#just a boi strutting across a stage

[scented-morker]

Enha when 8th member s/o has a stage accident

8th member au, gn reader (mentions a dress in hee’s part), mentions of electrocution in jw + rk’s, requested!!, 1345 words not proofread

Heeseung

He was internally screaming as soon as he saw you getting ready

You guys always like to give each other fashion shows of your outfits before performing

Like "babe look!" And then strut strut strut pose "slay me!!" 😆😆

But he knew immediately that you did not feel very slayful in your outfit

You were literally yanking it down after every step you took because it was already short and just kept riding up

You give him a "What do you think? 😕"

And he's like "I think you would look really good in a pair of pants 😁"

But the stylists don't have anything else so you have to go out in it

He keeps giving you nervous looks from across the stage

Anytime he crosses in front of you or anything he tries to cover you up or block the camera so you can readjust

Literally texts THE FREAKING CEO like "I'm concerned about the outfits given to yn, she can't perform her best while being so clearly uncomfortable"

"I'm concerned about the entire world realizing you're in love with her, but I guess I can talk to the styling staff 🤷🏻‍♀️"

OKAY BANG PD CALL HIM OUT ON THE SIMPERY LIKE THAT

But you never get an uncomfortably short outfit again... Heelift indeed 😌

Jay

Someone did not think this through 😭

You're doing your killing part in one of the songs on music bank

So obviously the camera guy gets closer to zoom in on you (werk👏👏)

BUT THEN he immediately moves to camera above your head to find Sunghoon and just WALKS INTO YOUR FACE

Ik y'all have seen that wonyo fancam... that's what I'm talking about

You literally make the most horrified face bc THIS MANS CROCH IS IN YOUR FACE

Screw professionalism, you're traumatized 😀

But man jays face is WORSE 😭😭

He's SO MAD like angry eyebrows and everything bc YOU JUST GOT VIOLATED ON LIVE TELEVISION

Walks up to you in the middle of the performance and checks on you

"Are you okay? 🥺"

You're like "yeah, talk after" and go back to performing

At the end when you drop down to a similar pose he goes in front of you 😭😭

It's fine because it wasn't your ending fairy but everyone is on Twitter like "he protects them so well 😭"

He rly does 🫶🫶 and starts a petition to at least get female camera operators next time

Jake

You guys were performing at a festival in the rain (wow so safe)

And everyone has talked before hand about being extra careful so you didn't slip

But it was such a big crowd!!! And it was your favorite song!!!

So you maybe went a little bit harder than you should have 🫣

... and fell on your face mid performance

I'm sorry but he laughs 😭😭

Like he sees you down out of the corner of his eye

Just 💃🕳 and then nothing

You give him such a dirty look when he laughs bc "YOURE SUPPOSED TO LOVE ME STOP LAUGHING!!"

So ofc he runs over after and helps you up + gives you a big hug ❤️❤️

"I'm sorry, you just looked so funny!!"

So you smack him again of course because "WHAT DO YOU MEAN I LOOK FUNNY" 😠

But he kisses your boo boo scraped knees (which of course everyone LOSES IT watching) and looks up at you with a smirk 😫😫

I CANT 😵‍💫

Sunghoon

You pretty much always had to wear heels to perform because you were so much shorter than the boys

But today man you had some BIG STOMPERS ON

Like platforms and big heels, the whole thing

And at first Hoon just laughs at you 😭😭

"You really need all that extra height?" Then he stands next to you and realizes you're still not as tall as him "and it doesn't even work!!" 😆😆

He's having the time of his life until you smack him (except he makes you kiss him after so still a win for him honestly)

But then once you guys are performing he notices that you're not moving your legs as freely as usual 🤔 (we love an observant partner <33)

He gives you a 🤷🏻‍♀️ from across the stage and you mouth back "heavy... and too big"

It's a concert and not a like show performance so he just walks over and TAKES YOUR SHOES OFF 😭😭

Like, bends down, unlaces them, takes them off and sets them by the side of the stage

You're like wow he's so sweet omg 😆 but then he goes "now you're short again" with the biggest smile and then runs away

So much for that... enjoy your sock performance 😻

Sunoo

Honestly it was really bad for you but kinda good for him 😭

You guys were performing at a fan meeting and they were gonna shoot like fireworks out at the end !!

And everyone knew it, but you were in the bathroom when they told everyone the specifics 🫣

So you were out just like casually performing, not really doing all of the choreo

More so just singing and running back and forth on the stage to say hi to everyone 🫶

But then the fireworks shootout 😭 and you were literally RIGHT NEXT TO THEM

And you’re so freaked out and they were so close and loud and you fall on your butt 😁

And the boys don’t realize it at first because they’re interacting with fans

But when you fall the whole crowd gasps 😭😭 and they’re like ????

And then Sunoo sees you on the floor half crawling away from the fireworks THAT ARE STILL SHOOTING OUT

He feels bad but he also thinks it’s really cute (😒)

But of course he helps you up 😁

And then he drags you around with him for the rest of the time

Like no you aren’t allowed to go anywhere by yourself anymore, he is holding your hand and you are going TOGETHER

Jungwon

Listen he is MAD

Like Leader Won was on high alert all day because it's been storming on and off

He was worried someone was gonna slip

But it was 10x worse 😭

You had turned your head to do a part of the choreo and some of the rain water got into your in ear

LITERALLY ELECTROCUTED YOU

It's giving Benjamin Franklin sunbaenim 😻😻

You were center for that part so all of the boys just saw you jump from the shock and then fall into a crouch covering your ears

He is IMMEDIATELY on it, running up to you and taking them out of your ears and escorting you off stage

He lowkey yells at the staff (🫣) bc "the performance should have been cancelled and now Yn's hurt!"

He doesn't want to leave you, but he has to go finish the rest of the performance

But once you're back home, he's not leaving your side

Chilling in a dark room with soft music playing so your ears don't hurt 🫶🫶

He's trending for like a week because of how scary he was 😭

Riki

Riki is the opposite of Jungwon 😭

Like he was having the time of his life performing and then he sees you drop and goes through all five stages of grief at the same time

Runs over "are you okay?!"

Except he yelled and you just got YOUR EARS ELECTROCUTED so you clutch your ears tighter bc it hurt

Once he sees you crying ITS OVER

Literally picks you up and takes you backstage, yelling to any staff in a thirty foot radius that he needs help ☹️

They lay you down in a stretcher and take you out to make sure you don't have like permanent ear drum damage or anything and he's just standing there like 😨

He has no idea what to do with himself

"Can I go with them? Please please please?"

So they let him of course bc he's cute and he WILL NOT let go of your hand for the entire time you're being treated until you're back in the dorms laid on his bed 🥹

He’s so clingy for like a week after because he was just so scared and he never wants to be away from you ☹️

[regscupid]

1/7 prompt: headache (1113 words) - @jegulus-microfic

Every year at the start of football season, Regulus’ university team holds its annual Boy Toy Charity Auction. A makeshift stage and runway are set up in whatever large, open space the event planners can secure and the players are sent out, one by one, to sell themselves to the highest bidder for the night. It’s a win for everyone really– the money goes to a good cause, the bidders get to go on dates with their pick of ‘the hottest guys on campus’, and the football players get nice, long, strokes to their egos. Regulus couldn’t have cared less about the whole thing.

And yet, here he stands in a room packed tight with people who have spent the whole night ready to throw their money at every attractive man to walk down the runway, too-loud music and voices speaking over each other sending Regulus hurtling towards a headache. Most players have already been bid on, and Regulus can feel himself getting restless.

He only came because Sirius insisted. Absolutely not because James, Sirius’ best friend and the guy he’d been mildly pining over since he was twelve, would be a part of the auction. Even less so because there had been a recent shift in their relationship, barely concealed hope growing a bit with every interaction between them. He wasn’t desperate to see who would bet on James, and how James reacted to it. Not at all.

“Do you think they’ll bid out the sound guy?” Sirius cranes his neck to get a good look at the tall man on the side of the stage, clearly trying to do as much of his job as possible without being seen. Regulus recognizes him immediately as Remus Lupin, the TA in one of his classes.

Regulus scowls, “I don’t know? I don’t care.”

Sirius bites his lip, still distracted by Remus when Regulus’ words seem to register. He turns back to Regulus, squinting. “Just because you’re getting impatient waiting for your choice bid doesn’t mean you get to have an attitude. No one likes a grouch.”

“I’m not bidding on him,” he mumbles.

Sirius nods with a look of mock contemplation, “So you’re fine with someone else bidding on him then?”

Regulus ignores the way his face heats up and his chest tightens at the thought, rolling his eyes.

“I’ll live.”

The music fades as the man at the podium begins to announce the next player.

“Alright, this is our last boy for the night, so get excited and turn out those pockets! Remember, this is for a good cause!” The music swells as the crowd cheers.

James Potter has always thrived on attention. Regulus figured it had to be some mix of being an only child and being as attractive he is. It had to have gone to his head.

So, it’s unsurprising when he bounds onto the stage, smile blinding as people in the crowd whoop and wolf whistle. Regulus watches dumbfounded as he struts to the end of the runway, before reaching down and pulling his jersey over his head, revealing the “BOY TOY” painted across his chest.

“Here we have team captain and heartthrob, James Potter! Do we have a first bid?” The announcer has to all but yell into the microphone to be heard over the crowd.

“Eighty dollars!”

“Jesus,” Sirius laughs. Regulus is not laughing.

“Eighty dollars! Do I hear eighty-five?”

Panic grips Regulus as the bid gets higher and higher. Most bids that night hadn't even reached eighty dollars, yet alone started there. Before his senses can kick in, he’s calling out a bid of his own.

“One hundred and ten!” Just out of the corner of his eye, he sees Sirius turn toward him, mouth agape. His face burns, and he can’t look at James, but he has already committed to it.

“One hundred ten! Is there a one-fifteen?

“One hundred and fifty dollars!” a woman somewhere in the crowd calls. Regulus grits his teeth.

“One-eighty,”

“One-ninety!”

Regulus groans under his breath, too aware that he only had two hundred dollars in his wallet at the moment. He turns to Sirius, who's watching with wide eyes and an amused grin. “Do you have cash on you?”

“Yeah, fifty. Why?”

“Give it to me.”

“What? No.”

“Please for the love of god, Sirius, I’ll pay you back and introduce you to the sound guy, I know him. Just do this one thing for me.”

“One-ninety going once!”

“Fine.”

“Two-fifty!”

When no one attempts to outbid him, Regulus lets out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding in since the bidding started. He finally looks at James as he begins walking backward on the runway. His smile has turned into a smirk, and he winks at Regulus before turning around and jogging backstage. Regulus’ stomach curls into not entirely unpleasant knots.

“I can’t believe I just agreed to give you fifty bucks to get with my best friend.” Sirius mumbles, before a slightly delirious laugh bubbles out of him. “I knew you couldn’t handle someone else bidding on him.”

Regulus chooses not to respond, only shoving his arm instead.

Everyone begins clearing out, either disappointed that they didn’t win any dates, celebrating their winning bids, or simply buzzing from the dramatic end to it all.

“Better go see your ‘date’. Tell Prongs to have you home by midnight or I’ll hunt you both down.”

Regulus scowls, but there's no real bite to it, the nerves beginning to get to him. He says goodnight, then works his way to the table set up next to one of the doors for payment. Just as he’s finished telling the woman his name and handing over the money, he catches James standing a few feet behind him. His arms are crossed over his chest and Regulus has to try very hard not to look down at his biceps. Not that looking at his grin dead-on was much better.

“If you wanted to go on a date that bad you could’ve just asked, you didn’t have to drop two hundred and fifty dollars on me.”

Regulus is hyper-aware of the woman sitting there watching them. So, with the payment all taken care of, he steps away from the table, expecting James to follow him out of the building. He does.

“Don’t get a big head about it.”

James rests his hand on his chest and faux-gasps, “How can I not when the Regulus Black wants that badly to go on a date with me?”

“...Do you think they do refunds?”

“No, you’re stuck with me.” James’ smile softens, and Regulus can’t help the small smile that pulls at his own lips.

[wormdebut]

13 for the wrapped game, also, you're wonderful and talented. as if spotify wrapped itself wasn't already great, now we get new worm words from it, hell Y E A H

Oh BOY LEX. Do I have a MESS of a Blurb for YOU. #13 on my Spotify Wrapped is Barbie & Ken by Scene Queen and Set It Off. Enjoy whatever this is.

——

"Eddie!" Chrissy squeals over the radio bluetooth and Eddie can't help the smile that break across his face.

"Hey Chris! How's my best girl?" Eddie hadn't seen his best friend in months. She had gone off to IU and Eddie had stayed in Chicago working on a tattoo apprenticeship.

They had both been so busy, Eddie with his work and Chrissy was busy with college and--well Chrissy had apparently went a gotten herself involved with a metal band? Eddie was very confused about the specifics, but he had finally gotten some time off and Chrissy's band had a gig in Indianapolis tonight so, they were making a vacation of it.

"I'm so excited you're coming tonight! The band is so excited to meet you! Even though they've seen pictures, they are convinced I made you up!" Chrissy giggles and Eddie laughs with her.

"Yeah, I'm sure they think I'm a garbage best friend, but I'm gonna be the loudest motherfucker there, I swear to god. First round after the shows on me!"

Chrissy keeps laughing. "I'm glad you said it, cause Stevie was already telling everybody that my imaginary best friend had the honors of first round anyway."

Chrissy had told Eddie about Stevie. Going on, and on about her. 'Stevie is a fucking musical genius.' 'You won't believe what Stevie came up with today.' 'God, I can't wait for you and Stevie to meet, you guys are gonna hit it off immediately.' He was glad that Chrissy had found a girlfriend, she deserves the best, but Eddie would have to lay it on think when he met this Stevie chick. Make sure that she takes care of his girl.

Chrissy was a raging lesbian and Eddie was Kinsey six gay, but they were platonic soulmates until death and Stevie is gonna have to know that Eddie will kill for Chrissy Cunningham.

The bar was fucking packed. Christ. Eddie should be jealous. Before he had started tattooing he had always wanted to play music, but, shit. He was just fucking proud of Chrissy.

After he had kicked back of few shots of whiskey he was able to push his way up to the front of the crowd just as the stage lights started going haywire. The crowd was yelling and Eddie lost his shit when Chrissy came strutting out in a hot pink skater dress and chunk black doc martens. Her hair was pulled into ridiculously perky pigtails. How this was going to be a metal performance Eddie was very unsure, but he was excited as fuck to see her in anyway.

"Hiya Indy!" Chrissy yells. Eddie yells back with the audience and Chrissy squeals in the mic when she sees Eddie cheering for her. "Hi Eds!" She runs up grabbing his hand and Eddie laughs, squeezing her hand quickly, before she pulls away. "I'm Chrissy Cunningham and me and my band Versailles are super excited to be back here. Well, without further ado my boys are gonna come out here and we'll get this party started huh?"

The crowd goes wild and Eddie watches as three men come running out. There's a drummer, a bassist, and a guitarist. Eddie is stoked as hell. Watching as Chrissy hypes up the band. He hears someone in the crowd yell "Where's Steve?"

Chirssy ears perk up. "Stevie? Oh I'm sure Stevie's around here somewhere let me just--" She pulls out a hot pink flip phone. Eddie lets out a loud laugh as he recognizes the damn thing as Chrissy's first phone, from seventh grade. His laughter is cut short as a dial tone starts playing over the speakers

It's a bit.

"Hi Stevie! I--I mean Ken…Um…Are you free right now? I have a song that I need you on. Like now?" Chrissy speaks into the microphone, and the crowd zeroes in on Chrissy as she 'calls' for Stevie. Eddie is so busy being impressed with his best friends stage presence he almost misses the smoke show that comes running out from stage right.

He's pretty sure he should pick his fucking jaw up from the floor. The man has on the tightest jeans Eddie has ever seen tucked into clunky combat boots, framing his ass…quite nicely. His hair is styled far too perfect for a metal show, but Eddie is not complaining. The kicker though, is the hot pink tactical vest he has on over his shirtless, very hairy--fuck--chest. Is this a concert or is this one of Eddie's fucked up sexual fantasies?

Eddie snaps his mouth shut, eyes wide as he stares at Chrissy and…Stevie.

Oh Shit.

Eddie watches as Stevie--Steve--the source of Eddie's very confused boner right now--whatever the hell his name is--pulls the flip phone out of her hand and leans into the mic.

They both smile right at Eddie. He swears he sees Chrissy wink.

"Let's Party."

Eddie is both entertained and internally tormented throughout the rest of the show. Chrissy knew exactly what she was doing, forgetting to mention that Stevie was a) A man and b) exactly Eddie's fucking type.

Eddie liked pretty boys, and apparently this pretty boy knew how to scream, which--that was--that was doing for Eddie.

Throughout the show Eddie picked up that Chrissy did a fair amount of clean vocals and Steve did a mix between cleans and screaming. Versailles as a whole was actually pretty good, but Eddie was going to have to apologize to Chrissy, because he only had eyes for Steve.

Should he be embarrassed for popping a boner at his apparently metalheaded best friends show? Probably, but--he was not. Steve was fucking hot.

He was also a fucking menace. He kept running up to Eddie, grabbing at his hands, leaning down to scream in his fucking face, and Chrissy, when she caught him doing it, just smirked.

Eddie was gonna kill her.

Eddie leaned against the bar, waiting as the crowd around Versailles died down and spread out. He caught Chrissy's eye as she hopped off the stage running up to Eddie at full speed. She jumped into his arms, "Eddieee!"

Eddie huffed out a laugh. "You have so much explaining to do." He whispered into her ear.

Chrissy just laughed as Eddie set her down, smiling from ear to ear. "Yeah, and I think you owe a pretty boy a drink."

[cillianmesoftlyyy]

At the Cabaret Pt. 2 | Tommy Shelby x fem!character

Summary: After agreeing to help Tommy, Lenore realizes exactly what working with the Peaky Blinders entails. Espionage doesn't come as easily as she'd hoped. Tonight is the night that she tries to get at Kimber, just as Tommy asked.

Warnings: Heavy misogyny, objectification, sexual harassment, mentions of sexual assault, and emetophobia. All around pretty heavy stuff and it'll only get worse so please read with caution!! Written from a historical perspective, music included in the storyline are in a 20s style. Please don't interact if any of these topics are uncomfortable or upsetting. Take care of yourself!

word count: 3908k

I've Got What It Takes- Virginia Liston 🎶

Maschin- Bilderbuch 🎵

Chelsea Dagger- The Fratellis 🎶

Not proofed- my b folks!

She shared a flat with some of the dancers around the corner from the Cabaret. That’s where she woke up the next morning and where she got ready for rehearsal. She slept in till 2 and took her time gathering the costume materials she’d been working on that week. She and Lucy walked over together, barely speaking, shivering from the cold. For Lucy’s own safety, Lenore hadn’t told her what had transpired in the spare dressing room. She let her assume that all Tommy wanted was to seduce her and that maybe he’d been successful. 

They conducted rehearsals with a pianist but the full band came in later in the evening, closer to show time. Her number for that evening was one of the more promiscuous routines she’d prepared. 

She changed into a nude colored bodysuit made of stocking material. The hem around each leg was lined with faux pearls, framing her pelvis. There were clusters of pearls on each breast and on her cunt. A train of white ostrich feathers was pinned at her tailbone and brushed the floor below. She had a pearl choker and long white satin gloves. The zipper on the back of the costume was hidden by a trail of pearls down to her coccyx. Lucy added sticky pearls to her eyes and temples, someone brushed light blue shadow like a mask across her eyes and the ridge of her nose. She got her shoes buckled and a large white cape before going up to the stage. She went on alone, her hands holding either end of the cape together. 

“Good evening, boys!” She smiled flirtatiously. The men called back, the air warm from their boasting and drinking. 

“Gee, is it cold in here to you?” She asked innocently, shivering. The men shouted different responses and she shifted her weight onto her left hip. 

“Hmmm, we better warm the room up before I take this off, boys.” She suggested and the men whooped. “Now, how can we do that?” She asked and waited for the men to whistle and shout. 

“I’ll warm you up, love!” One man hollered. 

“Oh don’t I know it but, that’d ruin all the fun, wouldn’t it?” She purred into the microphone. “I’ll tell you what, I’ll sing a little song and you’ll all clap because you’re such good boys and you know that I like my praise, right?” She teased and the men applauded excitedly, “And it’ll get me so hot and bothered that I’ll have to take this thing off, won’t I?” She smiled and stuck her bare leg through the slit in the coat, the crowd roared. “All right then, band, you heard the men.” She called over her shoulder to the band. The band started playing “I’ve Got What It Takes” and she turned her back on the audience, strutting slowly upstage towards the curtain. She shrugged off the cape, showing off her bare shoulders with the small trail of pearls starting at the nape of her neck. She looked over her shoulder and wiggled the cape back on and hugged it around her waist. When she turned, she kicked her leg out and hiked up the cape to show her bare thigh. She returned to the microphone and shrugged the cape off of one shoulder and started to sing the racy song with a pouty rasp. 

I’ve got what it takes 

but it breaks my heart to give it away

I’ve been saving it all for a mighty long time 

To give it away will be more than a crime

She searched intentionally for Billy Kimber in the audience, checking all of the usual tables. The house was dark for the show but she managed to spot him by the wall of oxidized mirrors on her right. He was seated close to the stage in a large booth, full of men she assumed were his partners. Kimber had sent her flowers before but he’d never sought her out, he liked to get what he wanted without a fight and she always put up a fight. She knew having Tommy there would put him on edge, encourage him to show Tommy who’s turf the Cabaret club was and which girls he owned by extension. She would be grouped into that, however, she’d never had a real conversation with him. She looked for Tommy in the audience but couldn’t find him in the mess of drunkards and fat cats littered around the small tables in the front section of seats.  

Your eyes may roam, your teeth my grit 

But none of my small change shall you get

I’ll let you look at my bank but

I’ll never let you feel my purse

She shrugged off the cape of the other shoulder and held the cap against her breasts. The audience could see some of her legs through the wider slit in the cape and she teased the men by moving them to the beat. She dared herself to look at Kimber and invited his gaze back as she sang, a small promising smile tugging at her lips. He smiled slyly, his lips curled like a villain. He glued his eyes to her as she slowly shifted the cape around her body. The trumpet solo started and she tugged at the cape’s edges, dragging them around her breasts and waist. She moaned dramatically as she removed her arm from one sleeve and let the cape on one side drop, revealing a costume that to any man in the audience, looked as though she was actually naked below the sticky pearls (though she arguably was because the stocking material was so thin). 

Holding the fabric against her crotch, she cupped her breast with her other hand. The crowd hollered with approval, demanding more, so with one more twirl, she tossed off her cape to a stagehand and hurried back to the microphone with fast feet, repeating a section of the song.

I’ve got what it takes 

but it breaks my heart to give it away

I’ve been saving it all for a mighty long time 

To give it away will be more than a crime

Daddy, take your hands away

I believe in safety first

The crowd laughed as she pulled a condom from her shoe, trailing a finger from her ankle bone to her cunt and then up to the air. She threw the condom into the audience and returned her suggestive eyes to Kimber. 

Now you want my money 

And my plan to save it all for a real good man

It breaks my heart to give it all away!

She finished and bowed to the clapping audience. 

“Thank you, boys! I think that really worked, I don’t know how I'm gonna put clothes on now, after this!” She joked and blew kisses, blowing one pointedly at Kimber who raised his hand to catch it. When he lowered his hand, he grabbed at his bulging crotch and she hid the way it made her stomach turn, trying to smile. She stalked off the stage and caught a bucket just in time to vomit. She wiped her mouth and gagged again. 

“Gee, you pregnant, Nore?” Clara whispered when she came up for air, she was waiting to go on. 

“No, just nerves.” She lied with a groan and apologized to the stagehand who had to clean the bucket after. She went back down into the dressing room. When she sat down at the dressing table, she caught herself crying in the mirror and wiped away her tears. Lucy came in a few minutes later with a glass of water.

“Nore, you’re so pale. Drink some water now.” 

She took the water from Lucy and took a few sips but her stomach turned again. “Could you get me some whiskey, Luce?” She cradled her head. Lucy hurried into the spare dressing room and fetched her a small glass of whisky.

“Is everything ok, Nore?” She asked softly, eyeing the younger dancers watching them. 

“Yeah, Luc. It's nothing, I promise. You know how I hate to go out in things like this. I always think I'll be fine and then I see how they react and it scares me.” She tried to cover it up with the story and downed the whisky in one fast motion. 

“What are you gonna do now since you don’t have a second performance tonight?” Lucy asked. 

“I want to get out of this.” She reached behind her head and unzipped the bodysuit. 

Johnny came rushing in and the changing girls shrieked in surprise. 

“Jesus, Johnny. Don’t you fucking knock?” Lenore held the fabric to her chest. 

“Sorry, sorry. This couldn’t wait. Billy Kimber invited you to join him in his booth for the rest of the evening. What should I say?” He cleared his throat anxiously. 

Her eyes widened and she stuttered, “Sure, let me change. I’ll be out there soon.” She agreed quickly and Lucy exchanged looks with Johnny. Johnny nodded and hurried back out. 

“Sudden change of heart about the cats you dislike so much, Nore?” Luce teased with raised eyebrows. 

“Something like that.” She grimaced and let her bodysuit fall to the floor at her feet. 

“What do you want to wear?” Lucy asked as she went through Lenore’s small collection of normal clothes saved for moments like this. 

“The brown silk, I think.” She combed her hair as Lucy selected the dress from the rack. The dress looked like a camisole with a paneled skirt. She slipped the dress over her head and wiped away the blue makeup from her face. Lucy helped her remove the sticky pearls and put them carefully back into the makeup box. She chose a darker lipstick and straightened her white gloves. “You should wear the mink,” Lucy handed her the white mink coat she shared with Clara when they met wealthy clients. 

“Good idea.” She nodded and put it on quickly. She headed for the door when Lucy yelled out suddenly.

“Nore, you forgot stockings!” She pointed to her bare legs and Lenore chuckled. 

“Even better.” She let the door close behind her and exited out the side door into the audience. Johnny was introducing a short dance number while Clara changed for her second act. She approached Kimber’s table with a calm smile. He stood and stretched out his arms. 

“Your best performance by far!” He praised in his slippery tone of voice that always sounded like he was whining. 

“Aw thanks, Mr. Kimber.” She bit her lip and nodded at the table, “do you have room for one more gal?” 

“We sure do, doll.” He shooed the people over to make room for her. She had no choice but to take the seat between Kimber and another man, the accountant or lawyer from the academic look of him. She straightened her dress when she took her seat and purposefully brushed her hand against the boy’s thigh, testing to see if he would be much of a threat while she was sweet talking Kimber. 

“Sorry!” She whispered sweetly and he blushed harshly. 

“Fine, ‘s fine.” He scrambled to move a little more. 

Kimber slid into the booth beside her and whistled for a passing waiter. 

“What does the lady want to drink?” 

“Whiskey, please.” She winked at the waiter and put a hand on Kimber’s shoulder, resting her chin on top of her hand. “Thanks, daddy.” 

“Anything for Lady Lenore.” He laughed and the rest of the table laughed with him, she smiled. “Who’s on next?” He gestured to the stage full of dancers performing choreography. 

“Clara Whitney.”

“Oh, isn’t that the girl with the fat ass?” Kimber shouted across the table at his buddy and they laughed heartily. The waiter returned with her drink and she took a long sip, hoping to escape the current direction of conversation. 

“Aw, don’t be jealous now! I’m sorry, doll.” He placed a hand on her knee and dragged it upwards to her thigh. “Say, were you really naked beneath those pearls?” He whispered in her ear, spit flying against her neck. 

“I never reveal my tricks, Mr. Kimber, and I always keep my secrets.” She smiled seductively, “do you have any secrets to share? We could swap.” She laughed lightly and rubbed his thigh with her gloved hand. 

“Well, doll, what would you say to a new club owner?” He tipped her chin up and smiled, showing his yellowed teeth and lingering sour breath. 

“How exciting Mr. Kimber!” She squealed, “will that make you my new daddy?”

“Owner, sponsor, and boss, the big man himself.” 

“That’s such a good secret… I don’t know how I could possibly come up with something better!” she whispered and wiggled on the seat. 

“Oh, I think you know what I want to hear, doll.” He pushed his hand up farther to the silk lining of her underwear. “Exactly how naked were you beneath those pearls?”

“Abso-tutely bare, daddy.” She gasped and he laughed. 

“That’s music to my ears.”

She downed the rest of her glass and laughed loudly. “Is that the only reason why you’re buying the club, Mr. Kimber, so that you can see me naked?” She teased, swatting at his chest. 

“That’s the best reason, doll. And besides, I wouldn’t want your talent wasted on Small Heath criminals.” 

“We get only the best criminals, huh?” She fixed his pocket square and winked. He smiled and nodded. 

“Smart girl. Now sit back and be pretty, let’s watch the next girl.” He signaled for more whiskey from the waiter and draped an arm around her shoulders, his hand indiscreetly squeezing her tit. “Is this fake fur, doll?” He laughed harshly and she grimaced. 

“Is it that obvious?”

“I’ve never seen an animal that looks quite like this, doll.” He laughed again and patted her cheek, “once I own the whole of this block, I’ll buy you a fur coat. A real one too.” He whispered against her ear and she tried to smile gladly. 

“You’ll spoil me, Mr. Kimber!” 

She managed to excuse herself after Clara’s number pleading exhaustion. 

When she passed Kimber, he grabbed her wrist and spoke darkly into her ear. 

“You’re a fucking tease. I’ll expect something more next time, yeh?” He spanked her hard and she stumbled forward. She said nothing and smiled. Escaping through the stage door, she almost ran to the dressing room. When she closed her eyes, she saw his waxy face and curling tongue that threatened to violate her. Tommy had backed her into a corner with this favor. Kimber would expect more from her if she kept asking questions and flirting for answers. Tommy had promised that he’d look out for her but she hadn’t even seen him in the audience that night. 

Small Heath criminals, that’s what Kimber had called them and she gripped the edge of her seat with all her strength. He used Small Heath as an insult, oblivious that she was herself from the working-class neighborhood. God, she hated Tommy for this but she hated Kimber even more. 

…

Tommy was waiting for her at her flat, smoking a cigarette against the brick siding, his hat pulled down to hide his eyes. She shooed Lucy inside the flat. He waited till she had closed the door behind her before speaking. 

“How’d it go tonight?” He looked around the street to make sure no one was watching. 

“Fine. You know, I really don’t like this Tommy. The things I had to do to get him comfortable enough to tell me things… I feel like I’m trapped. He’s going to make me do things, I’m sure of it.”

“It won’t happen. I’m giving you my word, it won’t.” He shook his cigarette gently with each word. She looked into his eyes and blinked away stinging tears. 

Taking a breath she started, “he has plans to buy the cabaret and eventually, the whole street. I don’t know how he plans to do that while you already own or protect most of the businesses on the street. It sounded like he was planning on taking them if he couldn’t buy them from you.” She said slowly. “He didn’t say anything else but it’s clear he has something planned.” She pulled the mink closer around her chest and shivered. 

Tommy nodded and looked up at the neighboring apartments. 

“Good.” He said finally and she sighed softly, releasing clouds of air into the dark around them. 

“What are you going to do, Tommy?” She asked.

“I'll put two blinders by your father’s flat starting tonight.” He put out his cigarette beneath his shiny black boots and looked at his pocket watch. The church bells would soon ring three times. Day laborers would wake in two hours at 5am.

“That isn’t what I meant.” She shook her head and he studied the glass casing on the streetlight beside us, his face lit up in the warm yellow light. 

“I know.” He brushed her off and she kept herself from laughing, finding the whole interaction too overwhelming to treat seriously. 

“I thought you had asked to see me last night because you wanted to fuck me. Use me like one of your whores but you didn’t. You’ve changed like we all have but despite what you believe, Tommy, my brother’s best friend, is still in there.” 

He swallowed and put his watch back into his pocket. His eyes bore into her, picking apart her soul like a daisy. 

“You think so?” He asked with a hint of skepticism, his brow raised. 

“Yeah,” she nodded and tried to calm her anxious heart, “yeah I do.” 

He smiled painfully and laughed, “You and Polly seem to think I’m a better man than I am.” 

“We’ll have to see,” her head felt fuzzy from the whiskey, “for all I know, you're a horrible man.” 

“That sounds more realistic, Lenore.” He answered honestly and stared her down, a warning: you guessed correctly, Nore.

“Maybe but you’re not like Kimber, Tommy. I work at a Cabaret, I get to know men fairly well.”

“But you don’t know me anymore, Lenore. We aren’t kids anymore.” 

“And yet, you look just like you did when you were eighteen.” She smiled, “and unfortunately, so do I.” 

“Nah,” he smiled softly, “you look older, wiser.” He crossed his arms over his chest. 

“That’s from the cold-cream shortage,” she laughed and pointed to her skin. 

“I’ll have to get on that myself, eh?” He joked softly and she shook her head gently. 

“No, you don’t need it. You’re beautiful, Tommy.” She took a shaky step closer and put a finger against his smooth cheek, tracing the almond colored freckles. 

“Don’t say that, Lenore.” He looked away and cleared his throat. 

“Why?” She asked softly, wanting his eyes to look into her’s.

“We can’t.” He answered evenly and took her hand from his face. He kissed her knuckles and dropped her hand, “I can’t.” He pushed himself off of the wall and walked away, his large black coat wavering with each step. She stood frozen on the pavement and watched him leave, her heart throbbing like a sore thumb. She scoffed and went up into her flat, their backs to each other as they went their separate ways. Tommy looked back to check that she went inside and continued on, lighting up another cigarette.

She had three performances on Friday night, the third was shared with Clara when they did a duet. She didn’t see Billy Kimber when she went out for her first two acts and she managed to sigh a breath of relief while she was on stage. For the duet act, they each wore a tailored tuxedo with their hair slicked back beneath top hats. They were introduced as “the two dapper gentlemen from out of town,” which sparked knowing laughter from the audience. When they took the stage, they entered on opposite sides and met at their shared microphone. The crowd ogled, struggling to determine if the performers were actually men or cabaret dancers. She pitied them in their drunk state. 

“Good evening, gents! I’ve just been walking by and I stumbled upon this club of yours.” She lowered her voice to sound more masculine.  

“My brother’s been stuck alone in the country for too long, he can’t tell a whore from a bedpost. So, I thought I’d take him by your Cabaret!” Clara matched Lenore’s mannerisms, lowering her voice and slapping her on the back. 

“Oh, ladies!” Clara called dramatically and the dancers hurried onstage with their bras and painties, stockings rolled down below their knees. The band began playing “Chelsea Dagger” and one dancer draped her boa over Lenore’s shoulders, pulling her in for a kiss on the mouth. The crowd exploded with excitement. The dancer went back to her line and they started dancing, kicking their legs in the air and jumping around. 

Well, you must be a girl with shoes like that 

She said you know me well

I seen you and little Steven and Joanna 

Round the back of my hotel

Oh yeah

The dancers shoved her hands into the insides of Lenore and Clara’s suit jackets, feeling them up in front of the audience. Lenore and Clara alternated segments, interacting with the dancers when it wasn’t their time to sing. Lenore took the mic.

I was good she was hot

Stealin’ everything she got 

I was bold she was over the worst of it 

Gave me gear, 

 Lucy stepped between her and the microphone and bent down, her ass pressed into Lenore’s crotch. 

thank you dear!

She squealed in character and the audience laughed. Clara switched in.

Bring yer sister over here 

Let her dance with me just for the hell of it 

During the dance number that Clara and Lenore shared, the dancer ran out into the audience, picking men to dance with. Lenore and Clara did a short routine of American folk dancing before they switched into tap, completing a few cincinnati steps before the next verse. More dancers came onstage, grabbing all over their bodies. One girl removed Lenore’s hat and put it on herself before trailing her hands down the front of Lenore’s body. They sang the next segment together:

Chelsea Chelsea I believe that 

When you’re dancing 

Slowly sucking your sleeve

The boys get lonely after you leave 

It’s one for the Dagger and

Another for the one you believe

The audience exploded into a mess of feathers, dancing, and laughter. The band played on while the remaining dancers on stage stripped Lenore and Clara of their outer clothing. Lenore, laughing, looked up and caught sight of Tommy Shelby standing by the doorway into the main floor. She smiled, fully aware that he could probably see her tits through the wife-beater she was wearing. She winked and he chuckled, shaking his head and dragging on his cigarette. His hat was shoved into his vest pocket and his hair was tussled. When the band played the final note, she and Clara bowed. Fragments of light and feathers drifted through the air around them. When she looked back, Tommy was gone, his place by the door frame empty and cold without him. When she walked into her dressing room she found a bouquet of flowers with an attached note: Come with me to the races tomorrow- T.S. She dropped the note against the vase and shook her head in disbelief. 

_________

End of part 2 :)

[togamest]

chapter 1: cave in

❝ i'll tie my handlebars to the stars so i stay on track, and if my intentions stray, I'll wrench them away...then I'll take my leave, and I won't even look back. ❞

word count: 3,188 content: no reader mention, mention of character death, alcohol and drug usage, grief, seeing ghosts, mentions of blood & gore a/n: here is chapter one! this is a lot of lore building and setting the stage for reader to appear next chapter — you'll see them very soon, don't worry! i didn't intend for izana to appear in this chapter or in this fic in general, but given how owl city focuses a lot on schizophrenia and mental health and all that jazz, i figured having him around as a guiding compass for kaku would be really sweet <3 tags: @suyacho @qichun @kenpachisbrat @highpri3stess @fengxun @benkeibear @bleach-your-panties @enchantedforest-network @thehoneypotserver

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Kakucho is bored.

Well, "bored" may not be the best way to describe his feelings. What do you call the sense that nothing matters to you anymore? The numbness that sinks in after you've lost the one thing that made it all worth it? Whatever that is, Kakucho feels it deep inside of his bones as he wanders into the warehouse after Koko to inspect the latest shipment from one of their overseas partners.

Koko is much more suited to this lifestyle, although he's not the only one under crippling stress, much that he's placed on himself. He's dyed his hair white, and Kakucho can't help but laugh at recalling how close it is to Inui's shocking blonde hair. They'd match, oddly enough. He didn't seem to react the same way after everything shook out, but something definitely changed—warped—in him since Inui deserted him. The details behind that separation are kept behind tight lips, but Kakucho can read a room. It wasn't good.

A sigh from Koko forces him to return to the present instead of meandering on that thought stream. "This all looks good," he says simply to the worker as he tucks a clipboard underneath his arm. The worker says nothing, responding with a short nod before making the preparations to move the stacks of drugs onto another palette. Koko moves back outside, Kakucho following him quietly behind as they pause on the dock, staring across the ocean.

It's pretty today.

The breeze is full of summer warmth, the sun sparkling on the ocean's deep blue waves lapping at the shore deep below their feet. He could stay out here forever if he wanted to, his eyes sliding shut as he basks in the sunshine. Koko says nothing, simply allowing him time to soak up the sun; he knows they both need it, having been inside dealing with the Haitanis and Sanzu's shitshow relationship with Takeomi. It had been horrible lately; the boys were getting stir-crazy, and Koko had to wrangle them. 

The man in question lights up a cigarette, offering a drag to Kakucho with thin fingers, painted nails flashing in his vision as he takes it, allowing the nicotine to smoothen his mind for just a moment.

"Izana would have loved this."

Kakucho's head snaps around to look at Koko. He's staring at the ocean, unblinking, his eyes narrowed. The cigarette is back in his hand, but it rests at his side, untouched, barring Kakucho's usage. There are no remnants of sadness on his face, but rather a steeled resolve etching itself into the stress wrinkles beginning to show on his skin. He doesn't sound like he's going to elaborate, and Kakucho doesn't know what forces him to say it, but he doesn't have the heart to stop himself after he hums in agreement.

"Inui would, too."

He's met with a scoff, a flash of hurt echoing across Koko's face before it's gone, the blank, analytical facial expression taking its place so fast that it's as if Kakucho imagined it. He places the cigarette in Kakucho's hands before turning on his heel, strutting back to the car, throwing over his shoulder that Kakucho doesn't have to accompany him back. "Take this spare time when you can get it," he says before sliding into the car and disappearing on silent tires. He's still not sure why he lit the damn thing in the first place, but he takes another rip; something tells him that he looked as if he needed it, not Koko.

Now, it's just Kakucho, the sun, and the sea.

With a visitor. A typical visitor these days.

He can see him. He can see Izana sitting on the pier, swinging his legs in front of him. His old Tenjiku jacket is stained blood red, mixing with the lighter red of the cloth in a horrific display of gore. The gunshot wound is still there, a massive hole in his chest, though no more blood will spill from it. Nothing else about him has changed; his silver hair still brushes against his chin as he moves his head, the earring that Kakucho now has tattooed on himself as a remembrance tinkling in the wind, the only reminder that he's here in front of him. Izana leans back on his hands, looking up at Kakucho with those beautiful lavender eyes, and Kakucho feels his own going glassy.

Now, now, he hears Izana's voice speak so clearly in his mind, as if he's here with him; there's no need for tears, alright, Kaku? Sit with me.

He abides by his ghost's wishes, taking a seat with a huff on the pier's edge. He doesn't reach for Izana's hand. It won't connect; he's tried it before. Instead, he simply sits with the apparition of his friend, smoking the rest of the cigarette, the breeze shifting through the trees, the waves hitting the shore so gently. It's like a painting right before him, one he can simply reach out and touch whenever he wants.

Are you happy, Kaku?

He scoffs again, ignoring Izana's stare into his soul. He knows he's looking at him, and he can tell without checking the expression on his face. There was this face Izana would make whenever Kakucho lied to him; white lies, big lies, whatever it was, he'd know. He chalked it up to being able to read people well, but Kakucho knew better; Izana was paranoid. Paranoid that Kakucho would leave him, that he'd be alone again even after all those nights spent together with Kakucho whispering to him that he would never think about doing that to him. He'd never.

He immediately jokes that it seems like Izana is okay with abandoning him. It stings.

"I s'pose," he says shortly, watching the cigarette smoke curl into the sky. It's a pale white, almost see-through. The nicotine continues to settle into his bloodstream as he looks back down at the ocean waves lapping at the shore. Happy. What an elusive word in a business that is so violent, full of bloodshed and rage and anger. How can he truly be happy when the one thing that did make him happy is no longer here? How does that work?

You're not. You're lying, Kaku. I can tell when you're—

"Yeah, yeah," he groans, rolling his eyes and finally turning to look at Izana, "I know."

Izana's laugh sounds like wind chimes, the type that mothers hang outside of their kitchen windows that ring and sing whenever the breeze hits them. She'll lightly tap them when it's time to come home, to settle into the kitchen, and have whatever food is on the docket for that evening. Something that Kakucho has only read about but never truly experienced; the love of a mother, or parents for that matter. A family. At least Izana had a parent as absent and unforgiving as she was.

They sit silently for a while after that, Izana kicking his feet off the pier and Kakucho finishing his cigarette as he presses it against the wet pier, successfully dousing it.

What will you do?

The question takes Kakucho by surprise. "What?" he croaks, and Izana's lips crack into a smile.

What will you do about making yourself happy again?

"Dunno. How'm I supposed to be happy when you're not here?"

Izana's face shifts into a frown.

You have Koko, and the Haitanis, and—

"They're not you!"

His voice sounds like thunder as he snarls, cutting Izana's sentence off. The rage goes as quickly as it comes, the blood in his veins cooling as he realizes how irritable he's been lately. Ever since the wake for Izana, he's not felt the same since then. He's not felt happy since then. What was there to be happy about when the one thing that kept him going suddenly disappeared? Fucking Kisaki—

He doesn't realize his fists are balled up in his lap until Izana's ghostly touch brushes against his skin. It's the first time Izana has properly touched him and the first time it's actually worked. This whole haunting thing is still new to Kakucho, but he doesn't mind it; how could he? He's got a chance to remember his best friend; why would he question something like that?

Izana's smile is warm, like a blazing fire compared to how cold he feels.

You should go back to where I'm from. It should do something for you.

"The Philippines?"

Yes. Maybe you'll find someone who can help you. Some time away could do you some good.

He had been working a lot lately. He deserved some time off, even though every single one of his paid time off requests had been denied by Koko because he's "the only one I can trust" for some reason. Although, between the choice of him, Mochi, and the Haitanis and Sanzu, he can imagine why Koko thinks that. He's undoubtedly the most reliable, although not as craft as the Haitanis and certainly not as batshit as Sanzu. Not to mention, Takeomi isn't one for dirty work; he prefers to sit on his throne and watch everything play out in front of him. He's more like Taiju Shiba than he lets on.

However, at least Taiju donned his jacket and fought when needed.

He thinks about it some more. "What do I say to Koko?"

Do you really have to say anything?

His eyes go wide. "You mean…go AWOL?"

Why not? It's time they realized they're using you, Kaku. You're not happy, I can tell. 

He nods to himself. "I'll think about it."

Izana's smile is so large it could rival the sun's rays. Good.

The club is so sweaty and hot that Kakucho feels like he's melting.

Even in the VIP section above the music, the heat is unreal. Something about heat rising floats through his brain as he leans back, some sweet thing on his hip with cotton candy lip gloss pressing against his cheek. She's clad in almost no clothing, and he doesn't know her name, only that she fancies him. He needed someone to get his mind off his heavy talk with Izana.

AWOL. He could, he really could just leave. He doesn't have a last name; he could find a new one. The wedge might force Bonten to collapse; he thinks about Sanzu attempting to take over his position of watching over Koko, and Koko's face alone causes him to chuckle. The girl asks him what's so funny, but he shakes his head and waves her off. She shrugs and continues her movements, although clearly frustrated with no returns on her advancements.

A slender hand reaches for her cheek, tugging her in another direction, and Kakucho's gaze follows her to where she lands, right in Ran Haitani's lap.

He grins at Kakucho as the pretty thing slides onto him, his large hands resting on her waist. She's pretty stunning, he'll admit that; definitely more Ran's type with the bubblegum aura she has coming off of her. Her gaze is needy, doe eyes staring up at Ran as his own slide closed, leaning back against the couch as she does her handiwork.

A clap on his shoulder forces Kakucho to turn to the side and meet Rindou's purple gaze.

Rindou's eyes are not the same as Izana's, he's noticed. While Izana's were cold, steeled, and unwavering, Rindou's were more…smooth. Sensual. He was ready to con any moron who walked into the club out of a few thousand dollars and their dignity if he really wanted to make the guy squirm. He makes a good pair with Ran, who's just a different flavor of grimy; sure, he may not cheat once he finds a girl, but the problem lies in the question being asked.

He's drinking something tropical with an umbrella stuck in it.

"Kaku-chan," he slurs, and the signifier automatically has Kakucho's lip curling. "Kaku-chan? Jesus, Rindou, how much have you had?" he says gruffly, but the purple-haired man only laughs, rolling his eyes. "Who cares, man," he says, a little more coherent, "ya look bummed the fuck out. What's goin' on in that brain of yours up there?"

It's not like Rindou to get so personal, but his resolve begins to slip once he's had a few. Kakucho's seen it happen before, and it happened just like this. He knows his honeyed words aren't going to help his mood—

"Ya look like ya need a vacation, man."

The sentence has Kakucho floored. How the fuck did he know that? He thinks as he stares at Rindou, who has now realized his words are landing coherently, and a massive, drunken smile pulls at his lips. The dimples on his cheeks are small but present as he does so; Kakucho resists the urge to reach out and poke them, one by one. His face is a soft red, covered in blush from the drinks and the cocaine that's been laid out in front of them.

"I do?" he asks, not knowing what to say beyond questioning him. Rindou nods, taking another massive swig of his drink before placing it on the table and looking back up at him. "Yeah, y'do," he nods solemnly, "and frankly, y'deserve it. You've done a lot f'us, y'know? Always helpin' Koko out, makin' sure we don't do any stupid shit—"

"Yeah, well, you end up doing it anyway, so I must be doing a shit job." His tone is firm, but he can't help chuckling at Rindou's sentiments. They might be empty, but they're something.

Rindou's laugh is high-pitched and nasally as he slaps his thigh. "Ha! Well, y'do ya best, I'll say that much," he says, nodding as if he's made a great joke.

There's some silence between them, the music taking the place of the lack of words before Rindou looks at him. It's with a different expression, and his eyes seem much clearer, almost like the drugs are wearing off…or kicking in. Kakucho can barely tell the difference anymore. However, there's something knowing in his eyes, chilling Kakucho's blood. The heat around him feels nonexistent under Rindou's gaze; it's like he's caught in a predator's web as if he's seeing if Kakucho would dip like that.

"You know," he says slowly, his hand clapping on Kakucho's shoulder a little too firmly, "if ya ever did just fuck off to who knows where, I won't tell anyone. Scout's honor or whatever the fuck people say."

"I'm not planning on going anywhere."

"Yes, y'are. Can see it in ya face."

Kakucho blinks. "Fuck off, Rindou," he growls, but Rindou shakes his head.

"I'm bein' f'real, Kakucho. Don't think anyone was as fucked up as you were after Izana. You were his best friend, man; I get it if ya feel like ya have to escape—"

Kakucho's voice is ice as he gently lifts Rindou's hand from his shoulder, placing it back onto his lap. "Don't you dare speak his name," he says, his tone so terrifying that Rindou's eyes widen as he begins to stand, "and don't you dare tell me that you get it. You don't. You love this life. You love the attention, the drugs, the fucking women, you love it all. I don't. I'm not made for this shit. It's obvious—"

Rindou's hand grabbing his pants leg has him pause, and his response has him turning around again.

"So leave."

"What?" It comes out as a hiss.

"Leave. Go. Go tonight, man. Just fuck off. If ya don't like it, don't stay. You're a grown fuckin' man, aren't ya?"

"Fuck off, Rindou."

And with that, Kakucho grabs his coat and stalks out into the cold night air. It hits him as soon as he steps foot outside of the club, one of the doormen running up to him and asking if he needs a ride. He shakes his head. It'll do him some good to walk alone as he begins to wander down the street. He's sober, having not touched alcohol since Izana's death (he'd had a long battle with alcohol after that, to the point where he'd be betraying Izana himself if he put a bottle to his lips again). He almost wished he wasn't as he pulls his coat tighter around him.

He can see Izana next to him, so much shorter than him but somehow keeping pace.

Rindou means well, you know.

"Yeah, he sure fuckin' sucks at showing it," he groans, curling over himself to light up a cigarette. Izana doesn't comment on it, but Kakucho can see in his eyes that there's a fleeting sadness there. Sadness that Kakucho has kept up such a toxic habit.

You shouldn't smoke those.

"Oh yeah, and go back to the bottle? You've seen me on that. Trust me, this is better."

Izana shrugs. I guess.

There's quiet after that as Kakucho wanders. The street gives way to fewer streetlights, the stars above him sparkling and taking his breath away as he looks up. He sees Izana looking up at him, a grin tugging at his lips. They're so pretty tonight, aren't they? He says, and Kakucho nods, taking a seat on a nearby bench to take a load off. He takes a drag from the cigarette, leaning back against the bench. Izana settles next to him. It's not that he has to since he's dead and his legs don't tire out, but it's a nice gesture.

Rindou wanted you to leave.

"Was that you? Putting thoughts in his head?"

No. I can only be seen by you. You know this.

Kakucho sighs. "Yeah, it'd be cool if that wasn't the case, but thanks for making me feel special."

Kakucho.

His name is said in such a firm tone that he can't help but look at Izana dead in the face.

You have to go. You know you do. Even Rindou noticed.

The weight of what he's saying sinks heavily onto Kakucho's shoulders as he leans forward, his forearms on his knees as he clasps his hands together in front of him, the cigarette being held between his lips. He already has a destination; it's clear everyone else around him thinks he deserves one, and Rindou won't even remember what he's said tomorrow morning once the drugs have worn off. This is his chance; this might be the only chance he gets to leave.

There's a song somewhere playing faintly, and the lyrics are the final cherry on top.

Please take a long, hard look through your textbook 'Cause I'm history When I strap my helmet on, I'll be long gone Cause I've been dying to leave Yeah, I'll ride the range and hide all my loose change In my bedroom 'Cause riding a dirt bike down a turnpike Always takes its toll on me

"Alright, fine," he huffs, and Izana's eyes light up next to him. Really?

"Yes, you insufferable idiot." Insufferable? You love me. "Yeah, yeah."

The universe is pelting him with messages, nods, and winks. He can see fate standing before him, her hand outstretched. She smiles expectantly, her eyes twinkling as his rough hand takes it.

See what happens.

divider credit: @/benkeibear for the mdni banner and the gradient dividers! disclaimer: please do not copy or repost my works for any reason. translations are acceptable, but please ask for permission first! © jousk4s 2024-2025.

[trans-witch-bitch]

A Plan (Almost) Gone Wrong

Sum: You are Donnie’s partner. You often help them get intel on some real bad guys, and your job at a local strip club helps since that is an often popular hangout for notorious crime bosses in New York. So, when Donnie asks if he can accompany you to work to get some information, you don’t think twice about saying yes. It has some interesting consequences, but not the kind you’d expect.

When Donnie asked you if you would feel comfortable with him and his brothers coming to your work to try and get information on a particular mob boss, Tobias “Triggerman” Green. He was a regular at your club, The Cat Box, and you knew how dangerous he could be. So, you of course said yes immediately. Donnie and his brothers knew what you did for a living, so it didn’t bother you if they saw you at work. Donnie promised they would wear their cloaking broaches the whole time and wouldn’t interact with you to keep suspicion off of you. You listened to the plan and promised to help the best you could from the sidelines, and you didn’t think twice about it.

The night came relatively fast, and the plan was put into motion. You, of course, went about your night as usual. You wore a particularly revealing outfit, one that showed off your body beautifully. You did your makeup nicely, pushing your hair back and styling it the best you could as you waited for your cue. The plan was to wait until after you’re off stage and serving tables. Tobias would often request to sit in your section, so the boys already knew you’d get close to him. Your job was to place a bug on the bottom of his cup. It was small and clear, so he shouldn’t notice. The boys were here just in case, as a backup for you and to make sure the information they got was good.

Your stage name was called, so you quickly fixed your hair once more and stood behind the curtains. The lights dimmed as the song you requested started to play, something upbeat and provocative as usual. You may be helping your boyfriend get information, but that wasn’t going to stop you from trying to get as much money as possible from your regulars still. You entered the stage, strutting out and taking your time as you approached the pole. You firmly gripped it, allowing your body to spin around it as you got your leg up onto the pole. You did your normal routine, letting yourself focus on this for the time being, until you noticed someone staring. Not just someone, your handsome boyfriend to be precise. He blended in well to the crowd but stood out just enough for you to spot him by the bar with a drink in his hand. His eyes followed you across the stage, watching your every move with a lovely expression. What most people would see as a blank expression, you knew him much better. The slight twitch in the corner of his mouth, his widened eyes, his tight grip on the cup… you knew he was enamored with your performance, with you. He had never seen your work like this before, and he didn’t know how to react. He only moved when Leo finally yelled at him that Tobias was sending men out with a briefcase, and two of them needed to follow. Donnie and Raph were staying at the club to keep an eye on Tobias and make sure the plan went smoothly, while Leo and Mikey went after the others to try and find out what they were up to.

Soon, your time on stage was over. You made your way to the back, and changed your shoes into slightly more comfortable ones, before making your way onto the floor. Your first stop was drinks for Tobias’ table. You slipped the bug under the cup as planned and walked up to the table with your usual smile. You could feel Donnie’s eyes on you the whole time as you set out the drinks, smiling politely at the table. It was going smoothly until Tobias suddenly smacked your ass, laughing and asking how much you were for a night. You heard Raph panicked telling Donnie to calm down from somewhere behind you as you searched your brain for a quick response. Before you even could, however, Donnie suddenly appeared behind you, wrapping himself firmly around your middle with a soft, animalistic growl. Raph quickly ran up, trying to figure out how to get Donnie away from you without blowing your cover. You, however, were one step ahead.

“My deepest apologies, Mr. Green,” You started politely, a soft smile on your face as you looked down at the other, “I’m afraid my night is booked. But I must say I am flattered someone like you would want me.” You lied easily. That seemed to calm the mob boss down enough to turn back to their conversation as Donnie basically dragged you away from the table. Before you could say anything, like scolding him for almost blowing your cover, or almost wrecking the mission, he pulled you into a very passionate kiss, pulling you firmly against his chest and locking his arms around your waist. After a long moment, he pulled away and looked down at you with a very serious expression as he spoke.

“You have every right to be pissed off at me. I would be too. But.. after seeing you on that stage, and seeing him talk to you like that… I couldn’t just leave you there. I love you. And I couldn’t help but feel protective over you.” He admitted honestly, looking slightly ashamed. After a moment of contemplation, you smiled softly up at him and pressed a gentle kiss to the side of his lips.

“Donatello, I am yours. You don’t have to worry about me, I know how to take care of myself. But I think it’s sweet how possessive you can get. Just please don’t do that again at my work. It could cost me my job.” You chuckled, before letting him go and going back to work quickly. Raph dragged him off to finish their mission as you finished work. Their mission was successful despite the setback, and they were successfully able to put Tobias Green away.

When you got home that night, Donnie was by your side the whole night. You made sure he knew that you loved him, and made sure he knew you were his.

Author's Note: I'm still very new to this, so let me know some suggestions on how to improve or some tips or anything!

[freddiemercurylegendabovelegends]

Today, on November 10th, 1978 - Queen Story!

"Jazz" album released in the UK

👉 The seventh studio album

➡️ 12/12/1978 - Circus Magazine

🔸In praise of ‘JAZZ’

The boys conjure up a bizarre junket by Mark Mehler

On Bourbon Street, in the heart of New Orleans’ fabled French Quarter, the sign reads, “Bob Harrington-Chaplain of Bourbon Street.” Upstairs, the freelance minister administers to the wicked minions below, while across the street, the Hotsy Totsy lounge features naked women parading across an oak bar from dawn to dusk, and next door, the “X-rated Shop” specializes in scatological posters and joy sticks.

This is Freddie Mercury’s favourite American city, where the Mississippi ends its majestic flow and zealots with big dreams fight a losing battle against hustlers, procurers, and all purveyors of sleaze. It is Freddie Mercury’s favourite city because the lead singer and bucktoothed front man of Queen is, above all, an actor. And in New Orleans, anyone can be anyone they want to be. Tonight, October 31, 1978-Halloween-Freddie Mercury and Queen have flown in 80 reporters from the U.S., Europe, Latin America and Japan, to see a show and be a part of a show at the same time. The third concert on Queen’s 28-city U.S. tour is in the ornate Civic Auditorium. Above the stage are listed the names of the mighty: Shakespeare, Michelangelo, Cellini, Durer, Gounod. Out of the soft blue and green lights and smoke, Freddie Mercury struts like a rooster, striking ballet poses, under an astral guitar blare that neatly skirts the sharp edges of rock & roll. The melodies are undistinguished, but the constant tempo changes of “Bohemian Rhapsody” and “We Will Rock You”, keep an audience awake for nearly two hours of uninterrupted music. The lighting show is one of rock’s most ambitious. Eerie purple lights shine out over the heads of the audience, making their hair seem cloudlike and inanimate. At the midpoint of the show, a smaller stage is lowered from the ceiling and 400 lamps meld into the sheer white plane of curtain light. Freddie is a whirling dervish, dominating every corner of the stage.

“Some people call this song ‘Spread Your Legs’, he tells the audience, introducing ‘Spread Your Wings’. “And I like it that way”.

Starting out in black sequins, he comes out for the first encore bedecked in orange hot pants, dancing around like Peter Pan. For the second encore he’s wearing a revealing, white body stocking. As he wails ‘We Are The Champions’, his voice warbles with mock emotion, and he grasps the microphone for support. At the apex of the triumphant denouement, the top executives of Elektra Records, who have sat smiling throughout the show, arise as one and walk out. Moments later, the show closes with a taping of ‘God Save The Queen’. Body and soul spent, Freddie ambles off stage, drained and spark-less. But Halloween night in New Orleans has just begun.

Back in the ballroom of the Fairmont Hotel, over 400 people have gathered to await Queen and much on a sumptuous table of hors d’oeuvres, such as Oysters Rockfeller and Shrimp Creole. A Dixieland band plays uninspired jazz jingles, until, shortly before midnight, the Olympia Brass band comes marching through the hall accompanied by Queen-the mercurial Mercury, the winsome Brian May, the puckish John Deacon, the velvety Roger Taylor. Suddenly, like a giant circus orchestrated by a deranged ringmaster, a legion of strippers, vulgar fat-bottomed dancers, snake charmers, drag queens, and bizarrely festooned revellers, begin to strut their stuff before the assembled masses. Freddie Mercury is besieged by hungry autograph seekers, groupies and fame-worshippers. People begin shielding their clothes, as an ever-imaginative photographer snaps Freddie signing the bare backside of a willowy transvestite. Freddie begins sucking on his giant overbite nervously, and by 2 a.m., he is mercifully gone. Brian May, who seems to be the true organizer of the night’s carnival, is cornered by persistent Japanese newshounds. “It’s wonderful,” he keeps saying. “It’s so nice to be back.” As the evening wears on, epicene men and butch women act out charades of power that would have embarrassed Hemingway. Three obese black women in g-strings do a pathetic bump and grind, and another female participant amuses a small gaggle of onlookers by putting a cigarette in an unlikely place. People leave to check out the scene on Bourbon Street and drift back to the party like cigar smoke. At 4 a.m., a Queen security guard, haggard and irritable, inquires when it will all be over. “Queen wants the naked disco dancers going to dawn,” informs his partner. And it does. The following day, Queen reappears at a press conference at Brennan’s, one of the French Quarter’s most elegant restaurants. Again, it is Roger Taylor and Brian May who dominate the conversation, as Freddie Mercury seems vaguely preoccupied. The subject of all this is ‘Jazz’, Queen’s new album, which contains no jazz. “People think we take ourselves a lot more seriously than we actually do,” says Roger Taylor. ‘Jazz’, Queen’s reunion with former producer Roy Thomas Baker, offers ‘Mustapha’, an up-tempo Hebrew rocker; ‘Fat Bottomed Girls’, a song that owes a lot to Pure Prairie League’s ‘Amie’; and more indulgent rhapsodies like ��Jealousy’ and ‘Bicycle Race’, with its topical references to Star Wars, Jaws, and Superman. The ad campaign, like everything about the Band, goes to the limit of good taste: 11 bare-chested, major-league-yabboed women racing bicycles.

“It’s cheeky”, admits Freddie, “naughty, but not lewd. Certain stores, you know, won’t run our poster. I guess some people don’t like to look at nude ladies.”

Freddie, 32, was born in Zanzibar and educated in India, and was a childhood table tennis and hockey prodigy. He studied art and became a graphic designer and illustrator, having given up piano lessons in the fourth grade. But he continued singing, fronting his first band at 14 and forming Queen with Roger and Brian in 1970. After the routine easy grilling, Mercury is cornered outside. “You seem to be removed from the character up on stage. Is that really you?”

“No,” says Freddie, “of course it’s an act.”

He denies pandering to gays; or for that matter, to anyone. He hints at a quiet, restless man who needs to step outside of himself for ego-stimulation.

“I have fun wearing all those costumes,” he says. “I can really cut loose up there”.

Freddie is then swiftly ushered out, and again, Brian May is left behind to field the endless questions of the Japanese. The two-day junket, painstakingly directed by and for Queen, ends with a few straggling journalists eating Bananas Foster and being more cynical than usual. Outside, on Bourbon Street, a folk singer entertains an empty house of red velour seats, affirming that a falling tree makes a sound whether it’s heard or not. Which conjures up something Brian May had said about Queen constantly seeking “direct communication with our audience.” For all the words that describe Queen’s trip to New Orleans, direct is surely not one.

[because-she-goes]

parental guidance

warnings: none, just some anniversary fluff!

The noise of the crowd was deafening. Nora shook her head quickly, ridding herself of the nerves. Tonight was her and Matty’s 3rd wedding anniversary, they were in her beloved big apple at her favorite venue in the world. Matty had had this tour date circled on the calendar since he found put about it, wanting to plan something extra special for the concert - and ofcourse for Nora.

“Now, ladies and gentlemen before we get into this next bit. We have to bring it back to basics, yeah? I mean c'mon admit it… your life wouldn’t be as dramatic without this song.” Matty’s voice booms out of the overhead speakers as the band begins the intro to Robbers. Nora braces herself for the inevitable hunt Matty goes on trying to find someone in the crowd to pull on stage and kiss. He jumps down to the barricade and feigns his search, already having a surprise planned out in the back of his head. He walks to one side, then the other before jumping back up onto the stage and he struts his way over to the side stage where his wife is absentmindedly watching the crowd still.

“Actually, we have a different plan tonight everyone. As some of you may know, I got married three years ago today, in this exact city! In honor of that, I’d like to invite a special someone to join me for this song in particular.” Nora comes back to her senses once she hears the words married and special someone and her face goes white. He knows how she hates big public romantic gestures like this, always commenting on people who propose at sporting events on the jumbotron and how much pressure that puts on the moment and the person being asked the question.

Her eyes lock onto Matty’s as he walks toward her with a small bouquet of white flowers in his hand, other hand reaching out to her. White tee shirt and dress pants suiting him wonderfully. Matty almost freezes when he sees her outfit. They came separately since he had to soundcheck and she was busy finishing up work for a buyer in her studio so she got changed since he last saw her. Nora had decided to go a bit out of her comfort zone for their anniversary, not thinking she would be pulled out on stage to face a crowd of tens of thousands of people. The sheer lace bralette adorned her body beautifully, black caging framing her ribs and contours of her chest. She also had thrown on the red lipstick she knew he liked and a pair of his black jean she had cut into shorts since they were more comfortable and roomy than normal women’s ones. She also had brought the anniversary present she got the two of them with her, thinking he’d like it for the afterparty.

He gulps, rethinking his plan for half a second. She notices the worry flash across his face and how he was thinking about subjecting her to face a crowd in her current outfit. She holds a finger up to him and pulls out their anniversary gift. With leather being the customary third year wedding gift, she had gotten custom leather jackets made for both him and her. Embroidered with their New York wedding date and the skyline on hers, and the Manchester wedding date and map of the city on his. Pulling them out of the bag and handing over his, she slips hers on. “Happy Anniversary, handsome.” He pulls off his button down and swings on the jacket. She kisses him on the cheek as she walks past him and out onto the stage. Waving a hello to the now mental crowd, she smiles - Matty still bumbling behind her in awe. “And everyone please welcome my wife, the incredibly talented Nora Downey! Now, I have a surprise for you tonight. You, my dear, have always mentioned wanting to get some tattoos of your own… Well, I’d like to also welcome our tattoo artist for the evening.” Nora is practically buzzing with excitement over how she is about to get her skin permanently etched with symbols that remind her of Matty. They had decided ages ago to do matching tattoos and figured out what they’d be, but their schedules never aligned with any of the openings the tattoo parlor in London Matty had gotten all of his at had. The tattoo artist walked out on stage with her kit and in a lab coat like the rest of the crew members. Nora took her seat on the comfy couch and pulled off her jacket. Matty sits next to her, getting comfortable as he tells the tattoo artist what he’d like - the words “i’m a man” scrawled along his ribcage as well as the number 12 on his right collarbone. Nora then follows the idea up with her own. They decided to do the three ideas Nora was most certain on: a MOM tattoo on the top of her wrist, i’m a woman also along her ribcage and then finally a 12 on her thigh.

Matty was first. He peeled off his jacket and leaned back in the couch, letting his abdomen be on full display. While the tattoo artist artist got to work, he began to sing. Head leaning back, “she had a face straight out a magazine, god only knows, but you’ll never leave her. Her balaclava is starting to chafe…” and Nora looks at Matty dead in the eyes as the next bit comes, ink finally piercing his skin.

“And when gets his gun, he’s begging ‘Babe stay, stay, stay, stay, stay. And I’ll give you one more time, we’ll give it one more fight. Said one more line, will I know you?” Matty’s voice rings out over the crowd and Nora can barely look away. Her brown eyes locking onto the tattoo beginning to form, mouth agape at the man in front of her. He has never looked more himself in this moment, he has never looked more like her Matthew. Singing his heart out, skin being decorated with inky blotches she has now memorized, curls going in a million directions around his angular face. In that moment, like every other moment she has ever looked at him, she knows he is the love of her life. The song progresses a bit more and the tattoo begins to form. Matty holds Nora’s hand tightly as the needle dances over the bony part of his ribs, pain starting to seep into his voice a bit. She glances down from his face and to their hands, forgetting the crowd of 20 thousand people staring at them. A blush crawls over her cheeks as she admires their silver rings glinting in the light - like the moon being mirrored off the ocean.

“Now if you never shoot, you’ll never know. And if you never eat, you’ll never grow. You’ve got a pretty kind of dirty face, and when she’s leaving your home she’s begging you to stay, stay, stay, stay, stay.” Nora mouths the words to Matty and he feels his heart soar out of his chest, the emotions of both the song, the moment, the night flooding him. He has never loved anyone more in his entire life, he has never seen a more beautiful human being, he has never known anyone better than Nora. The thought he had when he first saw her all those moons ago in Las Vegas, and every other time he ha ever looked at her, reverberates in his brain… she is the light of his life.

Finally, “I’m a Man” adorns his ribs. The artist cleans the area and wraps it up. Moving up to his clavicle for the 12 he requested.

“We’ll give you one more fight said, one more line. There’ll be a riot cause I know you! Well, now that you’ve got your gun it's much harder now the police have come. And I’ll shoot him if its what you ask…” The tattoo needle quickly draws the number on his shoulder, Matty glances down at his two new pieces and smiles to himself, then to Nora. “Sing it babies!” He commands the crowd before leaning over to her.

The whole of MSG screams: “But if you just take off your mask, you find out everythings gone wrong! Now everybody’s dead!! And they’re driving past my old school.” Nora takes his face in her hands, thumbs rubbing his cheeks as they soak in the moment. Both sets of eyes glassy and overcome with how much they love each other in this moment. As they continue to yell, Matty takes his microphone to his lips and Nora mouths back to him.

“He’s got his gun, he’s got his suit on and she says ‘Babe, you look so cool! You look so cool, you look so cool!” He now forgets everything else and kisses her like he never has before, all the love and admiration in the world being poured into it. The rest of the world evaporates around them and suddenly it is just her and Matty together. That is until Goerge is yelling in his in-ears to move to the next song and get his mind together.

“Right, we have another surprise everyone. In honor of my lovely wife being here, we’d like to play the first song she ever heard from us. Because I can be romantic, thank you very much!”

With that, the boys jump into Settle Down as her and Matty switch spots on the couch. Nora’s face breaks into a mile wide smile as she starts to lightly sway to the music. Her and the tattoo artist agreed on doing her upper body pieces first then moving to the 12 on her thigh.

First, the “I’m a woman” on her own abdomen, right under the bralette. Matty sings beside her while holding her hand as she braced for the needle hitting her own ribs.

“A soft sound, into the way that she wears her hair down covering up her face. And oh what a let down I don't seem to be having any effect now, falling all over the place.” Nora bites her lip as the needle hits her skin, trying her very best to contain herself and the slight, but constant pain. Matty’s thumb brushes over the back of her palm soothingly and she instantly relaxes into the couch. Remembering to take deep breaths so as to not pass out on the stage.

Matty continues to sing, but his eyes never leave her. Worry flashes across his face a few more times during the song but once she is finished with the rib tattoo, he knows the worst pain is over - his wrist one was a walk in the park and so were the ones he had gotten on his legs.

Getting her own abdomen wrapped and sealed, she offered her wrist to the woman beside her. Luckily this one would only be three letters and not a whole phrase like the other one.

“A small town, dictating all the people we get around. What a familiar face, do you know what I mean now? I’m so fixated on the girl with the soft sound, her hair all over the place.” Matty takes another glance in Nora’s direction before getting off the couch and back to walking around and dancing to the music. She gives a thumbs up to him and with that, the worry slides off of him. He blows a kiss and off he goes.

“And you’re sure that I’d learn. I’m pushing through bodies, avoiding me and walking ‘round you. And you’re cold and I burn, I guess I’ll never learn ‘cause I stay another hour or two.” He knew that was one of her favorite lyrics he had ever written and he smiled, glad he could surprise her and give her such a lovely night.

With the mom tattoo now complete, they moved to the 12 on her thigh. She thought about how their hands would now look holding hands - wedding rings, matching tattoos and all. She swooned. She couldn’t have dreamt of a better husband than Matty.

“For crying out loud, settle down! You know I can’t be found with you, we get back to my house. Your arms, my mouth, now I just stop myself around you for crying out loud!” The song finishes as soon as the 12 is done and Nora runs to Matty once she is all finished and jumps into his arms. Like out of a movie, the two kiss in front of Madison Square Garden as it erupts in cheers for the happy couple.

[fictitouscore]

#FICTITIOUSCORE PERFORMANCE !

Find VENUS at ... @venusvity

VENUS struts onto the FICTITIOUSCORE stage with their usual unwavering confidence, getting into their starting poses, Baebi in the center as usual. This is their first music show performance for their "VENUS VICTRIX" era, being one of the three title tracks they'll perform over the next three months.

The dimmed lights intensify the anticipation, and a mesmerizing silhouette of the five members of VENUS appears on stage. Dressed in unquie denim dresses, mimicking the Japanese idol style, something Flowerbank artists are known for at this point.

"겁이 나서 시작조차 안 해 봤다면. 그댄 투덜대지 마라 좀," The girls sing in a low harmony, a confident smirk on Jiah's lips as the camera zooms in on her. She nods at the camera.

"Victrix." Smoothly, Jiah slides into her new position,moving Bliss to the center of the stage. Bliss, with her striking presence and electrifying energy, takes control as the beat intensifies. Her every move is deliberate and precise, each step oozing confidence and power.

As the group sings "주저하면 기회는 모두 너를 비켜 가. 가슴 펴고 나와 봐라 좀," Bliss glides across the stage effortlessly, her body swaying in perfect harmony with the music.

Her fluid movements command attention, capturing the essence of their empowering lyrics. Her smooth and confident dance style exudes an air of sophistication as if she were a seasoned veteran on the stage. As she raises her arms above her head, her fingers gracefully splayed like a blooming flower. With a striking look into the camera, Bliss cocks a brow as if she's challenging the audience before a playful smirk grows on her full lips.

"Venus is back," The eldest sings with her baritone voice, causing the crowd to go crazy as the beat drop comes in, ushering in the first verse of the song.

Chloe, known for her incredible vocal range, takes center stage, her voice soaring above the melodies with a clarity that sends shivers down the spines of those listening. Her passion radiates from every fiber of her being, her eyes sparkling with the joy of performing.

Sena, usually restricted to supporting roles in the group's songs, stands beside Chloe, her heart racing with nerves. The music fades away, leaving only silence in its wake, the girls' vocals only to be heard.

Chloe effortlessly demands the stage, singing "'Cause the girls, bring the boys out," with her usual strong and distinct vocals. Her breathing can be heard in the mic which she prefers so people know she's singing live.

With a deep breath, Sena steps forward, her voice blending harmoniously with Chloe's. "Girls, bring the boys out," The pair sing in unison, their notes getting higher and higher every time they sing the line until they both hit a crescendo.

The members of VENUS can't help but wear proud smiles on their faces, witnessing Sena shine like never before. Baebi raises her thumb up just at her hip, signaling her support and approval like a proud mom, her eyes shimmering with joy. Sena catches Baebi's gesture, and her heart swells with a mixture of gratitude and accomplishment, giving her an excited thumbs up back amid their choreography.

The girls end their performance with a strong ending pose. Jiah and Chloe back to back on the right, Sena and Baebi back to back on the right, and Bliss in the center.

When the camera ends up on Chloe for the ending fairy, she laughs, still trying to catch her breath but she never passes up an opportunity to be cute, making her hands form C's and putting them on top of her head to resemble bear ears as she nods her head side to side cutely. The camera moves to Baebi next, making her smile brightly, waving to the camera excitedly before blowing a kiss to the camera and ending with a sweet finger heart in front of her face.

Impressed by VENUS' performance? You can vote for them on FICTITIOUSCORE and help them take home the first-ever FICTITIOUSCORE trophy!

[montmartrasse]

What if rain or Swiss being vampire ghouls or something and smelling dews blood on stage…

They would be drooling for the rest of the concert,

Swiss would shove dew into a dressing room and pin him against the door before sinking his teeth into dews neck while pushing his knee between dews legs to make him hard…

I feel like rain would be more shy about it tho,

What do you think?

-🫧

hoo this got away from me once again, but i fucking. i cant. this whole situation. the blood kink girlies me are going crazy.

ty and ily

little dickhead would be so smug about it too. strutting on stage, showing everyone his bloody finger, knowing they can’t do anything about it while they’re still performing, driving them crazy.

nsfw below

aether places a little kiss on it on stage, and fans go crazy at the affectionate moment, unaware of the tent growing behind his guitar. 

once they’re backstage tho - that’s when the fun begins. swiss grabs him immediately, aether following right after and rain shyly trailing behind, and they’re in the boys dressing room. mountain is sitting there already, more than happy to just watch, and maybe touch himself. he’s still a ghoul after all. 

swiss immediately hugs him from behind, yanking his hair and exposing his neck, dewdrop know whats coming and goes limp on swiss, relaxing fully. aether covers the front of him, pushing his knee between dewdrop’s legs, allowing him to put his weight there. swiss’ sharp fangs pierce through the skin of dewdrop’s neck and draw blood immediately, a low groan escapes dew’s mouth. the light pain on his forgotten, replaced by the pleasure on his neck. a ghouls bite works like a vampires bite where the low venom that gets injected feels like an aphrodisiac. he reaches one hand back to swiss, trying to get a grip, failing, he’s held by aether now. swiss has a strong grip across his chest and one hand still on his hair, aether just places his hands on dew’s waist, pulling him closer, encouraging him to grind on his leg. 

rain still shyly hovers by the door, mountain’s hand is already in his pants, stroking his cock while enjoying the show. 

dew fully starts grinding on aether’s thigh once he collects himself a little, the high of the initial bite wearing off a little, swiss does not let go still, his own erection pressing dew’s ass, rutting against him lightly. when he gathers his mind just for a bit, he stares rain dead in the eye, raising the bloody hand, reaching for him. rain obeys pliantly, makes his way to the ghoul in the ghoul sandwich, and approaches them. 

“good boy, don’t be shy,” he growls, cupping rain’s face, blood smearing a little on his jaw. dew sticks his bloodied pink finger along with his ring finger, leaving his thumb and other fingers free to grab rain by his jaw, pushing him down. rain falls to his knees, “so good,” dewdrop says with a rough voice, about to get lost in the pleasure, sensation attacking him from every corner. 

swiss, as if on cue, deepens his bite, drawing even more blood, causing dewdrop to jolt hard and ride aether’s leg harder. satisfied with the reaction he got from the fire ghoul, swiss finally lets go of his neck, removing his teeth, still keeping contact while licking the wound he placed there. aether, almost driven to frenzy by all the smells around him - dewdrop’s precum in his pants, the blood spilling from his neck and fingers, swiss’s venom -  pulls dew hard from his waist, lifting him up so he can wrap his legs around his body and places his mouth on swiss’ bite mark, sucking and licking gently, catching the last droplets of blood mixed with the venom. 

dewdrop feels himself pushing the edge of climax as he removes his hand from rain’s mouth, fully intending on sticking it into aether’s mouth for a final hail mary. aether taken aback by dewdrop’s audacity, grunts around the smaller ghoul’s fingers in his mouth, fully pushes him to swiss, slamming both to the wall behind them, and ruts hard into the ghoul that's wrapped around him. swiss once again finds himself grinding hard against dewdrop’s ass.

pain mixed with pleasure too much to keep holding longer, dewdrop pushes his hips to aether’s body one last time as he cums in his pants, the claws on his hips digging hard on his sides and swiss’s hard cock painfully rubbing against his ass still. 

he drops removes his hand from the now almost feral aether’s mouth, and drops his head to swiss’s shoulder, body all limp once again, relying on his mates for support. 

rain lets a low whimper escape his mouth, left out from the majority of the fun, still on his knees, mouth open and ready for use. 

“nice show, congrats guys” comes a deep voice from the couch, mountain still rubbing his cock, now out of his pants. 

dew snaps to life, head lifting from where it was resting, a wicked grin plastered on his stupid face 

“we’re just starting, care to join?”

they have a long night ahead.

[ddagent]

"Illusion"

Aziraphale/Crowley | Magicians AU | FR12 | 776 words     Retired illusionist Aziraphale Crowley now spends his days hyping up his boyfriend, the Amazing Mister Fell. Inspired by this gifset, here is some tooth-rotting fluff about hype-man Crowley and his magician boyfriend. Enjoy!

“Put your hands together for the Amazing Mister Fell!”

The gaggle of nine-year-olds on the floor of the tent politely clapped their hands. In front of balloons and bunting, Aziraphale Fell, master magician, strutted on stage. Standing in front of the catering table, Crowley couldn’t help but grin. There, in a top hat and a drawn-on moustache, was the man he loved. Adored. Worshipped. Crowley wanted to scream at the children: clap harder, shout his name. But he maintained his composure. Just stood, grinning, as his angel made a two pence piece magically appear behind the birthday boy’s ear.

The snotty girl next to him sniffed and went: “I thought you were getting Anthony Eden? This guy’s rubbish.”

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Aziraphale withdrew his hand immediately; if that moustache had been real, it would have quivered. Crowley couldn’t – and wouldn’t - stand there and let his angel be insulted by a nine-year-old. So, he snapped: “Anthony Eden’s the rubbish one. Where’s he gone, eh? Couldn’t hack it, that’s what. Come on, Mister Fell – show us some magic.”

Across the heads of twenty or so children, Aziraphale beamed. He then began to produce – and drop – a set of three rings. Crowley winced but offered Aziraphale a discreet thumbs up. That seemed to spur his boyfriend on and, for once, the Magical Mr Fell was actually able to complete a trick. Usually, the only trick Aziraphale managed to achieve was to make all of Crowley’s clothes disappear. He was very good at it. The other tricks…not so much. Cards went flying. Birds disappeared. Harry the Rabbit mostly remained unscathed – usually because Aziraphale, soft touch that he was, allowed the youngest children to pet him during his act. Still, the Amazing Mister Fell was the best magician Crowley had seen in years. And he should know – for fifteen bloody years he had been Anthony Eden.

There had been little magic there. Years working the West End as an illusionist before he’d spent six years headlining in Vegas. It had been literal hell on Earth. His producer, Beez, had put forward an original sin theme, based on his stage name. Crowley had shoved flaming swords into trunks and pulled snakes out of hats and cracked open an apple to reveal an audience’s card. He’d even been dressed the part of the snake: leather trousers, dark flowing locks, contact lenses that had itched every night on stage. After a while he’d just…had enough.

So, Crowley had quit, packed up back to his flat in Mayfair, and considered building a herb garden. One afternoon he’d passed through a street fair in Soho and found himself catching the Amazing Mister Fell’s show. It had been…messy. But Aziraphale’s joy had been abundant – he wasn’t in it for the glory; certainly not the money. He was magic. Afterwards, Crowley found himself by Aziraphale’s side as the man gently cradled Harry the Rabbit back into his travel hutch. The booing had been too much for them both.

“You weren’t that bad.”

“Thank you. I think,” Aziraphale had replied, his sigh sinking into Crowley’s bones. “I get so much out of performing but I…I just wish I was better at it.”

Crowley had shrugged. “Not everyone can be Anthony Eden.”

To that, his future partner had scoffed. Not just smiled politely, but actually scoffed. “Oh, please. That man’s not a magician. He’s an overpriced performer with a bad wig and a handful of cheap tricks dressed up to look fancy. I would rather get booed off a hundred stages then be compared with that…charlatan.”

Crowley had literally had to bite his tongue to stop himself from kissing the man in front of him, draw that plump bottom lip between his own and make some real magic. Instead, he had settled for asking him for a drink that had quickly devolved into dinner. That had been a year ago, now. Crowley grew his plants, living off his royalties, and Aziraphale had his book shop and did magic shows as a hobby. Crowley himself would often pick up a waiting gig so he could be there to watch his angel – and snap and bite at the children who didn’t respect him. Couldn’t they see how beautiful he was? How amazing? How hard he was trying?

Kids today don’t know anything about magic, Crowley thought, as the brats fled to their phones rather than bask in the magician in front of them. But thankfully for Aziraphale, he had no bigger fan than Crowley. And later, at home with a stolen birthday cake, they made a kind of magic that Crowley had long searched for but never thought he’d find.

[direwombat]

Happy wip wednesday y'all! Tagged by @socially-awkward-skeleton (tysm~💕)

And tagging @adelaidedrubman, @strangefable, @detectivelokis, @poetikat, @purplehairsecretlair, @aceghosts, @sstewyhosseini, @funkypoacher, @confidentandgood, @thomrainer, @deputyash, @roofgeese, @harmonyowl, and anyone else wanting to share what they're working on (but also absolutely zero pressure)!

Here's the intro draft of kneeling at the crossroads (aka syb's canonical timeline fic)!

The Project at Eden’s Gate had been an open secret for years. Everyone in the county knew what was happening behind closed doors: the bribes and out of court settlements over land disputes; the uptick in arrests and near immediate releases for those charged with possession of illegal firearms; the way meth was slowly replaced by some new drug called Bliss. Something strange was happening in the rural region of Hope County, Montana. The only problem is that no one has been able to prove anything.

Until the videos.

The first one that came out, most people thought was a hoax. Some hokey found-footage student film that somehow went viral -- too absurd, too far-fetched to be true. But when the Missing Person’s reports for some kid named Alex came through the Hope County Sheriff’s Department’s fax machine, that’s when it dawned on them that there might be something more sinister to the actions of the local group of religious fanatics.

Deputy Sybille La Roux wasn’t there for that.

What she was there for, though, was the other video.

The one filmed with the shaky camera tucked inside someone’s breast pocket. The one too candid to be staged. It reminds her a little too much of the POW torture and execution videos she’s had the displeasure of viewing during her time in Afghanistan. The screams are too real, and she’s seen enough blood and gore to know the difference between it and practical effects.

The preacher, Joseph Seed, gouged a man’s eyes into oblivion and blinded him on camera.

And while she had her own questions about who salvaged the phone and uploaded the footage, she didn’t voice them. This was the video that finally got the Feds involved and the Sheriff’s Department -- underfunded and understaffed -- the support they desperately needed.

She just thought that with everything they did know, the United States Marshals Service would send more than one man.

Deputy Marshal Cameron Burke is a city boy from Billings who never quite outgrew his cowboy phase. His eyes gleam with ambition, and as she sat in that tiny conference room, she held her tongue at just how stupid his infiltration plan was. She’d tried arguing with him once, only to be immediately shut down for being the rookie. As if her eleven years of experience in the military didn’t mean a goddamn thing.

The man thinks himself the next Wyatt Earp, and it’s clear that he cares more about the press and promotion that apprehending Joseph Seed will get him. He wants out of this backwater state, wants the glitz and glamor of an office in Washington D.C.. The Hope County Sheriff’s Department is just a footnote in the heroic bedtime story he tells himself every night.

She sits across from him in the back of the chopper as Pratt guides them steadily towards Joseph’s compound. He’s going over the plan for what feels like the hundredth time. Not that there’s much to go over. The man is dead-set on strutting in through the front door, and while she understands the need for transparency in a situation like this -- the public tends to frown on the cloak and dagger operations she’s played a part in abroad -- the Marshal’s plan is liable to get someone shot.

It had taken almost all of Earl’s negotiating power to convince him that walking in during broad daylight might not have been a good idea.

So, here they are pushing 3 a.m. and flying over the county. Sybille’s nose is buried in her phone, watching that damn video again. There’s something haunting about it. Something foreboding, and she can’t shake the clenching sensation in her gut that even when they do arrest him, whatever’s happening here will be far from over. No one has seen a man like him since David Koresh.

The way Joseph speaks is almost hypnotic. Were it not for the sheer noise of the engine and blades whirring overhead, his cadence might have lulled her into an entirely different mindset. One less conducive to fulfilling her current objective, and one more…easily persuaded. The way he turns to look at the camera, somehow sensing his victim, sends shivers down her spine. It’s almost as if he sees her too. Like he knows they’re coming for him.

The subsequent violence is as compelling as it is horrific. She can’t look away, and a sick part of her almost misses it.

Her jaw clenches as the screaming starts, and the video mercifully cuts out not long after. She sets her phone down, letting it rest in her lap. Turning to look out the window, she’s met with the giant stone edifice of just the very man from the video. Omniscient, omnipresent, and omnipotent.

“Why do you keep calling them Peggies?” Burke asks as she tunes back into the conversation. A question that makes it clear he barely skimmed the file she and Pratt had compiled for him. If he even bothered to read it at all.

[bl0pers]

mha w/ model s.o

Now hello there, :). This is interesting, because I was literally just scrolling through deku fluff: but anyways

Characters: katsuki bakugo, izuku midoriya (my baby <3), shoto todoroki, kaminari denki

warnings: fem. reader, do not proceed if you are uncomfortable. admiration, slight possessiveness (shoto, ikyk, i tried to switch things up here. bakugo too)

lessa go

katsuki bakugo

now you are one of a kind for modeling agencies.

and katsuki knows, i mean, who wouldn't pick you? random dumbass extra's, that's who.

but anyways, katsuki here is a pro-hero, but does he give one shit about taking a day off? no, not one.

back on track, actually. you are decked UP! i mean, decked, decked up. The makeup, clothing, hair, heels, earrings you name it. you look fly and fine girlie.

so, katsuki gets the best seat in the house, he should see you at your best angle. Actually...scratch that, all your angles are the best.

he gets a seat, and patiently goes through the models before you. yes, yes, they're all great, lovely designs. whatever, y'know?

and then there's you. now wait a damn minute. holy shit, you're really fucking hot.

he has his mouth open with the corners going upwards. now he knew you were going to be the best of the best, but when he saw you? ma`am, if you don't stop leveling up, he might just die of adoration.

the walk was flawless, not a single step of hesitation. you were confident, and a literal goddess .

after the show he immediately wrapped his arms around you to make sure no random ass extra walked up to you, asking for your number, because he had that shit first! Finders keepers, losers weepers. he even held your waist as you both walked to his car.

but guess what? also after the show, and maybe during the show, katsuki bakugo fell in love all over again. just like in UA

izuku midoriya

may i just start off by saying, your man izuku here? worships you like a goddess. literally, will give you the most polite kisses ever. a kiss to the back of the hand, cheek, neck, your lips if he feels confident.

but boy oh boy, he was anything but confident right now. he was down bad for you. ladies, if you want someone who will literally run across the world to get you a heating pad while you're on your period, izuku midoriya is the man you should get.

like i said, man is trying to look at you respectfully, he really is! poor baby, can't stop his eyes from wandering, you're just too beautiful >:( !

but yeah, he watches as you strut like you own the damn place, and izuku can read a room very well. and the audience is looking at you like you not only own the room, but everyone in it. you go girl.

right after the show he pulls out his phone and asks you to model walk back to him. and he records everything.

you don't fail to notice the cherry redness on his cheek. clever you!

whenever he can, izuku watches that video and thinks, that all the time you practiced that walk around the house, was totally worth it.

shoto todoroki

Now this man is hot and cold about this. you being a model? good for you, he'll totally support you. but you being open to everyone? eh...not for him.

but he comes nonetheless. he's supportive and he'll act like it.

so, he gets, there, takes a seat, makes light conversation with the people around him., you know, the usual ho-ha.

and then you show up. you know the saying "first is the worst, second is the best, thrid is the one with the wedding dress" ? the one from elementary school? yep.

but you're first of the models, and you are definitely not the worst, and shoto will definitely put you in a wedding dress.

this man doesn't show his emotion as clearly as everyone else, but when you see him staring at you, oh my goodness gracious me, he is head over heels for you.

shoto doesnt watch the other models, he just stares at the stage pretending to watch them as your image and walk is just looping in his mind .

shoto todoroki, in the end, realizes that he really really loves you

kaminari denki

this man is not only head over heels for you, he is head over everything else.

actually, he'll walk into the area with a smug ass look on his face.

to be honest, he's happy to have you, but when people start whispering at pointing at him and giggling, when gets a bit too arrogant. a prohero, so you should've expected this, but you...are going to humble this man so hard.

so models pass, yada-yada, great job to them. Then there's you.

you know how denki goes into the "over-worked" mode? Yeah that's him right now.

if he was wearing shades, he would've taken them off so fast.

he's eyes are blown wide, baby. like, wide wide.

he starts to smile and cheers you on among the clapping of the audience.

he starts to tell the people around him that you're his girlfriend, partner, wife, fiance, etc. you see what he's doing and it's sorta adorable.

"THAT'S MY BABY RIGHT THERE!! WOOOO!" you can imagine.

and then after the show, he grabs you into a hard kiss. Like, that shit came in like a wrecking ball.

and repeatedly kisses your neck, cheek, shoulder, forehead, and whatever else.

with each one, he says "gorgeous, beautiful, amazing, show-stopping, hot, really, fucking, hot." y'know. The usual <3.

he's so cute, you forget to humble him and go straight to your car.

you still got makeup on, but who cares.

at every red light, denki just stares at you.

you ask him what's going on and this smug ass man replies.

"I'm afraid that if I don't stare, i'll be blinded by the ugliness of the world. so I stare at you because you're fucking gorgeous y/n, what other reason?" and you just turn into a gushy mess <3

so denki sees you're a gushy mess and comes back to the day you both confessed in UA, at the same time.

"I like you denki-"

"I like you y/n-" well now that was awkward...

but denki can't help but smile, because everyday, he wants to make you feel like the first day you guys truly fell in love, because who doesn't like that feeling?

[moraygrotto]

hiii would you mind doing literally anything with burpy jade :)

ficlet of belly kink club performer!jade x reader !

~

Jade is the master of ceremonies tonight. He thus lacks the shimmering jewelry, the gaudy colors, and the scanty clothes of the others, who now scamper offstage.

Nevertheless, there is a certain softness to his outfit, almost a teasing edge, that suggests it was arranged by and for this location.

As he strides in stage left with the poise of a swan, you notice from your seat that there is a sliver of shirt fabric visible between his waistcoat and trouser waistband. The cloth is soft, stretchy, and his sleeves are rolled up, revealing his coveted arms.

Jade raises a gloved hand, and sweeps a smooth arc out toward the audience.

"Our boys are looking delectable tonight, yes? I trust you all came prepared to make their nights sweeter yet. And—" He pauses, frowns, and presses a fist to his lips. A moment passes, and he takes the microphone back up. "You fine folks must pardon me; I took a rather large glass of sparkling water before —mmrp— before coming onstage, in hopes it might lubricate my throat." He pauses, his long-lashed eyes falling shut. Amidst the soft chatter of the club, you hear what first starts as a low rumble, then clarifies itself into a bassy burp behind closed lips. "Excuse me," says Jade. "As I was saying, I trust that you lovely individuals will give our performers the courtesy of a tip, whether or not you make further purchases later on."

He gives a cool wink, and you swear he is looking at you.

"Our next act will—" An inhuman splorsh interrupts him, not caught by the mic but nevertheless loud enough to hear in burbling detail from your seat.

Jade's face twists into an expression that can just barely be called cross. "Esteemed audience," he mewls, "it seems something else is vying for your attention. Shall I—" Raising his eyebrows, he lowers the microphone to his torso level.

At once, the clubgoers burst out in clapping and whoops.

Jade sneaks the word "Alright," into the mic, before pressing it into the side of his belly.

There is a soft gurgling now emanating over the PA system, rapidly deepening as a monstrous growl begins to form— Jade is burping, it takes you a second to realize.

His face contorts as he passes the eructation up, quiet over the air but internally roaring through the speakers.

When he is done, there is applause, and you cannot help but resent it; if only you could be the only one watching Jade heave a breath through his mouth, eyelids fluttering open as he straightens back up.

"Truly," he says, "I do beg your pardon. There are some outstanding bellies coming up next, though, so please do stay in your seats and keep those wallets open." Cocking his head with a smile, Jade then struts offstage.

As the next act begins, performers from the previous filter out onto the floor. Onstage, they had fed each other whipped cream, and caressed each other's lips, throats, and bellies. Now, each carries a tray, upon each which are arrayed about ten small foods.

Surprisingly, however, there is one performer who does not match the others— Jade is there with a tray as well, upon which sparkle miniature flutes of some bubbling pink liquid. Balance impeccable, he swoops across the floor, closer, closer, to you.

"Twenty thaumarks to feed or be fed, ten more for any extra contact."

Unable to tear your eyes from the faint bulging curves disrupting his sharply cut figure, you pull out thirty thaumarks, show him the bills, and stuff them into his waistcoat pocket.

"Thank you," he says, as coquettishly as is possible for Jade, and hands you a flute of the drink.

Using your well-bought privilege, you circle a hand around his waist, pull him closer, almost into your lap, before reaching up to tip the bubbling liquid into his mouth.

Jade's soft lips try to catch it all, but as he gulps it down, a rose-colored dribble runs past his jawline and down his neck.

After Jade sucks the last drops from the glass, you lift it from his lips.

He looks down at you, and his eyes open wide as a crass burp pops out of him. His whole body lurches, but the tray of drinks stays perfectly steady.

"Oh, I beg your pardon," he says, "you must forgive—"

He is in the middle of reaching for a handkerchief in his pocket when you pat his back, and he delivers to you another gaseous burp.

At this, he actually gives you a moan, albeit an affected one. "I apologize," he says, "But... that felt so good. Could I... trouble you to give me one more?"

You had been stroking his back —his burps and the music both made his bones rumble under your hands— but at this you oblige him, giving Jade a firm few pats.

"BbrrRRuuRrrRP! ...Ohhh..."

After letting out such a beautiful burp, Jade touches you— you suppose you paid for that much as well. He strokes one gloved finger down your face, and gives a sharp-toothed smile. "Thank you for the drink," he says, "and for taking such good care of me."

[stuffymcstuffsworld]

A show

*I don't usually do one piece, but this has been driving me insane ever since I watched the OPLA. No, it's not meant for that, and sorry I didn't name drop, but I wanted you to have some imagination*

She took a deep breath. The sound of the music starting and the rowdy men outside quieting down was a sign she was about to start. She got into place and opened up her umbrella, placing it over her shoulder just as the curtains opened.

She glanced up innocently at her que and twirled her umbrella. She had every single pirates attention in this little bar. The whitebeard pirates had stopped at this island. It was time to earn some coin.

♡Dearest friends, dear gentlemen, listen to my song. Life down here's been hard for you... life has made you strong.♡

She walks to the edge of the stage. She can already see several pirates leaning towards her. They were spellbound by her soft voice.

♡Let me lift the mood~ with my attitude~♡ She casually walks along the side of the stage, knowing that several sailors are waiting with baited breath. She gives a cute small twirl, exposing her legs from under her long skirt.

♡Hey, fellas, the time is right. Get ready. Tonight's the night!♡ The small kicks and twirls she did as she strutted across the stage had lots of attention at this point. But she promised a show and she planned to deliver.

She leans down to the nearest pirate, who is practically drooling on her stage. Honestly, sometimes it was just too easy. She gives them a pretty smile.

♡Boy's what you're hoping for will come true. Let me be good to you.♡ A wink, and she leaves the poor sap moving on. Twirling her umbrella idly as she stepped off stage and onto the nearest table.

♡You tough guys! You're feeling all alone~ You rough guys! The best of you sailors and bums all of my chums!♡

She teased. Her voice became louder as she leaps to the next table. Normally, she'd move back towards stage at this point, but today was different. It had been a long time since she'd seen her darling, so she leaps again, landing perfectly on the commanders table directly in the middle of the bar.

She looks at him through her lashes and sees that smile she adores. She loves it when he looks at her like that. She'll make sure to give him something to remember her by.

♡So dream on and drink your beer. Get cozy your baby's here! You won't be misunderstood. Let me be good to you~♡

She tosses her umbrella back to the stage. Smiling down at her lover. He always loved this part. The music picks up. And she tosses her long skirt aside to show her cabaret outfit.

♡Hey fellas! I'll take off all my blues! Hey fellas! There's nothing I won't do, just for you!♡ she cupped his face crooning sweetly before letting go. She hoped off the table and started doing a few tricks to the beat.

High kicks and twirls, a cartwheel thrown in for fun as she struts back to the stage. The cheers from the audience add to her own amusement. She kicks and waves away the groping hands with a laugh.

♡So dream on, and drink your beer. Get cozy your baby's here!♡ She winks and points at her lover. ♡Hey boys, I'm talking to you!♡

She skillfully twirls away from the front of the stage, picking up her discarded umbrella as she goes. She looks over her shoulder and smiles at the now rowdy crowd. What a bunch of suckered.

♡Your baby's gonna come through! Let me~♡ she takes a running leap. He's already standing ready to catch her. ♡be good~♡ He spins her around now that she's in his arms. ♡To you~♡

She kisses him deeply. Happy to grant some much needed loving his way. "Hiya sailor," She giggles. And he has that dopey grin again. The one meant just for her.

[essaysonbanality]

Leather

A man on Grindr once told me that “leather was like drag.” I pressed him on the point multiple times, but he couldn’t say much more than that. He typed it out with such finality that it seemed to him perfectly self-explanatory. I guess I understood what he was getting at, but I hate pronouncements. Pronouncements are for people who somehow have lived in this world as I have and still have the balls to think that they can be right. Maybe it is my millennial hemming and hawing that is the real problem.

Though I hated how he said it, I got the gist of what that man on Grindr meant. Gay men wear leather to become someone else. Just like in drag, there are entire leather productions and competitions where various men wearing leather go up on stage and perform for an audience. I have caught glimpses of these shows sometimes while I have hung around the Eagle or Bullet. The newly announced winner demonstrates the appropriate shock and surprise and receives a leather sash with big bolded letters pronouncing him as “Mr. Bullet Leather 2023.”

There are layers here; some stretching back to rituals and observances only known by the daddies and the boys who love them. Some reason that this system of competition exists and exalts certain characteristics. I am not intending to suggest that we are performing on the bones of old ritual that has lost all meaning. Quite the opposite actually. I think the entire production is imbued with more ritual significance now more than ever.

Leather serves as a stark contrast to drag in a lot of ways. While drag is meant to accentuate femininity and challenge gender conventions, leather attempts to solidify roles and to reinvigorate an image of masculinity. But it is an image of men refracted and warped across time from an era immediately prior to AIDS that gay men seem to yearn for. The idea of men who wear leather jackets and Levi jeans that draw all eyes to their bulge, sport an aggressively prominent mustache, and struts with a cigar in mouth. Except this man existed in the 1960s and 1970s, and now he does not.

Oh sure, that man probably never truly existed. He was always fantasy. An amalgamation of characteristics that a gay man wanted both to emulate and be dominated by. But somewhere between then and now that man went from living to extinct. Now at every leather bar in America you can watch locals attempt to recreate that now extinct man for an audience who never met him. Like a game of telephone across generations and time until you are left with men who are being worn by leather — not wearing leather.

The reason this ritual is so much more important now is because the oft-revered leather daddy symbol harkens back to a time when gay men had purpose. Cruising, bathhouses, gay bars, leather events, and many other subversive acts were radical before the 1990’s because they either directly challenged the status quo or were the only means by which gay men could subvert it. Without the radical or subversive element which imbued these spaces and acts with meaning, many have lost their appeal and edge.

This degradation over time is a topic that modern queer authors have been grappling with for the past few years. Books like Cruising; Gay Bar; or Times Square Red, Times Square Blue have raised the alarm bells on the disappearance of gay public encounters. These books all typically have the same premise: a famed gay institution is dying and that is a bad thing because of X. While all these authors acknowledge that these institutions were human and therefore contained problematic elements, they all speak to a common loss. The loss of equitable sexual relations between men, cross-class commingling inherent in public encounters, and a subversive edge that keeps the whole thing interesting.

Radical sexual acts are now all about bespoke and customized experiences meant to appeal exactly to your sexual desires. No longer do you need to traipse through some bushes in your local public park before weariness has you settling for the older, out-of-shape man you saw milling around. Just open the app and find the exact model you are looking for and they will be at your doorstep before you know it. Even the glory holes in bathhouses have expanded in size so people no longer have to suffer the horror of enjoying a sexual experience without knowing the exact age, height, and BMI of the person they are blowing.

No doubt there are justifiable fears and reasons driving this reality. Young gay men raised by concerned straight parents who passed on their fear of that “gay disease” AIDS, a population raised on the “stranger danger” curriculum, and a culture which, despite preaching equity, has yet to apply that to lust. But one can’t help feel that something went awry here.

What is left then? Groups of men putting on custom leather gear all bought from shops now offering express global shipping on orders over $40. Elaborate themed nights at leather bars catering to an increasingly bored community that has resorted to newer kinks in the name of subversion. Picky cruisers who would rather walk three hours in a dark park than touch someone they don’t immediately find attractive. Attractive men who claim that their commodified sexual acts broadcast on Twitter and OnlyFans are really in the name of liberation for all.

Leather men and the spaces they inhabit have taken on a new desperate edge. The ceremonies and pageantry becoming an increasingly tenuous link to a time and place that no longer exists, but that young gay men wished they were alive to experience. Vests, chaps, and mustaches all seeming to say “Remember? This used to have a purpose!”

Come to think of it maybe that guy on Grindr was right all along. Leather is sort of like drag.