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Private
Princess of Pop



encrede wrote:
with my weak pale emo fingers, i try my best to get a firm grasp around the smooth, greased tuber in my hand. might be a mixture of nerves, or the lack of muscles in my hand, but i cant quite get a perfect grip. i breathe in, slowly, breathe out. close my eyes. "you can do it, tate" i murmur, voice sultry. i tense my almost nonexistant muscles in my whole body, preparing my stance, long skinny legs keeping my balance. hearing a soft "thud", i look at the contestant next to me.... Him. the handsome german man is standing, dumbstruck, potato fallen onto the floor while he gazes off to the side. i follow his line of sight, arriving at a mirror. ah. admiring himself, i see. i smirk smugly. cant judge him. i turn, conversed feet squeaking on the ground as i get into a throwing pose. letting out a small huff, amused at the german mans (understandable) narcissism, i swirl, arm turning in a perfect angle, wrist flicking powerfully ( ;) ), greased tater smoothly flying out of my hand. perfect torque, powerful toss, perfect form. i look up, tossing my long blonde locks across my forehead, and smile. tate power.
22
Posts: 19360
Date: 11-06-2021 16:09
Private
Princess of Pop



encrede wrote:
@Klavier 
22
Posts: 19360
Date: 11-06-2021 16:11
Klavier
Minister of Pop



Klavier wrote:
i remain in a total trance, seemingly oblivious to the tater rain chaos taking place all around me, until one rogue tuber launches straight up into the air with immense speed before tumbling down, a starchy threat rushing through the piquant air, making a beeline for my beautiful head. ach! my bright eyes widen, my lips parting with an abrupt gasp, and i must make haste to avoid bruising the face that decorates millions of bedroom walls around the world. with a scrambled, panicked roll to my left, i narrowly avoid the tatos impending doom, but ach, my efforts are not enough... the spud crashes down upon my right clavicle, and an incredible pain consumes me as well as all of my senses. i bite down hard on my glossed lip to prevent the booming cry from slipping out, a (still very oily) hand reaching up to clutch at the injured collarbone. "verdammt!" i breathe out with a hushed, shaky voice, as the rage starts to rile up in my chest. "not the Klaviericle...."
as the initial shot of pain starts to wind down, my perfect, pearly teeth cease their brutish chomp upon my poor lower lip, and a slight hint of iron starts to tease my tastebuds. my hand drops from its clasp around my shoulder to now lean against the floor as i, with a groan, push my chiseled body to sit up straight so i can take a cautious look around. thankfully, it seems that everyone is so caught up in the heated, passionate battle that surrounds me that not a soul seems to have noticed the brutal tuber attack. my gaze comes to a stop as it reaches the contestant next to me, and i gasp; the deep blue eyes of herr tate langdon seem to be filled with pride as they look up to the heights of the tents roof, undoubtedly following the invisible trail of a freshly flung spud. his fierce look is accompanied by a smile. for a moment, i almost forget the shooting pain consuming my entire neck and shoulder area. he looks... powerful. "mein gott...", i whisper to myself. "tate power"
23
Posts: 46331
Date: 11-06-2021 23:43
Private
Princess of Pop



encrede wrote:
tate power! but maybe... too much power. my bright blue eyes watch on in horror as the greasy tater thrown flies directly into the german mans chest. "no—!" i exclaim, throwing my twinkish body at the man in an attempt to save him. but im too slow. and my throw was too strong. "no..." i gasp, grasping the handsome man, feeling his firm muscles through the expensive fabric of his purple suit. 
"tate power..." i hear the words escape from his glossy pink lips. i flush. 
"tate sorry... tate regret..." i whisper, my teary blue orbs still attached to his inviting parted lips. i instinctively lean closer, getting a whiff of the musky lavender scent of the older man. it just draws you closer... the man moans meekly, and i snap out of my daze. "herr klavier... please... i didnt mean to... i wasnt even supposed to throw it with my hand... i forgot.. i was..." i trail off, not wanting to admit i was too distracted by the man in question to do anything right at all...
"im sorry, herr klavier... is there anything i can do... anything at all?" i gaze at the man, feeling a warm tear spill down my blazing cheeks.
22
Posts: 19360
Date: 22-06-2021 22:34
Private
Princess of Pop



encrede wrote:
@Klavier ♥
22
Posts: 19360
Date: 22-06-2021 22:34
Private
Princess of Pop



encrede wrote:
22
Posts: 19360
Date: 23-06-2021 01:29
Klavier
Minister of Pop



Klavier wrote:
i believe it is time to revive this gripping tale.
23
Posts: 46331
Date: 19-08-2021 03:07
Private
Princess of Pop



encrede wrote:
@Klavier waiting
22
Posts: 19360
Date: 20-08-2021 00:07
Klavier
Minister of Pop



Klavier wrote:
encrede wrote:
@Klavier waiting
art takes time
23
Posts: 46331
Date: 20-08-2021 18:01
Private
Princess of Pop



encrede wrote:
@Klavier 
22
Posts: 19360
Date: 13-09-2021 01:25
Klavier
Minister of Pop



Klavier wrote:
encrede wrote:
@Klavier 
art takes time
23
Posts: 46331
Date: 13-09-2021 01:25
Klavier
Minister of Pop



Klavier wrote:
my breath is ragged as i try my hardest to focus my stormy-yet-warm blue eyes on the slender mans tearful gaze, accompanied by his desperately exclaimed apologies, thickly covered in deep regret and concern. the sight is once again nearly enough to cause every single cell in my modelesque body to halt its frantic panic caused by the unimaginable pain pulsing its way through my long, gorgeously toned limbs, but all i can manage to do is display a weak, stunningly handsome smile for the disheveled man who is now leaning dangerously close to my pretty face, unconsciously draping his arms around my trembling body. "oh, schatzi...", the words are shaky and weak as they slip through the narrow crack between my parted, quivering lips. i cringe at the sound, trying not to imagine the scolding i would get from my manager if she caught me sounding so frail and pathetic. instead, i turn my full attention, or as much of it as i can manage, back to the face hovering above my own, and i continue; "much like the spud which has now undoubtedly bruised me greatly, herr langdon..." i reach up an oily hand to lightly graze my calloused yet soft guitar-playing fingers against the pale, wet cheek of my perpetrator. "it seems i have... been struck by another tate-r... perhaps in a very different way."
as soon as the words have left my mouth, i begin to feel the weight of sleep taking over, and there is no reason in fighting it. it is inevitable. the hand that was covering my companions delicate face in the greasy, golden substance falls down to rest limply by the side of my body as i descend into unconsciousness.
23
Posts: 46331
Date: 13-09-2021 05:22 | Times changed: 1
Klavier
Minister of Pop



Klavier wrote:
23
Posts: 46331
Date: 08-10-2021 15:41
Private
Princess of Pop



encrede wrote:
fuck
22
Posts: 19360
Date: 08-10-2021 21:21 | Times changed: 1
Private
Princess of Pop



encrede wrote:
tate cries out and begs someone, anyone, to call an ambulance... QUICKLY! tears cloud his twinkish gaze, as he looks around the room, his desperation obvious. the other contestants just stare. finally someone pulls out a phone, and tate throws himself at them, grabbing the phone out of their hand. he quickly punches in the numbers: 9-1-1. he waits, breathless, for the call to go through.
“911 what’s your emergency?” he finally hears.
“it’s–i need an ambulance! right now! he’s hurt!”
“okay sir, what’s your location?”
“it’s um– the uhm–it’s the international potato throwing championship! at the place!”
“okay, we’ll have an ambulance sent there right away. is the person in question conscious?”
“n-no! he just passed out!”
“is he breathing?”“y-yes...”
“what happened to him?”
“i... it wasn’t ... i didn’t mean to!”
“sir, i need you to tell me what happened to him, so we can help him.”
“i’m sorry... i used too much power. i... i was throwing a potato... it’s the potato throwing championship right... and-its it’s just so slippery... it slipped... i accidentally hit him...”
“so you hit him with a potato?”
“y-yes... very hard... i’m so sorry... i didn’t mean to...”
“sir, where did the potato hit him?”
“...”
“sir?”
“...the klaviericle...”

tate sits in a daze until the ambulance arrives. he refuses to leave klavier’s side. people have gathered around the two of them, whispering and pointing.
“do you think...”
“i hope he’s okay...”
tate just sits. he caresses klaviers hand, admiring the perfectly defined knuckles, the soft skin. after what feels like forever, he hears the ambulance signals. people run up to him, touch his shoulder, ask him to please move aside. he lets them inspect klavier, hear the paramedics yelling things to each other. he watches them put him on a stretcher, and he follows them all the way out to the ambulance. when he tries to get on, still refusing to leave klavier, they stop him.
“sir, you can’t come with the ambulance”
“but-“
“sorry, but you can’t.”
“No.” tate says. the paramedics stop, staring at him. “i’m coming with him.”
they gaze at him warily, and at each other. tate walks onto the ambulance. this time they don’t stop him. no one stops tate power.
22
Posts: 19360
Date: 08-10-2021 21:24
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