#then it doesn't match up with reality at all

[respectthepetty]

To begin episode ten of Jack & Joker with Jack and Joke laying in Jack's bed with his color on them (not a euphemism) and Joke's color disregarded on his bed hurts a bit in retrospect knowing how it all ends in that hospital waiting room.

Because although Jack was much lighter the next day, and Joke was back in his signature red,

The color quickly started draining from the community.

So while Joke wanted Jack to live happily in their little colorful bubble the same way Rose attempted before with Jack, everyone else was losing their color adjusting to their new realities.

Joke has always been quick to abandoned his color in preference for Jack's, so it was nice to see that the sign they made incorporated both of their colors, and their daughter, in pink, was the love between them.

So the boys continued to live in their colorful bubble

But, once again, just as Aran immediately pointed out about Rose's grand entrance,

This little colorful bubble is all fake.

So as much as I was thrilled that Aran made matching buttons for Tattoo to wear with him that incorporated a blue background and red heart for the main couple ,

It wasn't long before Aran willingly gave up his heart to Hoy. And I think that is important. Nobody is really being selfish here. They continue to do everything for others, and they sacrifice for others. Aran gave his button to Hoy so he wouldn't be sad. Tattoo stole the necklace so his mom wouldn't get hurt. Joke stole the ring so Jack could be free.

Jack is lighter, so obviously it worked! But I think this is also why the color is draining from all the others as well. They are community, so their colors align as they have matured, which brown represents.

But brown is also a sign of decay and sadness, so even when Jack and Joke (and Aran) try to escape being part of a community and live selfishly in their own happy bubble, the hurt of the community will still seep through.

They can't just simply walk away from it.

So it's amazing that the kids are the brightest of the bunch.

They are impacted just as much as the adults, but where the adults are resigned to the fact that this life, the kids still have color and the willingness to fight, together.

Joke with a little of his red had to convince to group of adults to fight together because as Hoy said, it's easier to fight as hundreds against an army of ten, and when Toi Ting came up with a plan, the other kids quickly followed their leader.

Which is why I think Aran is so important to this plot. His father is gaining power like Thanos, and his aunt has directly and indirectly helped him attain it, but even though Aran wants to run away from the fight, he continues to stay and help the community when he doesn't have to. He started off selfish, yet he gives Hoy his heart when he doesn't have to. He makes Jack a hat. He helps Joke steal the ring. He is part of this community. But he is also the outcome of his family.

Boss and Nang are two extremes. The reveal that they are siblings who parents died due to the Four Horsemen's actions makes their dynamic more interesting because they have dealt with this trauma in completely different ways. Nang, in her white, tells her followers to abandon the power money has over them by ridding themselves of their possessions, while Boss, in his black, decided inheriting power through oppressing others was the only way to achieve success.

Yet Nang helped her brother. Several times. So regardless of what she wanted, she still helped the person she loves just like all these other characters have done.

And just like everyone else, the consequences are dire.

Aran has proven that a person can't be selfish like his father but a person shouldn't sacrifice their entire life for others like Nang. There must be a balance. He couldn't sacrifice himself and marry Rose for his dad, and he is still true to himself while helping others in the ways he can.

He knows that sometimes, the best way to support others is by simply being there for them, which is something he never got without paying people.

So in the end, Joke, who is at his lowest in that hospital waiting room, has the hands of his friends on him to comfort him in his time of need.

And Jack, even though alone in his grief, is still wearing Joke's red.

No man is an island.

And nobody can change the world on his own.

Because people need people. People need to know they are supported and loved. People need to know they aren't being judged and that their burdens can be shared.

And Aran has shown that.

Because Tattoo helped him understand it.

[cantgetworsethanthistbh]

stancest prompt :3 teen! stans getting handsy in the locker room after a boxing match

another one im combining together and um anon sorry this took soooo long, im gomma be honest this was my most excited to write but it turned out sm more experimental than i expected. not sure about the end result but i suppose i could always write a second version because i just had too many ideas for this one in particular lmaooo I went with Ford having some secret sadism he is very badly repressing so thats where the freaky style comes in

And uh, another ford pov. ive gotta write one in stans eventually lmao

~~

Ford never liked boxing lessons.

He never liked that the air was rich with sweat and dust barely ventilated through the hotbox of a gym, leaving every kid melting into pools of themselves. He never liked the sounds of rubber gloves meeting skin in vicious smacks. He never liked how their god awful, shitty coach would pit his favorites against the littlest guys of the rack, watching the big kids pummel new and inexperienced in some sick delusion that he was honing their skills but really, he was nothing more than a bully letting other bullies have a sick little power trip. Ford has been on the opposite side of those fists, in and out of the ring. He knows how this works, he knows how it plays out.

If there was one thing to like about boxing lessons, it was how getting called a "freak" im the middle of a match had gotten him a couple unsavory wins (but wins nonetheless) himself through sheer rage. Ford hadn't cared about playing fair then— he doesn't have anything to prove. Not to them.

Stan would usually agree, but this is where another one of their most fundamental differences rises: Stan loves boxing.

Ford doesn't know why, nor can he truly begin to fathom how. Back when they were children, Stan had a bigger target on his back for their instructors to send their seasoned trainees after. He was tempermental, but he didn't have Ford's wit and only ever swung his fists around desperately. He got provoked into losing his focus so easily, one second he's standing, the other he's being pinned on the mat. He was always the stronger twin between them, sure, but what's good with being a strong kid in a room full of stronger kids? Most of all: he was an emotional wreck after losing, which happened really often.

Stan fell hard and cried harder. And he was beaten down for it even more in the ring, and even outside of it. Moses knows their father didn't take Stan 'embarrassing' the family very well.

And Ford knows the way he used to have swab cotton and disinfectant onto his brother's swelling face.

Ford never liked that. Ford hated that.

But Stan didn't. Stan always came back, barely healed and raring for more

And now—

"And the winner— Stanley Pines!"

The name call catches Ford off guard, dragging him back into reality as the crowd around them whoops excitedly. Up in the ring, Stan is pumping his fists in a little victory lap while his opponent slinked off to the opposite corner. Ford scans, his attention on Stan's body, seeing the usual bruises that would litter his sweaty chest and broad shoulders, some landing even on his jaw. Stan rips his gloves off and spits out his mouthguard and that's when Ford sees it.

There's a cut on his top lip, small but red and angry, bleeding into his mouth. Stan's eyes meet Ford's and he grins, not bothered by the injury as soon as he saw his brother, teeth stained red and wet with blood and spit.

For whatever unholy reason, Ford's stomach stirs at the sight of it, an aching need popping but not that Ford knows what that need actually is. The need to take care of Stan again? The need to strangle Stan because even though he clearly doesn't need these classes anymore, he still keeps going? The need to take Stan by the shoulders and—

Then Stan winks at Ford. And that makes Ford's body stiffen, skin burning, making the quiet twist in his gut deepen further.

"And you're going to drop out after this, right?"

They're in the locker room, lucky to have it all to themselves after everyone else has packed up and left after the final fight. Something had come up in shop and their parents hadn't been able to watch Stan's match, but Stan was excited to retell his great victory or whatever it is. That's not Ford's priority, and hell it shouldn't even be Stan's.

"Wha?" Stan asks incredously, to which Stanford immediately muffles with a damp towel pressing against his lip. The bleeding has slowed down enough for Ford to finally focus on after checking the other bruises and inspecting the rest of Stan's body for any more injuries before he showers. There wasn't any more, thank God, but Ford hates having to check in the first place. His brother's casual confusion ate at his nerves now too, as if Ford said something ridiculous, or he just didn't hear Ford right.

Well, Ford has no issue repeating.

"You're going to stop taking boxing classes, right?" Ford say again. Stan's brow furrowed in confusion, which Ford ignores, as he carefully dabs at his lip. "I mean, at this point it's just pointless to keep it up when you've been going for years."

"Pff, as if. I ain't stopping now," Stan replies, and Ford frowns. "Why would I?"

"Stan... you're bleeding. You're hurt."

Stan chuckles. "Yeah? I always am after a match. Earth to Super Genius Poindexter: the point is to hit each other."

"You shouldn't be bleeding this much," Ford says, gesturing to his brother's face, the cut open lip.

"Aw, Sixer, you've seen worse on my face than that, and look at it. Still prettier than yours."

"Ha, ha. Very funny." Ford huffs, annoyed that Stan clearly isn't taking this seriously. Of course Ford has seen worse, has taken care of Stan when it was worse, but it doesn't mean he likes it. It doesn't mean he likes watching Stan get pummeled even if he wins. Doesn't mean he likes that Stan is sore and winded out after a match. Doesn't mean he likes seeing his brother sweaty and exhausted and turning to Ford's hands for care and comfort, malleable into whatever Ford could want.

He doesn't like that. At all.

Stan chuckles. "I got a match next Thursday, I can't stop now!"

Ford pouts, not understanding how that could possibly more important to Stan than his own brother's request. As if he's saying he doesn't believe that stopping his lessons, stopping this, is what Ford would actually want. Which is—

"Besides," Stan interrupts his train of thought, leaning into Ford slightly, palm on the bench they occupied. "You know I ain't mind the pain, whatever it is you're freaking out about. I'm used to it."

"Stan—"

"In fact," Stan continues, using that voice he pulls to mock Ford's use of that very phrase. He grins that bloody, toothed grin again. "I kinda like it."

The twist in Ford's gut tightens once more, and all he can think is fine. Fine.

Taking his free hand to the back of Stan's neck, he crushes his mouth against Stan's, ignoring his twin's pained gasp when the split lip comes in hard contact with Ford's. He doesn't push or pull away, and doesn't protest when Ford doesn't let up, kissing him and sucking on his lips like a man on a mission. The rich, rusty tang of blood lands on his tongue, filling up his mouth and Ford moans against Stan.

Stan barely exhales out of amusement. "I knew you were into freaky stuff like that."

"Shut up."

Smashing their mouths again, Ford drops the towel in his hand to run hands through the sweat drenched hair. Practically crawling onto Stan's lap, his warm, meaty thighs under his ass. God. Ford's been waiting for this. If anything was worth sitting through another one of those matches it was seeing his brother, dripping with sweat and bulging with muscles.

And having him all alone in his hands for 'immediate care'.

And feeling his hips grind against Stan's own underneath him  or having Stan's hand around his leaking cock while they finish each other in the confines of the locker room like they have so many times before.

Cupping Stanley's face and craning his neck up, pulling him into a deeper kiss while Stan's hands go under his shirt, calloused hands on Ford's back and belly and squeeze. Ford makes a sound at the back of his throat, making him ache for some kind of retaliation. Instead of allowing Stan's prodding tongue access, Ford pulls back, taking Stan's bottom lip in his teeth and biting down. Hard. Stan jolts underneath him.

"Ow. Fuck, Ford."

"Oh, I though you liked that?" Ford sarcastically quips, not waiting  to hear the "yeah, yeah, keep going" to continue kissing and abusing Stan's already injured lips. Blood is in his mouth again from the earlier cut, and damn it it tastes good and it feels good. It's raw. Violent.

For a second Ford almost felt the appeal of the sport itself. The primal and animalistic need to hurt someone asking for it presents itself in Ford in hearing the pained moans Stan makes the more he roughly grinds his hips and presses fingers into bruises and nip at his lips and pull at his hair. It's cathartic, and it twists sparks in him like a lightning bolt, setting nerves on fire.

And this time Ford caused it to Stan. His dick is straining against his pants, begging for release, with Stan's hand rubbing against him through the fabric. Ford's own were running over his bruised, sweaty skin and sore muscles that he hadn't realized that Stan hadn't even showered yet. But Ford is going to need one too when they're done anyway, so he pulls the band of Stan's shorts enough to release his hard cock. Stan unbuttons his own pants, eyes on their cocks now, licking at his red, abused lips while Ford steadies himself on his shoulder, touching them both into completion.

"Ford..." Stan mutters adoringly and Stanford just loves the way he lets Ford take care of him like this, loves the way he goes weak in Ford's hands. Loves the way he shakes while he comes Ford's hands, and loves the way Stan obeys while Ford drags him to the shower, ready to arrive home late after another good match.

Ford liked that. Ford loved that. And he dislikes boxing lessons a little less everytime.

[grandpeachpersona]

It's A Man's World Chapter 4 (Drip)

a/n: I rewrote this chapter 2 or 3 times. I personally think it's not my best, but I hope you like it let me know in my ask ;)

Daft Day

Here we are, the anticipation of Draft Day hanging thick in the air. Don’t even think about asking me what happened after the party or the following day—I honestly can’t remember. I really should add "Don’t Party with the Bengals" to my ever-growing list of things to avoid.

A knock pulls me out of my thoughts “Hey Sierra, you ready? Kyle is here!” Joe’s voice calls out from the other side of the bathroom door, breaking my moment of reflection. 

I do one last check in the mirror, smoothing down my hair and adjusting my outfit before reluctantly opening the door. “Yeah, I’m ready,” I reply, a hint of excitement mixed with nerves in my tone.

“What do you think?”  I asked as I stepped out of the bathroom. I do a little spin to show off my ensemble. I had chosen not to wear a dress, instead opting for a tailored black blazer adorned with elegant gold decorations cascading down the shoulders. Paired with a sleek, short skirt featuring matching gold accents that gave a hint of sparkle, I feel chic and ready for the moment. To complete the look, I slipped on a pair of black heels that added just the right amount of height. 

He looks at me from his spot on the couch “You look stunning just missing one thing” he says as he gets up and approaches me. He reaches up and takes the of his chain off his neck “Turn around” he tells me. 

This boy here is doing things to my soul and he just doesn't even know it. Doing as he says I turn around and he puts his chain on me. He turns me back around “Now you dripping in gold”  

Shaking my head unable to find words I grab my clutch as he moves away and opens the door “Come on Ja’marr and Mia are waiting on us.”

When we arrived at the arena. One of the crew members led us to a section where Mia and Ja’marr were waiting for us.   

We exchange warm hugs and enthusiastic hellos, settling in comfortably on the plush couch. As I take a moment to look around the room, I can't help but notice the sea of nervous excitement among the crowd of players, all waiting for their futures to unfold during the draft. Suddenly, a rush of nerves hits me, and I start shaking my leg unconsciously, trying to calm my racing thoughts.

In my fidgeting, I unintentionally nudge Mia, who looks over at me with concern. “Hey, you okay?” she asks, her brow slightly furrowed.

I nod and glance at her, taking a deep breath. “Yeah, just a bit nervous,” I admit, trying to shake off the anxiety.

She grabs my hand “Just breathe you probably have all 32 teams gunning for you” she reassures me “Any team you're specifically looking for?” Ja’marr questioned. I shake my head “Not really although I would love to go back home and play for the Cardinals don't think I'd grow too much there” I respond with a shrug.

‘Hey maybe the Reds will draft her that way she can't leave Cincinnati” Joe pipes in with a laugh. 

I looked back at him “Naw me cold weather don't get along” 

“Girl no weather and you get along” Mia interjects we all laugh because she is right Winter, Spring, Summer, and Fall if I wasn't playing baseball you have to catch me in the comforts of my bed. 

As we continue to share laughs and stories, the lights suddenly dim, and a dynamic video package begins to play on the large screen, showcasing the highs of previous seasons and the promise of new talent.

The energy in the room surges as the hype package concludes, and the spotlight shifts to the stage. The commissioner of the MLB, Rob Manfred, strides confidently onto the platform, radiating authority and excitement.

“Hello and welcome to the 2021 MLB Draft!” he announces, his voice echoing throughout the arena. “Tonight, we usher in a new era of baseball. You all have worked tirelessly for this moment, and now it’s time to see your dreams become reality. Let’s get started, shall we?” Rob declares from the podium, setting the stage for an unforgettable night.

The first round has concluded, and the results are in—nothing for me. 

As the second round begins, the atmosphere remains tense, and yet, I cling to the flicker of hope that perhaps my name will be called. 

When the third round rolls around, I hear another name—a person named Riley is chosen. My heart sinks as I realize I’m still overlooked. 

Now, as the fourth round draws closer, a wave of anxiety washes over me. I navigate through the crowd, feeling the pulse of anticipation in the air. I approach the bar, the gleaming surface reflecting my apprehension, and the bartender looks up, asking, “What can I get you?”

“Whiskey, straight, please. Thank you,” I respond, my voice steady yet laced with underlying nerves.

She nods, her movements fluid as she prepares my drink. “Coming right up,” she says, and moments later, she slides the glass toward me.

I inhale deeply, trying to release some of the built-up tension. “Thank you,” I say, accepting the drink from her with a slight, grateful smile. 

As I take a generous sip, the smooth warmth of the whiskey hits my stomach, providing a momentary reprieve from my anxious thoughts. Just then, I have the unsettling sensation that someone is watching me intently. Turning my head to the right, I lock eyes with a man making his way over, and his approach feels predatory as if I’m the target in his sights.

“I hope I'm not intruding,” he begins, leaning against the bar with a casual confidence, “but I must say, you look absolutely stunning tonight.” His tone is suave, designed to charm.

I muster a polite smile, aware that I want to deflect this interaction as quickly as possible. “Thank you,” I say, deliberately avoiding his gaze, trying to focus on anything but him.

“My name’s Chris,” he introduces himself, extending his hand toward me with an expectant grin. I glance at his hand, assessing the situation, before shaking my head gently. “Sorry, Chris, but I’m really not interested,” I reply softly, retreating into my glass as I seek refuge in my drink.

He draws back his hand and smirks playfully at me, his confidence evident. “Playing hard to get, I see,” he teases, leaning slightly closer.

I shake my head firmly, dismissing him. “Nope, just not looking for any extra company,” I reply, keeping my tone plain and simple as I mentally strategize my exit from this awkward interaction.

“You sure? You just seem tense,” he probes, inching even closer for comfort.

Before I can formulate a response, I suddenly feel a reassuring hand pressed against the middle of my back. A familiar voice cuts through the noise. “Wonder where you drifted off to. You okay?” Joe asks, his concern palpable.

I turn my head to face him, grateful for his interruption. “Yeah, I’m good. I just needed something to calm my nerves,” I respond, a sense of relief washing over me as his presence provides a buffer.

Joe nods, his expression softening. He motions with his head toward our group. “Come on,” he says, gently leading the way while keeping his hand on my back—a gesture that provides unexpected comfort. As we return to our section and settle into the couch, I lean closer to Joe and whisper, “Thank you.”

Joe takes a seat beside me, casually draping his arm behind me on the back of the couch. His protective stance envelops me in a sense of security.

“Not a problem,” he replies, though there’s a slight edge to his voice that piques my curiosity. 

Was he feeling jealous?

I don’t have much time to ponder this question, as the lights in the venue dim once again, signaling the beginning of the fourth round of the MLB Draft. The anticipation in the air is almost electric.

Rob makes his way back to the podium, confidence radiating from him. “Alright, with the first pick of the fourth round of the 2021 MLB Draft, the Atlanta Braves select…” He glances down at his card, and a broad smile spreads across his face, crafting suspense in the room.

“Sierra Riley, shortstop out of LSU!”

The moment his words register, my heart races. I can hardly believe my ears. Suddenly, everyone around me is on their feet, applauding and cheering, and I feel like I’m floating. Someone pinch me, please—I must be dreaming!

As I stand up, I look at Mia, my heart pounding with disbelief, and mouth the words, “What the hell?” She chuckles, sharing in my incredulity. Joe steps aside, allowing me a clear path to the stage. As I stroll past him, he encourages me with a smile, saying, “Get ’em, superstar!”

I can’t help but grin back at him as I make my way to the stage, ascending the steps with a mixture of excitement and nerves. At the top, I’m greeted by Justin Bell, the manager of the Atlanta Braves, who stands ready with a baseball jersey and a Braves cap.

With a beaming smile, I approach him and wrap my arms around him in a brief hug. “Thank you so much!” I exclaim, my voice filled with genuine appreciation.

He pulls back slightly, maintaining eye contact as he responds, “You’re very welcome, Sierra.” Justin then carefully places the baseball cap on my head, his hands steady as he unfolds the jersey to reveal my last name and number, now emblazoned on a Braves jersey.

At that moment, words escape me entirely, and I shake my head in disbelief, overwhelmed by the reality of it all. Just then, I feel another hand on my shoulder. I turn to see the commissioner standing beside me, a warm smile on his face. “Congrats, Sierra,” he says, genuine joy in his voice.

“Thank you,” I manage to say, still absorbing the significance of this incredible moment. The commissioner's voice breaks through the fog of excitement as he gestures toward the cameras, encouraging me to pose with the jersey. I reflexively smile, showcasing my pride.

As I scan the room, my eyes land on Joe, whose face is illuminated by a broad smile. I see Mia, her eyes glistening with tears of joy, and Ja’marr cheering enthusiastically, like he’s at a football game.

In that instant, it hits me: all the hard work, the sacrifices, and the endless dedication truly do pay off.

As I made my way backstage, the atmosphere buzzed with excitement. One of the reporters from ESPN, eager and enthusiastic, pulled me aside for an interview.

"Sierra Riley, congratulations! You've just made history as the first woman ever to be drafted in Major League Baseball. Can you describe how you’re feeling at this moment?" she inquired, her eyes gleaming with curiosity.

I couldn't help but smile widely. "Thank you so much! Honestly, I feel incredibly blessed right now," I said, taking a moment to gather my thoughts. "It’s overwhelming, and part of me feels like my brain hasn’t fully processed everything yet,” I laughed lightly, shaking my head in disbelief. “But overall, I feel fantastic!"

The reporter leaned in for his next question, clearly intrigued. "What should Atlanta Braves fans expect from you moving forward?"

With confidence, I responded, "I hope they can expect all great things! I want them to know that I don’t take any of this for granted. This moment is huge for me, but it’s just the beginning of my story. I’m ready to work hard and make my mark!"

She nodded in appreciation, her face reflecting genuine excitement. "Thank you once again, and congratulations on this incredible achievement!” she exclaimed brightly before walking away, leaving me buzzing with a mix of joy and anticipation for what lay ahead.

Atlanta here I come.

Chapter 4...Batter Up...

[ziggysarcana]

Ludwig's gaze softened as Brook spoke, and he let out a small chuckle -- one that sounded almost surprised. Not a laugh of mockery but of true appreciation. Appreciation that he was actually understanding how he felt quite well. He tilted his head and a small smile tugged at his lips as he shook his head. "No, don't worry about it," his voice was warm and almost relieved. "You're not wrong, you know. It's like starting from.... Scraps? Scratch. Like trying to see the world as it truly is when all you've seen it through was the skinny..." No that wasn't the right word either "Like you've only seen the world through a narrow lens." Ludwig wasn't offended or off put by what he said, in fact the opposite was true, had appreciated what he had said. He could always appreciate when people said what they were thinking or how they felt. "Yes, a second childhood!" He beamed now, "Except this time I get to pick my costume." Well, in East Germany they didn't really celebrate halloween but he left out that tidbit to avoid veering the conversation into a depressing rabbit hole.

He couldn't help but smile at the mention of his mother's accent, it struck a chord with him. "It's funny how certain things stick with you, huh? Even when you're not thinking about them. Like little reminders of who we are." His eyebrow raised, pleased with himself as the other man laughed at his own ridiculous New Yorker impression. "Hey, I appreciate you saying that! If I can bring laughter, that's all I can ask for. It's part of the charm, you could say."

Ludwig's tone shifted when the conversation turned to Brook's homeland, "I get it. It's always the worry -- what if the reality doesn't match up to the fantasy we have in our head? But you never know until you take the plunge. Maybe you've overhyped it, or maybe not. But you'll never get the answer until you see it with your own two eyes." He paused for a moment, leaning in conspiratorially, "Sometimes, that leap? It's the best way to grow."

Ludwig wasn’t like Brook had imagined at all. He was extremely handsome, but he had this goofy side that Brook found really endearing, and it was like his smile was infectious. As Ludwig talked about his costume, the glee on his face had Brook smiling just as wide - and it helped that Ludwig had said he’d make a cute lumberjack. But then Brook saw the way Ludwig’s attitude changed, how he talked about some of the struggles of growing up where he did, and Brook felt for the guy. “That must have been really hard,” he said. “Even if you didn’t quite know what you were missing at the time, just the restrictions and all of that. It’s like living in black in white when the rest of the world is in color.” Then Brook thought that might have been going too far, so he apologized, “I’m sorry. That was kind of harsh. I mean, that’s your home. I shouldn’t be talking about it that way.” He hoped he had offended Ludwig. “I think that makes sense though,” Brook added. “It’s like you’re experiencing a second childhood.”

Glad to be on a happy memory again, Brook laughed at Ludwig’s remark. “We’ll have to make sure that doesn’t happen so we can keep you alive,” he said with a laugh. “But you know, I bet the hangover was worth the celebration.” When Ludwig explained how he could tell that he was Romanian, Brook replied, “You know, that makes sense. Sometimes I do slip into a bit of an accent because of listening to my mom. She never quite lost it.” It was more how he said certain words than whole sentences, but Brook kind of liked that about himself, like he had traces of his homeland within him. The moment he heard Ludwig’s fake accent, Brook started to laugh. “Are you sure you’re not from New York?” Brook teased, still laughing about it. “You just have a way of bring laughter into a situation, don’t you, Ludwig?” Brook asked, but it was more of a statement of fact than a question. Shaking his head, Brook answered, “No. I would like to go, but I’ve always been so busy. I never had the time back in Salem.” What Brook didn’t say was that he had purposely made it that way, that he clung to a rigid schedule because the structure helped keep him in line. “I probably have the time now though actually, but…it’s kind of a scary prospect. What if I’ve overhyped it in my mind?”

[aninkwellofnectar]

as a chronic cynical misanthrope i'm starting to get why romance novels are so popular.

[icewindandboringhorror]

examining a seemingly normal image only to slowly realize the clear signs of AI generated art.... i know what you are... you cannot hide your true nature from me... go back where you came from... out of my sight with haste, wretched and vile husk

[rivilu]

Oh I also love Taash

[anchorandrope]

.

[imagineagreatadventure]

was doing some fic research and came upon this graphic:

It's just really interesting how much the use of the word "forgive" dipped and how we in the last two decades use it almost more than ever before.

not entirely sure what it means and too sleepy to hypothesize but idk i found it interesting.

[everiistence]

"i'm not going to read into the fine details of this fic because i'm just here to have fun and burn some free time" response vs. "IT! WOULD! NOT! WORK! LIKE! THAT!" response: fight!

[blooms-in-april]

This is me about Mansfield Park! Yes, there is romantic love in the story (Fanny pines after Edmund, Edmund pines after Mary, Henry pursues Fanny) but it is NOT a romance story.

A lot of the complaints about Mansfield Park center around its unsatisfying love story. Edmund is plain, sanctimonious, and uninterested for 99% of the novel. Henry is the classic prince swooping in to save Cinderella, but he ruins everything by running off with Mariah at the 11th hour.

But these issues never bothered me, because Mansfield Park was not meant to be a satisfying love story about a fulfilling courtship and happily ever after with the perfect man. It is a story about Fanny's life, as hard and imperfect as it is, and her standing up against enormous outside pressure despite her own timidity.

ready to die on the hill of if jane austen was a man her books would be labeled as primarily satire. "dismissing romance as a genre is sexist" ok but not every story with a romance is a romance novel

[themiraculousec]

terribly disappointed you didn't just dropkick that idiot off a bridge. there's still time though.

I would but fortunately I think she's just a child with brainworms. She still has time to learn. I hope that one day she looks back on her words with embarrassment from her perspective as a grown, better person.

[kindacreepy-kindaugly]

Not to pretend I'm no longer losin my damn mind or anythin but it does make me feel kinda sick now. Thinkin bout the way I was this close to convincing myself I'm (still) in love w/ him

[ktempestbradford]

I have been on a Willy Wonkified journey today and I need y'all to come with me

It started so innocently. Scrolling Google News I come across this article on Ars Technica:

At first glance I thought what happened was parents saw AI-generated images of an event their kids were at and became concerned, then realized it was fake. The reality? Oh so much better.

On Saturday, event organizers shut down a Glasgow-based "Willy's Chocolate Experience" after customers complained that the unofficial Wonka-inspired event, which took place in a sparsely decorated venue, did not match the lush AI-generated images listed on its official website.... According to Sky News, police were called to the event, and "advice was given."

Thing is, the people who paid to go were obviously not expecting exactly this:

But I can see how they'd be a bit pissed upon arriving to this:

It gets worse.

"Tempest, how could it possibly--"

source of this video that also includes this charming description:

Made up a villain called The Unknown — 'an evil chocolate maker who lives in the walls'

There is already a meme.

Oh yes, the Wish.com Oompa Loompa:

Who has already done an interview!

As bad (and hilarious) as this all is, I got curious about the company that put on this event. Did they somehow overreach? Did the actors they hired back out at the last minute? (Or after they saw the script...) Oddly enough, it doesn't seem so!

Given what I found when poking around I'm legit surprised there was an event at all. Cuz this outfit seems to be 100% a scam.

The website for this specific event is here and it has many AI generated images on it, as stated. I don't think anyone who bought tickets looked very closely at these images, otherwise they might have been concerned about how much Catgacating their children would be exposed to.

Yes, Catgacating. You know, CATgacating!

I personally don't think anyone should serve exarserdray flavored lollipops in public spaces given how many people are allergic to it. And the sweet teats might not have been age appropriate.

Though the Twilight Tunnel looks pretty cool:

I'm not sure that Dim Tight Twdrding is safe. I've also been warned that Vivue Sounds are in that weird frequency range that makes you poop your pants upon hearing them.

Yes, Virginia, these folks used an AI image generator for everything on the website and used Chat GPT for some of the text! From the FAQ:

Q: I cannot go on the available days. Will you have more dates in the future? A: Should there be capacity when you arrive, then you will be able to enter without any problems. In the event that this is not the case, we may ask you to wait a bit.

Fear not, for this question is asked again a few lines down and the answer makes more sense.

Curious about the events company behind this disaster, I took myself over to the homepage of House of Illuminati and I was not disappointed.

I would 100% trust these people to plan my wedding.

This abomination of a website is a badly edited WordPress blog filled with AI art and just enough blog posts to make the casual viewer think that it's a legit business for about 0.0004 seconds.

Their attention to detail is stunning, from how they left up the default first post every WP blog gets to how they didn't bother changing the name on several images, thus revealing where they came from. Like this one:

With the lovely and compact filename "DALL·E-2024-01-30-09.50.54-Imagine-a-scene-where-fantasy-and-reality-merge-seamlessly.-In-the-foreground-a-grand-interactive-gala-is-taking-place-filled-with-elegant-guests-i.png"

"Concept.png" came from the same AI generator that gets text almost, but not quiiiiiite right:

There are a suspicious number of .webp images in the uploads, which makes me think they either stole them from other sites where AI "art" was uploaded or they didn't want to pay for the hi-res versions of some and just grabbed the preview image.

The real fun came when I noticed this filename: Before-and-After-Eventologists-Transformation-Edgbaston-Cricket-Ground-1024x1024-1.jpg and decided to do a Google image search. Friends, you will be shocked to hear that the image in question, found on this post touting how they can transform a boring warehouse into a fun event space, was stolen from this actual event planner.

Even better, this weirdly grainy image?

From a post that claims to be about the preparations for a "Willy Wonka" experience (we'll get to this in a minute), is not only NOT an actual image of anyone preparing anything for Illuminati's event, it is stolen from a YouTube thumbnail that's been chopped to remove the name of the company that actually made this. Here's the video.

If you actually read the blog posts they're all copypasta or some AI generated crap. To the point where this seems like not a real business at all. There's very specific business information at the bottom, but nothing else seems real.

As I said, I'm kinda surprised they put on an event at all. This has, "And then they ran off with all our money!" written all over it. I'm perplexed.

And also wondering when the copyright lawyers are gonna start calling, because...

This post explicitly says they're putting together a "Willy Wonka’s Chocolate Factory Experience" complete with golden tickets.

Somewhere along the line someone must have wised up, because the actual event was called "Willys Chocolate Experience" (note the lack of apostrophe) and the script they handed to the actors about 10 minutes before they were supposed to "perform" was about a "Willy McDuff" and his chocolate factory.

As I was going through this madness with friends in a chat, one pointed out that it took very little prompting to get the free Chat GPT to spit out an event description and such very similar to all this while avoiding copyrighted phrases. But he couldn't figure out where the McDuff came from since it wasn't the type of thing GPT would usually spit out...

Until he altered the prompt to include it would be happening in Glasgow, Scotland.

You cannot make this stuff up.

But truly, honestly, I do not even understand why they didn't take the money and run. Clearly this was all set up to be a scam. A lazy, AI generated scam.

Everything from the website to the event images to the copy to the "script" to the names of things was either stolen or AI generated (aka stolen). Hell, I'd be looking for some poor Japanese visitor wandering the streets of Glasgow, confused, after being jacked for his mascot costume.

HE LIVES IN THE WALLS, Y'ALL.

[yawnderu]

Having a bimbo girlfriend is the best thing to ever happen to Simon Riley. Not only does he get to be with someone who looks like an angel— you act like one, too.

“Keep your eyes closed, Si. This thingy can blind you.” You sound fully convinced of it as you apply the skincare over his eyebrows, the pads of your fingers running over his rough skin with a gentleness he's never experienced. “‘S not gonna blind me, bird.” He reassures, yet he still keeps his eyes closed and fully focuses on the sensation of the cool liquid being smeared all over his face, matching with you.

“You don’t know that.” A quiet chuckle comes out of him because he does, in fact, know that none of the ingredients can blind him— he read the bottle in secret.

You finish applying the product on his skin, planting a gentle kiss on his chapped lips before you hum softly, face scrunching up as you feel the dryness of his lips.

“Wait.” There's pure amusement in his eyes as he sees you jog out of the room, coming back not even 10 seconds later out of breath, but with a stick of lip balm in your hand.

“Do this.” You make a kissy face and he doesn't hesitate to copy you, trying his best not to smile as you steal a kiss before starting to carefully apply the lip balm on his dry lips. He has never been taken care of like this— never even dared to dream about it, yet this is his reality now.

“Much better, isn't it?” Simon might as well have died right on the spot and went to heaven with the way you grin up at him, the light above you almost looking like a halo.

It takes a few seconds of staring at you before he's nodding his head, getting up to steal a kiss, a genuine smile on his face as you smack his arm softly and scold him for smearing the lip balm.

Bimbo!Reader Masterlist

[narcjsistx]

𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐖𝐈𝐄𝐖... | sae, kaiser, rin

𝐌𝐘 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ; take a look, trust me!

plot: you get mentioned in one of their interviews, and he's sooo in love with you <3

— sae itoshi

That Sae didn't like interviews was a well known thing, even the journalists were a little worried when they discovered they had to interview him: although he was a prodigy, a talent never seen in years and years of soccer, he was objectively a thorn in the side, acidic and lethal in words as he was with his shots in the penalty area. All the journalists who had dealt with the Japanese prodigy could say, with absolute certainty, that a slap or being fired was less annoying

And today was no exception. ReAl had just won a very important Spanish cup, but one that Sae didn't actually know much about. They simply told him to be himself, and so he did: the result was a landslide victory against the Venezuelan team, 7-1. The match had been over for less than half an hour and he had already been surrounded by journalists, whom he had pushed away with little courtesy as he headed towards the locker room. But one journalist had insisted more than the others, and with a sigh, the boy had dedicated 5 minutes of his time to him

"Exciting victory today, isn't it? Spain had been aiming for this cup for years but they only won it when you had a place in the team" says the journalist, microphone pointed towards Sae. A man, a little further away, held a video camera on his shoulder, pointed towards them. Sae nods, turning away when he swears he hears someone call out to him in a familiar voice. The reporter continues talking, but Sae pays no attention: that voice sounded so familiar

"So that's a yes?" the reporter says, the microphone still pointed towards him. Sae doesn't even know what question he asked him, but the mere fact that he's still here trying to get information out of him bothers him. "What?" he asks raising an eyebrow, and before the reporter even says it, Sae knows it's about you

“Your girlfriend isn't here today, which is strange considering she's always present at your games, even when they're out of town” the reporter says, probably repeating the words he asked him earlier. Sae isn't even surprised by the question, he already knows what he wants to ask him and mentally thanks himself for not answering with 'yes' at the previous question "Is this a sign that you've broken up? There have been rumors for a while that the feeling between you two is over-"

"No. We have not broken up and at the moment, and even in the future, the option is not in mind for either of us" says the boy without thinking for two seconds, taking the edge of the microphone with one hand, so that his words they arrive very straight. The journalist is surprised

Today, for the first time since you've been together, you couldn't come to his game. You actually haven't seen each other in a while, at least a month, and all the speculation that you had broken up had reached Sae's ears. Everything seemed to fit, the perfect breakup after years of a perfect relationship and a wedding ring on the line that Sae had offered you months ago. Everything seemed to coincide with the end of one of the most talked about relationships of the moment

But the reality is that simply, for university reasons, you had to move to Italy for a few months. Sae often came to you, but couldn't stay for whole days due to training... and so, for just over a month, you hadn't seen each other. If the truth wasn't known, you would actually look like a couple who hated each other by now

“Would you tell us more about all the evidence that has been circulating for over a month?” asks the journalist, and the boy already knows in his mind that the interview will not end well if this damned journalist continues to be so interested in something that does not concern him

Sae sighs. He knows that, from your temporary home in Italy, you are watching him. He knows well that every word he is saying you are listening to him. And it's time to make things clear once and for all,or he thinks he's going crazy

"Y/n and I haven't broken up, it's not on our minds and wedding preparations are currently underway. I hate when people seem so interested in something that actually has nothing to do with them, but I understand that it's your job and that's why I'm holding back from going harder on it" says Sae in one breath "My future wife and I don't have anything remotely negative in mind for our relationship, so if you would do me the favor of mentioning her only when there really is a reason, I would be happy" says Sae, and the journalist is suddenly understanding why all his colleagues had told him to stay away from the Japanese prodigy "So, if you really have questions for me about my performance today, I'll try to answer. Otherwise, bye" he says, handing the microphone back to the man, who takes it completely speechless

The camera shows him leaving, hiding the journalist who is still speechless. The camera zoom focuses on the background of Sae's phone, which appears for a few seconds when the boy takes the phone while heading towards the locker room. A photo of you and him cheek to cheek stands out, a small smile breaking across the boy's face as you laugh. With only this proof alone, literally everybody could definitively say that you didn't break up

— micheal kaiser

Micheal was now used to interviews. Since he had actually become someone, someone relegated to Germany's biggest soccer club, interviews had become an everyday thing, like brushing his teeth or kicking the ball as hard as he could during training. He was good looking, he had charisma, he was definitely one of the most pleasant to interview on his team. If the interviewer was a woman he would crack a few jokes, something to make things more interesting. It was objectively flirting with them, but since you had officially become his girlfriend, he had put a stop to these things, out of respect for you

The room was well furnished, he was sitting on a sofa placed in front of the large windows, which gave a view of the great metropolis of Hamburg. You were with him, sitting behind the cameras on a chair placed there at random. He had insisted to the producers that you appear next to him during the interview, but it wasn't possible. His nose was still a little crooked knowing that they got you that beat up chair by sheer luck. You were his empress, the respect they had for him they had to give to you too, and it hadn't happened

He knew that you didn't really care that much, but your respect was something that, at least in front of him, they couldn't miss. But making a fuss just for this didn't seem right at the moment, at most he would have done it after finishing the interview

A woman enters the room, probably only a few years older than him, in her thirties. She looked familiar, and he wasn't sure why he had a bad feeling. The woman approaches, sitting on one of the armchairs next to him. They could have changed your chair for that armchair, why hadn't they done it?

"It's a real pleasure for me to interview you again. It's been a long time since the first time!" the woman says smiling, and from there Micheal finally understands why he felt like he knew her: a few years ago, before he even met you, he did an interview with this woman. The video had gone viral not for the questions, but for the way it was obvious the two of them were flirting with each other. Not that Micheal was really interested, it was just a habit before he met you

Before he can even say anything, a producer announces the start of the interview. The woman smiles at the camera, giving a brief introduction before moving on to a few questions: they are all things related to soccer, Bastard Munchen and the next match against Italy, which will take place in a few weeks. Micheal relaxes his nerves a little to see that nothing has to do with his private life, and turns around to see you from time to time. You smile softly at him, nodding as a sign that he's going well, really everything is going well

But Kaiser relaxed too soon, unfortunately. "Sooo, the internet world has been wondering this for a while... and now seems like the right opportunity to ask it! We're done with soccer questions anyway, right?" the woman says, chuckling, placing a stack of notes on a nearby table, picking up another. Kaiser tilts his head, and for a moment, he thinks these are the usual questions related to his relationship. Nothing new

"Our first interview was four years ago, when you weren't even dating yet. The internet world wondered for a long time if we were together!" the woman says, with a look that Kaiser recognizes: hoe. He turns to you and for a moment he reads some confusion on your face "The interview went so viral that everyone really thought it was a way to reveal our relationship to the world. But it didn't go that way, unfortunately" says the woman

If he wasn't live nationally and if the interviewer wasn't a woman, he would have already crushed her face with his fist. With what logic does she talk about something like that in front of you, his girlfriend? Where's the fucking respect they're supposed to give you but are lacking in every possible way? Everything is going wrong

“It sure would have been a fun thing to do and-” the woman says speaking casually, but the guy interrupts her “Schatz, could you come over here for a sec?” Kaiser says, shifting his attention solely to you, who finds yourself perplexed for a moment. He's breaking every rule possible, but he doesn't care. If he wants you next to him on national live broadcast, the producers will make you stand next to him on national live broadcast

You get up from the chair a little scared, walking among the producers who mentally and not curse Kaiser. You pass the woman who, with an annoyed look, stares at you. With slightly shaky legs you sit next to Micheal, who immediately grabs you putting his arm around your shoulders, pushing your hip against his. You try to smile as best you can in front of the camera, which records everything. Kaiser squeezes your shoulder slightly, and then turns his face back towards the camera "I don't rule out that that interview made me go viral everywhere for months and months, increasing my fame" says the boy "But my behavior was a bit wrong at the time, I was definitely giving attention to people who shouldn't have been..." says Micheal, and while you try to hold back a laugh, the interviewer opens her paralyzed mouth

Kaiser chuckles at the situation, then continues "The attention that I used to give to random people is now received by her, who deserves it all. The mere fact that she accompanies me everywhere is a valid reason to love her, right?" the boy says, squeezing your shoulder again, and you smile in love "She is simply better. It's not even a competition, because she would win before even starting. Maybe if my girlfriend had been the interviewer that time I would say differently now! Maybe I would have already married her, who knows" Kaiser says, and you tilt your head against his shoulder, leaning on him like you always do. You're so damn in love with him

If the producers and interviewer failed to give you respect behind the scenes and also with annoyance, Kaiser will make sure to prove your worth in front of the whole Germany

— itoshi rin

If there was one thing that distinguished Rin from his teammates, it was the ability to turn each of his interviews into a future edit that would become popular on all social media. He was famous, damn famous, every scene of his was edited by millions of people every day. His interviews, for his fans, were the best opportunity to make scenes about him

And since you had been dating, for a few years now, you had suffered more or less the same treatment as Rin. You often appeared in his interviews, you were loved by his fan base, and the edits about you that went as viral as those of your beloved boyfriend

"...the Australian defense this time had to face a much better prepared Japan than last match" says the interviewer, the microphone held out towards Rin. A match has just ended, obviously won by Japan: Rin is still sweaty, his legs slightly weak from running for practically the entire duration of the match. But he's not sick, he's simply tired and he just wants to kiss you

Of course you came to his game, taking a seat in the VIP section of the players' families. It's a habit that, as soon as the match is over, he comes to the VIP section to kiss you, but this time he couldn't: the journalists completely captured him, making it impossible to even move a few meters

"Yes. We decided to change the defense to prepare for Australia's top scorer, who couldn't do anything this time compared to previous matches" Rin replies disinterestedly, looking for you. There are just so many people, so many players or interviewers, but where the hell are you? Didn't something happen to you?

"It must also be said that Japan no longer has any problems in terms of strikers since you joined as an honorary member of the team" says the interviewer, and Rin nods without actually thinking much about what they told him. He just has a strange feeling, he doesn't understand why he isn't seeing you when it's never been difficult for him to find you in a crowd of people

"Any projects in mind at the moment? On a soccer level or on a personal level?" the interviewer asks, but Rin stops hearing him when, a few meters away from him, he sees you: you're a little lost, your gaze curious while you were probably looking for him too. It makes him somewhat tender to see you like this, but he is happy to know that all his doubts about whether something had happened to you are false

"Mr. Itoshi?" the man asks, but Rin takes a few steps forward, not enough to disappear from the camera lens, to signal to you that he's there. It doesn't take you long to notice, running like a little girl in his direction, hugging him as you wrap your arms around his neck, while he places his hands on your hips. "I couldn't find you!" you say laughing, holding onto your boyfriend who holds you close to him "It's the journalists' fault" Rin whispers, leaving a kiss on your cheek before remembering that he's in the middle of an interview. He turns just enough to see that the camera is now perfectly directed towards you, immortalizing the romantic moment between Japan's number one striker and his beautiful girlfriend. The edits will be crazy this time

You notice that the camera is pointed towards you, and a little embarrassed you try to smile without revealing the hint of discomfort "I'll be back later?" you say to your boyfriend, who before you can even finish the sentence, shakes his head as he grabs your wrist "No. You're coming too" he says walking back towards the station, squeezing your wrist affectionately. You follow him, a little embarrassed but it wasn't the first time it happened, so you had gotten used to it

Rin returns to his seat, his arm around your waist ignoring the fact that he almost slipped out of an interview. You stand next to him, your arm behind his back, smiling at the man who now knows both of them "Were you saying?" Rin asks, returning to the interview questions

"Oh, yeah yeah... any projects in mind at the moment? On a soccer level or on a personal level?" the interviewer asks again

Rin thinks about it for a moment. The plans are actually there. He must still become the best of the best, climb to the top and lead Japan to be the strongest team in the world. It simply has yet to break some of its limitations

But there are also other projects. He has to decide when to use that ring he bought more than a few months ago. He must understand when to kneel down and definitely ask you to become Miss Itoshi, his wife. These are mainly his most important projects at the moment

"I still have a lot to do, Japan has to become the most important and strongest team in the world, and maybe I will take on the role of team captain. On a personal level though... I don't know, I just want to continue what I already doing for a while… making her happy every day” Rin says, and you can swear you feel your heart explode

Your boyfriend isn't a big talker, you knew this even before we got together. But the facts speak, and he is doing exactly what he says: every day he makes you happy, and you couldn't be more grateful. His words may seem like nothing, but they mean a lot to you. You simply love him. The interviewer smiles. You turn to Rin and he leans down slightly to kiss you on the nose, making you giggle while the cameras film you

Maybe Rin could use that ring tonight, maybe?