#google search: how to be normal with this kid’s show

[asiuapng]

With Ford being more inclined with the nature of study and discovery, he became the book nerd his father loves. But for Stan, who had nothing to say on his report card, had no choice but to survive the hateful trials his father gave him.

And as their paths diverged, they still try to fit in what they believe who they were. The one with the streets tailed with a record of crimes, and the one with his books under his nose has a demon inside his head. It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

Mistakes were done, but their life wasn’t. They have to live, and for better or worse, time has changed them.

Who would’ve thought knucklehead Stan could repair majority of the portal with only one journal, not knowing half of it was written with invisible ink? And who would’ve thought poindexter Ford could manage to survive this far and in shape, against all the uncertain dangers across multiple dimensions?

To think Stan managed to trick the very demon that haunts their universe with his “good-for-nothing” brain, and for Ford to be the one strong enough to pull the trigger.

Three decades and it has come to this. The man with the plan and his executioner, and the father would never believe who is who.

Who would’ve thought indeed.

[shurisneakers]

unsolved (viii)

Summary: Bucky doesn't even believe in the paranormal. So who the hell thought it was a good idea to stick him in a series about everything haunted for the internet's amusement? With his loose-canon of a teammate who has no concept of subtlety or shits left to give, to make things even worse. (Buzzfeed unsolved AU)

Warnings: swearing, frustrated bucky, obnoxious reader, mentions of hauntings and the paranormal, the passage of time, panicking,

A/N: omg guys new banner reveal. i put a flower on that man because i felt like it. personally thrilled that we have made it this far because that means it's only 2 more chapters to 10 and then we're in double digits. also unsolved drabble requests are very welcome and encouraged please ily THANKS BYE

Previous part || Series masterlist

“I don’t get it,” Bucky says, hands stuffed into his jacket pockets.

Inside the room, the air is thick with dust and the scent of aged metal. The walls are lined with dark wooden beams, their surfaces weathered by time, and the faint smell of oil and rust lingers in the air. 

“It’s a haunted clock tower,” you reply, walking up the stairs, floorboards creaking generously under you. 

“I got that,” he retorts, “but what the hell is it supposed to haunt? All the search results were just some kids' show.”

In the center of the room stands the massive, intricate clock mechanism, the gears and cogs slowly gathering rust as the years have passed without maintenance. Moonlight through the giant clock face casts a faint glow into the dimly lit room.

“I’m surprised you checked the internet,” you tell him, “I didn’t know you knew how to do that.”

He rolls his eyes. “I was an undercover agent for 80 years. I know how to use technology.”

“You’re also older than the concept of time, so you can see how that may confuse some people,” you reply, taking a tour around the room. “Second, I’m surprised you checked the internet.”

“You already said that.”

You stop in your tracks, hand on your chest as you say, “Yes, but you’re researching things now? For our show? That’s real sweet, babygirl.”

He scoffs, shaking his head as he continues to climb up. “It was one Google search.”

“It’s one more than what you’ve done in the last 3 months,” you say, eyelashes fluttering comically at him before your demeanor returns to normal. “Anyway, there’s no like, ghost sightings here, per se–”

Bucky comes to a halt only two steps away from his door. “Then why are we here?” 

“It’s still haunted, Bucky,” you chastise. “That doesn’t always mean ghosts. Maybe it could mean orbs. Or shadow people, like from the hospital–”

“Not a thing.”

The clock creaked and groaned, the hands inching forward, their motion sluggish and uneven, as if the gears hadn't been properly oiled in years. With every tick, a loud whine echoed through the tower, vibrating the air in the otherwise silent room.

“Ooh, maybe we’ll find our doppelgangers.” Your eyes shine. “What would you do with yours?”

“Nothing.” Steve met another version of himself once and immediately beat the shit out of it, if that was anything to go by.   

“Not even a date?”

His eyebrows knit together, eyes creasing. “Why would I date my doppelganger?”

“Who’s gonna know you better than yourself? But the more important question is, would you fu–”

The noise from the clock grows more intense—a final, desperate groan before it comes to a jarring halt. 

The ticking stops abruptly, leaving an unnatural silence hanging in the air. The hands remain frozen at 9. 

Both of you are left staring at a now defunct clock. 

“Clock died ‘cause of your stupid question,” Bucky comments, voice dry. 

“Just say you don’t like modern philosophy and go.” 

“Oh I’m going alright. Two hours and all we’ve gotten footage of is stairs, trash and a washout Big Ben.”

“Don’t insult Kinley Clock Tower like that,” you scold. “You’re gonna piss it off and it’s gonna haunt us for the rest of our days.”

Bucky gives you a flat look. “By doing what.”

“Showing you the wrong time wherever you go.”

“Devastating,” Bucky responds, not sounding fazed in the slightest. “Right, so nothing haunted here?”

“Maybe it’s haunted by the failure of proper clock maintenance.”

Bucky’s eyes sweep across the largely empty room one last time. “Other than that toolbox, place’s empty. Chalk this one up to bullshit and let’s go.”

You let out a deep sigh at the thought of a wasted evening. “Fine, but that means we have to find another idea for a video.”

“Use one of the reserves.”

“We’re gonna have to, if we can’t find anything by tomorrow.”

Bucky’s heavy footsteps echo through the staircase. “That is a problem for tomorrow-you to deal with.”

You let out a scoff, following behind. “Tomorrow-us.”

“No,” he replies thoughtfully. “Pretty sure I got it right.”

Whatever. You counted tonight as a win the second you managed to get Bucky out of the compound without having to lie out of your ass. He even threw in a Google search worth of research. And he even told you the batteries on the cameras were all charged. Small steps for a regular co-host, big step for Buckykind everywhere. 

The elevator stops at his floor and he gets out, sending you a two finger wave on his way out. 

Should I walk you to your door?” you throw in at the last minute, the makings of a smile on your face. 

Bucky casts you an indignant look. “Why?”

“Chivalry, baby.” You grin, leaning against the wall of the elevator. “Didn't they literally invent it in your era?”

Bucky flips you the finger instead, not bothering to dignify you with a response. Your laughter subsides as the elevator closes on you with a ding.

Bucky sees a faint light in the hallway, and figures Steve’s slightly ajar door is its source. In between trudging back to his bedroom, he drops a quick knock on it.

“Come in,” Steve calls, voice deep from the sleepiness starting to set in. “Oh, you’re back.”

“Yeah,” Bucky replies from the doorway. “Shoot got done early.”

“Where’d you go?” he asks, laying down his book beside him. 

“Kinley Tower,” Buck stands with his arms pulled over his chest, leaning against the doorway. “Place was a dud. Nothing to see.”

“What about other things?” Steve asks, curious but still casually indirect. “How was it?” 

Bucky shrugs. “The same. Bounced right back, like nothing ever happened.” 

“You still don’t know what Nat was talking about?” 

“No,” Bucky replies, scratching the back of his neck, before hesitantly saying, “Should I be asking? I don’t know if we’re— y’know.”

“I’m pretty sure you’re friends by now, Buck.” Steve smiles briefly. “Wouldn’t hurt to check in.”

Well, Steve may be sure, but Bucky wasn’t. Then again Steve only had 1 best friend for over a hundred years until he met Sam, so how the fuck would he know. 

Still, Bucky gives a curt nod, glancing around Steve’s room for any notable changed but coming up empty handed. 

“You wanna tell me why there’s several charges on my card for tarot websites?” Steve picks up his book again, thumbing through the pages.

“Wasn’t me,” Bucky grunts. 

“Seems a bit suspect after you did an episode on witchcraft,” Steve speaks without lifting an eye from his book. “Could just be me though.”

It catches him by surprise. “You watch our episodes?”

Steve quirks an eyebrow. “Yes? Every last one.”

“Oh,” Bucky mumbles, finding everything else in the room infinitely more interesting all of a sudden. 

“Looks like it’s doing you some good,” Steve continues, turning back to his novel. “It’s nice to see you out and about.”

“What’s that s’pposed to mean?” Bucky gives him a look that could be seen as peeved if the blond hadn’t known him for as long has he had been alive.

Steve hides a smile. “Nothing. Left some apples on your nightstand. Eat it if you’re hungry.”

It forces Bucky to try to catch onto Steve's train of thought. Sure you hung out occasionally after work, but it wasn’t like you were hanging out on a friends basis. Bucky definitely would know if you were, because it would be a laborious task to even get him to consider leaving his bedroom. A thousand elephants would not be able to make him go do things that friends do. 

So he stares at him for another whole minute waiting for a follow up, a clarification, but Steve makes no other comment, only turning the page of his novel. 

Bucky finally leaves silently, shutting the door behind him.

Sure enough, there are apples and a fork on his nightstand. They were good too, crisp like Steve had gotten them from the market just today.  

By eleven Bucky’s already in bed, eyes straining as he watches this woodworking guy on YouTube teach him how to make a dovetailed box. For no reason. And just because he heard Sam mention offhand that he needed a place for all his keys doesn’t mean Bucky was making it for him.  

From: co-host 

how about we take a road trip down to washington to go meet my dear friend

From: co-host 

From: bucky (avengers) (guy with the hair)

what friend

mr quatch himself

From: co-host  

first name ‘sas’

From: co-host

i’m talking about bigfoot

From: bucky (avengers) (guy with the hair)

yeah i got it 

From: bucky (avengers) (guy with the hair)

when 

From: co-host

well we’d have to start at 4am

From: bucky (avengers) (guy with the hair)

fuck no

From: bucky (avengers) (guy with the hair)how about something within a 5 mile radius 

From: co-host

How about Sunday 

Bucky switches his phone all the way off and tosses it onto the bed beside him, smothering his face into the pillow. 

​​From: co-host

How about your mom

He’d deal with your nonsense tomorrow. 

And probably fill the gas tank for a trip to Washington. 

Bucky’s eyes snap open when the cold air hits his face. He keeps his window shut all the way,every single night. 

He blinks several times before his eyes adjust to the darkness of his surroundings. 

“Bucky?” a disembodied voice comes from beside him.

His head whips to the side, making him realise that one, he was standing, and two, he had no idea how long he’d been standing for. 

Only, he finds you next to him, looking disoriented like you’d just been shaken awake from a nap.

“Where the hell–” your voice trails off as you take note of where you’d landed up. 

In front of him, mechanical gears whine as they scrape against each other in a desperate attempt to move.

He peers down at his clothes; the same black t-shirt, jacket and cargo pants he distinctly remembers changed out of nearly an hour ago. 

“What the fuck,” Bucky snaps. “Did you bring us back here?”

“No,” you say, face rigid, solemn. “I swear I didn’t. I was gonna ask you the same thing.”

Bucky’s shoulders loosen. “No, I was asleep.”

The wind rustles by, and everything looks exactly the same as when you left it nearly 3 hours ago. 

“We’re back at Kinley,” he tests it, taking a step forward. “What just happened?”

“This is weird, right?” you put forth, clearing your throat. “I definitely was going to send you a text about the next video idea, and the next thing I know you’re in front of me. I’m not dreaming, am I?”

Bucky pinches the inside of his arm. The skin comes back red and stinging.

“No, it’s real,” he murmurs. “Unless this is a weird fuckin’ dream that I’m having.”

It wouldn’t be the first time you showed up in his dreams either. He just doesn’t remember any of them being so… vivid. 

“I’m in the physical realm, I can feel that,” you talk so quietly it’s like you’re speaking to yourself. “It’s not your dream. I’m here too.”

He checks his phone. 

9:05. 

Bucky opens up his messages, finding none from you tonight. His YouTube history similarly didn’t have the video he was watching earlier today.

Bucky clenches his fists and releases them, before taking a deep inhale. “Okay. We just had a strange fuckin’ flash forward into the future because of… I don’t know what. But we never left, and now we’re going home.”

“Yep.” You nod in confirmation, but the camera levitating behind you wobbles with uncertainty. “So– do we recreate what happened or…?”

“No, let's just leave,” Bucky debates, running a hand through his hair. 

You take a step towards the stairs, holding onto the bannister as you make your way down. 

Bucky holds up the flashlight of his phone as he follows, throwing another look behind him. 

“Having a shared flashforward… could say it’s soulmate shit,” you give him a quick glance, but the grin on your face is unsure, and he knows you’re trying to shake it off. 

“It’s a carbon monoxide shit.” 

“You can be carbon mine-oxide.” 

Bucky wordlessly shoves past you as he walks down the stairs, leaving you to follow with another stupid laugh. 

The car ride back brings with it some air of normalcy, so does the elevator ride. 

Bucky once again gives you a two finger wave as he gets down at his floor. 

“Offer’s still there if you want me to walk you to your room,” you call. “I may be delirious, but I’m still chivalrous.”

“Go to sleep,” Bucky carps, shaking his head, banishing the slight lift in the corner of his mouth. 

The faint light in the hallway makes him falter. 

He sticks his head in anyway. “Hey.”

“Oh, hey,” Steve smiles from his bed, book in hand. “You’re back.”

Bucky glances around the room. “Did we talk earlier today?”

“Only when you texted me for my Netflix password.” 

“Nothing after that?” Bucky hesitates from asking him outright.

“No. You okay?” Steve asks, eyebrows furrowing. 

“Just had a weird dream,” Bucky dismisses, forcing his face to relax. “See you around.”

“Left you some apples if you’re hungry,” Steve calls, as Bucky shuts the door.

He crawls back into bed, eyeing the clock suspiciously. 10:30. 

He closes his eyes, wills himself to sleep, knowing that this glitch in the matrix was only temporary and tomorrow, you’d be at his damn door, forcing him to go to Washington with you. 

Bucky’s eyes fly open when a draft of wind blows past his cheek.

“You’re fucking shitting me,” he growls, taking in the stupid tower again. 

“Well, fuck,” you exhale from beside him, in the same clothes from that evening. “I think we’re stuck in a timeloop.”

Of all the things to happen to him. Has he not suffered enough.

“Fine. Alright,” Bucky recalibrates, voice short, running a hand through his hair. “What now? How do we get out?”

“I don’t know, let me just consult with my vast experience in timeloops.”

He throws you a look so dry it would have crops withering. You don’t seem to care at all. 

“If I had to guess from the movies I’ve seen, we either gotta solve a puzzle or one of us has to reach self-actualisation and turn into a good human,” you postulate, arms on your hips as you survey the room. “We both know it’s not me, so is there anything you want to share with the class?”

If your release was contingent on Bucky working through his issues, you’d be here for a century at least.

“We keep coming back here at midnight,” Bucky elects to focus on other things, tilting his head towards the clock. “Is it because we left at 9 instead of 12?”

“Maybe,” you consider it. “We can stick around, I guess.”

It wasn’t a bad place to start. You’d have to trial-and-error your way out of this one. 

“We’ve got…” he pulls his sleeve back to look at his watch “...two hours and fifty five minutes.”

You shrug. “We can check out the rest of the tower to see if we missed anything.”

“Fine,” he relents slowly as if still weighing his options, only to come up with nothing better. 

The next level is at least a few flights of stairs below and if you thought the room with the clock in it was barren, there was nothing here for you except spiders and dust bunnies.   

“Maybe we have to clean it up,” you suggest, nose scrunching. “Maybe the tower’s super mad that everyone’s disrespecting it.”

“That's a stupid reason.”

You spin around, pointing an accusatory finger at him. “Take that back. We just said maybe it doesn't like being disrespected.”

Bucky grumbles a few choice words under his breath, none of which reach your ears. 

There's nothing along the walls of the tower, nor on the ceilings. The intermediary floor and the ground floor come up empty as well. 

By the time you've confirmed that you’ve exhausted all possible leads with nothing to show for it, Bucky’s memorised the layout of the place. 

11:58.

“2 more minutes,” he tells you.

“All right,” you say, rubbing your palms together. “Experiment one. Let's go.”

Bucky keeps his eyes peeled.

11:59.

He doesn't even fucking blink, and neither do you as the seconds count down on his phone. 

12:00. 

He exhales, looking up. 

A cold wind blows past his face. 

When he hastily looks back at his phone, it reads 9pm once more. 

“Damn it,” you curse softly. 

Bucky’s growing anger resonates in a rumble in chest. “What kind of twisted shit is this?”

“It's fine,” you hold your hand up, breathing out. “I have a few more ideas.”

Bucky carelessly gestures for you to go on, and you point at the big clock.

“That thing stopped working at 9,” you hint. “We'll have to fix it. Get it working again and then we go back.”

“You know anything about fixing clocks?”

“I worked at a toy shop near a watchmaker once,” you offer. “That's gotta count for something.”

“What the hell, sure,” Bucky gives up, throwing his arms up. 

He only had experience taking apart the old leather strapped wrist watch his parents got him for his 11th birthday, and Steve’s pocket watch that he inherited from his asshole dad. He’d dismantle it carefully, methodically piece by piece, learning the insides and out of each device, so that if and when they stopped running, he'd know exactly what was wrong just by holding it up to his ear.

That didn't necessarily transfer here, but it couldn't be all that different.

Turns out it's very different and you both had to resort to watching several videos before you even began to attempt to fix it. 

He retreats the toolbox from the corner, grateful that at least you didn't have to waste a good half hour going looking for tools to fix a fuckin’ clock.

“There's no signs of life in the mechanism,” you say, reading from the phone. “So I guess we start with the most basic shit.” 

He only lets out a noise in acknowledgement, before you both spend time dusting away at gears and checking for broken parts. When nothing seems bent or misaligned, you move onto the next step. 

And that's when the fun actually starts. 

“That’s not how you oil a gear.”

“Sure it fuckin’ is,” Bucky comments, careful making sure the grease reaches every nook and cranny.

“You’re doing it wrong.” 

Bucky doesn't take his eyes off the machine, and instead raises his left hand up, clenching it into fist and releasing it, leaving the soft shifting of all the plates to prove his point. 

You scoff. “What, just ‘cause you have a metal arm you're the world’s leading expert in oiling mechanics?”

“It means I’ve got some experience in taking care of them.” 

“I’ve seen you put that thing in the dishwasher, don’t even try with me,” you warn. 

Busted. He usually got away with lying flagrantly about his arm, but apparently you pay attention to him and the fact that the Wakandan tech only required a wipedown every once and a while. 

“I do woodwork, I know how to oil things,” he switches seamlessly over to the next lie. 

The tools rarely needed any maintenance and he really didn't have to do much with them yet, considering how high quality they were. But he has an idea of what he could be doing, and that's what counts. 

You narrow your eyes at him. “How come you’ve never made anything for me?”

“I don’t like you.” 

“That’s not what I asked.”

Bucky continues squeezing oil into axles without sparing you a glance. “What do you want?”

“What can you make?”

“Boxes.”

“Make me a box then.”

“No.”

“Bitch.”

Bucky smiles to himself, turning the gears to see them move smoothly.

You dust off cobwebs from the pendulums to get it swinging again, you use your powers to stare at the crank until it rotates on its own to wind up, and to the best of your estimation, make sure the weights are raised to the right heights. 

The whole affair takes nearly 3 hours and towards the end, the both of you are hurriedly rushing through the motions, placing aside the need to argue to just get the damn thing done in time. At some point, telekinesis keeps the pendulum swinging. 

“Did you check everything?”

“Yes.”

“Everything.”

“Yes, Bucky.” you sigh. “All major pieces are working. The clock should move.”

Proof of your word, the clock starts ticking again. It goes from 9:00 to 9:05 without any hitches, and then continues on without interference. 

“Hell yeah,” you cheer and Bucky heaves a sigh of relief.

“Come on,” he urges under his breath, checking his phone again.

2 minutes to go.

“I love the passage of time,” you state unnaturally loudly. “I've never been more grateful for the passage of time.”

“Don't jinx this.”

1 more minute.

“That's not jinxing, it's good lu-”

Bucky feels a cold breeze swipe across his cheek. 

He inhales sharply. 

“Fuck.” Your stomach drops to the ground. 

In the blink of an eye, everything you'd managed to get done in the last 3 hours had gone right back to the way it had been. Dusty, unmoving and dull. 

Bucky robotically checks the time on his phone. 

9pm.

His fingers rub his temples. “What's the next plan?”

“We must have not done it right,” you reason quietly, taking a step towards it. “Something's wrong.”

“The thing was moving, I think we got it,” Bucky sighs irritatedly. 

“Well, we gotta try again,” you turn to him sharply. “You don't have to be here but I'm gonna do it.”

Bucky raises both his eyebrows at you, and you stare back with equal determination. 

“Fine,” he forgoes. “I'll look downstairs.”

It takes less time this time around. It gives you half an hour to check if it is moving again, and you watch the hands move from 9 to 9:05 to 9:20 with no problem.

Meanwhile, Bucky spends his time turning the intermediate room inside out in search for other clues. 

When he finds nothing there, he trudges back to the clock, finding you fingers crossed but confident that you'd done it.

“This is it, baby,” you say, bouncing on the balls of your feet. “We're getting out of this.”

“Here's to hoping,” he says in a tone that lets you know he isn’t convinced, watching his timer countdown from 30 seconds.

“No hoping. There's nothing to do. We're leaving,” you declare. “I've never seen a clock work more beautifully in my life.” 

Three.

Two.

One.

Bucky holds his breath. 

And a wind blows past his face.

The machine resets to the way it was. 

“All fuckin’ right,” Bucky mumbles, expiring a breath deeply. 

“It's fine,” you say, forcing a smile. “I've got a few more ideas.”

Cleaning the floors doesn't work. 

Reading up about the clock tower in  detail and honouring its legacy in an earnest ceremony doesn't work. 

Fixing it for a third time doesn't work either.

“I'm takin’ a nap,” he informs, back against the wall. “I'll deal with this shit again when I wake up.”

“How can you even think about sleeping right now?” you ask, using your powers to pull the damn clock out of the wall. It changes nothing.

“I've thought about sleeping through much worse,” he grumbles, eyes closed. 

“I'm beginning to think you have an iron deficiency.”

“Literally a supersoldier.”

“Vitamin D deficiency,” you revise. “Can you step into the sun or do you just like, start hissing and burning?”

“We’ve never gonna find out, ‘cause we’re never making it out of tonight,” he hums, eyes closed. 

You go still, clock hovering mid air. 

“You don't think we're getting out?”

“I think we're fucked,” Bucky mumbles, yawning as he makes himself as comfortable as old wooden floors would allow him to be. “Y’told me yourself, we tried all the big plans. There's no puzzle. We're trapped.”

The clock lands on the ground with a heavy thud. 

“Careful,” he warns, wondering how cozy the floor would be if he just slid down and laid there. “Wouldn't wanna break the fuckin’ thing that put us in this mess to begin with.”

“Fuck,” you breathe out. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

Bucky opens one eye to peer at you. “What?”

“What do you think, Bucky?” you fire back. “We’re stuck in a timeloop for eternity because we’ve tried the most obvious options and we’re still here.”

“Could be a lot cleaner, but this ain’t the worst place to get stuck for the rest of your life,” he tempts, arms crossed behind his head, feeling a dull strain in his neck. 

“We’re gonna be stuck here forever,” you say, dawning horror in your inflection. “I’m gonna be stuck with you for the rest of eternity.”

“So much for chivalry,” he says wryly.

“We need a new plan,” you digress hectically from the other side of the room. 

“Here's one. I get some sleep, order some pizza in the next loop or two and–”

“No.”

“Fine, Thai works too. Whatever. Then we-”

“You don’t get it,” you snap abruptly. “Jesus Christ, this is literally my worst fucking nightmare. Either help or leave.”

He pries both eyes open at the sudden shift in your tone. He’s used to you snapping at him for his bullshit, and the favour was usually reciprocated, but not like this.  

Your back is turned to him, but he can tell you’re breathing heavily as you check out the new gap you've created in the wall where the clock was, before turning around and lifting the entire machine in the center of the room. 

“Hey,” he calls, voice gruff, slowly pushing himself off the floor. 

You throw him a look, continuing to move pieces of newspaper and tools and check under it. 

He watches you curse under your breath, lifting things too high and dropping them down a little too hard without flinching even once. 

“Look,” he tries again, a little louder. 

You flip the machine upside down, fully intending on taking it apart and putting it back together as if it was going to make a big difference.

“Grab the wrench. Or don't, I don't give a–”

Bucky grips your shoulder with a call of your name. It’s enough to get you to pause from sheer surprise at how close he suddenly positioned himself, considering it was a well known fact that Bucky hated people in his space. 

“Listen to me. We’re going to get out of here,” he instructs, voice much more muted than you were used to. “But you have to calm down.”

You take in a deep breath, before it leaves in a shaky exhale. Whatever you’ve got levitating gently drops onto the ground.

“You’re panicking. I would be too if I wasn’t dead inside,” he notes, hands still on your shoulder firmly. “Do whatever you need to to get it out of your system. It’ll be easier to focus after that. We'll be out of here soon enough.”

“You seem awfully sure.” Your mouth curls into a half smile, but it drops as quickly as it came up. 

“We’ll figure something out.” His shoulders rise and fall. “Got all the time in the world.”

You swallow the thickness in your throat, giving him a small nod.

“‘M sorry,” he says, eyes intense, and you know he’s talking about the nonchalance he showed earlier. “I was bein’ a prick.” 

“Honestly, you being a prick is, like, the most normal part about this.”

“...thanks.” 

“It’s fine, I could use some normal.” You brush it off with a slight smile. “You’re right. We should get some food. I’m hungry.”

“Alright,” he says, eyeing your features for a second more. “But you’re buying. Payback for making me clean up every floor twice.”

“Prick.”

His conversation with Steve from earlier that night comes back to him, the same time you take another breath to shake off the antsiness. 

Bucky lifts a eyebrow to look more natural. “You still sure it’s me who needs self-actualisation? ‘Cause it sure seems that you’ve got a whole lot to talk about.”

You half-scoff, half-laugh. “Is that your way of saying I’ve got issues?”

“Just using your words.”

You watch him for a second, like you’re thinking about saying something. He tilts his head at how contemplative you look, only for you to open your mouth and ask,

“Say, do you think emotional baggage is hot?” you wiggle your brows. “‘Cause if you do, I’ve got a whole lot of it.”

He groans out loud, neck craning as his head drops back. 

“Also,” you pose a bit more curiously, “you gonna let go of me any time soon or are we about to slow dance?”

Bucky’s hands immediately drop from your shoulder, taking a step back. “Fuck off.”

“I could, but I’d just respawn here in three hours.”

He rolls his eyes, but he can’t help but feel a bit relieved that you looked a lot less in distress. 

You'd spent two loops doing a deep dive into timeloops, coming up with more possibilities to try out.

Leaving the building at each hour did nothing. 

You spent 1 loop eating dinner and reaching out to scientists you knew on how to break out. Those who replied either said they weren't real, told you stuff you'd already figured out, or blocked you.

You even spent half a loop painstakingly combing through footage from earlier in the night to figure out if you'd fucked with anything by mistake that you were yet to correct, not noticing it so far because it had been so minor or mundane. 

“Oh shit, I just noticed something,” you gape, pointing at the screen

Bucky pulls the little monitor closer to his face. “What?”

“You’re looking at me so much in these,” you remark, voice relaxing immediately. “What's up with that?” 

“Maybe because you’re the only one talking,” Bucky fires back, irritatedly putting the camera back down, “and it’s not like there’s anything else to look at here.”

“So defensive,” you comment. “Just say you think I’m cute and move on.”

“Shut up.”

“Shut me up yourself, coward.”

To be clear, Bucky didn't realise he was looking at you that much. And now that you’ve pointed it out, he can’t really argue because he is doing it a lot more than he realised he was, even unconsciously sometimes. 

“How many more timeloops till you run out of these lines?” he questions instead.

“How many more timeloops till you stop being a handsome son of a bitch?”

The clock tower may be cold, but he feels too warm all of a sudden. 

“I swear, if this doesn’t work, I’m throwing the clock out the window,” you say, powers forcing the hands to speed through every hour and second at 2x speed. 

Bucky doesn’t even look up at you from over his phone. “You throw it, you’re fixing it again.”

You stop trying to spin the hands when one of them creaks. 

A few loops in and the growing frustration from the both of you manifests into tension that is palpable. 

You'd spent a loop or two outside the tower so you didn't drive yourself insane. Without fail, you'd end up right back up watching the clock every single time the world outside struck 12.

Bucky’s done his fair share of attempts. Jacket on, jacket off. Holding the camera, being the one who led into the room, the one who led out. 

Mainstream movies, obscure movies, video essays, podcasts. 

“I don’t fuckin’ get it. What are we missing?” you pour over the options again, frustrated. “We’ve done everything. We’ve done combinations of things.”

“There’s something we’re missing,” he says, staring at the moon through the face. “Some detail.” 

It's not like you can physically keep track of every variable. Everything resets the second it strikes 12, no matter what you changed. 

“I think–” 

He sends you a glance.

“Maybe if we–” you try before you stop altogether.  

Bucky just stays quiet because at this point you've exhausted every option you can think of, to no avail. 

He knows you don't want to say it. 

But it's time you start accepting that you're well and truly stuck. 

“Should write Maya an email,” he tells you. “Tell her we quit.”

You give him a smile, knowing it would never even make its way to her.

Still, you pull out your phone and let Bucky peek over your shoulder as you start typing, helpfully suggesting curses as you went. 

____

You absentmindedly tinker with the machine, able to take it apart, fix it and put it back together by heart and in no time now.

“What was the last mission you guys did?” you inquire, rotating a gear between your fingers. 

“Something small,” Bucky replies, voice steady. “Think it was just a recon in Detroit.”

“Do you miss it?” 

“No,” he says resolutely. “Everyone got tired of them a long time ago, but we stick around, just in case.”

You spare him a glance. “When was the last time you actually relaxed?”

Bucky considers it for a second. “Wakanda. Wasn't exactly a vacation though.” 

“New question. When was the last time you went on vacation?”

He raises an eyebrow, head twisting to look at you. 

You place the gear in its place before picking up the oil dropper. “Don’t answer if you don’t wanna.”

He turns his head back to the ceiling, and all the spider webs lining it. 

“Couple of years before I got drafted, my family took a day trip to Convey Island.” he reveals, voice low. “We were supposed to hit as many rides as we could but my sister was aboslutely fuckin’ taken by this damn steam engine they had running. Everyoe got sick of it after the second time so I stuck around with her. Must’a ridden that thing 5 times before she finally let up.” 

You have half a smile on your face. “Did you like it?”

He can't really remember. He can't even remember if the rest of his family was actually there, or whether it was just him and Steve and Becca, or it was just him and Becca.

“I liked that she liked it,” he decides.

You nod, wiping a gear before putting it back, snickering lightly.  “Was the last vacation you took really in the 1930s?” 

He exhales a laugh. “Steve and I went to the Canyon once. It was near a mission location. He told me I'd been dyin’ to go there as a kid. I don't remember that, but he fuckin’ dragged me there by the collar. Not sure if that really counts– we were both bleeding pretty heavy for it to be a real holiday.”

“Steve would say it counts.”

“Steven’s never taken a vacation in his life.” Bucky snorts. “I don't think he physically knows how to relax.”

“I don't think I've ever seen that man sit still for more than a few minutes.”

“Fuckin' rich coming from you. How many jobs have you had? A million?”

You exhale a laugh. “Something like that.”

You push the pendulum with your finger, watching it swing back and forth. 

“Where’d you stick the longest?” Bucky asks, hands supporting his head as he lies on the ground. 

You take a second to think, picking up a gear you’d already cleaned, wiping it down again.

“When I just got out of Leviathan, I used to wait tables for this elderly lady who ran a bakery. Mrs. Mullens,” you say finally. “She was kinder than anyone else I'd met till then; gave me leftovers that didn’t get sold that day, and enough money to get on my feet. I must've been there, what, a year? Year and a half? I think that’s the longest I’ve stayed.” 

“Why’d you quit?” He does his best to not sound too intrusive. 

“One evening she slipped keys into my pocket and told me I could stay in the room above the cafe if I wanted. Realised I’d been there too long, so I left the state the next morning.”

Bucky’s eye twitches as he turns to look at you. “She gave you a place to stay and you skipped town?”

“Yeah.” You half-shrug. “Staying in a place too long feels– suffocating. I don’t know. Just knew it was time to leave.”

Bucky looks at you strangely, mind inadvertently trying to piece together a bunch of information. 

Working on a hunch, he tests, “You got family out there somewhere?”

“I was literally created in a lab,” you deadpan. “I don’t have a family. Unless you count test tubes.”

“It doesn't have to be mean literally.” He arches an eyebrow. “What about Nat?”

“Nat’s a friend.” you disclose, holding a cog up to check for any stains, “The Avengers aren’t my family the same way they are for you. They’re great, but it’s just another job.”

Oh. 

“Right,” he says, settling back into his position, feeling a frown on his face.

“I haven’t really found what you’re asking me about,” you add, and he knows you're trying to be kind.

He isn't sure what he thought the team was to you. He isn't sure what he feels about the new information either.

“What’s it feel like?”

“What?” he asks distractedly. 

“Having people like that,” you clarify. “Maybe if I know what it feels like I’ll know when it happens.”

You’ve all but asked the most emotionally constipated man on earth what family feels like to him.

So reasonaly, Bucky blanks. 

Literally every single interaction with the dead and the living exits his mind. 

And so he blurts out the first thing that comes to mind, 

“Silent blenders.” 

And then he cringes. 

“Is that the name of a movie or…” you trail off.

“No. They got me blenders that don’t make a sound. It was a nice gift,” he mumbles. 

You wait for him to provide even a little more context. He instead shifts uncomfortably. 

“Okay,” you allow, looking back down. “Silent blenders. Got it.”

Bucky thinks about it for a second more, and his head starts throbbing.

Instead, he dodges. “Guess you’re not gonna stick around for too long then, huh?”   

“Well, yeah,” you answer, like it was the easiest thing in the world.  “I was always going to just bounce after this was done. I thought you knew that.”

“Right,” he repeats. “Where you headed next?”

“Who knows?” you mull over. “I could go anywhere. You got any reccs?”

He doesn’t really have an answer for you. Bucky can’t imagine packing up and leaving again. Living life never knowing when he can finally take a seat. He’s spent so long wrestling with the turbulence of having multiple identities that he clings to what little semblance of stability he can find.

But a tiny voice in the recess of his mind whispers to him that maybe the reason he's stayed at the same place for so long is the same reason you can’t. 

He has a half formed hypothesis. And then soon comes to the conclusion that he really has no business deriving theories about you like that… but he’d be lying if he said he didnt store it in his head for later. 

He also doesn't know why there's a strange churning in his stomach, a deeply uncomfortable feeling that he hasn't really felt in years. It makes him want to get up and leave. 

“Y’know, just ‘cause I’m gonna leave eventually doesn’t mean we’re not friends.” You snap him out of his first great attempt to understand human emotions other than annoyance. 

He hums. “I wouldn't call us that.” 

“You’re right, we’re star crossed lovers.”

“I feel bad for the next person who has to deal with you.”

You laugh, swinging the pendulum into motion and wiping your hands down. 

You’d taken turns sleeping in two of the time loops, keeping watch while the other rested for a while.

Only when you're asleep does Bucky fully comprehend how quiet it is in there. 

The clouds cover the moon. The floorboards don't make much noise even as he walks around.

He's lost track of how many 9pms it's been. 

He doesn't know why it’s lingering in his mind like this. Probably because he had only thought of her a couple of hours ago. 

He knows you suggested it as a joke but he can't help but wonder.

What if it was actually him keeping the both of you here?  

He really thought he'd made amends. He'd been living as peacefully as he was able to. And yeah, he's a dick, but he wasn't outright evil.

Or so he thought.

Maybe he hadn’t repented as hard as he’d needed to. 

“Becks,” he calls quietly. “If you can hear me– I'm sorry.”

No one responds. You don't stir. 

He forces himself to exhale and continue, “I know you'd hate what I turned into, but I'm tryin’ here. I promise.”

He wishes a damn piece of paper would give him a sign on what to do, or at least tell him there was no coming back. That he should probably resign himself to his fate. 

“You should've had someone who coulda shielded you. Given you a chance to be a kid.” He swallows down the stone in his throat. “I know you're mad, Peanut. I'm really fuckin’ sorry. You deserved a whole lot better.” 

And then he waits, and waits some more, ears straining for anything– a giggle, a scrape. He doesn't know what he expected, but he gets nothing. 

Only a draft blows through the window. 

A shiver runs through you, and you curl into yourself, but thankfully you still don't wake. Bucky has no idea how he’d explain this to you anyway. 

Still, he quietly makes his way towards you, shrugging off his jacket and draping it across you carefully, watching as you relax again.

He blows out an exhale, watching the minutes tick by. 

“Do you think we’re gonna get old here or do we reset every time the loop resets?” you ask aloud.

“Our clothes kept regenerating with us, so I guess we keep resetting too.”

You hum. “Damn, we can’t even grow old together.”

Bucky adds nothing, only turning to you with a deadpan expression.

“What?” you ask.

“What?” he counters. “No old person jokes this time?”

“There’s no fun if you're expecting it,” you sigh.

“Incredible,” he replies, monotonous. 

There’s silence. He hears wind rustle through the room. 

You sit up, and he can feel your eyes boring into him. 

“What?” he asks again.

“Does it upset you?” you ask somberly. “When I make those jokes?”

“No,” he replies. “They’re fine.”

“And when I keep using pickup lines on you– does that make you uncomfortable?” you continue, however, much to his surprise. 

He turns to you with his eyebrows lowered. “Since when does that matter?”

“It matters,” you say quietly. “I knew it annoyed you, I didn’t know they made you uncomfortable.” 

He stares at you for a long while, before settling on, “They don’t.”

“Sure?”

“I don’t care.” He looks ahead. “I’ll tell you if they do.” 

“Okay,” you relent. “If you say so.”

He shakes his head, feeling a strange sort of feeling settle in his chest. He can’t say he hates it, but he would rather not deal with it.

“Bein’ in here’s making you weird.”

You narrow your eyes. “The fuck does that mean?”

“You know what it means,” he asserts. 

“I’m being totally normal, you’ve just refused to hang out with me so you wouldn’t know what that is.”

“I see you every week.” 

“For video shoots.”

“We hang out otherwise,” he scoffs, suddenly feeling very offended. “We literally went to the store the other day.”

“To buy batteries,” you emphasize. “For the video shoots.”

“We’ve gone to the park,” he exclaims, sitting up. “And we eat lunch together sometimes. And we watched that stupid fuckin’ movie in theatres at midnight twice because you lied the second time and told me it was another one – what was it called? Metropolis?”

“Megalopolis,” you say, amused at his outburst. 

“That. Garbage fuckshit. And we’ve taken the cat–”

“Alpine.”

“I know her name,” he hisses. “To the vet. And that’s all in the last month.”

“Jeez, you keep a journal every time we hang out? What are you, obsessed with me?” you ask, trying to bite back a shit-eating grin. 

“Point is,” he grits. “We hang out.”

Fuck. Turns out, maybe Steve was right.

“Tomato, tomahto,” you dismiss. “You’re so obsessed with details. You could’ve just said you’re in love with me and moved on instead of bringing out the whole Excel sheet of every minute we spent together.”

“I hate you,” he groans, dropping back down.

You laugh. It makes the corner of his mouth curl up, just a little.  

“What’s the time?” he asks, blowing out an exhale from his nose.

“Like 11:30?,” you sigh.

“That’s all?” He wants to groan again. 

“Does it matter? We’re stuck here forever. We can get more takeout in the next loop.”

“You’re paying.”

“I paid last time, asshole.”

He clicks his tongue on the roof of his mouth. “Tomato, tomahto.” 

“Touché.” 

You spin a gear in the air, waiting for the hour to pass.

It suddenly hits him. Something that you'd shown across episodes of witchcraft and haunted hospitals. 

Something you showed literally three minutes ago. 

If this worked, he’d probably hug you and your stupid, chaos incarnate self.  

“Come on, let’s get this clock fixed,” he grumbles, getting back up on his feet. 

“What?” 

“I think you’re right,” he says, sticking his arm out to help you up. 

“Huh?” you blink at him. “I know the footage is gonna get erased again, but I need you to say that into the camera once for me. And state that you’re of sound mind and body while you’re at it.”

He sends you a look. “Come on.”

“I fixed it already, Bucky.”

“What’s the time?” He ignores you.

“Nearly 12,” you tell him, checking your phone. 

“Need you to be precise.”

“Why?”

“Humour me,” he says calmly. “Details are for losers, remember?”

“11:57 and 32 seconds.”

He manually winds the big arm up, the short hand still following. Until the seconds ticker matches the time you were calling out, down to the last second.

“What are you doing?” you enquire curiously, peeking over his shoulder.

“Making it match real time,” he tells you. “Properly.”

He checkes gears and pushes pendulums and everything works like it’s brand new. You’d gotten real good at this. 

“11:59 and 43 seconds,” you call.  

Bucky closes his eyes, forcing his breath to remain steady. It’s the first time that evening he’s had more than a sliver of hope. 

“57 seconds,” you say quietly, voice tired. 

And then there's silence. 

He doesn't have the energy to open his eyes and find the machinery back to scraps. 

But eventually he does. And when he opens it again, you’re still standing there, near the machine. Not the entrance of the room. 

The clock reads 12:02.

He turns to you, calmly saying, “Let’s get out of here.”

The drive back home is silent, apprehensive with tension tight as a stretched rubber band. Like if you breathed too hard, you'd find yourself back in the dark room. 

You step in the elevator together, pressing the buttons for your floor and his. 

He doesn’t know whether it’s the fear or the fact that you've now spent several hours together when time didn’t make sense, but the ride up is slower than usual. 

Bucky stands with his back pressed to the wall of the elevator, eyes closed, hands stuffed in his pockets. 

“It never occured to me,” your voice is quiet. “It’s the one thing I didn’t think of because I was so focused on getting out.”

“Didn't think of it either.” Bucky’s shoulders shrug, eyes closed. “Not your fault.” 

“Kinda is.”

“I would've realised earlier if I paid attention,” he counters. 

You stare at him. 

“Are you done or should I keep going?”

You blow out an exhale. “This game sucks.”

“Don't play this shit with me. It's the one thing I'm good at.”

The elevator dings, creeping open on his floor.

He stays right where, back pressed against the wall, unmoving. 

“It's your floor,” you inform.

“I know.”

The door waits a few seconds before it closes.

It finally reaches your floor, opening with a bright ding. 

He watches you step out, casting an unsure look towards him.

You gesture awkwardly, “Do you need anything?”

“Nah,” he says, eyes still closed. 

“What are– oh,” you stop all of a sudden. “Is this your way of walking me to my door?”

Bucky’s face doesn’t betray any expression. “See you later.”

You fight a smile, raising two fingers to give him a wave. 

He gives you a small nod as the door closes on him, reaching forward to press the button to his floor again.

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[prettytoxicrevolver]

August | Mathew Barzal

wc. 2.7k

"August slipped away into a moment in time, cause it was never mine. "

You had always kept an eye on Mat Barzal’s budding career. 

Growing up with the up and coming hockey player you always knew Mat as the dorky kid in your Algebra class. However, when he was drafted by the New York Islanders in 2015, you couldn’t help the glances towards his career every now and then. Everyone saw him as a hometown super star and you weren’t immune to the affects of celebrities unfortunately. 

You had stayed in your hometown, wanting to help out your parents as they started getting older and you found a teaching job not too far away too. It was the perfect balance and you were happy with your summers off and free time. You subconsciously knew the hockey season had ended in the middle of April overall and when the Islanders were knocked out of playoffs at the end of the month, your mind had wandered to Mat once more, and you couldn’t help the casual google search. 

When you discovered that he had plans to come home from the summer you were intrigued. Why come back to your hometown after traveling all over the United States and having more than enough money to travel all over the world? Of course, you wouldn’t find the answer to that until later. 

You didn’t expect to see Mat around your hometown. It was small but not small enough for you to run into a boy you hadn’t seen in years. You didn’t even expect for him to recognize you and yet you still did it anyway. 

You were driving to the beach, wanting a break from everything and to just sit with the wind blowing through your hair and your book in your hands. It had to be close to midnight and your habit of not being able to sleep was creeping up on you again. You didn’t expect to see anyone else on the road at this point but you could recognize him a million miles away. 

You’re still not sure what prompted it, but you found yourself slowing down on the road. 

“Mat?” you called and watched as he paused in his step and you laid on the breaks in your car till you were at a full stop. 

You watch with curious eyes as Mat walks towards your car before leaning over and peering into your passenger side. When he spots you, a look of recognition and then slight shock washes over him. 

You can’t help the light laugh that washes over you at his shock, a reaction to the absurdness of the Mat Barzal being in your hometown. 

“Oh my god,” you let out quietly and Mat tilts his head at the words. “Get in.” 

You gesture for Mat to hop in your car and you’re surprised even by your own actions. Mat takes it in stride though, climbing into your best up old car and clicking his seatbelt like this whole interaction was completely normal. 

“Let’s drive,” he finally responds and you step on the gas. It’s quiet for a moment as you drive and eventually you turn to look at him. 

“How have you been?” you ask, the question feeling odd but a glance at Mat shows him nodding in response. 

Your original route towards the beach is paused opting to just drive around your small town as you and Mat catch up. You tell him about what you’ve been doing since high school, how college was and how your job now is. He tells you all about the NHL and training and how lucky he has been to play professionally. 

“I’ve kept track of your career,” you mention as nonchalantly as you can afford. 

“Really?” Mat says and he can’t help the jolt of happiness that hits him at your words. 

“Vaguely. You’re supposed to have a 50 goal season this year or something?” you say but there’s a note of teasing in your voice. 

“Something like that,” he grins back at you and that smile has your heart zapped. 

“Shit I’m almost out of gas,” you curse quietly. 

You look over to Mat who offers an almost imperceptible shrug and you nod slightly. You start to head in the direction of your apartment, realizing that it’s almost 2 in the morning. You didn’t even feel the tiredness in your body just yet. 

When you get to your apartment, you tell Mat to keep quiet since your roommate was definitely asleep already. You both sneak in, collapsing onto your bed as Mat shuts the door behind him. He relaxes next to you, continuing the conversation you started in the car. 

Your eyes trail his features as he talks and you’re suddenly struck at how beautiful the man in front of you was. He was damn near a Greek god, chiseled features, bright brown eyes, flowy hair that falls over his eyebrows occasionally. He could have been a model if he wasn’t a hockey player. 

“Can I tell you a secret?” you blurt out, feeling all of 16 again staring at him. 

Mat nods in response and you take a deep breath, leaning closer as your eyes flicker from his to his lips. You try not to over think this, reminding yourself of the unspoken tension surrounding the two of you ever since he got into your car. 

When your lips ghost over his you can’t help the exciting pound of your heartbeat that only goes crazier when Mat pushes forward, truly connecting your lips. Your hand tangle in his hair as he carefully maneuvers you onto your back. His knee is pressed between your legs and his presence is so overwhelming you feel like you can’t breathe. 

He pulls back, granting you much needed air and after placing a few kisses on your exposed neck, he looks you in the eyes again. 

“Are you sure?” he asks breathlessly and you flush under his intense gaze. 

“I’ve never,” you trail off, the implication of your silence saying everything else. Your inexperience rolling off you in waves that Mat takes in strides. 

“But yes,” you tell him nodding and he smiles and meets your lips once more. 

The next morning you’re awoken by movement and a feeling of confusion takes over until you see Mat laying next to you and your cheeks flush at the memories of last night. As your eyes gaze over his features, you’re hit with the question what now? You had never done anything like that before and you gave it to a boy you went to school with and connected again with after one night? What were you thinking? 

Before you can spiral any further, Mat wakes up turning to see you and there’s an unreadable look in his eyes. 

“Good morning,” you whisper and Mat smiles lightly. 

“Morning,” his voice is rough from sleepy and the scratch in his tone sends a shockwave through you. 

“What time is it?” He asks, now sitting up and reaching for his phone. When he checks it, his expression changes quickly to one of frustration. 

“Ah fuck,” he curses and you tilt your head in his direction, a form of a question towards him. 

“I’m supposed to meet my friend for lunch soon,” he explains and you nod. 

Mat gets up and quickly dresses, running his fingers through his hair in a nervous manner before turning to look at you. Before you can process it, he’s pressing a kiss to your lips and whispering a promise that he’ll call you later tonight. 

When your bedroom door clicks shut, it finally occurs to you what happened last night. You slept with someone for the first time ever. Not just anyone either. Mathew Barzal. 

Your mind starts to scramble and before you have a chance to let your anxiety ruin the whole thing, you reach for your phone. You need to call Gianna. 

Gianna was your best friend ever since middle school. Well, at least you thought she was your best friend, but deep down you knew she preferred her friendship with Inez, a girl who lived in New York that you forget about half the time anyway. 

“Why are you calling me before noon?” she asks when the line finally connects. 

“So I met a guy,” you start, unsure of how to segue into one of the biggest moments of your life. 

“Ooh! This has to be good if you’re calling early.” 

“I slept with him last night,” you blurt out suddenly. 

“You what?” 

You explain the whole situation to her, omitting his name, and more so who he was until the end. When you tell her that he just left and promised to call you tonight, you listen intently as she sighs quietly. 

“Gianna?” 

“Yeah?” she asks, still not offering a full reaction. 

“It was Mat Barzal.” 

The bomb drop leaves the two of you in an awkward silence for more than twenty seconds, each one painfully ticking by and making you flinch inwardly. Gianna knew Mat a bit better than you, the two of them were both on sports teams and their friend circles constantly overlapped. You and Gianna however, had become friends in choir class. 

“I heard he was back for the summer,” is all she says in response and your heart clenches at her uncaring tone. 

“G? I really fucking like him and I’m happy,” you tell her, hoping this admission of feelings pulls more of a reaction out. 

“He’s only here for the summer.” 

“It’s different,” you demand, knowing the underlying meaning in her words. “Last night was amazing.” 

You drown out her response, anger clouding your judgment that Gianna couldn’t be happy for you. You had just slept with a guy for the first time and all she can do is imply he doesn’t care about you? That he’ll go home and everything won’t matter anymore? You hang up shortly after, still slightly fuming that your supposed best friend wasn’t being supportive. 

You knew. 

You knew though deep down, no matter the words you spat at Gianna or the delusional thoughts in your head. You knew you and Mat were going to be nothing after this summer. You just really didn’t want to believe it. 

known there was another girl back in New York. You should have known that she was the one he really wanted. The one he’d give it all for. He was never yours. 

Sometimes you really wished you listened to that doubting voice in your head. 

Maybe this wouldn’t hurt so fucking bad now if you did. 

Mat calls that night, tells you about his day and asks about yours. You make plans to go to the beach tomorrow. Your heart feels lighter when you go to sleep that night. By the time morning arrives, you’ve forgotten all your worries already. 

The knock on your door has an unconscious smile creeping up onto your lips and you jog downstairs and swing it open to see Mat. 

He’s leaning against the door frame, soft smile on his lips, arms crossed over a plain t-shirt and a blue open button down. His legs are crossed in a manner that is so effortless you wonder if he’s even a real human. 

“Ready to go?” 

You nod and he pulls you close, slipping an arm around your shoulder as you walk over to his car. Mat drives to the beach, hand on your thigh and an easy smile on his lips. Your heart raced twice as fast whenever he touched you and you couldn’t help but think you’re in love. 

You get to the beach pretty fast, the two of you finding a place to set up and relax for the day. Mat had been in and out of the water while you had relaxed back in your beach chair and read to your heart's content. You couldn’t think of a better day than the one in front of you. 

Mat flops down onto the beach towel next to you, a bright smile lighting up his perfect features. You gaze at him and he throws a wink in your direction and it feels like your body is lit on fire even just by the thought of him staring at you. 

He lays on his stomach, his head rest on his crossed arms and you find yourself dropping a hand to his back and tracing patterns on his bare skin. You’re tracing your name and then his when you finally break the silence. 

“When are you going back?” 

“Couple of weeks,” he answers noncommittally. 

“Do you think-“ you start to say and just when you’re about to push away the rest of the sentence Mat looks at you expectantly. “Will you call when you get back to New York? Keep in touch?” 

Something flickers in Mats eyes at your question, you’re not sure if it’s sadness or frustration or guilt or what. It seems to pass quickly though, a smile plastered on that doesn’t quite reach his eyes is thrown in your direction as he nods. 

“Of course.” 

You end up in Mats bed that night, twisted in bed sheets, laughs soaring in the air and good feelings wrapping you up so tightly you could almost choke on them. By the end of the night you fall asleep with a smile on your lips and Mat’s arms wrapped around you tight. 

The weeks slipped away from you, warm summer months slipping through your fingers until August arrived. Mat was due back to New York any week now and you found yourself begging for his attention. You dropped anything and everything when he called, something Gianna was getting angry about. 

“Hello?” you answer, looking over at Gianna who gives you an annoyed glance. 

“What are you doing right now?” Mat’s voice greets you and you can’t help the smile that slides on your lips at his voice. 

“Not much. Why?” 

“Meet me behind the mall in 20 minutes?” 

“I’ll be there,” you say, a giddy feeling rising in your chest. 

When you hang up, you stand up searching for your shoes, completely forgetting that Gianna was sitting in front of you. 

“Earth to (y/n)?” she asks and you look over with an awkward smile. 

“So that was Mat,” you start and Gianna huffs in frustration as she stands. 

“So you’re canceling plans again?”

“I only have so much time left with him,” you respond, tugging on one of your sneakers. 

“Of course,” she mutters, anger filling the room. 

“What?” you snap, frustrated that Gianna was still giving you shit for going out with Mat. 

“You’re leaving your best friend for some guy who will leave you in a week?” 

“I’m not-“ you start to retort but she cuts you off. 

“He has a fucking girlfriend in New York!! You’re the other woman!” 

The words are a complete and utter blow. The reality hits you full force and forces you to face the thing you never wanted to. That Gianna was right. That this summer was all you were to Mat. A distant memory. More likely, a mistake he made. 

“Whatever,” you mutter, left with nothing but the last word as you storm out of her apartment. 

You meet Mat behind the mall and he’s quick to hop into your car and press a kiss to your cheek. Your previous argument with Gianna is already fading to the back of your mind. 

“What’s wrong?” you ask Mat when you’re sitting next to him on the beach, the sun setting quietly against the crashing waves. 

“I’m going back to New York tomorrow,” he tells you quietly and the shock is plain on your face. 

“They called me to come back early,” he explains and all you can do is nod slowly at the news. 

“Will you stay until the sun sets?” you ask, the words wavering in your throat. 

“Of course,” Mat tells you but the words sound hollow like he’s already thousands of miles away and in a whole different life again. 

Mat had appeared in your small town like a reoccurring dream, lost memory, and perfect fantasy wrapped up in a six foot tall, brown haired, bright eyed hockey player. For a while you questioned so often if he was even real or not. 

And during that time you let yourself be delusional. Let yourself believe all the times he promised he would call when he got back to New York. That the two of you would stay in touch but as you sat on your bed a week later and no calls from Mat you knew what this was all along. 

And it still hurt just as bad. 

[aphroditesswan]

pink dolphin sunset

stoner suna rintarou x latina stoner reader 

warnings : weed usage, mention of lighters and smoke cuz well,, it’s weed. implied underaged smoking also terrible google translate spanish cause i didn’t grow up latin i grew up filipino so i’m a no sabo kid 😭🙏 

notes : book of life ref if u haven’t seen it go see it NOWWWWW. all lowercase is intended btw.

summary : suna had invited you on a date, just to lounge around and smoke in his car late at night and wow, how could you ever possibly refuse that offer?? 

genre : mostly fluff i think 

suna was always plain faced. he always had this look in his eyes that could only be described as empty but not in the sad way, in the way that there simply wasn’t a thought behind those dark, almost beady eyes. 

well, except for when he looked at you. 

the eyes that showed nothing but boredom would suddenly soften at the mention of you, at the sight of you, at hearing your voice or even catching your eyes in a brief meaningless glance across the room. 

you don’t even know how you got here. you’re sitting in the front seat of his car, some tory lanez song playing cause you shuffled his playlist, one he totallyyy didn’t make in advance for when this happened, talking and sharing a bong with a bowl that’s been packed maybe ten times. 

it’s safe to say the both are high and throughly dumbed out. suna’s ignoring the vibrating messages from his pocket, only staring into your eyes as he holds the light to the bowl to light it up for you like any good man would do. you wait, sucking up the smoke once the time comes, throwing your head back to make a couple ‘o’s with the smoke. it’s the best you can do for now, a bit too focused on the lovesick eyes the man in the drivers seat is giving you.

it’s not his fault you’re nothing but perfection in his eyes, he can’t help but admire how nice you look sitting in the passenger seat of his sleek black challenger with the seat of his black fabric on the passenger seat covered with the fluffy thulian pink colored cushion he had bought just for you once you agreed to do this with him. he had been practically waiting, begging any and all gods above for this moment since he heard from your best friend and the annoying atsumu that you smoked. 

he was so focused on your pretty face that he hadn’t noticed you took the lighter from him, taking another hit from the bong while he was distracted. as you went to take yet another hit, he snapped out of his daze and narrowed his eyes at you. 

“aw come on, with all you’re smoking you owe me some weed. plus, it’s not your turn. hand it over, pretty.” 

he held onto the bottom of the bong, smirking a bit as he gentle took it from you, searching the cup holders for the small lighter when he looked up and saw you holding it with your index and middle finger out to him. he snatched it, both of you rolling your eyes at the behavior of the other but really he was soooo entrances with you. he lit the bowl up, sucking up the smoke and inhaling, turning his head to blow it at you who blew straight air back at him and swatted his second hand smoke away. 

“so you can blow all your smoke in my car but when I blow back at you, ‘s a problem?” 

“I never said it was, estúpido. I just don’t want you blowing your dank ass smoke en mi cara.” 

the side of your lips pulled into a small smirk as she leaned sideways toward you, smirking up at you as he tilted his head down. 

“you know… I think ‘s sooooo nice hearin you speak spanish. can’t understand a think y’ say though.” 

you stayed silent as you looked down at him with narrowed eyes, a giddy smile tugging at your lips upon hearing his words. 

“mhm… go on…?” 

“cocky now, are we sweetness? i’d say… you just sound sooo much more… magnetic. don’t get me wrong, hearing you speak normal is hypnotic in itself but something about the natural you voice when you speak spanish… it’s so much better.” 

“maybe you should learn if you’re so desperate.” 

“will that win you over? or was book of life too much for you to handle still.” 

“He died for her!” 

“n’ came back to life, pretty thing. I can’t do that. trust me, if I could I would for you, doll.” 

“aw how sweet, hand me the bong.” 

He chuckled a bit as he handed the bong back to you, the bowl nearly empty now. he lit it up, and you repeated the motions from earlier, except you blew it in his face this time. 

“wowwww, how mature of you.” 

“why thank you rin, i try.” 

he takes it back from you yet again, setting down the now empty bong in a cup holder. 

“sooo… what’s the plan?” 

“ion know,, what you tryna do?” 

he jokingly moves the drivers seat back, smirking a bit but behind it was a stupid, giddy smile. as he goes to put his hands behind his head, you hit him in the arm to which he breaks his front and laughs out loud, leaning away from you and holding his hit arm. 

“ouch, that hurt you know. maybe you should be on volleyball instead of me, huh sweets?” 

“i swear there’s something so wrong with you. estas absolutamente loco.” 

“not my fault you’re so pretty.” 

he shrugs, putting the seat back into its original position and his hands on the steering wheel as he stared at the small empty gas station a couple yards from the car. you two were parked at the very end of the small parking lot, music blasting and smoke spilling out of the slightly open windows of the small sleek black car. 

maybe dates with the ever so “stoic” suna rintarou weren’t so bad.

FIRST FIC JITTERSSS AAAAA i gen hope you guys like it this is like my first fic in so long that i’m actually proud of and i hope this gets me more confident and helps me write more :DD

[princess-glassred]

Au where Maturin decides to bring Eddie back and let him do over his life, but the butterfly effect causes Richie to marry connor and now HE'S the one in an abusive relationship and Eddie's gotta help him out of it.

Maturin lets Eddie make one wish before he brings him back so Eddie wishes for him to have never met Myra and to break the abuss cycle sooner. He then wakes up on the morning that Mike is supposed to call him, remembering everything that just happened. It worked well, Eddie is single, happier, healthier, and wealthier now. He even ends up google searching Myra's name since, even though she was toxic, he was still married to her for a long time and finds it hard to wish ill will on her. Luckily she also seems to be doing much better, so Eddie doesn't gotta feel too guilty about his wish. It kinda sucks he's gotta fight pennywise again tho, but he knows whats gonna happen now so it should probably be a breeze.

He gets to the chinese restaurant and everything plays out excatly how you'd expect it, none of the losers have been changed at all by Eddies wish for independance. None except for Richie that is. Richie is so strikingly different Eddie doesn't even recognize him at first. He's wearing like... normal office worker clothes? And he looks cleaner and less uhhh haggered? And he even seems a little more quiet than usual. The scene where they talk about marriage goes about the same, except for when Richie says "You didn't know I got married? You seriously didn't know?" It's not a prelude to a joke. Eddie completely expects it to be but it's not, he just pulls out his phone and shows them all a picture of Connor and explains they've been together for a while now and got married in canada.

Eddie's very suspicious of this, and the overwhelming horror he feels when he finds out Richie Tozier isn't even Richie Tozier anymore, he's Richie BOWERS, makes him wanna throw up. It's actually pretty sad, because from context clues he picks up when Richie talks about Connor, he seems super unsupportive and downright mean. Richie's not even a comedian in this timeline, because Connor insisted being a comedian wasn't really viable and STRONGLY suggested Richie do something more useful. This seems to have fundamentally changed Richie's personality to the point he regards all his silly jokes and impressions he used to do as just kid shit that he's grown up past. All the losers finds this sad, especially Bev since she's been in an abusive relationship, but nobody but Eddie knows how to approach him on it.

He tries to help him realize Connor's an abusive spouse because he doesn't support him, and Richie lets it slip that the only reason he started dating Connor was because he was so lonely after the losers started splitting up. He hit total rock bottom, so before he left town he decided to give connor a chance again. And Connor managed to take the already emotionally vulnerable and insecure richie and make him even more insecure with demeaning remarks, nasty comments, and the insistence Richie change everything about himself. He does ultimately realize Connor is just using him, and that their relationship is woefully unhealthy, and it's all through Eddie reminding him of what actual love feels like.

Unfortunately this doesn't end well for either of them, because bizzarely, because now that Eddie knows to dodge pennywise and avoid getting stabbed in the stomach, some one else has to die. He realizes it's going to be Richie, but he feels that's unfair because he just finally understood how awful Connor is, he deserves to live to see a day where he's not tied down to him anymore. Eddie got to enjoy two days, knowing he wasn't burdened by his mother or Myra anymore, and that's good enough. Richie deserves that too. So he pushes him out of the way at the last second and winds up dead again. The i fucked your mom exchange is a lot more sad now though, because Richie hadn't even made a joke like that in years.

The fuckin turtle is shocked to see Eddie back, but he thinks his self sacrifice was very kind of him to do. It was so kind he decides to give Eddie ANOTHER chance, but he turns down the offer since he figured he screwed up richies life with his last wish, and he isn't too in the mood for fighting pennywise again. Maturin clarifies though that there won't be any tricks or loopholes or anything. They can just "skip right to the happy ending". So Eddie says all he really wants anymore is for he and Richie be together in the end.

He winds up outside the decaying neibolt street, being hugged by Richie. Richie is overjoyed to see Eddie survived the pennywise attack, and Eddie's just happy to see Richie back to his usual old annoying self. Then they all go to the quarry together, and Eddie and Rich smooch like Bev and Ben. Happy ending. :>

[butch-bakugo]

Proshippers: omg why can't antis just leave us alone! 🙄 Don't like don't read! Cultivate your online experience!

Antis: ok. * Mass blocks you* *puts you on our DNIs * * Ignores you*

Proshippers: Wait no! I sustain myself on complaining about you! My identity is only based on how " weird" I am! You guys aren't even complaining about me making graphics harassing you guys telling you your assault was actually your fault! How can I complain about harassment and bullying when you guys don't harass or bully me! You won't even respond when I screenshot your posts and laugh at you? When I complain about the concepts of a dni because most exclude me?? Don't you get it! We're the real victims! Somehow your a puritan and a bigot and a Christian for not liking my art of two siblings fucking each other and drawing porn of an underage live action character using the likeness of the child actor who played them! Don't you understand?

I only exist as counter culture and you guys have to keep up our fight! If you disappear I'm just a sad weirdo! You can't just block me out and ignore me like I've been asking you to! Hello??? I only exist on twitter, Tumblr and Ao3 where my creepy rape mindset is normalized by other Nazis and Openly pedofil-i mean radqueers and paraphiles! If you guys let me fall into obscurity than how can I sustain myself! How will I exist in my mind as a cool nerd who fights censorship if you guys don't censor me and just let my art fail with zero engagement??

What do you mean I spend more time drawing porn of kids and defending my right to do so on the internet than actually getting the therapy I need to stop drawing sim cp period? What do you mean therapists in mass discourage fictional cp cause it often leads to offending and there's tons of documents and resources proving that available with a simple google search?? What do you mean my art isnt coping because its used to groom others and continue the cycle of violence because I make no attempt at hiding my art or content from children period but especially those in broken homes who assume its ok because my content aligns with their real abusive experiences?? What do you mean I became the villian and creep who caused me real harm and 32 year old women thirsting after teenage boys on the Internet are not the revered fandom elders i was told i should become? What do you mean I'm the type of fan no one likes and constantly has to bring up so other's know they arnt like me? What do you mean we've fostered a community that actively harms victims of abuse and children en masse and normalized it so much I'm completely tone deaf by sending traumatizing incest fanfiction to my friends? Arnt they the real abusers by not letting me retrumatize them over and over again and claim their silencing me because I cant send links to rape porn in their discord server??

What do you mean I can't compare my fetishization of sex crimes to fans of horror movies cause it's a false equivalency and only my contribution is condoning the violence by painting it as sexy and desirable and my tiny disclaimer at the bottom basically means nothing when everything else I say isnt aligned with it?? What do you mean I show my true colors when I'm faced with the reality the only people who benefit from my fictional cp are pedophiles?? What do you mean rape victims don't like it when I portray rape as some sexy coercion and I know I'm wrong simply by the fact I try to hide the real word for what I'm writing/drawling under inconspicuous shit I made up like non-con and dub-con??

I'm supposed to be the victim, not you!! I'm the real victim! Your a bully for ignoring me and blocking me! This is clearly harassment! You clearly hate gay people because you don't like my gay pedo incest art with no actual sensitivity and I exclusively made it to jerk off to and not catch a felony or address my own rotting morality by justifying my wank to child porn drawn in an anime art style because they are fictional and not real! I know I recently identified also as a paraphile and a ficto-zoonecrosomnopedo but not everyone who likes my realistic porn of animals and children also clearly have my mental illnesses that are going completely unchecked! I'm the victim in all this, don't you know! I'm the victim!!!

[hellsite-detective]

can u help mr find that post about how op hates edgy kids show theories and then does the opposite by making childish theories on darker adult shows?

It has the user lokiloo (but they might've changed their username since then) and it goes like

"I hate hate HATE all those 2edgy 4me theories about kids shows. Like Angelica dreaming up the Rugrats, or the ed, edd, and Eddy children being ghosts, or literally anything that takes a lighthearted and fun kids show and has to turn it into some tragic take of murder or misinformed mental illness.

So you know what? From now on I'm gonna do the exact opposite. Every cool grim-dark show is now because of a bunch of children" and then writess some dnd-related game of thrones theory

I found it in a YouTube video and want to read some of the reblogs to see what others have added on

thanks :D

this is a phenomenon i'm all too familiar with. bein' a fan of Adventure Time, i've obviously seen the classic "Finn in a coma" art. but this is a unique twist on the edgy theory that i can get behind. i went down to the Search Bar to ask Google for the first sentence in the quote my client gave me, and they handed me the link instantly. i was about to grab it when the roof of the Search Bar was burned away, revealin' a massive dragon flyin' overhead. luckily, i had my trusty magnifyin' glass that turns into a magical sword! usin' my sword i flew up to the dragon to face him down. to my surprise, the dragon spoke...

"Drem yol lok, Dovahkiin. Hin pahlok fen kos hin vo."

"it is you who will be undone, beast! you slew my family all those years ago! prepare to be vanquished!"

"Grik kah fah aan joor. Dovahkiin, hi fen wake up."

the last two words the dragon spoke weren't in his tongue, but instead in English. to my shock, the dragon continued to speak, repeating the same phrase, in English, over and over again.

...you must wake up...

...you must wake up...

...wake up...

"Wake up!"

i shot awake. i was sittin' at the Search Bar in front of the Don. huh, was it... all a dream? i shook my head and grabbed the post he laid in front of me. i then went and filed it away...

here you are! sorry about fallin' asleep, that doesn't normally happen. but either way, here's your post!

Post Case: Closed

[f0reversharky]

Favorite singer died ~ Chunkz

This is gonna be about Liam Payne, since i have been a fan of one direction since i was young and hearing this news has been making me feel devastaded my prayers go out to his friends and family forever missed and loved <3

>>>>>

| Pairing: Chunkz x reader (reader named Isabella)

| Summary: Chunkz found out Isabella her favorite celebirty died and is trying to figure out how to tell her so he asked help from his friend

| Warnings: Swearing,Crying,Death

>>>>>

"Oi chunkz you know one direction right" Aj said as he was scrolling on his phone while laying on the couch in Chunkz his house with the rest of the Beta squad members

chunkz hummed as he spoke up "yea Isabella's obsessed with them why" Aj got up and walked to where Chunkz was sitting as he showed him the news "Liam Payne died today"

"Allah for real" chunkz said as he read the news and gasped slightly "Isa is gonna be heart broken" Chunkz said as he stared up at aj in shock

"wait he died?" Niko said in confusing as he began searching up Liam Payne on google and so did the other members "you think Isa knows?" sharky spoke up as he looked at Chunkz "nah i dont think so otherwise we would hear her scream right now" chunkz said as the others aggreed

"so whos gonna tell her?" Kenny said as he looked around the room adn everyone his gaze fell on chunkz

"we should tell her together" chunkz said as aj agreed, then Isabella was heard walking down the stairs as everyone acted normally "Babe?" Isabella called out confused as she was alone in the kitchen

"in the living room" Chunkz called out as Isa walked in the living room "oh hey guys i forgot you were coming" Isa said as she sat on chunkz his lap as she stared at the boys who looked sad and shocked

"y'all okay?" Isa spoke out with a confused look as she turned her head around to look at chunkz "yeah we okay, hey where is ur phone?" Niko asked all of a sudden and Isa raised her eyebrow as she looked at niko "upstairs charging why?"

"oh no reason" niko said as he stared down at his phone "okay someone tell me whats going on cuz y'all look depressed" Isa said as she turned to look at chunkz

"okay come on sit down next to kenny and sharky" chunkz said as Isa got up from chunkz his lap and sat down on the couch next to kenny and sharky

feeling the athmosphere shift in the room as she grew anxious

"so you know one direction right?" chunkz said softly as Isa nodded quietly looking at chunkz

"and you know Liam Payne?" kenny spoke up as Isa nodded beginning to feel a lump in her throat as she thought of something bad

"he died today" sharky said softly as Isa teared up shaking her head no "your kidding" she said as everyone shook theyre head no "say wallahi he died" Isa said as tears began to run down her face as she looked at chunkz

"wallahi he died baby" chunkz said quietly as Isa sobbed and fell of the couch on her knees and chunkz quickly leaned down and pulled her in a hug "h-how did he die" Isa sobbed out as she hid her face in chunkz his shoulder

"he fell off of a balcony" Aj said quietly as Isa sobbed louder

"oh my G-God" Isa cried out as she shook in chunkz his arms chunkz shushed her quietly as he rubbed her back and kissed her head

2 hours later

chunkz walked down the stairs with a soft sigh "you finally got her to calm down?" sharky said as they were all sitting on the couch as chunkz nodded "ive never heard her cry this loud of this much" chunkz said as he sat down on the couch next to aj and niko

"me neither" kenny said with a soft sigh

"i was thinking about getting her her favorite food to cheer her up" chunkz said as everyone nodded "alright me, you and aj will go get it and then we can watch a movie to get her mind off of it" niko said

"yeah good, Sharky and kenny choose out a movie and look out for her" chunkz said as sharky gave him a small smile "ofcourse"

They went to go get the food

Isabella was currently sitting on her bed her blanket wrapped around her as she stared at the wall that was littered with one direction pictures as she felt the lump in her throat again

she got off of the bed and turned her tv on then clicking on some one direction songs and grabbed her teddy bear as she hopped back in bed sobbing while listening to the songs and staring at the pictures

there was a soft knock on the wall as she let out a quiet yes she looked at the door as Sharky and Kenny walked in "hey" they both at the same time as Isa gave them a quiet hey

"were gonna keep you company" kenny said as they walked in the bedroom and sat down next to Isa and hugged her while she cried quietly

"were back" Niko yelled from downstairs "come on they brought food" sharky said quietly as Isa sighed and wiped her tears and then got out of bed as kenny and sharky and her walked down the stairs seeing Aj niko and chunkz in the kitchen

chunkz turned around and pulled her in a hug "how you feeling love" chunkz asked as he looked down at her as Isa shrugged quietly "bad" she muttered as chunkz kissed her cheeks

"come on were gonna watch a movie to get ur mind off of it" aj said as they walked to the cinema room chunkz and Isa had and they all sat down as 'White Chicks' started playing

they all watched the movie and ate theyre chinese food as Isa forgot about what happened as they continued to watch the movie

After the movie

"thank you guys for getting my mind off of things you guys are the best" Isa said to the boys as she hugged each one of them and ofc giving chunkz a peck as they said no problem

>>>>>

This is shitty i know but my mind wasn't really there when i wrote this im sorry guys xx

[hajimeshoe]

AIGHT SO!

This one is a special one!

So, if you've seen the lion king, you've seen how the lionesses stood up to Scar.

Especially Sarabi (shout out to my queen bro!)

So I had a thought.

Leona's overblot dealing with a female prefect who hadn't been afraid of him from the very beginning.

Stepped on his tail and was not fazed when he threatened her after thinking she was a boy (cause she hid her gender for precautionary reasons)

Stood up to him when he forced the little magical shift game upon Ace, Deuce, Grim, and Cater.

Basically, she was very outspoken when dealing with him and made her presence known.

Even when he overblotted, she showed no fear and stood her ground, still voicing her thoughts.

As she should 💅🏾✨️

OOOH!! YES! An outspoken MC would be one that Leona genuinely likes (Either romantically or platonically) because it's unusual for people to actually talk back to him. Ao3 has been going down a lot this past week and I'm ready to cry. I have stories to write on there. Also! Octopuses have no spines...or any other bones.

Leona with Outspoken Fem!MC

Leona's worst nightmare has come to life (Or just come to Twisted Wonderland)

He wants peace and quiet? Not if the Prefect is around

He was expecting the sole magicless student to be quiet and to know their place in this school, but that was quickly disproved on that fated day in the Botanical Garden

"Don't just leave your tail on the path, then!" the prefect had snapped. "While you're at it, go to YOUR room to sleep instead of sleeping in a place where all students are allowed to go!"

Aaaand, he grew an immediate dislike for her

The magical shift game against the Heartslabyul kids? Only hardened his dislike of her

"HARD pass," she had said. "Seeing as you're incapable of winning anything without cheating, or you wouldn't be letting one of your students injure other players."

And then she had the audacity to stand up to him during his Overblot, yelling about how he can't commit murder just because of a family argument.

"Not happening!" He had growled when Jack brought her to Savannaclaw, asking for her and her pet to stay there.

His greatest mistake? Letting Ruggie guilt him into letting them stay in his room.

Those two could not stay quiet for the life of them, managing to whine about everything and even dragging him headfirst into their squabble with Azul.

"You're a girl!?" He growled upon walking in without thinking to find her changing

She threw a dagger at him...how she got one? He had no clue

But finding out she was a girl changed a lot. After all, Leona couldn't throw hands with a girl, that went against everything he had learnt growing up

Does not give the Prefect his bed, even after finding out she's a girl...just wakes up to find her having trouble sleeping and tosses her in the bed while he takes the couch so he can sleep peacefully

Aaaand that just leads to teasing (Cue Leona google searching "How to get a human to filter their words")

Don't be fooled. He does enjoy having an herbivore that actually speaks up and argues back, no matter how annoying it can be at times. After all, he gets to argue for once when he's normally given his way on principle.

Octopunk overblotted. Did MC get some self-preservation instincts and keep her mouth quiet for once? Of course not.

"Get over it, Azul! Bullying is cruel, but it isn't a damned reason to repeat the cycle! Grow a spine- do octopuses have spines? Oh well, grow one and stop fucking whining!"

...Leona is ready to wrap this suicidal prefect in bubble wrap and lock them in a spare room. Savannaclaw dorm has plenty of empty dorm rooms.

Yes, she's grown on him like a leech

By time Winter Break rolls around, he's just glad to have the prefect out of his dorm and have a reason to get away from her for a couple of weeks.

After all he really needs a nap

And if he "dropped" a better phone than the one Crowley got her in Ramshackle before taking off, well, it's definitely not because he doesn't trust Jamil or Azul

Not at all

[sporesgalaxy]

Tumblr keeps crashing each time I send this so I gotta be quick: do have any tips on how to study biology (college is not an option atm)

Oh boy! I will do my best!

I've listed the basic irl resources for biological information first, followed by some online resources.

I've got a strong Animalia bias, so apologies that I don't have any botany-specific sites for you. 😔

I'm sure there's some stuff I'm forgetting. I'll add on to this if I think of anything!

If there's anything specific you need help finding a reliable biological resource for, let me know and I will try my best to help find you something!

•••

Finding primary sources (stuff written by the scientists who did the research [i.e. a journal article]) is always very good, but reliable secondary resources (someone else summarizing other people's research [i.e. Wikipedia page, book]) can be very valuable as well.

•••

Meatspace Resources

-

I would highly recommend checking to see if there is a Nature Park in your area! Nature parks often have volunteer programs and/or free educational opportunities. In my experience, naturalists are always very excited to meet new people interested in learning about local ecology!

-

There's also Zoos and Aquariums of course, although I know they cost money and are typically geared more towards kids. I'm lucky to live near some nice ones. Maybe check if there are any special programs happening at Zoos/Aquariums in your area (by checking their website[s]), where you might learn more than you would on a normal day trip.

-

Plus natural history museums, which usually have rotating exhibits so that you can keep learning new things when you come back! They also have more of an all-ages vibe than Zoos in my experience. Once again dependant on if there's one near you, and not free.

-

Last but not least: the local library, although obviously not every published book is a flawless resource. Still, might be interesting to poke around! There's usually some sort of digital search catalogue to make finding things easier. Libraries are fun :)

•••

Online Resources

-

Jstor is GREAT. Not all jstor articles are open access/free, but some are! And you can set a search filter to show you only things you can access.

One good way to find out what experts have written for other experts about biology: search a species name or biological concept or type of experimental study, etc. etc., in jstor's journal articles. I've linked a search for journal articles "I can access" containing the word "biology" as an example.

The website layout can feel a little obtuse at first but I think if you fiddle around with it a bit, it's not too bad to figure out? Feel free to kick my ass if I'm wrong djgjkeg

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Wikipedia is actually a very good place to introduce yourself to a lot of biological concepts. I would recommend checking out some of the sources yourself if you can-- usually at least some of them are free, and that can introduce you to new free resources for learning more (today I discovered bugguide.net!). Often they will link you to jstor.

But biology-focused wiki pages have a pretty good track record for Correct Information in my experience. The only issue I've run into is there being too little information sometimes.

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Pubmed is a really good resource to read biomedical scientific papers for free if that interests you at all! Reading scientific papers is a really important skill and I think you can pick up a lot just by diving in and googling words you don't know.

A well-designed experiment is replicable (that is, you can understand from the paper how they set things up to the point that you could do it yourself, given the resources). It's also important to pay attention to sample size. The more times you replicate any process in an experiment, the more likely you will be able to identify what the most common result really is, and why.

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Fishbase is a website I was introduced to in my icthyology class to find info about different fish species :) It kind of just dumps all the info on you in a big text wall, but many pages include great details about life cycle and diet that might go unmentioned on wiki pages.

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I've never used bugguide.net before today, but so far it seems solid and like it has a lot of good info. I assume it is similar to fishbase but for bugs

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EDIT: FREE ONLINE TEXTBOOKS I FORGOT ABOUT!!!

I used both of these for university classes at some point. I didn't use them much, so there may be issues I don't know about.

In my experience though they were solid resources, if a little confusingly worded at times. Bouncing between the textbooks and wikipedia tended to help me.

[bitchkay]

Dancing in the dark♡

~Rio Voleri

CW: fluff, ur pregnant again sry😬 rio can't keep his hands off you, fem reader, miss reader can sing🎤🎵🎶, rio got a little beard♡, rio says an innuendo guys😳, yall are so in love you're a little bit stupid🤕, this takes place during your third pregnancy but you're not incredibly far along (but showing) so Genesis isn't in the picture at this point, falling in love by cigarettes after sex♡, gets suggestive at the end

Word count: 1536

Rating: Teen and up audiences

Note: my Google search history probably thinks I'm pregnant with how much I've been researching about pregnancy, what's generally normal, what's considered high risk/low risk, symptoms, side effects, baby's, growing infants/toddler, baby development, hormones and mood swings and other stuff like that, I love doing research for stuff like this though I like knowing things plus I wanna be accurate, and it's kinda fun, I be looking at forums and posts by pregnant women and I'm like damn that's crazy🤭🤭

☆𝕋𝕙𝕣𝕖𝕖'𝕤 𝕒 𝕔𝕣𝕠𝕨𝕕, 𝕗𝕠𝕦𝕣'𝕤 𝕒 𝕡𝕒𝕣𝕥𝕪 + 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕗𝕒𝕞𝕚𝕝𝕪 𝕤𝕖𝕣𝕚𝕖𝕤 𝕞𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕝𝕚𝕤𝕥

“You're not cold are you?”

You perked up looking behind you as Rio came up to where you sat on a sturdy rock by the pond in the castle gardens. The moon shone bright, illuminating the clearing, the water glittering in the subtle light.

“I'm fine, I brought a sweater with me. Did Halo finally go down?” You asked scooting over to make room for your burly husband.

“She's asleep. I had to sit with her until she fell asleep though, she didn't want me to leave. I also checked on the twins, they're fast asleep as well,” Rio sat next to you throwing his arm around your shoulder holding you close to his side.

“Thank you so much sweetie. Sorry to ask you to put the kids to bed by yourself,” you lean your head on his shoulder affectionately.

“You needn't worry about me, I'd do whatever you asked of me if you wanted, especially when it comes to our kids,” Rio leaned over to gently kiss your forehead. “How's number four?”

Referring to your pregnant belly Rio looked down at you, moving his arms down towards your waist caressing your side as you threw your legs over his lap.

“I want to say, asleep like the others,” you gave a soft chuckle. “Calm… nice… was kicking earlier but probably got the hint that it's nighttime and not to fight with me so late, hehe. We’re doing good.”

“Good.”

Rio sat with you in silence rubbing your side soothingly as you both watched the calm waters of the little pond before you. Little lily pads floating atop the water and flowers around the pond's perimeter. The critters that lived here must be asleep as well.

“Do you ever think that we're going too fast, Rio?”

Your voice made him pause a moment, putting a hand to his slightly hairy chin in thought.

“What do you mean?”

“I'm pregnant, Rio. We've been married for less than ten years. This is our fourth child and my third pregnancy. The twins are already seven years old, Halo is about to be four, with another baby on the way, plus we talked about adopting too… of course I wouldn't trade any of this for the world but…”

“Well, do you think we're going too fast? Tell me. I know I'm as much a father as you are a mother but the choice is ultimately yours. You know I wouldn't be mad if you decided you didn't want to have anymore kids. Of course I love every child you've given me but it's your body on the line not mine. Talk to me” Rio looked you in the eyes with seriousness, his love for you shining through. “You're my wife first.”

“I was just thinking that our family is getting so big so fast already,” you say calmly. You spread your hand on your swollen stomach, rubbing it through the clothes. “But you know what? I can't imagine doing this with anyone else… However, breeding me every three years is a bit overkill, no?”

Rio smiles cheekily pulling you closer so you're fully on his lap. “You know I can't get enough of you, I cherish our rare alone time together.” He leans in nuzzling up to the side of your face like a puppy bidding for affection. “Plus motherhood has made you so undeniably alluring to me~”

“Rio!”

You push his face away playfully standing up hiding your embarrassed face. Rio follows you, hugging you from behind before you can run away relaxing as you lean into his touch. You close your eyes, putting your hands on top of his sighing as a pleasant night breeze hits your skin.

“You're sure you're not cold?”

You nod your head quietly, turning around in his embrace, wrapping your hands behind Rios neck as you rested your head on his chest. You feel so at ease in his arms, his warmth radiating through his clothes, steady heartbeat acting as a metronome. 

“Even if I was… you're warm… stay like this a while longer?”

Rio smiles, placing a kiss on the top of your head. “For you, Sunbeam♡”

And so you stand in the floral garden illuminated by the moon swaying back and forth to an invisible melody like trees in a gentle breeze. You hum a tune closing your eyes leaning further into Rio's chest letting the song carry you paying no heed to the fact you're still outside humming the song contently.

“What song is that?” Rio rubs your back soothingly as he falls into step with you.

“A song from back home- the human realm I mean. I just suddenly remembered it… it's a good song,” you breathed out your words, relaxed.

“Sing it to me,” Rio smiled down at you as he took your hand in his wrapping the other around your waist.

“You want me to?”

“Of course.”

“It's been quite a while, you know? I don't think I remember all the words,” you said shyly as Rio pulled you into a slow dance simply enjoying being close to you.

“That's okay. I wouldn't know the difference anyway.”

You giggle looking away flustered. “Well now I'm nervous, what if you don't like it?”

“Then I won't ask again. Please, my love.” Rio thumbed your hip affectionately giving you a sweet smile.

Your face warmed at the use of “my love” making you smile. “Alright then♡”

You cleared your throat as Rio held you by the waist gliding about, dancing as you hummed the melody.

“When I hold you close to me, I could always see a house by the ocean. Last night I could hear the waves, as I heard you say ‘All that I want to be is yours’...”

With one hand on his shoulder and the other in his palm you smile up at Rio lovingly as you sway back and forth, him looking back at you with just as much admiration if not more as he pulled you closer by the waist.

“Falling in love, falling in love. Deeper than I've felt it before with you baby. I feel I'm falling in love with all my heart.” You rested your head on Rio's chest as you sang, feeling a soft kiss be placed on top of your head.

“Beautiful…”

Your mellow voice carried you as you danced through the grass in a comfortable hold, the moon rising higher in the sky. You gave a soft chuckle as you forgot some of the words humming along the melody. In this moment Rio couldn't help but find you the loveliest creature in all the land.

“Falling in love, falling in love. Deeper than I've felt it before with you baby. I feel I'm falling in love with all my heart♡”

As you finished the song you felt fatigue creep up on you, leaning on Rios chest with more weight.

“Sunbeam? Getting sleepy? It's late.” Rio hugged you gently to his chest tenderly placing a hand on your head. “Do you want to go inside?”

“Maybe… I'm just really comfortable here with you. I like moments like this,” you wrapped your arms around Rio torso. “I just wish this baby wasn't getting in the way of being right up against you.”

Rio chuckled at your words before scooping his arm beneath your knees picking you (and all your pregnant self) up with ease. 

“Hey! I can walk you kno–!”

“Hush. Knowing you, you'll be asleep before we get to the room. Relax, will you,” Rio said in a more stern tone, no stranger to your stubbornness.

Your face warmed as his voice sent your heart a flutter. Perhaps it was just your hormones talking but suddenly sleep was the last thing on your mind.

“The kids are asleep right?” You asked innocently.

“Yes? Why-” oh he knows that look in your eye.

“I'm horny-”

“No.”

“But baby-”

“We are going to bed.”

“But I need you…”

“And you need sleep,” of course Rio would love to indulge you but at this hour you would be lucky to get any sleep at all before dawn if he gave into your (his) desires. He must (begrudgingly) put his foot down.

“Why are you so mean to me…” you pouted, your eyes turning wet as you crossed your arms.

“Sunbeam…” he kissed your forehead for the nth time this night.

“You just can't keep up with me because these pregnancy hormones make me insatiable…” Which is true, your moods tended to be up and down, sad, mad, ultra happy, but when you were in the mood nothing could bring you down better than your hot and sexy husband. Once your doctor said it was safe to have intercourse during this pregnancy you weren't passing up the opportunity to have sex with Rio any chance you could get it, whenever you wanted it and could slip away.

“Exactly. If I let you have your way neither of us are going to sleep tonight, and as much as you say you need me, I know you're tired. So let's go to sleep, my love.

“... you hate me.”

“Let's go to sleep, my love.”

“You want me dead.”

“We're going to bed, my love.”

©bitchkay.tumblr.com

[loser-jpg]

Saw you wanted a writing request. How about GN Yuu who has rlly bad nightmares? It’s too the point where they get scared to go to bed (I used to have bad nightmares as a kid and I had one tonight so it’s on theme). With Azul, Rook and Leona (plus anyone else you want) please 😋

OKIE DOKIE

i wrote these with the idea that the characters care for Yuu more than it seems through the game dialogue, can be read platonic or romantic but was intended more romantic.

Azul:

Azul also probably has nightmares, but not to the extent Yuu does. He notices as Yuu starts to look more and morw tired and how they deflect when asked about it. He confronts them himself one day and is able to get them to tell him about the nightmares.

You best believe the second he knows hes out searching for anything that can help. The twst version of Google is this mans #1 hope and the search bar is filled with multiple versions of "how to get rid of nightmares forever??!?!"

At one point or another he probably just goes "You uh...wanna talk about it?" and then immedietly regrest saying that and wants to crawl back into his octo pot.

The tweels would probably tease him for trying to help Yuu so much, but hes a little to preoqupied trying to get their regular sleep schedule back on track.

Rook:

This man is a level 1 stalker and knows the SECOND Yuu isnt sticking with their normal sleep schedule. He probably finds out the answer too without having to even confront them. Mans just...knows things.

Once he does know Yuu best be ready to just have stuff show up at Ramshackle. Some really expensive looking tea? Howd that get there :D. Rook would probably try to like, drug them or something to get them to sleep if he didnt realize that was majorly messed up.

He probably cries to Vil about how "Mon Trickster is having nightmares, and now it is having an effect on their radient glow ToT." If Yuu sees Vil walking toward you angrily, they should run.

Doesnt ask if Yuu wants to talk about it, but would totally be willing to listen if Yuu aproached him. Hed probably find it entertaining.

Leona:

He probably notices Yuus avoidence of sleep when he tries to use them as a nap pillow. The switch from "fine whatever" to "no. must avoid chances of sleeping at all cost." is pretty drastic. Theres probably one day where he drags them to the botanical garden anyway and they fall asleep there, and Leona has to witness them seemingly having a panic attack while still alseep.

After that its pure clingyness. Whats the best way to cure a messed up sleep schedule because of fear of nightmares? Being forced to nap with someone of course 👍. Honestly he probably has had nightmares of his own, and had wanted nothing other than for someone to just be there. not necessarily to talk but just for the company.

Strangely enough it probably works and now Yuu no longer is afraid to sleep but refuses to sleep if Leona is not in arms reach. Congrats now youve got two co-dependent sleepy people.

Leona probably doesnt seem like he cares much, but its more of a silent care, knowing that its nothing too bad and that its something that can be fixed.

(yeah i wrote Leonas very self indulgent. I am a simp and it contaminates all my writing)

[lynlyndoll]

In my eyes, you the one and only

genre: fluff, angst, idol au

wc: 1.0k

pairing: idol! han x idol! reader

appearances and specifications: ok, so it's basically you and Han, but you are in a group named BeBoom (credit to whoever did the logo of this non-existent group) and one of your members make an appearance. Her name is Hwa, but you can name her however you want though.

an: Okay, had this idea for like, 3 days, but only last night got the inspiration to write it. I listened to NO NAME by Yezi and yes, I thought it fitted I GOT IT, so I do think you should think about NO NAME as the rap you perform. The lyrics are made by me, so if they suck, yall will know that I'm not made to be a lyricist.😔

You and your boyfriend knew each other for as long as you could remember. Your families were neighbors and so, you and him met a lot while being kids. Went to the same school and high school, so meeting up during classes wasn't hard at all. However, you kind of lost connection when he had to leave Malaysia to pursue his dream of being a singer, leaving you behind. You didn't mind it, nor hated him for leaving you, his best friend, alone. You also didn't mind that he was the one who got to train and not you, the one who spent her whole childhood dreaming about becoming an idol. But what you hated was the distance, you hated the fact that you weren't allowed to talk or see each other.

Years went by and somehow, you found yourself in front of a jury from YG entertainment. Your palms were sweaty and you felt as if you were going to pass out. But you wanted this. You wanted to succeed as well and somehow, without thinking too much, you got in. You were accepted in the company and that's how your journey to becoming an idol began. You worked day and night, barely taking a few breaks.

You debuted in 2019, with 6 other girls in a group named BeBoom. You were the main rapper of the group and you couldn't be more proud. Your members were all your friends whom you grew up with. But you did forget one thing. You forgot about Han, about him debuting, about him being your rival, in this hard industry.

Your group's debut made a lot of noise and it was impossible to not know at least about the song VENOM by BeBoom. And for Han, it was no exception. He heard it when he was scrolling down at the new playlist Spotify made for him. He listened to it once or twice before figuring something out. Figuring that a certain voice made him feel nostalgic. He searched for the members and there you were in all your glory. Google showed a picture of you smiling, with your blonde hair with black highlights and red lipstick. It fitted you, he thought, smiling at the picture. He wanted to say it to you, to congratulate you.

And so he did. When both and your group performed at the award show, he contemplated what he should do. Knock on your door or leave you a message, or ask his contacts to find yours. However, he agreed to do it normally. He found your group's cabin. It wasn't too hard since laughter and chaotic sounds were heard even from outside. He knocked once, but no one heard it. He knocked twice and he could hear footsteps. Right when he wanted to knock again, your member, Hwa, opened the door, standing curiously outside.

"May I help you...?" She says.

"Yeah, I was actually... I wanted to ask if..." He tried saying, not finding the words. However, you heard his voice.

"Ji?" Your voice was heard. Hwa connected the dots and left you both to have a talk. That day you reconnected with him and started meeting up to him more often. And that's how your friendship turned into a relationship.

Your life was absolutely perfect. You made your dream come true, you had amazing friends and your best friend was now your lover. After 3 years of dating, however, you and Han realized that you wanted to make your relationship public, to stop hiding and go on normal dates, without being followed everywhere for a dating scandal. So both of you started hinting. Lives full of recommendations of songs from each other’s groups, little appearances in each other’s vlogs, but nothing made your fans to believe something more than friendship was happening, since you both said that you were childhood friends. So, you came with an idea. An idea that made both you and Han smile, knowing it would shock everyone. And that is what both of you were. You were made to shock people.

You were in your changing room, dressed as all of the other back up dancers. You had a black short dress and a black mask on your face. Time was ticking and it was time for you to get on the stage. You and Han both prepared this moment, so you only hoped it worked. The backtrack of I GOT IT started. Han entered on the stage, smirked at you and started his performance. His song usually had around 3 minutes of rapping, but no one knew the surprise you planned. You moved on the beats, the same as the other back up dancers. But right after one minute and a half, the beat somehow changed and the lights went out, making everyone in the crowd gasp. Right then, the spotlight came back on you, right when you threw your mask on the ground. The backup dancers covered you, so you could undress half of your dress, making you easily spotted out. And right there, your own song started, the same vibe as I GOT IT. While you were rapping, this time Han was the one who couldn't be easily spotted on the stage, dressed as the other male backup dancers. The crowd cheered for you as well, amazed by the shocking collab. Right when your own would come to the fire part, you changed your song’s lyrics, rapped by both you and Han, now seen next to you.

“Shining better than a diamond, in my eyes you're the one and only,

Dreamin’ bout this day, together as we sweared, not lonely,

Swallow ‘em all, fearless cause you by my side,

Let’s stop this madness and stop tryin’ to hide,

Makin’ them finally understand,

But let’s try to not make it out of hand,

Y’all heard about my own best friend,

Loving her him until the end.”

The tune went by for a few more seconds, you and Han finishing your performance with a kiss. The crowd applaused and screamed your names, making both of you smile.

taglist!!

@agi-ppangx @lisaaassophhhieee @hyunjin-lover20

[ysbrydthespoop]

Gorillaz Headcanons.

2D owns an extensive collection of band T-shirts and when Noodle was still small enough, she would "borrow" them and wear them as dresses. She still borrows them to this day. They just don't come down to her knees anymore.

Sometimes 2D still gets asked to show his ID, even though he's nearly 45.

Russel refused to let Murdoc or 2D teach Noodle how to drive. In fact after a certain incident that ended with a car on its back,he would only drive let 2D drive if he couldn't, if Noodle was in the car, and he wouldn't let Murdoc drive at all.

After Noodle joined the band, Murdoc forged every document she would need to live with them legally. This was a direct response to 2D asking him, "What we are going to do if social services come round?" He'd later find out that 2D quote. "Wasn't even thinking about any of that legal stuff. I was thinking about the state of this place. I mean, who'd let a kid live here? Especially with you?"

2D considers how they were able to keep Noodle in Kong Studios and even more so in their care to be one the greatest mysteries of the universe.

According to these fake documents, Murdoc is her adoptive father. Noodle has tried to burn these documents multiple times.

Creating these documents also promted the boys to give her a "real name" and this came from them realising they couldn't just put "Noodle" on these documents. They at least needed something they could put under "Last name". So, with five minutes, a couple of Google searches, and a session on Google Translate, a name was chosen. Etsuko Amainara. According to their research, Etsuko meant joy, joyful and child of delight, and no one stopped Russel when he wordlessly put it down on all the forms. Her last name was basically made up by 2D with the help of Google Translate is a probably badly translated version of sweetheart.

If you asked Noodle what she thought their choices, she'd say conflicted. She can't help but feel annoyed they didn't at least consult her before they chose a name that was going to be stuck to her on every document she carreid for the rest of her life. But it's not a bad name by any means. Though she does find her last name to be sweet and cringy at the same time

They hardly ever call her Estuko and she rarely uses it herself. Noodle is Noodle. No other other name suits her better. But they still use it sometimes, and they did so much more frequently when she was younger. 2D and Russel would say it with a stern tone. Their way of letting her know when they were serious. And Murdoc used it like a parent using their child's middle name. Growing up, she knew she was in trouble if she heard him yelling, ETSUKO!

One may assume (fairly because it's Murdoc) that he barely contributed to Noodle's upbringing. But in actuality, he was by far the strictest out of all her bandmates. At least in Noodle's opinion. He had a ton rules for her (and very few were rational) but the thing he was the thing he was the most controlling over was the internet. She wasn't allowed to use social media at all and chat rooms were absolutely forbidden. He wouldn't even let her use a computer unsupervised, even when she was fifteen going on sixteen. And he was hellbent on making sure Noodle didn't have a computer of her own. In fact, she once heard him saying to 2D and Russel that "if either of you get her a computer, I'm smashing it over your heads."He never gave an explanation as to why other than, "she's too young." But the truth was he was scared shitless of the internet and who could be lurking on there.

Rise of the Ogre is a tad inaccurate as well as outdeated. Russel has broken Murdoc's nose countless times before that book was written, druring, and after. Offences have included but are not limited to.

Letting Noodle get drunk.

Baking a batch of weed brownies and leaving them out for a then eleven-year-old Noodle to mistake for normal brownies and eat them.

Causing several car crashes that could have killed them all.

Hosting raves in Kong Studios and letting people trash the place.

Flirting with the bride at Russel's Uncle's wedding.

Hurting 2D (too many incidents to list)

Replacing Noodle with a robot.

Replacing him with a drum machine. But then he broke his nose an extra time for creating cyborg Noodle, for good measure.

Not telling him or 2D that Noodle was alive after the El maniana incident. This also caused 2D to snap, grab a random bit of driftwood, and beat the crap out of him with it.

Their reunion on Plastic Beach after spending years apart was UGLY. It started off wonderful. Tears and hugs and indescribable joy. Especially from 2D, when he finally knew his baby sister was alive. But then more revaluations came. Of the brusies all over 2D's body and that Murdoc had kept Noodle's survival a secret, and things went to absolute hell. For Murdoc. He ended up having to flee because everyone else wanted to kill him.

Their only regret about plastic beach being destroyed is that they didn't get to do it themselves.

After the band got separated and runited yet again and Noodle only agreed to rejoin the band on the condition they all go to therapy. Because, "Holy fuck! Every single one of you needs it."

She nearly had Russel placed on a phych ward when he started doing nothing but stare blankly at static. The only reason she didn't was because she started to see truth in the things he was seeing.

2D keeps quiet about his relationships and never tells the group if he's in one (for some reason. Not naming any names here) But if he goes quiet. Noodle imedietly notices and tries to find out why. If she finds he is seeing someone, she'll basically stalk them. Collecting information on them until she's satisfied 2D wont get hurt. She calls this "vibe checking".

Russel taught Noodle and 2D how to meditate. He learned it himself as a way to calm his mind from the things he was seeing.

After the Forever Cult incident. Noodle decided it would be best to put a tracker on 2D's phone so she'll always know where he is.

After, she also decided it would probably be best to put a tracker on all of her bandmates phones. None of them can be trusted unsupervised for very long. She hasn't told any of them about it. What they don't know can't hurt them.

A while ago, Murdoc managed to invent an elixir that keeps people from ageing and has been slipping into his bandmates' food and drink for years. He started doing this to 2D and Russel sometime around the Phase 2 era but decided to wait before starting it with Noodle, so she wouldn't be stuck living as a kid/teenager forever. And obviously, because even 2D would notice if she still looked thirteen ten years later. The whole reason for this, of course, was to keep his bandmates with him, and young and marketable forever. He hasn't gotten around to telling any of them just yet.

[shuxiii]

Everyday pt.4

Hanni Pham x reader pt1, pt2, pt3, pt4, pt5, pt6, pt7, pt8, pt9, pt10, pt11, pt12, pt13

a/n I know some idols have no siblings but pretend they have in this one because I am lazy, still all credits to ''every day'' by David Levithan meow

Day 5999

My mind is thoroughly wrung out, but I can tell Haruto Watanabe has gotten a good night’s sleep.

Haruto is a good guy. Everything in his room is in order. Even though it’s only Saturday morning, he’s already done his homework for the weekend. He’s set his alarm for eight o’clock, not wanting the day to go to waste. He was probably in bed by ten.

I go on his computer and check my email, making sure to write myself some notes about the last few days, so I can remember them. Then I log in to Minji’s email and find out there’s a party tonight at Huh Yunjin’s house. Yunjin’s address is only a Google search away. When I map out the distance between Haruto’s house and Yunjin’s, I find it’s only a ninety-minute drive.

It looks like Haruto might be going to a party tonight.

First, I must convince his parents.

His mother interrupts me when I’m back on my own email, rereading what I wrote about the day with Hanni. I very quickly shut the window, and oblige when she tells me that today is not a computer day, and that I am to come down for breakfast.

I very quickly discover that Haruto’s parents are a very nice couple who make it very clear that their niceness shouldn’t be challenged or pressed.

“Can I borrow the car?” I ask. “The school musical is tonight, and I would like to go see it.”

“Have you done your homework?”

I nod.

“Your chores?”

“I will.”

“And you’ll be back by midnight?”

I nod. I decide not to mention to them that if I’m not back by midnight, I’ll be ripped from my current body. I don’t think they’d find that reassuring.

It’s clear to me that they won’t need the car tonight. They are the type of parents who don’t believe in having a social life. They have television instead.

I spend most of the day doing chores. After I’m done with them and have had a family dinner, I’m good to go.

The party’s supposed to start at seven, so I know I have to wait until nine to show up, so there will be enough people there to hide my presence. If I get there and it ends up being open to only a dozen kids, I’ll have to turn back around. But that doesn’t strike me as Minji’s kind of party.

Haruto’s kind of party, I’m guessing, involves board games and Dr Pepper. As I drive back to Hanni’s town, I access some of his memories. I am a firm believer that every person, young or old, has at least one good story to tell. Haruto’s, however, is pretty hard to find. The only tremor of emotion I can find in his life is when he was nine and his dog April died. Ever since then, nothing seems to have disturbed him too much. Most of his memories involve homework. He has friends, but they don’t do very much outside of school. When Little League was over, he gave up sports. He has never, from what I can tell, sipped anything stronger than a beer, and even that was during a Father’s Day barbecue, at his uncle’s prodding.

Normally, I would take these as parameters. Normally, I would stay within Haruto’s safe zone.

But not today. Not with a chance of seeing Hanni again.

I remember yesterday, and how the trail that got me through the darkness seemed to be attached in some way to her. It’s as if when you love someone, they become your reason. And maybe I’ve gotten it backward, maybe it’s just because I need a reason that I find myself falling in love with her. But I don’t think that’s it. I think I would have continued along, oblivious, if I hadn’t happened to meet her.

Now I’m letting my life hijack these other lives for a day. I am not staying within their parameters. Even if that’s dangerous.

I’m at Huh Yunjin’s house by eight, but Minji’s car is nowhere in sight. In fact, there aren’t that many cars out in front. So I wait and watch. After a while, people start arriving. Even though I’ve just spent a day and a half at their school, I don’t recognize any of them. They were all peripheral.

Finally, just after nine-thirty, Minji’s car pulls up. Hanni is with her, as I’d hoped she’d be. As they head in, she walks a little bit in front, with her a little behind. I get out of my car and follow them inside.

I’m worried there will be someone at the door, but the party’s already spiraled into its own form of chaos. The early guests are well past the point of drunkenness, and everyone else is quickly catching up. I know I look out of place—Haruto’s wardrobe is more suited to a debate tournament than a Saturday night house party. But nobody really cares; they’re too caught up in each other or themselves to notice a random geek in their midst.

The lights are dim, the music is loud, and Hanni is hard to find. But just the fact that I am in the same place as her has me nervously exhilarated.

Minji is in the kitchen, talking with some guys. She looks at ease, in her element. She finishes one beer and immediately goes for another.

I push past her, push through the living room and find myself in the den. The instant I step in the room, I know she’s here. Even though the music’s blaring from a laptop connected to some speakers, she’s over by the CD collection, thumbing through cases. Two girls are talking nearby, and I have a sense that at one point she was a part of their conversation, then decided to drop out.

I walk over and see that one of the CDs she’s looking at has a song we listened to on our car ride.

“I really like them,” I say, gesturing to the CD. “Do you?”

She startles, as if this is a quiet room and I am a sudden noise. I notice you, I want to say. Even when no one else does, I do. I will.

“Yeah,” she says. “I like them, too.”

I start to sing the song, the one from the car. Then I say, “I like that one in particular.”

“Do I know you?” she asks.

“I’m Haruto,” I say, which isn’t a no or a yes.

“I’m Hanni,” she says.

“That’s a beautiful name.”

“Thanks. I used to hate it, but I don’t so much anymore.”

“Why?”

“It’s just a pain to spell.” She looks at me closely. “Do you go to Octavian?”

“No. I’m just here for the weekend. Visiting my cousin.”

“Who’s your cousin?”

“Yunjin.”

This is a dangerous lie, since I have no idea which of the person is Yunjin, and I have no way of accessing the information.

“Oh, that explains it.”

She is starting to drift away from me, just as I imagine she drifted away from the girls talking next to us.

“I hate my cousin,” I say.

This gets her attention.

“I hate the way she treats girls. I hate the way she thinks she can buy all her friends by throwing parties like this. I hate the way that she only talks to you when she needs something. I hate the way she doesn’t seem capable of love.”

I realize I’m now talking about Minji, not Yunjin.

“Then why are you here?” Hanni asks.

“Because I want to see it fall apart. Because when this party gets busted—and if it stays this loud, it will get busted—I want to be a witness. From a safe distance away, of course.”

“And you’re saying she’s incapable of loving Kazuha? They’ve been going out for over a year.”

With a silent apology to Kazuha and Yunjin, I say, “That doesn’t mean anything, does it? I mean, being with someone for over a year can mean that you love them… but it can also mean you’re trapped.”

At first, I think I’ve gone too far. I can feel Hanni taking in my words, but I don’t know what she’s doing with them. The sound of words as they’re said is always different from the sound they make when they’re heard because the speaker hears some of the sounds from the inside.

Finally, she says, “Speaking from experience?”

It’s laughable to think that Haruto—who, from what I can tell, hasn’t gone on a date since eighth grade—would be speaking from experience. But she doesn’t know him, which means I can be more like me. Not that I’m speaking from experience, either. Just the experience of observing.

“There are many things that can keep you in a relationship,” I say. “Fear of being alone. Fear of disrupting the arrangement of your life. A decision to settle for something that’s okay, because you don’t know if you can get any better. Or maybe there’s the irrational belief that it will get better, even if you know he won’t change.”

“He’?”

“Yeah.”

“I see.”

At first I don’t understand what she sees—clearly, I was talking about her. Then I get where the pronoun has led her.

“That cool?” I ask, figuring it will make Haruto even less threatening if he’s gay.

“Completely.”

“How about you?” I ask. “Seeing anyone?”

“Yeah,” she says. Then, deadpan, “For over a year.”

“And why are you still together? Fear of being alone? A decision to settle? An irrational belief that he’ll change?”

“Yes. Yes. And yes.”

“So…”

“But he can also be incredibly sweet. And I know that, deep down, I mean the world to him.”

“Deep down? That sounds like settling to me. You shouldn’t have to venture deep down in order to get to love.”

“Let’s switch the topic, okay? This isn’t a good party topic. I liked it more when you were singing to me.”

I’m about to make reference to another song we heard on our car ride—hoping that maybe it’ll bring her back in some way—when Minji’s voice comes from over my shoulder, asking, “So who’s this?” If she was relaxed when I saw her in the kitchen, now she’s annoyed.

“Don’t worry, Minji,” Hanni says. “He’s gay.”

“Yeah, I can tell from the way he’s dressed. What are you doing here?”

“Haruto, this is Minji, my girlfriend. Minji, this is Haruto.”

I say hi. She doesn’t respond.

“You seen Kazuha?” she asks Hanni. “Yunjin’s looking for her. I think they’re at it again.”

“Maybe she went to the basement.”

“Nah. They’re dancing in the basement.”

Hanni likes this news, I can tell.

“Want to go down there and dance?” she asks Minji.

“Hell no! I didn’t come here to dance. I came here to drink.”

“Charming,” Hanni says, more (I think) for my benefit than her. “Do you mind if I go dance with Haruto?”

“You sure he’s gay?”

“I’ll sing you show tunes if you want me to prove it,” I volunteer.

Minji slaps me on the back. “No, bro, don’t do that, okay? Go dance.”

So that’s how it comes to pass that Hanni is leading me to Huh Yunjin’s basement. As we hit the stairs, we can feel the bass under our feet. It’s a different soundtrack here—a tide of pulse and beat. Only a few red lights are on, so all we can see are the outlines of bodies as they meld together.

“Hey, Yunjin!” Hanni calls out. “I like your cousin!”

A girl who must be Yunjin looks at her and nods. Whether she can’t hear what she’s said or whether she’s trashed, I can’t tell.

“Have you seen Kazuha?” she yells.

“No!” Hanni yells back.

Then we’re in with the dancers. The sad truth is that I have about as much experience on a dance floor as Haruto does. I try to lose myself in the music, but that doesn’t work. Instead, I need to lose myself in Hanni. I have to give myself over entirely to her—I must be her shadow, her complement, the other half of this conversation of bodies. As she moves, I move with her. I touch her back, her waist. She comes in closer.

By losing myself to her, I gain her. The conversation is working. We have found our rhythm and we are riding it. I find myself singing along, singing to her, and she loves it. She transforms once again into someone carefree, and I transform into someone whose only care is her.

“You’re not bad!” she shouts over the music.

“You’re amazing!” I shout back.

I know that Minji is not coming down here. She is safe with Huh Yunjin’s gay cousin, and I am safe knowing that nobody else will interfere with this moment. The songs collide into one long song—as if one singer is taking over when the previous one stops, all of them taking turns to give us this. The sound waves push us into each other, wrap around us like colors. We are paying attention to each other and we are paying attention to the enormity. The room has no ceiling; the room has no walls. There is only the open field of our excitement, and we run across it in small movements, sometimes without our feet leaving the ground. We go for what feels like hours and also feels like no time at all. We go until the music stops, until someone turns on the lights and says the party is ending, that the neighbors have complained and the police are probably coming.

Hanni looks as disappointed as I feel.

“I have to find Minji,” she says. “Are you going to be okay?”

No, I want to tell her. I won’t be okay until you can come with me to wherever it is that I’m going next.

I ask her for her email address, and when she raises an eyebrow, I tell her again not to worry, that I’m still gay.

“That’s too bad,” she says. I want her to say more, but then she’s giving me her email address, and in response I’m giving her a fake email address that I’ll have to set up as soon as I get home.

People are starting to run from the house. Sirens can be heard in the distance, probably waking up as many people as the party has. Hanni leaves me to find Minji, promising me that she’ll be the one to drive. I don’t see them as I run to my car. I know it’s late, but I don’t know how late it is until I turn on the car and look at the clock.

11:15.

There’s no way I’ll get there in time.

Seventy miles an hour.

Eighty miles an hour.

Eighty-five.

I drive as fast as I can, but it’s not fast enough.

At 11:50, I pull over to the side of the road. If I close my eyes, I should be able to fall asleep before midnight. That is the blessing of what I have to go through—I am able to fall asleep in minutes.

Poor Haruto Watanabe. He is going to wake up on the side of an interstate, an hour away from his home. I can only imagine how terrified he’ll be.

I am a monster for doing this to him.

But I have my reason.

Day 6000

It’s time for Yoon Kee Ho to go to church.

I quickly dress myself in his Sunday best, which either he or his mother conveniently left out the night before. Then I go downstairs and have breakfast with his mother and his three sisters. There’s no father in sight. It doesn’t take much accessing to know he left just after the youngest daughter was born, and it’s been a struggle for their mom ever since.

There’s only one computer in the house, and I have to wait until Keeho’s mother is getting the girls ready to go before I can quickly boot it up and create the email address I gave Hanni last night. I can only hope that she hasn’t tried to get in touch with me already.

Keeho's name is being called—it’s church time. I sign off, clear the history, and join my sisters in the car. It takes me a few minutes to get their names straight—Pam is eleven, Lacey is ten, and Jenny is eight. Only Jenny seems excited about going to church.

When we get there, the girls head off to Sunday school while I join Keeho’s mother in the main congregation. I prepare myself for a Baptist service and try to remember what makes it different from the other church services I’ve been to.

I have been to many religious services over the years. Each one I go to only reinforces my general impression that religions have much, much more in common than they like to admit. The beliefs are almost always the same; it’s just that the histories are different. Everybody wants to believe in a higher power. Everybody wants to belong to something bigger than themselves, and everybody wants company in doing that. They want there to be a force of good on earth, and they want an incentive to be a part of that force. They want to be able to prove their belief and their belonging, through rituals and devotion. They want to touch the enormity.

It’s only in the finer points that it gets complicated and contentious, the inability to realize that no matter what our religion or gender or race or geographic background, we all have about 98 percent in common with each other. Yes, the differences between male and female are biological, but if you look at the biology as a matter of percentage, there aren’t a whole lot of things that are different. Race is different purely as a social construction, not as an inherent difference. And religion—whether you believe in God or Yahweh or Allah or something else, odds are that at heart you want the same things. For whatever reason, we like to focus on the 2 percent that’s different, and most of the conflict in the world comes from that.

The only way I can navigate through my life is because of the 98 percent that every life has in common.

I think of this as I go through the rituals of a Sunday morning at church. I keep looking at Keeho’s mother, who is so tired, so taxed. I feel as much belief in her as I do in God—I find faith in human perseverance, even as the universe throws challenge after challenge our way. This might be one of the things I saw in Hanni, too—her desire to persevere.

After church, we head to Keeho’s grandmother’s house for Sunday dinner. There’s no computer, and even if it weren’t a three-hour drive away, there wouldn’t be any way for me to get to Hanni. So I take it as a day of rest. I play games with my sisters and make a ring of hands with the rest of my family when it’s time to say grace.

The only discord comes when we’re driving home and a fight breaks out in the backseat. As sisters, they probably have closer to 99 percent in common, but they’re not about to recognize that. They’d rather fight over what kind of pet they’re going to get … even though I’m not sensing any indication from their mother that a pet is in their near future. It’s an argument for its own sake.

When we get home, I bide my time before asking if I can use the computer. It’s in a very public place, and I will need everyone to be in another room in order to check my email. While the three girls run around, I retire to Keeho’s room and do his weekend homework the best that I can. I am banking on the fact that Keeho has a later bedtime than his sisters, and in this I am correct. After Sunday supper, the girls get an hour of television in the same room as the computer. Then Keeho’s mother tells them it’s time to get ready for bed. There’s much protest, but it falls on deaf ears. This is its own kind of ritual, and Mom always wins.

While Keeho’s mother is getting the girls into their pajamas and getting out their clothes for tomorrow, I have a few minutes on my own. I quickly check the email I set up in the morning, and there’s no message from Hanni yet. I decide it can’t hurt to be proactive here, so I type in her address and start an email before I can stop myself.

Hi Hanni,

I just wanted to say that it was lovely meeting you and dancing with you last night. I’m sorry the police came and separated us. Even though you’re not my type, gender-wise, you’re certainly my type, person-wise. Please keep in touch.

H

That seems safe enough to me. Clever, but not self-congratulatorially so. Sincere, but not overbearing. It’s only a few lines, but I reread it at least a dozen times before I hit send. I let go of the words and wonder what words will come back. If any.

Bedtime seems to be taking a while—it sounds like there’s some argument about which chapter their read-aloud left off on—so I load up my personal email.

Such an ordinary gesture. One click, and the instant appearance of the inbox, in all its familiar rows.

But this time it’s like walking into a room and finding a bomb right in the middle of it.

There, under a bookstore newsletter, is an incoming message from none other than Haruto Watanabe.

The subject line is WARNING.

I read:

I don’t know who you are or what you are or what you did to me yesterday, but I want you to know you won’t get away with it. I will not let you possess me or destroy my life. I will not remain quiet. I know what happened and I know you must be in some way responsible. Leave me alone. I am not your host.

“Are you okay?”

I turn and find Keeho’s mother in the doorway.

“I’m fine,” I say, positioning myself in front of the screen.

“Alright, then. You have ten minutes more, then I want you to help me unload the dishwasher and head to bed. We have a long week ahead of us.”

“Okay, Mom. I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

I turn back to the email. I don’t know how to respond, or if I should respond. I have a vague recollection of Haruto’s mother interrupting me while I was on the computer—I must have closed the window without clearing the history. So when Haruto loaded up his email, it must have been my address that popped up. But he doesn’t know my password, so the account itself should be safe. Just in case, though, I know I need to change my password and move all my old emails, quick.

I will not remain quiet.

I wonder what this means.

I can’t forward all my old emails in the ten minutes that I have, but I start to make a dent in them.

“Keeho!”

Keeho’s mother calls me and I know I have to go. But clearing the history and turning off the computer can’t stop my thoughts. I think about Haruto waking up on the side of the road. I try to imagine what he must have felt. But the truth is, I don’t know. Did he feel like it was something he had gotten himself into? Or did he immediately know that something was wrong, that someone else had been in control? Was he sure of this when he went to his computer and saw my email address?

Who does he think I am?

What does he think I am?

I head into the kitchen and Keeho’s mother gives me another look of concern. She and Keeho are close, I can tell. She knows how to read her son. Over the years, they’ve been there for each other. He’s helped raise his sisters. And she’s raised him.

If I really were Keeho, I could tell her everything. If I really were Keeho, no matter how hard it was to understand, she would be on my side. Fiercely. Unconditionally.

But I am not really her son, or anyone’s son. I can’t disclose what’s bothering Keeho today, because it doesn’t have much bearing on who he’ll be tomorrow. So I brush off his mother’s concern, tell her it’s no big deal, then help her take the dishes out of the dishwasher. We work in quiet camaraderie until the task is done, and sleep calls.

For a while, though, I can’t go to sleep. I lie in bed, stare at the ceiling. This is the irony: Even though I wake up in a different body every morning, I’ve always felt in some way that I am in control.

But now I don’t feel in control at all.

Now there are other people involved.

[booasaur]

how are you downloading Ici tout commence?

From the official site!

First, I use a VPN to get a French IP (or Belgian--I'm not sure which they accept, I just know these two work) so I can access the network's streaming site, TF1+. You should be able to sign up for a free account without issue. This is the page for the season 4 eps:

https://www.tf1.fr/tf1/ici-tout-commence/videos/saison-4

Apparently there are always two eps in advance available for the premium subscribers but I'm not caught up plus I think it'd be a little harder to sign up for an actual paid account so I probably won't be able to do that.

So normally I would use youtube-dl/yt-dlp to download the eps but that won't work here, or at least not without some extra steps, because these are DRMed. This is where it gets a little tricky and the whole process isn't super well documented both because it changes a lot and it makes more sense to teach people to learn how to do it than how to do it and also because, well, the more these methods are spread, the more networks change things up and make things harder.

This thread can help you get started: https://forum.videohelp.com/threads/412113-MYTF1-Help-needed-New-DRM-system-can-t-download

The whole forum is quite useful and I've only had to post for help a couple of times, mostly I just search my issue and read through.

That provided command in the second post, that's something to be used in your command line, on Windows in Start you can open that by typing in cmd or PowerShell or just google what you'll need for your computer.

These are the things you'll need to get to run the command:

N_m3u8DL-RE is a tool you can google and download, and also ffmpeg and mp4decrypt. You'll want them in the same folder for convenience. (I think you might need to install python too? If it says you do, then go ahead, lol.)

The way to get the key, this is the most gatekept part, probably. The various streamers out there use different methods of encryption and increasing security levels, and if you read up on it, you'll see stuff about kid and pssh and cdm and L3, it can be overwhelming, but in this case, the things you need are relatively easily accessible.

I'll tell you how to get the pssh and the license URL and you'll be able to use those to get the key. There are several tools you can use them on, one is public and easy, one is private but still easy-ish, and one is pretty complex and not a route I've gone down myself yet (it's the pinned thread in that particular forum). I don't want to link any of them myself, but I'll link to a thread that mentions the easy public one. It does go down at times which is why the hardcore people recommend that last method.

First, before you click on an ep, open up your browser's Developer Tools, usually Ctrl+Shift+i will do the trick. Go over to your Network tab, this shows all the requests your browser makes when you go to a site.

Then click on the episode in the actual browser. You'll see a flood of requests in the Network tab, filter on mpd.

Select the mpd result and the details for it show on the side, click on Preview. Scroll down until you see <!-- Widevine -->. A couple of lines below it, you'll see something like <cenc:pssh>AAA[a bunch of characters]</cenc:pssh>

Grab that whoooole part that starts with AAA, that's the pssh. Go to the Headers detail tab while you're there and grab the Request URL, this is the mpd link we're going to use later.

Now to get the license. Usually you can filter in your Devtools Network tab on license or, in this case, widevine. Since we're already on the Headers detail tab, grab this Request URL now, it should start with https://widevine-proxy-m.prod.p.tf1.fr/proxy?

Now go back to that easy public tool linked in that thread I linked, lol, and just fill in the PSSH and the License. Hit Send and you get a list of three keys at the bottom. I've always gone for the one in the middle and not bothered with all three, but you can try them all.

So at this point, you should be able to fully create and use the command in the first forum link above. If you read the documentation for N_m3u8DL-RE, there are various flags you can use, --save-name "Outputname" will let you name the output what you want, -sv best defaults to the best video quality, -sa best is best audio quality, and so on.

The way to get the subtitle is to turn on subtitles on the video player on the site and to go back to the DevTools box and filter on textstream. Grab the first request, the one that ends with =1000.dash and paste it into a new browser address, and change the .dash to .vtt. That's the subtitle. :) You can use the free tool Subtitle Edit to both convert it to srt, which will let most video players play it with your video, and there's also an Auto-translate option that lets you translate to English. It offers several ways but as I don't have a Google API, I just use the normal "slow" method, it's not that bad.

A second way to get the subtitle is to use the same command as when you're downloading the ep but remove the -M format=mp4 at the end, and instead add -ss 'id="textstream_fra=1000":for=all'

This was all figured out through a LOT of trial and error on my part so please do try your own best if you hit some issues, that's the best way to learn. Also, I just don't want to be the helpdesk on this, lol.