#but with a bad case of stage fright

[senipsenipsenip]

The Pines family sat at the table, quietly eating their breakfast, when Mabel slammed her hands on the table and shouted “KERMIT THE FROG”.

Dipper leapt forward to right his orange juice glass, gathering nearby napkins to sop up the puddle. “What?”

“Kermit the frog! He plays the banjo!”

“Yyyyes?”

Ford raised his hand. “Who’s Kermit the Frog?”

Stan snapped his head up from his plate. “Who’s Kermit the Frog? The Muppets, Pointdexter, you were around for The Muppet Show. They had a movie and everything.”

Ford frowned. “Muppets.”

“Yeah, they’re a riot! There’s this bear whose got some great puns and this pig who really know how to throw a punch. You’d love it, they’ve even got a scientist!”

Ford raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t realize you were such a fan of children’s television.”

“Children?!”

Dipper stirred his cereal. “I’m just impressed you remember all that. Yesterday you forgot you were married.”

“That’s because The Muppets are forever!” Mabel exclaimed.

“Wait, Stanley you were married?”

“Yep. Twice. Actually, unless I’m forgetting a divorce, I might still be married.”

“You didn’t,” Mabel chirped. “I’d have it on my Romance Chart if you did. You’ve missed a lot of anniversaries.”

“So has he!” Stan argued. “I’m not the only bad husband here!”

Ford spluttered. “Husband?”

Dipper frowned. “I think we’re getting a little too far away from why Mabel screamed Kermit the Frog and knocked my orange juice over.”

Mabel nodded. “Right, so, I was thinking of Mr. McGucket -

“Stanley you have a husband?“

“I was thinking of Mr. McGucket,” Mabel interrupted. “And how he could maybe help around the Shack. And he plays banjo! He could play banjo and people could put money in his lil banjo case like a real musician.”

At the mention of money, Stan leaned forward.

“But like, no one knows banjo music,” Mabel continued. “So I was like, maybe pop hits banjo? But then BOOM! Kermit the Frog! People love that frog. He could play the rainbow song. He’d be a hit!”

“Interesting,” Stan muttered. “Preying on people’s nostalgia to milk them for cash. I love it!”

Ford hummed. “Actually, that’s not a bad idea, Mabel. Activities like playing musical instruments have been proven to help patients with Alzheimers and dementia. Not that Fiddleford’s condition has the same root cause, but it may prove beneficial to memory recovery.”

“Eugh, don’t ruin this for me.”

“If playing an instrument helps with memory loss, maybe Grunkle Stan should learn an instrument,” Dipper suggested.

“Ooo!” Mabel squealed. “What about guitar? Or the piano? OH!” She clutched Stan’s arm with a fervor. “The triangle!”

Ford grimaced. “Maybe not that one.”

“Sorry, kid. I’m not exactly a music guy,” Stan shrugged out of Mabel’s grasp. “Let’s leave that to the professionals.”

Mabel frowned, but let the topic go.

Ford stood from the table. “Well, I happen to be visiting Fiddleford this afternoon. I can broach the topic and see what he thinks.”

Fiddleford, as it turns out, loved the idea. To the surprise of everyone, Fiddleford admitted that he had always wanted to play in a jugband when he was younger, but could never get over his stage fright enough to audition for the local band. Then he went off to college and then…everything else.

“Maybe I zapped away that scared bit enough to play!” he had cackled, knocking at the side of his head with his knuckles.

It was settled. “Fiddlin’ Fridays at the Mystery Shack with Fiddleford McGucket”. Dipper tried to point out the title didn’t make sense since it was a banjo, not a fiddle. Stan argued that “customers are suckers for alliteration”. The set up was just Fiddleford dragging an old rocking chair onto the porch and opening up his banjo case. Mabel had made a large glittery banner, but it was quickly absconded by Fiddleford’s raccoon.

“Tell your wife to give me back my banner!” Mabel had yelled, chasing the raccoon into the bushes.

“Ex-wife,” Fiddleford sighed sadly. “Apparently I was too emotionally available.”

Ford pulled at his hair. “Did everyone get married without telling me?”

“Excuse me?” A voice piped up. Fiddleford and Ford turned to see a little boy standing at the bottom of the porch. He was dressed in hiking clothes that were obviously new. In the distance, a young woman was unstrapping a baby from its seat in an SUV. Obviously city folk coming to the “wilderness” for the first time.

“Are you a real hillbilly?” The boy asked. Suddenly the door slammed open, Mr. Mystery striding through, eyepatch in place.

“Sure is!” Stan grinned. “Our very own genuine hillbilly just waiting to play you a tune! All you gotta do is put some of your mom’s money in his case there.”

The little boy’s eyes widened, turning around to race towards his mother.

“Stanley,” Ford admonished. “Fiddleford isn’t some show monkey to throw money at.”

“During work hours he is.” Stan turned to Fiddleford. “So, did Mabel teach you that song she was so excited about?”

Fiddleford sat frozen, watching the little boy yank at his mothers pants to try and get her attention, the baby beginning to fuss.

“Well…” Fiddleford cleared his throat. “Some good news and bad news fellas.”

Ford furrowed his brows. “What is it?”

“Good news is, my mind ain’t all broken.” Fiddleford hugged his banjo and turned to look up at Ford. “Bad news is I knows it ‘cause I still got stage fright.”

Stan scoffed. “Stage fright? C’mon it’s one kid and a couple o’ city slickers who would probably think you playing three wrong notes and spitting is ‘authentic’.”

“Stanley, be supportive.”

“I am! Look I’ve been at this job forever. All you gotta do is smile and if something goes wrong, you blame a ghost or something. They eat that up.”

Fiddleford shook his head. “But this is music. If’n I mess up music, ‘specially somethin’ they know. Music is real special to people, I can’t spoil it.”

Ford knelt down next to Fiddleford’s chair. “You don’t have to play that song Fiddleford. You don’t have to play at all.”

Fiddleford looked anxiously between Ford and the family. It seemed the little boy had finally gotten his mother’s attention and was excitedly pointing toward the porch.

“I…” Fiddleford shook his head. “I can’t let the little ‘uns down. ‘Specially not those ones.” As he said this, he gestured with his chin towards the other end of the porch where Dipper and Mabel sat bickering in lawn chairs. Mabel had returned from her raccoon chase covered in twigs and holding a surprisingly docile raccoon. Dipper was leaning away from the pair while trying to convince Mabel to stop feeding it gummy worms before it developed a taste for human food and tried breaking into the Shack.

Ford's gaze drifted to the twins. "Alright," he relented. "But you still don't have to play Mabel's song."

Fiddleford bowed his head.

"Yet!" Ford offered. "Not yet. She'll understand I'm sure."

Fiddleford frowned, looking unconvinced.

"Of course not yet!" Stan interjected. "You can't go playing the grand finale right out of the gate! You gotta warm 'em up first, keep 'em wanting more." Stan slapped his hand on Fiddleford's back. "If you give 'em what they want right away, they won't come back! Hold that one off until tomorrow or...uh...next week. Tease it or something."

Stan had started rubbing the back of his neck with his other hand as he spoke, a tell Ford was quick to recognize. It was the same one he did when he would "begrudgingly" let Mabel choose the movie for movie night or let Dipper rope him into another game of Dungeons, Dungeons, and More Dungeons. Covering the most vulnerable part of his body while he let his emotions go soft.

Fiddleford seemed to perk up at Stan's words.

"Well," Fiddleford offered. "I do know some proper jugband music. Only, it don't have the same ring to it without a jug."

"We've got a jug!" Mabel cheered from the other side of the porch. It seemed the raccoon argument had reached enough of a truce that the twins were once again paying attention to the concert. "I used to keep pond water in it, it's in the kitchen!" She hopped off of her chair, lugging the racoon along with her like it was a rather expensive lap cat.

Dipper followed her. "Why did you have a jug of pond water?"

"Because, dummy, if I met a frog prince he would need something in the shack to remind him of home."

"Aren't you supposed to turn him into a person though?"

Whatever Mabel's retort was to be was cut off by the door swinging shut.

"There ya go," Stan grumbled. "You're getting your jug. Just in time too." He gestured toward the SUV. The mother was walking toward the Shack, one hand holding the baby, the other gripping tightly to the little boy's hand. The little boy gripped a few dollars in his fist, eyes alight with excitement.

Fiddleford looked frantic. "I can't sing and play the jug at the same time!" He gripped at his hat, pulling it down over his ears.

Ford sighed. "Then don't play the jug."

"It won't be the same!" Fiddleford shook his head. "A jugband without a jug that's...that's like a body with no heartbeat!"

The door swung open and Mabel emerged with an old ceramic jug.

"Here it is!" she exclaimed. "And it only sort of smells like pond scum."

"I don't think that will be necessary," Ford smiled gently. "It seems Fiddleford can't play both simultaneously."

Mabel frowned. "But it's a jugband. It's in the name!"

"How about we wait another day," Ford offered, patting Fiddleford awkwardly on the back. "Maybe someone in town will join you."

"Oh for Pete's sake, give it to me." Stan snatched the jug out Mabel's hand, sniffing at the top and giving a grimace.

Fiddleford stopped pulling at his hat, peeking out from under the brim. "You'll play?"

Stan grunted. "I'm not missing out on good money just because you have a case of the heebie jeebies. Besides, how hard can it be? It's like blowing on the top of a beer...er...I mean soda bottle."

Dipper crossed his arms. "Grunkle Stan, we know what beer is."

"Not from me you don't."

Mabel squealed. "It's happening! Grunkle Stan is learning an instrument!"

"It's not an instrument, Pumpkin. It's dishware."

"It's a scrapbookortunity!"

Mabel dashed into the house once more, leaving Dipper to grin at their Grunkle Stan.

The family was only a few yards away now. Fiddleford looked between Stan, Ford, and Dipper, and straightened up in his seat.

"Alright. Alright!" He clapped his hands together. "Stanley, you get down here with me, otherwise your feet are gonna get mighty sore from standing." He yanked at Stanley's hand until he sat beside the rocking chair with a grumble.

"Now when I tap my foot," Fiddleford instructed. "You blow on the jug. One short note at a time." Fiddleford tapped his foot in demonstration. "You got that?"

Stanley rolled his eyes. "Gee, I don't know. Seems pretty complicated for the guy without a PhD."

Mabel burst through the door, camera clutched in her hands. "Got it!"

"Excuse me?"

The little boy stood on the porch, approaching the banjo case with far more trepidation than before. Eyes darting between the assembly, he dropped a few dollars in the case.

"Is this enough to play a song?"

Fiddleford didn't bother looking at the money. He turned his gaze to Stanley, who shrugged and raised the jug to his lips.

Fiddleford grinned. "You know ‘Boodle Am Shake’?"

The little boy shook his head.

"Well you're about to!" And with that he was off.

By Fiddleford's standards, it wasn't a horribly complicated tune. Ford had heard him pluck out more complex riffs while waiting for the coffee pot in their dorm room to brew. But Fiddleford was smiling. His shoulders had dropped from around his ears, and he was nodding at the little boy to tap his feet along with him. Ford hid his smile behind his hands as he watched Stanley, eyes focused on Fiddleford's bare foot with as much attention as one would give to diffusing a bomb. Next to him, Mabel was snapping pictures of the pair. Dipper stood on his other side, wearing the small smile he tended to get when feeling introspective. Ford laid his hand on Dipper's shoulder, and Dipper leaned into the touch.

The mother was smiling at her little boy, her baby having finally stopped fussing. Maybe it wasn't the grand attraction Mabel had planned, but Ford thought it was worth far more than those few dollars anyway. Nothing could be worth more than his family standing around him, his closest friend singing again.

I know this song, it don't mean a doggone thing. Just do that good old Charleston swing. When you sing...

[phoenixeclipse-lmkau]

so another crumb, might not be accurate to your idea of reader, so bear with me

imagine a reader, who likes to sing, but HATES doing it in front of people. there is no sign of it, no singing, no humming, nothing around people. she will only sing if she thinks she is alone.

and one of the days spirit goes off to get to find food, reader hums a lil tune, because its only her and the cubs around, and animals aren't people.

this develops into a habit whenever the cubs are alone with reader until one day, after many false starts, reader starts to sing. the cubs love it, a song/secret just for them that spirit doesn't get to see. perhaps reader will even sing them to sleep if they're lucky.

but, after the curse breaks, well.

they're people not cubs now.

and reader knows about shapeshifting, so now every animal might be a person in disguise.

and reader hates singing in front of people.

maybe it was because of a bad experience, perhaps she didn't want to make noise and take up space, maybe its a bad case of stage fright, maybe its just some sort of instinct, but whatever it is, reader wont budge.

no matter how much they beg, plead or threaten, reader wont sing for them. reader wont even sing when left alone in the forests of flower fruit mountain. they know of macaque after all, and his ears.

but every so often, when the mountain is quiet in the dead of the night, and not a single soul can be heard, fragments of a quiet humming voice can be heard. it never goes on for too long, but it makes the listener wonder what it would sound like.

its the only thing the monkey duo gets to listen to, after turning back. while they would never want to go back, they do miss those fragile moments sometimes.

macaque is a bit more lucky in this regard. not even the slightest sound will escape him, but reader explicitly avoids singing because of him. only fragments will remain

i hope this crumb is as good as the last?

Yes yes yes!! Let me have it!! I love this!! After having a long day this is just what I needed!

Omg! Yes, actually I love the idea of Reader liking to sing but is too afraid to share her singing with anyone else.

Wukong and Macaque knowing that they are the only ones to hear it? Oh now, everyone else better pray they don't hear her sing. They are possessive and depending on who hears it other than them? May very well end up dead.

Now, not cubs or a few specific people (such as Spirit. She's safe from most of their wrath because of her relation to Reader)

They would be desperate to get her to sing again. They would do anything... well almost anything.

___

"Freedom," you said calmly, your eyes shifting to the side.

"What?" Wukong was the first to speak his eyes widening at the word.

He had to let go of your arms, which he had been gently holding. He didn't want to hurt you, but the rage that swelled in his chest almost made him hurt your arms.

"I said... I'll sing if you give me my freedom," you were quiet, your voice timid as you made your 'demand.'

"Darling you do have freedom. You can travel anywhere on Flower Fruit Mountain that you want,” Macaque spoke up as he brushed your hair out of your face.

You looked at him, his face held a warm and soft smile. With a frown you shook your head. “Freedom, I want to go home.”

As soon as you said the word home both of the monkey demons in front of you growled harshly. You immediately took a step back only to be pulled back towards them as they held you like you were about to disappear. A shiver ran down your spine as you looked at them with fear.

“We are not letting you go, ever.”

Just like that their desperation for the simpler times when you would sing to them in private or sing them to sleep caused an argument. They didn’t want to let you go, they would never let you go. No matter how much you wanted your freedom. To them you had freedom to travel around the island, safe where the monkey demons of the mountain would watch over you.

“Leave me alone,” You muttered looking downcast.

“But-,” Wukong started before storming out of the room.

Macaque looked at you sadly before nodding and following, “We’ll be here if you need anything.”

At least you could depend on that. If you wanted privacy they’d leave you alone. If you wanted food, they’d give you anything. They spared no expense to get you anything you wanted, except for your freedom. Looking down you wiped a tear away from your eyes. This was one of the few times that you’d completely closed them out.

It was over an hour later before you managed to force yourself to leave the room. You slowly opened the dark, oak wood door way that was carved with delicate roses, something that Wukong thought you would like. You couldn’t help the weak smile at that, before pushing the thought away. These monkey demons your Peaches and Plums were the ones who kidnapped you and forced you to live on their island. But they were kind to you, they gave you everything you could ask for except for your freedom.

“Your Majesty,” A sweet and small voice spoke up, one of the island cubs.

“Oh… hello there sweety,” You couldn’t help the smile at the small and very cute cub. A dark brown cub with blue eyes, and wore a pink hanfu.

“The Monkey King and His Warrior would like you to eat with them. If that would be alright, they said they’ll send your food to your room if not,” The cub said smiling, blissfully unaware of the reasons behind this encounter.

Your heart squeezed at the thought. Even while they constantly craved for your attention, for your touch they would keep their distance until you came to them or called out to them. You smiled, kneeling down to pick up the cub who chirped happily as you did so. Even though many of the monkey demons seemed to hate you when you first arrived they had all calmed down when not only their Kings adored you but the four generals had also watched over you. You were now adored by the island and none of them wanted you to leave.

“I’ll attend,” You smiled, knowing that the cub would likely not like it if you rejected the invitation. No doubt she was sent because the two Kings knew of your ever bleeding heart.

As much as you wanted to not talk to them just for the foul play as you thought it was, you couldn’t help but cuddle the small cub in your arms. You received happy chirps and chitters from it before you let her go to run off to tell the kings. They would meet you before you even made it to the dining hall within the stone palace. With a sigh you walked on through the large stone palace. Your hanfu (a gift from the monkey demons) slightly dragging on the floor behind you. A gorgeous gown made of red silk with golden thread embroidered throughout the fabric in rose patterns.

“Darling,” Macaque muttered as he stepped out of your shadow.

You barely glanced at him as he wrapped a hand around your waist and gave you a soft kiss on the cheek. He nuzzled his cheek against yours afterwards which you didn’t fight. As much as you hated to admit it you didn’t mind the kisses and nuzzles that the two monkey king’s gave you. Even if they still terrified you with their nature at times.

“Macaque,” You responded calmly.

“Are you feeling better?” He asked with a small smile, his tail wrapping around your waist protectively too. He acted as though you may disappear but there wasn’t much pressure that would make it painful.

You didn’t get the chance to respond when Wukong suddenly came around the corner sitting atop his golden colored cloud. “Darling!~ You’re feeling better!”

You were pulled into a hug by the monkey king, a kiss on the opposite cheek that Macaque kissed. They loved showering you with affection, especially after you three got into an argument. They wouldn’t change. At least not now.

So this ended up sadder than I planned… oops. But you gave me the angst to work with, can I blame you anon? Nah, I’m the one who wrote this part. Anyways thank you for the noms!! I really do love reading these. Sorry for slow replies but I do love writing these extra little scenes.

Now that I look at it, it kinda went off topic of the singing… Eh oh well. I’d like opinions if possible! Plus kudos to this anon I loved reading this!! I love these crumbs, the tasty noms!!

Be careful, I might start calling you Crumb or Cookie Anon hehe~

[the-s1lly-corner]

If requests for Tropes are still open can I please ask for prompts 36 46 and 20 with Astro?

Prompts 36 46 20 w/ Astro

Mmm I really really wanna try buttered noodles I keep hearing about them... maybe I'll make them tomorrow for lunch

Prompts: nightmares, head rest, dancing

Notes: gn toon reader, short post, written on mobile, you're the one having the nightmares, pre game, astro struggles with energy and fatigue

CWs: none

DANCING

NIGHTMARE

The moment he hears you're having nightmares he's instantly going to try to make it stop- sending all sorts of good dreams your way

If the nightmares are particularly bad he directly asks what you want to see in your sleep as a little pick me up to hopefully make you feel better

Wakes you up as soon as he's woken from your squirming- tucks you close against him under his blanket... four arms make embraces easier and more secure...

HEAD REST

You become his rest when you're both sitting next to each other or cuddling... or both..! He can't help but nod off when he's with someone he loves and feels safe around- not to mention it's demanding being a main...!

His blanket is nice and soft, too, same with his hat so really should you complain..? It's free snuggles...!

He's actually not all that embarrassed about it- sure a little flustered in the beginning but he's not going to let his little habit eat him alive

Actually you've taken to offering to let him lay on your chest or lap instead of your shoulder so he's more comfortable!

He... doesn't much care for dancing but he would at least try for you...! It's not that he's embarrassed...well... okay... he is... IF there's other people around- but it's not because he's being seen with you..! Of course not! It's because of the whole.. being perceived thing... stage fright even if off stage

No, a lot of it is because he's almost constantly tired. A lot of dancing between the two of you is gentle swaying back and forth as you hold onto each other

He sometimes pulls you under his blanket if that's the case

[vixenvtuber]

hey! huge fan here! uhm, i dont know if you have any experience with theatre acting, but i do have a question in case you're able to give some advice.

uhm so im in the little mermaid play where i live at. i have like one line that i say on my own. i know it, but when i get up there, i cant say it. we're still rehearsing btw. do you have any advice? if so, it would be much appreciated!

-a socially anxious, mentally ill fan

yeah i've done theater before, and yeah, stage fright sucks so bad, i can't blame you

some people give advice like "picture the audience in their underwear", or "pretend the audience isn't there" but that never worked for me

for me, i did something that's probably bad mentally (lol), but it worked-- i told myself "you're gonna feel like shit if you fuck this up, just say your lines"

and that usually worked lmao. i was more afraid of blowing it than i was of the stage fright

might not work for you if you don't have the exact same brand of mental illness that i do, but it might be worth a shot! i wish you the best of luck. theater's a lot of fun once you get past the stage fright

[anonymousewrites]

Nature of the Human Soul (Book 1) Chapter Fourteen

Platonic! Hazbin Hotel x Teen! Reader

Father Figure! Alastor x Teen! Reader

Chapter Fourteen: Show Goes On

Summary: The Hotel rebuilds and moves on from the fight.

Mouse Note: Thank you for reading Nature of the Human Soul (Book 1)! I hope you all enjoyed because I loved writing this. I'm so excited for Hazbin Hotel to return because I have a lot of ideas for this series, and I'm excited to continue. But for now, thank you for everything! If you like my writing, please check out my other Father Figure series!

           “Noooo!” screamed Lute as Adam fell. She ran to Adam’s side, and (Y/N) backed off, narrowing their eyes in case she tried anything. “Sir! Stay with me, sir! Adam!” He was gone.

           “It’s over,” said Charlie, holding Vaggie to her side protectively.

           Lucifer loomed over Lute, and her eyes widened in fright. “Take your little friends and go home! Please.”

           Lute narrowed her eyes and picked up Adam’s halo. Furious at having no other choice, she glared at the demons before calling out to the exorcists. “Retreat. All exorcists fall back.”

           The angels rose into the air, fleeing back through the portal to heaven.

           Lucifer, pleased, turned to the hotel group. “So…who’s up for pancakes?”

           Everyone, bloody and tired, stared at him.

l

            “Good evening, I’m Katie Killjoy,” said the news report later that night.

            “And I’m—”

            “No one gives a shit who you are, Tom,” said Katie. “Breaking news: extermination day is canceled! Charlie Morningstar managed to fend off the angelic attack with more than just nice words. In an unseen turn of events, our demonic head honcho Lucifer stepped in to save his daughter’s ass in the last moment. We’re also hearing reports that Adam, leader of the Angelic Legions, first man, and totally fuckable bad boy, has been slain by a filthy gardening demon or some shit like that. The kid said, quote, ‘I hate cameras, and TV here sucks, go away’ before threatening our crew! What an asshole! Anyway, congrats to Charlie and her crew for not being totally fucking useless for once.”

l

            Charlie held Keekee as she looked over the rubble that used to be the Hazbin Hotel. They’d lost so much, so many people. “Oh, there, there, it’s…” She sighed. “It’s okay.” She tried to believe it herself, but it was difficult.

            Angel smiled at her as he held Fat Nuggets. Charlie managed to smile back and took a step towards him. She found herself in front of the “Happy First Week!” sign she’d made for Pentious. Her heart ached at his loss. Vaggie put her hands on Charlie’s shoulders comfortingly.

(Charlie) “He did it for us, The ultimate sacrifice. He gave me his trust, And look how we pay the prince.”

            Tears gathered in her eyes. She had failed her friends. Because she hadn’t been strong enough, they had gotten hurt, killed.

(Charlie) “This bloodshed could have been avoided, If I convinced heaven to work together. I took a hotel, and I destroyed it, I know I could have done better, better, Instead of letting you down.”

            Lucifer put a hand on his daughter’s shoulder and smiled at her.

(Lucifer) “Come on little lady, why the frown? In the last ten thousand years, you’re the first one to change this town, You can do this, Now I know it, For your story has just begun, You can’t quit now, Hell, you owe it, There’s still damage to be undone, You’ve changed my mind, You’ve touched their hearts.”

            Charlie looked around as her friends approached with a smile.

(Lucifer) “Found the good in souls gone bad, The stage is wrecked, the crowd is gone, But by God Charlie, The show it must go on!”

            Her friends gathered around Charlie.

(Vaggie, Cherri, (Y/N), Angel, Husk, Niffty) “We can do this, We can build it! Best hotel that you’ve ever seen! Twice the bedrooms, We can fill it!” (Lucifer) “With more sinners than you can dream!” (Lucifer and Vaggie) “It starts with you!” (Vaggie, Cherri, (Y/N), Lucifer, Angel, Husk, Niffty) “You know it’s true, Fulfill your destiny!”

            They reached out their hands. Wiping her tears and smiling, Charlie stood and took her father’s hand as the group came together for a hug.

(Charlie) “So long as I’ve got all of you with me!”

            And so, the cleanup and work began. It was tough going, but everyone pitched in, and the hotel began to come together better than before.

(Niffty) “To build a hotel, I think we need some brick and lumber!” (Lucifer) “Good thing we’re in Hell, check out this little magic number.”

            He snapped his fingers, and the supplies appeared.

(Angel) “Start with foundation.” (Lucifer) “A remedial creation for me.”

            The foundation came together in a single spell.

(Niffty, Angel, Lucifer) “It’s as easy as can be!”

            Soon, the hotel was getting decorated, rooms ready to be stayed in.

(Charlie) “No time for cryin’, We got a lot of work to do and, We gotta try and make the best of what’s in ruins.” (Vaggie) “New coat of paint!” (Husk) “New lights across the marquee!” ((Y/N)) “With a little sorcery!”

            They waved a hand, and plants grew up around the hotel, decorating it with nature amongst the barren city that Pride usually was.

            Finally, the hotel was put back together, with a statue of Dazzle outside. Charlie smiled at the painting of Pentious and the Egg Bois going up in the foyer to honor his memory. The memories of who they lost would never be forgotten as a new era of the Hazbin Hotel approached.

(All) “We can do this!” (Charlie) “We can do this!” (All) “We’ll be better!” (Charlie) “We’ll be better!” (All) “Though redemption may take a while.” (Charlie) “Though it may take a while.” (All) “Wayward sinners, clear their ledger!”

            They came together for a hug, and a familiar face popped out of the shadows.

(Alastor) “And we’re doing it with a smile!”

            (Y/N) grinned. He was healed and back with them. He had survived, too.

(Charlie) “We’ll make a difference, wait and see.” (Charlie and Vaggie) “We’re gonna do this, you and me.” (All) “And then tomorrow it will be, A fuckin’ happy day in Hell!”

            The Hazbin Hotel was open for business.

l

            (Y/N) walked through the hotel to the new wing dedicated to Alastor’s broadcasts. Obviously, it was placed on the opposite side from Lucifer’s apple-themed wing. They paused at the door of the radio and knocked.

            “Alastor?” they called out.

            The door was opened by a shadow, and (Y/N) stepped inside. Alastor was standing over the controls of the new radio, examining everything.

            “Do you like it?” asked (Y/N), slightly nervous.

           Yes, they had faced Adam, but this was…different. It was a different type of encounter. With a fight, (Y/N) knew what it felt like to suffer, to go through pain, so they could handle that. With friendship, (Y/N) had very little experience, so they weren’t sure how to deal with it.

           Alastor turned to face them. “It seems Charlie did a good job ensuring this was up to my standards. My broadcasts will be quality, as usual.”

           “Charlie didn’t make it. Well, she helped, but I, uh, I did it,” said (Y/N).

           Alastor paused, and his grin, unbidden, widened. “You did?”

           (Y/N) nodded. “I saw your tower was affected when Adam hurt you, so when we rebuilt the hotel, I made sure there was something for you to come back to.”

           “I hadn’t expected to have a broadcast tower at the hotel,” said Alastor.

           “Do you like it?” asked (Y/N).

           “I do,” said Alastor honestly.

           (Y/N) brightened. “I’m glad! And I’m glad you’re alright. Adam did a lot of damage to the hotel, killed Pentious, and hurt you pretty badly.”

           “It will take more than that to kill the Radio Demon,” said Alastor, but the unfortunate truth was that he had nearly died.

           “I faced him,” said (Y/N) suddenly.

           Alastor paused. “Oh?”

           “Yeah, I fought Adam. It didn’t go that well for me, either.” They grinned at him. “But I killed him. In the end, I killed him.” They stood proud in their strength and determination. Yes, (Y/N) had nearly fallen to Adam and Lucifer had really defeated him, but dealing the killing blow had given (Y/N) so much satisfaction.

           Alastor looked at (Y/N), and he cursed every part of him that still had some humanity since he felt something as they smiled at him. It wasn’t what he felt when Rosie laughed alongside him and teased him, but it held a familiar warmth. Although he had begun by seeing something in (Y/N) that reminded him of himself from oh-so long ago, Alastor couldn’t help but look at (Y/N) and just see them, now. It wasn’t them being like him, even if it still began there, but it was more.

           “I wouldn’t expect anything less of my protégé,” said Alastor, unable to keep the fondness completely out of his voice.

           Alastor was falling victim to all of the weaknesses he wanted to eliminate within himself.

           And (Y/N)? Well, the Nature Demon stood tall. They were growing into all the strength they had ever wished for.

Taglist:

@kyalov

@pandaquick

@boredwithlifeatthispoint

@jaytheaceenby

@paastaboi

@bettybabys

@gxdoesstuff

@grippleback-galaxy

@just-here-reading

@dmitrytherat

@a-small-tyrant

@marxo5

@rory-cakes

@andsoigotabutterfly

@theblueslytherin

@romyoia

@ray-rook

@thereeallink

@pandaquick

@funkyexistence

@theyaremorethanjustfictional

@lanxianschoenheit

@justyourfriendlyneighbourhood1

@ringsofpersonti

@futureittomainn

@enderpearltv

@oo0lady-mad0oo

@falsemain

@a-huge-bi-nerd

@lost-in-the-hellaverse

@tagthetrekkie

@amberforest08

@picklehat3r

@lunalixya

@rl800

@crystal-freak24

[theladyheroine]

Tada!! After hours of trying to do shading, I finally finished! Honestly this took less time than I thought it would but it was so fun to try this! Behold my NSR Sona! Please click for better quality, Ty!

❥ She’s an indie popstar that appeared when BBJ started their revolution. She was against NSR’s discrimination and believe they didn’t provide enough for its civilians. However, instead of fighting other districts, she operates under a persona & throws outdoor concerts to spread awareness.

❥ As of right now, she performs at a popular shopping center called Cadence Street. When she’s not performing, she works as a songwriter for smaller producers during the day.

❥ As bubbly as she is, she has an unusual case of stage fright, and it’s really bad. 😓 One of the reasons she donned a mask in the first place.

(Her weapon is also under the cut if you’re interested! I made the canvas size too long and I didn’t want the post to be too big, but thank you! I hope you enjoyed this!)

I also made a playlist too because I could not help myself 😅 I’m sorry if that’s too much lol 🙏🙏

[ourgoldenpath]

bad case of stage fright

[hausofmingi]

his good girl - chapter 1

pairing: song mini x stripper!reader

tags: stripper au, smut series

warnings: slight mentions of stalker, bad words (tee hee), dom!mingi, sub!reader, riding, daddydom!mingi, finger sucking, being carried and getting fucked, a bit of physical roughness (reader receiving), degradation but also praise, cum eating (off the floor!), aftercare

wc: 3.8 k

an: so I decided to give the reader a name because that feels more realistic to me as a reader than y/n. I find that sometimes reading "y/n" takes me out of it a little, so lmk if you find this helpful as well! Also, I am a little depraved so right off the bat, this gets very crazy kinky

minors dni!! 18+ only!!

“Where is the red garter belt I let you borrow?” You are racing around your and Lina’s small apartment, trying to prepare for yet another night on the job. 

“I don’t know, I may have left it at the club?” Lina answers from the bathroom. 

Red is his favorite. You don’t want to disappoint. 

“Well great Lina thanks for that, I’m never letting you borrow my shit again.” 

“Love you too!” she calls after you as you leave to go shopping. It’s not like you’re against making another trip to get some new pieces, but why do you always make the same mistake in letting Lina borrow your favorite stuff…

Your’s and Lina’s apartment is in a pretty run down building in an unsafe part of Gangnam, but no matter how shitty it is, its yours and you really want it to feel like home. 

But, that doesn’t mean you don’t feel the pair of eyes watching you as you exit out of your apartment building and walk towards the bus stop. 

You have been noticing that lately, the feeling that someone is watching you. When you leave your house, when you’re at the grocery store, while you’re going on a run. You try and brush it off because this is normal for women and all that, but today, you pay just a little harder attention. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you see a figure in a black hood (Jacket? Coat? You don’t want to look too hard) standing across the street from your apartment building. You walk a little faster to the bus stop just in case. 

That night, after spending more than you should on new lingerie sets, you and Lina are about to take the stage for your first stage set. It’s almost midnight, which is usually the time he makes his appearance. 

You always get butterflies, but not the stage fright normal kind of butterflies, the kind that make your clit perk up and your nipples harden. 

Why do you always get so worked up over a man who hasn’t even fucked you?, you think as you make your way up to the stage. 

You really have become quite the pro at this. After 4 years of working for this club, your boss has dubbed you his favorite girl. Doyeon always protects you and gives you the most popular customers, knowing you will always keep them coming back. 

You always thought it felt nice to be appreciated, especially knowing he didn’t have any intentions of coming onto you, on account of he’s a flaming fruitcake.

Its a good ways into your set, and his table still sits empty. You feel the sweat start to form on your back, but try to stay in your routine. 

Why isn’t he here? Where could he be instead? Did his company find out he was doing this? 

You always got scared that it might be leaked that idols come here, knowing the sasaengs stalker habits. Mingi, being a part of one of the biggest Korean boy groups, Ateez, must have a large number of crazy fans following him. 

Did they find out and tip the press to show up here? You didn’t see anyone outside though… Your mind runs rampant with all of the reasons that it could possibly be as you walk off stage and collect your tips from the stage manager. 

Tears start to threaten to spill, and you think you are crazy yet again to be this affected by a man you haven’t even had a conversation with. 

On the way home, Lina can tell you’re bothered and nudges your side as you walk home. 

“So you know how Taehyun has been requesting me a lot? Well he mentioned his upcoming tour tonight, I think he might finally take me along with them!” She exclaimed excitedly. 

“Don’t be ridiculous, he’s just saying that so you’ll suck him off some more.” you say. 

“Well damn… What’s got you all worked up honey?” She always called you honey when she was trying to comfort you. 

“Mingi didn’t come tonight..” you admit. 

“On a Thursday? That’s… super out of character. Well don’t worry, I’m sure practice just went long or he has an early morning schedule or….” her talking trails off as you dissociate. 

Lina has always been a nice friend, agreeing to move in with you without knowing you very well, trying her best to always cheer you up. It’s not her fault you felt like you guys were never really close. You give her props for trying though. 

You pull out your phone and check his bubble and instagram, seeing if maybe they could give you some clues. Nothing. 

You fall asleep that night thinking of the last time his fingers swiped your lip, hoping it wasn’t the last.

—

The next night at the club is gloomy. Even though it’s a Friday, attendance is lower and your energy is even lower. 

The feeling of someone watching you has been bothering you all day, but the guy in the hood has yet to make an appearance. You are just looking forward to curling up in your bed tonight and continually refreshing Mingi’s bubble messages. 

The stage manager calls for everyone to get onstage for the final number and the other girls rush out. You take your time though, not feeling like getting in a rush for this menial thing. 

You hang your head in your hands, covering your eyes and taking a breath. Just get through it, he’s just a man, you try to remind yourself. 

A smell reaches you, like a really expensive cologne. Musky and masculine, and somehow… dominant. 

You look up and standing in the doorway is him. He stands as if he owns the place, hands in his pocket, opting for a fitted vest tonight in lieu of a jacket. 

And he’s staring you down, studying you intently. If it was anyone else, you would feel the need to cover yourself and apologize. But not with him. 

You probably look like a dumbass, staring at him through the mirror with your mouth slightly open. 

He speaks first. “You were worried.” It’s a question but he doesn’t need an answer. 

“Yes,” is all you can manage to squeak out. 

He leans against the doorway, messing with his shirt cuff. You still haven’t moved, frozen in place. How did he get in here, past the security guard? How did he know which dressing room you were in? Was he the person in the hood you noticed this morning? He must be stalking you… Why doesn’t that bother you more? 

He notices your anxiety moving through you. “Don’t worry, I just know the security guard. He owed me a favor. I’m not a stalker” he responds, as if he read your mind.

“That’s… good” you say. 

He drops his arms and strides towards you, slowly as to not spook you. “Well thank you for worrying about me. I’m okay, for now. But, here’s the problem my love,” he draws his finger up your arm, making your hair stand up and bumps form. “You may be in trouble.” 

You aren’t sure what he means. “What kind of trouble?” you ask. “Like legal trouble?” 

You are afraid that maybe one of the idols ratted this place out and the feds are going to come knocking down your door and take you all away. Would Mingi still visit you in jail? Surely not, there’s no lap dances there… 

He sticks his finger under your chin and pushes it up to make you look at him. Drip. 

“Please stop letting your mind get ahead of you, baby. Let daddy speak.” DRIP. 

“A sasaeng has been getting very close to you. Too close. I can’t let you get hurt.” Awe, he wants to protect you. DRIP DRIP DRIPPING. 

“How did they find me?” you ask. 

He leans against the counter as he continues, “I am not sure, I don’t even know how much they know. Sasaengs are insane people with insane complexes. This one has been stalking me since pre-debut. But I’ve always been careful that she doesn’t see me come in here. So how she knows that you are important to me, I don’t know…” IMPORTANT TO HIM??? 

Okay you’ll have to throw these underwear out at this point. 

“So what do I need to do then? To protect myself I mean” you ask him. 

“Nothing, I want you to do absolutely nothing and let me handle it. But in the meantime, you can’t go back to your apartment.” 

Hate to say it, but fine by you. Maybe you’ll save some money by not having to replace your stolen shit anymore.

“Where will I go instead?” you ask. 

“You’ll come stay with me.” Jesus Christ, 20 year old you would be freaking the fuck out. But, it doesn’t make you freak out, in that way at least. 

“What about Lina, what about my job? I can’t live with you, much less San and Seonghwa. I’ll never see you. What if you have to travel for schedules? I’m just supposed to stay in your dorm 24/7? I have a life! I barely even know you! You only ever say 4 words to me, and then fucking leave me in a puddle, how can I just-” 

His hand stroking the side of your cheek cuts you off. “Again with the mind racing, baby. I don’t want you to uproot your life, it will be temporary. I have my own apartment now too, so we won’t be with other members. It will only be until we are 100% sure you are safe to be alone. I will take care of you, I promise.” he reassures. 

You lean into the hand that holds your head, a few tears falling into it. You finally get the courage to look up at him, making eye contact. He has dropped his heavy, dominant demeanor. Instead, his eyes hold only comfort and concern. 

Maybe he wasn’t kidding; maybe you really are important to him. 

After a minute of silence, “Okay, so what do I need to do right now?” you ask.

“Change and pack up your stuff, we are going to the apartment. Make a list of what all you need from your apartment when we get home and I will send a staff to collect it all in the morning.” 

“And take a breath, princess.” You unclench your jaw, which you didn’t even realize was clenched. He kisses your forehead before reaching down to grab your duffle bag that you carry your things in. 

You think in silence as you pack. Take a breath he says… he will protect me he says… Why me? Why is protecting me, a stripper, just some stripper that he barely speaks to. He doesn’t even know my real name…

“Yes I do,” he says from the chair he has sat down in to wait for you. Oops, you must’ve said that part outloud. 

“It’s Cora.” You like the way he flips the “r” of your American name with his Korean accent. 

“How do you know that?” he ignores you. “How do you know I used to live with San and Seonghwa?” “Touche…” you respond.

“All done?” he asks. You nod. He crosses to you and starts stroking your arms to comfort you. 

“I want you to remember though, you still have to be a good girl for me at the apartment, can you do that?” 

You look up at him through your eyelashes, surprised that he still is holding this up even at a time like this. Is it all an act, or is it truly how he is? Either way, you are turned on once again. 

“Yes..” you respond. He cocks his eyebrow, questioning your answer. 

“Yes what?” 

“Yes… daddy.”

“There’s my good girl.”

With his hand on your back, he guides you out of the dressing room and out the back door, where a black hatchback with tinted windows is waiting. He holds open the door for you, and helps you into the car. If only other men treated all their strippers like this…

The car ride home (whatever home means at the moment) is very silent. He has his hand on your thigh the entire way, the other staying steady on the wheel. His thumb rubs back and forth, another attempt at comfort you’re guessing. It works, sort of. 

Just smelling him and being near him your body is relaxed, knowing he will take care of you and wanting to give yourself to him. It’s like you are under his spell, which is crazy. You are usually so independent and self-sufficient. What about him makes you want to grant his every wish? 

“Shouldn’t you be blindfolding me, so I won’t know where your apartment is and so I won’t run away and all that?” you ask, kind of joking. 

“You won’t” he says while keeping his eyes on the road, fully confident in his answer. 

He’s probably right. 

–

Finally you reach the apartment. You almost drifted off to sleep, even though the drive was only about 20 minutes. He parks right outside the front door of the building and gets out to open your door for you. He offers his hand to help you out of the car. It’s much appreciated because you are still in your platform heels, just throwing a coat over your outfit you were going to wear to perform in. 

He keeps his hand on your back as you walk up to the doors, through the lobby, and up the elevator. It’s a really nice building with a concierge and fresh flowers all over. Sometimes you forget how big Ateez really is, and figure that Mingi bought this place with his own money. 

You wonder if he has neighbors on his floor. Do they know he lives next to them? Does he talk to his neighbors at all? Do they know that he is having his own personal stripper move in with him?

They’re gonna know now, from how loud you are being. 

How you ended up riding him in his dining room chair about 15 minutes later, you’re not so sure. 

—

He was going slow, too slow, slow enough that you could feel every. single. inch. 

You tried to grind your hips and get him in deeper, but the tight hold he had on your asscheek lets you know that even though you are on top, you are not in control. 

His other hand is holding your face, his thumb hooked in your mouth. You suck and gag on it as much as you can, but it’s hard to focus when he is going this slow. 

You felt high, things were getting foggy. All you knew is that you wanted to please him. 

“My beautiful girl, doing so well. You were waiting for this for a long time weren’t you?” his deep voice sends sparks to your clit and makes you even wetter, if that’s even possible. 

You can only close your eyes and nod. You want to throw your head back, but his hand on your cheek and thumb in your mouth keeps it facing forward. “Now baby, what did I say? Eyes. on. me.” 

He jerks your head a bit, just to make you a little scared. 

You know he would never hurt you. 

Unless you asked. 

You open your eyes like a good girl. How could you not be a good girl for him? 

His breath catches when you make eye contact with him again. His eyes bare into your soul, never breaking. 

You whimper a little when the head of his cock catches someplace you have never felt before. He smirks, knowing. He hits it again, making the upper half of your body keen forward, his thumb slipping out of your mouth. 

Your hands, which were bracing on the back of the chair, move down to his pecs. You are desperate for him, desperate for that feeling that release you dreamt about him giving you. 

You start to bounce since he let go of you, letting his arms hang down and his head fall back in pleasure. You are doing that to him. You are making him let go. 

You grind his cockhead up against your g-spot over and over again, drooling down his neck. 

You wish you could see what you guys look like, his giant body draped over the chair in ecstasy, you sat on his thick thighs bouncing on his perfect cock, licking up and down his neck. 

You’re close, really close, and your walls start to constrict down on his cock. His eyes shoot open and he jerks his head up at the feeling. 

“Hold on princess,” he practically growls at you. 

Hold onto what? You think. 

He grabs underneath your thighs, holding his hands behind your back and lifts the both of you out of the chair with him still inside of you. 

Oh my god, holy shit. 

This was too good, you couldn’t have even dreamt this up. 

You wrap your hands around his neck and he pummels into you as fast as he can, hitting your g-spot every single time as if he has memorized the angle. The sound of his balls hitting your ass covers your cries of his name. 

“Fucking. Take it.” he says, his forehead touching yours. He has essentially lost control of his body, just bouncing you wildly up and down his cock. 

It’s coming, It’s coming. Please, please, please, “please.” You don’t even know what you’re begging for, if you’re even talking out loud. You feel like you are losing your grip on reality, its so so close. 

He stills inside of you, leaving his cock right on the spot you need the most. He just shallowly thrusts, just rubbing your g-spot with his cockhead. Holy shit, it feels like fucking heaven. 

“Now,” he commands. 

And you obey. 

You flutter around him, feeling how his shallow thrusts stutter when you cum. You don’t stop for at least a full minute. 

“Thank you thank you thank you, oh fuck, thank you daddy” is all you can say as your clit jumps in ecstasy. 

His eyebrows are furrowed together, he’s close too. Right as your orgasm tapers out, you tighten your thighs around him and give him 3 bounces. That’s all he needs. 

He pulls you off of him just as he’s cumming, holding you away from him so you can watch the cum drip out of his cock and onto the floor. It’s so beautiful, you think. 

He sets your legs down on the floor, but they can’t hold you up and you fall to your knees. You can barely see straight, and you can’t catch your breath. Holy shit he may really have fucked the shit out of you. 

You keep your eyes turned to the ground while you try and slow your heart, but you see him start to squat down to your level. He picks up your chin with his hand to look up at him. “Baby… you need to clean up your mess.” 

“Wh..What?” you stutter. 

He stands up straight again, looming over you with his giant presence. “Clean it up.” his gaze falls to the ground and yours follows. 

Oh… you get it now. 

Not breaking eye contact, you lean your head down. You stick out your tongue and lick up the cum that he let fall to the floor, as well as some from you that you didn’t even realize had dripped down. He smiles. 

You feel like a pet, like a slave. 

You fucking love it. 

“That’s my good girl.” he praises you. You wipe off your mouth and look up at him through your eyelashes. He squats back down to your level, seeming to have fallen for your puppy dog eyes. 

“Does my baby need help getting cleaned up?” 

“Yes daddy.” 

He bends down to pick you up, which he does with ease, as if you weighed nothing. He guides your legs to wrap around him and he carries you into the bathroom. 

He sets you down to sit on the toilet and turns on the shower to start heating up. Why do you feel so dizzy? You gaze can’t focus. 

“Cora… don’t pass out on me my love.” he holds your face in his hands. 

“What do you need baby?” you grab onto his wrist to try and steady yourself. 

“Just a minute… I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t apologize, take your time.”

He strokes your hair as you take a few deep breaths to steady yourself. 

“Is the shower ready?” you ask. 

“Yes my love, whenever you are.”

“Will you help me?” you ask.

“Of course” he says as he starts guiding you towards the shower door. 

He lets you step in first and before you can protest that you can shower on your own, he steps in behind you. 

It's a really big shower, with beautiful blue tiles and a detachable shower head. Detachable? Huh…

You lean into his chest, your head barely meeting the middle of it due to his height. One of his arms wraps around your body while the other starts to shampoo your hair. 

Why do you already feel so comfortable with him? As if you have been showering together for years. You literally just licked this man’s cum off the floor and have no remorse about it. Should you feel guilty? 

Nah, you kind of just feel like bragging to other Atiny’s on Twitter. I sucked his beautiful cock!! Suckers!!! Probably wouldn’t be the best idea…

After washing the rest of your body and getting you out of the shower and making sure you brushed your teeth, you are now tucked into his extremely comfortable bed. You don’t usually sleep naked, but it seems right when he is too. 

You turn to face him in the bed. He was already staring at you, it seems. 

“You know, I wasn’t expecting us to fuck right off the bat..” you admit. 

“Me neither, but I am not surprised. It’s hard to resist you.”

“You’ve been resisting me for the past 6 months. You know I always craved more from you.”

“Yes I did know. But I didn’t want to enjoy you in such a public space. I just craved being around you. Its hard to resist you, though, princess. Just know that.”

I guess that makes me feel better, but still… so many things unanswered.

“I know you are probably questioning a lot of things. Just try and get some sleep tonight, okay my love?” he asks. 

“Okay..” you agree in a small voice, knowing that you will wake up tomorrow with even more unanswered questions. 

“Good girl.” He curls his arm around your middle and tucks you into his side, kissing your forehead before drifting to sleep. 

He smells like the same cologne he was wearing earlier tonight. Beautiful, musky, and masculine. You let yourself drift to sleep, breathing him in.

OKAY I DID IT MY FIRST CHAPTER. plz reblog and like.

[qoldenskies]

!!opening requests for rottmnt bad things happen bingo!!!

i've already taken a few, but i thought i should officially make a post with the squares and include descriptions for what i already have done so you can all see!! i'll put the prompts under the read more and edit it when im given/get concrete ideas for certain squares! i'll take requests for the ones on the list marked with N/A!! all that i ask for is no character death! i prioritize donnie whump but nobody is safe from me!!

you can request fics in the post-clipped wings canary continuity universe!

---

Self-Harm: Raph & his brothers — post-movie — Sometimes, long after his possession, Raph still hears Kraang voices. He vows to keep himself under control just in case it happens ever again—no matter the cost.

Claustrophobia: Donnie & Mikey — canary continuity (post-cw) — covers movie events — Mikey and Donnie are trapped in the tank and unable to escape. This reopens some old wounds.

Lifted by the Neck: [taken, description pending]

Don't You Dare Pity Me: Leo & his brothers — series of vignettes — Leo's pain tolerance has always been supernaturally high. He doesn't understand why his brothers think this is a bad thing.

Power Fatigue: Mikey & his brothers — post-movie — Mikey won't let his family die, no matter what.

Internalized Prejudice: N/A

Recorded/Broadcasted Torture: [taken, description pending]

Self-Loathing: Whole Hamato family dynamic — pre-s2 finale — The boys are hit by a spell that heightens their paranoia, and Splinter is forced to confront some uncomfortable truths about them, and about himself.

Mind Control: [taken, description pending]

Disproportionate Retribution: Donnie & family — doomed future — It's a year into the apocalypse, and they desperately need allies. Witch Town vows only to assist if Donnie answers to his mistakes.

Stage Fright: Splinter & family — time-frame ambiguous — Splinter spent years as a performer, but the Battle Nexus left some... well, scars that he refuses to acknowledge. This time he can't hide from it.

Exclusion/Rejection: N/A

Take Me Instead: Donnie & his brothers — ambiguous pre-movie — Donnie accidentally activates a spell that transfers his brothers' pain to himself. He is more fine with this than he realistically should be.

Bullying: [taken, description pending]

Tortured For Information: N/A

Frostbite: Raph & family — ambiguous pre-movie — Raph is made an example of by anti-mutant extremists.

Bleeding Through The Bandages: Leo & ensemble — doomed future — When Leo loses his arm, his brothers are scattered on long missions elsewhere. His resistance step up to take care of him in their absence.

Kind Restraints: Leo & everyone, really (primarily Raph, CJ and Draxum) — post-movie — Big Mama hosts a party to celebrate the Hamato clan's win against the Kraang, and not every yokai is okay with Draxum's presence; and sometimes Leo will move before he thinks.

Tranquilizer Darts: Raph & Donnie — ambiguous time-frame — Donnie and Raph are trapped in a cell together, and Donnie won't wake up.

Hysterical Strength: April & family — doomed future — Nothing can stop April O'Neil.

Forced to Hurt Someone: Mikey & Donnie — post-movie — Donnie always joked about being the best to call when his brothers need to hide a body. He never expected it to actually happen.

Dehumanization: Donnie & family — post-movie — Donnie accidentally uploads his consciousness into his computers. He doesn't want to come back out.

Sacrifice: Donnie & family (primarily Mikey) — post-movie — A cult demands a live sacrifice to their God. Donnie steps up so they'll let Mikey go, unaware of the hell he's just subjected his family to.

Locked in a Cage: Donnie & his brothers — canary continuity universe (post-cw) — Donnie has a fight with his family, and after locking himself in his lab, he realizes he's been sealed in.

Starvation: Donnie & family — doomed future — In the apocalypse, rations are hard to distribute. In an effort to protect his family, Donnie develops a bad habit.

[autism-autobot]

Flower of a Poisonous Seed Part 76:

Part 75:

TW: mentions of sexualization, torture, attempted execution, decapitation, alcohol,

"I just remembered that today's Red Son's birthday."

"Yep, it sure is. I'm working on his present right now. I've been working on it for a week now but I didn't realize it'd take so long."

"And Father's Day is tomorrow."

"Shoot!"

Summer events were starting to stack up and Wukong had completely forgotten when Father's Day was. It's not like he'd ever really needed to pay attention to that for the past few centuries.

Pekoe, Yi Min, and Liang went back home yesterday but remained on call just in case.

SWK: I guess it's time for a store run huh?

Nezha: If you still need time to prepare our nephew's gift, perhaps now would be a good time to exercise your ability to be home by yourself.

SWK: Oh! Okay, let's do it! But if you need help with choosing a gift or just want to talk, you can call the home phone.

Nezha: I think that's a good idea.

~~~

The home phone was an old system that came with the house. It connected to the walls in multiple rooms and thanks to Red Son's upgrades to the system, couldn't be tapped in by random neighbors and didn't need to have the phone itself on a wire.

It took all of five minutes into the grocery store trip for Nezha to call Wukong.

SWK: *picks up the phone* Hi, honey! Need help?

Nezha: Not really, I just wanted to hear your voice and see if you were doing okay.

SWK: Yes, I'm doing just fine. I've got my water and my snacks and my project. I've got everything I need. How are you doing?

Nezha: It feels weird not having you near me. Honestly, July is going to be a nightmare-

SWK: Don't remind me!

Nezha: Anyway, I've got an idea for a present for Father but what are you making for Red Son?

SWK: Well, you remember how Red Son and I were talking about how we used to belly dance when he was little? I decided to make a dancing outfit for him.

SWK: It looks just like the one he used to wear as a toddler, but now in his size.

Nezha: It is a modest outfit, yes?

SWK: Of course! We don't dance to look sexy or show off our bodies, we do it for the art and the fun of it.

SWK: Like many forms of dance, belly dancing has been hyper-sexualized over the years. And it tends to be aimed at female dancers especially.

Nezha: I like dancing, but I've never been a fan of how 'showy' the outfits and certain movements can be.

Nezha: I don't really consider it my place to speak on such topics, since I am neither a dancer nor a woman, but it is rather tragic what can happen to those who simply wish to pursue the craft they love so much.

SWK: Yeah, it's not that we don't like our bodies, it's just that we don't need looky-loos staring at us like that. It's part of why I never really did it publicly, even before I had stage fright.

Nezha: When did you get stage fright anyhow? *jokingly* You have a karaoke night gone wrong too?

SWK: No, it was just before I got thrown into the furnace. When I was sentenced to death for leading The Brotherhood in the war against Heaven.

SWK: Everyone in Heaven was watching me, cheering for my demise and booing whenever I restored myself.

SWK: They attempted so many different ways to kill me. They even asked for suggestions from the crowd on how they might be able to put an end to me.

SWK: Not my best experience with crowds, as you can imagine.

Nezha: Oh, my lovely darling... my gods...

SWK: It's okay, it-

Nezha: *upset and saddened* No! Don't you dare try to justify their actions! That should never have happened, they should never have done that to you!

SWK: I know. I just didn't want you to feel bad about it since you were one of the people in the crowd.

Nezha: You... saw me?

SWK: Yeah, standing next to Iron Fan. I remember she covered your eyes right before... it was either they chopped my head off with an axe, or they shot a cannon in my face, I don't remember which.

Nezha: I'm so sorry, my love. I should've said or done something.

SWK: You were doing as you were told, I hold you to no blame.

Nezha: Crazy... how so much has changed since then...

SWK: For the better, yeah, I think so too.

~~~

When Nezha got home, he found Wukong asleep with his face against the washing machine where Red Son's new outfit was clean and damp inside.

Wukong had always enjoyed watching the clothes spin around in the washing machine which often lulled him to sleep. Nezha gently picked up his partner and set him down in their newly painted bedroom.

Nezha hung the outfit on the drying rack. As he walked back to lie down with Wukong, he couldn't help but feel guilt about past events.

Wukong's head and neck had so many scars on them, how many were by his own hand?

Nezha knew Wukong forgave him for everything, he'd seen how Wukong treats those he holds resentment toward, few as they may be. It was never a question as to how Wukong felt towards Nezha.

It was more about how Nezha had felt about himself. About what he'd done.

For a moment, his mind wandered to a day he'd seen Wukong belly-dancing with baby Red Son. They were both wrapped in loose red garments dancing as Wukong sang a song in Hindi.

Such a beautiful voice...

Crazy, looking back and now knowing Wukong couldn't breathe yet sang more beautifully than any songbird could replicate. Nezha had then been in awe of Wukong's movements, now he was in awe of his voice.

Over the phone today, Wukong sang that same song as he worked on the outfit, the sound of stitching fabric providing the beat Wukong sang to.

Crazy, how things ended up this way.

Nezha never imagined that he, an aromantic and asexual man would have a partner, let alone one so beautiful. Let alone Wukong, of all people.

Still, he considers himself very lucky.

Wukong's beauty, to Nezha, was the same as the flowers he loved so much. Even slightly wilted, it was still a sight to behold.

And Muzha thought he was crazy.

~~~

Watching Red Son take his first drink was a sight to behold.

RS: *spits out drink* That- it- *gags* no, I don't like that one. It- Why is it burning like that?! Eugh!

DBK: *laughs* It seems you have your mother's taste in drinks, my daughter!

PIF: Really, I don't know how your father can stomach it. Here, try mommy's wine. *holds her glass out to Red Son*

RS: *hesitantly takes a sip* Oh! I like that one.

Mei: We can do shots all night if you want!

SWK: Please don't go crazy.

Part 77:

Masterpost

@weaverpop @istopaskingmemate @fruit-fight @ainnur @cutvdo @vivyainou

[denimbex1986]

'The actor and Baftas host answers your questions about facial hair, Doctor Who, Scrooge McDuck – and growing up as the son of a minister

How do you face the challenge of being this year’s Bafta host? practicalpanic I don’t currently feel particularly challenged because everything’s written down for me and I don’t have to worry about winning – or not winning – an award. If it was the first night of a play, I’d be curled up in a corner in the foetal position. But the fact that it’s not my day job certainly feels liberating. Who knows why they asked me; I must have been pretty far down the list. Expectations are pretty much zero. I don’t have anything to prove. Will I be phoning [previous Bafa hosts] Jonathan Ross and Stephen Fry for advice? I might do. But I’m travelling in blissful ignorance at the moment.

What’s your sideburn policy? They appear to be sized in direct proportion to your characters’ confidence. DrHugbine That’s a very interesting observation, which I don’t think has any truth behind it, but it’s making me wonder …

Here are some examples … Fright Night’s Peter Vincent – long and bushy, confident vampire killer. The Doctor in Doctor Who – long and pointy, charismatic and charming. Broadchurch’s DI Alec Hardy – beard, no sideburns, introverted and suspicious. Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire’s Barty Crouch Jr – no beard, no sideburns, complex and a traitor. Good Omens’ Anthony Crowley – ginger, no sideburns, stylish but tempted Eve in the garden of Eden as a snake so a bit of a bad egg generally. TopTramp I don’t think you’re going to write a doctoral thesis based on that evidence. It’s very thin evidence, at most. I grew sideburns for Doctor Who because, back then, I was worried I was a bit young for it and I thought they slightly aged me. Which, of course, I then had to recreate recently when I’m almost certainly too old for it. I guess increasingly I am unshaven, in which case you don’t really have to worry about sideburns because they’re part of something else. Whatever length my sideburns are on the night of the Baftas has no reflection on how I’m treating the Baftas.

As a vicar with young kids, I wondered what influence being a son of the manse has had upon your work? RevdAl It’s hard to know, because you only know the influences you had specifically from your parents because they’re your parents – it’s hard to unpick. It certainly wasn’t a childhood filled with religious dogma or any kind of restrictions. It was more a moral guidebook.

What was it like kissing Michael Sheen [in season two of Good Omens]? And who enjoyed it more? carnies18 Who enjoyed it the most? Presumably Michael was thrilled. How could he not be? But it was another day at work. The most difficult bit was other people’s awkwardness. We thought it was quite fun, so it was fine. He’d brushed his teeth.

Would you accept a knighthood just to fuel an excellent argument with Sheen in the next series of Staged? Shirls Because he sent his OBE back? That predisposes the fact that anything that’s talked about in Staged is based on real life. We are in our own houses, acting opposite people we spend our life with. But that’s pretty much the extent of the reality of Staged.

Which is best – playing a detective, a murderer or a murder victim? JonnyMorris1973 Well, one of them solves the crimes. One of them commits the crimes. And the other one has a crime done to them. It probably depends which character the writer is most fond of and therefore the most fun to play. It’s not really in the gift of the actor, so much as in the gift of the scriptwriter. I think I’ve only played one detective, haven’t I? What’s my favourite way I’ve been murdered? Oh my goodness. I was shot in The Last September. I get murdered on stage every night in Macbeth, although that’s a spoiler. I sort of died in Doctor Who when I got shot by a galvanic beam in a radiation chamber that filled my body with more radiation I could cope with.

Am I as geeky as the Doctor who fans? Yes. As a Doctor Who fan myself of old, I can very much can plug into that. I don’t think I ever got in trouble at school. That is one of those stories that’s ended up on Wikipedia. I wrote an essay on Doctor Who, which some unpleasant newspaper found and printed. But I didn’t get in trouble for it. I think I got quite a good mark for it.

Who would win in a fight between Crowley, The Doctor and Scrooge McDuck? AlistairDionysus Probably Scrooge McDuck. He seems to be able to survive just about everything. He’s far more resilient than Crowley or The Doctor, who seem to end up staring destruction in the face. Scrooge McDuck, nothing seems to trouble him.

You have a lovely singing voice! Would you like to do a musical? Beatrice_Tate, gaityr, laibarra622 and Luigii I make a nice curry, but I’m not going to open a restaurant. Would I do the Masked Singer? I love The Masked Singer. Nothing has excited my eight-year-old daughter more than when everyone thought Ricky Wilson from the Kaiser Chiefs was me, week after week. You can imagine how disappointed she was when it turned out I wasn’t.

If you were a cheese, what kind would you be? BrianBraddock I’ve got very into paneer curries. Paneer is neither hard nor soft, so I’ll say that because it makes me sound like I’ve really thought about it.

What’s the last item you snatched from a set? NataliaBCN I’m just going back through things I might have pocketed. Maybe this is the upbringing we talked of earlier. I’m very bad with nicking things. I’m plagued with guilt. The last time they released a new sonic screwdriver toy, someone gave me one but I gave it away because I’m so full of generosity, but now I slightly regret it.

Your portrayal of serial killer Dennis Nilsen [in ITV’s Des] was truly terrifying. How do you prepare for a role like that? YorkshireExPat With someone such as Dennis Nilsen, there is quite a lot of material that’s been written about him. There’s video evidence of him. So you immerse yourself as much you can, then join a line between that and the version of the character that’s in the script, because, ultimately, that’s the version you have to portray. One thing we were very careful to do on Des was to not make it from his point of view. I don’t think you can ask an audience to sympathise or understand someone like Nilsen. It’s the story of how he got away with all these things, then was caught. Hopefully the audience is left thinking: how can someone who is just another member of the human race be committing these extraordinary acts and the rest of us not notice or understand?

If you could regenerate as anyone else for the day, who would you choose? TopTramp My wife, just to see how annoying I really am so I could be properly objective and understand her pain.'

[warningsine]

For the early punks, many of them white British blokes, their music was about declaring themselves outside the larger society. The Sex Pistols dreamed of “anarchy for the U.K.” The Clash howled for “a riot of my own.” To be punk was to give offense, to make one’s self unpalatable, to choose to stand apart.

But what is punk when your society has already made you an outsider? This is the musical question that the raucous, cheeky comedy “We Are Lady Parts,” returning Thursday for its second season on Peacock, seeks to answer.

The first season, back in 2021, introduced Lady Parts, a punk band of Muslim women in London: Saira (Sarah Kameela Impey), the caustic lead singer; Ayesha (Juliette Motamed), the fearsome drummer; and Bisma (Faith Omole), the earth-motherly bassist. Together with their manager, Momtaz (Lucie Shorthouse), a savvy Malcolm McLaren in a niqab, they recruit a reluctant lead guitarist, Amina (Anjana Vasan).

Amina is no one’s idea of a rock star, least of all her own. She is an introverted microbiologist who worships Don McLean, with a severe case of stage fright that causes her to heave her guts while performing — and not in a defiant, Iggy Pop way. (Vasan gives Amina an engaging nerd-hero energy, similar to Quinta Brunson in “Abbott Elementary.”)

Over the six-episode season, Amina finds that Lady Parts gives her a way of defining herself rather than being defined, whether by the conservative suitors who tell her “Music is haram” or by her free-spirited mother (Shobu Kapoor), who wishes Amina would wait to seek a husband.

The root conflicts of “We Are Lady Parts” are familiar rock-band woes — having no money, having no gigs, being judged by family and by hipsters. This is where making the series about Muslim women rockers accomplishes more than representational box-ticking: It makes an old story new and nuanced.

For Amina and the rest of the band, rebellion is complicated. It means being Muslim women musicians, with equal stress on both adjectives. (The name Lady Parts itself feels like an answer to the anatomical name of the Pistols.) It means owning their sexuality and spirituality, seizing the right to define what being Muslim means to them and affirming their Muslim identity, as reflected in their sly, effectively catchy songs (co-written by the show’s creator, Nida Manzoor).

“Voldemort Under My Headscarf” embraces the traditional garb as a badass statement as defiant as any ’70s punk’s safety pin. (“I’m sorry if I scare you/ I scare myself too.”) “Bashir With the Good Beard” addresses a certain kind of haughty, elusive boyfriend. (“Are my clothes too tight?/ Do I laugh too much?”)

The series has some resonance with the recently ended “Reservation Dogs,” though its sense of humor is more rowdy and brash. It, too, is a story about young people asserting their individuality while affirming their community rather than rejecting it. The first season’s climax, in fact, involves the band being mischaracterized by an article profile that labels them “Bad Girls of Islam.”

Season 2 finds Lady Parts in the flush of minor success. (The show also shows signs of having hit the big time, attracting guest stars including Malala Yousafzai.)

The band has finished a camper-van tour of England and is planning an album. Their fan base now includes not just Muslim kids, but Muslim kids’ parents, as well as middle-aged white people, whose cringey praise recalls the garden party guests from “Get Out.” Amina has mastered her stage fright and — with occasional wobbles — is embracing her confident “villain era.”

The show’s sophomore outing is as brassy as the first, but adds layers of theme and character. Early on, the band discovers it has competition in a younger Muslim band, Second Wife. (“That’s good,” Ayesha grudgingly acknowledges of the name.) Rather than set up a battle of the bands, “We Are Lady Parts” puts a twist on the “There can only be one” mentality that pits underrepresented artists against each other.

As the band progresses, and Amina grows into her romantic confidence, the season plays with the way a kind of fetishizing adoration can be as toxic as rejection, both artistically and personally. Being stared at because of your head scarf, in post-Brexit Britain, is alienating, but so is being asked to keep your head scarf on to protect your Muslim-punk brand.

Over six episodes, the season fleshes out its supporting characters, wrestling with who they are and what they want to say. Bisma, who is married and has an adolescent daughter, starts to feel typecast as the group’s maternal figure. (“I am Mommy Spice. I am Wholesome, Boring Spice.”) Ayesha is dating a woman but is reluctant to come out to her parents, which makes her worry that she’s letting down her gay fans. Saira, the most old-school-punk of the group, itches to branch out from “funny Muslim songs” and write more pointedly political material, but that risks hurting the band commercially.

It’s hard not to see this last story as a meta-comment, intentional or not, on what the series itself can get away with saying, on a major media platform, with these characters. There is reference, for instance, to Saira wanting to speak out on how Muslims are being persecuted around the world, but less reference to any specific conflict, be it in Gaza or elsewhere.

One striking scene makes this sense of invisible boundaries literal, as Saira struggles to put her politics into song form. She runs through a verse: “It’s like death and the maiden / Dancing with my corporation / I won’t mention the w—” The what? The world? The war? We never hear. Her mouth is pixelated as she tries to finish the line, over and over; she strains and screams but the word won’t come out. Whether “Lady Parts” chooses not to complete her lyric or can’t, the image of asphyxiating silence is potent. (The episode closes with a song by the Palestinian singer Rasha Nahas.)

Of course, getting silenced by the industry is another perennial tale of rock ’n’ roll, among other vocations. As in Season 1’s getting-the-band-together arc, the challenges of making it are superficially familiar from other music stories: What is selling out? How do you distinguish growth from compromise? Can you make it big without abandoning any of your mates?

But the execution and the details are captivatingly specific. What works about “We Are Lady Parts” is what works about great punk. You can still fashion something new out of the same old three chords. You just need a distinctive voice.

[azurefaire]

little nicky little character analysis

thinking about deep down, nicky's "biggest fear" isn't swans it's surveillance and being incompetent. being judged, but in a different way than pepper ann and maybe anyone who isn't in the little household. losing autonomy is also a big fear for her and she wants to feel like she's in control even if she's literally 12. in case it wasnt obvious i havent seen all the pepper ann episodes (i have seen the finale and a lot of episodes tho lol) but i had the headcanon that she had stage fright and severe performance anxiety and i just watched quiz bowl and its so sad from her perspective, once she realized it was televised with SO many people watching she felt physically ill. i noticed within pepper ann that there's a lot of jokes at everyone's expense within this nutty town and privacy isnt really a thing, yet from what i can tell nicky is conveniently able to escape this fate of being on TV outside of this episode. she contradicts herself, she "wants" to be a famous concert violinist because she practices and dedicated her life to it yet is most comfortable to be preforming in an empty room with no one in it.

what i like about nicky's character is despite being smart, she has a really low self esteem. unlike alice or any other "gifted" kid, she doesn't want to be seen as perfect. she wants to be smart and not gifted so she wouldnt be completely isolated. this is just how she was raised after all! being average isn't okay but being exceptional IS the ideal and not exceptional at all, and nothing to draw attention to but to lightly praise. she only has two friends and no clique, her books etc. doesn't want to indulge herself, probably got mad at herself when she was lured in by the sights and smells of the piercing place and wore those earrings even though she felt alive and she did them in the right way. got mad at pepper ann's computer addiction despite being in x files irc group meetings (yes thats a throw away line that i view as a representation of her character) and when she trick or treats in secret, she wears the least obvious costume- just so she can get a taste of candy her parents disbelieve in, and to an extent herself.

she views the things that make her "perfect" as things that everyone should do- the "right things" and it's not just academics, it's morals- it's about being the bigger person- the bigger picture- and doing right by her family and those around her. she has all the traits that allow her to fit in (casual sort of look), stand out (talents)- but she doesn't want to be above it all she wants to be the all of the above and just enough. that being said she doesn't really want to be a wanna be, but doesn't really view others as less than. she wants to do enough of the academia thing and still be a mostly normal kid who people who are ambivalent of at least and pleasant to be in class at most. she presents as normal because she doesn't want to be sad and "boring", she doesn't complain. people know her and think she is pretty cool, but to be percieved people would only make a mockery of this person she's been built to be and been told she'd ruin her life if she didnt. her faith in others is often in media where she can engage and not fear rejection and a lack of reciprocation. she wants to coast thru life like this just live, not have a unearned "good reputation" as seen in nicky gone bad.

becky is her idealized self, who is the eldest and can balance the two roles. nicky's feelings, her anger were present at a young age and later fizzled out. her parents favor becky and still expect nicky to be as competent and cultured as possible. she is a prodigy in everything but can also present herself every in way to make others laugh and engage with her. becky is more true to this role, her hair is in a neat bob and isnt parted over her face. she's expressive and doesn't come across as uptight (to anyone but nicky) or moody. (reaching) she ties that hoodie over her chest because she's able to fill that role without suppressing her feelings. nicky ties it over her waist and denies herself her feelings, because at her core i think she sees how the role of "perfect" hurts other people and causes jealousy, division, and negativity. if she's feeling that herself she must try to not put that burden on others. denies wanting to be like becky because that would mean she's being too hard on becky. that she made the sin of comparing herself. she's emotionally intelligent yet not emotionally literate. and scared, denies herself her emotions outside of friendship. i think she views friendship as something with integrity, something she can fall back on. something she can value and something she can feel. "i value friendship because xyz"

i think it's a large part of her family dynamic of being raised with these casual overachieving workaholics. she wants to be known has a fear of being understood- to let the mask slip, to consider anything else. she has one path in life so she doesn't care about the social structure in the school to an extent. but she doesn't want to overdo it and of course she has her own dreams and interests too that probably aren't influenced by those classics! her family she respects and disrespecting them would be immature, bad, and a reminder of consequence.

when she resolves conficts with others she doesn't learn a lesson, but comes to the wrong conclusion on what she wants to do and the right way to go about it. people closer in age dont come up to nicky and tell her she's cool if they do- they tell pepper ann. she's contradictory- intimidated and intimidating. aloof but cool. nervous but calm. a prepared dreamer. cared for and ignored. it all makes her seem "sophisticated" and feeds into her detached longing to have that average sophisticated dream in italy that probably isnt hers. yet she lives in a very "unsophisticated" cartoony location, some isolating silly decently populated midwest (probably) where the activities of middle schoolers are broadcast to thousands on local tv. where tv and movie celebrities walk in and never return back to where they came from. she humilates herself in front of one that her family probably admires cause they watch his show at a troubled tween camp, but at least there are no cameras and he was sympathetic to her situation. how much of it is real i think is difficult to tell cause i really think most of this show is told thru pepper ann's perspective and eyes even if she isn't the focus of every episode. but when you think of the setting and premise of the show as it's own contradiction, it makes nicky's overachieving story so much sadder.

nicky to some extent has always known what she wants to do, but has she understood it? she knows but she doesn't understand. nicky has always been preforming in front of an audience, but if it's bigger than a theater. her heart can't take it. but you'll never see someone saying "poor nicky little"- only that she's taking it too far this time. she's overreacting. she can at take solace in the fact that she isnt having a tantrum or having sensitivities as some of the other kids have, but is just blowing things out of proportion cause she's cranky. because she's the good clean nicky little and anything else is just another extreme- it's not her. she's just reacting this one time and this lesson doesn't need to be reinforced. "i dont know what came over me" is her "i'm sorry" in some ways she is fortunate because to most extents she can escape the potential surveillance and judgement of others in this wacky world. but as a 7th grader in a small town, the world is still limiting, judgy, pushy. she'll say things about free speech and be afraid of critics who could want to silence her if she was truly her truest confident self call her "annoying" and be nonconstructive. she can be the impartial judge who makes the decision based on the evidence, and save herself from the hurt feelings she will get and spare herself from being on the other side of it. some expression, staring straight ahead, occasionally supportive when the times call for it, good listener with a bad microphone that needs to be checked once or twice a day. if you dont fail, you wouldn't feel bad for failing. if you feel bad for failing, you need to take it as a lesson. if you feel sad, you shouldn't put it on others or it's pathetic. be meek, but don't be weak. let it happen, but dont surrender to it. don't get defensive, but protect your peace. it all being instinctive. so lucky she has her friends that have her back, but they also hold her back because they too idealize this self destructive "perfection". but they also care about her non superficially a little bit as well.

so back in the quiz bowl episode, when she's called on and gets her stage fright. she becomes physically sick and guilt ridden. when she left, she said she had to leave or whatever to maintain that illusion of control which is just so sad. she rarely talks for the rest of the episode and when pepper ann is cramming for the test, i can imagine she was feeling twenty things at once. guilt, anger, humiliated, ashamed, questioning the validity of the textbook pepper ann is reading and probably her own reality cause what milo was reading sounded so weird, jealous (both of pepper ann getting to "catch up" last minute and of her ability to have all this inside of her and get it out at the right time, how she doesnt have to call herself for any of it)... and maybe even remembering a bad memory of all the times she probably had to cram with her parents when she was elementary age. cause you know for sometime they probably had her doing it until she was doing it herself. the fact is she is JUST like those she's competing with during the event, dehumanized since a young age but is very lucky to be "just some kid". just some lucky "upper middle class" depressed kid who IS gonna make it one day and when people ask her for nuance, tell her she actually is concernedly private they'll eventually forget about it. what's not convincing about the act, her interests and future are secure. the persona is convincing. she'll manage. her past- her childhood will just be some lost ties so she can be independent out there in the big scary world. the dysfunctional yet important and lovely friendship she had most of her childhood and that one kid she was "going out" with when she didn't understand any of her own feelings, will only be a memory one day. she made her bed of "one day i will grow" years in advance and lied in it. will she come to the realization of the danger of the black and white thinking, her own self rumination and still be proud of her own survival? was it a successful survival? will she realize... she was lying to herself a lot? will she stop gasping at the most obvious things she's doing one day?

i need to write nicky little fanfic that's too depressing for hazelnut middle school

[thegreatsinnamonroll]

I am immensely enjoying new people getting into HypMic (mostly on this hellsite fuck Twitter) but you poor babies. Oh my god. You have zero knowledge coming into contact with BAT and Dotsuhon. So here is, admittedly rather condensed, a lore drop and why BAT and DH are important:

Bad Ass Temple

Starting with Nagoya's fiercest, Bad Ass Temple represents courage, standing for what's right, and never backing down.

Their leader, Kuko Harai, is a Buddhist monk (in training), and despite his unconventional appearance and punk-like personality, he's devoted to his faith and friends. Before he was part of BAT, he made friends with Ichiro Yamada after an aggressive fist fight where they were evenly matched. They gained respect for each other and made a team called Naughty Busters. Kuko was eventually brainwashed into leaving Ichiro, after which he went back to school and got in trouble for fighting off bullies from a friend of his.

Jyushi Aimono is a visual kei vocalist for the band Argo Orchestra as well as chunni (like his seiyuu!). He had a deeply troubled past, his parents often ignoring him. Jyushi became extremely close to his grandmother, who made him a small toy pig he named Amanda. He took Amanda everywhere with him, even to school, but a former friend motivated by jealousy relentlessly bullied him and encouraged others to do the same. Eventually Jyushi's grandmother was killed as a result of their hazing, sending Jyushi into a massive spiral.

Hitoya Amaguni is a lawyer who's seemingly only motivated by money, however his true colors shine when he takes on bullying cases. His brother was bullied until it caused his death, and since then Hitoya has been hunting down the people who did it. He has an intense sympathy for Jyushi and Kuko, despite trying to appear as if he doesn't care. He took on Jyushi's case and landed his bullies in prison, as well as clearing Kuko of the charges put against him. Because of their connection, the three of them were able to form Bad Ass Temple under Kuko's guidance.

Dotsuitare Hompo

Dotsuitare Hompo, or Dotsuhon, is a team that always gets back up when they're knocked down, a team that keeps fighting to make their place even if the world is against them. They're fun and engaging, bringing the joys of Osaka to HypMic.

Sasara Nurude may not seem like a leader to the untrained eye, but digging deeper into the comedian's backstory reveals an odd intensity for someone who never stops smiling. Due to his parents' rocky marriage and messy divorce, young Sasara found comfort in comedy and making people laugh. That carried with him to college, where he met his then comedy partner, Rosho. The two took Japan by storm, but a nasty breakup shattered all of Sasara's dreams. He wasn't about to give up, going to Tokyo to get a new outlook, and meeting up with Samatoki Aohitsugi, who, at the time, reminded Sasara of Rosho. A second nasty breakup occurred when Sasara was brainwashed, and the comedian resurfaced later on as the leader of Dotsuhon.

Rosho Tsutsujimori both blends in and stands out. He suffers from intense gifted kid burnout from his parents pushing him in grade school, resulting in him gaining a violent streak that persists to this day. He entered comedy school and formed Dotsuitare Hompo with Sasara until his stage fright and mutual miscommunication broke them apart. Since then, Rosho found a career in not just being a teacher, but being someone who supports and nurtures young talent. Sasara returned to him to have him join the new Dotsuhon, though at first Rosho declined.

Rei is the lore holder here, being the man who developed the Hypnosis Mics and Ramuda Clones. His past is shrouded in mystery, but we know that he only works with the government because they are holding his wife hostage. He calls himself a conman, wickedly intelligent and crafty. He was able to get Dotsuhon together by scamming one of Rosho's students, provoking the teacher enough to get him and Sasara to admit they missed the other.

I tried to make this as basic as possible but feel free to ask about other tidbits, there's a LOT that goes on outside of the anime but it can be hard to find. Anyway I'm Emmet, your local lore keeper!

[sweetbottletops]

I wish mental health days were more accepted even a few years ago. Mitsuki’s perma-eyebags were exceptional this chapter. She’s really starting to look more like those future glimpse sketches.

Ch. 92

Mitsuki went with the western breakfast. (cc: Cafe Collaboration.)

I feel like Agu enjoys drawing his arms. There was so much arm. MA-18 for arm.

She was waving off Aya’s concerns yesterday but now that her song writing high burned off overnight she’s got a case of the nerves. Stage fright isn’t so bad when it’s the stage you picked for yourself, but she really doesn’t like eyes on her at school specifically.

(Is AC sickness like sleeping-with-wet-hair or forgetting umbrella as specific Japanese causes for getting sick?)

This is extra funny when you remember the CD shop is connected to their home.

Joe doesn’t seem to take mental health days himself. He’s been tightly wound for probably six years running. Mitsuki doesn’t seem familiar at all with him just closing up shop because he’s in the mood.

Confession time. I had to clear my schedule and watch School of Rock* for the first time tonight. I looked at the date it came out and I must have been busy. Yes, for the whole year.

It was free on Paramount+ and I got back into Stardew Valley this week (I will romance you, Haley. Stop struggling.) which is a perfect game for multitasking.

*I have seen High Fidelity, Almost Famous, Empire Records…I’m not completely uncultured.

Joe turns into a school boy when it comes to Kanna. “…you think she’ll come too?” Aw shucks, Joe. She’s waiting for you to ask anything at this point. It’s cute he immediately thought to include her. I wonder if that was their family movie.

The family head patting pecking order is:

Kanna > Joe > Mitsuki

Kanna having a serious job thats prematurely aging her vs the Kogas. See, this is what they bring to the relationship.

Meanwhile not in the group chat…Aya is going to be so worried when Koga doesn’t show up at school after the talk they had. She’s gotten used to being relied upon since around the sprained ankle situation, but Mitsuki has to reach back as well.

[honeytonedhottie]

HI honey! I am valedictorian for my school, which is obviously great, but it also means speech! I've got a really bad case of stage fright, and im scared to get on stage. What can i do?

hi anonie 🫶🏽 YOUR VALEDICTORIAN?!?! THATS SO AMAZING WOWIE 💗 congratulations, in the case of ur stage fright i recommend practicing bcuz when u are prepared for something, it helps to ease the anxiety. cuz it gives u confidence cuz you KNOW what ur saying. if that doesn't help, try the alter ego concept where u pretend to be someone who's good at speeches/good at articulating themselves. like michelle obama 🙈