#even if he TECHNICALLY never did anything

[sierrale8ne]

40 DAYS AND 40 NIGHTS CHAPTER NINE

thought i’d be lying if i said ‘i didn’t want you to myself.’ when you look me in my eyes and, tell me that it’s mine, i…

pairing wnba!paige bueckers x singer!oc

taglist @thaatdigitaldiary @ohbueckers @wbbgetsmewetter @rosemariiaa @tndaqlifwy @patscorner @pboogerswbb @xxloveralways14 @makethemhoesmad @slvt4her @uconnpazzi @luvapaigeeyy @hedidnotpleaseme @paigesbabygirl @mopopshop @omg-imtumbling @ch12334 @wbb4l

kalena speakss 🪽! chapter in honor of game day! but it’s not looking too good for our faves i fear.

June 2025 — Los Angeles, California

“Can you open the door?”

“In a second, K! Be patient!”

“We need to talk, open this door!” Kaylee yells, her fist pounding against the door.

I groan, tugging on some sweatpants and a shirt over my recently moisturized body. I had just gotten back from my pilates class, fresh out of a shower when she called and told me she’d be visiting.

I throw open the door, stumbling over my pant leg. “What?”

“We need to talk about your birthday show.”

The show is something we’ve been planning all year, music is what I love and I wanted to spend my birthday doing what I loved. But still, this show has been finalized for weeks, so I huff at Kaylee irritatedly. She dragged me out of the shower and banged on my door to talk about this?

“What about it, K?”

“So Summer backed out.” She starts, walking into my condo and dropping her bag on the table. She stands in my kitchen, pulling her work phone out of her pocket and setting the other on the counter. “Something came up, but I got KWN to take her spot.”

“That all could’ve been a text message. Or a phone call.” I laugh, pulling my hair over my shoulder so it would stop dripping down my back. “Why are you here?”

“What, you don’t want me here? Julian around or something?”

My eyes can’t help but roll at the mention. Not because of him, but because of the serious beef between the two.

“No he’s at a conference in Philly— are you guys ever gonna figure out your problems, by the way?” I question with a giggle. I turn around, my back facing Kaylee as I walk into my living room allowing her to make herself at home.

It’s quiet for a moment, no words spoken between me or herself even though I’m waiting for a response. When I look up from my spot on the couch her eyes are small, squinting at me. Kaylee is chewing on her bottom lip as she approaches me, gears turning in her head.

“You know, I’ve been meaning to ask you about the cameras last night.” She says. “You sure you didn’t mess with it?”

I try to avoid looking at her. I’m a good liar, but Kaylee has known me since I was 18, I can’t lie to her anymore. She’s suspicious, and though I don’t know of what it’s still incredibly nerve wracking.

“Yeah. Not at all.” Which technically isn’t a lie, I never touched that button, Paige did.

Kaylee nods, her head tilting back and forth like she’s weighing odds in her head. “And what’s his name is in Philly, yes?”

“Yes. Kaylee, what’s up with all the—”

The way she slouches on the couch next to me is exaggerated, a small thump when she cuts me off. “So then who gave you that hickey, Raye? Or all of them.”

In all honesty, I could’ve kept the lie going. I should’ve kept it going. I could act clueless, or tell her it was a bug bite, or that Julian left it a while ago. So many things I could’ve said but I chose to sit there quietly. The words piling on my tongue and dying there.

“Raye, I’m not gonna be mad. Just let me know now, so I can handle it if I need to.” She reassures me.

“No, no, you’re definitely gonna be mad.”

“Was it Paige?” I open my mouth to speak before kissing my teeth. When I make eye contact with her, she’s covering her mouth incredulously. “Raye, no.” She whines.

“I’m sorry!” I start apologizing, but in my heart I know I don’t regret anything.

“You’re gay?”

“I don’t think that’s the most important topic at hand.”

“Right, sorry.” She laughs, covering her mouth and brushing it off.

Even though I can feel her eyes burning holes in the side of my neck, I should feel embarrassed but all I can think about in my head is the manner in which the blonde left those marks on my neck.

I keep replaying that moment when I got home. Heavily buzzed and exhausted, standing in front of the mirror with my hand running across the tender skin. And the moment immediately following when Paige filled my phone with more teasing texts messages.

I remember even before then, when she was laying me down and feeling me up. Being so fucking vulgar in my ears as she told me what she wanted to do to me. So forward and nasty towards me.

The marks on my neck were a bright red last night that transformed into a deep purple when I woke up this morning. It was obvious that Paige was awfully proud of her work and how flustered she got me. After Kaylee walked in and we sat there on the couch, that smirk never seemed to leave her face.

“Those pictures. Were you guys—”

“No, we weren’t doing anything then. I promise.” I reassured. Kaylee isn’t even angry when she looks at me, but her eyes are disappointed; I’ve known her long enough to know that look. “I dunno, she just makes me feel different.”

I don’t know why I feel the need to explain myself. Kaylee simply wouldn’t understand why I chose to cheat on my pretty decent human being of a boyfriend, for a girl I’ve known for a month and a half. There really isn’t an explanation or excuse to be given. I made a mistake. A really bad one, but even then it doesn’t feel like it.

Paige doesn’t feel like a mistake, I couldn’t ever classify her as one.

The woman next to me straightens up, her elbows resting on her knees. She puts her head in her hands, thinking of what to say to me. “Different? You have feelings for her? Or are you guys just hooking up?”

“We haven’t slept together, K.”

She raises her head gingerly. “Wait so...” Kaylee begins. Her body turns to face me, suddenly I’m even more aware of the bruises on my neck. “You’re telling me, you and her have been kissing and hanging out or whatever. Telling me that you’re just friends, when you’re not. But you haven’t slept with her and might have feelings for her?”

“It’s complicated, Kaylee. I—”

“It’s messy, Raye, that’s what it is!” She runs her fingers through her short brunette hair. “You can’t be putting yourself in scandals like this. What if Julian finds out and runs to the blogs? Or if Paige outs your little affair to someone.”

I don’t hesitate to defend Paige with my first breath. “She wouldn’t do something like that.”

“You don’t know that! Y’think she can’t be pillow talking someone else right now?”

I haven’t even thought about the possibility of Paige doing all this with someone else. She isn’t like that, right? Rumors supporting that idea exist, sure, but that isn’t who she is.

“You’re still with Julian while messing with her. You think she isn’t messing with someone else either?” Kaylee practically digs the knife in deeper. “You’re thinking with your heart, not your head, Raye you know better than that.”

I do know better. I’ve always put my career first, but all it took was some icy blue eyes and blond hair to make me lose all my common sense.

I tear my eyes away from her, staring down at my hands. It feels like the weight of the world was sitting on my chest. “Fucking hell.” I mumble under my breath.

“You need to make a choice, babe. It can’t be both, you know that.”

I let out a loud groan, being forced to come to terms with all of this. “Yeah, I know.” I huff. I deserve this, I made this mess, let Paige get this close when I knew I shouldn’t have.

She was always there, everything I ever went through with Julian, Paige was the ear I needed. And because of that she weaved her way into my life and threaded a giant knot that I was left to untangle.

Then there’s Julian. Who even passed all the yelling is still the sweetheart I fell for in the first place. Lifting me up, and supporting me through it all. Yet, I still went out of my way to hurt him over and over again.

I’m fucking screwed.

—

marayemusic

liked by paigebueckers, julianbaker_, and 2,307 others

marayemusic music video coming soon 🕯️?

view all comments | 2 minutes ago

—

June 2025 — Malibu, California

“Two minutes is crazy, P.”

“Shut up. Quit being nosy.” I responded.

We played the Storm at home tonight, adding another much needed win to our season. As a result, Nika sits across from me at our table at Nobu, a much needed catch up with my good friend.

“I’m not! I wanted to talk to you about it anyway.” Nika hums. She’s smirking at me by the time I pocket my phone in my brown pants. “Those photos look like you got a lil girlfriend.”

“Definitely not a girlfriend. It’s complicated, Nik.” I answer, reaching for my passion fruit drink and taking a sip. “She got a boyfriend.”

Nika’s jaw drops as she looks at me. Maraye and Julian’s relationship is still surprisingly kept out of the public eye. I had to applaud her for it, I didn’t think she would be able to pull it off with how much Julian had been nagging her.

“Are you being serious.” Nika asks me. Our server comes back to the table with our food. I smile, muttering a thank you and taking my plate of Wagyu salad.

“Oh yeah. Deadass serious.”

“Paige.”

“I swear it’s not my fault.” I shake my head in defense. “She just— it’s literally impossible to stay away from her, bro.”

Nika doesn’t even try to stop the cackle that leaves her throat, ridiculing me and I can’t help but laugh with her. If I wasn’t in this position, I probably would’ve been laughing at myself too. Down bad over a girl who’s in a relationship, and allegedly straight. It’s truly comical.

“Oh my God, you’re pussy whipped!”

“Chill!” I scold, kicking her leg under the table in an attempt to quiet her down from yelling obscenities in this nice ass restaurant. “I haven’t even had sex with her, Nik. This ain’t what you think it is.”

She feeds a piece of sushi into her mouth. “You know what this reminds me of?” Nika asks, tapping her chopstick against the ceramic plate. “This reminds me of Nyla.”

I stop digging into my salad and roll my eyes at the mention of her name. The mention of the girl who I had been seeing for a large part of my college career. We’d slept together for a while, then I caught feelings and made it complicated. In all honesty you could blame Nyla for my lack of dating, but this wasn’t that.

Maraye wasn’t anything like Nyla whatsoever. I truly believed that.

“There’s been many other girls since Nyla, y’know that right?” I explain, my lips moving into a tight line.

“Ew, I don’t need to know about your slut activities, P.” She brushes me off.

“You asked!” I counter.

“My point is, you’re letting yourself get in too deep again.” She tells me and I turn my attention back to my food. “I’m not your mom. Explore, get to know people, I don’t care. But exploring with the straight girl, with a man is gonna get you hurt, P.”

My leg bounces soundly under the table. It’s a weird feeling, because in my heart I know Maraye is nothing like Nyla. But at the same time, we’re doing all that we’re doing while she goes back home to Julian.

“I can never figure her out.” I start, catching Nika slightly off guard. “I dunno if she likes me, or if she just wants sex, or if I’m jus’ a distraction for him.”

“You caught feelings for her, didn’t you.”

I hate that word. Feelings. I hate admitting them, I hate feeling them.

I think I do have feelings for Raye. She’s all I ever seem to be thinking about nowadays. I’m searching for her in everyone else. When someone laughs I’m thinking that it doesn’t sound like hers, or how someone’s perfume doesn’t smell as good as her’s does.

“I feel something for her, that’s for damn sure.” I shrug, mouth full of some fancy steak. “I needa clear my head, I’m never thinking straight when it comes to her.”

Nika stifles a giggle, covering her mouth with her palm.

“What?” I ask.

“Not thinking straight. Get it.”

I stare blankly before shaking my head. This was the person who I was trusting to give me advice. “Ha ha, dyke joke. Real funny Nik.”

“You said it, not me!” The giggles some more before finally pulling herself together. “All I’m saying, is that you don’t deserve to get hurt again. Take some time, figure it all out, and then be honest with her.”

I nod, taking it all in. Maraye is amazing in all ways possible, and I shamelessly want her to myself. But unfortunately that just isn’t the case. She isn’t my own, she belongs to someone else. I keep telling myself that I have to respect that, but it just becomes harder and harder every damn day.

I don’t know how to be second best. I’ve never been second best or allowed myself to be that. Whether it’s basketball or anything else in life, I’d rather be dead last than second best.

So to know that Julian is Maraye’s first choice, and I’m forced to be second is fucking unbearable.

Maybe I do need space. Figure out what it is I want from her and move forward from there. I don’t know how to do that though. I was fucking miserable that week where she wasn’t texting me, now I need space. Funny how that works.

“P?”

“Hmm?”

“You good?” Nika asks, spicy mayo at the corner of her lips.

I nod, feeling my mood slightly diminish just thinking about all this. “Yeah, fine. How’s recovery goin’?” I ask, changing the subject and moving the spotlight off of myself.

[bad268]

hi can u do a paul aron x reader fic where she is like max fewtrell sister and like for a video on yt there react to the readers tiktoks where she has been slowly soft lauching her relationship with paul i hoped that makes sense can lando also be there reacting to the tts too she then later confrims she dating paul

smau/irl

TikTok Secrets (Paul Aron X Fewtrell! Reader)

Fandom: RPF/F2/F3

Requested: Clearly (I love this so much, side note, I'm open to writing for Max Fewtrell now)

Warnings: sexual inuendos ig

POV: Second Person (You/your/They/them)

W.C. 1427

Summary: A quadrant video unearths a secret crush (at least, to Max it was a secret)

As always, my requests are OPEN

MASTERLIST // HITLIST

~~(^Pinterest)

Max thought this was an interesting idea. He knew you were always on TikTok, and as a member of Gen-Z, you were bound to have some questionable videos in your likes. He had mentioned the idea briefly to Lando, but then Lando agreed it would be funny to go through your liked TikTok videos for a Quadrant video. 

You showed up in the studio clueless since he didn’t tell you what the video was before this. You just handed your phone to Lando because that’s what you always did. Lando or someone behind the camera would take everyone’s phones out of the room, so there would be no interruptions. It was something that didn’t make you bat an eye.

“Hello everyone, and welcome back to another Quadrant video,” Max started off. “We have my sibling here, and today, we will be going through their TikTok liked videos.”

“Wait, Max, no,” You tried to protest as Lando handed the phone to Max. It was times like this when you regretted not having a stronger password on your phone. “I never agreed to this!”

“It’s not like you have anything to hide, eh?” Max teased as he opened your TikTok immediately and went to your liked videos. Thankfully, nothing super questionable played out when the app first loaded up. “See? This is normal Gen-Z humor stuff.”

You had been on a brain rot cycle that morning, so most of your recent liked videos were super random. The recording went on with casual and chaotic banter between you and Max, with Lando chiming in from time to time again from behind the camera. All was well until Max reached the section of videos you didn’t want him to see. The edits.

“Woah, does my sibling have a crush on a certain F2 driver?” Max teased as he watched the seemingly never-ending Paul Aron edits in your liked videos. “I thought this was a joke, but this is a little excessive, don’t you think?”

“Max, cut it out, please,” You pleaded as you tried to grab your phone. “I’m begging, cut this out.”

“Tell me, and I’ll cut it out of the video,” Max replied as he set your phone down but kept it out of your reach. 

“Cut the cameras now, and I’ll spill,” You countered, and Max nodded, gesturing to Lando to stop the recording. “Maybe I have a crush.”

“My little sibling has their first crush!” Max gushed as he squished your face between his hands. “You’re all grown up now! Stop it.”

“I can’t really just stop,” You chuckled, pushing his hands away from you. “I’m almost 20 now, Max. I’m more than grown up.”

“You’ll always be my little sibling, and that’s final,” Max joked. “So, do you need me to set you up with Paul?”

“You don’t even know Paul,” You chuckled in disbelief. This was not how you thought he was going to react, but you’re not complaining yet. 

“I’m more in the motorsport world than you are,” Max pointed out, “And by association, I’m closer to him than you. Let me set you two up.”

“Fine, if you want,” You relented, rolling your eyes. “Can we wrap this video up now? I’d like to go back onto my brain rot streak.”

“You Gen-Zers,” Max muttered, shaking his head.

“You are Gen-Z too, technically,” You teased, using this time to snatch your phone. “Now, let’s end this video.”

“Fine,” Max groaned before gesturing to Lando to resume filming, “Well, that does it for this video. We’ll see you next time!”

~

~

“Y/n, explain now,” Max pressed as soon as you answered his call. You were lying in bed with Paul at the hotel since it was the start of the race weekend, and his call woke you both up. If he was going to start your day like this, you weren’t going to be nice about it.

“What ever happened to “hello”, “good morning”, “how are you”, “what are you doing”, or y’know, any conversation starter?” You dragged out as you put the phone on speaker and laid your head back against Paul’s chest.

“Hello, good morning, how are you? What are you doing? When were you gonna tell me you were already dating Paul?” Max rushed, getting progressively louder as his sentence went on.

“Hello to you too. I’m doing well other than you woke us up at the ass-crack of dawn-”

“What do you mean “us”? Is he with you right now?” Max cut you off.

“Yes, now, if I can continue,” You cut back in with a sharp tone, “We were asleep, and you woke us up at the ass-crack of dawn. Do time zones mean nothing to you?”

“How was I supposed to know you were with him?” Max defended, almost completely forgetting his original point of the call.

“I told you I was going out of England for work,” You explained. “I said I was going to Qatar for work. I literally texted this to you yesterday.”

“You work with Paul? Since when?” Max questioned.

“Since I realized I can work remotely. Graphic design can be done from anywhere. I just decided this week it’s being done in Qatar,” You justified, looking up at Paul, who was trying his hardest not to laugh. “Was there a point to this, or can we go back to sleep? We had a long night.”

“Don’t fucking tell me what you did last night!” Max screamed into the phone, and both of you started laughing out loud. “Don’t laugh at this! I don’t wanna know what my youngest sibling does with the boyfriend I didn’t know they had! You’re just a baby!”

“One, I’m not a baby. Two, our flight got delayed, and we didn’t get to our hotel until about 2 this morning. We’re too tired to do anything but sleep, Max,” You deadpanned once you calmed your laughs. 

“I at least would’ve expected you to tell me before you posted it,”  Max complained.

“Would you like to know how long before we announce that?” Paul chipped in.

“I don’t wanna hear anything from you,” Max snapped before completely changing his tone, “Y/n, how long have you been with Paul?”

“About 9 months,” You chuckled at his quick switch. “We wanted to make sure we were strong before letting everyone in, and you were included in that. Sorry, bro.”

“Do not “sorry, bro” me like that’s gonna fix this,” Max complained, knowing you always pulled this whenever you wanted to sweep something under the rug. “It’s not gonna work on me.”

“Sorry, bro,” You said again with a smirk, “I’ll call Mum and tell her how much you hate me. I’m sorry, bro. I didn’t mean to make you feel left out.”

“No, I was just a little hurt. It’s fine,” Max comforted, feeling bad that he made you feel upset. Despite his original anger towards the situation, he hated making you feel bad. Call it a big brother thing, but he feels bad whenever he’s the reason behind your pain.

“So you’re not mad at me?” You pouted even though he couldn’t see you, but Paul could. He knew you were using your younger sibling power to get your way.

“No, I can’t be mad at you,” Max comforted, “I can understand where you two are coming from, so I’m not upset about it.”

“Good, we’re going back to sleep now then,” Your tone switched back to its usual peppy style, “I’ll call you later this weekend or something. And don’t worry, we’ll be safe, promise.”

You didn’t give him the chance to say anything as you ended the call and put your phone on Do Not Disturb. You moved it back to the bedside table as you got comfortable in Paul’s arms again.

“You know you gave him a heart attack, right?” Paul chuckled lightly as he wrapped his arms around your shoulders, pulling you to be practically on top of him.

“That’s my job as the younger sibling,” You replied sleepily as you got your head comfortable against his chest, listening to his heartbeat. “You do the same thing to Ralf, so don’t even start.”

Almost on cue, Paul’s phone started ringing. Who was calling? Ralf.

~~~~~

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[dunmeshistash]

Re: How Dungeons Work

While scolding Laios and Marcille, Flamela mentions that the Canaries would need to prepare a replacement Lord if Marcille wanted to step down. The Lion also mentions falling into the Canaries' hands, and after it is defeated the Queen seems to lament that the Magic/Spell That Grants Any Wish has been lost.

Maybe the Elves were using Dungeons to do something after all?

I find it interesting that the Queen's remark can be read as referring to the Demon itself as a kind of spell, almost like a construct or AI. Thoughts on that?

Lastly, the Ancients built the Dungeons as a counter to the demon's consumption of desires. Do you think they succeeded? Is there a way to use them safely? After all, the Ancients were destroyed by a wish/their own will, not by the demon's agency. Maybe they and maybe even modern Elves know how to act as Lord without getting eaten at all? It seems technically feasible from what we see, Thistle just sealed it away too late.

Hello!

Going by each question

I think they would need a replacement specifically in Marcille's case since she wants to step down, they cant move her to the surface because the dungeon is already spilling out. I imagine the subistitute lord is a temporary solution to remove Marcille from the Dungeon (someone with less destructive wishes)

I don't think the elves are doing anything with the dungeon from their track record, since they collapse dungeons, what Kabru dislikes is how they go about it (with no regard for other's), Utaya is an example of just how destructive Dungeons can be. (The canary plans are always to collapse dungeons and there's no hint about it being anything else is there?)

The queen is a weirdo, but to me the way she talks about it sounds more like a relief "'The spell that grants any wish' has been lost. there is time" as in that is no longer an impending danger for their world? EHScans even translates it as "we have the luxury of time"

In the world there's also no difference between the demon and magic itself, as we learn in chapter 87 the demon is magic given personality so she's not wrong to call him that.

I think the ancients succeeded in the sense that they managed to seal the demon inside dungeons, but they had the plot lost from the start, having all you wish for granted goes against being a living being, craving and wishing is part of living so it was doomed to fail as it did. The demon also doesn't understand ofc

As I said it goes against being human so I don't think it's possible at all to use the demon, you would end up just like the ancients wishing for everyone to die, the best example of why this would never work Kui gives us is the tale Laios tells in the nightmare monster tidbits

"One tires of happiness quickly, but tragedy is bottomless. Seeking further stimulation, it must be that the human heart compels the nightmares to create bad dreams"

The future the Demon wanted granting everyone's wishes would have probably also ended up in a living hell for them.

Also I don't think Thistle 'sealed him away too late', he kept deteriorating even after locking up the demon it seems. Marcille suffers from it too even after sealing him.

hope these answers helped!

[questionableratatouille00]

ʜɪɢʜᴡᴀʏ ᴛᴏ ʜᴇʟʟ 4

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Summary: In an effort to get the two of you to bond, Tony Stark sends you and the ex-assassin Bucky Barnes on a road trip together. The reason? You hate each other. The situation? Two weeks in a car together. The reward: three days of a resort vacation. And the problem? He's kinda cute.

Warnings (Entire Series): Enemies-to-lovers, cursing, sexual tension, angst, fluff, crying, fighting, violence, chaos, mentions/talk of trauma, discussions of mental health, and potentially more.

Warnings: Reader wears a dress, cursing, mentions and eating of food, let me know if more needs to be added.

[Series Masterlist] <- Haven’t seen pt. 1?

𝑹𝒊𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝑺𝒉𝒐𝒕𝒈𝒖𝒏

Day Two

"You look..fine." You mumble, refusing to say what you really meant: hot.

He nods awkwardly, before tilting his head towards the elevator. You walk with him to the elevator, and you try and study his expressions as you wait to get to the first floor.

He looked lost in thought. Shit. That was never good. If he wasn't talking, whether that meant exchanging insults with you and Sam or marveling at modern technology with Steve, he was lost in his head.

You’d noticed that since he’d moved to the Compound was that he was getting better. Better, in the sense that he wasn't staying holed up in his assigned bedroom pretending that the world didn't exist. Better in the sense that he was talking to people now. Better in the sense that he wasn't waking up violent or screaming in the middle of the night.

Yeah, sure, he's a petty asshole who's extremely good at pissing you off, but even semi-joking insults are better than eerie silence and pure fear of the outside world.

When he'd arrived at the Compound, he'd avoided everyone, even Steve. He didn't speak, barely acknowledged people unless he had to. He didn't eat. He could barely sleep. It was like he was a ghost. The first time Peter came over while Bucky was around, Bucky seemed to have shut down a little.

Peter was a good kid. He stayed over in his room during weekends, or even occasionally during weekdays in the summer. He didn't ask intrusive questions, and he really did try his best to make Bucky feel welcome. But it really just terrified Bucky.

After a few months of court-mandated therapy, which slowly evolved from twice a week to once every two months throughout the span of a year, he seemed to recover. He slowly learned to get out of those post-HYDRA habits he'd picked up. He'd eat with the rest of the team. He'd join in on weekly movie nights. He'd even help Wanda when she cooked for the monthly 'nice-family-dinner' days. She always loved making the food for those.

He started watching baking shows with Vision. He'd hang out with Natasha. He pestered Steve in a way only a best friend ever could. He made jokes. The first time you ever heard the former brainwashed assassin make a joke will be forever ingrained into your mind. It had been some stupid joke about Steve's old costume, and it had shocked everyone in the room. Except for Steve.

He only went silent like this on particularly bad days. Nobody ever said anything, because they knew that would only make it worse, but it was obvious whenever something rough went down. 'Bad days' meant days that followed nightmare-filled nights, or days that involved flashbacks or recovering from flashbacks, or days that were ruined by something triggering him.

"You good, there?" You decide to speak up, just as the elevator door opens.

He nodded quickly, beginning to walk to the truck. He hops into the driver's seat, and you don't fight him on it.

"We're a bit late." You note, glancing at the time. 6:13pm. Technically, it started at 6:00pm and ended at 10:45pm.

"Holy shit." You say aloud, looking through Bucky's window at the beautiful decorations. There were string lights strung from light posts, and hay bales for some reason, and other cute things. There was a little stage set up, with a small band playing vintage songs. There were little stands set up where you could buy food or random 1940's themed shit.

"You ready?" You looked to Bucky, before checking in the mirror to make sure the red lipstick you'd applied hadn't smudged.

He nodded, parking the truck against the sidewalk. He waited for you to walk around the front of the vehicle to join him.

"I'll grab us some dinner. You up for this? We can always go back--"

"I'm fine." He said, and at first you thought that he was getting annoyed at you, before a quick glance to his face assured you that he was just trying to convince himself of this. "I'm fine." He repeated.

The air was warm, and the yellow light of the string lights combined with the street lights made Bucky look..really nice.

"Ooh! That place looks good. C'mon!" You grabbed his hand, pulling him forward.

You pulled him to the food stand, excitedly looking around the little square. People from well into their nineties to kids who couldn't be older than five were all dressed up. You and Bucky blended in incredibly well.

"What do you think you're gonna get?" You asked Bucky, intending to pay.

"Not sure. Might just get a burger and fries."

"That sounds good. I'm not sure what I want yet. Everything looks amazing."

When the family in front of you got their food and left, you quickly made your decision, and Bucky made his. Just as you were about to put your card into the card swipe machine, Bucky beat you to it. When you opened your mouth to argue, Bucky gave you a sharp glare, silently telling you to shut it.

“I was going to—“ You begin, but he cuts you off quickly. “I got it.” He paid quickly for the meal, before leading you off to a table. There were a bunch of circle tables set up in a large rectangle. In the center, people danced in small circles or in sets of twos.

Setting the plastic baskets on the table, Bucky pulled out a chair for you. “What a gentleman.” You tease, and he just rolls his eyes.

The band played covers of old songs, and you couldn’t help but wonder if Bucky recognizes any of them.

Once the both of you wolfed down the delicious food, you looked around. The band was loud, so you had to talk at a slightly louder volume than normal.

There were lots of couples, ranging from elderly couples slowly swaying together, to newlyweds quickly moving and bouncing to the upbeat music.

You noticed Stacy, the long-haired brunette who worked at the Brandon Center. She was in her own baby blue 40’s dress, which paired well with her hair and bright green eyes.

She was standing at a table in front of her Aunt Brenda, and Barbara from the hotel.

Her grandma and her great aunt live up here, you remember. She’d said so at the store.

Barbara and Brenda were also dressed up, smiling and laughing at something Stacy said. Stacy was standing, but Barbara and Brenda were sitting together.

You looked to Bucky who was zoning out. “You okay?” You asked, and he snapped his gaze up to meet yours.

“Fine.” He assured. "Dance with me."

"What?" You look at him, bewildered.

"Dance with me." He repeats, standing up before pulling you out of your chair by your hands.

"Why are you--" You don’t get to finish as he pulls you to the makeshift dance floor, before pulling you close to him.

"Shut up and dance with me."

"Y'know, that's a song." You felt it was important to note this.

"Weird." He states, before he glances past you, his eyes narrowing.

"If looks could kill." You commented, and he focused back on you. "Who're you looking at?"

"The douchebag who's been staring at you for the past eight minutes." When you turned your head to look back, Bucky stepped to the side, forcing you to swing your body to avoid being crashed into.

"You've been watching him?" You thought it was weird that the guy who hated your guts seemingly wanted to keep you safe.

"Shut up." He glared at you, before he continued to sway with you to the rhythm of the song.

"I thought you said you couldn't dance."

"I said that I didn't. Not that I couldn't." He muttered, before spinning you.

You instantly recognized the opening notes of 'It's Been a Long, Long Time', and you look to Bucky, who also seemed to recognize it.

You laugh as the two of you continue to sway to the music together, before the song ends. Bucky keeps his hands on your hips, your hands on his shoulders. “I’m sorry we got off on the wrong foot. You’re not that bad.” You grin goofily.

“You’re not so bad either.” Bucky looked at you, a small grin on his face.

“Friends?”

“Something like that. You’re a punk.”

“And you’re a dick.” You shot back.

It was impossible to miss how all of the couples close to you glance at Bucky's hand, clearly metal against your red dress.

"They're all staring at me like I'm some kind of monster." He mutters darkly, beginning to pull away.

You pull him closer. "Who gives a shit.”

“I do. Tony does. The Avenger’s PR team does.” He retorted.

“Okay, smart ass.” You rolled your eyes, before glancing around. One old guy was staring at Bucky, as were the surrounding groups of people. “We can go, if you want. My feet kinda hurt.” You lied, hoping that if you gave a reason to go, he’d feel better about agreeing. When he gave you a simple nod, you smiled. You lead him to the truck, taking him by the hand. Once you reached it, you stepped down off the curb, opening the passenger door.

“That was..fun. For you, right? Like, you’re doing okay?” You asked after a few minutes. Everybody in the tower knew about Bucky’s nightmares and night terrors. Whether it was from hearing him scream late in the night or in the earliest hours of the morning, or if it was from being the one to wake him up from them a few times. It was just something that nobody talked about.

“It was alright.” He murmured. This was a win.

As he drove the two of you back to the hotel, you smiled to yourself.

Shorter chapter this time. Not feeling so great post-elections. Also, my taglist won’t link unless I format it like this. For the good of all, subscribe to/follow the HtH Masterlist post and I’ll reblog with a link to the newest chapter each time. (Hopefully you’ll get a notification?)

Taglist: @afraidofshrimp @kandis-mom @laughterafter @cjand10 @emmsybucky

@mrsnotfeelingsogood

@matchat3a @identity2212 @ilovemcuff @unaxv

@mysticalfuncollectorus @highwaytomichelle @lilbloggs @ordelixx @skiemi-blog

@allieb913 @winterslove1917 @chimchoom

@moonlight-readings

graphics by the wonderful @saradika-graphics

[tripleglitchwriting]

I heard you're up for writing prowl (⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠)!! Maybe just cute moments of reader and prowl cuddling or baking.... anything thats cute

I did it! I posted something!! Yippee!!!

This is fluffy prowl and reader movie night!!

It’s technically Earthspark Prowl, but I didn’t really do much of a deep dive into his character so it’s just kind of an amalgamation of Prowl’s in my head.

Anyway, enjoy :-)

Movie night. Your favorite time. It just happened to be incredibly difficult to set up with a guy hellbent on working 24/7. Luckily, you knew how to be creative by now. And so when you located a particularly bountiful energon deposit, a plan started to come together.

…

“Don’t.” He rumbled, “Do not touch that.”

Prowl loomed over you like an angry building, but you knew better than to be worried. The mine you’d “accidentally” found was a treasure trove of glittering, luminescent crystals reminiscent of the fantasy worlds in your dreams. It was beautiful, but not your mission. His, maybe, but not yours.

Being about the size of Prowl’s palm, you had to watch your step everywhere you went, else you somehow impale yourself on an energon shard. Of course, you used this to your advantage.

“Hm? Why? You scared?” You teased, just slightly poking the tip of a particularly sharp one.

“No, I’m concerned. You’re going to get yourself hurt.”

“What’s the problem? I see you drinking this stuff all the time!”

“Yes. Because I run on it, you don’t— it’s not even processed yet! So stop touching it.”

“Oh… I don’t know, it looks pretty delicious…”

“Are you glitched?”

“We’re about to find out!” You just about graze your teeth on a crystal before you are unceremoniously yanked away by a gigantic metal hand.

“Seriously, what in Primus’s name do you think you’re— oh. Oh. You little— don’t give me that, I can see what you’re doing!”

“Oh? And what am I doing exactly?” You grinned. He growled back.

“You have the right to remain silent. We’re going back to base and reporting this to Prime.”

And so you did. And he carried you the entire way back. You didn’t want to stay there for any longer than you had to, as pretty as it was, because tonight was movie night.

Prowl never left a job unfinished when it was right in front of his face. You suspected he would try and execute every procedure ever passed into law when it came to new energon deposits on an alien planet, even if he’d been living there for months now. And he would’ve done it right there. Standing in the equivalent to a cave full of explosives. Like a stubborn idiot.

You also knew that, if he didn’t do it, the rest of the Autobots would. Like they’re supposed to. Because it’s their job. With a mine like that, they’d be occupied for the entire night. How convenient…

…

When you finally arrived back at headquarters, he was already heading to his office. “Office” being a loose term here, as it was really just a room he put a desk, chair, and datapads in. The most basic, bland, boring kind. That was all he needed.

But not you. And you were going to make sure your plans went through.

“PROOOOOWL!!” You yowled right next to his audial receptor. He’d been doing whatever important report, but you figured it could wait.

“AGH!” He jointed up in his head, “WHAT?!”

“It’s almost time! Movie night!”

“Oh- you little fragging scraplet, can’t you see I’m doing something important?”

“More important than Terminator? Or Robocop?”

“Leagues more important than those sorry excuses for mechanical representation.”

“Oh, fine, I’ll just… put on Spaceballs…” He stopped.

“You wouldn’t.”

“I would. And I’d play it so loud that you could never focus on your work.”

“Don’t—” but you had already slid down his desk, racing to the adjacent room.

“YOU— DO NOT PLAY THAT AWFUL FILM!”

“I can’t hear you over the sounds of LONE STARR and his GOOFY GANG of SILLY characters!”

He could never catch you in time. Not because he wasn’t fast enough, no, he could pick you up in a second, but because you already had the trap set. The room you’d ran into was decked out with the best projector tech you could find. (AKA, the best projector tech you could convince Nightshade to make without turning the movie into a 5D nightmare) You had popcorn, energon candy, a mountain of blankets, and quite the wide array of tasteful films.

When he finally entered your snare, you received the most withering death glare known to mankind. But everything that withers must also bloom, and you could see joy behind his optics. Mostly because they were shining significantly brighter than usual. Hah, and he thinks you can’t tell when he’s hiding his real feelings.

The fairy lights you’d set up glowed a beautiful gold against otherwise dark corners. Your face was just slightly visible, especially with how small it was compared to him, but you knew he could see your beaming smile. He let out an exaggerated ex-vent, doorwings forcefully dropping and optics rolling. Still, once he finally sat down next to you, you saw them perk right back up again.

“We aren’t watching that horrendous mockery of a movie, right?”

“Psh, I don’t even have the DVD anymore. You broke it after flipping the table. Tonight, you get to decide what we watch.”

“Wait, I… but I thought you enjoyed choosing the film.”

“Sure I do. But I want to watch what you want to watch tonight.”

And his optics grew bright again, illuminating your wide selection of 80’s, 90’s, and early 2000’s DVDs. Breakfast Club, Mean Girls, Star Wars, The Godfather, Planet of the Apes… everything you could think of he hadn’t already seen.

So you were a little caught off guard when he chose The Princess Bride. Something he’d seen nearly ten times already.

Oh, sure, he played it off as an excuse to ‘get to know human culture’, but the same could be said for every other movie on the planet. You didn’t argue.

As the night progressed, you were eventually able to get him to pick you up. For a guy who claims to dislike soft things, he sure does put up with a lot of pillows and blankets for you.

You tried not to move when he unconsciously ran a digit down your back. Or when he pet your hair. Or when he adjusted himself to make sure you weren’t about to fall out of his fabric covered palm.

You fell asleep long before the movie ended. You couldn’t possibly know that he denied every call on his comm link, shooed away any bot curious enough to crack open the door, and completely forgot about the report that had been oh so important earlier.

You also couldn’t know that, had he wanted to, he could just turn his audials off if he didn’t want to hear you watch Spaceballs. He could’ve left you at the base when he realized you’d stumbled upon an energon mine. He could’ve made you leave his office when he worked on his reports. But he didn’t. He didn’t because the minuscule weight you provided in his servos was everything he needed.

Work could wait just a little longer. Tonight was movie night.

[boom-bada-boom]

i need. to write out my thoughts. about the ghost zone. (and the infinite realms)

ok ok so. infinite realms. reasonably, that would mean they are infinite. the realm where the dead goes. every universe is connected to it. every place where the dead gather is inside of it.

what this means.

think of the realms like an ocean. and there are islands, that are above the water. these islands are universes, and they are not connected by anything above the water. but they are connected in the water; you cant walk to another island but you could swim there. thats what the realms are, for every universe. it is the ocean they float in.

now think of the environments within the ocean. those are the different parts of the realms. everything is there. every afterlife exists as an environment within this ocean that is the realms. the greek underworld, the christian heaven/hell, etc etc. some of these afterlives are anchored to specific universes, and others are general afterlives that take deaths from several universes. the ghost zone is actually one of those environments, technically. its a large part of the realms, but not the entire thing.

an important thing to note is that the ghost zone is special compared to any other environment within the realms. those other afterlives are self-contained, without crossover. they are part of the realms but their dead cant leave to the wider realms. the denizens of the ghost zone, however, can travel wherever they want in the infinite realms, including into other ecosystems and even to those universes above the water if they have the power for it. because they are more ectoplasm than other realms beings, and thus made up of more of the substance of the realms. that gives them special privileges, and also means the ghosts of the ghost zone are not like any other ghost. theyre sort of like the ghosts of ghosts; more powerful, more influential, more varied.

another important detail is that the infinite realms are alive, in a way. there is a consciousness there, that picks and chooses and plays favorites. for this reason, pariah dark was never the king of the realms, but instead king of the ghost zone. still a powerful being, but not as powerful as he could have been. the realms must accept you as king for your title to be king of the infinite realms, and pariah dark did not have that favor. it must share itself with you, allow you to perceive it in its infinity, put a piece of itself inside of you. (another note, it is only a denizen of the ghost zone that could become king of the realms, because only a being of pure ectoplasm could handle the pressure of infinity.)

danny phantom does have that favor, along with the crown and the ring and the ectoplasm necessary.

an important note, especially for crossover stuff, is that being the ruler of the realms is like being the god of gods. because gods have specific universes and specific afterlives under their control, but they have no power over that ocean that is the infinite realms.

basically if the crossover vibe isnt

then i dont want it

(ps hes doing this experiment with tucker and then sam pulls up and shes like “danny! i cant believe youre going to try and eat concrete! … without trying to eat plastic waste first because if you actually can eat it then you could solve so many environmental issues holy shit—“)

[suzukiblu]

A/B/O Omega Kon Alpha Darcy Lewis

Darcy thinks maybe her new intern is a slut. Like–a big one. Big ol’ slut. 

Both metaphorically and literally, since he's 6’3” of Kansas beefcake and maybe the literal only human being alive who has a build remotely comparable to Thor's. 

So like, a billion steroids or secretly an alien, Darcy’s assuming. Or maybe somebody’s very sexy sexbot because if this omega was built to spec to look like this there is no way he is not a sexbot. Only the thirstiest motherfucker alive would design that face and those thighs and those pecs. 

Darcy has very nice tits. Like, upper-echelon level ones, frankly, which she is not too modest to pretend otherwise about. This omega, however, has pecs that cannot be contained by any T-shirt or farmboy flannel, much less any respectable button-up or lab coat, plus abs that can’t be contained by any of those either and an ass that somebody could bounce a quarter off. No matter how technically professionally he’s dressed, this omega looks like he’s starring in the first five minutes of a porno about a naughty lab assistant. Even his stupid glasses look like the cheapo fake ones that the naughty lab assistant only ever wears to get come spattered all over them. 

So like, that's been constantly haunting her and also making her feel like one of the creeps who only hires interns they wanna fuck. 

Darcy swears that she did not actually see Conner Kent in person before she hired him. She didn’t even see his face; they did a phone interview because the internet at his parents’ farm is apparently too spotty for Zoom. When he actually showed up she'd assumed he was a prank from the engineering department and actually a stripper or something. 

In her defense, literally any pair of pants that Conner Kent wears just looks like tearaway pants, alright? Just he wears every pair of pants like he could rip them straight off at a moment’s notice. It is frankly a problem. There are so, so many people finding thinly-veiled excuses to swing by her lab and ogle the dude while he’s just doing normal labwork while being too damn hot for any human being to actually be expected to be, especially in a lab environment, and he has definitely fucked his way through a good eighty percent of said oglers already, more than once during work hours. 

Whatever, it was always over his lunch break and he’s always polite enough to use the decon shower to get the sex pheromones off after, so Darcy’s not gonna judge. Be incredibly jealous of whoever’s pheromones he’s washing off, maybe, but not judge. 

And in fine “inherited from Jane Foster” tradition, the guy’s not even a science major and is only here for the college credits. He’s actually an art major, in fact, which is presumably why he keeps doodling weird designs in the margins of all her paperwork and leaving bafflingly perfect mini-sculptures around the lab. Darcy does not even know how he makes sculptures that good so quick. She has literally never even seen him with any sculpting tools or anything, but definitely she has seen all the tiny farm animals and superheroes and tropical flowers he keeps leaving all over the place. 

So like, her shiny new intern is a super-hot omega the size of an Asgardian warrior who cannot say a single sentence without it coming out flirty, but also likes to make cute little clay flowers and brings in something unfairly delicious that his blue-ribbon baker mom made to share at least twice a week, and also is just way too genuine and sincere and open as a person and even more ‘also’ will roll with literally any weird or insane thing that she says and then “yes, and?” her. 

Darcy really, really swears that she did not deliberately hire an intern she wants to fuck. She swears. 

Conner Kent, on the other hand, did not button his button-up all the way today on account of how his pecs are just shy of busting out of it as it is, and she is despairing over all the opinions that her knot has about the sight of both his cleavage and his bare and noticeably unbitten throat. 

Why couldn’t this stupid gorgeous farmboy wear a turtleneck just one day? It’s fall! Fall is perfect turtleneck weather! Or like he could wear one of those heavy cable-knit sweater dresses or something, maybe, and then look like the sexiest thing she’s ever wanted to cuddlefuck, which is not even a word, and oh god why is she like this. Why. Whyyyyy. 

Why. 

She is going to Hell, Darcy is very much certain. Like, whatever circle of it that creeps who wanna fuck their interns go to, that’s gonna be her eternal return address. 

“Shit, lost another stupid button,” Conner grumbles, making a face down at his shirt as he hooks a finger into the collar of it and tugs. “Oh, hey, boss, meant to ask, you want the huckleberry cheesecake or the orange creamsicle cake, or do you just wanna split ‘em?” 

. . . never mind, she’s already in Hell, Darcy notes. 

“Your mom is absolutely terrifying,” she says frankly. “How does any one beta bake this much?” 

“I mean, we kinda do it together, usually,” Conner replies with a shrug, leaning forward across his desk to pop open the same dessert tupperware he always brings and offer her one of the plastic forks inside. Darcy heroically does not check out his cleavage or actively salivate over his naked neck or go absolutely rabid over the knowledge that he apparently also bakes. “Actually I made the creamsicle cake solo, Ma had book club this week.” 

Darcy stares blankly at him, then takes the fork, stabs up a forkful of the orange creamsicle cake, and sticks it in her mouth. 

“Nrgaeggh,” she says. Conner blinks at her, looking puzzled. 

“Did I use too much sugar again?” he asks. 

“Nrgaeggh,” Darcy says, and anyway that’s how she follows another fine “inherited from Jane Foster” tradition and fucks the beefcake alien omega. In her defense, she didn’t really think Conner was an alien until he accidentally made all the lab equipment float when he sat down on her knot, and like what is she, a xenophobe or something? Priorities, dammit. Obviously. 

Though they do admittedly lose some of the glassware because of the weird alien telekinesis, but whatever. Again: priorities. 

Darcy also learns that yes, in fact, Conner Kent is in fact the biggest and most enthusiastic slut that she has ever met in her life, and she is so going to give that fact all the appreciation it so rightly deserves. And him. Also him. Definitely, definitely also him. 

“Damn, I shoulda made that cake weeks ago, boss,” Conner pants as he grins cockily down at her, his face all flushed and smug and his thighs very Thighs(tm) and his stupid button-up shirt even less buttoned-up than before. Darcy is starting to suspect that Conner might actually be buying his shirts a size small on purpose. Like, that is definitely a thing that she is starting to suspect about him. 

Well, then it’s probably really tight on him, isn’t it, and she should help him out of it. 

Like she said: priorities. 

[glitchgw2]

OC deput post!

Meet Autopsist Luccem (Lucc for short)

An Inquest "scientist" who's tasked to perform autopsies on deceased fellow Inquest members, experiments (asura only), or asura brought to him from elsewhere by the Inquest to determine their cause of death or...just because! They don't even need to be dead; but if they get in Lucc's hands, their demise is guaranteed. Low scum are often sent to him to be dealt with, to get rid of, be tortured, or have their brain removed for proprietary knowledge. He is quite renown for his enthusiasm about his job, and so people hope they never get sent to him for anything.

Some more art:

Some trivia, toyhou.se link and a bonus art piece (cw gore) is below the read more!

QnA!

How did he get into the Inquest?

After one too many arrests, the Inquest felt like a warm welcome, where his genius and love for unethical cadaver handling wasn't to be punished.

Can he use magic? Does he fight?

He's rather a science guy. He can name every bone in your body but can't conjure fires or anything. He can use a gun though. And he also has a bonesaw. But still, he prefers to rely on defense golems and security systems. Outsmart your enemies and always be two steps ahead of them, you know.

What does he do in his free time?

He likes to play the latest version of digital ecto-gambling on his datapad.

More trivia:

No one knows for sure where his lab is and one can only guess; any and all entry is only available through asura gates placed in different Inquest headquarters. This is also the method he gets bodies transferred to him.

He refuses to work with other asura. He has assistant golems in his lab (and well, technically krewe) exclusively.

He handles a lot of bodies contaminated with chaos magic, hence his yellow pupils.

He's a fan of my goth asura band, Mortis Twins.

He speaks with a slight French accent for some reason.

Bonus art: (cw gore)

I keep saying to myself he's professional, yet his autopsy table is long overdue a fix/upgrade. 😭

And finally, Toyhou.se link.

(Note: he's an AU for an existing character of mine and both of them have content warnings. I hid some darker things behind the content warning because my OC has everything wrong with him in every universe ever.)

[ultimategenshintournament]

Ultimate Ship Tournament: Round 2

Propaganda below cut

Ayatitto (submitted 3 times):

ok so I'm kinda coming at this from a queerplatonic angle but hear me out. They're Bros. they hang out together regularly and play games. now Ayato is a very busy, stifled, emotionally repressed, and kind of sadistic person. so why on EARTH would be hang out with Itto to just play games? he doesn't even like, torment him or anything. HENCE!! this is where I posit that Ayato ENJOYS spending time with itto because he ENVIES him, he envies how carefree and happy and playful and ignorant he is, he envies how he can just...be. and when Ayato is with Itto, he gets to feel a bit of that too. he's not the head of the kamisato clan, he's not an important figure in the tri-commission, he's just My Bro Ayato. it gives him the relief to just exist. itto on the other hand experiences so many hardships, people harass and attack him just for existing in a way that is obviously queer (in race, in neurotype, in orientation....(though i HC him aroace)). he's relieved just to have a non-child companion who seems to respect him and play with him and hang around him for who he is, not for who the law wants him to be. i posit that, similar to how Ayato feels accepted in a way that lets him shed his family crest and weight of responsibility by Itto, itto feels accepted in a way that lets him wear his horns with pride. because itto's unabashed ADHD and oni heritage and love for his hobbies is exactly what is ATTRACTIVE about him to Ayato in the first place. there are only like 200 fics for these guys on AO3 the last time I checked. i feel so strongly about them. does anyone see my vision. please

i just think their dynamic is neat! rather than balancing each other out, they just feed into each other's personal form of chaos and yknow what. Good For Them

Xiaoven (submitted 3 times):

THE YEARNING. Xiao's true dream is to find freedom but he still feels bound to his contract with Rex Lapis because technically he Did free him from his previous master so therefore his current duties are technically a form of freedom so to look for another form would be a betrayal and then we have the god of freedom who would probably never initiate for fear of issues with consent but probably also just wants to be seen as himself and not just a god and. yeah

It's sunshine x grumpy character I rest my case.

[missing-sector]

I just found out that David X Cohen did a reddit AMA. Link: https://www.reddit.com/r/IAmA/comments/1hgdrt/i_am_david_x_cohen_head_writer_on_futurama_ama/

Ramble under the readmore.

One of the questions asked was if there was an episode he wished he could improve. To my surprise he mentioned “In-a-Gadda-Da-Leela”.

It’s a small thing, but I’m glad one of the writers (in fact, the head writer) is able to look back, spot the issues an episode has and admit to them. Still doesn’t excuse the fact that the episode was written that way in the first place.

But it does help me feel a little better seeing this sort of acknowledgement from someone so pivotal to the show. Gives me a bit more hope about the revival. (Still apprehensive about the episode titled “Zapp gets cancelled” because cancel culture isn’t really something cishet white dudes are good at being normal about. Then again the episode hasn’t even come out yet. Maybe the title is just there to throw everyone off).

[girlthativealwaysbeen]

it's not sinking in that today might be the last day in my house and town for many months to come

[proudfreakmetarusonikku]

to the person who sent the ask- yeah, it’s extremely fucking concerning dream positioned himself as the victim and deflecting by saying “it’s out of context!” and not giving it (which, I’ve watched the streams, they aren’t any different in context, if you meant something different tell us because it looks creepy as shit in context too) when people pointed out he kept making sexual jokes about a sixteen year old after being told to stop. He admitted to regretting the 16 year old is legal comment (which I personally don’t forgive him for because he was still minimising it instead of going “yeah that was fucked I straight up should not have done that and it was my fault.”) so it’s not like he stands by all of them, but the fact he considers Tommy making paedo jokes Because An Adult Is Actively Being Weird To Him worse than him making blatantly sexualised jokes is fucked. I don’t think he’s a nonce I think he’s stupid and arrogant and doubles down on doing awful shit but it’s like. I think Tommy has every right to say whatever he wants about Dream due to that, it’s not suddenly not traumatising because it’s not Meant to be, there’s a reason we have legislation on child stars now. The internet is in it’s like 1930s Hollywood area where you can just do whatever you want and there’s no safeguards, and that’s something that should be spoke up about before we get more Shirley Temples and Judy Garlands.

[sysig]

Anime good :) (Patreon)

[memento-morri-writes]

I've been thinking a lot about how Rook's reunion with his former mentor, Zara, is going to go, and since I can't predict what the DM is going to have her do or say, I can only dwell on what I know is going to happen. Which happens to include taking off the illusion ring that's been hiding his injuries from her. So have a snippet of the description I have planned for that moment:

tw for description of (mostly healed) injuries

He hesitates, twisting a ring on his finger. Looking at it more closely, she can tell it’s very finely crafted, and must have been very expensive. A large emerald is set into the band. Rook sighs, and pulls the ring off his finger in one quick motion.  Immediately she’s struck by the difference in his appearance as the illusion melts away. He looks awful. His warm, healthy skin fades to a dull and sickly grey. There’s huge bags under his deeply sunken eyes, and his cheeks are hollowed, as though they have been carved out by an overeager sculptor. He looks like he’s recently risen from the grave.  While he was thin before, now she can see his ribs under the skin, and his collarbones are exaggeratedly pronounce. Thin white lines left by dozens upon dozens of recently healed cuts are scattered across his body. On top of that, faded bruises cover most of his visible skin, a mottled mosaic of purple and yellow. They’re clearly days, maybe weeks old, and she can only begin to imagine what they must have looked like when fresh. Bandages are barely visible under his shirt, wrapping around his back, hinting at even more injuries.

[get-back-homeward]

Davidwache Police Station | Painting by Klaus Voormann Prior to being deported, Paul McCartney spends a night in the Davidwache police station.

In the meantime, the final four could start playing [at the Top Ten club] now, and move themselves into the bunk-bed accommodation at the top of the building.c Tony Sheridan was already here, possibly others too, and the Beatles were welcome to shoehorn themselves in. It was neither the Ritz nor the pits. John was the first to move. Then Paul and Pete went back to the Bambi to grab their gear.

The place was in near darkness, as usual. They had to strike a match to see their way about … and then they decided to leave Koschmider a little gift. Pete had a few “spunk bags,” and he and Paul had the idea to hang them on nails in the wall in the long concrete passageway and set light to them. “The place was dank and dark,” says Pete. “They spluttered, they stank, and OK, maybe they singed a tiny bit of tapestry on the wall. It caused nothing but a little smoke and a few scorch marks and then they went out.”41 It was the ultimate fuck you, Bruno, or so they thought.

They got to play one night in the Top Ten, and it seems to have been a good one, pulling business away from the Kaiserkeller, but it was just this one night. Having been shafted once by Eckhorn, when he’d prized away the Jets and Tony Sheridan from the Kaiserkeller, Koschmider wasn’t going to sit back and let it happen again. He might also have guessed the Beatles would make some grand gesture for his “benefit”—they could even have hinted of it—because an inspection was made of the Bambi’s rooms very quickly. When the stinkende qualmende Piedeltüten were found, he decided to form the view it was an attempt to burn down his cinema, and informed the police.

The chronology of events over the next twenty-four hours is rife with confusion and contradiction, but may have gone something like this. Paul was picked up by the police while walking along the Reeperbahn, taken by car to the Davidwache police station (two hundred meters from the Top Ten) and locked in a cell. Pete and John were also arrested. Koschmider didn’t know which of them was responsible for the “attempted arson,” so the Polizei rounded them all up. As Stuart wrote in a letter back to Liverpool a few days later:

I am living in the lap of luxury and contentment. Better than the cell I spent a night in last week. I was innocent this time though accused of arson—that is, setting fire to the Kino (cinema) where we sleep. I arrive at the club and am informed that the whole of Hamburg Police are looking for me. The rest of the band are already locked up, so smiling and very brave on the arm of Astrid, I proceed to give myself up. At this time I’m not aware of the charge. All my belongings, including spectacles, are taken away and I’m led to a cell where without food or drink I sat for six hours on a very wooden bench, the door shut very tight. I fall asleep at two in the morning. I signed a confession written in Deutsch that I knew nothing about a fire, and they let me go.42

John was also allowed to go. It was now clear who’d done the dirty deed, and for them the ordeal continued; Paul would always remember the little one-way peephole in the door of their detention room, through which he sensed they were watched. It seems he and Pete were then allowed to leave, but a few hours later—early the following morning—they were dragged out of their Top Ten bunk beds and interviewed a second time. Pete suggests they were taken to Hamburg’s main prison at Fühlsbuttel, Paul remembers it being “the Rathaus … it doesn’t mean rat house, it just felt like one.” They were interviewed by an official of the Bundeskriminalamt (Federal CID), one Herr Gerkins, and it was definitely inadvisable to snigger. Instead, they requested permission to contact the British Embassy, like people did in the films, and were refused; then they were taken for a car ride. “We tried our best to persuade him it was nothing,” Paul says, “and he said, ‘OK fine, well you go with these men.’ And that was the last we knew of it. We just headed out with these couple of coppers. And we were getting a bit ‘Oh dear, this could be the concentration camps’—you never know. It hadn’t been that long [since the war].”43

Criminal charges were not pressed, but Koschmider, inevitably, had the last laugh. It wasn’t a camp to which Paul and Pete were being taken, but the airport—and in handcuffs, according to Stuart. They were being deported, and banned from reentering Germany unless they lodged an appeal within a month. Auf Wiedersehen, Piedels! Handed their passports at the gate, they were put on the London plane, set to fly for the first time in their lives. It then got even tastier for Koschmider because Eckhorn was billed for at least part of the cost of the plane tickets. Bruno must have been rubbing his hands with joy.

—Tune In, Ch. 17 (Oct 1–Dec 31, 1960)

Sources: 41 Author interview, March 7, 1985. Pete says (Beatle!, p72) there were four rubbers and always speaks of them in plural, Paul speaks of one. 42 December 12, 1960, sent to Ken Horton. This letter provides the only suggestion that John was arrested in the roundup; he’s not mentioned in other accounts. 43 Interview by Paul Gambaccini, Rolling Stone, June 12, 1979. Rathaus means “city hall.” Instead of the main prison at Fühlsbuttel, it’s more likely Paul and Pete were taken to the remand prison near St. Pauli called Untersuchungsgefängnis (easier done than said).

[crownrots]