Oh, didn't see you there. Not a lot of space in these aisles." You speak somewhat suggestively, running the back of your hand along the lapel of his navy blue suit jacket.

"Quite right. What do you have for me?" His eyes flick down to where you're touching him, then to the sultry smile on your face. You give him the albums, and he chuckles while looking them over. "I don't know, Y/N...these might be a little too hip for me."

"Oh, I wouldn't say that, Martin. You seem pretty 'with it' to me. Besides, Lionel and Phil are perfect for when you bring a woman home. If that's your thing, anyway." You continue to run your hand along his jacket, gauging his response to it. He hasn't told you to stop yet. If anything, he seems to enjoy it.

"It's been a while since I've done that, actually. Much longer than I'd like to admit." He says, somewhat embarrassed.

"I don't believe that for a second, you're way too handsome." You compliment him, still testing the waters.

"Oh, you don't mean that. A young lady like yourself surely has no interest in someone like me." He shakes his head, laughing at your suggestion. He probably thinks you're really trying to sell him on the vinyl, but you honestly don't give a shit about that.

"I wouldn't be so sure, Martin. I personally find you...very attractive." You speak lowly, turning your hand over to actually touch his chest now. Your palms creep up along his clean white shirt, and you gently take hold of his necktie. "And I'm not just saying that to sell you more records." You give him as sincere a look of desire as you possibly can, batting your lashes to make it clear to him what you're looking for.

Martin thinks it over for a moment, contemplating that you could potentially be a really good time. But he shakes his head, sighing deeply. He can't possibly take such a young woman home. It wouldn't be right...would it? "I-I'm flattered, Y/N, really." He sets the records down, taking hold of your hands. "But I don't think I could give you what you're after." He says sadly, already kicking himself for denying his desire to have you. He's been thinking about it for weeks, but he's sure you couldn't handle what he truly has in mind.

"Why do you say that?" Your eyebrows scrunch together in confusion. You were sure this would work. Doesn't he like you? Doesn't he think you're pretty?

"Forgive me for coming off a bit crude, here. But I'm just not sure that you're mature enough to handle the kinds of things I'm into, intimately speaking." You're confused by his words, you don't understand what he means by that.

"And how would you know?" You ask, becoming irritated with him for thinking you're some immature girl. He scoffs, surprised by you.

"I guess I don't, Y/N. But I wouldn't want to hurt you. I really like you. I think you're very pretty, and sweet. I'm just not sure it's a good idea." He shakes his head again, putting your hands down before pulling his own away.

"Well...maybe I'm not afraid to get hurt, Martin." You smile again, his attempts to deter your interest have only piqued it further. "It's very simple, really. I want to sleep with you. I don't care what you're into, I got up to some pretty crazy shit in high school. But if you really don't want me, that's fine. I can find someone else if I really want to." You figure there's no use for formalities at this point, so you lay it all out for him. The ball is in his court now, it's only a matter of if he wants to play.

He sighs again, still unsure of what to do here. "You make it very difficult to say no to you..." He says, pausing as he reads your expression. He supposes it can't be all bad, you're the one coming on to him. If you really want this, then who is he to deny you? "Are you absolutely sure this is what you want, Y/N?" He asks, cupping your cheek like he does in your dreams.

"Yes, I want this more than anything." You reply breathlessly, unable to believe this may actually happen. There's a tense moment of silence between you, and he finally nods in agreement.

"Alright. What time are you finished here?" Martin asks.

"Nine o'clock." You answer, biting your lip in excitement.

"Perfect, I'll pick you up. In the meantime, would you mind ringing me up for these?" He smiles, picking up the records you've chosen for him.

"Okay." You practically skip over to the register, though you don't really want him to leave. You bag up his purchase, and he makes his way out onto the street. You'd been hoping for a goodbye kiss, though perhaps that would've been too weird. You glance over at the clock, finding that you have two whole hours left before closing time. You pick up your novel, but you find it hard to focus on the words. All you can think about is what Martin could possibly like in bed that he thinks would be 'too much' for you. Handcuffs? Been there. Whips? Done that. Spanking? Roleplay? Anal? Check, check, and check. High schoolers are way kinkier than anyone gives them credit for. You can't come up with anything else, so if anything, you'll show Martin just how well you can keep up. You hope that'll impress him, for some reason.

The time passes excruciatingly slow, but thankfully a few more customers come along to distract you for a while. You make four more sales before the shift is over, not too bad for a record store in a less-than-booming small-town downtown area. You gather your things at 9pm on the dot, and head for the door with keys in hand. You step out into the muggy night air, turning your back to the street while you lock the door to the shop. You suddenly feel a figure behind you, who extends a hand to grab hold of your waist. You jump and let out a small scream, whipping around to see who it is.

"Shit, Martin! You scared me!" You say once you see that it's just your new conquest who's been waiting for you.

"I'm sorry. Are you ready to go?" Martin asks, slowly pulling you into him by the hip. He takes a second to get a good look at you, as if he hadn't already done so while you were helping him in the shop. He finds you to be very alluring, in your Cyndi Lauper t-shirt that hangs off one shoulder, and the short skirt that barely covers your behind. Not to mention your beautiful face, without a single blemish or sign of age to be found.

"Ready when you are, Martin." You reply suggestively, running your hands up and down along his shirt again. Your touch seems to break him out of his trance, and he turns the two of you to head towards his car. It's slick, and black, with a driver and everything. "Nice wheels." You comment, sliding into the seat while the driver holds the door open for you.

"Thank you." Martin replies smoothly, getting in after you. He sits very close to you, and the driver closes the door behind him.

"So, where does a man like you live around here, hm?" You ask coyly, putting your hand on his thigh. He peers down at you, watching your every move. You've noticed he's pretty restrained overall, very methodical with his movements and reactions.

"Oh, it's a humble house, really. Not far from here." Martin replies, and you nod.

"'Humble', huh? Does your job not pay you enough to have a large house and a driver?" You giggle, bringing your hand a little further up his leg. "I guess I never asked, what do you do for work, exactly?" You question curiously.

"I work in government, at the Lab." He replies shortly, too focused on your hand growing closer to his crotch. You're so forward with him, it's kind of throwing him off.

"Oh, I see. I bet that's pretty interesting." You continue on your teasing journey towards his cock. You want to feel him, and play around a bit before you reach his home. You've always had a problem with patience.

"You could say that." He says, just as your fingertips brush against his length. You smirk in satisfaction at finding it, and boldly take hold of it. His throat catches at you groping him, and you find his eyes to see how he's doing. His mouth sits slightly agape, but he doesn't say or do much else. You think he's enjoying this, since he's growing in your hand. But you'd be hard pressed to know for sure.

"Does this feel good, Martin?" You ask quietly, not wanting the driver to hear.

"Y-Yes." He stutters. You continue to touch him over his clothes, becoming very wet yourself as you watch him hold back his noises. He lets out muted sighs as opposed to moans and grunts, but the sound is still more than enough to turn you on further. "We should be there soon, Y/N." He says, taking your hand away from his cock, holding it in his instead.

"Sorry." You apologize, realizing that you've possibly made him uncomfortable.

"Don't be. It's alright. Just be patient for me. Can you do that, Y/N?" He says lowly in your ear, sending a chill up your spine. You nod silently, but he needs to hear you answer. "Use your words." He commands in a husky tone, sending a flare of pleasure between your legs. Now I see what he was talking about. Lucky for him, I've played this game many times before.

"Yes, I'll be patient." You answer breathlessly.

"Good girl." He answers simply, smirking at your quick obedience. Maybe you can handle him after all.

...and there we were, off to his house to have sex. I swear, I kept having to pinch myself to make sure it was actually happening, and not some extremely elaborate dream. But every time I felt that little sting of my nails digging into my flesh, all I was doing was driving myself even more crazy. That little confirmation of reality repeated again and again, made me feel all tingly inside. We couldn't get to his home soon enough, I wanted to touch every inch of his body in the back of that car. But I had to be patient, because that's what he told me to do. I could feel it in my soul that disobeying him would have been a very unwise decision...

"Here we are. Home sweet home." Martin says as the car pulls up to a house on the end of a dimly lit street. It's unassuming, the basic 'white-picket-fence' home of the typical middle class worker. It's not unlike your own house, perhaps slightly smaller. But you suppose a single man with a young kid doesn't need very much space. Your mind turns to his daughter, Jane. You wonder if she's home, and if she'll be upset that daddy brought home some random girl.

"Is your daughter home?" You ask nervously.

"No, no. She's at a friend's house tonight. Don't worry, we'll be all alone." He chuckles at your concern, he finds it very sweet.

"Oh, okay. Good, I'd hate to have upset her." You reply, waiting for the driver to open the door to let you both out.

"I appreciate that, Y/N. But please, I'd hate for the evening to focus on Jane. Especially when I've brought such a beautiful young woman home with me." He says warmly, gently pulling you along as he steps out of the vehicle. He leads you to stand upright, and you both walk to the front door. He unlocks it, letting you inside. The interior is exactly as you expect, a warm little house for two little people. Children's drawings on the refrigerator, kitschy trinkets on shelves and cabinets, probably left over from his deceased wife. That thought makes you a little sad, though it quickly disappears when Martin wraps his arms around you from behind once he's closed the door.

"Hey there, handsome." You giggle, leaning back into him for a moment. "I love your home, it's very cozy."

"I'm glad you think so, Y/N. It does get a little lonely sometimes." He speaks softly, lowering his head to press a kiss to your neck. You sigh blissfully at finally having his lips on you, they're very warm and soft.

"Well, hopefully I can help with that. At least for tonight." You reply, tilting your head to the side to give him better access. He responds well to this offer, planting more blazing kisses to your throat. He doesn't nip or suck your flesh, which would usually disappoint you. But the way he's holding you close like this makes it feel just as passionate. His hands wander up your body, palms brushing over your shirt. He stops just below your breasts, apprehensive to venture further. "Go ahead, Martin. I want this." You murmur, turning your head to look back at him. He seems different now, the air between you has changed. The atmosphere has become charged with expectation and anxiousness, and you can feel his erection prodding against your ass. He resumes his journey upwards, carefully cupping your tits over your shirt. You let out a quiet moan, gazing at him as you do so. He smiles at the sound, pressing a little harder with his hands to earn another one.

"Shall we take this upstairs?" He asks lowly, and you nod. He lets you out of his grip, stepping ahead of you. He takes your hand, leading you up the steps to his bedroom. You pass a quaint bathroom, and what looks like a kid's room along the way. You don't bother to take more than a small peek inside, you'd hate to come off nosey. Martin takes you to a room at the end of the hallway, pushing the door open to reveal the master bedroom. It's still as warm and cozy as the rest of the house, dressed in those signature hues of yellow, orange, and brown left over from the 1970s. He gestures for you to sit on the bed, and you take a seat on the edge of it. You take your shoes off, and he removes his suit jacket.

"So, what's this strange 'thing' you're into, Martin?" You ask curiously, setting your bag down on the night table beside you.

"You'll see soon enough. But I'd like to...get to know you a little bit first." Martin answers, giving you a look while undoing his tie. He loosens the knot around his collar, before slipping the loop over his head and untying it entirely. "Have you ever been tied up before?" He asks, holding the ends of the tie in his hands with purpose.

"Yes." You reply simply. He nods, bringing the tie over to the bed. He lays it out neatly beside you, presumably to be used later. "Should I...take my clothes off?" You ask, becoming a little unsure of yourself.

"Not yet. I'll tell you when and how to do everything. Is that alright?" He speaks firmly, expecting you to agree.

"Yeah, that's fine." You say casually. You watch as he hangs up his jacket, and methodically takes off his shoes before placing them neatly in his closet. He comes over to you, sitting beside you on the bed now.

"You're very beautiful, Y/N." Martin says, brushing a loose hair behind your ear.

"Thanks." You blush, looking down at your feet. He puts a finger under your chin, bringing your head up to face him again.

"Can I kiss you?" He asks.

"Yes. Please." You reply, you've been waiting for him to do this for a very long time. He brings his face closer to yours, and your eyes flutter closed in preparation. His lips meet yours, and you immediately melt against him. "Mmm." You hum into the kiss, following his small movements. He doesn't use tongue, you suppose he's a bit old-fashioned that way. But you don't mind, he's still a very good kisser. He pulls away, taking your breath with him.

"Take off your shirt, please." He orders politely, clearing his throat. You do as he asks, pulling the garment over your head and tossing it to the floor. You look at him expectantly, waiting for him to make his next move. "Pick it up and fold it." He says, a serious look on his face.

"Oh. Sorry." You laugh nervously, bending down to pick up the shirt. You follow his instructions, holding in neatly in your lap now.

"Now, put it on the table." He says. You do, and he smiles again. "Good girl." You face him again, wondering what he's going to ask you to do now. He doesn't say anything else, but he reaches his hands forward toward your chest. His eyes flick to yours, asking for permission. You nod, and he grabs hold of your breasts through your bra. You moan at his touch, quickly becoming hungry for so much more. He massages your tits, almost as if he's inspecting them. You oddly feel a bit like an expirement, and he's taking mental notes of your behaviors and reactions. "Does this feel good, Y/N?" He asks in a neutral tone.

"Yes." You breathe. You decide to try and strip him down a little bit too, reaching over for the buttons on his shirt. His eyes follow you, almost waiting for you to break an unspoken rule. You stop in your tracks. "Can I?" You ask, biting your lip anxiously. You want to see him, but you don't want to make him angry.

"Can you what?" Martin smirks, and you see now that you need to use your words again.

"Can I unbutton your shirt, Martin?" You ask, clearer this time.

"Yes, you may. But from now on, call me 'sir'. Okay?" He says.

"Yes, sir." You giggle at how it sounds at first, but if he likes it, then so do you. You resume your desired task, starting with the button at his collar. You push it through the stitched hole, exposing the rest of his neck. You notice Martin's grip tightening a little, which makes you moan again. You wonder if he'll do it every time you undo another button, testing the theory. You open the next one down, and he does the same thing, squeezing harder for a moment, before resuming his gentle massage. You undo the next button, and the next, moaning louder with every squeeze he gives you.

"You make very nice noises, Y/N. Are you enjoying yourself?" He questions, still coming off painfully formal. If it were anyone else, you'd probably be put off by it. But his overall sense of confidence whenever he speaks makes everything he says sound attractive to you.

"Yes. It feels really good." You answer, still opening up his shirt. There's just three more buttons left, and what you've revealed so far is exactly what you were hoping for. This man clearly works out, he's very fit. His muscles aren't anything crazy, but he has not let turning gray slow him down one bit. His chest and stomach are toned, with a small amount of salt and pepper hair in all the right places. You tug the tails of his shirt out of his slacks, undoing the final button. "Your body is amazing, sir." You say breathlessly, meeting his gaze again.

"Thanks. I try my best to stay in shape." He smirks at you finding him so attractive. He massages your chest more roughly now, drawing more noises from you. He leads you to lie down, with your legs hanging off the edge of the bed. He presses his lips to yours again, one hand leaving your breast to slip under your back. He unclasps your bra, and slides the straps down your shoulders. He folds it up nicely while still kissing you, setting it off to the side for a moment. Martin grabs hold of your bare breasts now, rolling the nipples between his thumbs and fingers.

"Mmm." You moan against him, enjoying every second of this. You feel up his own chest, marveling at his firm muscles. After a little while, you want to feel more. You lower a hand down his stomach, over his belt until you reach his erection again. You ghost over it, earning a low groan from Martin's lungs. It's the first one you've heard from him, and it's sexy as hell. You start groping him again, your heart pounding in your chest as you expect him to stop all this and punish you. But he doesn't, he lets you continue to touch him, still letting out those same breathy groans. "Please, sir. I want you so bad." You whimper when his lips leave yours to go to your neck again. You squeeze him a little harder in your hand, wanting him to move things along.

"Patience, Y/N. Be a good girl for me." He pants between kisses on your throat. He loves how needy you are, how badly you want him to touch you and be inside of you. He's never seen a girl so desperate, but he's only getting started. A few minutes later, Martin pulls away. He sits up, taking off his shirt entirely. He stands to go hang it up, and then turns to look at you again. "Take off your skirt." He orders.

"Yes, sir." You answer, standing off the bed to remove it. You fold it nicely, putting it and your bra on top of your shirt on the table. You sit back down, and he smiles at the sight of your pink lace underwear. "What should I do now?" You ask, feeling oddly self-conscious while sitting in nothing but your panties and socks.

"Lie down, Y/N." He says, before digging deeper into the closet for something. You do as he says, putting your head on the pillows. You try to position yourself casually, posing your arms and legs in various ways. But nothing feels right. You decide to stop trying so hard and just lie still, though you're curious as to what he's looking for. He comes back over to you, holding a silver metal box. He puts it on the bed, and silently opens the clasps. He pulls the top open, revealing what looks like a collar. It's a large, tan ring with white, squared nodules around the inner circumference. There's an electronic lock on the side, and a small remote next to it. It appears to be a shock collar, which makes you swallow hard.

"What's that?" You ask, though you feel a bit stupid asking. What else could it possibly be?

"Oh, just something to ensure that you'll follow my every order." Martin answers simply, looking at you with an odd smile. He raises a brow at your widened eyes, closing the lid of the case for a moment. "Do you still want to do this, Y/N? I completely understand if you don't." He offers you one final way out. But you want this, a little shock can't be that bad. It could be a lot of fun...right?

"I want this, sir. I'll do anything you ask." You reply, and he nods. He opens the box again, and takes the collar out of the foam lining inside. He clicks a button on the remote to open the ring, and comes over to you to put it on.

"Sit up for a second." He says, and you do. He puts the collar around your neck, the nodules digging into your throat with light pressure once he clicks it in place. You lay back down once he's finished, and he presses another button to power it on. A low buzz kicks on around your neck, the sound startling you. You gasp slightly, drawing his eyes to you again. "Is everything alright?" He asks, checking in on you.

"Yes, sir." You nod, breathing heavily. He puts the remote down on the table for a moment, and picks up his necktie.

"Put your hands above you head." He commands. He ties your hands together at the wrists with the silk fabric, leaving a small amount of slack so you don't lose circulation. "Good girl." He praises, taking in the image of you in your newly bound state. Your eyes have blown wide with desire as well as fear, your chest rises and falls with heavy, rapid breaths, and the cherry on top is the small wet spot of arousal on your panties. "Are you ready to play, Y/N?" He asks with a grin, very eager to set things into motion.

"Yes." You reply, hoping he'll touch you soon. He's been quite stingy with his touches thus far, drawing everything out for the sake of driving you crazy.

"Good. I only have one rule. If you misbehave, you get a shock. But I'm sure a smart girl like you has already figured that out." He chuckles darkly, almost looming over you from the side of the bed. You nod in understanding. "Perfect." He brings a hand to your chest, carefully caressing the side of your breast. You gasp at his touch, the softness of it sending tingles along your spine. He travels downwards very slowly, going down to your stomach and waist. He meets the hem of your panties, looping a finger around the fabric. He reaches over to do the same on the other side, and gingerly pulls your underwear down your thighs, knees, and ankles. He doesn't fold them up this time, nor does he put them with the rest of your clothes. Instead, he puts them in his pocket to keep as a souvenir of your night together. You don't mind, many guys have done that before. You take it as a compliment, if anything.

You instinctively spread your legs apart a little, expecting him to start touching your pussy soon. But it appears you've guessed wrong, because Martin quickly picks up the remote and presses it. You feel a strong, paralyzing current running through you, making you cry out as your body convulses outside your control. "Fuck!" You huff when he finally stops, your muscles relaxing against the bed.

"I didn't say to move, did I?" He asks angrily, and you shake your head. "Use your words!" He almost shouts at you, holding up the remote as a threat to shock you again if you don't speak up.

"No, sir! You didn't! I'm sorry!" You apologize frantically, fumbling over your syllables. That shock scared you, there's no doubt about it. But you're surprised to find that it also felt...kinda good.

"That's right. Now, have you learned your lesson?" He asks, eyes burning into you as he waits for your answer.

"Yes." You nod. He doesn't say anything else. Instead, he drags his hand lazily along your ankle, creeping up toward your knee and thigh. He draws closer to your cunt, watching your breath hitch and heart skip a beat while you wait patiently for him to touch you. You observe silently as he continues to torture you with waiting so long. You need to feel his fingers on your clit, or sinking deep inside your pussy. You feel compelled to cry and scream for him to give you what you want at this point. But you hold it all back, you have to obey him if you're going to get what you so deeply desire.

Martin's hand reaches your inner thigh, and he presses on further to touch the very outside of your silk. You moan at the sensation, as unsatisfying as it is. "Hmm, so soft." He observes aloud, wondering how often you shave or wax your most intimate areas. He travels deeper, finally making contact with your clit with the very tips of his middle and ring fingers.

"Fuck." You whine, using every ounce of willpower to keep your hips from bucking off the bed. You don't imagine he'd take very kindly to such lack of self-control.

"More?" He questions.

"Yes, sir. Please, touch me." You whimper, begging him with your eyes. He does as you ask, dragging his fingertips along your slick folds. You're quickly heating up as he continues to stroke you, sweat forming inside your pores. He's still very slow and methodical, noting your every sound and expression like before. "More, please." You beg, still resisting the urge to buck and thrash around on the bed. You'd love nothing more than to grind your hips to get yourself off against his fingers.

"Well, since you asked so nicely." He smirks, moving further down to press a finger inside your soaked hole.

"Oh, god." You gasp. He pumps the digit in and out of your pussy, brushing against your g spot ever so slightly. Without you needing to ask, he adds another. "Fuck...yes..." You moan breathlessly, your eyes rolling back into your skull. His fingers are the perfect size, as long and thick as you dreamt they would be. He keeps his snail's pace, but you don't even care. He's inside you, and it feels so damn good.

"That's a good girl...do you like having my fingers inside you?" He asks curiously, though the answer reads plainly on your face.

"Yes, sir. You feel so good, I'm so wet for you." You shake your head in the affirmative as you speak, letting him know how amazing he's making you feel. Normally, Martin would have a mind to shock you again for responding in such a vulgar way. But he likes hearing these dirty words falling from your lips. You're different than the others, you're special. You make every single salacious statement sound like lines of poetry to him. This may only ever be a one-time thing, but you'll certainly be one that he'll never forget.

"I'm glad to hear it, Y/N." He says softly, continuing to work you over like it's his day job. He continues to go slow, but your insides are boiling all the same. You can sense your release nearing, and you're sure Martin can as well. "Are you getting close?" He asks, noticing your walls have started to flutter around his fingers. He'd love to see how beautiful you look when you climax.

"Yes, sir. Please, don't stop." You plead as the waves of your oncoming orgasm begin to roll over you.

"I won't, Y/N." He says softly, almost like a promise. It's uncharacteristically sweet, considering he's got your hands tied up while a shock collar sits tightly around your neck. Just a little longer, and you'll be calling out his name. He hopes so, anyway. He certainly likes how it sounds coming from you.

"I'm almost there...can I cum, sir?" You ask, meeting his eyes.

"Not yet, Y/N. Hold it for me, just a bit longer." Martin replies firmly.

"O-okay..." You stutter, gasping slightly when you feel your orgasm about to sneak up on you. You try your best to hold it back, to obey Martin's orders. It's becoming increasingly difficult, however. Your thighs keep twitching, and a constant whine floods from your lips from keeping it all inside.

"Just a little more, I know you can do it. Be a good girl for me." He insists, increasing his pace ever so slightly to up the stakes.

"Fuck...sir, please...I want to be good for you. But I nee—" You beg, which is quickly interrupted by another intense shock. His fingers left you at the last second before he flicked the switch, but the painful waves seem to only extend your pleasure. You continue to moan until he presses the button to stop the electric current.

"I told you to wait, Y/N. Don't make excuses, and don't disobey me." He shoves his fingers back into you, and rapidly curls and thrusts them this time.

"Oh, fuck!" You cry out, tears pricking your eyes now. He's purposefully trying to make you break the rules, but you refuse to earn another shock anytime soon. You keep your orgasm tangled up in a quickly dissolving chain, waiting for him to give you the go ahead.

"Do you want to release, Y/N?" He asks flatly, peering down at you. He marvels at your resolve to follow his orders, he knows it's taking everything in you to hold on for him. What a strong little thing she is... he muses to himself.

"Yes! Please, sir! I want to cum so bad..." You exclaim, your bound hands helplessly clawing at the pillow beneath your head.

"Go ahead." He nods, giving you a small smile again.

"Fuck...Martin!" You moan loudly as your release takes over. Your thighs quake, and your insides clamp around Martin's fingers. The pleasure is so intense, like nothing you've ever experienced before. Holding off for so long has made your orgasm ridiculously powerful. You're blinded by bright white light that consumes your entire being, and you can't stop trembling and moaning for a good fifteen seconds. He watches this event unfold, his gaze drawn downwards when your arousal spills warmly into his hand. He takes his fingers out of you, grabbing a washcloth to wipe his hand with as you come down. You're left panting wildly, slathered in sweat that's dampened your hair and the bed beneath you.

"Was that enjoyable for you?" Martin asks, as if he didn't just witness you having the best orgasm of your entire life.

"Yes, sir. It was amazing." You gush, smiling uncontrollably at the utter bliss you feel inside.

"Good. I liked it quite a lot, too." He replies, and you hear the jingling of his belt opening. You open your eyes to see Martin undoing his pants. You watch hungrily as he exposes his clean white briefs, and the stiff cock sheathed inside them. He puts the slacks away, and comes back over to the bed. He makes sure you're paying attention, before slipping his underwear down his legs. His dick slaps against his stomach, the head red and swollen with need. You want to take him in your mouth, or to ride him, it doesn't really matter. You just want him inside you again, to make your fantasies a completed reality.

"Can I suck your cock, sir?" You ask cautiously, looking up at him with doe eyes.

"No, thank you. I've never liked that very much. But I think you want something else a bit more, don't you?" He questions you again, taking hold of his length and stroking it a couple of times.

"Yes, sir. I want you to fuck me." You say boldly, biting your lip.

"I ought to shock you again for that filthy mouth of yours." He threatens, but he's not really all that serious about it.

"Do you not like the things I say, sir?" You ask with a bratty pout, toying with him a little bit.

"I-I do. Much as I shouldn't, I really do." His tone falters, which clues you in to how much he immensely enjoys you saying dirty things.

"Do you want to fuck me, sir?" You continue with your own inquiries, hoping to drive him to slam his cock into you, or even shock you again for acting out of line. You're enjoying this far more than you'd truly expected, and it appears he is as well.

"Yes." He almost whispers.

"Do you want to make me scream your name?" You press on, testing the limits.

"Yes." Martin continues to rub himself as you speak. Slow and languid, not nearly enough to make him lose control. Just revving himself up for when he's deep inside you.

"How do you want me?" You ask again.

"What do you mean?" He replies, confused as to what you're referring to.

"Laying down? Hands and knees? On your lap? How do you want me?" You repeat yourself, your words dripping with lust.

"Oh, I see." Martin blushes slightly at his misunderstanding. He thinks it over a moment, before answering. "This way is fine...for now." He says, climbing onto the bed to join you now. He spreads your legs apart with his hands, tenting your knees and placing himself between them. He gives you another kiss, warming you up before the main event. His hands grab at your tits, massaging them roughly.

"Mmm." You moan against his mouth, wishing you could bury your hands in his hair and tug on it. His lips move lower down to your neck, and he brings a hand to rub against your clit for a moment. "Oh..." You whimper quietly.

"Are you ready?" He asks in your ear, ceasing his touch on your bundle of nerves. He takes hold of his cock, running his tip along your silk.

"Yes, sir. So ready...you have no idea." You reply, waiting for him to penetrate you. Without another word, he puts his head above yours to watch you as his dick slips inside you. "Oh, fuck." You exhale while he fills you up. He's the perfect size, reaching every inch of your soaked pussy flawlessly. "You're so big, sir." You compliment him once he bottoms out.

"Thank you. You're very...warm." He says, somewhat awkwardly. You're guessing that's his best attempt at talking dirty.

"Do I feel nice and tight inside? Am I wet enough for you?" You try to help him out, saying all the vulgar things on his behalf.

"Yes. You're perfect, Y/N." Martin rasps, slowly pulling out before slipping back in. He lets out a low groan at the slickness of your insides. He continues to thrust in and out at a very slow pace, similar to how his fingers were working inside you earlier. But you want more, you want him to rail you like he does in your dreams. You know he has it in him, but you're unsure how to say it without him shocking you again.

"Can you go faster, sir?" You ask politely.

"Not yet, Y/N. Patience." He says in warning, still moving so very slow. You swear he's just trying to make you squirm. You can't help your neediness, so you grind your hips to meet his thrusts. He pulls his cock out of you as a result, and takes hold of the remote to give you another shock.

"Shit!" You shout at the painful current going through your body once more. Your muscles seize up, and Martin just watches the helpless look on your face. He lets it go a little longer this time, making you afraid that you might pass out. But just before you're about to possibly lose consciousness, he turns it off.

"It appears you have a problem with listening." Martin growls, which only turns you on more.

"I'm sorry, sir. I only want you so bad, you feel so good inside me." You explain, the pitchy whine in your voice making his cock twitch. How can he resist you when you sound like that?

"You promise to be good for me? To listen to what I say?" He questions, his expression stone still despite his ever-growing hunger for you.

"Yes, sir. Please...I need you." You beg tearfully.

"Very well." He responds, before slamming his cock inside you.

"Fuck!" You squeal. He proceeds to hammer himself into you now, gripping your thighs with frustrated strength.

"Is this what you want, Y/N?" He asks while panting as he fucks you good and hard.

"Yes, sir. This is exactly what I want. You feel so good." You continue to moan with every thrust, wrapping your legs around him to keep him close. He allows you to do this, using you as leverage to keep pounding your pussy like his life depends on it.

"Should I go harder? Faster? Tell me what you want, Y/N." Martin offers, spellbound by your helpless noises.

"Fuck me harder, sir. I know you can...you're so strong...I can take it." You plead to him, bringing your bound hands down to rest around his neck. You have to hold him, to feel him in any way you possibly can.

"I'm sure you can. You're such a good girl for me." He chuckles, snapping his hips to drive into you with more force.

"Shit, I'm getting close again, sir..." You warn him, though you're not sure how well you can hold it this time. He's hitting your sweet spot with every motion of in and out, and you're sure he isn't far behind.

"You know the rules, Y/N." He burns, picking up the remote again. You watch him with frightened eyes, though your lips curl into a mischievous smile.

"Do it." You blurt the words out.

"What?" He asks, dumbfounded that you're actually asking him to shock you.

"Shock me. It feels really good, sir." You reply seductively.

"If that's what you really want..." He trails off, still thrusting roughly into you as he presses the button. It appears the collar works like a taser, sending an intense shock to you, without affecting him at all. You moan at the sensation, savoring the pain and pleasure mixing together inside your clenching belly. Your walls spasm around his dick, making him groan. That's another reason why you asked him to do it, you knew he'd like it, too. He lets the current go on for longer again, watching your face twist in ecstasy. "You really are something special, Y/N." He says, in awe of you. He flicks the switch to turn it off, and your body relaxes underneath his.

"I try my best." You quip, breathing far more heavily than you were before.

"Here, let's try hands and knees for the end, hm?" Martin suggests, quickly pulling out and rolling you onto your stomach. He pants erratically behind you, waiting for you to get on your knees.

"Mmm, yes, please." You hum, kneeling before him while arching your back. You lean on your elbows, your hands resting just below your head.

Martin takes a moment to look at you in this position, noting your readiness to take him once more. He can deduce that this is your favorite position, and as a man of science, he can understand the anatomical reason as to why. He takes hold of his cock, running his leaking tip along your folds to tease you again. He grunts at his sensitivity, needing to hold back himself so he can fully please you. He'd hate to leave a woman unsatisfied. "Ready?" He asks, barely pressing the head of his dick against your entrance.

"Yes, sir. Please, fuck me." You plead, fighting the reflex to back yourself into him.

"Well, I am partial to begging." He says with a light laugh, before shoving his length into you.

"Fuck, yes." You moan as he hits even better angles inside you from behind.

"More?" He asks, needing you to tell him exactly what you want. He loves how verbal you are, how unafraid you are of sounding so pathetic.

"Yes, sir. Fuck me hard and fast...I wanna cum on your huge cock." You're whimpering and teary-eyed again, but you can't possibly be bothered to care.

"Sure thing." He answers simply, grabbing either side of your waist. He pulls out, making your skin slap together loudly as he thrusts back in with force. You cry out, gripping what you can of the covers below you. It's hard to manage with your hands stuck together, but you try your damndest. Martin grunts very loudly as he continues to fuck you at the pace you asked for. You're almost there again, and he can feel it. He's right behind you, his stomach preparing to tense as his balls tighten.

"Can I cum, sir?" You ask through a moan. You can feel your arousal lubing him up with each stroke, some of it rolling down your inner thigh in warm drips.

"Not yet. Soon." He mumbles, driving himself as deep into you as humanly possible. Your insides are so snug around him now, threatening to strangle him altogether. He's looking forward to feeling you let go around him.

"Please, sir...please, please...please..." You repeat the words incoherently, they're the only things you can think to say. You're an absolute mess, holding your orgasm in so hard that it almost hurts. Your brain has turned to mush, and you know you can't keep it in forever.

"You've been a very good girl tonight, Y/N. Let it all go for me." He growls, sensing his own end taking him over.

"P-push the bu..." You trail off, unable to finish the sentence.

"What?" Martin asks, trying to figure out what you're saying.

"The button. Push...the...button." You force the words out, every syllable of which threatening to open the floodgates. But you want to feel that delicious shock as you cum, you just know it'll all be worth it.

"Of course, Y/N." He says breathlessly. He does as you ask, forcing his own climax back for the sake of you violently losing control around him. He presses the button, and you finally feel it wash over you.

"Martin!" You choke out his name as your body seizes up one last time. Your pussy clenches around his dick, yanking a loud groan from his throat.

"God—" He thrusts into you uncontrollably, his cum coating your insides messily. If you could flex your vocal chords right now, you'd scream at how good his sloppy bucking feels. You continue to tremble and convulse, releasing a small mess of juices from your pussy. The warm liquid soaks his cock, making him groan again. "Y/N, I—" He gasps, unable to believe how otherworldly you feel inside. He keeps thrusting through the pleasure, forcing your cum to mix and spill out onto your thighs and the bed.

You're on cloud nine in this moment, savoring every second of electric current pulsing through you, and every needy stroke Martin continues to make inside you. He finally turns off the collar, powering it off entirely. You slump against the bed, taking him with you as he still won't stop fucking your pussy. "Martin..." You moan, trying to warn him that he's gonna make you cum again if he doesn't let up.

"You feel so good, Y/N. I've never felt anyone like you..." He praises.

"G-gonna cum again..." You make a second attempt, but he doesn't seem to hear you. You've broken him, in a way, making him the desperate one now. You let him keep going, regardless of the fact that you're getting a little sore. His thrusts feel so good, and he seems to want to experience you clamping down on him one last time.

"One more, just one more...can you do that for me, Y/N?" He asks with desperation in his voice. His breath lands hotly on the back of your neck, his body sliding around on top of yours as you're both covered in sweat.

"Y-yes...I'll be so good for you, Martin. Make me cum." Your words are all the motivation he needs. He picks up his pace again, pounding you into the bed as he tries to give you another orgasm. You cry out over and over, waiting to feel ecstasy rush through you for the third time.

"That's it...just like that, Y/N. Good girl." He pants, feeling your walls fluttering again.

"Oh, shit...I'm gonna cum, sir. Can I cum, please?" You whimper.

"Y-Yes, you can..." He stutters, and you sense your high taking over once the words pass his lips.

"FUCK!" You scream, thighs quaking as you're rocked to the core again.

"Mmm, ah—" His breath catches in his throat as you soak his cock again, even more than last time. You spill down your thighs and his, every spasm pushing more fluid out of you. You almost start sobbing as your final high subsides, and he stills himself within you. He carefully pulls out, gazing at the sticky mess left between your legs. You lie still, trying to catch your breath. As you do so, Martin gets off the bed and unlocks the collar. He takes it away, putting it and the remote back in its case. He also unties your hands, checking for any bruises left on your wrists. Finding none, he retrieves a damp towel from the bathroom to clean you up with. "How are you feeling?" He asks as he wipes away the mess from your sore flesh.

"I'm great, Martin. That was so fucking good." You say softly, feeling completely exhausted now. Once he's done cleaning you up, he helps you sit up and redress, sans your panties. "Thank you." You say, standing to meet him once you're fully clothed.

"For what?" He asks curiously.

"For giving me what I've been dreaming about for weeks." You reply cheekily, giving him a short kiss. You suppose it's time for you to leave now, to go back home to your parents.

"You dreamt about me?" He questions, as if it's impossible for you to have done such a thing.

"Mmhmm, every night since the first day you came into the store. Shit, I've had to change my panties in the middle of the night so many times because of you." You giggle, playfully poking his chest.

"Right." He gives you a soft smile, unsure how to respond to that. "Well, I can have my driver drop you at home, if you like. Or the store, if your car is still there." He offers.

"The store is fine. Thanks." You reply, and he goes to a phone on the dresser, presumably to speak to the driver. He retrieves a robe to put on to escort you to the door after the brief call, tying a firm knot around his waist. 

"Come along, then." He gestures at the bedroom door, and you open it and head for the stairs. You go all the way down and to the front door, stopping for a moment. "What is it? Did you forget something?"

"No." You shake your head, lifting up your bag to show that you've got everything. "I just...if you ever wanted to do this again, I wouldn't say no." You end with a shrug, unsure he'll even consider it.

"I wouldn't be opposed to that." He answers, smiling a bit bigger for your benefit. Unfortunately, for your own safety, he can't do this again. If only you knew the kinds of things he's gotten himself caught up in these last few years, the awful things he's done in the name of 'science'. He can't put a sweet young thing like you at risk, no matter how amazing the sex is. But for now, he can let you think there's a chance, he can't bear to break your heart. You'll just need some time to forget about him, to move on to someone your own age. That's all. At least, he hopes so. He'd hate to have you come back here looking for him, when this isn't even his real home at all. It's all staged, sitting empty and waiting for him, or anyone else working in the lab, who needs a cover to blend in. It's a shame you fell for it so willingly, though he supposes that's kind of the point.

"Cool. Well, hopefully I'll see you in the shop again. Or around town." You say, going to him for one last kiss goodbye.

"Of course. I'll be around." But no, he really won't. He'll have to avoid your store like the plague now. What a shame, you've got such a wonderful selection of Chopin. He puts a hand on the small of your back, giving you the final kiss you're waiting for. He kisses you hard, wanting to sweep you off your feet one last time. You hum against him, wishing you didn't have to let go. But he makes the decision for you, and the regretful look on his face tells you he won't be coming to you again.

You're not stupid, you know this was probably a one-time thing anyway. It hurts to know he's lying to your face, but you're sure he has a good reason. You figured his vague answer of 'government' as his job meant something top secret, maybe even dangerous. You get it, truly, you do. And he doesn't need to know that you see right through him. Let him have his illusion, it'll only hurt more to shatter it.

"Bye, Martin." You give him a small wave, and go outside to the car that's waiting for you. It's a dead silent ride back to the record store, with the driver glancing back at you suspiciously a couple of times. He drops you off outside Waxed Out, and you walk down the street to the lot where you've parked your car. You get inside, turn the key, and drive home while replaying the exquisite moments you and Martin shared together. It'll be a while before you get over that man, and you don't mind that one bit. He was something special tonight, and you're sure he feels the same about you. At least he has your panties to remember you by.

August 10th, 1983

Dear diary,

I was right. Martin hasn't returned to the store, and I don't think he's ever going to. I get it, his work is probably too much to balance with hooking up with me and taking care of his kid, if he even has one. I still dream about him every so often, and we do all the things we did that night over and over again. I still wake up with soaked panties every time, but all it does is remind me that I'm never going to see him in that way again. I hardly see him around town, either. And the few times I have, he ignores me when I wave at him. It's like I don't exist, or at least, he turns away before I can see him look sad. I'd like to think that's what he's doing, anyway. I know, I know, this was only sex. Wild, crazy, kinky-as-fuck sex. But still, that's all it was. And that's all it needs to be.

As they say, onwards and upwards. Speaking of that, I've finally got my own place! No roommates or anything! It's totally cheap and doesn't look like a complete dump. And it's all mine. No more nosey parents, not after I move in there in a couple days. I've got my shit all packed up and ready to go. My freedom can't come soon enough, diary. Until then, I'm gonna get high and masturbate while thinking about Martin again. What can I say? That dick was something else...

[youngveinsworld]

a recap of the young veins' show at webster underground in connecticut on 1 april 2010

It's weird to consider former Panic at the Disco rockstars Ryan Ross and Jon Walker playing a venue so small. I’m not exaggerating when I tell you its about the size of a 2 car garage and not quite as wide. A ceiling so low its claustrophobic. The floor literally bounces when you walk on it, as if it's going to give way (which I presume someday it will, hope I’m not there).

7:30pm we walk in to the band first drum hit. and there right before me was Ryan Ross, still the baby faced young man you could spot a mile away holding a giant guitar and smiling.

This I have to stop and point out to you. When last I saw PATD (2008) we were stunned at how timid, scared and almost neurotic he appeared. Look at that old photo of him and the Magpie. He looks like an emaciated child wearing his grandmothers coat. At that meeting he was strained and really rather confused. Jon that day was more relaxed but aloof.

Flash forward 2 years and the boys are smiling, they’re happy, they don’t look overwhelmed at all. They banter (with each other, sorta made me feel bad for the other 3 in the band - they didn’t get much chit chat) almost as if there were an inside joke going on. April Fools perhaps?

The sound was terrible and I blame the venue, but what remained true if you strained through the feedback is the simple text I sent to Iman from the show: Ross was the Talent. Urie was the Face.

The music was light and fun with creative harmonies and interesting vocal shifts. They seemed to be enjoying themselves.

Although Jon felt compelled to complain he felt as if he had just had a bath and that it was too hot (dudes you’re not at the stadium tonight, you pulled up in a camper for fucks sake let's reel that in) he has great singing voice. That was a nice surprise.

Jon - "Well, our new album is coming out soon"

Ryan - "You mean our only album"

I guess he really did forget he was in a new band.

Mid-set they took the opportunity to do a nice arena style band introduction right down to the individual applause.

They didn’t really have room to move but they made do with what they had and they did so very well.

June 8th was the release date noted for the lp. I look forward to it now. I think it will have a summer feel to it, just a light background cruise sound. I hope anyway.

I’m stunned they don’t promote themselves as such (without exaggeration there were less than 100 people in that club when we finally got in). I’m beginning to think it's intentional.

I really liked them a lot. I liked the sound I liked the simplicity and I liked the smiles. There’s no Panic at the Disco, but there's new life in the Young Veins.

– adapted from this blog post

[simp999]

A New Home Ch. 5

Various Splatoon Manga x Skilled! Isekai'd Reader

Wc: 1.1k

Back to the start! Previous Next

It's been a long day of battles, and you're ready to crash on that damn uncomfortable bench. 

'Man, I should really get myself an apartment or something.'

Once you've situated yourself comfortably on said bench- as comfortable as a hardwood bench could be- you begin the think about tomorrow. 

'Aloha's battle with Goggles is supposed to go down at some point, right? Wasn't Mask just finishing up one of his battles at the same time? Yeah that's right, he complained about how energetic Aloha was or something.'

You're stuck in your own thoughts, contemplating your choices. You already know exactly how Aloha's battle goes, but you still have much to learn from his skills! On the other hand, you're still disappointed that the manga didn't show off how skilled the S4 really was. Getting destroyed by Team Blue first shot and all. Besides skull of course, but that battle wasn't even shown, just the outcome! How annoying. But oh, that's going to be such a fun game to watch! You can't wait to watch Team Blue get wrecked!... Not to be mean or anything, but you've had enough of the overpowered main character moments. 

You look up and realise that you probably looked crazy or at least a little weird when you spot somebody staring at you, big grin across your face. 

'Alright, cool it. But that's gonna be so fun~ But back to the choice at hand, who's battle do I go watch?'

You'd really love to see Mask destroy his opponent, it's said that he didn't even have to swing his roller once, how impressive! But he said in his battle with Goggles that swinging down and crushing his opponents doesn't count, so does he do that? Does his team do all the inking? Ugh, so many questions.

'Wait a sec, I'm in the Splatoon manga. That means I can probably watch some off-the-record battles at some point! And they’re famous, so I bet some of their big battles are caught on video.’  

…So now what? Who's battle is more likely to get filmed. Or rather, who's would you rather see up close? Mask is technically stronger than Aloha and Aloha's definently a more take a video and pictures of everything kinda guy, so maybe Mask?

'But they're both really good teams! Y'know what? I'll just try to catch both of their battles. Tomorrow'll be pretty eventful.'

It'll have to be planned out and executed right, but you're sure you can catch both battles, if you do this right!

You look down at the uncomfortable bench below you, sighing. It can't really be helped, another night sleeping on this bench won't hurt.

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

You shield your eyes from the bright sun, it seems you were able to sleep in a bit today. Your weapon and bag are intact, so that's a bonus. You shrug your bag onto your shoulder and grab your weapon by the strap Sheldon gave you, and make your way over to Inkopolis Tower to see what time the big battles are at. There's a big screen on there stating what time Corocoro Cup battles are at, so you get to see that Aloha and Goggle's official battle starts at 10:44 am. As for the Cyan Team, it says 10:46 am. It shouldn't be too difficult to get from Mahi Mahi to Walleye Warehouse. A couple long super jumps and you'll go from one to the other in no time. 

'Alright, I'll leave right after Pink Team's Disco Ball Dance, and I should catch the last little bit of Cyan Team's battle.'

You make your way over to Ammo Knights in the meantime, sitting down in the training area and taking the time to clean your weapon thoroughly.

It doesn't take long before a yellow-green inkling with a Gold Dynamo Roller walks in with the same intentions as you, so you turn your back to him. 

'I really can't get a break, can I? These main characters are everywhere!'  You take a look down at your precious weapon and inspect it, 'Well, I guess I'm bound to run into them if I act like them. I probably got this whole 'treating my weapon like my own child' thing from Rider anyways.'

Recalling how you began a manual like Army's, you're starting to see a pattern.

You finish putting your weapon together, doing a quick durability test and making sure the ink goes through smoothly. Once you've made sure it's running better than before, you look at the clock on the wall and note that it's 11:30. Time to get going. You make your way over to Mahi Mahi Resort, trying to find the best seats that are still close to an exit. You place your weapon down to take your manual out, closing your bag up and making sure it's ready to go as soon as you can leave. You watch the Pink Team get to Mahi Mahi and start sunbathing and hanging out a couple minutes early.

'That's right, Pink Team got there early and was waiting for the Blue Team.' 

Aloha spots you in the barely-existent crowd, winking and waving at you. You pretend not to notice, checking the time on your phone. 11:41. You spot an inkling a couple seats over wave at him excitedly. 

'Good, that checks out.' 

Then you hear the cries of the Blue Team as Goggles drags them into the non-inkling-safe water.

Oh, and there goes Aloha, underestimating his opponents. Honestly, you probably would too if you were up against the Blue Team. 

'Aloha really does talk like a party animal, huh? I can barely understand him sometimes.'

The match begins, Specs and Goggles are off to a bad start. Aloha points out that his team never fights and doesn't bother with practicing, which makes you slightly cringe 'cause how are you supposed to get any better without practice? 

'You do you, dude. Goggles'll teach ya why you should practice.' You snicker, knowing the outcome of this battle. It's honestly pretty impressive that they manage to lose against Team Blue, they've definitely got some real skill behind that laid-back attitute. Aloha continues to amaze you will his aglitily and flexibility, there's no way you'll be able to get to his level without massive amounts of training.

And there it is, Pink team's Disco Ball Dance! Wow, they're all pretty agile! Better get some aiming-related training in if you ever plan on winning against these guys.

'Diver can break dance? Cool. And that's my cue to leave. Team Cyan, here I come!' 

You quickly hoist your bag over your shoulder and grab your weapon, and make your way to Walleye Warehouse to catch the end of Team Cyan's battle. 

Next Part

Apr.9.23