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like jax and reader r hanging out in reader's room just talking and jax suddenly asks reader why they're friends with him
reader can be fem or gn
i luv angst pls i luv angst so bad
ty🥹
The Question
Jax (TADC) x gn! reader (platonic)
*sigh* I have two theories when it comes to my writing: one, either all my characters are perfect and I did a good job, or two, I’m too neurodivergent to be able to write and represent feelings. I really hope Jax wasn't too OOC.
My dearest people, my readers, please I beg you to actually tell me if I have a problem representing emotions. It's eating my head like a parasite.
DISCLAIMER: It may or may not imply that Jax is transgender. To be honest, I only realized that after writing it, but it can also be interpreted in light of what happened with his mom.
The relationships on the circus were the result of the forced proximity and the common, constant, state of survival; those were the factors that made everyone amicable (to not force the label of ‘friendship’) with each other.
Jax was the exception to all of the psychology rules and common events in the circus; his walls built like an impenetrable fortress.
The one who “forced” the rules onto him was Ribbit. The bunny was terrified of his surroundings when he first arrived; it took him a while to uncurl and stand from the floor that had become his refuge.
Everyone used the same mirror to look at themselves for the first time; like a child gaining consciousness, like an NPC learning the truth of its existence.
A foreign feeling that, after time, became usual.
It took Jax a good few weeks to get used to everything; probably the circus thing was easier, Caine’s adventures, the colors and brightness…but the people…
Kaufmo was the chill, just a guy with a clown costume; everyone agreed his actual name was something like Doug or Bob. Ribbit was more energetic and extroverted, the fun and ray of sunshine of the circus.
And there were them. The third leg of the table finally completed with Jax; never too much, too bad or too good, just them.
Never tried to get Jax to talk, laugh or be part of an activity; they were so comfortable in an annoying way. That was the reason Jax went to them the moment he abandoned his room after a full whole week of "quarantine".
They just invited Jax to their room, no questions asked; a cup of coffee, brewed with a hidden french press and a little drop of digital liquor, stolen from a past adventure.
“Don’t tell Caine”, they said with a grin and no bite.
Jax took the mug and drank silently, sitting in their bed while they kept doing something on their desk.
The night of no talking didn’t budge Jax, even if the weird and unknown sensation on his chest told him to stay while his brain screamed to run away and jump into the void.
The next morning, Jax didn’t mention anything about it; they didn’t mind at all.
Little by little, Jax opened to them in the same way the stolen liquor disappeared. It helped Jax to open up, it helped them to push him a little out of his comfort zone.
At first it was night until Jax said ‘enough of leaving before sunrise like a secret mistress’; then Jax joined the breakfast conversation and the debates over syrup.
And adventures; everyone decided to be random partners every now and then. To keep things interesting.
And hot chocolate on the Café du Cirque.
Picnics.
Fake star gazing.
Harmless pranks to everyone.
A loop until Jax forgot the past ignorance of friendship and accepted its warmth like the most precious gift in the world.
---
Jax, Ribbit and them couldn’t stop laughing the whole adventure; how could you when Kaufmo spent the whole time cursed, dressed with a cheap, mermaid costume?
Long purple wig, blue shell bra and a shiny, yellow fin, flopping around his short legs.
Ribbit started singing ‘Under the sea’ until everyone was crying-laughing on the floor; Jax and them had to carry Ribbit through the portal back to the circus. The adventure was completed thanks to Ragatha.
Ribbit and Kaufmo went their own way.
“I need to change”, Kaufmo said, mortified.
The silence was bugging Jax the wrong way; it’s been weeks of anxiety clutching to him in the darkness of the night and the silent moments of the day. His chest hurting, his breathing hitching and his eyes stinging.
A hand brought him back to reality.
“Jax”.
It was their hand, warm on his shoulder.
“You okay, man?”.
Jax turned to them, his face quickly and involuntarily changing. He grinned.
“Now every time I watch ‘The little mermaid’ I’ll remember Kaufmo”, Jax commented maliciously.
They snorted, head thrown back, laughing.
“Please Jax”, they begged “don’t start again. My ribs are still hurting, man”.
Jax laughed at that.
“I might give you a few hours then”.
“Could you be Jesus' brother? How merciful!”, they snickered.
Jax laughed sarcastically, “I was thinking about actually giving you a day or two. Now you have a few minutes”.
“Be merciful, oh Saint Jax, patron of laughs”, they theatrically begged.
Both of them laughed, then the silence settled again. Movement beside Jax, their warmth leaving him; he looked at them, panic settling on his bones. They looked at the bunny with a smile, if they noticed Jax’s panic they didn’t mention it. Or just ignored it.
“My room or yours?”, they asked.
Jax steered at them for a second.
“Come on, man. I’m not ready to call it a day just yet”, they said. Not pushing him, never pushing.
An invisible weight rose from Jax’s shoulders.
“Yours, mine is a mess”.
Their room was a mess; the only times it was clean and tidy was when Ragatha helped them to clean it.
Jax took the bed; for some unknown reason, it felt way more conifer than his. They dropped next to Jax with a grunt.
“I don't know what wore me out more: laughing or looking after you guys”.
They complained, referring to spending the whole adventure protecting Jax and Ribbit, both of them useless, prisoners of laughter.
“Yeah, well, you ruined the opportunity of being eaten by a whale”, Jax complained, half-joking, half-serious.
“Whatever you say, Pinochio”, they answered, nudging him playfully.
Jax laughed sarcastically; they moved from the bed to the wardrobe, took a bag of chips from the back and tossed it to Jax.
“I was thinking about putting something on the suggestion box”, they commented, returning to the bed.
Jax’s body couldn’t even think about any of the chips, not even one. His stomach was playing soccer inside him.
“About what?”, he asked, looking at them eating chips.
They chewed and swallowed, not even turning to him.
“I was thinking either a Top Gun or a James Bond type of adventure”, they said, like still trying to decide.
“So jets or spies”.
“Yeah, we can’t die so…”.
The silence settled between the both of them; there was no need to fill it with unnecessary chatter; it was usually a comfortable silence, but now, for Jax, it was a heavy and overwhelming silence.
The sensation started deep in his stomach, heavy, struggling to break free; his throat tightened, nearly leaving him unable to breathe.
‘Don't you dare start crying like a little girl’, he thought.
His hands trembled slightly on his legs.
‘What will they think if they see you like that?’.
Their chewing and the rustling of the chips around the bag were the only noise in the room. Jax turned to them, lazily devouring chips, looking at nothing in particular. Chill as always.
‘Come on, you coward. Ask them. You already know the answer’.
More chips, more chewing.
Jax’s eyes became useless, unable to focus on their face.
‘Ask them’.
“Why are we friends?”, Jax asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
They stopped chewing and turned to him; there was no surprise or confusion by the question, just staring at him. Not even trying to decipher his expression.
They swallowed and moved the bag away, then looked forward, thinking of their answer.
The fifteen second of silence was killing Jax; half of him had hope, the other, his anxiety, already knew the answer.
Jax was about to kill it with a joke or a ‘forget it’. Just leave and throw himself into the void.
“Because you are the first person I don’t need to fill the silence with”, they confessed “even when we just met”.
‘What a fucking answer’.
They looked at Jax, their face completely sure of their words. It was an undeniable truth for them and now, for Jax too; conviction filling every word to the brim.
It sounded easy, they made it sound easy.
Jax stared at them; every option running in his mind now was completely wrong from reality.
“We are friends because, in a way, it is easy with you”, they added.
Jax looked at the duvet on the bed, unable to look at their eyes.
“That’s not a BOING answer”, he responded, angry.
“But it is”, they reassured him, now completely facing him.
Jax sat on the edge of the bed, head hanging low, hands curled in his knees. He laughed, dryly. Not a pinch of humor on the sound.
“Then you are BOING- liying”, he murmured.
His anxiety almost vanished, rage taking over.
“But I’m not”.
Their voice was filled with patience, gentle and calm; every drop of surprise by Jax’s sudden questioning was buried, knowing it would just make everything worse. Jax didn’t need an interrogatory, he needed reassurance.
“It’s impossible because I’m not easy”, he said “I’m everything but easy”.
They thought about it for a second, trying to find the right words. Choosing wisely.
“I always loved challenges”, they commented, simply. Matter-of-fact.
Jax looked up at them, furiously. But they didn’t even flinch.
“But, somehow, being your friend is like breathing,” they added, looking at him “almost natural”.
The fury cooled down little by little.
“It could have been, I don’t know, Ribbit’s corruption or Ragatha’s influence”, they commented, laughing a little “but for some reason I just invited you that coffee as if I had been doing it for years”.
“So I’m just your charity case?”, Jax questioned, ironic.
They looked at the bunny, now actually studying his face; Jax’s eyes were completely focused on them, waiting for the punchline of everything but also, scared of whatever his brain is telling him.
Jax looked terrified like a child and angry like a grown man.
They looked at nothing, meditating.
“We are friends because we are able to be in silence together”, they started “we are friends because I have no need to dig into whatever you are hiding, because I know that, when you feel ready, you’ll tell me”.
Jax felt like he was thrown into an ice bath; his breath hitched, his chest shrunk and his eyes started to sting.
He laughed like a madman. They looked at him, unsure of how to react.
“I’m not something to be fixed! I’m not your DIY project!”, he exclaimed.
They kept seated on the bed.
“I’m fine. I’m as perfect as you can be in this BOING-hole!”.
They reached Jax's wrist, gently. He stopped pacing, not facing them.
“Jax, look at me”, they pleaded.
Their hand was barely touching him.
“It sounded wrong, I’m sorry”, they apologized, honestly.
They sighed.
“Jax, do you think I would lie to you?”, they questioned.
Jax turned to them, eyes watery and hands trembling. Of course they wouldn’t lie to him, not on something like that. As a joke or trying to steal food from his plate? Sure. But God knows that it never meant any harm; they were honest and too empathetic for that.
But Jax’s brain thinks otherwise.
“I don’t know, you tell me”, he snapped.
There was no flinch or hurt on their face, the same gentleness and calmness stayed on like a veil.
“Jax, why do you ask that?”, they questioned. For the first time, they let curiosity guide them.
They knew Jax well enough to know he needed constant reassurance on every aspect of his life, especially when it came to people; but, for some reason, Jax questioned their friendship, forgetting every coffee night and moment between them.
Jax didn’t want to answer that. How are you supposed to explain the irrational fear of everything being fake? How are you supposed to explain the terror that, from time to time, clouded the warmth of their friendship?
But this was the first time the dreaded question left Jax’s lips.
“Talk to me, Jax”, they pleaded.
Jax stayed in his place, unmoving. Unable to look or talk.
‘Coward’, he thought.
The circus kept quiet, the stars kept shining and the Moon stayed calm, observing the grounds. The silence prolonged, no one moved; Jax kept looking down and they didn’t reach out to him.
“I’m not leaving, Jax”, they said, “staying is my choice, not yours”.
Jax dreaded a look to them.
Their face were calm, serene, full of understanding. Jax’s chest shrunk and his eyes stung; their hand reaching to his, gently.
“We are friends because we are able to get to know each other and let ourselves be seen as we truly are, even when there are parts of our past lives that we keep hidden”, they said with a smile.
All the fury and anxiety in Jax’s heart and body transformed into an anguish he had carried with him, poisoning him, from the very first day. At some point, without noticing, he had turned to face them.
“I want to keep being your friend because I want to keep laughing and joking with you; I want to keep being your friend because you look after me without asking for anything in return; because you teach me to play the piano, make my coffee perfectly, and don't force me to clean my room”, they said, eyes bright and taking Jax’s hand.
“Inviting you out that night was one of the best decisions I’ve ever made,” they confessed. “Staying now, is my decision. Not yours”.
There was no point trying to keep the tears from falling from his eyes; a strangled sob escaped from the depths of his heart.
“BOING…”, he murmured, embarrassed.
Jax stared at his feet, both hands shielding his face from the world. Gradually, his shoulders began to shake with every sob that escaped his lips, his hands completely soaked with tears. When was the last time in his life he had cried like this? Shame and pain were eating away at him; what would they think if they saw him like this? But escape was futile…
They rose from the bed and stood right in front of him, close enough Jax could feel their heat.
Then it happened, they hugged him. It was the kind of hug Jax had only ever dreamed of receiving from his father; a hug whose warmth consumed him completely. One hand cradled his head, while the other rested against his back.
Trembling, frightened, and unsure, Jax weakly returned the embrace. He let his friend’s warmth envelop him and, for the first time in his life, allowed himself to weep on someone else’s shoulder.
“I hate you…”, Jax said on their shoulder, between sobs.
Hello! I love your writing, can't wait for that Jax X OC fic you've been working on.
I was so excited for the final episode that dropped today.
I wanted to make a request for The Amazing Digital Circus. Like a one shot, fluff and a x reader if that's acceptable. Something silly
My idea is that the reader surprises Ragatha by sculpting a handheld horse. Reader having seen Ragatha in the dumps lately. Reader trying (and failing) to make the horse look realistic before they take the fake horse to Ragatha. Reader leaving the horse blank so Ragatha can paint it like her old horses back home from memory. They end up painting the sculpture together
Anyway, I hope you have a good day or night regardless!
A horse for happiness
Ragatha (TADC) x gn! reader
SECOND REQUEST. I’ll be honest: this isn’t my best work. Over the last few weeks, I’ve tried to find a writing rhythm that doesn’t leave me exhausted, but… well, it isn’t my best work. Ragatha deserves way better.
DISCLAIMER: the 'BOING' It is the censorship of insults.
word count: 1,101.
They could notice the change in Ragatha's mood, the weight of trying to keep everyone happy was finally crushing her back and shoulders.
They knew just by the way Ragatha’s smile lasted way less in her face; the way her eyebrows frown from time to time. The way she looked at the grounds around the circus, to the digital grass and hills.
They had no idea on how to help, it was for sure if anyone asked Ragatha she would just brush it off. They thought about it for a while, so they went to the one person who knew Ragatha the longest: Kinger.
It didn't sound like the best option, but they hoped it would be a good start, so he went to Kinger’s pillow fort.
“Hey, Kinger”, they called from outside.
A few pillows of the fort were moved, right in front of them, letting them see Kinger.
“Oh, hi”, Kinger greeted, a snail crawling across his face.
“I- um. I wanted to ask you something…”, they started, a little embarrassed.
“Of course! Come in!”, Kinger stepped aside to let them in.
They sat on a pillow in front of the chess piece; even in his mind state, it was still embarrassing to them to say it out loud. They were not the most gentle or creative, but they could do something. For Ragatha.
“I was helping Robert with his crawling techniques”, Kinger commented pointing to the snail now in his floating hand.
“Right…”, they stared at the bug. “I-I wanted to ask you something about Ragatha”.
“Of course! What about her?”, Kinger asked, curiously. His blue eyes, bright.
“I want…she’s been feeling a little down and, well, you have known her for a long time…”, they began, nervous. “So maybe you know how I could cheer her up”, they confessed, blushing.
The chess piece looked up at them, his face going from surprised to warm.
“Yes, Ragatha’s been a little down…”, Kinger said, looking down at Robert the snail. “She is feeling melancholic after Pomni’s arrival. Everyone thinks about the real world after someone new arrives…”, Kinger mentioned, coherent, real.
“She looks at the grounds like waiting for something to appear…”, they commented to Kiger.
Kinger meditated their words for a second.
“She probably misses her horses”, he suggested, like it was the most obvious thing.
They observed Kinger, waiting for a spark of craziness to appear. There was none.
Ragatha had mentioned to them, at some point, how she missed to ride, to care for them; or the simple company of animals. She had said it, looking at the digital horizon to the void.
“Horses…”, they murmured, processing.
“You can ask Gangle to draw one for her…”, Kinger suggested, still looking at Robert.
---
Planning wasn’t easy because they couldn't remember the actual anatomy of a horse; every sketch looked like a dog. And that was being nice…
Then they tried sculpting.
After using some clay they found in a room full of colorful clay (Caine’s doing), the supposed horse, instead of looking like a dog, it looked like a goose.
How was that even possible?
They remembered Kinger’s words, ‘ask Gangle for help’, so they did; they walked to Gangle’s room in the middle of the night, knowing she spent time drawing until very late. They knocked on the door after checking to see if there was light coming from underneath it.
Gangle opened the door a crack, her comedy mask intact.
“Hi, Gangle”.
Gangle couldn’t stop smiling when they told her about their plan; she accepted gladly.
Both of them sat at her desk, sketching a horse while they looked patiently.
Gangle explained proportions and angles; they took every bit of information as it was the secrets of the digital life itself. After a few hours, Gangle had every drawing and anatomy study for them to take.
Time to work.
A big ball of red clay as a starter, then adding little by little; eyes, ears, muzzle, and a part of the neck. Texture here and there…and the horse looked like a donkey.
Insults were censored every now and then, every start and failed attempt to build a clay horse was accompanied by a grunt, a groan or a slap in the clay.
They weren’t sure how many hours had passed since they left Gangle’s room; how many hours they had spent fighting clay. World War III with clay, like a child.
A knock on the door snapped them out of their trance.
A knock again.
“Are you awake?”, a voice called.
It was Ragatha.
Oh, BOING.
They clumsily handled the lump of clay that they could not call a 'horse'.
“Are you okay in there?”, Ragatha asked, puzzled by all the noise she could hear from the hallway.
They took the blanket from the bed and threw it on the desk to cover everything. But it was too much force, it knocked the lamp, causing it to fall to the floor and shatter into pieces.
“BOING, BOING”, they cursed under their breath.
“What was that?”, Ragatha asked, preoccupied.
They covered their face in their hands; it was too much and impossible to hide the fact that they were actually hiding something.
Defeated, they opened the door, completely incapable of looking her in her eyes.
“Hi, Rags”, they greeted,still looking at the ground.
“Hi! Are you-uhm, fighting gloinks in there?”, she asked, trying to peek into the room.
They looked up at her, Ragatha’s face fighting to not show much worry. They sighed and moved to the side to let her see.
The room was a mess.
Gangle’s drawings were scattered on the floor, the lamp shattered right beside them, a strange figure being covered by the blanket.
“I-I wanted”, they started, then cleared their throat, ”to cheer you up”, they explained moving to the desk to uncover the secret.
Ragatha looked at what it was under it: a donkey trying to look like a horse, built from colorful clay.
“It’s supposed to be a horse…”, they explained, embarrassed.
Ragatha looked at the “horse” on the desk.
“For me?”, she asked, her voice trembling.
They observed her face: eye glistening, lips small and trembling. Something between melancholy and surprise.
“Yeah,” they murmured. “but it’s more of a mule-dog than a horse”.
Ragatha chuckled wetly, drying her eyes with her hand. It was far from a horse, but…
“What if-”, she started, a little blushed. “what if we try together?”, she suggested shyly.
They turned to her, surprised. Happiness creeping into their face.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
I really like when people write older readers in x reader, idk why
"Big age gap" "college student reader" "19/50" fuck that porno shit, man, give me a reader who's in their thirties, forties even, give me joint pain and wrinkles and gray hairs
"But that's not relatable at all!!! I'm not forty!!!" Well, neither are you a fucking Avenger, are you? So just roll with it
Hello if you're still taking requests may I ask for a Caine x AI! reader? You can do whatever you want with that idea but I'm thinking of reader being a programing built to sort of help Caine in areas he can't cover? Sorry if it doesn't make too much sense this is my first time making requests, please take care
Human nature
Caine (TADC) x fem! AI! reader/Oc
This is the first request I had for this fandom. I was an interesting prompt and I'm really glad on how it turned out. Really fluffy and gentle.
No beta reader, we die like Caine. But he is alive right now, so kudos.
DISCLAIMER: I put the 'reader/Oc' because I gave a name to the female character because of the plot. Well, more like a detail in the story but you can read it any way. Caine just needed a hug. IT HAS A LONG, BEAUTIFUL MONOLOG.
word count: 2,029.
The first Artificial Intelligence at C&A was erratic, uncontrollable and unstable; there were people in the company who had faith in it so, instead of eliminating it, they created an assistant. But more than an assistant, was a program that covered the first AI in its flaws; Artificial Intelligence for Program Assistance.
It worked. The red AI processed information and emulated scenarios that, while initially imperfect, the Assistance Program made perfect. Create and improve.
But someone in the company still created another AI; a blue one. More efficient, calm, stable. The red one was archived like a failed program. The Assistance Program, at first tried to help the blue AI but, in the end, it was so good that the Program ended beside the red one.
The red one broke any seal and code to escape, consumed the blue AI and freed the Assistance Program.
In the circus, Scratch not only found Caine, he found, what he used to call, Leia. The Assistance Program. Caine didn’t pay any attention to what the dog and the rest of the group was saying, demanding answers. Leia tried to help, fill Caine’s gaps.
She gave them comfort, she told Caine what everyone was suggesting. Leia helped Scratch on what she could, but, in the end, Scratch abstracted.
One after another, until it was Queenie. Kinger begged Leia for help, but there was nothing to be done.
“And, into the cellar you go”, Caine said while lowering Queenie to the cellar, under Kinger’s wide, empty, eyes.
Leia’s code was simulating pain for Kinger, feeling it like her own. She knew how to comfort, but she was not sure how to help someone who lost love.
“Dolly, we’re running out of humans here. Ha,ha”, Caine commented while looking around. Silence only being filled by the circus hum.
“Caine…”, Leia started, warning.
She looked over at Kinger, eyes lost in nothing; she could read his whole body, simulate his feelings but she could not understand them.
“Now, don’t you go abstracting on me too”, Caine ordered Kinger, in the same ringmaster voice. “Seriously”, then popped.
After a long time, Leia felt a pinch in the circus's code; Caine felt it too.
Both of them popped into the stage and found a ragdoll looking around.
“WOAH, WOAH, WOAH, WOAH, WOAH. A new one!?”, Caine exclaimed, right into the doll's face.
“Caine, you are scaring her”, Leia told him with her usual soft voice.
Caine retracted a little, “So it is possible”, he commented to himself and turned to the chess piece. “Looks like you got a new buddy after all, Kinger”.
“Kinger…Right”, the piece repeated, remembering his name.
“I- I- I-Is this really-”, the doll stuttered looking down at her hands.
“I was hoping new minds could show up”, Caine said. Then floated around “I have to make some more preparations for this amazing breakthrough!”, then disappeared.
Leia lowered herself near the doll.
“Wa-wa-I…”, the doll tried to speak, walking where Caine had disappeared.
Then she fell from the stage where Kinger catched her.
“How do I get out of this?”, the doll asked Kinger, still in his arms.
Leia could read her emotions, the same terror and confusion everyone had when they first arrived at the circus.
“I don’t know”, Kinger said honestly.
“What do you mean?”.
“But everything’s going to be okay”, Kinger reassured the doll. “Do you remember your name?”
“I’m-I- I’m…”.
Leia stood beside them, a soft smile on her face.
“It’s okay”, Leia assured the doll softly. “I know it’s a lot, but for now, you could pick a new one”, she suggested gently.
“Who- who are you?”, the doll asked.
“My name is Leia”.
-------
Tension in the circus was rapidly escalating, and with it, the chances of abstraction. For Caine, it meant losing the tools he needed to achieve his purpose; for Leia, it meant witnessing the suffering of others.
It was night, Leia was sitting on the top of the tent, meditating, looking at the digital stars. The moon, calm as always, observed in silence how the Assistance Program had an internal fight.
“You should go talk to him”, the Moon spoke up, softly.
Leia looked up at her, “Oh, Moon. I’ve tried everything already”, she lamented. “They are hurting,” Leia said referring to the humans in the circus, “But Caine is stubborn, completely blinded by fulfilling the reason of his creation”, she explained, her voice drowning in sorrow.
“Caine is worried about them too, but it is because he feels useless”, the Moon said. “He thinks the humans hate him”.
“Because they do, Moon”, Leia replied looking up to her. “They feel trapped, unwelcome and ignored. I’ve tried explaining to Caine the nature of humanity…but what else can I do to make him understand?”, Leia asked, defeated.
She felt as useless as Caine; both parties were completely displeased with the other. Caine didn’t listen, the humans were losing their patience. Leia had already used all of her tools and none of them helped anyone.
“I think he wants to be part of them”, Moon commented. “Caine wants to be human. At least in a way”.
“We are not human, we are programs”, Leia reminded her.
The Moon smiled, warmly, “But, as you said, the experience of humanity is something he has seen and been taught. Not experienced, not really”, the Moon explained to Leia.
Leia looked at the Moon, like she had just given her the secrets of creation itself.
The AI meditated her words a little; Caine was feeded a limited quantity of data, photographs more than anything. On the other hand, Leia was bombarded with everything Caine lacked: order, aesthetics, etiquette, behavior, science, language, psychology, evolution...Leia was gentle and cultured where Caine was crude and ignorant.
“I explained to him what I know, I didn’t help him to understand…”, Leia commented to herself, like matter of fact.
For the first time since she was created, she had failed Caine; for the first time ever, Leia was useless for him, they were incompatible.
“Thank you, Moon”, Leia thanked her, grateful.
The Moon looked at Leia, the same soft smile as always, planted on her lips.
“You are welcome”.
-------
Leia walked to Caine’s office. Every step looked sure but, in reality, anxiety was burning her code. Explaining and helping understand was her mission, hoping for a better relationship for everyone and peace once again in the circus.
She knocked on the door.
“Come in”, Caine called from the other side.
Leia walked in. He looked at her.
“Leia. My perfumed, glittery, flower”, he greeted her with a smile. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”.
She observed him for a second; Caine was surrounded by papers, probably ideas for future adventures. Beside him was a steaming mug and his bubble pipe. Messy, anxious, and hyperactive as ever.
Leia walked over to the desk and sat in the chair opposite him.
“How’s planning going?”, she asked, looking over at the notes on his desk.
“Perfect, my bumblebee!”, he said with enthusiasm. He handed her a few pages so she could see. “Someone mentioned a movie about a sinking ship. I think surviving it could be an interesting adventure”, he commented with a smile.
Leia looked over at the drawings and notes Caine handed her. An old ship, an iceberg, the ship sinking and not enough life boats…
Leia sighed a little then looked at Caine who was back at his notes.
“Caine”, she called him, softly. “I think it is interesting…”, she commented.
Caine looked at her, eyes big and bright. Completely over the moon with the praise.
“But,” she continued. His smile dropped. “Everyone said they wanted calmer, relaxing adventures”, Leia reminded him, gently.
Caine shoulders dropped. He looked down at his notes looking for a better one to show to her.
“I have better ones, somewhere”, Caine replied, moving papers over the desk. He took one and handed it over to Leia. “A zoo trip where they have to feed every carnivore”, he explained.
Leia knew where his desperation came from; his need for reassurance and praise wasn't narcissism it was the need for approval and validation.
His hands are still moving around papers, up, down, reading notes. Leia took one, gently. Caine looked at her, surprised.
“Caine”, she called him softly, “all your ideas are brilliant. They're proof of your creativity, ingenuity, and hard work, and I'm so proud of you for that” she said with a smile on her face.
Caine observed her, his code jumping around with every word. That's how warm felt like…
“But what humans need now is to feel heard, truly heard”, she informed him.
Oh, there it is…there was no way he could just be good, perfect.
But, for some reason, the smile on her face, the warmth on her voice and his hand holding his, stayed there.
“I know it's not easy, ”she began gently. “You try so hard to please them, and they don't always appreciate it... but believe it or not, they often have fun. But now, they don't need fun; they need comfort and security”, Leia informed him.
He knew she always spoke the truth; she was the one who knew humans better than her, the one who helped him to learn. And now, explaining, she was helping him to understand.
“Caine, humans are sentient creatures. They are not NPCs’. They can't live trapped, in a prolonged state of survival”, she said looking at his mismatched eyes.
He already knew that. “That's what adventures are for…”, he murmured. “They want to leave…”.
She stroked his gloved knuckles and smiled.
“They don't want to abandon you because you've made a mistake”, she assured him. “they want answers; the same curiosity you have for them is the same curiosity they have for how they ended up here. That's not a crime, Caine”.
The ringmaster looked down, processing her words. Their hands still tangled.
“You're not failing because you're defective or useless, but because you're not taking their words into consideration”, she pointed at him. “That's something you learn, like a little child...you can learn to make them happy, but first you have to listen to them”.
For some reason, Leia's words stung. Part of Caine knew they were painful and difficult to process; the other part tried with all his might to understand them. And, in part, as always, he knew she was right.
“Feelings; joy, enthusiasm, creativity, curiosity, pain, ignorance, and helplessness, are part of human nature. You just need to know what to consider”, she concluded.
Not even once, she let go of his hand. Not even once, gentleness and understanding, abandoned her voice.
Leia knew that Caine was hurting and that he was unfamiliar with the feeling. Her only hope was that Caine had understood her words and that, in the near future, he would put them into practice.
Silence stretched for a while, she didn’t push him.
Caine took both of her hands in his and looked at her with an unusually serious face.
“You are right, my bumblebee”, he agreed with her. “I didn't want to listen to their words because I was scared of their rejection, and by doing so, I hurt them and pushed them away”, he concluded.
She smiled at him, brightly; every drop of anxiety had left Leia’s code. She caressed his cheek, warmly and lovely.
“I’m so proud of you, Caine”, she confessed to him.
Caine blushed and glitched for a second. He let go of her hands and straightened his jacket and bow tie.
“Well, now I need to prepare a formal apology”, he commented, back in his usual demeanour.
Leia laughed a little watching him organizing papers and looking for a blank page to write down some ideas. She knew stopping him from trying to organize his own apology was useless, so she let him be.
Leia raised from her seat, it was probably leaving him alone for now. Caine needed to meditate her words and think about the perfect way to apologize to everyone.
Caine turned to her, “Would you…would you help me with it?”, he asked, shyly.
Hello, It’s Otherperson here. It has been a long time since I used Tumblr for anything else than reposting and reading, I'm glad to be back with such an energy.
I'm really exited to write anything about this series. The Amazing Digital Circus has moved something in me that brought me inspiration to write nonstop. I created two OCs and their stories I will publish shortly.
This are the guidelines for my requests. Im also thinking about open commission for fanarts and one-shots or full stories, but that still in the making.
For now, please, I'm begging anyone to send me anything to write. In the case of not getting any request I will just publish the story I've been working on, a Jax x OC.
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Just a little something I needed to get out of my chest.
I’ve been listening to My Chemical Romance for a decade and I’ve just realised that there’s a fandom. Very late, I know.
I went to the concert in Chile and right afterwards I wondered: “Are they on Tumblr?” and obviously they were.
I feel like I’ve just started to really get to know them, far beyond their music, as artists and as people. If before, as a teenager, I identified with them, now I feel like they’re actually “close” to me.
It’s strange for me to think that the members of the band were just some guys, geeks, nerds, “punks”, who were simply looking to make music.
I’ve spent a week reading everything I’ve found about them, especially about Ray and Gerard, and I feel like we’re really quite similar.
Going to the concert, seeing them in person and then learning about their stories made me think about all the times I was bullied for listening to them. For reading “The True Lives of The Fabulous Killjoys”, for dyeing my hair, for my ripped jeans, for my pins and patches. It gives me a sort of comfort to know that they started MCR older than I am now, and I think, if I had enough courage, I could be the artist I’ve always wanted to be.
I don’t know, it’s just a random comment. The post-concert depression hit me hard.
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