#this is the special thing i had to share with you

[gourmetpunk]

Actually I changed my mind: in my first reblog of this, I had a little note in the tags stating that I guess I could at least get behind it as a political critique of punk, but now I'm going to go ahead and call that part of the post asinine as well.

Look, I get it: I also hate when people make the kind of dumb "punk is anything you want it to be" claims detailed in the last paragraph of the above rant, and I also cringe when people try and paint over the subcultures neo-Nazi flirtations. But what exactly are you trying to accomplish by attempting to divorce punk as a subculture from its politics, or political movements that have been inspired by it?

As I mentioned in the tags of my first reblog, there is almost certainly a leftward trend among those who could be considered cultural figureheads of punk, like Ian MacKaye, Henry Rollins, Patti Smith, David Byrne, etc. (with the requisite number of right-wing cranks you see pretty much anywhere like Johnny Rotten, Johnny Ramone and Morrissey). And that's not nothing - even if some of those figureheads have also said or done dumb things that don't align with my own leftism or most other people's here, they've inspired a lot of others to adopt the better parts of their ideals!

So what's loathsomespider's criticism here? That punk leftists failed to actually topple capitalism like they threatened to and instead became a part of the system, therefore the whole subculture is null and void and should only ever be analyzed as a fashion statement? Like it or not, subcultures exist in dialogue with politics, and while I am also skeptical that a single subculture is ever going to change the face of politics, many people find it encouraging to have a subculture they can bond over that they also share vague political ideals with. It has been said time and time again (and quite accurately, I'd add) that capitalism is able to incorporate any critique coming from outside itself into a marketable and non-threatening version of that critique within capitalism. So what makes punk such a special case here? Why stop there? Why not say all subcultural resistance is futile and ultimately apolitical if it takes place under capitalism? I just don't follow what of substance this post is supposed to be saying at all.

the "dumbledore's army" to "punk is anti-establishment" pipeline

[writingbuckets]

The Hot Take: Part 3

paige bueckers x influencer!reader

wc: 2.8k

a/n: the only i have to say is that i shocked myself with my flirting... enjoy!

**********

After your night at the game, it feels like the internet has exploded. Your mentions are on fire with fans on both sides—some praising your brutal honesty about Paige, others calling you out for downplaying her talent. It’s only natural that you decide to dedicate an entire podcast episode to the experience.

You settle into your recording setup, feeling a mix of anticipation and nerves—after all, tonight is a first. Across the table sits Paige Bueckers, cool and composed, though you catch a hint of mischief in her eyes as she adjusts her mic. You take a deep breath and lean in, grinning at your co-host before addressing the audience.

“Welcome back to The Hot Take! And tonight, we’re in for a treat. As you’ve probably guessed, we’ve got a special guest in the studio… the one, the only, Paige Bueckers!” You gesture toward her dramatically, and your co-host plays a quick soundbite of applause and crowd cheers, adding to the show’s theatrics.

Paige laughs, crossing her arms as she glances at you. “The crowd goes wild. I didn’t think you’d actually let me come on here, considering all the things you’ve said about me.”

You shoot her a mock-offended look. “What things? I’m nothing if not fair and unbiased.”

She raises an eyebrow, a playful glint in her eye. “Oh, totally. Because your comment was so fair and unbiased.”

Your co-host snickers. “Well, Paige, you’re in the right place if you want to get your revenge. Y/N here is known for her ‘brutal honesty.’ But hey, tonight might be a chance for you to change her mind.”

“Is that a challenge?” Paige asks, leaning forward, her gaze never leaving yours.

“Depends. You think you’re up for it?” you reply, meeting her eyes head-on, enjoying the charge of the challenge between you two.

“Oh, I’m always up for a challenge,” she responds smoothly, flashing a grin that has you momentarily caught off guard.

Your co-host breaks the tension with a laugh. “Alright, alright, let’s jump right in. Y/N, you’ve had plenty to say about Paige in the past. Care to share some of those hot takes now that she’s here to defend herself?”

You clear your throat, trying to hide your smirk. “Alright, let’s get one thing straight,” you say, addressing both the mic and Paige. “As much as it pains me to admit this…” You pause dramatically, shooting a look her way. “Bueckers actually impressed me the other night.”

Paige raises an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “Really? I didn’t think you’d ever admit that.”

“I know, it’s shocking, but credit where credit’s due,” you continue. “I mean, you’re quick on the court, you know your angles, and—dare I say it—you know how to work a crowd.”

Paige laughs, eyes dancing with mischief. “Oh, so you were paying attention. Here I was, thinking you came just to judge.”

“Oh, I absolutely came to judge,” you reply, grinning. “But I also got to see you actually back it up with skill. It was… not as overrated as I’d assumed.” You shoot her a wink, and she laughs, shaking her head.

“High praise,” she replies, feigning a look of being overwhelmed. “I didn’t realize tonight was all about showering me with compliments.”

Your co-host jumps in, clearly amused by the dynamic. “Wait, Y/N, are you actually going soft? Compliments? Feeling a little flustered, maybe?”

You shake your head, grinning. “Don’t get it twisted. I’m just saying, maybe I underestimated you.” You turn to Paige. “Don’t let it go to your head, though. I’m not here to just hype you up.”

Paige leans back in her chair, looking entirely at ease. “Don’t worry. I can handle a little constructive criticism. Hit me with your best shot.”

You take the opportunity, leaning forward with a smirk. “Alright, if you insist. Here’s my take: For all that talent, you could be a bit more creative with your moves. Sometimes it feels like you rely on what’s tried and true instead of taking risks.”

She smirks back. “And sometimes critics don’t realize the importance of consistency,” she counters smoothly. “Winning isn’t about impressing people—it’s about doing what works.”

“Touché,” you reply, though you’re secretly impressed by her response. You decide to press a little further. “Alright, so if it’s all about winning, how do you handle the pressure that comes with it? Isn’t there a part of you that wants to switch things up now and then?”

Paige leans forward, crossing her arms on the table. “I get that all the time. But you know, winning takes priority. Switching things up? That’s for off the court.” Her gaze holds yours, and for a second, you wonder if she’s talking about more than just basketball.

Your co-host notices the silent exchange and interrupts with a grin. “Okay, okay, I feel like there’s a whole vibe happening here that I did not sign up for!”

The comment pulls you back, and you laugh, brushing it off. “Nothing happening here,” you insist, stealing a quick glance at Paige.

Paige holds back a smirk, shrugging. “Sure, whatever you say.” But the gleam in her eye says otherwise.

Trying to keep things on track, you steer the conversation back to basketball, although the flirtatious edge remains. “Alright, Bueckers, one more thing. I’ll admit, you’ve got talent. But do you ever worry about being put in a box? People see you a certain way, and that’s how they’ll always see you.”

Paige pauses, and for a moment, the playful banter takes on a serious note. “Yeah, I get that. People think they know you, based on what they see online or on the court. But the truth is, they’re only seeing one side.”

It’s unexpectedly candid, and you nod, finding a bit of yourself in her answer. “Yeah. I get that. People always think they know everything from what they see online, but there’s always more, right?”

Paige’s gaze softens just slightly, and she nods. “Exactly. Sometimes I think it would be nice if people saw more than the ‘player’ version of me.”

You raise an eyebrow, catching the hint in her tone. “So… what would that look like, Bueckers?”

She gives you a playful smirk, leaning back in her chair. “Maybe you’ll find out if you’re lucky.”

Your co-host interjects, clearly amused. “Did I miss something here, or is this turning into a date?”

Both you and Paige laugh, shaking your heads in sync. “Not quite,” you say quickly, though your heart skips a beat.

Before wrapping up, you give Paige the last word. “Alright, Bueckers, we’ve had our fun. Any final words for our listeners?”

She leans toward the mic, glancing at you with a grin. “Only that this isn’t the last time you’ll hear from me, Y/N. I’m sticking around to make sure you don’t underestimate me again.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Well, bring your best game, then. I’ll be ready.”

The episode wraps up with lingering tension and the audience buzzing with intrigue, speculating wildly in the comments and social media. As you both step away from the mics, Paige meets your gaze with a small smile.

“Nice job,” she says, extending a hand.

You shake it, feeling the warmth of her grip, the playful energy still sparking between you. “Likewise, Bueckers. Just don’t expect me to go easy on you next time.”

She gives you a wink. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

**********

Not even an hour after the episode goes live, the reactions flood in. Your notifications blow up with fire emojis, heart-eyes, and endless comments as fans dissect every word, every sly look you exchanged with Paige, and every playful jab you threw her way. People seem to be either thrilled by your shift in tone or mourning the sharper edge of your usual critique. But there’s one thing they all seem to agree on—your chemistry with Paige was undeniable, and they’re dying to see where this dynamic goes next.

Then come the memes: screenshots of you glancing at Paige with a mix of disbelief and amusement, clips from older episodes where you roasted her, and side-by-sides comparing your expressions with Paige’s iconic moments on the court. One of your favorites is a split image of you with an exaggerated, eye-rolling expression, paired with Paige’s confident smirk from one of her highlight games. People are clearly having a field day, and you find yourself chuckling at the creativity as you scroll through the tag.

But just as you’re considering logging off for the night, a notification grabs your attention. It’s a comment from none other than Paige herself.

@PaigeBueckers: “Glad to see you’re finally catching on, Y/N. Game recognizes game, right? 😏”

You smirk, typing back a quick reply.

@notY/N: “Don’t get too comfortable, Bueckers. I’m just warming up. 😏”

Paige responds almost instantly, and suddenly, it’s a back-and-forth on full display for everyone to see.

@PaigeBueckers: “Comfortable? Nah. Just giving you something to talk about on that next episode of yours.”

@notY/N: “Who says you’re interesting enough for a second episode?”

@PaigeBueckers: “Guess I’ll just have to prove you wrong, then. Challenge accepted?”

The thread quickly spirals as fans jump in, hyping up every comment exchange, adding their own captions, and stirring up theories about your “rivalry.” By the time you close the app, #YNPBChallenge is trending, with people eagerly waiting for your next move. And though you won’t admit it, you’re already curious about hers.

Within hours, sports outlets start covering the “feud.” Clips of your episode circulate, paired with screenshots of Paige’s comments. Twitter is filled with fans trying to decode every little interaction, with hashtags like #PaigeAndY/N and #RivalryGoals popping up as the top trends. Some fans eagerly ship you and Paige, while others are taking sides, wanting to see if your critique holds up in future episodes.

Some of Paige’s teammates even get in on the fun, teasing her about the exchanges. Azzi Fudd, in particular, tweets, “So… when’s the first date, @paigebueckers? 👀”

You laugh when you see it, because of course Paige’s friends would be watching the whole thing unfold. You decide to add your own little stir to the pot.

Replying to Azzi’s tweet, you type, “First date? I think she’d need to step up her game a bit first.”

Not even a minute later, Paige replies to you directly: “Challenge accepted.”

The thread is flooded with reactions, and for a moment, it’s as if the entire internet is watching you two flirt in real time. You know it’s all in good fun, but there’s an undeniable thrill to it.

After the whirlwind of social media reactions, you finally step away from your phone, still replaying the day’s events. There’s an undeniable energy to this back-and-forth with Paige. Even through playful jabs and witty comebacks, there’s something deeper simmering—something that leaves you more curious than you’d like to admit.

Just as you’re about to call it a night, a new notification lights up your screen: a direct message from Paige herself. You hesitate for a moment, feeling an odd mix of excitement and nerves, and then finally open it.

Paige: “So… I’m dying to know—did you expect all of this to blow up the way it did?”

Her message catches you off guard. You’d expected something more competitive, maybe another cheeky comment. But this question feels more open, almost as if she’s genuinely curious about your perspective on all this unexpected attention.

Y/N: “Honestly? Not at all. I mean, I’m used to a little backlash, but this? Everyone’s treating it like it’s the story of the year.”

Paige: “Right? It’s kind of insane, but I have to say, you seem to handle it like a pro.”

A smile tugs at your lips. The words are simple enough, but there’s a warmth there, a hint of respect that takes you by surprise. You hadn’t expected Paige to be this down-to-earth.

Y/N: “I guess that’s part of the job, right? You get used to it, even when it’s… unexpected.”

Paige: “Guess we both know what that’s like. I mean, people see us a certain way, but they don’t really get the whole picture.”

Her message resonates with you in a way you hadn’t anticipated. It’s something you’ve thought about often—the assumptions people make, the way fans and critics alike paint you in broad strokes, not really seeing the person underneath. The more you think about it, the more you realize that Paige might understand that better than most.

Y/N: “True. Everyone thinks they know us based on what they see online, but there’s a lot that doesn’t make the highlight reel, right?”

Paige: “Exactly. It’s easy to play a role, keep it simple. But sometimes, it’s nice to just be real with someone who gets it.”

There’s a pause, a subtle weight to her words that makes you wonder if this is just harmless banter, or something more.

Y/N: “So, you’re saying I’m good enough to get the ‘real’ Paige Bueckers?”

Paige: “I’m saying maybe you’re not as overrated as you think you are, Y/N.”

You can’t help but laugh, the slight warmth of her compliment balanced by her usual dose of teasing. But even as the conversation winds down, a part of you can’t shake the feeling that this might be the start of something… different. The back-and-forth, the playful ribbing—it’s beginning to feel like more than just banter.

You let out a soft laugh, staring at the screen a little longer than you meant to, absorbing Paige’s last message. You’d expected a snarky retort, maybe a playful jab, but this? This is something else, something that has you wondering if she’s just as curious as you are. Before you can overthink it, you decide to keep the conversation going.

Y/N: “Alright, I’ll take that as a compliment—coming from someone who’s probably had a lifetime supply of them.”

Paige: “You’d think so, but it’s funny how most of them don’t mean much. I think I’ve just gotten good at smiling and nodding.”

Her honesty catches you off guard. It’s a rare moment of vulnerability, one that’s different from the playful façade you’d seen at the game and in her comments. You find yourself softening, recognizing a piece of yourself in her words.

Y/N: “I get it. People are quick to build you up, but they don’t always see the work behind it. Or the stuff you keep off-camera.”

Paige: “Exactly. Sometimes it feels like it’s just about meeting everyone’s expectations.”

You feel a pang of understanding. Despite the banter, the jabs, you realize there’s a part of her that just wants to be seen for more than the hype, more than the image fans have painted of her. And, you realize, maybe that’s why this little rivalry-turned-conversation feels different than anything you’ve experienced before.

Y/N: “Well, for what it’s worth, I’m here for the real version of you—whatever that looks like.”

She doesn’t respond immediately, and you wonder if you’d gone too far. But just as you’re about to backpedal, her response pops up.

Paige: “Same goes for you, Y/N. Guess that means we’ll have to see what that actually looks like, right?”

Her words make your stomach do an unexpected flip. It’s an invitation, subtle but clear, to get to know her beyond the rivalry, beyond the image. And suddenly, it feels like this whole thing—the online banter, the “feud,” the unexpected DM—has been leading up to this moment.

Y/N: “Guess so. So, next time we bump into each other… coffee? Or are you more of a smoothie person?”

She replies almost instantly.

Paige: "Coffee works, as long as you promise not to trash-talk me in front of the barista."

You laugh, feeling a warmth that has nothing to do with the banter and everything to do with her openness.

Y/N: “Fine, I’ll tone it down. But don’t get too comfortable—I’m not going easy on you.”

Paige: “Wouldn’t expect anything less.”

There’s a pause after that, a comfortable silence that feels like both a beginning and a challenge. As you put your phone down, a smile still on your face, you realize you’re genuinely excited to see where this goes.

[landinhoe]

In the Heart of November- Lando Norris

ღ

In honour of our little Lando’s birthday, enjoy🫶🏻

ღ

The evening air was cool, carrying the crisp bite of late November, as Lando pulled up to the small, intimate restaurant in London. Nestled away from the busy streets, this place held a special charm, chosen specifically for its warm, quiet atmosphere—a place where he could celebrate his birthday with only his closest friends. As he stepped inside, he took in the cozy ambiance. The soft glow of candlelight flickered off the wooden tables, and the gentle hum of quiet conversations surrounded him, giving the room a sense of familiarity and comfort. But despite the company of his friends, Lando’s thoughts were somewhere else.

Or, rather, with someone else. He checked his phone for any messages, trying not to seem too eager. She was supposed to arrive soon. They’d been friends for a while now, ever since they’d first met through the world of Formula 1. She worked in a legal role with McLaren, and their paths had crossed unexpectedly during a team event. What had started as casual conversations about racing, contracts, and the challenges of the sport had grown into a friendship filled with laughter, shared dreams, and mutual understanding. She’d become someone he could talk to—someone who understood the pressures he faced, not just as a driver but as a young man trying to make his mark.

It was during the long hours between races, in the quiet moments away from the track, that he found himself drawn to her. She grounded him, reminding him to enjoy the little things. When he was around her, he could set aside the high expectations and just be Lando. They had developed an easy rapport, and over time, his feelings had shifted from friendship to something deeper, something he couldn’t ignore. But tonight, he wasn’t sure if she felt the same. All he knew was that he wanted her there.

Then the door opened, and she walked in. Wrapped in a dark, elegant coat, her cheeks flushed pink from the cold, she looked radiant. Her hair was slightly tousled, her eyes bright as they met his from across the room. She paused, scanning the restaurant for him, and when their eyes met, she gave him a warm smile. For a moment, everything else faded into the background. He stood to greet her, his heart pounding in his chest as he tried to keep his face calm and casual.

“You made it,” he said, his voice softer than he intended.

She laughed lightly, a sound he always found himself looking forward to. “Of course I did. It’s your birthday—wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

They hugged briefly, a touch that felt both familiar and electric, and he led her to their table. The night unfolded with laughter and easy conversation. Around the table, their friends told stories from races and travels, the room filled with lighthearted jokes. Yet, despite the crowd, it felt like the two of them were in their own little bubble. Lando would find himself glancing at her, noticing the way she laughed, the way her hand sometimes brushed against his arm as they leaned in to share quiet words. She listened intently to his stories, her eyes lighting up when he talked about his dreams and the challenges he faced. There was an ease between them, a familiarity that made every moment feel special.

As dinner drew on, each of his friends took a turn presenting their gifts, filling the evening with laughter and warmth. Finally, it was her turn. She pulled out a small, beautifully wrapped box, holding it out to him with a smile that was both shy and knowing. Lando looked at her, feeling his curiosity pique as he gently untied the ribbon, careful not to rush. Inside, nestled in a bed of dark velvet, was a watch. It was simple yet elegant, with a sleek black leather band and a timeless face. His fingers brushed over the engraving on the back, reading the small, precise words she had chosen: “Drive with your heart.”

Lando’s throat tightened as he read it, his heart swelling with a mixture of gratitude and something deeper. She looked at him with a softness in her eyes, and he sensed there was more to this gift than just its material worth. She had chosen something meaningful, something that spoke to who he was, and it was as if she had seen through all the layers he tried to hide. For a moment, he was overcome, unsure of what to say. He looked up, catching her gaze, and held it.

“It’s a reminder,” she said softly, her voice just for him. “For all the times when things get difficult, when you need to remember why you’re doing this. You have so much heart, Lando, and I just… I wanted you to know that.”

Her words stirred something in him, a warmth that he had rarely felt before. “Thank you,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “I don’t think you realize how much this means to me.”

For a moment, they sat in silence, his hand resting on the box, her hand resting close to his on the table. The air between them felt charged, filled with everything they hadn’t said. He wanted to reach out, to take her hand, to tell her what had been on his mind for months. But instead, he held back, savoring the quiet connection between them. The evening carried on, but Lando’s thoughts stayed on that watch, on her words, and on the growing realization that this was more than friendship.

As the night wound down, they stepped outside, and he offered her a ride home. She agreed, and soon they were side by side in his car, the city lights flickering past them in a blur. The ride was quiet, but not uncomfortable. It was as if they were both waiting for something, some unspoken understanding that hung in the air between them. Every now and then, he would glance over, catching her gaze as she looked out the window, her profile softened by the streetlights. He wanted to say something, anything, but he didn’t want to ruin the moment.

Finally, they arrived at her apartment. He parked, leaving the engine idling as he turned to her, his heart beating faster with every passing second. The warmth of the car was a stark contrast to the cool November air outside, and he was suddenly aware of just how close they were. He looked at her, his gaze lingering on her face, her eyes, the gentle curve of her smile.

“Thank you for tonight,” he said softly, his voice barely more than a whisper. “And for the gift. It’s… it’s perfect.”

She turned to him, her eyes meeting his with a look that seemed to hold a thousand unspoken words. “I’m just glad you liked it,” she replied, her voice gentle.

The silence stretched between them, filled with possibilities. Lando’s heart raced as he reached out, his fingers brushing her hand, testing the boundaries. She didn’t pull away. Instead, she leaned in slightly, her eyes never leaving his. Their faces were close now, so close he could feel her breath against his skin, warm and inviting. He couldn’t hold back any longer.

Slowly, he leaned in, closing the space between them. His lips met hers, soft and tentative at first, as if they were both afraid to break the spell. She responded, her hand finding his, fingers intertwining as the kiss deepened. It was gentle and sweet, a kiss filled with all the words they hadn’t spoken, a silent promise between them. Time seemed to stop, the world falling away until there was only her, and the feeling of her hand in his.

When they finally pulled back, he looked at her, his heart full and his mind racing. She smiled, a soft, knowing smile that told him she’d felt it too.

“Happy birthday, Lando,” she whispered, her voice a warm breath against his lips.

Lando squeezed her hand, a smile spreading across his face as he took in the moment. “Best birthday ever,” he murmured, and he knew, deep down, that this was just the beginning of something extraordinary.

[worfs-glorious-hair]

Because a certain someone decided that becoming a god and leaving dumping me right after the fight of our lives against the evil brain™️ without so much of a word of warning or love to me was suddenly more urgent and more significant than my love and my devotion to him since the day we met and what he had told me before (‚great ambition should not come at the price of what you already hold dear, I see that now‘ my ass) was I doing the only reasonable thing to deal with my heartbreak in a healthy manner: I bought a cameo from Tim Downie!

I received the cameo today (I am very normal and sane about the fact that Tim Downie read my request with his own eyes and then proceeded to prepare and hold a special Gale monologue just for me and my broken heart) and I want to share it with you in case you also got the sneaky God!Gale ending and hate the world as much as I do did. Maybe it heals something in you, too. It certainly has for me.

My request was a Gale monologue based on/ inspired by ‚From Now On‘ from The Greatest Showman, where he returns to Tav as a human before he can retrieve the crown because he came back to his senses somewhere down the Chionthar banks and realised that it was a grave mistake he was making and asks for Tav‘s forgiveness (granted. I just want him back pls 😭)

[livwritesstuff]

Today was a bittersweet day – the last day of the three-month parental leave Steve had taken when their daughter Robbie was born before he headed back to his counseling job.

Eddie knows that Steve is feeling torn a few different ways about going back to work.

On the one hand, Steve loves his job, and he’d worked his ass off earning his doctorate so he could be a trauma therapist just like he’d planned. Kids had also been a part of his plan, obviously, but as more of an in addition to type of way, rather than instead of when it came to his career. Eddie knows this, and he knows that Steve is excited to go back, to reconnect with his patients after three months apart.

Eddie also knows that their kids are everything to Steve in a way his job will never be (duh), and Eddie had seen the way Steve refused to ignore the gravity of today – the last day he doesn’t have to share his time with anything other than their daughters.

Steve had been emotional about going back to work in a similar way the first time around with Moe, and he’d called home about eight or nine times during his first day back in the office, asking how things were going and if he’d missed anything. Now, Moe is two-and-a-half (and some change, if they’re being technical), and Robbie just hit the three-month mark a few days ago. This time, Steve had done his best to split his time between their two daughters, and it’s not all that different from their normal day-to-day, honestly, just…something heavier in the air, maybe.

Now, Moe’s all fresh and clean from her bath, her bangs slicked back with the rest of her damp hair (Steve had put on a whole show of planting kisses all over her forehead and saying, “is this where you’ve been hiding your brilliant brain from us?” which always sends Moe into giggling hysterics), and Steve’s got her all bundled up in a big fluffy towel, snuggling her close with one arm as he balances Robbie on his chest with the other, all of them piled into a rocking chair while Eddie sits stretched out on Robbie’s rug.

“I’m probably not gonna be home when you wake up tomorrow morning,” Steve tells Moe, and it’s not the first time he’s brought up this particular subject today, but, y’know…toddlers. Really gotta nail in the point sometimes with toddlers, “‘Cause I’m going back to work, so I have to leave early to drive into Boston.”

“Why do you hafta drive to Boston?” Moe asked.

“Because that’s where my office is. Remember a few weeks ago when we visited my office?”

“Yeah and they met Robbie.”

“That’s right,” Steve nodded, “Everyone I work with met Robbie. I got to take a break from work when Robbie was born, and now it’s time for me to go back.”

Moe’s eyebrows are furrowed.

“But…I don’t want you to go.”

“I know, bug,” he tells her, “I miss you and Robbie and Daddy like crazy when I’m not home with you.”

“So why don’t you take more break?”

“I sorta took all the break I’m allowed to, sweet pea. It’s time for me to go back to work.”

Eddie looks at Moe, sees the cogs turning in her little brain as she tries to figure out a way to convince her dad to stay home with her.

“But what if you just don’t work anymore?”

It’s a good question, Eddie knows, and she’s not the only one asking it.

Not too long after Robbie’s arrival, when Max and El had come to visit and meet the new baby, Max had privately asked Eddie if he thought Steve might throw in the towel on the whole career thing this time around. Again, it’s a fair question for anybody who really knows Steve, anybody who sees how much he loves their kids and how much he loves being a dad, even if Eddie knows the answer is no. Still, it’s a close no.

Steve hums sympathetically, “Maybe someday, but I like my job. I get to help people, and I worked hard in school to be able to do that. Someday you might decide you want to have a job where you do more school and get special degrees.”

“Like what kinds of jobs?”

“Like a doctor or a lawyer, or maybe you want to work in a lab and do research on something. It’s a big world, Moe, and you can do whatever you set your mind to."

"I want to be an astronaut," Moe tells them.

"Well, there you go."

"Or I wanna be a cookie."

"Oh-" Steve's eyebrows furrow as Eddie starts to laugh. "Alright..."

"That's my girl," Eddie says, "Astronaut or pastry. I like it."

[custardkittyyy]

YAYYYYYYYY MORE OC ASKS 🍎 Tater tot loves french fries!

🍊 I feel like Dema would pick out a lot of fruit. She prefers fruit over vegetables. So stuff like bananas, oranges, and mangoes.

🍌 Diane would eat straight up plain yogurt because she's kind of sensitive when it comes to sweet things. She LOVES spicy food but overly sweet foods (even yogurt with fruit in it) makes her sick.

🥭 Leon (Diane's childhood friend, classmate & potential crush??) enjoys orange juice, but hates pulp.

🥝 Tater tot, due to the alien culture she comes from, finds eating meat outside of special occasions improper. So because of that, she's mostly on a vegetarian diet.

🫐 Tater tot would, just for the sake of 'science' she says.

🍇 Diane prefers hot coffee with no sugar in it.

🧄 Tater tot uses a lot of rich seasoning in her cooking! she prefers flavor and finds bland foods boring.

🍤 literally all of my ocs are against it because THEY ARE the seafood in question.

🧇 Tater LOVES baking! she mostly likes making cakes. she also loves eating strudels!

🍳 Dema enjoys cooking! she tries to cook with Diane but... Diane has a hard time sharing the kitchen with someone else. Dema likes making lunch & dinner foods the most!

🥖 Diane's favorite kind of bread is the baguette.

🫕 Tater tot LOVES cheese

🍾 N/A

🍟 Tater tot is fascinated by it. You can almost always find her at mc donald's or canes.

BREAKFAST

🥐 Diane wouldn't order breakfast from a cafe because she would almost not like anything they had to offer. She's a picky eater.

🥯 Dema usually eats home-made breakfast burritos. She eats with her sister (Diane) most of the time. I guess her ideal breakfast would be pancakes if she knew how to make them.

🥚Diane hates scrambled eggs... or eggs in general. But if she had to eat an egg, she'd prefer it to be fried.

🥓 Diane... it's whenever she manages to get up.

🥨 Tater tot would bring Tobias! (Her closest earthling friend... and slight crush?). She would bring sweets, and Tobias would bring whatever hillbilly thing he could cook up (per the insistence of his mother)

Diane would bring Dema.. because they go everywhere together. Diane would bring something spicy, and Dema, savoury!

and poor Leon, third (or 5th wheeling) would bring snacks because he doesn't have much.

LUNCH

🥗 Tater tot would for sure be the type to have a fruit salad. she'd probably share it with Dema!

🥪 Leon likes plain pb&j sandwiches! he would only eat that and maybe have a glass of milk.

🍣 Diane usually skips lunch, but will sit with Dema during said lunch. Maybe she'll have a snack or something. Dema likes fast food, so sometimes they'll go and get some fast food.

🥟 Tobias would probably have packed a meal of some sort for lunch. Most likely comfort food (food his mother used to make)

🥙 Don't take Diane on no lunch date bro ☠️ she would've picked something messy to eat, and then throw up out of nervousness as she's trying desperately to eat the messy food she ordered. She would hurry away out of embarrassment.

food themed oc asks 🍅

food preferences tell a lot about us and the same can be said about our ocs. And so, here's a funny ask game.

GENERAL/MISC

🍎 What's your oc's favorite food(s)?

🍊 Your oc is brought to the fruits and veggies aisle of the grocery store. What do they pick?

🍌 If your oc would pick a yoghurt or something like it, would they rather 1) eat plain yoghurt 2) eat flavored yoghurt or 3) eat yoghurt with the fruit bits in it.

🥭 Does your oc drink juice? What's their favorite kind of juice? Do they mind the fruit pulp that can sometimes be found in these?

🥝 Does your oc have food restrictions? Is the reason related to health, culture, ethics, preferences or something else?

🫐 Would your oc eat something they found outside? (for example: berries, mushrooms, not eaten chocolate bar, stuff like that)

🍇 Does your oc prefer coffee, tea, or hot chocolate? Do they prefer them hot or cold? What would their usual order in a cafe be?

🧄 How much spices does your oc use when cooking? Do they prefer bland taste or spicy/rich in flavor meals?

🍤 What's their opinion on seafood?

🧇 Do they enjoy baking? What's their favorite thing to bake? What's their favorite pastry to eat?

🍳 Do they enjoy cooking? What's their favorite thing to cook? Do they cook alone or with someone else?

🥖 What's their favorite kind of bread?

🫕 Do they like cheese?

🍾 Does your oc drink alcohol? What's their favorite drink(s) (can be alcoholic or non-alcoholic)? Would they know how to mix a cocktail?

🍟 What is your oc's opinion on fast food? How often do they buy it?

BREAKFAST

🥐 Your oc is given a chance to order a breakfast from cafe - what do they order? Would they actually do that?

🥯 What's their usual breakfast like? Do they eat breakfast, and if so, how regularly? Do they eat alone or with someone else? What would an ideal breakfast for them be?

🥚 What is your oc's preferred way to eat eggs? If your oc doesn't eat eggs, what do they think about scrambled tofu or the equivalent in their world?

🥓 At what time does your oc eat breakfast?

🥨 Brunch picnic time with friends/partner(s)/companions/[insert your ocs' close people here]! What is your oc bringing?

LUNCH

🥗 Your oc is now at a salad bar (a buffet-like place where you can do your own salad). What do they put in there? Do they add some kind of protein? Some sweet fruits? Some seeds or bread?

🥪 What kind of sandwiches does your oc like/would like to eat? If they could eat it for lunch, would they only eat it or something else, too?

🍣 What's your oc's typical lunch like? Do they usually eat lunch, and if so, how regularly? Do they eat alone or with someone else? What would their ideal lunch be like?

🥟 What's something your oc would love to eat for lunch almost every time?

🥙 They are having a lunch date. Which place do they pick and what are they ordering? Do they hurry or would they rather be late from whatever happens after lunch?

DINNER

🧆 Would they rather eat a stuffing lunch and light dinner or vice versa? Why?

🍚 They have been invited for a dinner by someone close to them! Where are they going, what are they ordering, what are they drinking and what do they talk about?

🍛 What's your oc's typical dinner like? Do they usually eat dinner, and if so, how regularly? Do they eat alone or with someone else? What would their ideal dinner be?

🍜 Do they love cooking dinner or would they rather eat somewhere else or order takeout?

🥘 Does your oc prefer a quick, calm dinner or would they rather have a very long one?

SNACKS & CO.

🍩 What is their favorite dessert? Do they get it often? What is their go-to dessert?

🥕 They are packing some snacks because they're going to be away from home for a while. What do they take with them? What's their opinion on trail mix?

🍒 How often do they eat berries and other kinds of veggies?

🥞 Your oc is ordering food from a fast food chain. They can also pick something else than the main meals. What do they buy?

🍦 Your oc wakes up at night, feeling hungry. Do they go eat? If yes, what will they eat?

🫖 Does your oc eat anything between dinner and going to sleep? How often?

☕️ Does your oc eat anything between lunch and dinner? How often?

[n1su1218]

6B4T

Lately there has been talk about 4B and so I wanted to bring up 6B4T which grew from the South Korean 4B movement, and specially the 6B4T movement as it is practiced by our Chinese sisters. Before that however differences between the both are as followed:

4B

No sex with men

No giving birth

No dating men

No marriage with men

6B4T

Includes the original commandments of 4B and adds the following:

Don’t buy products from misogynistic brands

Support single women/women that have chosen to be celibate

Reject the corset (rejecting toxic beauty standards)

Reject idol culture (as in male-worship and idolization of entertainment figures this ALSO includes rejecting idol culture for female kpop idols/entertainers)

Reject otaku culture (rejecting misogynistic anime culture)

Reject religion

(**You may see 6B4T referred to as 10bt to avoid censorship as CN social media sites are heavily monitored by government censors, even outside of CN social media CN sisters will still refer to it as 10bt because 6b + 4t = 10bt)

Now that there's a basic understanding... I wanted to talk about some of the differences that the CN 6B4T movement has compared to what I usually encounter in English speaking radfem circles. Please note that this is my own experience and as with any political movement there can a myriad of women that agree and disagree (except on the 6B4T principles as a whole, those are rock solid for them haha.)

I was first aware of this movement around 2020 and have been following women on twitter/x since then that follow these beliefs. All of this has been gathered from tweets by 6B4T users on twitter/x + interactions with them. I am not a CN speaker and have used translation apps to piece together details on the 6B4T movement and have cross referenced this with some of the writings I can find in English about this and the conversations that I have had with some of the 10bt sisters that were willing to interact with me.

I do not feel comfortable just singling out specific accounts for people to look up on twitter but anyone that wants to do their own research can search the keywords on twitter 6B4T or 10bt and go under the "People" filter to populate accounts of CN women that have 6B4T and/or 10bt in their bio.

One thing that I want to talk about right away - the term donkey. It will come up quite often when you search 10bt accounts and is used to describe women that are perpetuating patriarchy because they "carry the patriarchy without protest and allow themselves to be exploited." (This includes married women.) 10bt sisters DO NOT have an emphasis on educating women that perpetuate patriarchy. You can find sayings such as:

"Feminism is like being given a weapon to support yourself with, do not use it to commit suicide by having a complex of saving donkeys" 

“Don't do donkey work for donkeys".

“Don’t get derailed by women support women, leave the donkeys alone.”

Which leads me to the next point - 10bt sisters are for empowering women independently. There is obvious acknowledgement of bonds and relationships between women but the general feeling is more to focus on the individual self, connections are based solely on shared interests and can be let go of as needed. (I have also seen discussions of letting go of romantic ties not just for straight sisters but for lesbian sisters as well.) Sentiments such as "focusing on oneself is a foundation for a happy life" "All thoughts and ideologies cannot be separated from down to earth efforts and dedication" are plenty. Really a focus away from "altruistic" causes so to speak

And on that note: anti veganism. 10bt sisters in general are adamant that 6B4T principles should only include tackling patriarchy and not have other causes added to it. Anti veganism sentiment also seems to stem from certain aspects in CN culture of serving smaller portions to young girls and discouraging them to eat meat as opposed to men. The focus on improving one's self from before also shows up here: "Women need strength to overthrow patriarchy, only then should we focus on improving the lives of animals."

Some 10bt sisters are also very open about criticism and believe women that openly identify with the 10bt movement should be prepared to have their posts critiqued, and while some will debate this... one of the things that is absolutely non negotiable is that actions MUST back up words. There’s lots of debates that go on in the 10bt movement but the bare minimum is that if you follow 6B4T then you must follow its core beliefs otherwise what are you here for? There is a huge disdain for those that say they belong to this movement but don’t follow its beliefs.

With that being said, how do the 10bt sisters feel about 4B taking off in the states? Well…

 “4B grew into 6B4T and they only dared to do half of the movement? It’s disappointing.”

“At this point in time, it is crazy to deliberately go back and start from 4B. You have someone’s shoulder to stand on but you won’t take it.”

“4B: No marriage, no giving birth , no sex, no dating. Doesn't that mean they are still serving as donkeys: supporting idols and otaku, believing in religion, using pornographic content, and consuming misogynistic brands... It really makes one recognize by a glance what stupid things they are still doing.”

“I don't understand how this kind of castration of the feminist movement came about.”

Is some of the general consensus on twitter/x.

Two more things I will add here before I wrap this up:

I have seen a post in English about other principles to follow such as 5B, 7B or 8B. I am not aware of what these principles are and could not find a CN source to confirm this so if 5B, 7B and 8B do exist, I do not believe it originated from the CN movement. 

There is also the concept of icing men out aka if a man comments on your social media posts immediately delete the comment EVEN if it is a comment in agreement. For this while I also could not find a specific CN source for the 10bt sisters, it feels like it is just natural to not interact with men. I have yet to see debates on whether someone can be part of 10bt and still have a boyfriend, husband, etc since the answer will always be a resounding NO. (And on this note… if you are curious about attitudes towards male family members.. rejection of filial piety is something that is very agreed upon. I would recommend first learning what filial piety entails in CN culture as whole if there is curiosity about this.)

I will wrap this up with one of my favorite concepts I have encountered from our 10bt sisters:

“When one woman keeps house*: five women are trapped: herself, daughter, mother, sister-in-law, and female coworkers”

[*keeps house meaning  - “when one woman marries…”] 

If there are sisters out here who are involved with this or have more info to add please feel free to do so! Also would love to get in touch with any that know more on the CN 10bt movement.  

[pennyserenade]

common people | jim o'mahony (the delinquent season) x reader

summary | old enough to know better, but too exhausted by life to really think about it, you have an affair with a man you met on the bus. rating | (explicit) tags/warnings | explicit smut, questionable morals, age gap (reader is in her mid to late 20s, jim is in his early 40s), pinv, angst, infidelity, unprotected sex word count | 3.6k+ a/n | this is sadder than i intended it to be, and perhaps less sexy because of it because at the end of the day i fear i'm a thought daughter more than a thot daughter. one day we'll find the balance, girls. just not today. love ya

The line that drew you here – sitting on the bed in your shoddy three bedroom flat with your mouth wrapped around Jim’s fingers – is by no means a straight and narrow one.

It had begun with a glance. You had done it because you wanted to feel seen. Jim had sat on the opposite side of the bus, wearing a puffy winter jacket, his black hair peppered compelling with visible grays, and his face had been indifferent as he watched out the window of the bus. With his arms crossed over his chest and his lips pressed into a pout, he struck you as an interesting subject. You had allowed your eyes to roam over the sharp sculpt of his jaw, and to inspect the enticing dust of freckles along the bridge of his nose, which danced out to the hollow of his cheeks. Then you caught his eyes as he turned his head in your direction. The sweet thrill of being noticed itched up your spine, just the way you were used to it doing.

Jim hadn’t let his face of plain indifference shatter in the wake of being watched, but you knew that he was watching you too, and that was enough. That wasn’t to say he was special. There’d been other people - other men - whom you had engaged in this game of sorts with before. Before Jim, it really meant nothing. You did it with people you didn’t even find all that attractive, just to know you could. There was the power in the act of maintaining eye contact with these people, and you liked the ambiguity that resided in the length of your stares–what it could suggest, or what it could lead to, even though it never had. The only thing that separated Jim from all of them was that he looked back for longer, and in his eyes you saw something more potent.

Sometimes you wonder, the way you, as the other woman, are apt to do, about the way he is different for his wife. Does he gather her in his lap? Does she put her mouth around his fingers and does he hum in delight for her, too? Or is this yours, just as that first shared glance was on the bus?

His fingers sit heavy on your tongue now. They taste of nothing. You arch into his body and his lips form into a smirk that makes you bloom inside with an insidious warmth. This man is someone’s husband, and he is spending a Tuesday afternoon in your bedroom. He is the creature of adulthood that lurks in your barely post-graduation adobe, a shape of security who sometimes brings your flatmates bottles of inexpensive ale and dinner to keep them amiable when his wedding band gleams in their direction. To make matters worse, he is older than you – so much so that you wouldn’t like to tell your mother about it, even if he wasn’t married.

Drawing his wet fingers out of your mouth, Jim trails them down your body, bunching up the fabric of your sleep shorts between his fists like a greedy child. You reach between your bodies and pull the leather out of his belt buckle. The clack of it resounding through your stuffy room makes you feel obscene and naughty. He marvels at the way you take initiative, his blue eyes following the diligent movements of your fingers as they work the belt through the hoops in his pants.

He leans back on the bed for you, and with a soft sigh, he accepts the cold tips of your fingers dancing across the skin of his lower stomach. You linger there, tickling over the hair below his belly button, relishing in the warmth his body has trapped beneath his jumper.

Before you pull the sweater up any higher, he takes your eager hands in his palms. “I didn’t even ask you how your day was yet, you know?” he says, voice airy—too light for how earnest you feel about fucking him.

A coil of frustration winds up inside of you. It must be treason, these small intimacies of his. Not only is he a husband but a father, too: an island of his own; a man with a country to abandon, to betray.

You offer him a placid smile. “It was slow. I was waiting for you.” Your fingers escape his grasp and he winces when they race out to his warm skin again.

“Mine was fine too, thanks,” he laughs, his own fingers gripping onto your hips. You ignore him, in no mood for conversation.

Jim allows you to draw his shirt above his arms. He pulls you closer against him after you do, your body flat against his exposed chest. You can smell the tea you made him on his breath, and feel the lustful fascination he has with you poking against your hip. He may be the most interesting thing that has ever happened to you, and you might be his.

You snake your hand down the front of his jeans, measuring the width of his want, the strength of your appeal. “Fuck,” he hums against your mouth. The deep timbre of his voice runs through you, causing slick to gather between your legs.

Jim opens his mouth for you, licking his tongue against yours as his fingers slide down the slope of your stomach to your clothed cunt. When you draw out a surprised breath, Jim inhales, taking your air before pressing his lips harshly upon yours. One hand curls round the back of your neck, holding you there. There’s a primal aspect to this, some need that existed before the both of you being manifested. His other hand cups your cunt, and he watches with invested interest as you grind down into his palm, desperate for release of any kind.

After a few moments of you grinding above him, Jim retracts his hand from you. Smiling, he takes off your shirt as you undo your bra. It’s a dance you’ve practiced so many times together, and it happens without falter or failure this time. You fist a handful of his salt and pepper hair as his warm tongue traces circles around your freshly exposed nipple.

Moaning softly, you rut against his crotch, trying to relieve the ache that grows between your legs as the warmth of his mouth wets your pert nipple. His tongue begins to trail up, wetting the skin of your chest, and he guides you back on to the bed. Nibbing softly at the skin below your ear, Jim’s hands slip off your shorts. You help, raising up your hips.

He smiles down at you, a soft, gentle thing, and you feel like a co-conspirator–a shameful title, but oddly thrilling all the same.

“Oh, Jim,” you say softly, before he has even touched you. Caging your lip between your teeth, you watch him as he stands on his knees before you, making room between your legs. Your head feels full. He doesn’t even bother with taking off his slacks. With the tip of his cock leaking already, he strokes himself, showing you, allowing you to see what you wanted to all those months ago on that bus: how much he wants you, how much you can be wanted. It is an accident– an incredible error–that you throb at him looking at you lovingly as much as wantonly these days.

You’ve read the reddit forums: women, like you, who know better and do wrong anyway. You’ve read entire threads about the reasons why they do it, and how they cope with it, and most of all, you search out the women who have seen themselves all the way through it. It scares you to think of all the paths this could lead to, when it wasn’t ever meant to lead to anywhere. Will you be the jilted lover in the end? One of the women who talk about how liberating it is to be free from something so private and soul crushing? Or will you end up concocting a story with him like the women who marry their men do? The ones who say they met on vacations or in bars months after the divorces have been filed so as not to be treated cruelly by the public? And could you live being either of those things?

“Missed you so goddamn much,” Jim whispers against your mouth, bracketing your head between his hands. You take his bottom lip between your teeth, kissing him hard, pulling him more closely to your body, as if your desire will eradicate that you want more than just lust from him these days.

He lines himself up to your entrance, his intense eyes watching your face twist up as he inches inside of you slowly. Jim is thick, and a little bigger than the other men you’ve been with in the past. It takes a moment for you to adjust around him, but he gives you it, kissing you tenderly until he‘s bottomed out inside of you. “Gotta be quiet,” he whispers against your lips. He swallows harshly then, as if having to digest his own sounds.

You feel the ghost of his breath against your chest when he hangs it down, watching the way you connect together. Wrapping your legs around his waist, you allow him to go deeper, pleading with him inaudibly to stay inside for longer. His hand pushes strands of your hair away from your face. Sweat begins to gather between your bodies, and he moves inside of you with the care of someone who is used to being discreet.

When the bed begins to creak beneath the sway of his hips, something primal unfurls inside of you. It is evidence that this is real. Evidence he allows - that he encourages - his needy fingers moving down, griping the flesh of your thigh as his cock slides back inside of you with ease. He grunts against your shoulder. “Fuck. Fuck, you’re so wet, darling,” he says. “Wanted me badly?”

You nod, turning to your head to capture his lips. You slide your hand underneath the waistband of his slacks, gripping onto his ass, guiding the movements of his hips as they press into your own. You feel an overwhelming desire for him, a thing bigger than you would like. It is warm, and blinding, and makes you stupid. “Wish you could be inside of me all day,” you say, meaning it.

“Fuck,” he whines. “I want—I want that, too. You’re taking me so good.”

You can feel the increasing ease with which he settles deeper and deeper into your body. “You make me feel so good,” you tell him. Your voice feels like it’s coming from some place deep inside of you, another version, who wants everything and can say it.

“Do I?” he manages to say, eyebrows threading together. He’s not really paying attention to what’s coming out of his mouth no more than you are. His eyes drop, looking at you beneath him, and then his head does too. His mouth wraps around your pebbled nipple, tongue swiping against your chest. He hums: the same satisfied song he sang you when you put your mouth around his fingers.

“Do you fuck her like this?” something inside of you speaks, hungry, desperate, needy. “Your wife?”

Too turned on to stop, or perhaps prepared for this inevitable question of yours, Jim gives an abashed, crooked smile, but does not stop.

“I fuck you like this,” he whispers, his voice low and sultry. It is such a non-answer, clever and just right. His hand comes up and gropes at your breast.

For a moment you imagine it, let the whole idea take place. Some woman you do not know, a faceless but important woman, older and wiser. She wears a wedding band on her left ring finger, and is elegant and caring. He has told you that she likes to go to the theater, and that she is a good mother. She is not the type to cheat. In fact, she is hardly the type to have a husband that cheats, either, but then life can be impossibly cruel, and not what you imagined it might be. Jim pulses inside of her, telling her he loves her, meaning it, probably. When she says she loves his cock inside of her, it doesn’t sound needy or submissive but erotic, demanding, and he asks her for another child, maybe. The things you do to save a marriage.

A man can only have so much, and you’ve never been particularly demanding. You won’t win this. Even here, under him: you want to give him everything, to allow him to tell you what to be and when to be it. His hand curls around your mouth, his head burying in the hollow of your neck. There is the warmth of his tongue against your flushed skin, and the idea that he could leave whatever marks he might like on you, despite the fact that you can’t do the same to him. You’d let him, happily. This he knows.

He does not tell you that he loves you, but instead mutters, “I want to make you feel good.”

In some ways, you have more than his wife does. Maybe what he’s given you has more weight, more truth; maybe it will last indefinitely longer than marriage vows that have been said and broken. You grip onto one of his arms as he pushes inside of you. You tell him, “You are.”

His skin has grown damp and warm beneath your fingers. You run your hands down his back, becoming intimate with the muscle and sinew of his frame as it writhes above yours. He grunts as the movement of his hips become more frantic—shorter and steadier thrusts, the creak of the bed too loud as he settles himself deeply inside of you.

It doesn’t make you feel embarrassed. It doesn’t even make you ashamed. An overwhelming flame of desire engulfs your soul, and all you can focus on is the way he feels: hot, warm, the full length of him stretching you and yet still looking to go deeper and deeper still. His mouth finds your shoulder, and you listen as he pants against the flesh there, stalling an inevitable end. He slows down, and you relish the slow push and pull he does with his hips. You’re sure you’ve never been so wet in your life, and he seems to agree, moaning at the sound of your cunt taking him.

“I want to ride you,” you puff out, brushing your lips against his ear. He nods eagerly in agreement, and you assist in pulling down his slacks until they’re hanging around his ankles.

Deftly, he kicks them off into a dark corner of your room, and then looks up at you, light eyes clouded with lust. “I love when you tell me things like that,” he tells you softly.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” His hand finds your breast, his mouth sliding across the column of your throat. “You’re so fucking hot. You gonna cum on my cock?”

He twitches inside you and you kiss him hard on the mouth. “Yes,” you whisper back.

Jim pulls out of you slowly. He sits in the spot next to you on the bed, lifting himself up onto his elbows in anticipation. You straddle him, gripping onto his shoulder for balance. He offers you a tender smile as his fingers grip onto your hip in encouragement. “Take what you want, then,” he nods.

Your fingers wrap around his cock, slick and hot, and his eyes dart down to watch as you line him up to your entrance. As you slide down onto him, Jim closes his eyes, leaning his head back against his shoulder and moaning softly. He looks so beautiful like that: his jaw clenching just beneath the surface of his taut skin, his hair mussed from your hands running through it, his cheeks glowing red from desire.

You press your chest to his and kiss the middle of his throat. His fingers travel over the swell of your ass, and you begin to move your hips for him. “That’s it,” he hums, opening his eyes. You maintain eye contact as you draw up off of him. It is as if you are the only two people in the world, your hands playing with the hair at the nape of his neck, the head of his cock sitting at your entrance. He lets out a sigh in relief when you slide back onto him. One of his hands reaches up and splays out across the small of your back, guiding you as you move. Your breathing becomes more shallow, and the hazy sensation of an orgasm begins to grow in your pelvis as you grind down into him.

Sensing this, Jim’s lips twitch up into a smirk. “So tight for me,” he mutters. His lips brush against your warm chest. “Fuck, and you’re wet. Not gonna last much longer like this.”

You tuck your face into his neck, panting softly as your hips roll into his. You listen to the soft grunts that fall involuntarily from his lips, and think about him cumming inside of you. He’s done it once before, and you liked it more than you should—it’s another sign of his desire for you to devour.

The orgasm hits you in waves and you gasp, gripping helplessly at his shoulder for purchase. Every limb in your body seems to give into the sensation, until you are reduced to nothing but that warm glow spreading rapidly through you. He kisses along your shoulder, your collarbone, tucking an arm around your back to support you as you slump down onto him.

You feel him twitch dangerously inside of you, and know that if you go for a little longer, he’ll cum too. Gathering the last of your strength, you lift your hips, watching between your bodies as his cock plunges inside of you. His fingers brush against your stomach, and the air between you becomes little more than a shared moan.

“I’m gonna cum,” he warns. He gives you the choice of what to do. You rest your head against his, your noses brushing against each other as you pick up the pace. He cums inside of you with a strangled gasp, and you smile when the hot spurts of his want fill you. His fingers press into your sides, his body stiff beneath you.

For a moment you sit like that, his cock buried impossibly deep inside of you, your fingers intertwined in his hair. Sweat mats his fringe to his forehead in places, and he swallows harshly, his breathing labored. You can’t find it in yourself to be ashamed that you don’t want to part from him as you brush his hair away from his eyes, smiling.

He smiles back, content. All the lust that once filled his eyes is replaced with an affection you consider infinitely more dangerous. You lay against his shoulder and close your eyes. His heart thuds against the cage of his chest and his fingers stroke your back softly.

“I’m sorry for what I asked,” you murmur. The shame finds its way to you.

“It’s s’alright.” His lips brush against your shoulder. “I haven’t fucked her in a long time. Not like that. I’m not saying that just to make you feel better.”

“It doesn’t make me feel any better.” You lift your head off of him, meeting his eyes. “None of this does.”

“Do you want to stop?”

“You’re still in me, for Christ’s sake,” you laugh. He laughs too, and you know that’ll probably be the end of the conversation. A part of you is happy to let it go. You’re not ready to end this, even though you know you should. You don’t feel like the other woman, after all. She was meant to be more clever than this, wasn’t she? You feel like you’ve fallen into something you can’t get out of, something you’re terrified to even approach for what it might say about you.

“Hey,” he nudges his nose along your jaw. “You alright, then?”

“Sure,” you nod. “Stay a little while longer?”

“Yeah, of course.” He pats the hair on your head down, laying back on the pillow behind him. You rise up off of him, but still straddle his thighs. He holds you close, wrapping his arms around your torso. You can feel his cum trickle out of you.

“I like you a lot, if that’s any consolation. More than I should,” he tells you. “Enough to frighten me, really. I never thought I’d be this guy, you know? The cheater, especially with a younger woman. I don’t—you were the first I’ve ever felt anything for, you know?”

You lay your head on his chest again, and let out an amused laugh — though nothing feels particularly amusing. “Jim?”

“Yes?”

“You don’t have to convince me of anything.”

“Right.” He kisses your temple, staying there for a moment before pulling back and saying, “I’m just saying. I don’t want you to look back on this and think I thought of this as meaning nothing. It’s a big thing for me, too.”

You let out of a soft sigh, tracing up his freckled arms with your finger. “Jim?”

“Yes?”

“Will you fuck me again? I don’t want to talk about this anymore. ”

He laughs softly, kissing below your ear. “Of course,” he responds, his hot breath cascading across your sensitive neck. “Only this time, tell me what you want, love. I want to hear you say it.”

[whtepony]

NSFW ALPHABET | eijiro kirishima

ft. eijiro kirishima x afab reader

warnings: no pronouns used but reader has a vagina, cucking, i think that might be it? this one isn’t too crazy y’all!! not proofread!

notes: for everyone who asked for kiri!!! he’s so husband material aghhhhhdbdndjdj hope u guys enjoy

aftercare: what he’s like after sex

i think he’s one of the most attentive partners you could have! he asks you directly what he can do for you while he’s cleaning you up a bit with a warm towel. he’ll give you anything you ask for, whether it be food, water, a shower, something funny to watch, or to just cuddle and be together. he likes to massage your hips while you spoon just in case he hurt you (even if you tell him a dozen times he didn’t). he just wants to make sure!!

body part: his fav on you and his fav on himself

on himself, eijiro likes his back and shoulders. he puts in a lot of time at the gym and it shows! he’s very proud of it and loses his mind if you compliment his back muscles. god damn. on you, he likes your legs - yeah, mostly your thighs, but really all of your legs. he loves when you wear things that show them off and has a tendency to kiss you from your ankles alllllll the way up before he eats you out. he has a picture of him laying between your thighs that was definitely his lock screen for a long while.

cum: anything to do with cum

eijiro is a smart man. unless you’re actively trying for a baby or it’s a really special occasion, he avoids cumming inside you so you have a lower chance of any surprises. but goddd if it isn’t his favorite thing in the world. he enjoys finishing on your ass or stomach but nothing compares to how it feels to paint your insides. he thinks it’s partly a possessive thing - seeing his cum drip out of you makes him feel like only he could ever do this, like he’ll be the only one to ever claim you that way. asks you soooo politely to take a picture on the few occasions it does happen and keeps them in a hidden folder that he opens when he’s missing you.

dirty secret: a dirty secret of his

he secretly would like to be cucked but doesn’t think it’d be emotionally healthy for him, so he never brings it up. he’s actually very possessive and probably couldn’t handle sharing you like that. but every once in a while, he’ll fantasize about watching katsuki fuck you in front of him, only to shake the thought from his head immediately afterwards. he’s more likely to bring up a threesome than to ever bring up this fantasy of his, because then he could be involved in some way - he’d have some sense of control then. as hot as it could be, he’s worried that his best friend would fuck you better!

experience: how experienced is he?

you’re definitely not his first, but there haven’t been very many before you. i’d say he’s probably had three or four previous partners and he clearly learned a lot from being with them! he’s a very attentive lover and a quick learner. he pays attention to what you like and don’t like, and he’ll check in with you often to make sure you’re enjoying yourself.

favorite position: self explanatory

he is a doggy and prone bone LOVERRR. literally anything that lets him look at and grab your ass. he’s an ass man and these give him a great view!! he loves how deep he can get in either position, and especially likes being able to put his full weight on top of you in prone bone. he won’t hurt you, but he knows you like being pressed up against each other like that and it gives him easy access to kiss your neck n talk in your ear. it also makes him feel hugeee bc he easily covers your entire body.

goofy: is he more funny or serious in the moment?

i think he’s a good mix of both! he loves to make you laugh but is capable of completely ruining you in the next second. he’s aware that sex is kinda funny sometimes and will take advantage of that (especially if something isn’t going as planned) but not to the point where it ruins the mood.

hair: anything to do with grooming

he doesn’t shave but keeps it in check. he keeps it trimmed fairly short and is pretty good about maintaining it, but he doesn’t mind shaving if you ask him to. he couldn’t care less about whether or not you shave bc either way he is IN THEREE. truly does not have a preference and will tell you how pretty you look no matter what. he just wants you to feel confident in yourself, so he likes whatever you like!

intimacy: how is he with the romantic aspect?

he is very tender and loving. not to be mistaken with gentle. he could be fucking the life out of you but you can still tell he’s doing it with soooo much adoration for you. this man worships the ground you walk on. he kisses every inch of your skin and tells you how incredibly beautiful you are to him because he means it! eijiro is the number one loverboy and plans out super romantic sex for anniversaries and your birthday. he’s the type of man to hit you with the trail of rose petals and candlelight before fucking your brains out just because he loves you!

jack off: anything to do with masturbation

he has a pretty high sex drive so depending on how much he gets to see you, he jerks off fairly often. he doesn’t like porn but has an album in his phone full of pictures you’ve sent him or the two of you together. sometimes if he knows you’re not busy but can’t be with you for some reason he’ll call you for phone sex because the sound of your voice helps him get off. bonus points if you’re touching yourself at the same time

kink: a kink of his

i’ve said it before and i’ll say it again. eijiro kirishima has a size and strength kink. he LOVES being bigger than you and showing off his strength in bed. a big fan of a mating press because it’s just so easy to fold you in half! even if you’re tall or plus sized he is so so strong and the way he handles you makes it seem like you’re tiny. he’s also like. huge. so you probably are small compared to him, no matter what. this extends to how big his dick is as well - he’s thick and seeing the way you literally stretch around him drives him insane.

location: his favorite place to do it

eiji just likes to have you in bed, away from anyone else’s eyes or other distractions. he likes having the space to kinda toss you around and wants you to be as comfortable as possible. he’s okay with other places around your place if you live together, but ultimately he’s gonna want to have you in bed, which also makes aftercare and cleanup easier!

motivation: what gets him going

uh, the wind? anything you do has this man bricked up. wearing his clothes? doing your makeup? talking? laughing? bending over? kissing him? he’s ready. everything you do is sexy to him. he does especially love when you initiate though; you coming to him and letting him know you’re in the mood will always do it for him. he likes to feel wanted by you, so tell him you want him! if you come up behind him while he’s doing something and start rubbing his shoulders while you whisper in his ear he will take you to bed as soon as humanly possible.

no: something he won’t do

i feel like he isn’t into degradation at all. he thinks it doesn’t feel natural and why would he want to be mean to you anyway? he doesn’t mean any of that, so why would he say it? the most you could get out of him is him calling you a slut or something but even then it takes some convincing and he’ll only do it if he’s absolutely positive you want it. he has moral qualms with slut shaming and doesn’t really like calling you anything in that vain 😭

oral: preference giving or receiving

d1 eater. munch. face seat. this guy loves eating pussy and genuinely could die happy between your thighs. he likes receiving, don’t get me wrong, but he absolutely adores making you cum on his tongue. he’s waking you up with it and putting you to sleep with it. if he grew facial hair he’d be one of those guys that has bleached patches because he is just alwayyyssss eating you out. he likes having you sit on his face and will pull you down onto his mouth if you start to lift your hips. argue with the wall he is a MUNCH!

pace: fast, slow, stamina, etc

i think his stamina is pretty average and he tends to go fast and deep. his strokes are consistent and he’s good at pacing himself so he won’t get too tired before he can make you cum. he never ever finishes before you because he’s a gentleman! he usually is done after one round but if you want more he’s happy to use his mouth and fingers until you’re satisfied.

risk: is he game to experiment or take risks?

he has no problem trying new things but it’s usually something brought up by you. he knows what he likes and doesn’t typically feel the need to switch things up unless you express that desire. he isn’t particularly risky (e.g public sex) but he’s happy to experiment privately! sometimes he’ll see a tiktok or tweet about something you haven’t tried together and send it to you in case it was something you were afraid to bring up. he wants you to be able to tell him about the things you’re curious about so you can try them together, and he isn’t particularly bothered if it doesn’t work out!

stamina: how many rounds can he go?

like i said he’s usually satisfied after one round but on occasions where he’s particularly excited or pent up he can go two or (rarely) three rounds. you guys have sex often so he usually doesn’t feel the need to go several rounds, and he also gets overstimulated pretty easily, so he needs a little bit of downtime in between!

toys: does he own toys? does he use them?

he owns one fleshlight from before you got together but hardly ever uses it. once in a blue moon if you’ve been apart for a long time he’ll bring it out but he usually doesn’t feel the need to. he doesn’t mind using toys together but i don’t think he necessarily goes out of his way to do so! but uh if he catches you using one he’s finishing you off with it before fucking you himself.

unfair: how much does he like to tease?

eijiro kinda spoils you but he doesn’t really care. in his eyes, you deserve it! he doesn’t tease you too much because if you even give him the slightest signal that you want something he’s folding immediately. he just wants to make you happy! he’s not a fan of orgasm denial, he much prefers to overstimulate you if anything.

volume: how loud is he?

like i said before he’s all in your ear lmao. i wouldn’t say he’s loud but he’s very vocal. he moans so so so pretty and gets louder when he cums. he’s fairly talkative as well, he tells you alllll about how good your pussy feels and how good you’re taking him. he’s capable of being quiet but why would he be? he wants you to know how good you make him feel so why would he ever hold it back? he doesn’t understand guys who are quiet in bed and never has. he loves to tell you how much he adores you when he’s giving you the dicking down of the century and he thinks it’s cute when you get all flustered from it!

wild card: random headcanon

he whines if you pull his hair. that’s it.

x-ray: what’s going on underneath those clothes?

whew. 6.7 inches hard and sooo thick and heavy. slightly thicker just below the tip. he has a few prominent veins and it’s so so pretty just like the rest of him!! his tip is slightly pink and tbh he leaks a lot of pre, especially when you start touching him. he’s just gorgeous. i can’t even explain it.

yearning: how high is his sex drive?

high!! his love language is physical touch and this definitely extends into your sex life. he’s crazy about you and genuinely always wants to be touching you. if you’re living together, you probably have sex four or five times a week on average; he specifically makes time for it, even if your schedules clash. he wants you to know how much he appreciates you and shows it through world ending orgasms

zzz: how fast does he fall asleep afterwards?

he gets a short little burst of energy directly afterwards, which he uses to clean up and get you taken care of in any way you might need. but honestly, he is crashing not long after. he puts a lot of effort in! once he’s sure you’re comfortable he is knocked tf out in minutes and sleeps like the dead. he gets great sleep because if you’re around, you’re basically fucking each other to sleep most nights!

[buckets-and-trees]

Stella!

Your generous comments/commentary have me totally blushing and googly-eyed! Thank you for taking time to share them. 💕

I vehemently believe that had Endgame not been this "end of an era" thing in for the MCU, Steve would have stayed. What he would have done afterwards? That depends and ranges, and that's where I think post-Endgame Steve can be fun to play with, but I totally get you in that it can be hit or miss on wanting to engage with fanfic after Endgame. I always try and approach a story with at least some unshakable piece of believability - characterization, reactions, logistical structures, etc - because I need it as a reader, but I NNNNNNEEEEEEEEEED it as a writer. It's really hard for me to write something where the reasoning is "because plot". There's a mild "because plot" moment that I let happen in chapter three of this very WIP, and it's still eating at me... I'm gonna have to work it out in chapter 4 or 5 because it's bugging me! 🤣

Anyway...

The lines you pulled out - these I loved. This relationship between Pepper and Steve was really special for me to conceptualize. I think it would be a really viable and wonderful possibility that could have developed in a post-Endgame reality. Two people who knew and cared about Tony but/and also knew the frustrations of disagreeing with him on a fundamental level. And I think also some similar themes in personality - lots of responsibility, care for others, etc.

As we get further into the tory, one of the things I'm really interested in exploring is Steve feeling ike he's in the bonds tour machine again but realizing he CAN be the true captain of the ship if he takes the reigns - and it's here in the prologue, but Pepper approached him because she knows the person he is and sees leadership potential. I'm excited for the romantic plot, but the personal and political plot for me is also why I'm excited about and loving writing this story.

Thank you for supporting with your comments. You so aptly dissected exactly the what and why that I had behind each of those moments! Special story, and special to know when you and others connect back with me and are on board for this journey, too! 🩵

Red, White & True - Prologue

Characters/Pairings: Steve Rogers (future x curvy Millennial Female!Reader), Pepper Potts Word Count: 1.3k Summary: "There was an idea..." Words at the heart of what brought the Avengers together. Steve Rogers is no longer an Avenger, having retired after The Snap and passed his shield along to Sam Wilson, but Pepper Potts has a new idea to bring Steve back out of retirement - but in a totally different arena.

Content/Warnings: none

Notes: This takes place in a post-Endgame scenario where Steve stays and generally most of TFATWS happened.

↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

PROLOGUE

[MAY 1 - Upstate New York]

“You know I’m always happy to come out to the farm,” Steve says, rinsing the last plate and handing it to the strawberry blonde woman so she can dry and put it back on the shelf. “I love to see you and Morgan. But what do you want to talk to me about, Pepper?”

Pepper gives him a tight-lipped smile. “Let’s go to the study,” she answers, and leads the way to the back of the modern but rustic home. She takes a seat on the couch and motions for Steve to sit on the other end.

“I was sitting right here when Tony stood over there,” she nods her head toward a spot in front of Steve, “and told me he figured out the science of time travel.”

Steve’s chest aches at her words. “Pepper…”

She holds up a hand to stop him. “No, don’t apologize. I told him that was amazing and terrifying. Then we sat here together and really talked. He told me he could stop, put a pin in it, that part of him wanted to bury the idea in a lock box at the bottom of the lake. But I reminded him that we were lucky not to have lost each other in the Blip and so many others weren’t.”

She pauses for a moment and looks to the mantle where there’s a small, retired arc reactor on display. Steve waits for her to continue.

“When I started working for him, I had no idea where it would all lead. I certainly didn’t have aspirations to date my boss or become the CEO of Stark Industries. Tony will always be the love of my life, and each day that goes by, each month, each year, I miss him, but the missing hurts less. What’s left is the whisper, the urge of the legacy of everything that’s still here and what I can do with it. I haven’t been idle, but I’ve been trying to ignore my own time travel issue, if you will.”

Steve can hardly hold himself back from scoffing. “The medical research, the humanitarian initiatives, the scientific advances you’re still spearheading, it’s just not really enough if you can’t solve for world peace,” he jokes.

Pepper cocks her head slightly. “The thing is, I have an idea of where I could start on that last one.”

Steve’s eyebrows knit together, and he studies her face. “Okay…” he knew his voice was conveying his curiosity but also his trepidation.

“Stark Industries helps a lot of people, but there are things I can’t help no matter how hard I try there. The world is in a bigger mess than science can help, only so much can be done with humanitarian work, and there’s an area that’s haunting me because I’ve tried to stay out of it for as long as I could, and I just don’t think I can any more, not and still sleep at night.”

“Well, then let’s talk about it. You know I’m here for you, whatever you need. I don’t know how you think I can help, but clearly you’ve got an idea.”

“I know you retired one suit, but I’d like you to think about another.”

“Pep-”

“Not that kind of suit,” she interrupts. “There are still some good, decent people in politics, but money has poisoned so much of what goes on - lobbyists, special interests, politicians needing to fundraise. But I’ve got money. I could fund a campaign.”

Steve frowns. “What exactly are you proposing?”

“I need a candidate, and there’s no one I would trust more than you. I want to finance your campaign to run for President of the United States.”

Steve's eyes widen, and he feels as if the air has been sucked out of the room. His mouth opens and closes, but he can’t think of any initial words to come out. He stands abruptly, his legs carrying him to the large window overlooking the serene lake outside. The late afternoon sun casts a golden glow across the water, creating a stark contrast to the turmoil in his mind.

"President?" he finally manages to croak out, his voice barely above a whisper. He turns back to face Pepper, his brow furrowed deeply. "Pepper, I... I don't know the first thing about running a country. I've been a soldier, an Avenger, but never a politician."

Pepper leans forward, her eyes bright with determination. "That's exactly why you'd be perfect, Steve. You're not entrenched in the political machine. You have a moral compass that's unwavering, and a desire to help those who need it, no matter what.”

“And sometimes I failed.”

“It made you wiser every time.”

Steve plants his hands on his hips and sighs. “Pep, I’m just a kid from Brooklyn who wanted to serve his country.”

Pepper leans forward, her eyes intense and earnest. "And you've done that, Steve. You've served this country in ways most people can't even imagine. Think about what you could do as President. The impact you could have, the changes you could make. You've always fought for what's right, even when it wasn't easy or popular. That's exactly what this country needs right now."

Steve turns back to the window, his mind racing. He thinks of all the battles he's fought, the sacrifices he's made. Could he really make a difference from the Oval Office? Or would the political machine chew him up and spit him out?

"What about my past?" he asks, still facing the lake. "The Accords, going rogue, all of it. It would all come out in a campaign."

He hears Pepper stand and approach him. She places a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Your past is part of what makes you the right person for this, Steve. You've shown that you're willing to stand up for what you believe in, even when it costs you everything.”

He can feel Pepper's eyes on him, waiting for a response. He takes a deep breath, trying to organize his thoughts.

"I appreciate your faith in me, Pepper. I really do," he begins, still facing the lake. "But this isn't like leading a team into battle. The complexities of running a country, the constant scrutiny, the compromises you have to make... I'm not sure I'm cut out for that."

"Steve, that's exactly why you'd be perfect for this. You understand the weight of responsibility. You've made tough decisions under pressure. And most importantly, you have a clear vision of what's right and what's wrong."

Steve turns to face her, his expression conflicted.

“I won’t lie to you,” she continues, “the public scrutiny will be worse, but it’s not something you’re unfamiliar with. Just like before, you’ll have people singing your praise and people ready to crucify you just for sport. But we’ll face it head-on. You won’t do any of it alone. We’ll put together a team of friends, people we trust, experts and strategists. We’ll find people outside our camp who will challenge us to make the campaign stronger. And when we get you in the White House, no president leads alone. You have a history of seeing the value in the people around you and bringing teams together. It’ll just be fighting a different fight.”

Steve thinks over her words. “In a different suit.”

She smiles. “You’ll do it?”

“Answer one more question for me.”

Pepper nods. “Anything.”

“Why do this?”

Steve sees the conviction settle in her entire demeanor, and that shift alone convinces him the rest of the way, but her words cement his resolve down to his core.

“Tony and Natasha didn’t sacrifice just to leave something broken behind. It’s time to help put things back together and try to leave a legacy of something better.”

go to chapter one: MANHATTAN & BROOKLYN

This is an idea that sparked in during the huge sleepover I hosted in July 2023, and it's been tantalizing me for a long time, but now the muse is finally ready to play with it! gee, I wonder why...

I can't wait to bring you along for the ride! This story will have 3-4 chapters, depending on where I split up the narrative. I anticipate about a chapter a week.

↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

I do not do tag lists, but FOLLOW @buckets-and-stories and TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS to be updated any time I publish a new work!

[lets-try-some-writing]

I read the story about the tiny feral Orion Pax and I want a second part where Alpha Trion randomly showed up at the Autobot base and told stories about how feral Optimus was when he was just a sparkling to the Autobots and humans alike. I think Ratchet might remember the incidents as he might have had to repair the little monster a few times

Hmm well I doubt he'd actually turn up at base proper, but I CAN see Smokescreen being the one to speak of things Alpha Trion told him. Bonus funnies if he has no clue that "Orion Pax" Is Optimus Prime.

The other piece with Trion can be found here. Plus the series of Smokey things this is attached to can be found here.

━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙ ━━━━━━━━━━━━

For once, the base was filled with laughter and cheer. After a particularly stressful battle, Wheeljack had seen fit to bring out high-grade for everyone's enjoyment. To 'let off steam' he said. Ratchet attempted to shut down the idea before it could fully root itself in the minds of those present, but surprisingly, Optimus permitted it. Perhaps the rumors weren't entirely true. Maybe Primes did party.

It hadn't taken long for the Wreckers to pull out cubes and start handing out Wheeljack's special brand of high-grade.Smokescreen had never been given the chance to indulge in the drink, but now that he was a warrior and Alpha Trion wasn't breathing down his neck, the overcharged liquid flowed freely. He felt a bit like a sparkling with his servo caught in the goodie jar, but he relaxed upon seeing Bumblebee whip out a straw and start going to town on his cube.

Admittedly, watching Bumblebee fuel was a bit unsettling since he lacked a good portion of his jaw, but Smokescreen simply refocused on his own treat.

The high-grade was sweet, almost like candy that had been melted down. And yet it was also bubbly, bordering on the texture and taste of a ration a few cycles from going bad. Despite both those things, Smokescreen found he enjoyed the drink, especially as a pleasant buzz started to run along his systems. The world seemed all the brighter as the high-grade quietly sent his auxiliary sensory protocols into hazy inactivity. Was this what the humans felt like all the time? Limited just to sight and hearing?

It was kind of novel.

As the high-grade flowed, Smokescreen noticed that the team seemed to share his feelings on the matter of overcharge. Before too long, bots laughed and sang; a few even began to open up. Smokescreen watched it all from the sidelines for the most part, listening as the Wreckers began exchanging stories and Arcee went into detail about a few of her more exciting missions. Even Bee chimed in with a retelling of some fun events that went on during training. But the story swapping didn't really get wild until Ratchet of all bots spoke up.

"There was this one time I had to patch up Orion. He apparently decided it would be a fantastic idea to attempt parkour like Jazz. Without any training, no less." The team laughed. Smokescreen snickered into his drink. The name Orion sounded familiar, but it was not something that immediately registered in his memory banks.

"Jazz dragged him into my clinic with a broken leg, one dislocated shoulder, half his plating shredded, and his right audial half torn off." Ratchet laughed, nudging Optimus with a shoulder. The Prime didn't comment and instead smiled softly as he sipped his drink. The team joined the medic in his mirth, commenting quietly and giggling like younglings.

"According to someone, 'it seemed like a great idea at the time'." The medic chuckled into his high-grade, more than a little buzzed due to it. As he did so, Smokescreen recognized the name at last.

"Oh, I think I know who you are talking about! Orion Pax! The head archivist! Alpha Trion told me all about him!" Smokescreen's words, thank Primus, didn't end up coming out too slurred as he spoke up. The team paused in their activities, their optics falling on him in interest. Even Optimus's optics widened in what he could only assume was interest. Smokescreen suffered momentary stage fright, but he continued on with his thought.

"Trion said that Orion was brought into the archives when he was still a sparkling, and that he was a little menace." Ratchet laughed outright at the statement, slapping Optimus's shoulder in amusement before going back to his drink all giggly. Wheeljack poured himself and the rest of the team another cube in response.

"Well, don't keep us waiting, kid. What'd the old cogger say?" Wheeljack grinned like a terrorcon, earning a baleful glare from Optimus. Smokescreen, however, in his high-grade fueled stupor, didn't recognize any potential danger and continued on with his story. Everyone seemed to be enjoying it after all.

"I never would have guessed the head archivist would be the way he was, but according to Trion, he liked to lick datapads." There was a momentary silence, one only emphasized by Optimus staring at Smokescreen in horror. He almost regretted opening his mouth, but that fear went flying out the window as Ratchet cackled and promptly slapped the nearest surface as he wheezed out his laughter. He was almost incoherent as he pointed at Optimus, his optics flashing with emotion only brought out by overcharged drinks. "I fragging knew my medical texts had fluid on them!" Smokescreen stared at Ratchet in momentary concern, but his focus was drawn back to the story he was telling as Arcee gave him a wolfish grin along with a question.

"He licked datapads?" The two-wheeler looked to be trying desperately to keep her composure. Smokescreen couldn't exactly blame her. There weren't many bots who had habits like the old head archivist. Licking datapads of all things, he could hardly picture the sanitary concerns. But then again, Smokescreen wasn't much better with a few of his well-hidden preferences.

"Yeah! Guess the head archivist thought they tasted good or something. Trion said Orion Pax never really got over the habit and occasionally gnawed on them when stressed." That was enough to have Bulkhead leaning against the nearest wall for support. Ratchet for his part dropped to his knees, clutching his abdomen as his vents flared in response to his howling laughter. He seemed to find it far more funny than anyone else, but the Doctor's reaction urged Smokescreen on, especially as Bumblebee snorted into his drink and splattered it on his face.

"That wasn't all he did, though! Alpha Trion told me all about how the head archivist used to climb the pillars in the archives! There were still claw marks in the metal when I was there." Another round of spark clenching laughter met his declaration. Arcee outright wheezed, trying desperately not to look in Optimus's direction. Bumblebee wasn't much better, or Wheeljack for that matter. Both looked a moment away from combusting as they tried to hold back laughter. Bulkhead just leaned harder against the wall, a servo brought up to his mouth as Ratchet cackled on the ground.

Smokescreen paused in his story, watching the team and their frantic attempts to not look at their Prime. He tilted his helm in confusion, watching as Optimus held his cube with a neutral expression. However, looking closer through his auxiliary heat sensing systems, Smokescreen could catch the faintest hints of what looked to be a blush of all things. Was this what the rumors meant when they said Primes didn't party?

"I was given the head archivist's old room while I was there, for that matter. It was just me with Trion most of the time, so I got the closest room to his, which just happened to be Pax's." Smokescreen rubbed his neck a little sheepishly, sensing that there was something he might have missed.

"He had some weird habits, sure. But I got to see a few of his old records, and he seemed really nice! Just a bit off is all." Somehow, his attempt at easing the strange tension coming from Optimus did the exactly opposite. He could almost see the way Optimus's shoulders slumped as Ratchet continued to lose his mind on the ground, drink forgotten.

"What sort of habits?" Bumblebee chimed in, his binary tones still a bit difficult to decipher, but not impossible. Smokescreen paused for a moment, unsure if he should continue seeing how stressed Optimus appeared. He wasn't sure why the Prime seemed so uncomfortable, but it was probably a good idea to not tempt fate.

"I uh… I don't want to damage the poor mech's reputation since he's probably not around anymore." Smokescreen fiddled with his drink, his enthusiasm dimmed. But before he could fully close himself off, Ratchet hobbled his way over, grinning and tapping Smokescreen's chassis.

"Go on, tell us about it. I can assure you, as one of Orion's oldest friends, he won't be upset." Smokescreen reset his optics. But seeing the entirety of the team, save for Optimus, looking enthused… well he couldn't exactly say no, now could he?

"Well, Orion Pax had a hero wall in his room. It was well hidden. I found it behind a wall panel that I kicked by accident." Every passing moment made Optimus look more and more willing to perish. All the while, the team leaned in closer, eager to hear to an almost rabid degree. Smokescreen was more than a little nervous, but he continued on.

"The whole thing was covered in posters and snippets of gladiators, various political figures, and a LOT of Soundwave pics. Guess Pax was into freaky mechs." Uproarious laughter met Smokescreen's words as Ratchet moved over to Optimus and slapped his arm, his optics bright and hazy from the high-grade and amusement. Finally, Optimus frowned in discontentment and Smokescreen took that as his cue to wrap up.

It seemed like the Prime was done with the whole partying business.

"To be fair, it was very beautifully put together!" More laughter met him, this time from Bumblebee and Wheeljack who had to lean on the nearest surface for support. Arcee just shook like a bomb about to go off, her grip on her cube shaky and uncertain as she fought back a smile. Bulkhead just wheezed in the corner.

Smokescreen fidgeted with his digits nervously.

"I… I saved something from his room, actually." The laughter eased for a moment as the team looked over at him curiously. Even Optimus's frown relaxed a degree as Smokescreen hastily dug through his sub-space. He didn't have to know why Optimus seemed so uncomfortable with the discussion. For all he knew, Orion might have been a good friend. It seemed like a good idea to pull out something less humorous.

It took him a moment, but soon enough, Smokescreen pulled out a small vial. It glowed blue, showing the innermost energon within it. Smokescreen almost felt bad holding the thing. Innermost energon was only meant for mecha important to an individual, and here he was, some random guardsmech who rooted around in the head archivist's room. The only reason he'd picked it up and shoved it in his subspace to begin with was because he originally intended to give it to Alpha Trion for safekeeping. Of course, that had to have been the very same night the attack on Iacon occurred.

"Is that-?" Bulkhead spoke up, but cut himself short as Optimus stepped forward, his optics wide.

"Innermost energon… a gift intended for an amica." Any laughter died in it's cradle as Optimus tenderly reached out. Smokescreen didn't hesitate to pass over the vial, watching as the mood shifted into something more solemn.

The Prime ran his digits over the small vial, his optics cycled wide as if he were a newbuild. His field pulsed in waves of old sorrow for a long moment, earning him a gentle touch from Ratchet once the Doctor composed himself enough to come closer. The rest of the team stayed silent, each of them seeming to know something important regarding Optimus and Orion Pax that Smokescreen was not privy to.

"Did you know archivist Pax? If that's the case… I'm sorry for throwing his secrets around. I just assumed that with the war and all, considering he was a civilian, he probably didn't…" Smokescreen trailed off, not wanting to meet the gazes of anyone present as the high-grade in his system eased enough to let him think clearly. What sort of aft mocked the dead? Slag, he'd messed up.

"I intended to gift this to Soundwave in the hopes that by being amica, we might be able to grow close enough to help Megatronus more efficiently." The words registered, but they did not fully compute as the Prime lifted the vial, watching it sadly.

"It was to be a bond to bind us for a lifetime, as Megatronus's right and left servos. His guides and aids in the battle for Cybertron's freedom." Ratchet held Optimus's arm, his field pulsing in age old grief that Smokescreen could hardly comprehend. The rest of the team simply observed.

"I planned to gift this token after our meeting with the High Council… but that event destroyed any brotherhood that might have lingered between us." A deep sigh escaped the Prime then, the air growing heavier with ancient regret.

"I lost more than just Megatronus that cycle. I lost so much more than him." With a weary flare of his field, Optimus held the vial a little longer before passing it back to Smokescreen. Only as he held it did everything click.

"You are Archivist Pax?" Optimus smiled ever so slightly at that.

"I was, long ago. But Orion no longer lingers here. He is but an echo of a happier time." With that, the Prime turned to leave, seemingly done with it all.

"Please, enjoy your evening. Do not allow my lamentations to ruin your celebrations." Without another word, Optimus hurried off toward his hab. The team watched in worry for a while, and Smokescreen fiddled with the vial while contemplating the implications of everything. But eventually, the team returned to their activities. Wheeljack put on a movie and poured more drinks. Bulkhead set up makeshift seating, Bumblebee sat down to watch the film with Arcee. Ratchet, for his part, passed out without meaning to five kliks into the movie.

Smokescreen took the opportunity to step away and follow after Optimus, soon finding himself knocking on the Prime's door.

When it opened, Smokescreen held out the vial, his door wings dipped in anxiety.

"I'm sorry for saying all that stuff about you! I didn't mean anything by it! And… I'm sorry I brought up bad memories." He didn't look up, he couldn't bring himself to. Without intending it, he'd hurt Optimus's reputation and brought up old losses. He'd messed up.

"Smokescreen."

Optimus's voice was gentle, almost sad as he reached out and pressed the vial back into Smokescreen's servos. His optics widened in shock, quickly forcing him to start up at the Prime in confusion.

"Do not feel guilty for what you have done. It was in good faith, and I know your spark." The Prime smiled tenderly as he clasped Smokescreen's shoulder, a fond gesture that seemed both so very right and wrong all at once.

"This is yours. It's your innermost energon. Don't you want it back?" His question rang out, unanswered for a long while. But after a klik, Optimus shook his helm.

"It is a remnant of a time long gone by. I would rather it come to new servos and represent something other than what it was originally intended to signify." With that, the Prime's servo moved down. The next thing Smokescreen knew, Optimus was holding his servos, a kind expression on his face.

Why? Why would Optimus trust him with such a thing?

"I don't understand." He murmured faintly as he heard the distant sounds of the movie playing in the background.

"You were also a student of Alpha Trion. You served him as I did, so long ago." Optimus, to Smokescreen's shock dropped to a knee to put them on equal level. He had no words. How could he? Optimus was on his knees just so they could speak at the same level.

"We are all that remains of our master, and in a sense, that ties us together." Smokescreen's field flared in disbelief, but also… relief. He'd been alone in his thoughts since his arrival. The team didn't know him, so they didn't really talk to him. The humans were nice enough, but they could never understand.

To know he had someone who cared? Who knew the loss?

"We're kind of like brothers then." Smokescreen laughed softly, nervously even. But Optimus didn't refute him. The Prime simply hummed and squeezed his servos. Somehow, that simple act conveyed more than words ever could.

"Keep this token of my youth, Smokescreen. Erase the sorrow it brings with a new promise, or perhaps remembrance for our departed teacher." Quietly, Optimus released his grip and stood back up, his expression strangely peaceful. He stood in his doorway for a while, seemingly thinking. Then, he nodded.

"If all else should fail, remember me, little brother." Then, just like that, the door slid closed.

Smokescreen stared for a while, unable to move. When he did, he meandered back to his room in silence, staring down at the small vial.

"Brothers…"

He murmured into the night, and as he did so, his view of the Prime shifted. Optimus was his leader, his idol, his Prime.

But beneath all that, hidden behind layers of rank and order, was someone he could trust. Someone who understood.

A mech he might one day dare to openly call a friend.

[milykins]

Hacked

I felt like I needed to redeem myself with Donnie since I’ve had a couple comments where people expressed feeling sad that I had a girl scream and run away from him in a previous headcanon. I thought maybe I should give him something sweet and fluffy. Added some fun quotes as well.

Special thanks to @iridescentflamingo @the-cauldron-witch @avery73 and @sophiacloud28 for all of your help with this story, editing it and helping me with ideas! I hope you enjoy reading it!

Aged up TMNT x Reader

TW: None: Donnie's system keeps getting hacked into and he gets increasingly more frustrated.

“No I’m not playing hard to get! I’m telling you, Sir, it’s not that kind of phone line!”

“It’s always the time for accuracy, Leo.”

“When you put it like that it sounds ridiculous.”

“Let me be the bad-ass for once.”

On the outside, Donatello was the brain, the tech-wizard, the tinkerer. A master of all things technological and a true intellectual able to solve a Rubik’s cube in less than 20 seconds. If it was broken, Donnie could fix it, if it was a seemingly impossible situation, Donnie could figure it out. His three brothers relied heavily on him because he was the smartest, even Leo because there were some questions even he couldn’t answer. This is how it had always been, and he didn’t mind for the most part. He did feel like he was a valuable asset to the team if not a bit overused.

On the inside however, he was the shy one, the introvert, the one who secretly feared being alone forever while slowly descending into madness from his own self-induced seclusion.

Despite Chief Vincent telling them they’d be accepted by society, the collective agreement to stay hidden remained. It had served them well, why mess with it? As they aged into adulthood, it became glaringly obvious. Loneliness, the fear of being forgotten after their father passed on. The crushing reality that he may very well die alone.

He wasn’t like his brothers. Mikey had gotten himself on the scene pretty easily and had made friends and had girlfriends. Raph too, had managed to snag someone, even no-nonsense Leo had. That just left him and he couldn’t help but think. What was the point of having all of this intelligence, creating all of these wonderful inventions, all of the things he’d built… if there was no one but his brothers to share it with?

Donnie acted like it didn’t bother him but secretly he felt it: a sort of crushing loneliness that seemed to stretch on and on. Sadly, he’d sort of given up on meeting someone. It just wasn’t in the cards for him… or was it?

It had started off innocently enough, one day he’d come to work on his computer and noticed something was… off. His desktop looked normal but none of the icons worked when he clicked on them. It didn’t take him long to realize it was a false desktop placed on top of the real one. Odd, he thought. Who had managed to even do this? He’d had the best firewalls and encryptions and security that not even the FBI could crack. Yet, he’d been hacked, someone had hacked him.

He blew out a breath of disbelief, ran a diagnostic and fixed the issue in no time. He did a careful sweep and found nothing else out of the ordinary. He chalked it up to a fluke and went on with his day thinking that was the end of it.

Then it happened again. Upon sitting down in his computer chair he noticed his taskbar was horizontal.

“What the hell..?” He fixed it and upped his security and left it at that.

A week after that all of his icons were replaced with Hello Kitty characters. He was beginning to feel annoyed. Who was doing this, and why? It seemed like they just wanted to mess with him. Frustratingly he couldn’t figure out how they kept getting in. Every time, he strengthened his security it didn’t seem to matter!

He reached his breaking point the following week when he was re-routed to a popular Pokemon meme every time he clicked on something. He was going to find this person and ask them to stop. They weren’t that hard to trace and soon he was purposefully typing a message.

Please stop, you’ve had your fun but it’s getting old

No :)

Seriously, you don’t know who you’re messing with.

Someone who can’t even stop a low-level hacker, clearly.

Who are you?

No one :)

Why are you doing this?

I’m bored, it’s fun

Bored?! How did you even find me? These servers are highly encrypted!

LOL not enough… I was just bouncing around and found them.

Are you with the Foot?

What?! No? I told you, I was bored and saw your shit, and took it as a challenge.

A challenge indeed. Stop this now, this is your final warning.

He broke off their connection then because that had better be it.

Of course, it wasn’t. One boring Saturday night, he was zoned out, totally engrossed in one of his projects. His computer screen flickers a moment. He almost doesn’t see it thinking it’s a trick of the light but it does it again. Curiously, he moved to his computer screen. When he realized what was happening, he actually laughed.

“Seriously? Again?! They have no idea who they’re messing with…”

It was clear that this was same someone who had been hacking him for weeks was trying to get into his system again.

“I’ve got you this time…” His fingers fly over his larger-than-normal keyboard as he managed to secure a one-way live video feed.

“Someone forgot to cover their webcam…” He sang, “Hello, you’ve been hacked by Donatello, I thought I already told you to cease and desist.”

You are absolutely mortified. You’d been doing this for fun, and had no ulterior motives. Truthfully you had been bored and loved a challenge. Yes, you were warned but you didn’t think he would hack your webcam! Immediately, you attempted to hide, hoping he didn’t catch a glimpse of your face.

On his end, Donnie first heard a soft, distinctly feminine gasp and a string of curses. There’s a flurry of movement as you tried to move out of the range of the camera and swiftly stick a piece of tape over it. More shuffling followed, along with the sound of you returning to your computer chair.

He can’t help but feel amused. “There’s no point in hiding, I saw you. How did you think this was going to go?” He waited patiently for you to answer.

You swore softly. The cat’s out of the bag. Swallowing your embarrassment you gingerly peeled the tape off. It didn’t take you long to notice that the video feed only went one way. That was unfair and you intended to change that.

“Sorry…” you murmered. Shit, shit, shit! I’m gonna get you for that!

He took a moment to get a good look at you. Even with the soft lighting of what he assumed to be your bedroom, he could still make out your pink cheeks, flushed flushed with embarrassment and the bridge of freckles across your nose. It was… cute.

“Sorry?” He echoed. “That’s it? You still didn’t answer my question.”

“Do I have to?” You’re trying to keep him talking while your fingers worked their magic. If he could do it… so could you.

“No, but I’d appreciate it if you’d leave me alone. You’ve had your fun, go bother someone else, please.” He replies.

“But I like bothering you.” Almost there… just a few more seconds…

Donnie has to scoff at that. “You don’t even know me.”

“Not yet… there you are!” You cheered as you manage to tap into his own webcam.

In a split-second Donnie had instantly ascertained that she’d been distracting him. To his horror, the little red light of his webcam had blinked to life. Two seconds too long which meant he’d been seen…

“FUCK!” Immediately he cut the power, sending it straight through to your house. He was panicking, he’d been compromised, he was going to have to wipe her computer, all of her hard drives. His heart was pounding and his breathing had quickened as he tried to tamp down the panic he felt. No, maybe he’ll just find her… ask her to keep his secret…? All options were equally bad. What do I do…?!

Luckily, it didn’t take long for that powerful brain of his to think of a solution, albeit a temporary one. His fingers flew over the keyboard once again, restoring power on her side before getting to work.

You were utterly confused. Two seconds ago, maybe five…? Once the webcam was active, you saw what appeared to be the green, blurred image of his face. Was he wearing a mask? You heard the panic in his voice and the ensuing curse word right before your entire room was plunged into darkness. What. The. Hell. Just. Happened?

Just as quickly, it all came back and your computer was rebooting. Okay… you attempted to type once it was all back up and running but something was wrong. Nothing was clickable, nothing worked save for the cursor on your screen. Furrowing your brow, you kept trying, but to no avail. Then, something finally.

A message popped up on your screen and you wasted no time in reading it.

Apologies, I had no choice but to freeze your system. I promise I will explain everything but I need to do it in person. Meet me here:

There was an address to a building between two cross streets and he was asking you to climb the fire escape to the roof.

At first, you scoffed in disbelief. Hell no, you weren’t going to meet some stranger on a rooftop at some weird location. Did he think you were stupid?

Then, as if your mind is being read, another message popped up under the first.

I understand if this is something you might be uncomfortable doing but my identity and the safety of my family is at stake so I must give you an ultimatum. Meet me or your computer will remain frozen.

You swore softly to yourself. This wasn’t something you could fix on your own and you knew it.

You murmured a sarcastic reply. “Well, damn, I guess I’ll just go die then,”

He was giving you no choice and you needed your computer, not only for work, but it had everything. You considered it one of your most precious items. After a minute you’d made up your mind but you still packed your taser and pepper spray just in case.

Donnie was an absolute bundle of nerves. He’d already arrived at the location and was pacing back and forth while sticking to the shadows. He was berating himself about how stupid this plan was. She wasn’t going to show up, but he’d giving her no choice. He did feel a twinge of guilt but years upon years of lectures from Leo had made him be extra cautious. He couldn’t risk his family’s safety because he was careless.

You were nervous too as you carefully climbed the steps of the fire escape. Luckily, the building was only four floors but you still would’ve liked to take an elevator. Reaching the top, you took a moment to catch your breath.

“I do… computers… not stairs… you better be here.�� Upon first glance you don’t see anyone and your annoyance grows. “Hello? Please don’t tell me I came all this way for nothing, I just want my computer back.”

Again, there was no reply.

Talking to yourself you groan. “Fuck… you are such an idiot…”

Donnie was only slightly panicking. To his amazement and relief, you showed up. In his anxious state he did manage to notice you looked kind of pretty despite the frown gracing your features. He felt frozen the moment he saw you but snapped out of it pretty quickly when he saw you about to leave.

“Wait!��

You turned. It was actually him. You recognized his voice prompting you walk closer to the source.

“Hello? If you’re here please show yourself. This is sus enough as it is and I’m already over it.” You couldn’t mask the exasperation in your tone. This was already beyond ridiculous.

Donnie had to admit he found her frustrated tone kind of endearing. In a fleeting thought he’d felt she was someone who could match wits with him.

 “Okay, okay, hold on, I’m coming out. Just… do me a favour and don’t scream, please.”

Arching an eyebrow you repeated. “Don’t scream? What kind of question is… oh.” You saw one extremely long leg and then another followed by a lengthy torso and a very green… okay, that’s definitely not human face. “Oh… so it wasn’t a mask…” It wasn’t as though he was unpleasant to look at though, just different.

He was trying his best to control his breathing, bracing himself for some kind of negative reaction. When none came, he took a breath and spoke, trying to keep his tone as even and neutral as possible.

“You see, when you hacked my webcam, you had unwittingly put me and and the safety of my family at risk… this is why I had to s-see you and why I froze your computer.” He was cursing himself inwardly for stuttering.

You were still trying to find your voice. You had SO many questions and actually still a bit annoyed. “First off… how…? You’re a turtle… I doubt anyone would even believe me… and… second… I didn’t even really see you! It was a complete blur and then you cut my power!” You exhaled as you took another breath. “NOW, I’m seeing you.”

Donnie couldn’t help but flinch a little. “I had to make sure, I had no idea how much of me you did see.” A soft sigh followed before he continued., pinching his skin just below where the bridge of his glasses was resting. “And if you had listened when I told you to stop, we wouldn’t be in this situation, now would we?”

He’s got you there and unconsciously you bite your lower lip. The stubborn part of you, however, wasn’t ready to admit defeat yet. “Well, how was I supposed to know that you were a… seven foot…”

“I’m six feet, eight inches.” He interrupted with his matter-of-fact correction.

Another exasperated exhale from you. “Sorry, six foot, eight inch… turtle man!” emphasizing your point, you gestured wildly at the full length of him with your arms. “Who’s apparently so good at hacking that my entire network is completely frozen and I had to drag my ass across town to beg you to unfreeze it!”

He was a little amused by this, he had to admit as his mouth quirked a smile. “Like, I said, I had to be sure, and might I remind you once again… you were the one messing with me.”

“Yeah! Because you were fun to mess with! It was giving me a chance to practice, and it was just innocent fun, it’s not like I could do what you did! And… AND you wanna talk about an invasion of privacy? You hacked my webcam first!”

Donnie blinked, she was really getting all worked up now, and he was trying not to stoop to her level. He was failing. “I only did it because I didn’t think you’d stop! I gave you fair warning.”

“I would’ve stopped!” He doesn’t believe you at all and you hate that because he’s right, messing with him had been too much fun.

“Really?” he deadpanned.

“Yes,” you stubbornly replied.

There’s no stopping his eyeroll at that. “Forgive me if I don’t believe you.”

She crossed her arms with another soft huff. “Fine, don’t believe me.” A shrug followed. “So, now what?”

The tall turtle paused. Usually, he had all the answers but now that he’d frozen her computer and dragged her all the way out here, he felt at a loss of what to say. “I… I just wanted to make sure you’d keep my secret and not tell anyone.”

“Okay… I won’t.” A simple answer, and a truthful one. You watched as he looked at you a long moment. No doubt wondering if he could trust you or not.

Donnie was actually subtly checking for very slight facial cues to determine whether you were lying to him or not. He could tell that your heart rate appeared to be steady. Your gaze never wavered from his, no dilation of her pupils and no mouth tics either. He believed you.

“Okay.” He finally said. “Thank you. I’ll unfreeze everything once I get home.” He turned to leave. “Please get home safely.”

Wait… that was it? Just like that, he was leaving!? “Wait!” You rushed forward to grab his arm. “Wait… that’s it?”

He looked… confused? He had immediately zeroed in on your hand clutching his bicep and then back to your face. “Yes…? You agreed to not tell anyone so… you probably should… let me go? The less you see of me, the better? I thought you were… angry anyway.”

Reluctantly, you released his arm, speaking softly. “I’m not… that mad, I never was really, I just… didn’t want this to be… it. I feel like I could learn a lot from you.”

You watched as her hesitated, seemingly working through his own inner conflicts at this presented opportunity.

“You could…” He turned back around, facing you once again. “Although, you’re already pretty good, I was actually impressed that you’d made it as far as you did.”

You couldn’t help but puff up a little with pride. “Thanks, you’re not so bad yourself. Maybe I could teach you a thing or two.”

He actually laughed. Like a soft little chuckle with a wheeze, his lips blossoming into a smile. “Perhaps you could.”

You smiled back, that laugh of his was adorable. “I’ll let you go but, Donnie… don’t be a stranger, okay?” You already had known his name from getting into his system so many times.

He spoke your name too, softly. “Okay, I won’t.” He looked a little shy then. “Please, allow me to escort you home. It’s late.”

“How very chivalric of you.” Smiling at him with a nod. “I accept.”

Donnie looked pleased with this turn of events and then a little nervous. “I could… carry you, if you want, it’s faster going by rooftops.”

That was an unexpected offer. and now you hesitated before answering. “Oohkay… what are you, some kinda parkour master?”

He snorted softly with a little smirk. “Something like that, ready?”

When you nod, you’re scooped up into his arms at speed that makes you exhale quickly. Being in his arms and feeling the power they held was… nice.

“Hold on tight.” Is all he says and then he starts running.

Automatically you wrapped your arms around his neck watching as the edge of the building came closer and closer… and then, you were flying. Air shooting past your face at a speed that made your eyes water. Your stomach dropped and you clung tighter as you sailed through the air, landing with a thump on the other building.

“You, okay?” He wasn’t even out of breath, like this was easy for him.

“Yes…! Do you know where you’re going?” You ask a little breathlessly.

“Yep. Hold on, I’ll be there in ten.” He took off again, leaping across to the next and the next.

You had to admit it was probably the most exhilarating thing you’d ever experienced and you were actually a bit regretful when he stopped on the roof of your apartment building. Carefully, he brought you to your feet and pushed those large glasses of his up a bit.

“Here we are.” He was more relaxed now, you noticed and felt glad for it.

“Thanks, I appreciate you bringing me back.”

He offered a shy smile then. “You’re welcome. I dragged you out there, the least I could do is make sure you get home safely.”

“That is very much appreciated.” Feeling a bit shy yourself, you paused before heading in. “I’ll see you around.”

“For sure.” Donnie had found he didn’t want to leave yet either, he wanted to make sure you entered the apartment safely.

Heading in, you waved to him before closing the door behind you and took a deep breath. Wow… that really happened. That was incredible! You could barely contain your excitement as you went back to your apartment.

Once Donnie arrived home, true to his word he freed up her system and felt proud of himself for handling things the way that he did. He blew out a breath, leaning back in his chair a moment while lacing his fingers behind his head.

*bing*

He glanced at his screen to see his computer icons dancing and an unseen song playing in the background.

Ninja, ninja, rap, ninja, ninja, rap, go go go go. Go ninja go ninja go! Go ninja go ninja go! Go go go go!

Donnie snorted softly to himself and quickly typed a response.

Back in your apartment, your computer screen suddenly became flooded with memes. Mostly turtle ones of course and try as you might there was no containing your giggles and snorts as you watched them take over your screen. You liked him; there was something very endearing about his quiet shyness mixed with his sharp wit.

Typing back, you take over his screen once again. You took a breath and pressed enter. This was a big chance you were taking but you couldn’t help but feel a connection with the tall, lanky turtle man.

Go on a date with me

Check box yes or no

No rush

Donnie froze, his fingers twitching slightly as they hovered above his keyboard. She wants to go out on a date? With him? He had a mild panic attack for a moment and read and re-read the message at least ten times.

His cursor hovered over the ‘yes’ box. Come on Donnie, throw caution into the wind for once. When are you going to get another chance like this?

Making his decision finally, he clicked his mouse button.

Yes

You couldn’t hold your excitement as you blew out a breath of relief.

He said yes.

The End

@danceingfae @thelaundrybitch @iridescentflamingo @redsrooftopprincess @ninnosaurus

@the-cauldron-witch @thepinkpanther83 @avery73 @adebauchedsloth @sophiacloud28

@definitely-canon @scholastic-dragon @truffle-reblogs @fyreball66 @yorshie

[creamflix]

choso x reader; no implied reader gender. angst, limited superficial comfort. established relationship. implied (past) choso x yuki. choso is half-human who does not understand social cues, but could be read as gaslighting/manipulation? lol. based on a true incident :pensive: — masterlist here ☆

being with choso was like getting to see the world through brand-new eyes. the way he marveled at even the simplest things — a cup of coffee, a sunset, a song — lit up your life in ways you never expected. he’d sit there, wide-eyed, eager to learn and feel, and you were there for it all, guiding him through the maze of human experience. it felt special, something unique to you both, a bond deepened by moments only you could share.

so when that song came on, the one that was supposed to be yours, it was like a rush of warmth, like another page added to the story you were writing together. the melody swept you up, reminding you of quiet nights, gentle laughter, and whispered promises that you thought belonged only to you and him.

but then, out of nowhere, he smiled, that soft, almost bashful look he always gave you when he was remembering something dear.

“you know, yuki played this for me the first time,” he said, voice light, as if he’d just shared a fond memory.

the words crashed over you, your chest tightening as if the air had been sucked from the room. yuki played this?

the image of her, casual, confident, teaching him the meaning behind this song flashed unbidden in your mind, and suddenly, the song you thought was yours didn’t feel like it anymore.

you tried to keep the smile on your face, the one he loved, the one he looked for whenever he felt unsure. but the hurt simmered under your skin, an ache spreading through you that he couldn’t possibly understand. you swallowed hard, feeling your pulse in your throat.

“yuki introduced you to it?”

choso nodded, oblivious to the turmoil brewing within you, still wearing that innocent smile. “yeah… she thought it suited me.” he chuckled softly, completely unaware of the weight behind your question. “she said it reminded her of family. guess that’s why i thought of you when i heard it again.”

family.

the word rang hollow as it slipped from his mouth, the meaning of it different than it should’ve been. you wanted to feel special to him, to have your own corner of his heart.

but now it felt like you were picking up pieces of memories he’d already formed with someone else.

“oh,” you managed, voice low, trying to sound casual even as the words scraped out. “i thought it… i thought it was our song.”

he tilted his head, brows knitting in that familiar look of confusion. “it is, isn’t it?” he asked, his gaze warm and unassuming. “i mean, it makes me think of you now.”

you forced a smile, but something about his innocence cut even deeper. he didn’t realize what it meant, didn’t understand that he was treading over something you’d thought belonged to just the two of you. to him, it was just a song, another piece of his experience, while to you, it was part of your connection, a bridge between your worlds.

“yeah,” you whispered, more to yourself than to him, “but it’s not… it’s not the same.”

choso blinked, concern flickering in his eyes as he noticed the strain in your voice. “what’s wrong?” he asked, leaning closer, his expression open, worried. “did i… did i say something bad?”

you wanted to say yes, to tell him that this hurt, that it felt like sharing something you could never get back.

but then you saw his face, that wide-eyed sincerity that had always drawn you to him, and you couldn’t bring yourself to lay it all out.

he wouldn’t understand.

how could he? he was trying so hard, learning to open himself up, and here you were, tangled in feelings he couldn’t yet grasp.

“no, it’s…” you forced a laugh, hating the way it sounded hollow, even to your own ears. “it’s fine, choso. i just… i thought it was different.”

he reached for your hand, his grip gentle as his thumb traced comforting circles along your skin. “i only think of you when i hear it now,” he said, earnestly. “doesn’t that make it ours?”

your throat tightened, a bitterness you couldn’t name rising in your chest. he didn’t get it, and maybe he never would.

this wasn’t about a song, not really — it was about feeling like part of him in a way that no one else could touch. but he didn’t understand why it mattered so much, didn’t understand what it was like to feel like an afterthought in someone else’s memories.

you swallowed, brushing your thumb over his hand in return, forcing yourself to smile, to meet his gaze even though it felt like you were cracking.

“yeah,” you lied, trying to smooth out the hurt with words you didn’t quite believe, “i guess that makes it ours.”

but as the song continued, filling the silence between you, it didn’t feel like it was yours at all. instead, it felt like something you’d borrowed, a memory that didn’t truly belong to you.

and as you sat there, feeling the weight of everything left unsaid, you realized this wound wasn’t one he could ever heal.

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[littleskycharm]

Oh my goodness, and oh my goodness.

Oh my goodness #1 because getting tagged made me so glad, thank you Basil! ✨🐱✨

Oh my goodness #2 because it's been ages since I'd watched movies anywhere near regularly, which means I am far from well-equipped to participate.

I've discussed the matter with my parents, and

I am even far less well-equipped to continue the chain (don't know many people here), though I would love to mention someone else (who I know would enjoy this) specially because it did make my day to be invited to play, so I'll do the only thing I can think of right now and just make an open invitation to anyone who would like to share what they had watched and adored. Sorry😖💦 and thanks again! ❤️

Pick one of my five favorite movies!

I was tagged by @friendrat, but the original chain was getting kinda long, so we're doing a fresh post. Not including The Lord of the Rings even though it's my actual favorite because that's going to skew the results waaaaaaay too much.

Tagging @as-dreamers-do, @cat-dragoness, and @o-lei-o-lai-o-lord (and anyone who wants to do this but hasn't been tagged).

[ghsface]

Not sure if you are taking request but can we get an angst with Matt where like reader and him are dating for years but recently comments have been getting to her or people have been following her home and eventually she decideds to break up with Matt but Matt takes things to in his hands where he’s tells ppl to stop and they get back together?(Lol sorry if it didn’t make sense but thank you)

𝜗𝜚 new messege .ᐟ.ᐟ

Hey gorgeous, I really liked this idea, I hope you like it too.

You are the only thing I want - Matt Sturniolo

Sumary: You and Matt had a secret relationship and when you decide to make it public everything goes wrong...

Warnings: angst hate messages towards reader, this is just angst with a happy ending

A/n: Leave me ideas to write in my inbox because I'm running out of ideas. I'm sorry if something is misspelled or not understood. My first language is not English. By the way, what do you think of my new theme, in my opinion, it's very cute like the baby pink and light brown. 🩷🧸

⛧°。 ⋆༺ ✮ ༻⋆。 °⛧

It had been exactly fourteen months since the first time you and Matt kissed. You hadn't imagined then how important he would become in your life, nor that being with him would be so complicated. Because, although you adored each other and the bond between you grew every day, that relationship had to be kept secret. It was a mutual decision, made for practical reasons. At first, the thrill of secrecy made everything more exciting. But now, you both felt exhausted.

You had spent too many nights talking secretly in the car, dates arranged down to the last detail so as not to be seen, or moments of solitude where, instead of shouting to the world how much you loved each other, you had to hide it like a forbidden secret. The situation was starting to weigh on you.

That night, you were on the couch at Matt's house. He was holding you, and your head was resting on his shoulder while you felt his fingers playing with the strands of your hair.

"Aren't you tired of this?" he asked quietly, breaking the silence.

You raised your head and looked at him, searching his eyes for what he really wanted to say.

"What are you talking about?"

"About having to hide… about not being able to tell anyone how amazing you are." Matt smiled, but his eyes reflected a sadness that you shared.

"Of course I'm tired. Sometimes I wish we could be a normal couple".

"Then let's do it", he suggested, giving your hand a squeeze. "Let's make it public. I don't care what others say. I want to be with you, and I want everyone to know it."

The idea made you feel butterflies in your stomach. The love you had for Matt was bigger than any fear, and the fact that he was willing to share your relationship with his fans made you feel special. You decided to announce it on social media.

When Matt uploaded the first photo of the two of you together, you felt a mix of excitement and nervousness. The image showed an intimate moment, a selfie of the two smiling on the beach, with the sunset in the background. The caption was simple but powerful: “Over a year together, and we’re just getting started.”

For the first few hours, the response was overwhelmingly positive. There were comments from fans congratulating and supporting them: “They look beautiful together,” “Finally someone makes Matt happy as he deserves,” “What a great couple they make!”

But over time, other types of messages began to appear. “Her? Is he really with her?”, “She’s not enough for him,” “She’s only with him for fame, I’m sure she’ll use him to become famous,” “Poor Matt, he deserves someone better.”

At first, you tried not to take them seriously. But every time you checked your phone, more of those comments appeared. There were people criticizing your appearance: “She’s too basic for someone like him,” “She’s not even pretty, how dare she date Matt?”, “Matt deserves someone more attractive.”

The words cut you deeply. You knew you shouldn’t let those comments affect you, but you couldn’t stop the doubts from starting to poison your mind. Every time you looked in the mirror, you started to see those flaws that others mentioned. Insecurity began to invade you in a way you hadn’t experienced before.

Matt tried to comfort you whenever he noticed you looking down. Sometimes, during the night, he would catch you reading the comments on your phone, and he would simply take the phone away from you and hold you, whispering that he loved you and that was all that mattered.

“You don’t need to listen to those people, babe,” he said, looking at you with a sincere expression. “They don’t know anything about you, they don’t know how amazing you are.”

The comments didn’t stop, though. Every day they became crueler and crueler. Rumors began to circulate suggesting that you were only with Matt to gain followers, or that you were using his fame to make yourself known. People commented on every aspect of your life, from how you dressed to how you looked without makeup. There were those who said things like, “It’s obvious that she dresses like that to get attention, can’t she dress up better?” or “She should thank Matt for giving her a chance, she’s just an ordinary girl.”

At some point, comments were no longer the only thing. People started following you home, taking photos of you without your permission, and even trying to get close to you to ask you invasive questions. You felt watched and judged at every turn, and little by little, you started to believe that you weren't enough, that maybe all those people were right.

The pressure began to be unbearable. Your self-esteem plummeted, and every time you looked in the mirror, you saw someone who, according to the world, wasn’t enough. Matt tried to cheer you up, to remind you how much he loved you, but you couldn’t stand it anymore.

One night, after one of your most difficult conversations, you asked him to meet you. Matt came over to your house, and as soon as you saw him, he knew something was wrong. He stared at you in silence as you searched for the words to say to him.

“Matt… I can’t do this anymore,” you whispered, your voice shaking.

“What are you saying?” he asked, frowning, clearly worried.

“I can’t be in this relationship anymore. The pressure, the comments… they’re tearing me apart. I can’t take it anymore.

Matt looked at you, unable to process what you were saying. He was trying to understand, but the pain in your eyes made it clear to him that you were really hurt.

“But… I love you, and I don’t care what other people think. They don’t understand what we have.”

“I know, Matt. I know you love me, but I can’t go on like this. I’m losing myself in all of this.” It's getting harder and harder to get up and pretend everything is okay.

You took a deep breath, trying to hold back your tears. “Matt… I can’t keep going like this. I can’t handle the pressure, the comments, the people following me everywhere. I feel like I’m losing myself, and I don’t want to drag you into this. I think… I think it’s best that we break up.”

The goodbye was hard and heartbreaking for both of us. In the days that followed, Matt stayed away from social media, not mentioning anything about what had happened. He isolated himself, trying to understand how the love of his life had to walk away because of the cruelty of others.

Weeks went by as you tried to get over the situation, even though you felt empty. However, one afternoon, while you were checking your social media, you noticed a post from Matt that surprised you.

It was a photo of you and him that Nick had taken, and the message was clear and direct: “I don't give a shit what others say about my girlfriend. I'm with her because I love her, and that's never going to change.”

Matt's public statement was not only a message to his fans, but a promise that he was willing to stand up for what they had. Feeling a torrent of emotions, you decided to call him. When he answered, his voice trembled with emotion.

"I can't go on without you" he said quietly, while you tried to hold back your tears.

"Me neither, Matt… I love you."

That night, they met again, and between tears and hugs, they knew that this time there would be nothing and no one that could separate.

⛧°。 ⋆༺ ✮ ༻⋆。 °⛧

your reblogs and replies are always appreciated dearly, and feel free to leave a request ✮

⤷ Tags... @matthewsroses @sophand4n4 @strnilolover @lolastrniolo

[jokeroutsubs]

[📝ENG TRANSLATION] Bojan Cvjetićanin: We miss our family members the most (Suzy)

Original article written by Tomaž Mihelič for Slovenske novice on 08.11.2024, PHOTO: Vita Orehek, Mediaspeed. English translation by a member of JokerOutSubs, review by @kurooscoffee, proofread by IG Gboleyn123

Already living the dream of every rocker in your early twenties is unimaginable to most. But not for Joker Out.

Full article under the cut 👇

Bojan is very attached to his mum. (ph: Mediaspeed)

08.11.2024 at 06:00

Upon release of their newest album, we spoke with the singer and songwriter, who told us how radically their lives have changed in the past year, revealed the pitfalls of fame and told us why there aren't many reasons to be optimistic. We also found out who the boys miss the most when they are away from home for months at a time.

“In the last year and a half, we have already completed five tours in Slovenia and Europe. We are slowly heading towards the next one. I have to admit, it’s an incredible feeling when you make your childhood dreams come true,” a good humoured Bojan starts the conversation. “It seems like science fiction to us and we still haven’t quite managed to get used to these previously unknown dimensions. It takes our breath away, when we arrive somewhere new, in a different country, and the crowds collectively sing in Slovene for an hour and a half,” he tries to describe his impressions.

The most precious moments are those with family. Apart from sister Tijana and mother, paediatrician Dr. Snežana Cvjetićanin, the only one missing in the photo is the father, senior doctor Branko Cvjetićanin. (ph: Mediaspeed)

“We are marching quickly towards an inevitable doom. Why false optimism, when we see innocent children being slaughtered while those responsible turn a blind eye?"

As brothers

He says it's hard to get used to them not being home. It is a special strange feeling, not only for them, but also for the fans who are preparing for their performance in good faith and are dutifully learning this foreign language they’ve never heard before. “Maintaining close contact with our fans requires an enormous amount of energy, but they give it back to us in abundance, so there is pure love flowing between us. We've had our share of challenges, especially among ourselves, because we spend a lot of time together with the boys. It is no longer a friendly or business relationship, but a kind of partnership. Maybe it's more appropriate if I say that we are like brothers," outlines the close ties between the five musicians.

“The moods flow from very beautiful to friction, frustrations, creative holes and successes. There are ups and downs and you have to be able to navigate between them. In principle, we have not allowed our ego to take the lead. If you process and filter your concerns on the fly, they are easier to control. At the same time, we have producer Žare Pak with us as a kind of psychotherapist. An immense help to us are also genuine relationships with colleagues from the industry, as we learn and resolve many things through conversations with them. Sometimes you even inadvertently get some useful advice,” he smiles.

“It's really bizarre that we sell out halls like that and the best 'tourbus' you can afford is waiting for us in the car park. We hired it with our own money and our own achievements.”

When you don’t feel at home at home

It's a great achievement to be able to make a living from music these days. Let alone that you manage to do it while you're still studying. Joker Out are the exception, not the rule. But every triumph carries consequences, especially in enormous emotional ranges. From the euphoria, when thousands of people are screaming in front of you, to the emptiness that occurs backstage or in a hotel room. “What confused me the most was the feeling that at home, I no longer felt homely anymore because we had been abroad for so long. I was really lost, that's when my parents and sister came to my aid. We are a very close family, we talk openly about everything and these relationships save lives. Mother's food and advice, father's wisdom, Tijana's sincere hugs have healing power,” he says gratefully.

The author of all of the lyrics and the first voice of the band is happy to have a genuine brotherly relationship with the boys. (ph: Vita Orehek)

Having never travelled much before, he wasn't used to spending weeks away from the safety of home. “The circumstances of literally living out of a suitcase for a year and a half turned everything upside down. When I returned to Slovenia, it seemed strange to me that I had to get used to the fact that we wouldn't be going on the road for a while. I had to give it time. A few laps around Ljubljana and the proximity of best friends was enough for everything to fall back into place.”

Following the paths of world legends

He can be relieved that he is not subject to the various temptations that characterise extreme emotional fluctuations. On the one hand, fame and public expectations, on the other, inner struggles and the desire for privacy. “It seems to me that it is all a result of upbringing. My parents instilled in me the right amount of self-confidence, a healthy self-image and trust in myself and those closest to me. This is the foundation for solving any problem. Once I got rid of the panic attacks on stage, I found contact with my old self. Switching between private and crazy stage dynamics has fortunately never been a problem for me,” he says honestly. For the lay public, it is good to point out that Joker Out performs at iconic venues in European capitals.

They drive around in the grand buses we see in the movies, but for them it's all reality. “And none of this has changed us to the point of rising above the others. We still keep our essence: authenticity is the most valuable. A few times we've had to literally pinch ourselves when we've arrived at some legendary club where bands like the Rolling Stones, Led Zeppelin and the like once played, and now we're standing on that stage. Before the concert, we got our hands on a book with the signatures of the performers and could hardly believe that our name would now be among them. It's really bizarre that we sell out a venue like this and the best 'tourbus' you can afford is waiting for us in the car park. We rented it with our own money and our own achievements,” marvels Cvjetićanin. As a result of the aforementioned panic attacks, he has not been able to truly appreciate all that he has received, and during a retrospective of the last period, he points out: “Even as children, we did not dare to imagine that one day we would experience all this.”

Nothing fell from the sky

And how do they keep from being blinded by all the glamour? “In reality, there is no luxury at all. We don't have luxury cars and villas waiting for us at home. We are not treated to economic excess. We still go home to the same people. I am sure that none of us is predisposed to become a total jerk if he had a euro more in his bank account. We are by nature very diligent and hard-working. We do get lucky sometimes and things work out in our favour, but that would not be the case if we were bored and waiting for something to fall out of the sky. We have always strived for success and we are proud of the results we have achieved so far. Now we have to find a common sense limit as to when we are satisfied. When we can say to ourselves that we are happy with what we have and not endlessly strive for more. What makes me happy is creating, making music, hanging out with quality people, good food, getting a good night’s sleep, which I manage to catch despite my busy schedule,” he winks mischievously, before we focus on his love. Song writing. Some authors are constantly under pressure to produce a hit.

Joker Out uses music to draw attention to current issues in our society. (ph: Primož Lukežič)

Is he one of them? “No way! I don't make music to please other people, it has to vibrate for me first. There is no such thing as a good song. It's subjective to taste. You can talk about pressure when you have to finish an album. There are time constraints and a vision of how we want to present ourselves as a band. Here, we are faced with chasing compromises and healthy, middle ground to make sure everyone is happy with the product. Time is the biggest enemy of all creatives. Especially those who have a project in mind. There's always too little of it,” he says.

Why false optimism?!

Joker Out's songs carry important messages. They will not give up this principle. Although, for the first time ever, we will see a little pessimism on the new album. “Inspiration comes from all sides and the theme is self-confessional. It's not hard to find inspiration to write nowadays. We live in terribly 'messed up', hypocritical times, where something is happening on every front. I am a sentient being and the horrors in the world touch me quite a bit. We also deal with such topics. There are so many injustices happening globally every day that deserve a voice, but people generally only stand up for those that they feel are important enough. When human rights are clearly violated, we as a band feel compelled to express our opinion. But we don't always do so, because it is impossible, because for every war there are hundreds of others that we as a society simply overlook. We are silent,” he digs at the wound of modern civilisation.

“It takes our breath away when we arrive somewhere new, in another country, and the crowds collectively sing in Slovenian for an hour and a half.”

And what shocks, angers, saddens him the most? “That there are no rules and you can do whatever you want if you have enough power or capital. That everything is allowed and applauded, no matter how bloody it is. The legal world, the rule of law, organisations of any kind are plain bullshit, because the chosen elites do not have to abide by any laws”, he is blunt and horrified that new generations have to bear the consequences of greed. “We have come so far as a community that it affects creativity. With one song, for the first time, I went into complete pessimism, with no turn to positivity. It's a story in which I express fear and distrust that things could be better. We are marching fast towards the inevitable doom. Why the false optimism when we are witnessing live the slaughter of innocent children while those responsible turn a blind eye?” he criticises, before falling silent for a few moments.

Finally, however, he turns to the light, to the forthcoming showcase concert tour.

“We have a lot of rehearsals ahead of us to make sure the songs are familiar under our fingers. We won't have any special fitness training, although some amount of recreation can’t hurt. We don't have any altitude training though, as if we were going to the World Championships,” he laughs and promises to bring back some souvenirs from the trip. “Preferably our Souvenir Pop,” he hints at the title of their album, which will be available from the 15th of November.

“We're still going back home to the same people, and I'm sure none of us is predisposed to become a total jerk if he had a euro more in his bank account.”