#have you seen the yellow sign?

[xantdee]

Translated the infamous Cassilda's song to Russian while preparing to run Impossible Landscapes. Everyone is welcome to use my translation if you like it.

О берег бьются облака, Два солнца прячутся в волнах, И тени все длинней в Каркозе.

Созвездий черных странный свет Мерцает странным лунам вслед, Но всех страннее мрак Каркозы.

Струится с неба песнь Гиад, Лохмотья Короля шуршат, Но тишина царит в Каркозе.

Мой голос нем, слова мертвы, Невыплаканных слез следы Засохнут навсегда в Каркозе.

[deltagreenwcell]

I found a copy of the king in yellow

here it is

"https://drive.google.com/file/d/19AQ2vX9eoucwlGzIBKlfjerajJtVn-TP/view?pli=1"

read at your own risk

Burn BEFORE reading.

Activate STATIC protocol.

[silvandar]

New game! Respond to all unsolicited messages and bots with this image

Use variations of the phrase "have you seen the Yellow Sign?"

Bonus points for Malevolent fans if you continuously call them John or Arthur.

You get 10 points for every reply they send, and 100 points if they call you a slur or become abusive.

All platforms can play!

Please do screenshot and tag with "Yellow Sign Who Dis" so we can watch the fun!

[majoresca]

Folks, do you believe in signs? Like, omens and superstitions?

[hoodedfigure-no99]

Got some ink done the other week.

[moontoonhasnoboobs]

HAVE YOU SEEN THE YELLOW SIGN?

Consider: The King in Yellow,

THE MUSICAL!

[kitasuno]

we fly together | kageyama tobio x reader

in which kageyama tobio is born for several things: the court, his team, and you. and he really, really wants to marry you.

wc: 766 | gn reader | little glimpses of your relationship with tobio over the years

There are several givens in Kageyama Tobio’s life. 

There’s volleyball. It’s in his blood. Volleyball is shoes squeaking on floors, the shrill of a whistle, Nikuman after practice, and that sweet, sweet feeling of connection– fingers brushing yellow and blue leather and palms aching after a serve. Kageyama Tobio was born for the court and born to fly. 

His team is one of them. There’s Sugawara, who still treats him to yakitori and an Asahi Dry (or three) whenever he’s back in Miyagi. Daichi sends him assorted nuts from Sendai every once in a while and Nishinoya mass e-mails him slightly blurry pictures of his life abroad on New Years. Ushijima buys electrolytes for him and Kourai. Shouyou is, well, Shouyou, and Kageyama counts him as two givens. 

There’s the small things too: he takes a little too long to read Kanji, he buys a new face wash every month, he will always avoid rush hour. 

And then, he thinks, there’s you. 

It hits him in full force in the middle of the street on a Tuesday evening as he holds a plastic bag of groceries. It also, consequently, renders him immobile for ten minutes, because Tobio had never been one to dwell on the givens. But as he stands on the pavement and his bag carries the burden of hashi for two, yogurt for two, two packs of sandwiches and four bags of gummies,

 ( because you really like those gummies: and Tobio had thought, if you like the grape flavor, then you should also try the strawberry. And if you wanted to try something new, you might crave the fizzy Cola ones. And if you liked the Cola ones, then he had to buy the Ramune flavored ones, too ) 

Tobio gets the urge to buy a ring. And an urge, no, a craving to marry you. 

Tobio remembers study sessions in high school and desperate makeouts in Karasuno’s dusty storage closet. He remembers the firsts: first conversation, first fight, first kiss, first date. Sprinting on beaches before the sun kissed the horizon and laying underneath the stars. He remembers graduation under cherry blossoms and pressing his second button into your palm with red cheeks and shaking hands. 

There were tears, too. Anger as he realized he couldn’t, for once, be selfish and have both you and professional volleyball. Anger as you had cried and cried and cried in his arms because you were getting your degree in Miyagi and he was moving to Tokyo. Anger as you had suggested breaking things off because you knew that Kageyama was born for the court. To fly. 

And you had said, between tears, that Tokyo was his potential. Because you knew him, and you knew that he didn’t like texting and that he wasn’t good at communicating, but you somehow underestimated how much you meant to him. Then: you had stopped crying because Kageyama was crying. And you had never seen Kageyama cry. 

You were there when Kageyama started on the National Team, standing in the bleachers with the biggest smile he had ever seen, jumping as you turned to show him the Kageyama embroidered on the back of your jersey. You were there when he accepted his position on the Adlers, and watched their broadcasted games behind textbooks and journals and pencils from your dorm in Sendai. 

Kageyama was there when you called him sobbing because the pipes in your dorm leaked. He was there when you got fired from your part time job for slapping a customer. Begrudgingly, he was there when you asked him to have Oikawa Tooru sign twelve jerseys for your friends at university. And then, he was there when you graduated college, diploma in hand and a blush on your cheeks as you pressed your button into his palm even though you really weren’t supposed to do that. 

Now you’re in Tokyo, having accepted his slightly bashful request for you to move in with him– in a nice apartment on the fourteenth floor overlooking the city; because even though he didn’t really like heights, he knew you loved city lights and people-watching. And if he had to cover his face when he saw the nameplate next to your shared apartment that read Kageyama, well. You didn’t have to know that. 

He’s still on the street, and he’s still holding his grocery bag, but his eyes are firm because he really wants to make your last name Kageyama. 

So he makes a phone call. 

“Tanaka-san,” He says before his former upperclassman can react. “Where did you buy Shimizu’s ring?” 

[ikkyfics]

Divination

James Potter x f!reader

Summary: "You two have a intertwined future," the teacher says, her enigmatic smile deepening. "I see a boy... He'll wear glasses, like his father."

Warnings: just fluffy - a lovestruck and embarrassed James

Masterlist - Realization - c.ai

The scent of incense hangs heavy in the stifling Divination classroom, where the heat wraps around you like an invisible cloak. The dim light of scattered candles in ancient holders gives the room a mysterious air, and thick velvet curtains block out any sign of the outside world. You’re seated beside James Potter, and between the two of you, at the center of the round table, a crystal ball rests silently, surrounded by a tattered book of Divination with yellowed pages.

It’s been at least half an hour since you both started staring at the crystal ball, unable to see anything at all. Frustrated, James was the first to give up, throwing himself into the far more entertaining task of making up ridiculous stories about the future he “saw” in the cloudy surface of the object.

“There! It’s as clear as day,” he says, dramatically pointing at the crystal ball with a mischievous grin. “You’re going to be the first professional Quidditch player to bring a hippogriff onto the field. And I’ll, uh… obviously become the greatest dragon tamer the world has ever seen.”

You burst into laughter, trying to keep a straight face as he gestures like he’s actually wrangling an invisible dragon. “Didn’t know your vision included being mauled by your own dragon,” you tease, and he chuckles, pushing his glasses up as he attempts to look offended.

You’re still laughing when you notice the professor’s presence beside your table. She seems to materialize out of the shadows, her intense gaze flicking between you and James. Your laughter dies in your throat, and James straightens in his chair, still with a trace of a grin on his lips.

“Enjoying yourselves, I see,” the professor says, her low voice reverberating in the quiet space. She leans slightly forward, observing the crystal ball for a few seconds before turning her gaze back to you. The pause is long, almost uncomfortable, and when she finally speaks, the room seems to hold its breath along with you.

“You two have an intertwined future,” she says, her enigmatic smile deepening. Her fingers brush lightly against your shoulder, a gesture almost maternal. “I see a boy… He’ll wear glasses, like his father.”

The silence that follows is deafening. It feels as though the entire world has frozen in that instant, the weight of her words hitting you like a gust of icy wind. When you finally summon the courage to glance at James, he’s already looking at you, his eyes wide, his expression a mix of surprise, embarrassment, and something else you can’t quite place.

“Well… that was… interesting,” he says at last, breaking the silence with a voice deeper than usual. He attempts to laugh, but it comes out nervous, and his hand automatically moves to his neck, ruffling his already messy hair.

“Interesting is one word for it,” you murmur, trying to keep your voice steady. But your heart is pounding so fast it feels impossible he can’t hear it.

For a moment that feels like an eternity, you hold each other’s gaze. James’s look is intense, almost unsettling, as though he’s trying to decipher something, like the future the professor mentioned is now written on your face.

“Our son, huh?” he finally says, his voice barely a whisper. He tries to smile, but it’s a hesitant one, laden with something that might be fear or anticipation. “Hope he gets your good sense. Two of me would be a disaster.”

You laugh, despite the tension, and the sound seems to ease the air between you. “And I hope he doesn’t inherit your knack for getting into trouble.”

He laughs too, and for a brief moment, everything feels normal again. But then the silence returns. James averts his gaze, staring at the crystal ball as if, suddenly, it’s the most fascinating thing in the world. You do the same, fixing your eyes on the open Divination book in front of you, though you can’t read a single word.

And then, at the same time:

“I was thinking that—” “Do you think she—”

The words overlap, making both of you stop instantly. You look at each other, startled, before James starts to laugh nervously. You can’t help but laugh too, covering your mouth with your hand as you feel heat rising to your cheeks.

“Sorry,” he says, still chuckling, his eyes sparkling behind his glasses. “You go first.”

“No, you go,” you reply, the smile still playing on your lips.

“Alright, then.” He takes a deep breath, as if preparing for something big, but when he speaks, his voice comes out softer than you expected. “Do you think… she was serious?”

You hesitate, biting your lip as you consider the question. “I don’t know. She seems so certain about everything, but… maybe it’s just one of those things she says to make an impression, you know?”

James nods, but his smile is small, almost uncertain. “Yeah, probably. I mean, she did say Peter would marry a Merpeople, didn’t she?”

You laugh again, the memory easing some of the tension. “And that Sirius would become Minister for Magic. He nearly cried from laughing so hard.”

“Yeah, that does put things in perspective.” He laughs too, but the silence that follows feels different this time. It’s not uncomfortable, but full of unspoken thoughts that seem to hang in the air between you.

“But what if…?” you begin, your voice so quiet you can’t believe you said it out loud.

James looks at you, his eyes narrowing slightly, as if he’s trying to figure out what you mean. “What if…?” he repeats, leaving the question hanging, and you feel your heart race.

“Oh, forget it,” you say quickly, laughing nervously. “It’s just the professor and her absurd prophecies. No reason to take it seriously.”

“Yeah, of course,” he agrees, but something in his voice makes you think he’s not entirely convinced.

The silence returns, and you can’t help but let your mind wander. A little boy with James’s messy hair and a pair of glasses slipping down his nose comes to mind, and without meaning to, you smile. The image is so sweet it almost makes your heart ache.

“What are you smiling at?” James asks, and you realize he’s looking at you again, his head tilted slightly.

“Nothing,” you respond far too quickly, feeling heat rise to your face.

“Doesn’t look like nothing,” he presses, his eyes gleaming with curiosity.

“It’s just…” You hesitate, but James’s smile is encouraging, even if he doesn’t realize it. “I was thinking about what she said. About… a boy. And I was imagining… he’d look just like you, with messy hair and those glasses.”

James blinks, as though your words caught him completely off guard, and you feel the urgent need to fill the silence before it gets awkward. “Not that I think that’s going to happen! It’s just… well, the idea is funny, isn’t it?”

“It’s…” he starts, but then stops, rubbing the back of his neck as he looks away. When he speaks again, his voice is almost a murmur: “I think I’d… maybe I’d prefer a girl. Who looked like you.”

Time seems to stop. You’re sure your heart skips a beat, and the silence that follows is so thick you could cut it with a knife.

James’s eyes widen as if he’s just realized what he said. “I mean—” he begins, his voice an octave higher. “Not that… that’s not what I meant! I just… ah, never mind.”

A smile tugs at the corners of your lips, and it’s impossible to hold it back. “A girl who looks like me, huh?” you tease, and his embarrassment is so endearing you almost forget your own.

“Alright, you win,” he says, throwing his hands up in surrender, but the smile he tries to hide says more than any words could. “I think the professor got to us. We’re officially losing it.”

“Yeah,” you agree, laughing, but inside, you know something has changed. Because, as absurd as it might seem, the idea of a shared future with James doesn’t feel so impossible anymore.

[servicpop]

kinktober week 1 — shower / bath adrien ( deliquent oc ) x bttm m reader

That Saturday afternoon glow of light orange and yellows filtered through your curtains and into your room. It was a sign to turn on your light since it was getting dark. As usual, you were hunched over your desk finishing off any work you had from your classes, pen in hand and music blasting through your headphones.

Your music cuts off and out of confusion you pick it up from its position faced down on the table; its Adrien, of course. He's sent you a rather cryptic message of just emojis, no text, just "🧍‍♂️👉🏡👍💒💦💞💞💞. You don't have half the mind to decipher it but you do understand that he's most likely heading to your house. Per usual.

You don't bother sending him a reply, you seeing it is enough for Adrien to take that as a yes.

Your parents aren't home tonight, but that's never stopped Adrien from sneaking into your room through your window, even if the front door is free. You hear rattling and that's when you know Adrien has so kindly graced you with his presence. To make things easier for him, you decide to slide the window open and peer down at him.

Just like rapunzel, he's scaling your 'tower' like it's nothing. You sometimes question if Adrien is even human, and how he's acquired knowledge to safely climb your two story home. You notice that he has his gym bag slung over his shoulder and he tilts his head up to you with a grin, "Catch this!" He shouts, throwing his bag up to you and you shakily catch it, placing it down on the floor.

The next second, Adrien is hauling himself into your room and brushing off the dust from his clothes. "The front door is... open you know?" You huff, shaking your head disapprovingly. You glance over at him, and you see beads of sweat dripping down his temples and how his chest rises and falls quicker than usual.

"Are you—" "I went to training." Right, Adrien trains basically every second day of the week for a sport you never thought to ask about. Basketball? Football? Hockey? You never asked.

"Can I use your shower, prez?" The question comes off too casual; you've never really let any of your friends take a shower in your house let alone come over regularly. But since Adrien is already here, all sweaty and hot, you can't find a reason to say no. "Fine, everything you need is in there," you nod, walking back to sit at your desk.

"You're not gonna show me where it is?" Adrien places a hand on your desk, leaning his weight against his arm as he looks down at you. You just assumed he knew where it was given he's broke into your house multiple times but your assumptions were wrong. You get up and start walking, not bothering to look back to see if Adrien was following. You knew he would.

You reach your bathroom, stepping in so you could show him where everything was. Before you started speaking, you heard the faint click of the door shutting.

"Adrien—" "How am I supposed to know which knob is hot or cold?" he's so blatantly playing with you. He walks right up to you, only a hair away as he looks down at you. A stupid grin is plastered across his face and his fingers are gripping at the edge of his shirt, pulling it up and over his head. "I'm all sweaty, prez, I need help washing my back," he sighs dramatically, fanning his face.

You take a moment to just stare. He's glistening in a sheen of sweat, droplets trickling down the curves and dents of his muscles, even his hair is slightly tousled. You keep quiet, unsure of what to say. That grin on his face never seems to lessen; it only grows wider by the second.

You can't even utter out a word before Adrien is pulling off his pants, letting them fall to his ankles. Your head instinctively darts to the right, trying to shield your eyes. "What? You act like you've never seen my dick before," he snorts out, tugging at your shirt, "it's been inside you too," he adds, successfully pulling your shirt off. "Oh shut up," you groan, grimacing at the way Adrien says it.

You don't stop him from completely stripping you down before taking off his own boxers, you just have the decency not to stare. He pushed the shower door open and ushered you inside before following you in. His chest his flushed against your back and the feeling of his sweat against your skin made you shiver, "Sorry," he mutters with a small chuckle.

He does know which knob is cold or hot because he immediately turns them to a desirable temperature. It's a little bit cooler than your preference though, but you don't mind it.

Adrien wastes no time in feeling your body, his hands moving straight to your hips like a moth to a flame. "You've been eating good? Not overworking yourself, prez?" He murmurs against your skin, his lips dragging along your shoulders as he clutches your body. "Yeah," your response is quiet and short, almost breathless since Adrien is all up on you at the moment.

His fingers trace the lines of your hip bone to your front, patting the skin where your leg meets your hip, slowly dipping more into your inner thighs to rub that area. His hands are so close. You can feel him spread your flesh, and he slots his cock in the free space. "Adrien," you scold, trying to pry his hands away but Adrien just ends up pushing you against the wall, your palms flat against the glass.

"You've been treating yourself well?" He hums, and you can tell from his tone he's half-mindely asking you these questions just to keep a conversation. He moves his hips back, sliding against the underside of your dick before meeting your hole, rubbing shallowly. "I haven't seen you in a week," from gentle caresses to harsher groping, Adrien's hands are now squeezing your hips.

Adrien nips at your neck, biting gently since he knew how you felt about visible marks, "It's so hard to avoid you" He borderline growls in your ear, pushing up into you. Adrien groans quietly at the feeling of you stretching out around him. His breathing becomes more and more audible as he caresses your torso.

Your small whines are muffled by the sound of water hitting the shower floor and the feeling of the cold glass along your chest gets you squirming. Adrien lifts your hips up a tiny bit, giving your ass a small tap before pushing in fully. Your fingers twitch and clench on the glass, trying desperately to hold onto something before Adrien's own hands meet yours, slotting a finger inbetween the gaps of yours.

"Just want me to hold your hand?" You wanna bite back at him but you lose your voice the moment he pulls out and thrusts back in, forcing a yelp out your throat instead of words. He squeezes the plush flesh of your ass a few times, and his eyes are trained to your hole, watching as it sucked him back in everytime he moved his hips back.

Adrien was getting overly worked up right now and the water didn't help either. Seeing the droplets decorate your spine like clear crystals rolling down the curve of your back made his mind go blank. You really brought that side out of him. He couldn't help but imagine that was his semen painting your back instead.

"Fuck you're too cute," He grunted, squeezing your hand a little tighter. Everytime Adrien pushed his dick in further, you felt the water push into you as well like it was wetting your insides. It was a weird sensation, nothing like lube, but it served to heighten your arousal from the fact that the water made the sound ofbyour skin clapping together alot louder.

It wasn't long before Adrien had moved in a way where he could hit your prostate directly and he knew he found it the moment you let out a strangled cry. Hearing that, Adrien pushed your body more against the glass, pinning you between himself and the wall. Your neglected cock was feverishly rubbing against cold wall with each thrust, smearing your pre-cum all over the glass.

"Does it feel good? Shit, maybe I gotta experiment with temp-play later," Adrien chuckled and you just let out an agitated groan that came out more like a needy whine. "That's where you're weak, isn't it? The underside of your dick?" You hated how he knew these things by now, but he wasn't wrong. Everytime you rubbed along the cold glass your body would jolt away from it and into Adrien which would result in him pushing you back into the wall as he fucked you from behind.

"Fuck, I'm gonna cum," you heave, squirming relentlessly as your dick twitched against the wall. Adrien just let's out a strained chuckle as he grips your hips tighter, pounding into you even faster. He leans his head down to your shoulder and sinks his teeth into your skin, forgetting about the fact that you would definitely scold him for this afterwards. The feeling of Adrien's chapped lips and sharp teeth piercing through your skin made your vision go white and your ears ring.

Your previously clear shower walls are now splattered with white and your knees buck as Adrien holds you up, forcing you to stand as he orgasms into you. He laughs breathlessly as you ragdoll in his arms like a baby deer who's trying to stand up. "Right, right I'll clean you up baby just relax, and then we'll get out," he chuckles, rubbing soap inbetween his hands before cleaning you off,

"I think I'm gonna dry up like a raisin if I stay here any longer..."

[critterbitter]

The twins and their starters may have grown slightly taller, but their love of shenanigans have tripled, no, quadrupled in size.

On that note did you know Eelectrik has a glow animation?? Perfect nightlight eel. Absolute gold standard for creature. Click here for the masterlist!

Bonus shitpost under cut ft @birdsaretoddlers’s incredible take.

(plus a fanfic drabble that birds did while we were discussing in chat! Check out their funny writing @birdsaretoddlers) “Lam lam pentttt. Lam.”

“Language. I am not calling them that. This is a civil discussion about the capacity of a 284 Berkshire’s firebox, not a playground argument.”

“Lammm Pent.”

“If you possess my phone I will have to put you in time-out in your ball, and neither of us will like that.”

The argument over a literal online flame war was cut short by the door flying open, one of the hinges breaking off with the force and flying somewhere into the aether, never to be seen again. Or at least, not without a strong magnet.

Emmet stood there, proudly, holding his newly-evolved Eelektrik, his grin a mile wide. Ingo picked his heart up out of his femoral artery, where it had lodged itself, and gently removed Lampent from where she hid, hanging over his shoulder. Emmet stood there, eyes twinkling, clearly ready to perform the coveted Bit. Ingo opened his mouth, got halfway through a word, and his twin took the proffered delight of cutting him off.

“I am Emmet and I discovered something INCREDIBLE. INGO LOOK.”

Ingo looked, because what else was he going to do? He would allow his twin to complete his circus act, it was only proper and polite. Eelektrik trilled with delight. Emmet twirled like the best of Nimbasan runway models, clearly wrestling his eel, cooing platitudes to it as he writhed and squirmed to get it into position.

“Me beautiful slimy baby, my beloved pool noodle, my beeesstt conductor!~” Doing something that could generously be called ‘dislocating his shoulders’, Emmet managed to get his eel flipped up and around his neck. He flopped forwards, bonelessly, tipping his hat and giggling madly. He was grinning harder than normal. Ingo was a little scared.

“But now, Eelektrik can do MORE. OBSERVE.”

He threw his shoulders back, standing up as tall as he could, somehow not throwing himself ass-first onto the floor as the fifty pounds of eel he was currently deadlifting remained stationary over his neck. Emmet’s arms flew upwards and out, rocking back and forth in jazz hands. Eelektrik frilled its fans, made another happy little buzz and-

"Eelektrik boa."

“DRAGONS ALMIGHTY. THE EEL GLOWS.”

There it was, clear as day. Eelektrik flashed it’s spots in natural bioluminescence, blinking like a neon sign. Bright beautiful yellow and clearly charged, Emmet’s hair stood on end, pushing his hat an inch off his head. They blinked in a rhythmic, pulsing manner. It was almost hypnotizing to watch, in a way. Ingo snapped back to reality, realizing his mouth had dropped open and Lampent had ceased questing for his Pokedex. Recognizing Emmet was looking for a response, he threw his arm out in a thumbs-up so fast his arm hurt, snapping his suspender against his neck.

“Brrravo! Ten out of ten! Majestic eel scarf!” He praised, Emmet’s expression only growing further full of himself and his achievement, which was well deserved. Lampent echoed the sentiment, flashing back at Eelektrik in response.

Now that both Pokemon could glow, they’d never have a problem in the caves again!

[honey-tongued-devil]

↠The last drop tour

| Part 1 | | Part 2 | | Part 3 |

This tour is designed to provide those who need it with a complete map of the Last Drop, as well as to help me (and anyone reading my fanfiction, Everytime it Rains) clearly envision the spaces while reading. This tour is incredibly detailed, and I’ll explain both the location and what you’re looking at. Let’s just say I’ll be your personal tour guide! Enjoy!

↠FIRST PART, THE BAR

Let’s start with the entrance! The door is massive, asymmetrical in true Zaun style, made of stained glass and steel. To the right of the door is the Last Drop’s electric meter, while on the left stands the iconic, battered jukebox. In these photos, it looks especially worse for wear because they were taken after the fight between Vi and Sevika.

And we can finally turn around to take in the Last Drop in its entirety! For accuracy, I’ve included both a screenshot from “Jinx Fixes Everything” and an image from Nikolai Lebedev’s ArtStation portfolio.

There are about four fairly large round tables scattered across the central area of the room. The floor is herringbone wood, and the lighting is spread out. While I didn’t take the photos myself, the LED lights are dispersed across the ceiling. On the second floor, you can still spot a yellowish-greenish sign featuring the Last Drop’s symbol, and the “columns” are adorned with blue lights.

If you’re looking for warm lighting, the yellow neon lights and the ones behind the bar are switched on; the cooler lights are positioned along the side walls of the venue.

Before moving on to show you what’s around the main rectangle, I’d like to point out that the staircase to the left of the bar leads to the upper floor. Next to it is a small corridor that takes you to arcade machines and the pool table seen in several scenes.

"What’s on the sides of the rectangle? What do you mean?"

Yeah, I wasn’t sure how else to describe it, but while the public and chaotic section where people dance is the central rectangle, to the right and left of that area are two booths on each side. These booths have fixed tables and heavy curtains that can be closed to ensure maximum privacy.

This is where customers strike deals—we see it in Act 1 when the two Bilgewater pirates threaten Huck. Since the Last Drop came under Silco’s control, the first booth now displays pictures of him (and two other chembarons, though theirs are small and insignificant), commemorating the venue’s inauguration.

So, if you’re looking for privacy, this is the perfect spot.

But follow me—before I take you to Silco’s office, I’ll bring you to another place I’m sure none of you expected to see. Through the door to the right of the bar, there’s a small flat area, perfect for storing spare drinks, followed by a long staircase leading down. But first, we need to grab the key. Silco cared deeply about keeping this place intact, so it’s been locked up the entire time. In the meantime, take a look at the bar!

The key is nailed to one of the planks of the bar—it was necessary to stop here to retrieve it. But let’s not dawdle, down we go!

I know you’d never have guessed, but Silco was an extremely sentimental person. He decided not to touch the little room where Vander and his kids used to live. Instead, he locked it up and let it remain "sacred" in its own way. The room is very small and packed with stuff, so it’s hard to move around. You’ll have to settle for a quick glimpse. Let me jog your memory by reminding you that when Vander talks to Vi and sends Mylo and Claggor out of the room, the staircase Claggor sits on is the same one we just came down.

What do you say—shall we head back up? Taking the staircase on the left side of the bar, we arrive at the upper floor! At first glance, it’s just a mezzanine, as it aligns with the "public" rectangle of the bar below. To the left of the stairs, we have Silco’s office, which I’ll show you in detail another time. Over there, where you now see the barrels, is where, in my story, there’s a door leading to the upstairs area—currently Vander and the kids’ home. That door gets covered during event nights to prevent any troublemakers from wandering into their house. On the right, we have the DJ’s console and more tables for those who’d rather enjoy their drinks in peace than join the dance floor.

The reason I suggest you take a break and grab a drink before entering Silco's office is that there's really a lot to see. Here you’ll find my Masterlist, which includes both Part 1 and Part 2 of the tour.

[enemywasp]

Shipping both billford and billdip is really funny actually. Cause imagine you have this weird toxic yet sort of romantic relationships with your muse throughout your youth till one day you realise he's just using you and you have the worst breakup the universe has ever seen and you get trapped travelling dimensions plotting your revenge. Skip forward to when your back and you find you have a nephew with all the same interests and likings as you did at his age so you watch him grow up surrounding himself with the paranormal and research just like you. And them suddenly he starts acting weird and secretive and you recognise all the signs but surely not, right?? And so you ignore it all until one day you finally come back from travelling with your brother one summer to find your far-too-similar-to-you nephew obviously dating a demon. And y'know what are the chances but surely it can't be- its that exact yellow prick. Your ex. Dating your nephew. And looking far too smug about it too.

[toxicanonymity]

No hard feelings

Joel miller x f!reader | 1.3k words I8+ MDNI. 1980 AU, you're a college student and have car trouble. Joel offers help, if he gets to take pics of you. Sleaze/creep, touching, pet names. Big ty to aly @iamasaddie for her 24 hr fic challenge (which had these pics) even if this doesn't fit the challenge due to length and not signing up lmao it still inspired me. I saw it last night when I read aly's hot fic, Feelings are a lot of work ❤️‍🔥❤️.

When your car broke down on a remote stretch away from campus, your face was dewy and your thighs stuck to the leather seat. You got out in your daisy dukes and thin white tee and popped the hood. You were bent over, looking at the smoking engine, when you heard a truck and looked back to see a faded yellow F-100 kicking up dust as it rolled to a stop. You tried to pull your shorts down enough to cover your ass cheeks as a man exited the truck in jeans and a teal polo with the collar all wonky. His salt and pepper hair was sweaty, and he held a cowboy hat to his chest.

“Miss,” he nodded. “Mind if I take a look?”

You agreed, and he put his hat on.

. . .

When he was done, he offered, “I could get ya fixed up long enough to get ya to the service station.”

“Thank you,” you gushed. “Thank you so much, really.”

“Oh I ain’t doin’ it for free, sugar,” he laughed darkly and your face fell.

“Alright,” you mumbled to the ground, then looked him in the eye. “Thanks for taking a look anyway.”

He looked you up and down and gave a low whistle. “Ain’t you a sight for sore eyes.”

You crossed your arms, temporarily obscuring the view of your nipples poking through the worn cotton.

“Tell ya what,” he offered. “I’mma get ya fixed up here, then you’re gonna lemme take some pictures of ya.”

“You said go straight to the station.”

“Oh we can do it right here, sugar. Got my camera’n all,” he nodded toward his truck. “Whaddya say?”

“Alright,” you agreed, without any other options. No other cars had driven by in the time since he’d been there. He nodded, put on his cowboy hat, then put a toothpick in his mouth. “Wait in the truck if ya wan’t. Grab me a beer. One for you too.”

At least the beer was cold.

You didn't wait in his truck, you lowered the tailgate of the bed of his truck and sat there with your legs dangling off the back, watching him work.

—--

Sweat blotched his polo with darker patches until he stopped, took off his hat and dabbed his forehead with his arm. Then, as he pulled the polo over his head, that’s when you recognized him.

He put his cowboy hat back on, turned around, balled up his sweaty shirt, and threw it at you. “Grab me another beer, darlin’. Almost done here.”

You'd seen that broad back before, and his padded stomach that didn’t quite hide his strong abdomen.

As you handed him a lukewarm Coors light, you asked, “Don’t you work on campus at UT?”

“Heh,” he chuckled. “Recognize me?” He brazenly studied your tits, looking back and forth at them, then your mouth.

“Guess so,” you agreed.

“Soon as I took my shirt off, huh?” He gave you a wink then went back to working on your car.

Yeah, his physique was what caught your eye on campus. He was a janitor and he wore a gray jumpsuit. One day when you were walking home from class, he must’ve been on break, because he was leaned up against a maintenance vehicle with his jumpsuit hanging down, sleeves tied around his waist, brown skin glistening in the sun, having a cigarette. He turned his head to watch you walk by and gave you a small nod, then raised his eyebrows as a he took a drag. Then he stomped his cigarette out and turned around. You ogled his muscular back, and he looked over his shoulder and caught you.

. . .

When he finished working on your car, the sun was glaring as it approached the horizon. He put his wrinkled shirt back on, stowed some tools in his truck, and came back with a Polaroid camera hanging from his neck.

“Right there’s good,” he muttered with you still sitting on the bed of the truck

You fidgeted with your clothes and crossed your knees and he snapped a pic. The camera whirred and he took out the pic, waved it through the air, then slipped it into the breast pocket of his wrinkled shirt.

“Alright, now you’re gonna be a good girl for me,” he informed you. “And y’ain’t gonna be a prude about it ether.”

Your gut twisted, but at the same time, your pussy throbbed at his commands.

“What?” You asked.

His voice became low and gravely. “We’re gonna pull that shirt up’n lemme see those titties.”

You took a deep breath, and in the time you took to hesitate, he stepped into your personal space. “Uncross those pretty stems, darlin’.”

You obediently uncrossed your legs, and he spread your knees gently with his dirty hands as he got close enough for you to smell the beer on his breath, the stench of his sweat, and the memory of cigarettes.

Getting wet with your knees spread, you were glad to provide the distraction of showing your tits.

“Lift your arms," he directed.

You did, and he gently slid his thick, grubby fingers under the sides of your shirt. He lifted the shirt and let out a low whistle as your tits fell out. “Well God damn, even prettier than I thought.” You braced your hands behind you and watched his face as you let him have a look. It was hot to think of him jacking off to these photos later.

He glanced to your eyes and you didn’t stop him from nudging the bottom of your breasts with his thumbs, watching them swell upward.

“God damn,” he whispered. “You’re gonna be the death of me, sugar.”

After snapping a pic, he directed you in a couple of poses for more pics, then stood and looked you up and down.

“One more. You’re gonna show me your panties.”

What panties? God, by this point you were so wet, the crotch of your jeans had to be soaked through.

“No panties, huh?” He asked. “Well, lemme see your bush.”

When you hesitated, he comforted you, “That’s okay, darlin’. Sorry, you’re just so damn pretty.”

But you weren't off the hook.

“One more thing, okay? Bring those pretty legs up, put your feet on the truck,” he patted the tailgate.

You did as he instructed and could smell your own arousal. He inhaled sharply through his nose as he looked between your legs and raised his eyebrows.

You looked down and away.

“Here,” he offered and put his cowboy hat on you. “Hide your face if it makes ya feel better.”

It did, a little.

He took a pic with the hat tipped down, covering your face, shirt still pulled up over your tits, legs spread wide, and a wet mess peeking out from behind the darkened crotch of your shorts.

“Smell good enough to eat,” he mumbled as he slipped the photo in his pocket and got in your personal space. “Mind if I take some for the road?”

“What?” You asked

He slid his hand up your thigh and nudged the soaked denim aside. Your skin erupted in goosebumps and your loins throbbed with need.

“Your hands are dirty,” you said.

“Shhhh, It’s okay, sugar,” he coaxed you as his fingers met your slick. He lightly ran his digits through your sticky mess, then deep growl left his chest as he slid a finger inside, making you spasm. His mouth fell open as he added another. “God damn,” he whispered.

Headlights approached in the distance, shaking him from his trance.

“Hey, you know my name?” he asked as he withdrew his hand, fingers all shiny. You put your legs back together and hopped down off the truck.

“How would I know your name,” you asked, trying not to look at the bulge in his jeans.

He closed the tailgate.

“Well it’s on my uniform, darlin’.” He looked hurt. “See me all the time, even said hi once.”

“Sorry.”

“Eh, no hard feelings. Name’s Joel Miller.”

You shared your first name, and he nodded as he added your last name and said, “yeah, I know, sugar.” He turned and walked away, leaving his hat with you.

Your heart raced, and when he got in his truck, you half expected him to return with a shotgun and take you with him. But he drove off into the sunset, dust trailing behind him.

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btw you must have seen him on campus before he got this hot new uniform

Thank you for reading! If you say what you liked (or Lbr if you say anything lmao) you'll make my day ❤️

[not-so-mundane-after-all]

I know plenty of people have already made a version of the "Jinx is alive" theory post but I've also seen so many of you mourn her death that I decided to gather all the evidence and make another post, turning this theory into a fact.

Because Jinx is alive. It's not a speculation. It's literally there.

The first thing I'm going to mention are the context clues Jinx gives herself. First, the last thing the ghost of Silco tells her. I think the cycle only ends when you find the will to walk away. Then, the realization she comes to when Vi hugs her in the cell. You're never gonna give up on me, are you? What she tells Vi after she leaves her in that cell. You don't need to worry about me anymore. [...] And yes, her initial plan is to kill herself, because she thinks the only way for Vi to move on is for her to be gone. And Ekko gets there just in time to stop her but it looks like he doesn't convince her to abandon her plan, just change it.

And later, when she joins Vi in the final fight. What does she tell her? Still don't get it, huh, sis? I'm always with you. Even when we're worlds apart.

Everything that happens after is constructed specifically to let us and Vi believe that Jinx died. Until we get to this scene:

Caitlyn is studying the Hexgates designs.

She's looking through the pages depicting the place where the final fight happened, specifically focusing on the air vent shafts, while toying with a monkey bomb head - the same monkey bomb that Jinx used in her supposed last monents.

She looks down at the monkey...

Watch the eyes. The realization hits her...

And she smirks, knowing. Jinx used one of the air vents to escape before the explosion.

I've studied the explosion frame by frame. First, a small yellow explosion goes off - Jinx sets off the monkey bomb.

As it becomes bigger, she shoots out of there

this is still the beginning of the blast when we can still see her, and the big boom that destroys everything starts 10 frames later

Last context clue is a reference to the very first episode, which is clearly depicted in this gifset here, so instead of explaining, I'll just send you there to check for yourselves.

One thing that is speculation here is, how exactly did Caitlyn come into possession of the monkey bomb head? I doubt she found it there because it would have been turned to dust. And I'm thinking, Jinx took it with her and left it for Cait to find as a clue. She didn't want Vi to know but maybe she wanted Cait to figure it out. I imagine her sneaking into her house and maybe leaving it somewhere for Cait to find, like her desk or something. It gives Cait an idea, a gut feeling she needs to check, and that allows her to figure it out. Just like we are supposed to figure it out on our own.

Bottom line, Jinx is alive. She escaped the explosion through the air vents, then boarded the airship and left the city, convinced that the only way to give her sister a happy ending is to take herself out of the equation. The glitching closing shot saying The End in Jinx's colorful handwriting is a sign that she is telling us that this is where this story ends, like she's saying "don't look for me. It's over." That's also probably why we aren't shown what Caitlyn does with the information she now possesses.

I hope this helps take away from the grief 💙

[jewish-sideblog]

I think people forget that the Nazis never said they were the bad guys. If someone says, hey, I’m evil! You don’t let them take over your country. They presented themselves as scientific, not hateful. By their own account, they were progressives, and the superiority of White Europe over the other races was a proven and immutable fact. They had scientists and archaeologists and historians to prove it. They didn’t tell people they wanted to kill the Jews because they were hateful. They manufactured evidence to frame us for very real tragedies, and they had methodological research to prove that we were genetically predisposed to misconduct. Wouldn’t you believe that?

Hollywood has spent the last 80 years portraying the Nazis as an obvious and intimidating evil. That’s a good thing in some ways, because we want general audiences to recognize that they were evil. But we also want them to be able to recognize how and why they came to power. Not by self-describing themselves as an evil empire, but by convincing people that they were the good guys and the saviors. They hosted the Olympics. Several European countries capitulated and volunteered themselves to the Empire. There were American and British Fascist Parties. They had broad public support. Hollywood never shows that part, so general audiences never learn to recognize the actual signs of antisemitism.

People today think they can’t possibly be antisemitic, because they’re leftist! They abhor bigotry! They could never comprehend Nazi ideology coming from the mouth of a bisexual college student wearing a graphic tee and jeans. How could they? The only depiction of antisemites they’ve ever seen have been gaunt, pale, middle-aged men in black leather trench coats with skulls on their caps.

If the Nazis time-travelled from the 1930s and wanted to take power now, they’d change their original tactics, but not by much. They would target countries suffering from an identity crisis and an economic collapse. They would portray themselves as the pinnacle of what that society considers progressive. Back then, it was race science. These days it’s performative wokeness. Once they’d garnered enough respect and reputation, they’d begin manufacturing propaganda and lies to manipulate people’s anger and fears at a single target— Jews.

If the Nazis made an actual return, they wouldn’t look like neo-Nazis. They wouldn’t be nearly as obvious about their hatred. Their evil wouldn’t give them yellow eyes, and no suspenseful music would play when they walked in the room. They’d be friendly. They’d look like you. They would learn what things your community fears and what things you already hate. They would lie and fabricate evidence to connect the rich elites and the imperialists you revile to a single source of unequivocal Jewish evil. It wouldn’t be hard— they already have two-thousand years of institutional antisemitism they can rely on to paint their picture.

If you’re curious why antisemitism today is coming from grassroots organizations, young, liberal college campuses, suburban neighborhoods with pride flags and All Are Welcome Here signs? That’s why. It’s because, as a global society, we’ve forgotten that the world didn’t used to see the Nazis as bad guys. And what is forgotten about history is doomed to be repeated.

[erwinsvow]

rafe’s the jealous type, though you had never seen it coming. he was your friend, just like topper and kelce, but somehow, it was never really like it was with the other two. you tried to ignore it for as long as you could, for the sake of the friendship, but it was getting to be too much.

you weren’t even his friend first. working as a summer intern for topper’s mom had led to a few chance encounters already with the boys when they’d drop by. it wasn’t until his mom insisted he take you along that you got to know them a little bit more. you were surprised at how well the four of you got along, even though rafe seemed opposed to you tagging along at first.

but you think you’d won him over in the next few weeks, and now months later, you could easily argue that you were the closest with rafe now. it was pretty apparent—he drove you everywhere, picked you up first and let you have permanent shotgun. when you need to crash after the party runs late, you always end up back at tannyhill, topper and kelce passed out on the couch downstairs or the floor of the guest room, always leaving the bed empty since they think you’ll be crawling in—though you never do. no, you’re asleep next to rafe on his bed, tangled limbs and sheets, waking up wondering if cuddling with your best friend was normal for everyone.

but you’ve never really had guy friends, so you ignore some of the warning signs. you think they’re overprotective, overcaring. you shove aside the thought creeping up, reminding you that only rafe acts like that towards you. you’ve convinced yourself it’s normal.

you’re always invited to tee time—though you mostly sit in the cart with your legs resting on the dash, reading your book and daydrinking. you think the outfits are cute, tiny golf skirts and matching caps, and it gave you an excuse to take the boys shopping—your favorite activity. 

rafe steps away to take a call and comes back to find you on the course, hands slowly trying out a nine-iron while kelce stands behind you, trying to guide your position. 

“no, plant your feet. firm, and then when you swing, twist like this-” it only takes another second, kelce’s hands barely settling on your waist to help you move, when rafe snaps.

“you’re shit at golf anyways, kelce, why’re you showin’ her?” you’re a little taken aback that he’s being so mean, but kelce just rolls his eyes, walking over to top while rafe heads to you. 

rafe doesn’t hesitate at all, doesn’t try to be polite and not creepy like kelce was. his hands go straight on your waist, lower to your hips. he presses himself right behind you, taking your hands in his to help you swing. with his help, you actually hit the golf ball this time, sending it flying in the distance. you squeal, jumping up and down and hugging rafe. you don’t catch the way kelce and topper exchange a look.

other days it’s a little more confusing. you think rafe just changes his mind a lot. 

you pack enough lunch for an army—which is just a necessity with the way these boys eat. topper’s just gotten some new fancy boat, and sarah’s busy so he invites you and kelce to take it for a spin instead. 

“rafe’s not coming?” you question on the phone, looking at the strawberries and peaches you’d cut up specially for him. you don’t know why you feel so disappointed—top says he’s busy with his dad, which is more important. your mood dampens up a little but picks up soon—you love spending time with kelce and topper anyways! you think you’re single-handedly fixing tops’s relationship with sarah and turning kelce into boyfriend material for this girl he’s had a crush on forever.

at the marina, you walk around looking for this new boat, the words top had used to describe it meaning little to you. you’re a little dolled up already, a pretty white coverup hiding a yellow bikini, a new one you’d just gotten. actually, rafe had bought it for you. he said he wanted you to have it.

“what you lookin’ for, kid?” you hear a familiar voice call out from behind you. you turn to see rafe, stepping off the druthers onto the dock with you.

“i thought top said you’re busy?” you ask, looking around.

“i am. what’re you doin’ here?”

“top said he’s bringing his new boat out. i’m supposed to meet kelce and him here but i can’t find it, wake, uh, something. i packed lunch,” you finish, holding up the picnic basket. “but i know he said you can’t come, such a bummer-”

“i’m comin’.” 

“huh? he just told me-” “i’m takin’ the druthers out. c’mon, hop on. i bet those idiots sunk that thing already.”

you end up spending the whole day on boat with rafe—reading your book and eating slices of peach while talking to rafe about everything under the sun. top and kelce blow up your phone but you don’t even see it until you pick it up to take a picture of the sunset.

you finally realize something’s going on at the house party at kelce’s. rafe picks you up and you play with the skinny straps of your dress, wondering how to tell him what you’re thinking. he’s a good friend though—he always knows when you get like this.

“spit it out, kid. what?”

“well, i was thinking maybe i should crash at kelce’s tonight.”

“why?” he questions, like it’s the stupidest thing in the world. you don’t catch the way his grip tightens on the wheel. 

“well, last night.. everyone was saying it’s weird that i always crash at yours. and kelce always offers, he’s got that pull out bed-”

“y’not sleepin’ at kelce’s. or top’s.”

“why not?”

“‘cause i said so. don’t ask again.” and though you’re used to getting your way, you listen. at the party once you get a few drinks in you, you find your way back to the sofa where rafe’s exchanging packets of white powder for cash. you end up next to him, legs splayed over his and dress riding up, watching kelce and topper play pong with some people you don’t recognize. 

“m’tired,” you mumble, playing with your empty red solo cup. only rafe hears you.

“shouldn’t have drank so much so fast. what’s wrong with you, hm?”

“just tryna feel better.. and you won’t let me try coke so-”

“shut up about the coke. not gettin’ anywhere near the stuff.”

“you let kelce and top do it-”

“you’re not kelce and top. how much clearer do i have to make it?” your eyes fill with tears—you’re trying so hard to not be such a girl, but everyone has their limits.

“well, you’re not my boyfriend, so i don’t have to listen to you-” it comes out louder, getting the attention of your friends. kelce and topper exchange a look, wondering if what they’ve been waiting for is about to happen. you don’t want them to see you cry, so you run off into the opposite direction towards kelce’s empty room.

“nice going, rafe.”

“yeah, man, she’s definitely gonna fall in love with you after that.”

“shut up.” 

rafe follows you, knows where you went. he knocks on the door, twisting the handle even before you get a chance to respond. 

“go away, rafe.” you sit on kelce’s bed, staring down at your shoes. rafe come and crouches near you, putting his hands on your knees to keep you firmly in place, even though you try to pull away.

“hey, c’mon, kid. m’sorry. there, you happy now?”

“you’re a dick. leave me alone-”

“i’m fuckin’ trying, here, okay-” you stand up, pushing him away. “trying to do what? make our friendship all weird? mission-fucking-accomplished, because i can tell you don’t want me around, so i’m-” you get interrupted, rafe rushing up to you and forcing you into a kiss. his arms tighten around your waist, holding you hard. you melt into his touch, kissing him back. things are making more sense now.

“and watch your mouth with me.”

“shut up. you don’t know anything.” you lean back for another kiss.

“guys,” kelce yells out from outside the door. “please do not have sex on my bed.”