#wrestling catalogue

[the-kipsabian]

update the hair really is wine red......

[butchpillowprince]

Butch4Butch Porn Catalogue

Written erotica

The Holy Grail, required reading: George's Boi by greyhyms on AO3 - butch/butch, Daddy kink, stone butch

Set in Stone: butch on butch erotica (2001) at openlibrary.org

The entire Jess/Lupe A League of Their Own tag on AO3

Sinclair Sexsmith - butch4butch and butch4femme: website

Orlando Silver - butch4butch and T4T: Substack

Dev Ill/thedevilisadyke: AO3

kind to be cruel - butch/butch - dignification kink, Daddy kink

bad guy - butch/butch - sadism and masochism, blood play, bondage

in the alley - butch/butch/butch - orgasm control, pain kink, public sex/in an alley, Daddy kink, Sir kink, threesome

fangs4fur - butch/butch - vampire and werewolf, breeding kink, pain kink, blood play, sadism and masochism

Bite, Burn, & Sting - butch/butch, needle play, pain kink, piercings, genital piercing, Daddy kink, impact play, masturbation

Solder & Flux - butch/butch, power bottom/service top, hatefucking, enemies to lovers, pain play, Daddy kink, knife play, blood play, gagging

Smoke and Flame- butch/butch, smoke play, marijuana, Daddy kink, choking

Forgive Me, Father - butch/butch, blasphemy kink, masturbating in a confession booth, wax play, spanking

dykediaries: Literotica

Bois' Night - butch/butch, a friend helps a friend get over a breakup

Meet Me After Work? - butch/butch, a butch gets picked up by a customer at their job

One Night Stand - butch/butch, two butches get set up on a blind date

Reconnecting - butch/butch, two old transmasc friends meet up post-transition

Welcome Surprise - butch/butch/femme, threesome, a butch/femme couple incorporate another butch

basicbutch: Literotica

Arm Wrestle - butch/butch - The reigning arm wrestling champ at the dive bar meets her match.

One Bad Night - butch/butch - A terrible night out results in unexpected romance.

(my stuff) Leo Wilder/ butchpillowprince:  AO3, website, instagram, linktr.ee

Yes, Sir anthology (paperback, ebook)

Coming Home novella (paperback, ebook)

Charlie & her friends series

Poker Game - butch/butch/butch/butch/butch/butch group sex - Charlie and her friends play poker and find a new way to place their bets.

Halloween Party - butch/butch/butch/butch/butch/butch group sex - Charlie and the gang throw a Halloween party and play truth or dare.

Camping Trip - butch/butch/butch/butch/butch/butch group sex and three butch/butch pairs - Charlie and her friends go on a camping trip together after the Halloween party.

New Year's - butch/butch/butch/butch/butch/butch group sex - Charlie and her friends go to a kink party for New Year's Eve.

One-shot originals

Against the Ropes - butch/butch - Tensions run high in the boxing ring between rivals.

Amateurs - butch/butch/butch/butch - Some butch friends film amateur porn in a parking lot, and get caught.

Bittersweet Rivals - butch/butch - Two basketball rivals meet at the bar and work out their rivalry on the dancefloor.

BOY TOY - butch/butch - A couple explores a "BOY TOY" collar fantasy together, and acts it out in the bedroom.

Butch Bros - butch/butch - Two butch buds hang out and have a good time on the couch.

Butch Cocksuckers - butch/butch/butch - A set of roommates work on their communication together.

Chastity - butch/butch - A closeted, repressed baby butch gets corrupted by a filthy, greedy butch top.

Gym Rat - butch/butch - A gym bro follows a silver fox to the showers.

Library Stacks - butch/butch/butch - Two students find a creative way to study in the library, and they get caught.

Oil Change - butch/butch - Jack's friend needs some help in the garage.

Road Trip - butch/butch - A country boy and a city boy take a road trip together, and the city boy misbehaves.

Suit and Tie - butch/butch - Two butches get dressed up for the opera and don't make it out the door.

Tough Guy - butch/butch - A heartbroken butch goes to the bar, flagging black on the right.

Use Me - butch/butch - A drink on the couch becomes more when the boy learns how to ask for what he wants.

Audio erotica

Dev Ill/thedevilisadyke: butch4butch audio library

Closer Than Ever and Game Time on Dipsea (paid or 7 day free trial) - masc lesbian friends have a Dyke Night that starts with a friendly massage / They go to a bar and realize their prospects aren't as hot as each other

Masc for Masc on TryQuinn (paid or 7 day free trial) https://www.tryquinn.com/audio/masc-for-masc

The entire butch4butch tag on Gone Wild Audio Sapphic (/r/gwasapphic)

Video porn

Fagdyke Cruising

Shutter

Blue Room

Butch4Butch Daddy boy scene

Butch vs butch lesbians

Butch & Butch

Sid Blankovich and Jiz Lee

Adina and Saffron

Daddi Dice and Red Jackhammer

Dallas and Syd Blakovich

Two lesbian butches having anal sex

Butch on fire

Real girlfriends

The rest of the butch4butch tag on PINKLABEL.tv

Am I missing something? Reblog and link to it!

[demonic0angel]

Batman investigates an underground meta fighting ring, only to discover the Dr.s Fenton both fighting as a masked wrestling duo. (Jazz suggested they do "normal, non ghost couple activities", and this was the result.) Dan and Danny are in the crowd cheering them on.

Signal frowned softly at Batman, as they both snuck into the hidden area.

“Are you going to arrest them? This group is actually one of the more fun ones without anyone being trafficked or captured.”

Batman sighed. Signal was an amazing vigilante, but it couldn’t be denied that he was soft when interacting with other metas.

Still, since Signal was his precious ward, Batman decided to comply and nodded once.

They walked inside of the arena, which was absolute chaos. The people fighting in the middle were a couple, one big and one small, against three other people in a strange martial arts-wrestling style fight.

It was interesting, but Batman was busy cataloguing everyone there, who were cheering and screaming and watching the fight.

However, he was quickly surprised.

Batman was shocked the moment he was spotted. He had been hiding in the darkness with Signal’s powers and wasn’t supposed to be seen, but a random boy from the crowd suddenly stood up and pointed at him, screaming, “Run!! It’s the police!!”

Everyone immediately scrambled for the exits in a panicked stampede.

The couple that were in the middle of the arena paused, looked at each other, and then left to run up the stairs and grab the boy that had been able to find him. They were followed by a tall, red haired woman who grabbed a smaller girl, and another man who was frowning as the family of 6 then left.

Batman was left with no answers and now, an empty meta fighting ring.

Signal whistled, impressed. “Damn. That was fast. I bet that boy was a meta too, huh?”

Batman pinched his nose and sighed.

He put his hand to his ear and called out to the comms, “Oracle, call everyone else. All hands on deck for this. We have an entire crowd of metas roaming around Gotham right now. Just find them and keep track of them, no need to take them down.”

Then Batman paused, with Signal’s eyes on him. He then continued, “And find me a family of six. Two brunette or red haired women, the rest are all dark haired, one girl, two men and a boy. Keep an eye out for those six.”

[pretentious-blonde]

first chapter

pairing: steve harrington x reader

summary: steve stops by the bookshop for his students and leaves an impression—one that lingers when the reader sees just how much he cares about them

warnings: literally none, steve is a softie!!

a/n: here we go again! short and sweet intro chapter before we get to the good stuff. also i was grinning at my screen writing steve interacting with the kids <3

series masterlist

The morning bird song filtered through the lace curtains draped across the front windows of your grandmother’s old bookshop—now your bookshop.

The wooden floors, worn by decades of footsteps, creaked quietly beneath your shoes. You had just flipped the sign to declare that, yes, you were open for business, though not a single soul was out on the pavement yet. The serenity of a small town in the early hours felt soothing, and you allowed yourself to breathe in the stillness of the morning.

Upstairs in the modest flat you now called home, the kettle had whistled only moments before, providing you with a simple comfort—a warm cup of coffee. Steam rose from the mug like a contented sigh, warming your fingers and your chest. 

As you descended the short flight of stairs to the shop, you couldn’t help but marvel at how seamlessly your new life in Hawkins had begun to take shape. Yes, there were boxes you still hadn’t fully unpacked and occasional bursts of Midwest weather that threatened your peace, but on mornings like this, you felt sure you had made the right choice.

This shop, bequeathed to you in your grandmother’s will, carried a deep history and charm. You had wrestled with the idea of selling it—a practical move, some might say—but the thought of parting with such a beloved space felt entirely wrong. So here you were, two months into a life of dusting ancient shelves, cataloguing novels by authors known and unknown, and greeting the locals who had begun to trickle in as regulars. 

It wasn’t always smooth sailing. The old filing system your grandmother had used was more a labyrinth than a library, with handwritten ledgers that offered few clues. But slowly, day by day, you’d learned to navigate her quirks, an exercise that felt like stepping into her shoes and forging a path of your own.

You settled in behind the counter, a cosy nook framed by shelves of bestsellers and classics alike. The lighting was soft, mostly amber-hued floor lamps with tasseled shades that cast an inviting glow. Mismatched cushions had found their way onto plush armchairs and vintage sofas arranged in corners throughout the space. It felt less like a store and more like a living room that just happened to sell books. 

To you, that was precisely the point—somewhere quiet, welcoming, and full of potential.

Taking a careful sip from your coffee, you let yourself sink into a well-worn seat behind the register. There was a quaint luxury in these early moments, before the day’s customers arrived, and you cherished the silence. A part of you wondered if you should tackle the stack of new releases that needed shelving, but the comfort of your chair—and the lingering caffeine aroma—kept you rooted in place. 

You reached under the counter and pulled out a paperback you’d been meaning to read. The cover teased an enchanting story, and you were eager to get lost in it.

It never occurred to you that someone might stroll in so soon after opening. Eight o’clock in Hawkins seemed far too early for anything but coffee. Still, the unexpected had become more common these days, and the jingle of the bell over the door startled you from your first page. It rang out, clear and bright in the morning quiet, signaling the arrival of your first customer of the day.

He didn’t exactly look like the typical morning browser, appearing slightly out of breath from the chill outside. His cheeks were tinged pink, the tip of his nose a little red, and his hair—once styled impeccably—looked tousled by the wind. A muted green jumper peeked out from beneath a casual jacket, and he wore well-fitted jeans that bore faint traces of scuff at the knees. He hovered for a moment near the threshold, glancing around as though making sure he was in the right place.

The glow of your shop seemed to settle around him, beckoning him inside. You could see the tension in his shoulders lessen when he realised he wasn’t intruding on some hidden enclave but rather stepping into a homey space. He offered a tentative half-smile when he caught sight of you behind the counter.

“Uh, hi,” he began, clearing his throat as if to ground himself.

“Hello,” you returned, offering a welcoming smile.

His eyes flickered across your face, taking in your kind expression, before he schooled himself into polite cordiality—reminding himself he had come here for a reason, not just to gawk at the cute new bookseller.

“Yeah, I… I was wondering if you could help me,” he said, voice soft.

You closed the book you’d been reading and placed it to the side, standing from your chair to greet him more fully. 

“What can I do for you?” 

He cleared his throat once more—nervous habit, perhaps—and gestured loosely at the shelves behind you. 

“You’re not… the usual lady who runs this place.”

“No, I’m not. I, uh, took it over recently,” you chuckle, trying to keep the note of sorrow out of your voice as you thought of your late grandmother. “Just reopened it a couple of months ago.”

“Huh,” he said, nodding, clearly absorbing that bit of information. “Good to know.” He paused, seeming to gather his thoughts. “I’m looking for some kids’ books.”

The corners of your mouth lifted in a gentle smile. “Kids’ books?”

“Yeah,” he confirmed, stuffing his hands into his jacket pockets. It was a little awkward, the way he rocked on his heels, as though not entirely sure how to stand. 

You offered to show him the children’s section, stepping out from behind the counter and leading him through a short row of middle-grade novels. The far corner of the shop was dedicated in bright colors, whimsical cover art, and lower shelves that invited small hands to grab at storybooks.

“This is where we keep the children’s section,” you said, sweeping your hand over the shelves. “How old are yours?”

He blinked in surprise, eyes widening. 

“Oh—oh, I don’t… I’m not— I don’t have any.” A flush of pink returned to his cheeks, and he quickly added, “I need them for work.”

“Work?” Your brows arched in curiosity. 

“Yeah, I’m a teacher. Second grade,” he explained. “My kids—they’re around seven or eight.”

“Ah,” you breathed, nodding. “That makes sense.” 

Turning back to the shelves, you placed a hand on the upper row of picture-heavy chapter books. 

“These are aimed at eight-to-ten-year-olds,” you said, tapping a few titles you recognised as popular, “and these down here,” you crouched to point out another set, “are a bit younger, around five to seven.”

He followed your gestures intently, glancing between you and the books. You didn’t miss the slight dart of his eyes, noticing the way he took you in with a curiosity and—appreciation? Though he seemed quick to hide it.

“Honestly, I’m not super well-versed on the new stuff,” he admitted, the confession made all the more sweet by his earnest tone. “What would you recommend?”

You straightened up and began scanning the spines. 

“Well, we have a few encyclopedias that are really engaging for that age group—lots of pictures, fun facts. The classics, too—Roald Dahl, E.B. White. They never go out of style.”

“Perfect, yeah,” he said, nodding along, already imagining reading the stories aloud. Then, almost unprompted, his eyes lit up in a flash of recognition. “Oh—there’s this one book I read as a kid, about a boy who, uh… posted himself through the mailbox or something?”

The excitement in his voice was contagious, and you couldn’t help but giggle, your own smile widening. In that moment, you saw how approachable he was—a man who loved sharing a piece of his childhood with his students. His face reddened at your soft laughter, but he seemed more embarrassed by his enthusiastic outburst than upset.

“Flat Stanley,” you offered, the name rolling easily off your tongue.

“That’s the one!” He looked almost triumphant. “Man, my mom used to read that to me all the time, can’t believe I forgot the name.”

“I don’t think we have a physical copy right now.” You scanned the rows but shook your head.  “But I can get it delivered if you’d like?”

Relief washed over his features as he released a breath he probably hadn’t realised he was holding. 

“Oh, thank God,” he said, smiling. “That’s great. Didn’t want them to be disappointed.” His gaze flickered over you for a moment. 

“Why don’t you just borrow from the library?” You tilted your head. 

He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. 

“Well… we tried, but the books kind of got destroyed. Kids that age can be… a lot,” he explained with a dry chuckle, eyes crinkling at the memory. “The librarians and I have come to a mutual agreement that I should probably source my own copies.”

“I see.” You couldn’t help but grin, picturing a bunch of rambunctious kids flipping through pages with sticky fingers, leaving chaos in their wake. “That can happen.”

Standing next to him as he peered intently at the spines, you felt a fondness bloom for this stranger who cared enough about his class to restock his own library. 

He wasn’t exactly bad to look at either. You almost envied his students, getting to see him like this every day—but you quickly redirected your thoughts before they could wander too far. You were supposed to be helping him out, not gawking while he tried to do something sweet.

A quiet fell between you, his profile illuminated as he studied each title.

“Hey,” you offered gently, feeling brave, “if you want, I could pick out a selection for you and order them in? Might be easier than you spending your whole Saturday leafing through everything.”

“Really? That would be… amazing, actually.” His face lit up at the suggestion, and the gratitude in his eyes made something flutter pleasantly in your chest. 

“Of course,” you said, gesturing for him to follow you back to the counter. You made your way around to your usual spot, grabbing a pen and a patterned notepad. 

“Alright,” you began, poised to write. “Do you have a budget for these?”

“Not really,” he answered, shrugging one shoulder. “I figure about ten books, give or take. Whatever you recommend. I want to cover all the bases.”

You jotted down a note, nodding in approval. 

“No problem.” You glanced up at him. “Any particular genres you had in mind?”

“No, just a little bit of everything. Some nonfiction to keep ‘em curious, few adventure stories… Maybe some silly stuff too.” His eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “Kids love silly.”

“Silly, got it.” You chuckled, writing that down. “And where should I send them? Or—what school was it?”

“Hawkins Elementary.” He smiled, almost proudly, and you wondered for a moment if he had grown up around here.

“Makes sense,” you murmured, scribbling another note. Then you paused, pen poised above the page. “And can I have a name?”

“Oh! Right, sorry. It’s uh, Steve. Steve Harrington.”

Repeating his name softly as you wrote it, you offered him a warm, reassuring look. Steve Harrington. It had a certain ring to it. The corners of your lips curved up as you thought about how well ‘Harrington’ would look on the small slip you’d attach to his order.

He swallowed, finding your attention unexpectedly disarming.

“Alright then, Steve. When do you need these by?”

“As soon as possible,” he admitted, looking a bit helpless. “If that’s alright, I’d love to have them by Monday—though I know that’s short notice.”

You checked the small calendar pinned to the side of the counter and tapped the date lightly.

“We’re closed Mondays, so I can have them delivered then—no problem at all.”

“You can?” His relief was so palpable it made you laugh. “You’re a lifesaver.”

“I’ll do my best.” The warmth in your voice matched the gratitude in his eyes. 

He lingered a moment, as though he wanted to say something else—perhaps ask more questions or keep chatting, but he caught himself, clearing his throat again. 

“Thank you,” he repeated, more quietly this time. “For all your help.”

You waved off the formality. “That’s what I’m here for.”

He gave a small nod, a smile tugging at his lips. Before he turned to leave, he lifted a hand in a goodbye wave. You echoed the motion, finding the gesture unexpectedly sweet. As the door swung open, letting in a brief gust of cold air, you could see how his cheeks coloured once again in the bracing wind.

The bell jingled to mark his exit, and you simply watched the door close behind him. He trudged back onto the pavement, jacket pulled snug. He allowed himself a quick glance through the front window, catching one last glimpse of you looking after him with that gentle smile. A slight flutter caught him off-guard—relief at having found exactly what he needed for his students and a barely-there thump at meeting someone he hadn’t before. 

It’s not everyday someone new moves to town, especially one around his age and with such a soft demeanour. He walked away, the faintest grin played on his lips, leaving him feeling lighter than when he’d first stepped inside. 

You sank back into your seat behind the counter, already thinking of the perfect selection of books to gather for the following week. But also wondering if you’d see that soft-spoken teacher again soon.

Monday morning brought a crispness to the air that you felt through your coat. You sat parked in front of Hawkins Elementary School, drumming your fingers on the steering wheel, trying to summon enough courage to make your delivery. 

The box of books you’d so carefully selected for Steve Harrington and his second graders was tucked in the backseat—carefully wedged between a pile of tote bags and a folded-up umbrella. It wasn’t heavy enough to break your back, but it still felt significant, because of what it contained and who it was going to.

You hadn’t expected to feel nervous. This was, after all, part of your job—providing customers with the books they needed. Yet a twinge of excitement emerged in your stomach whenever you remembered his soft brown eyes and that quietly dorky grin. 

He’d seemed so genuinely pleased when you mentioned Flat Stanley; you’d practically sprinted to the phone after he left, calling your supplier to confirm you could get a copy in time. Part of you told yourself you were just being a good shopkeeper—wanting a repeat customer, ensuring satisfaction, all that. But in truth, you knew there was a deeper motive at play. 

You wanted to see him smile again.

Drawing a steadying breath, you stepped out of your car and walked around to open the trunk. The box was bulky, and a small grunt escaped your lips as you lifted it out. Clutching it carefully in both arms, you made your way across the short walkway to the main entrance. The school doors gleamed in the late morning light, and you nudged them open with your shoulder, the scent of floor polish and crayons that seemed to greet you as soon as you stepped inside.

A lone receptionist—an older gentleman in a sweater vest—looked up from behind his computer screen as you approached. You offered your brightest smile, placing the box gently on the desk before explaining, 

“Good morning.” You greet him. “I have a delivery for Steve Harrington?”

“Yes, he’s here.” His eyebrows perked with polite curiosity. “What would it be for?”

“Just books.” You slid the lid off the box, revealing a tidy row of colorful spines. “I work at the bookshop on Oak Street.”

Recognition dawned in his eyes as he nodded. 

“Ah, yes. Been in there a few times—nice place,” he noted, then glanced over his shoulder at a clock on the wall. “He’s probably with his class right now. Break’s in about ten minutes, though, so you might catch him.”

He rose to his feet and gave you clear directions. 

“Down the hall, first room on your left once you reach the end.”

“Thank you so much.” You slid the box’s lid back into place, gathering it carefully in your arms again.

The corridor stretched ahead, brightly lit by overhead fixtures. Child-sized artwork taped to the walls shifted in a faint draft—handprints in rainbow paint, construction paper collages, and scrawling pencil drawings of families and pets. 

Everything felt warm, friendly. Despite being new to Hawkins, you already felt the community’s kindness wrapping around you.

You found the door labeled “2B” easily enough. The window set into the top allowed a small glimpse inside, and what you saw made your breath catch in delight. 

Steve was crouched next to a student’s chair, his posture open and attentive as he listened to a young girl excitedly explain something, her little hands gesturing in all directions. His own hands were braced on his knees, and you could see his eyes crinkle when he smiled. He nodded along as though whatever she was saying was the most important information in the world.

It was absolute, wonderful chaos—kids milling around in their seats, pages turning, pencils scribbling, a few quiet squeals of excitement from a group in the corner that filtered through the door. But Steve seemed perfectly at home there in the midst of it all, soothing any anxious energy with gentle instruction.

A light rap of your knuckles on the door went unheard—Steve was so focused on the small child in front of him, nodding along to the excited chatter that spilled from the little one’s mouth that the sound didn’t register. You lingered for a moment, balancing the heavy box in your arms. 

When his attention didn’t shift on the second attempt, you carefully pushed the door open with your hip. That slight movement must have caught his eye because he glanced over, registered your presence, and offered you a bright smile. He held his finger up apologetically and mouthed a: “One sec.” You responded with a quick nod, glancing around the room and taking it all in.

The classroom was pure, bursting with the wonder only associated with childhood. The walls were lined with drawings, some wobbly stick figures with unmistakable swoopy hair, others detailed crayon masterpieces that clearly took serious effort. They stretched across the length of the room like an ever-growing mural of creativity, pinned up with care rather than neat precision. 

His desk was a happy kind of cluttered—pens in every colour were scattered in cups and across papers, alongside little stacks of homemade cards with messy, heartfelt messages scrawled in different handwriting. A few framed photos sat amongst the chaos—one of Steve surrounded by his students, another of him and you assume his friends, grinning mid-laugh.

The reading corner was cosy, though the shelves looked slightly bare, with a rug that was a little too soft and bean bags that were well-loved and possibly past their prime. A small chalkboard at the front had doodles in different colours, little inside jokes between him and the class. In one corner, a calendar was decorated with goofy stickers marking birthdays and "important events," a few glittery stars suggested the kids fully endorsed it.

Everything about the space screamed safe, fun, and loved. You could feel it in the way the room was lived-in, the way nothing felt stiff or too polished. He had poured himself into this place, making it somewhere his kids actually wanted to be. And it was impossible not to smile looking at it.

Glancing back at him, you took a moment to appreciate the sight of him in his element. He wore a rust-colored jumper, tucked into jeans with a bold smear of what looked like red paint on one thigh—an inevitable hazard of teaching little ones, apparently. 

He had a calm, attentive expression as he finished listening to the girl, who was still gesturing animatedly. When he finally stood up, his sweater rode up just slightly, revealing the curve of his waist before he pulled it quickly back into place. You caught yourself thinking he looked genuinely beautiful, even amid a swirl of classroom hysterics. He crossed the room with an apologetic smile. 

“Hello, again,” he greeted you in a voice that held gratitude. Your heart did a small flip at the way his gaze flickered from the box in your arms to your eyes. You couldn’t resist a playful quip. 

“Delivery for Mr. Harrington?”

A faint flush coloured his cheeks, and he chuckled under his breath. 

“Yep, uh, that’s me.” He reached out and gently lifted the box from your arms, setting it on his desk at the front as children laughed and played in the background. “Sorry you had to carry it all the way here.”

You wave a hand in front as if to tell him not to worry, he glanced at the clock mounted above the door and turned back to you. 

“Could you give me five minutes? I wanna show them what we got.” The eager gleam in his eyes was entirely too charming.

“Sure,” you agreed softly, catching the brief glimpse of excitement on his face as he lifted the lid and took in the neat stack of titles you’d chosen. His smile widened when he spotted the beloved Flat Stanley perched near the top, and you could almost feel the tension melt from his shoulders as he realised you’d pulled through.

Yeah, maybe you wanted it to be the first book he saw. So what?

Steve turned to the class, a gentle command in his voice as he clapped his hands twice. Almost instantly, the children quieted. You half expected them to carry on shrieking, but they gazed up at him with unwavering attention, surprising you with their composure. In that moment, you understood that these kids trusted him completely.

“Alright, everyone, eyes up here. We have something very exciting that’s just arrived.” His tone was soft yet enthusiastic. “Someone was kind enough to make a trip to bring us something special. Any guesses what’s in this box? Hands up.”

Little hands shot up in the air—or, in some cases, little voices called out answers without waiting to be chosen. Steve grinned, an indulgent, affectionate smile that lit up his entire face. After a chorus of guesses—“Chocolate!” “Dinosaurs!”—he chuckled and reached inside the box, retrieving Flat Stanley to hold up for emphasis.

“If anyone said books, you were correct.” He pointed the cover toward the sea of wide-eyed students, then gave you a grateful glance that made your stomach flutter. Turning back to the group, he continued. “We have some brand-new books, and these are just for us. That means we have to look after them, okay?”

A short silence followed. Then, with a gentle prompt.

“Can anyone tell me what we are not going to do with them?” 

Every hand in the room shot up. 

“Rip them!” A small boy yelled out.

“That’s right,” Steve agreed, beaming at the child. “The pages tear easily. What else?”

“We don’t throw them!” Another student chimed in.

Steve’s expression flickered with amused severity, no doubt recalling some past mishap. 

“Exactly. No throwing—especially not at each other.”

Unable to resist joining in, you raised your hand along with the children. Steve’s gaze shifted to you, a hint of delight in his eyes that you’d play along. You offered your own rule. 

“We don’t draw on them.”

“Absolutely,” he said, nodding sagely and turning back to his class. “Some of them already have pictures, and they don’t need you adding more, okay? If you want to draw, we have plenty of paper at the back.”

They all nodded, and you felt a rush of affection for his patient approach. He wasn’t stern in the way some teachers might be; instead, he treated the kids like partners, inviting them to share in the responsibility. You couldn’t help but feel a little flustered at how effortlessly he seemed to balance control and kindness.

Steve turns to you with a grateful expression before addressing the class again.

"Okay, now what do we all say?" he prompts, his voice warm and expectant.

A disjointed chorus of "Thank you!" erupts from the kids, some louder than others, a few delayed, and at least one who just echoes the words a beat too late like an afterthought. The sincerity in their little voices makes your cheeks warm, and you can’t help but laugh.

He was clearly proud as he glances around at his students, then flicks his eyes up at the clock,                                telling him it was nearly break time. 

“Alright, we are gonna take a short break. Grab your snacks from your cubbies, and then come back to your desks, alright?”

A joyful scramble ensued—chairs scraped against the floor, and the children dashed off in unison, giggling as they rifled through bright backpacks and lunchboxes. 

Steve turned to you with a lightness in his eyes, the excited buzz of his students drifting behind him. His lips curved into that grateful smile you remembered from the bookshop. 

“Honestly, thank you so much for doing this,” he said, quietly enough that only you could hear.

“It’s no problem, really—it’s kind of my job.” You felt a warm flush rise to your cheeks, and you tried to deflect any praise.

Still, he couldn’t help the appreciation that washed over him. You looked so earnest, standing there in the middle of his classroom, and he found himself thinking that you were sweeter than he’d initially realised. 

“Good contribution on the ‘no drawing’ rule, by the way,” he teased softly, chuckling. “We have had issues with that before…”

“Thought so,” you replied as you looked around once more. “Kind of jealous I have to leave your class after this—it seems fun here.” You gestured to the room, taking in the brightly colours and kids rifling through their little lunchboxes.

His eyes flicked around the room, landing on the paint smudge on his own jeans as if to prove a point. 

“It can be,” he said, wry amusement in his tone, “but it’s definitely a handful.” There was a slight pause as he glanced back at the box on his desk. “So, how much do I owe you for all this?”

“Seventy dollars,” you answered, feeling a bit uncomfortable about naming the price.

Without missing a beat, he opened a drawer and fished out his wallet, sliding out a few bills. 

“Went to the ATM this morning,” he explained with a small shrug. “Was expecting you.”

Your hand closed around the money, but you lifted your gaze to him in concern. 

“Aren’t the school’s funds supposed to cover this?”

He huffed a short laugh. “Not a chance with the budget we’ve got—and especially after the last round got destroyed.”

A pang of sympathy flashed through you. You didn’t like the idea of him footing the bill just so his students could have decent reading material. 

“Then let’s make it fifty,” you offered, handing him back a portion of the money.

“No, no way.” His eyes went wide, and he shook his head firmly. “Take it.”

“If you give me all that,” you said, adopting a light, playful tone, “I’m just going to leave the difference at the front desk for you at the end of the day.”

“Come on,” he frowned, looking torn. “That’s not fair.”

“It’s books for children,” you shrugged. “It’s the least I can do.”

He exhaled a resigned sigh, finally conceding and pocketing some of the cash. 

“Fine,” he muttered, embarrassed.

An instant later, you saw a flicker of something cross his face—resolve, or maybe nerves. He glanced at the class, making sure they were occupied, then gestured toward the door. With a silent tilt of his head, he indicated you should both step into the hall.

Out in the corridor, the sudden quiet felt almost jarring compared to the cheerful chaos inside. The overhead lights were softer here, and you looked up at him with what Steve could only describe as the biggest, most open doe eyes he’d ever seen. His heart thumped a little faster. 

Spending all day with second graders had left him woefully out of practice when it came to talking to someone his own age—especially if he might be asking them out.

“If you, uh, won’t take the money…” he began, clearing his throat. “Maybe you’d like to let me buy you a coffee sometime? My treat. As—as a thank-you, for everything.”

The invitation caught you off guard, and a gentle blush warmed your cheeks. He picked up on it immediately, and worry flashed across his expression. 

“Is that too forward?” he backpedaled quickly. “Sorry—I’m sorry, forget I said anything—”

“No, wait,” you interrupted, mustering a quiet laugh at how flustered he seemed. “I’d love to meet you for coffee.”

His shoulders visibly relaxed, relief flooding his features. 

“Yeah?” he asked, a small, triumphant smile quirking his lips. “That’s…That’s good.”

“We’re closed on Sundays, I’m assuming you’d be free then?” You offered as you smiled back, feeling an unexpected rush of excitement of your own. 

“Sunday is perfect,” he said, nodding a bit too eagerly. “Do you know the coffee place on Maple?”

A soft sparkle lit your eyes. “I love their pastries,” you admitted, grin widening.

“Me too,” he said, scrubbing a hand through his hair. “How about eleven?”

Eleven, you repeated in your head, trying not to beam too obviously. 

“That works for me.”

“Great—eleven.” He tried to hang onto an air of casualness, but there was no denying the spark in his expression.

You turned to go, warmth spreading from your chest all the way to your toes, when he suddenly called out. 

“Wait—I, uh, didn’t catch your name.”

A slight laugh escaped you at his flustered state, and you told him softly. He repeated it under his breath, letting it roll off his tongue as though to memorise the sound. 

“Right. Sunday at eleven.” He echoed the words again, as if reassuring himself that this was really happening, before heading back into the classroom.

You took a small moment, hugging that sense of anticipation. As you walked away, you caught the echo of his voice as the door began to shut. 

“Alright, guys,” he announced brightly, “who’s gonna help me put these away?”

A gentle laugh escaped you as the door closed behind, picturing the eager hands shooting up in response to his question. In that instant, the hallway felt a little less quiet, and your footsteps sounded more like a happy skip than anything else.

taglist: @daisy-is-a-writer

[hatsukeii]

the curious case of kageyama tobio's love life / kageyama tobio x reader

genre(s): crack + fluff! timeskip au (third year/graduation), investigative report format, secretly dating trope, drunk x sober LMFAO

warnings(s): drunk people and house parties... (underage drinking is not! recommended here!), defs multiple/many uses of y/n because of how the fic is formatted but you need to trust the process PLEASE (sorry!) also reader's ass gets slapped by kags as a dare...

wc: ~4k

tldr; below is a transcript, recounted by partygoers hinata shoyo, tsukishima kei, yachi hitoka, and yamaguchi tadashi, of the happenings at hinata shoyo's graduation house party, set on the night of 29th march. any and all hearings have been sworn to be the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. they think. probably.

[Report #1- Initiated by Hinata Shoyo]

Date of occurrence: March 29

Time of occurrence: 7:20pm

Location of occurrence: Living room

Kageyama Tobio is the third guest to arrive at Hinata Shoyo's residence, twenty minutes after Tsukishima Kei and Yamaguchi Tadashi. He carries with him the items that were agreed on the night prior- two twelve-packs of beer, one two litre bottle of coke, one Nintendo switch, and two Nintendo Pro controllers. Upon entry, Hinata Shoyo greets him at the door, and the following conversation ensues between Hinata Shoyo and Kageyama Tobio.

[Transcript #1- provided by Hinata Shoyo]

S. Hinata: You're here, what's good! You got the stuff too?

T. Kageyama: Yeah. Where's everyone else?

S. Hinata: Daichi's on patrol until eight, Suga's picking him up when he's done. Yachi's lining up to pick up the cake with y/n-

T. Kageyama: Cool, I'll put the stuff down there. (He signals to the kitchen counter across the living room)

[End of transcript #1]

Kageyama Tobio proceeds to the television, where he sets up his Nintendo on the dock. He then offers a controller to Tsukishima Kei, who accepts, and joins Kageyama in a game of Super Smash Bros. Upon opening the character menu, half of his characters are unavailable for use, evident by the following conversation that ensues between Tsukishima Kei and Kageyama Tobio.

[Transcript #2- Provided by Tsukishima Kei]

T. Kageyama: What the fuck?

K. Tsukishima: For someone who's had this game since release, you're pretty shit if you can barely move past the starter characters.

T. Kageyama: Shut up. [He proceeds to the home page of his console.]

K. Tsukishima: Sure.

[End of transcript #2]

Kageyama Tobio then leaps to the dock, unplugging it for a total of forty-two (Hinata Shoyo estimates) seconds. During its downtime, he is seen to be wiping his neck with one hand, tapping at the screen with the other. The game of Super Smash Bros ensues when he replugs it onto the dock, to reveal a fully unlocked character selection screen. Kageyama Tobio, who plays Sonic the Hedgehog, loses 1:2 against Tsukishima Kei, who plays Sora. But don't tell him that Hinata Shoyo kept count. Thanks.

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[Report #2- Initiated by Yachi Hitoka]

Date of occurrence: March 29

Time of occurrence: 7:46pm

Location of occurrence: Living room, kitchen

Yachi Hitoka and y/n are the sixth and seventh guests to arrive at Hinata Shoyo's residence. By the time they step foot into the house, Hinata Shoyo is three vodka redbulls in, courtesy of Tanaka Ryunosuke and Nishinoya Yuu's contributions to the party's catalogue of available drinks, and is shooting down a fourth with Yamaguchi Tadashi, who is on his first drink of the night. Tsukishima Kei is one can of beer in, and is wrestling Kageyama Tobio on the couch, who is two cans of beer in. Upon entry, Hinata Shoyo slings an arm around Yamaguchi Tadashi, and drags him along to greet the two guests. The following conversation ensues between Yachi Hitoka, Hinata Shoyo, Yamaguchi Tadashi, and y/n.

[Transcript #3- Provided by Yachi Hitoka]

Y/n: What is going on...?

S. Hinata: You're heeeere! C'mon, take a bit from me! [Hinata Shoyo proceeds to tilt his glass too far into his face, and breathe in roughly 250mL of redbull mixed with vodka. He chokes. Yamaguchi Tadashi attempts to worm out of Hinata Shoyo's grasp. His attempt is unsuccessful.]

H. Yachi: If this is what forty minutes looks like, I don't think I wanna know what happens later.

Y/n: Why are they wrestling like... that?

H. Yachi: Men.

T. Yamaguchi: Men.

S. Hinata: [coughs]

Y/n: Understandable.

[End of transcript #3]

Y/n heads to the kitchen counter, where they set a cake into the fridge. Kageyama Tobio breaks free from Tsukishima Kei's sloppy side pin at this moment. Tsukishima Kei heads for the bathroom, and does not return until twenty minutes later. It is unsure what occurred in the bathroom, but not of importance. Kageyama makes a beeline for the fridge, and stubs his toe on the corner of the kitchen counter. He is...unusually uncoordinated, and barges into the space beside y/n, only to grab a third beer and push his way out again. Y/n shoots him a side eye, one that nobody else notices, except for Yachi Hitoka, who is currently writing this report. It's pretty scary, actually, they're a little scary with the side eye. But that is besides the point.

Y/n does not take a drink, but instead heads to the now empty couch, where they pick up the discarded Nintendo Pro controllers off the ground, and invite Yamaguchi Tadashi and Yachi Hitoka to a game of Super Smash Bros. Upon entering the game, y/n selects Sonic as their character. Kageyama Tobio returns to the couch with a can of beer at this moment, and the following conversation ensues between y/n, and Kageyama Tobio.

[Transcript #4- Provided by Yachi Hitoka]

T. Kageyama: Why aren't you picking Ness?

Y/n: I feel like Sonic today, so why not?

T. Kageyama: Sonic's difficult, even for me. Fun, though.

Y/n: I never get to play Sonic, so now that I can, I'm using him.

T. Kageyama: ...Fair enough.

[End of transcript #4]

Following the conversation, Kageyama Tobio does not leave the area. He leans with his forearms against the edge of the couch, and his hands hanging just above y/n's shoulders. He does, however, watch the game and the game only. Y/n, who plays Sonic the Hedgehog, ties with Yachi Hitoka, who plays Kirby. They both lose to Yamaguchi Tadashi, who plays Joker.

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[Report #3- initiated by Tsukishima Kei]

Date of occurrence: March 29

Time of occurrence: 9:02pm

Location of occurrence: Living room

Disclaimer: Tsukishima Kei would like to preface that from this point onwards, his recounts may be liable to errors in continuity and/or accuracy. This is because by 9pm, he was three cans of beer, and one can of Jack Daniels and coke in. Daichi Sawamura, in his fancy police uniform and all, insisted on staying sober, so he will be fact checking any of Tsukishima Kei's recounts up until the point when he leaves the party prematurely. Daichi Sawamura will be aided by Sugawara Koushi, who also insisted on staying sober. For the children, he said. From Daichi Sawamura and Sugawara Koushi's departures onwards, any and all informtaion provided by Tsukishima Kei is subject to human error and inaccuracies. Apologies for the inconvenience.

[The following is fact checked by Daichi Sawamura and Sugawara Koushi]

Hinata Shoyo, who has managed to hold in four vodka redbulls, one can of beer, and half a vodka cruiser thus far, makes the suggestion to play drunken truth or dare. At this point in time, Kageyama Tobio is three cans of beer, and two cans of Jack Daniels and coke in. He is half-asleep on y/n, who looks visibly distraught, like when a guy you're not really into thinks he's allowed to sleep on your shoulder. At Hinata's proposal of truth or dare, y/n speaks into the air, however, it is inaudible to Tsukishima Kei, who has just returned from another twenty minute break in the bathroom. What can be said? The guy needs his downtime away from the rest of these drunk idiots. (This is a Daichi Sawamura approved comment)

In y/n's hand is a red cup, however, it is unconfirmed whether its contents are alcoholic or not. Everybody sits in a circle on the ground of Hinata Shoyo's living room, and in the fourth round of truth or dare, the following conversation ensues between Hinata Shoyo, y/n, Kageyama Tobio, Tsukishima Kei, and Yachi Hitoka.

[Transcript #5- Provided by Tsukishima Kei (aided by Daichi Sawamura and Sugawara Koushi)]

S. Hinata: Who's to SAYYYY...it isn't somebody...RIGHT HEEEEERE! [Hinata Shoyo swirls a bottled vodka cruiser in circles, and spills rougly 15mL of its contents onto his carpet. Nobody notices this. The carpet is not cleaned until the next morning. This will be of importance.]

T. Kageyama: Yeahhhhh...YEAAAAAAH! It HAAAAS to be somebody here, riiiiiiight?...RIIIIIIIGHT? [Kageyama Tobio nudges y/n's shoulders as he prods on. His inquisition is futile, as y/n does not respond directly to his advances. However, they shoot him a look. You know, the look of panic when a guy that you're a little bit into starts totally hitting on you in front of everyone.]

Y/n: Yachi's question was are you into anybody. Yes, I am. Who's next?

K. Tsukishima: Well...it's no FUN if you're not telling us whooooo! C'monnn, a guy hits on you every other day...it's BOOOOORING if you don't tell usssssss...specifics! Yeah, specifics!

T. Kageyama: You're...stiiiiiill getting hit on by OTHERRRR GUYSSSSS? [Kageyama Tobio proceeds to grab y/n by the shoulders, and turn them to face himself. Y/n is visibly taken aback. They shoot another look. the kind of look where your mouth is open and you suddenly stop blinking because you aren't sure how to anymore.]

Y/n: Can we...can we please move on to the next person? Thanks! [Y/n taps Kageyama Tobio's wrists two times. Kageyama Tobio releases y/n from his grasp, and folds his arms.]

H. Yachi: Goooooootcha! [Yachi Hitoka takes a swig from a red cup. Its contents are known to be cream soda and vodka in a 7:1 ratio, courtesy of Hinata Shoyo's contributions to the party's catalogue of available drinks. At this moment, Yachi Hitoka is two drinks in, and that is already two drinks too many.] So, Yamaguchi! Truuuuuuuth...or dare?

[End of transcript #5]

This round of truth or dare continues for another thirteen minutes. No further interactions are recorded between Kageyama Tobio and y/n within this timeframe. Daichi Sawamura and Sugawara Koushi leave the party prematurely at 9:20pm.

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[Report #4- Initiated by Tsukishima Kei]

Date of occurrence: March 29

Time of occurrence: 9:52pm

Location of occurrence: Living room, kitchen

[The following is not fact checked by Daichi Sawamura or Sugawara Koushi, and may contain inaccuracies. Ensure to cross check with multiple reliable sources. As reliable as you can get with a group of hammered, freshly graduated young adults, and their enabling seniors, at least. For the record, Tsukishima Kei has ceased his consumption of alcohol by this point in time. Tsukishima Kei's brother, Tsukishima Akiteru, gives him the talk when he returns home the following day, but that is not of importance. So don't worry about it. Just know that Tsukishima Kei was the second most responsible drinker of the night. Thanks.]

At approximately...9:52pm? Yes, 9:52pm, sure. At 9:52pm, y/n separates from the truth or dare circle, and proceeds towards the kitchen. They are seen filling up a red cup with coke, and nothing else. While y/n is away from the larger group, the following conversation ensues between Nishinoya Yuu, Kageyama Tobio, Tsukishima Kei, and Hinata Shoyo.

[Transcript #6- Provided by Tsukishima Kei]

Y. Nishinoya: No...I'VE GOT a GOOOOOOOOD ONE FOR HIM! ...KAGEYAMA! I...daaaaaare YOU!

K. Tsukishima: He asked for a truuuuuuuuuuth, not a...DAAAARE!

S. Hinata: GODDAMN LET HIIIIIIM FINISHHHHHH....

Y. Nishinoya: Yeaaaaaah, asshooooooole. Leeeeeet me FINISHHHHHH! [Nishinoya Yuu sniffs, and stares into the ceiling for four seconds. Not a single thought is coherent in Nishinoya Yuu's mind.]

T. Kageyama: Whaaaat am I dooooing! I'm gaaaaame enough...for ANYTHING! ANYTHIIIIIING! [Kageyama Tobio possesses a look that is a little insane, and proceeds to...beat at his chest? What the fuck? Did he actually beat at his fucking chest? (This is not Daichi Sawamura approved. Please cross check with reliable sources.)]

Y. Nishinoya: I daaaare YOU! To smack y/n's aaaaaaaass...hahah...ha.... [Nishinoya Yuu falls over to the side. He remains in slumber for the next thirty-two minutes.]

S. Hinata: Thaaaaaat...is CRAAAZY! Kaaaageyamaaaaa...are youuuuu! Gaaaaaame enoughhhhh!

[End of transcript #5]

Kageyama Tobio pushes himself off the ground at Hinata Shoyo and Nishinoya Yuu's provocations. He snickers to himself, and walks to the kitchen, where y/n is placing the two litre bottle of coke into the fridge. Kageyama Tobio proceeds to advance towards y/n, and smacks their behind, before…squeezing it? And then jiggling it in his- what the…fuck is going on? (This is not Daichi Sawamura approved, please cross check with reliable sources.) Y/n snaps around at the abrupt impact, and empties the contents of their cup onto Kageyama Tobio. It's a shame Nishinoya Yuu is too knocked out to witness what he has provoked. Sucks. The following commotion ensues between Kageyama Tobio, and y/n. Please note that parts of the conversation were inaudible from the truth or dare circle's location.

[Transcript #6- Provided by Tsukishima Kei, Yachi Hitoka, Hinata Shoyo, and Yamaguchi Tadashi]

Y/n: WHATTTTT the FUCK KAGEYAMA.

T. Kageyama: [inaudible]

Y/n: Oh...my fucking God! You are! Very drunk!

T. Kageyama: [Turns to the truth or dare circle.] TOOOLD YOU! I'M GAAAAAME ENOUGH! FOR AAAAAAAANYTHING!

Y/n: [inaudible]...NISHINOYA! [Y/n shoots a look towards the truth or dare circle. One of disdain. Contempt, even. In hindsight, the dare was much too inappropriate. Here is a reminder for everybody to apologise at the next available chance.]

T. Kageyama: Soooorry, [inaudible].

Y/n: [inaudible]...God, I should have never did it to you the first time. Not the place. Not! the place! [Y/n proceeds to grab Kageyama Tobio by the shoulders, turning him around. Kageyama Tobio is ushered into the bathroom, alongside y/n. Y/n shoots one more look at the truth or dare circle. Tsukishima Kei, as he writes this transcript, is beginning to understand Yachi Hitoka's slight fear of y/n. It's the side eye. They are definitely a little scary with the side eye.]

T. Kageyama: Ouuuuuu, the BAAAATHROOM! Thaaat's a firstttttt. [Kageyama Tobio wiggles his brows, and it's kind of creepy. Like when a guy is trying a little too hard to get laid, and is throwing every existing pickup line at you. Y/n smacks him in the side of his head, and pushes Kageyama Tobio into the bathroom. They slam the bathroom door shut and lock it. The two do not return until fifteen minutes later. It is unsure what occurred during that timeframe.]

[End of transcript #6]

When Kageyama Tobio and y/n return to the living room, it is approximately 10:12pm. Nishinoya Yuu is still asleep on the floor, and shows mild signs of...nevermind. Yachi Hitoka and Yamaguchi Tadashi have moved on to drunken karaoke. Hinata Shoyo and Tanaka Ryunosuke learn to do the Rasputin beside Nishinoya Yuu's unconscious body. Kageyama Tobio and y/n settle beside Yamaguchi Tadashi and Yachi Hitoka respectively, and pretend to be at a concert where the singers can barely remember their own lyrics and aren't sure what notes to hit. Tsukishima Kei wants to go home, but hasn't gathered a satisfactory amount of blackmail yet. Therefore, Tsukishima Kei stays the night. He passes out on the living room carpet at 12:03am.

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[Report #6- Initiated by Yamaguchi Tadashi and Hinata Shoyo]

Date of occurrence: March 30

Time of occurrence: 12:12am

Location of occurrence: Living room

Disclaimer: Any and all recounts made my Hinata Shoyo and Yamaguchi Tadashi from this point onwards may be liable to errors and inaccuracies. Since Tsukishima Kei made the disclaimer, the two believed they too were responsible for making one of their own. They admit that they were not responsible drinkers. They also admit that this will, undoubtedly, happen again.

12:12am is a time of silence. By this time, Tsukishima Kei has fallen asleep on the carpet, just beside Hinata Shoyo’s cruiser spill. He does not wake until 11:13am of March 30. Yachi Hitoka leaves the residence at approximately 11:30pm, alongside Tanaka Ryunosuke and Nishinoya Yuu, who are all picked up by Kiyoko Shimizu. Yamaguchi Tadashi and Hinata Shoyo are positioned at the kitchen counter, where they eat the graduation cake with their bare hands. At this point in time, Yamaguchi Tadashi has ceased all alcohol consumption, tapping out at two vodka redbulls, and two cream soda and vodkas in a 5:1 ratio. Hinata Shoyo, who has thrown up twice between this report and the last, has also ceased all alcohol consumption, tapping out at four vodka redbulls, one can of beer, and one vodka cruiser. Does cake work as a hangover cure? So sinful, so decadent…who gets to eat the happy graduation chocolate sign? Pay that no mind, for it is unimportant. What is of importance, is Kageyama Tobio and y/n’s current form.

Kageyama Tobio, who has tapped out after three cans of beer, two cans of Jack Daniels and coke, and an additional shot of pure vodka, stirs in his half slumber. This is no regular half slumber, but is one of intimacy, and of lovesick vulnerability, evident by his entire body splayed across y/n’s lap. At the time of this report, it is unsure whether y/n has consumed any amount of alcohol, but their sobriety is to be applauded regardless. (Please do not inform Kageyama Tobio of Hinata Shoyo’s comments on his character. Thanks.)

Y/n proceeds to bounce their leg twice, no, three times. Yes, three times is what it takes for Kageyama Tobio to stir awake. Hinata Shoyo and Yamaguchi Tadashi advance towards the couch at this moment, with the intention of smearing cake over Kageyama Tobio and y/n. However, upon entering the vicinity of the living room, the following conversation ensues between Kageyama Tobio, Hinata Shoyo, and y/n. Please be reminded that Hinata Shoyo and Yamaguchi Tadashi are both drunk out of their mind, and that the conversation was one of whispers. For that reason, any and all details of the transcript are liable to errors, redaction, and/or inaccuracies. Apologies for the inconvenience.

[Transcript #7- Provided by Hinata Shoyo and Yamaguchi Tadashi]

T. Kageyama: [inaudible]…leave?

Y/n: Do you? [inaudible]…car [inaudible]

T. Kageyama: I don’t [inaudible]…ow. [Kageyama Tobio rubs at his temples. Hinata Shoyo believes he is crying, but also don’t tell Kageyama Tobio he thinks that. (This is not Daichi Sawamura approved. Please cross check with reliable sources.)]

Y/n: Alright. Upsies now, I’ll drop you off. [Y/n pushes Kageyama Tobio’s body off of their lap. Kageyama Tobio whines. Hinata Shoyo is recording this entire ordeal, but there is frosting on the camera from fumbling for his phone with cake-covered hands. It is unclear who is speaking in the video, or what is happening, really.]

T. Kageyama: Drop me…offffffff? BUT I THOOOOOUGHT- [Y/n proceeds to punch Kageyama Tobio in the side, to which he doubles over. Kageyama Tobio begins to giggle uncontrollably on the ground.]

Y/n: Yes. I'm dropping you off, Tobio. Hinata? [Y/n turns to Hinata Shoyo, who throws his phone onto the ground upon being spotted. They leave the couch, and attempt to pull Kageyama Tobio to his feet. Kageyama Tobio is still giggling, and is unable to find his grounding.]

S. Hinata: Y-yeeeeeees...? [Why are they looking at Hinata Shoyo like that? No, seriously, he's getting scared thinking about it again as he writes this transcript.]

Y/n: I think I'll head out, Kageyama needs a drop off and I'm getting tired. This was fun! Thanks for holding the party, happy grad! I'll catch you around, yeah?

S. Hinata: Of COUUUUUUUUURSE...! Youuuu're NEVER! Getting rid of USSSSS!

Y/n: Yeah, of course. See you soon, Hinata. Good luck with the cleanup. [Y/n has finally managed to pull Kageyama Tobio to his feet. They yank Kageyama Tobio by the arm, and push him out the front door.]

[End of transcript #7]

At 12:15am, Kageyama Tobio and Y/n leave Hinata Shoyo's residence. Yamaguchi Tadashi, and Tsukishima Kei do not leave until the day of March 30.

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[Report #7- Initiated by Tsukishima Kei, Hinata Shoyo, Yamaguchi Tadashi]

Date of occurrence: March 30

Time of occurrence: 11:13am

Location of occurrence: Living room

Tsukishima Kei is the first to wake from the stench of the cruiser spill by his nose. God, fuck, everything hurts. Is this what death feels like? A hangover? Also, that spill? Foul, fucking rank. It comes as no surprise that vodka, steeped into the fuzz of an unwashed carpet, would undoubtedly stink. That is beside the point. Tsukishima Kei leaves the ground at the stench, and searches for his phone. He is afraid. He promised to be home by midnight. His brother is going to kill him. Following two minutes of mindless smacking at the ground, Tsukishima Kei finally finds his device. Upon closer inspection, however, the following conversation is shown on the phone.

[Transcript #8- Provided by Y/n]

Y/n: r u dead???? -1:02am

Y/n: hurry up i wanna sleep:( -1:02am

Y/n: im not hearing water istg if ur not showering im gonna fucking drown u babe i dunked SODA all over u -1:03am

Y/n: r u hearing me -1:05am

Y/n: kageyama tobio r u hearing me because i still am not hearing water from my bathroom -1:05am

Y/n: if you don't shower ur sleeping on the ground tn -1:07am

Y/n: tobio r u done omg hurry up i wanna sleep sb -1:27am

[4 missed calls from: Y/n]

[End of transcript #8]

Upon this discovery, Tsukishima Kei wakes Hinata Shoyo and Yamaguchi Tadashi, who sleep on the couch for the night. The three ruminate on their next course of action, before the phone rings. The following conversation ensues between Tsukishima Kei, and y/n. Hinata Shoyo and Yamaguchi Tadashi choose to act as bystanders.

[Transcript #9- Provided by Tsukishima Kei]

Y/n: ...Fuck.

K. Tsukishima: So.

Y/n: He dropped it while wrestling you, didn't he.

K. Tsukishima: ...We wrestled?

[End of transcript #9]

[Case Closed]

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bonus:

When you realise that Tobio's phone is MIA, he finally returns from your bathroom. Barely clothed, he shakes his head, and droplets of water come flying from his hair. His feet are heavy against the floor, and he isn't sure if he'll even make it to your bed at this rate, until you come darting out of your room, phone in hand.

"Tobio, where is your phone?"

"My phone?" His phone, it's in the bathroom, like it always is when he showers, right? Tobio grunts, annoyed at the extra return journey to the bathroom. He swipes at his T-shirt on the bathroom counter-right, that's where his shirt has gone. What meets his fingers is cold porcelain, and he frowns, pulling his shirt over his head.

"Not...here? Good question...where is it?"

You drag Tobio to your room, shutting the door behind you. When he spares no time to roll into your bed, blissfully unaware, you glare at him, and remind yourself that you do, in fact, love the guy. Even if he drunkenly slapped your ass in front of everybody four hours prior, forgot about your warnings and drank much too far past his limit, and has by now, probably outed your relationship to everyone at the party, despite keeping it perfectly hidden for over a year. Unfortunately, you remind yourself once again that you indeed, do love Kageyama Tobio, so this can wait. What is important now, is catching up on lost slumber, and forcing Tobio to join you.

Crawling into bed beside him, you finally melt into his arms for the first time tonight, away from the eyes of the Karasuno volleyball team. Tobio smiles, satisfied with the way that you're relaxing against him, instead of pushing him off and smacking his head. He inhales the scent of your shampoo, slips his hands beneath your shirt to hold your bare waist. This is comfortable. You are comfortable. Better than whatever he was on at that party.

"Oh well, who cares? You probably dropped it while wrestling with Tsukishima."

"...I wrestled Tsukishima?"

author's note:

I hope this is as fun to read as it was to write and i also hope it's actually good because it's so crack that there's not really any fluff until the bonus bit at the end BUT i'll come back with some proper butterfly inducing fluff and or angst soon!! love u all!!

tags!!

@chuuya-brainrot @staraxiaa @catsoupki @hiraethwa @laughingfcx @akaakeis @kuroppiii @tulip-room @wyrcan @wishi-selfships @fiannee @bailey-reeds @zzwon

ok thank u for waiting n reading love u all see u soon bye bye

[are-we-really-doing-this]

Thanks to @kneepadthighhighs whose setup I'm totally jacking here, and thanks especially for all the Punk specific compilation DVDs.

I've finally ripped my current wrestling DVD/VHS/digital collection for your viewing pleasure, catalogue below cut. Collection will most likely continue to update, but there's never a guarantee it'll be up forever.

Link to Full Library

Last Update: 03/11/2025, 8:15:00 PM

I’ve linked the match cards (where applicable) so you can see if the file is worth the download. Links will take you to a folder and you may select files to download.

(If you open a folder and it includes a .MDS file, don’t worry about that as long as you’re not burning a dual layered physical disc. You don’t need it to view the .ISO file on a computer. Just download the .ISO and open with your media player of choice, it works like a DVD in a player. If it's an .MP4 or .MPG it'll play like a video.)

Come harass me if anything was mislabeled by accident or if a download link is broken or denies you access. I hope this goes to good use.

BYW

Best of Backyard Wrestling (Vol. 1, 2, and 3)

EPIC Pro Wrestling

Best of EPIC (Vol. 1)

FIP

FIP Emergence

Match Card - Day 1

Match Card - Day 2

FIP Fallout 2004

Match Card - Day 1

Match Card - Day 2

FIP Unfinished Business 2005

Match Card

FIP Dangerous Intentions 2005

Match Card

FIP With Malice

Match Card

FIP Violence is the Answer

Match Card

FIP In Full Force 2005

Match Card

FIP Unstoppable 2005

Match Card

FIP Sold Out

Match Card

FIP Payback

Match Card

FIP Heatstroke 2005

Match Card - Day 1

Match Card - Day 2

FIP The Best of CM Punk (Vol. 1 and 2)

IWA MS

IWA Mid-South From Hardcore Hell and Back (Punk's IWA debut)

Match Card

IWA Mid-South Sweet Science 16 2001

Match Card - Day 1

Match Card - Day 2

CM Punk vs. Colt Cabana (the camel toe pussy tights one)

ROH

ROH The Best of Samoa Joe

Samoa Joe Straight Shootin'

ROH The Best of the Second City Saints

ROH The Best of CM Punk (Vol. 1, 2, and 3)

ROH The Summer of Punk

Match Card

TNA

TNA The Best of Samoa Joe: Unstoppable

TNA Best of the X Division (Vol. 2)

Match Card

UPW

UPW Entertaintment Overload (Fresh Blood)

Match Card

UPW Road to Glory

UPW Future Shock

WWE

John Cena: Word Life

Match Card

John Cena: My Life

Match Card

CM Punk: Best in the World

Match Card

Zero-One (no subtitles)

Zero-One Shingeki

Match Card

Zero-One Fire Festival 2001

Match Card - Day 1

Match Card - Day 2

Match Card - Day 3

Zero-One Vast Energy 2002

Match Card

Zero-One Genesis 2002

Match Card - Day 1

Match Card - Day 2

Zero-One Truth Century Creation 2002

Match Card

[wrestlezon]

have you see this website? it looks like a useful resource if you want to look up some of the moves in a particular wrestler's repertoire, or if you dont know what theyre called

[dunmeshichilchuck]

For That One Guy on Tumblr part 10

Chilchuck x !fem !halffoot reader

TW: discussion of head injuries, concussion, blood.

You hit the ground with a *THUMP*, you and Chilchuck half cushioned by each other's bodies. Your head still ricochets off the floor with a *CRACK*. 

You wake up. Or maybe you were always awake. You don't know. You lay there for...a while. It's nice. It's comfy. There's no beaks and claws and wings. No falling. You feel pleasantly cushioned from whatever is happening, your head and ears ringing faintly. 

Some time passes. 

Slowly you become aware that there is...sticky liquid on you. A lot of sticky liquid. Huh. That doesn't feel nice. 

Oh. 

Fuck. 

Oh fuckohfuckohfuckohfuckohgodohno

You lurch to a semi sitting position and manage to slur out. 

"CHILCHUCK."

The room is dark and you can't see shit but he's still half wrapped around you, and he's. He's not cold at the least. There's that. You've been out for a while, right? He'd be cold, right? You know what a dead body feels like.

You frantically fumble around to find his neck and press your fingers to the thick vein running up the side of it. For a moment, you think there's nothing there, and then you feel the faintest flutter. 

He's alive. 

You breathe out in relief, no way you could rez him, and there's a solid chance you'll never see the party again. You wouldn't have been able to get him back to the surface before he rotted off the bone. A death now means a death for real. No taking it back. No tricksy magics. No second chances. 

Your still foggy brain scrambles around for a plan. You need to heal him. You have to heal him. But you can't see anything....

Light. You need light. But you can't leave him, and you'll need every ounce of magic you have in you for the healing. 

For the first time, you realize it's not *quite* fully pitch black. You can make out the dim outline of your hands. 

You glance around, each shift of your head bringing a new wave of pain. 

There's a thin crack of light a few feet away from you, off to your right. 

*Like an angel* you think, half delirious. 

You carefully extricate yourself from the heap of tangled limbs that is Chilchuck and crawl over to the door. Even concussed and in the dark, it's a matter of seconds to pick the flimsy lock. You almost feel a sense of professional scorn. You ease the door open, letting light spill into the room. 

It's empty, thankfully, just a standard store room or guard room or whatever it was supposed to be, not even any crates or barrels. Unfortunately it's empty of any holes in the wall that could have dumped you there as well. More labyrinth fuckery. 

The door opens into a hallway lit by torches, no movement or sounds there either. You only open the door enough to let what light you need in though, no sense in being stupid. 

You crawl back over to Chilchuck, not quite ready to test your balance yet.

He doesn't look good, sprawled limply out on the floor, breath shallow.

Automatically, you look him over and catalogue the injuries. To your relief, it's not as bad, or at least not as complicated, as you had initially feared. There's a lot of blood but the only obvious life threatening injury is the head wound he sustained from the hippogriff. Anything else will have to wait. 

You take a deep breath and lay your hands on his blood covered head. The words come slowly and haltingly, you wrestle them through the slow moving fog of your mind, but you get there in the end. 

The blood flows back and his eyes open, he sits straight up with a gasp. The backlash hits you at almost the same time, and you double over, making sure to vomit *away* from him. 

Through the spinning haze of mana sickness you see him glance around, take stock of his surroundings and you on the ground, and very calmly say. "What the fuck?"

And then you suppose you finally, mercifully, pass out. Letting the darkness and the spinning haze of colors take you at last. 

When you wake up you're surprisingly comfortable, you feel warm and groggy and your head is resting on something more comfortable than the hard stone floor, and you hear the crackle of a fire. For a very confusing half a second you wonder blearily if someone got a bed into the dungeon. Then you realize you're half draped over someone's lap, carefully arranged on your side.

Panicking slightly, you start to lever yourself up into a sitting position but a firm hand lands on your shoulder and stops you. 

"No. Give yourself a second." 

You relax. It's just Chilchuck. Thank fuck.

He sighs and says "You scared the shit out of me. Didn't know if you were going to wake up." 

You settle back down a little awkwardly. You groan a bit, your head spinning. "What happened?" 

"Whats the last thing you remember?" 

Chilchucks voice is soft, you can tell he's trying to be gentle and careful. Surprisingly considerate coming from him. 

You squint, pushing your aching brain back. "There was...a monster."

He makes a hum of agreement. "And then what?"

Still that same gentle tone. It's starting to freak you out a bit. He must've really been scared. The hand is still resting on your shoulder, whether for your comfort or his or because he hasn't noticed it's still there. Or perhaps because he thinks you're going to make a break for it. Whatever, you don't exactly mind it. 

"The....we fell down...something. there was..." 

You try to sit up again. "There was blood! Holy SHIT there was a lot of blood." 

His hand presses down again, arm coming around to gently press you back into him. "Easy! Easy. Everything's fine. We're all okay. I'm okay, you're okay."

You settle down again, head spinning from your sudden exertion. "Okay....now I think I remember. We landed in here. I healed you and then I passed out...yeah?" 

"Yeah. That was another stupid thing to do." 

There's no bite to his voice, he just sounds tired. 

You snort and then groan again as your head throbs. "You keep saying that."

"Yeah well make smarter decisions and I'll stop saying it."

Taglist, ask to tag:

@night-shadowblood-writes2

@thoughtfulbelieverstrawberry

@dunmeshimeshi

@leguink 

@gh0st-spider

@reh-llik

@sy1v30n

@qardasngan

@mshope16

@drowsydoggy

@anaxnee

@hopefully-not

@j4mergy

@alula394

@renjunluvr119

@lone-ray

@indigoghnights

@toshi-tori

[talas-first-lady]

Legends of Tomorrow as Smartypants Presentations

I have been working my way through the Dropout catalogue. This is Smartypants season 1 only so far.

Behrad: Which Cryptid is the Chillest to Blaze With?

Zari Tomaz: Vegetables Don't Exist

John: Wrestling is Drag

Gwyn: A Case for Eggs

Amaya: Does Music Sound the Same? (this one is all about how swing music needs a comeback)

Ava: How to Write Emails Like a White Lady

Nora: The United States Military Should Bomb the Moon

Gideon: God's Mistakes: How I Would Make Our Bodies Better

Nate: The Piano Teacher: A Groundhog Day Theory

Sara: The WNBA Is Better Than the NBA (mostly because it has lesbians)

Stein: No Thank You, "The Ocean"

Zari Tarazi: Should We Forgive Theater Kids?

Carter: Cicadas… and Why They Should Be the Symbol of the U.S.A.

Gary: Can I Get an Honorary Degree if I Just Ask Really Nicely?

Jax: The Past Few Presidents Have Ruined Movie Presidents

Snart: Zzyzx: All-American Scam

Astra: Morning People Are an Oppressive Class

Rip: The United States Government Should Build Me a Gundam

Charlie: We Need New Cuss Words

Spooner: Millenium Force: The Coaster Wars and the Pleasures of Regionalism

Wally: Michael Jordan Was a Good Baseball Player

Mona: Things I Saw White People Do on TV Shows That I Never Saw in Real Life as a Child

Kendra: God Is a Woman

Mick: An Extremely Objective And Defendable Tier List Of Charcuterie Board Elements

Ray: Birds: Why They Might Steal Your Girl

(Thanks to @gr3yskull for making me get Dropout and suggesting some of these matchups.)

[ya-bug-boy]

Heeey! You write Guzma x male reader?! And i have a request for that!

I was wondering if you can maybe write a meet cute scenario? Well mostly Guz just slowly falling in love with male reader who is a bug type user from a different region? Like he came on vacation to check out the bug types specifically. Reader is a cool adventurer, takes no shit, is a badass and a sweetheart. No nsfw just some fluff of Guz asking Reader out eventually? Or confessing his love before Reader leaves to go back home.

Bonus points if Reader has a Golisopod on his team too!

(I personally have an idea for a regional variant Golisopod that is a Bug/Ice type instead of a Bug/Water, because you guessed it…it’s more cold and meaner. Which means Reader had to wrestle and avoid ice beams from an angry Wimpod, the variant Golisopod is a bit bigger than an average Golisopod, jagged shell, more of a blue color instead of purple, has ice as its claws.) Of course you don’t have to add this part in. Or you can just go ahead and scrap this all together I ramble too much it’s just nice to talk about Pokemon and the men i simp for. 😅

Guzma x Male Bug Trainer Reader

Word got around the island that someone particularly interesting was coming to Alola. Hard to ignore that news when Kukui is repeatedly bombarding Guzma with that information to try and set them up together. The professor finally gets the former gangster's attention when he mentions you're an expert bug trainer and entomologist.

When you finally do arrive, you didn't have the appearance as some dorky lab scientist that Guzma had made up in his mind. You've got a Lara Croft outfit going on, except with a green and brown color aesthetic, equipped with a leather leg bag and utility belt, survival knife, everything a field researcher would need in addition to having a lab coat with the backside of a skeleton embroidered on the back, adorned with monstera leaves loosely draped on your shoulders like a battle jacket. Your grizzly charm with the scars to prove your worth and years of research can't help but to leave an impression on the man, especially given your sunny yet badass personality. That and it's hard to ignore your body.

Guzma was setting up in his head how he was gonna greet you, but you beat him to the punch when you walk right up to him and introduce yourself, saying that you've heard many good things from your professor associate. It makes him kinda fumble his words with how forward you are. The reason why you're here is to obviously catalogue the Alolan bug dex so Guzma takes it upon himself to personally show you around the islands.

Guzma can't recall how many years it's been since he's had this kind of unadulterated, innocent fun with someone. There's no money, booze, drugs, or crimes involved. You easily became someone that he admires and adores, your enthusiasm for bug types is somehow even higher than his.

When it came to battling you, you gave him a rush of adrenaline that hadn't been there since his late teenage years during his Alola trials. He thought his love for battling this intensely was peaked years ago but you manage to bring it back, making him strive ever harder to someday beat you. You had bug types that he's never seen before, making each battle between the two of you a mysterious matchup where he couldn't underestimate you even when the bugs had the same names. When he finally does beat you, the two of you celebrate his victories and he feels a sense of accomplishment, all of his friends looking at Guzma with pride in their eyes.

It had been years since Guzma felt so seen. You came to the islands without knowing of his childhood or his association with Team Skull and Aether Paradise. You immediately respected him as a fellow adult, gave him the friendship with another bug enthusiast he so desperately desired that also gives bug types the respect they also deserve, and just in general is amazing to be around. Despite your short time together, he even felt vulnerable enough to tell you about his rough past, initially hesitating that you might think dirty of him but you just give him the comfort and a friend he really needed. It's been years since he had a heart to heart talk with anyone and you basically did a speedrun that made him feel safe with you unintentionally but that's just because you're that kind of person, who makes other people feel protected, somehow doing all of this in under a week.

Guzma knows that if you leave without telling how he feels about you, he'll regret it more than anything he didn't do. He takes you the flower fields where the Cutieflies like to gather, having done his best to put together a picnic for you. The man isn't the greatest chef but he knows how to put together some bombass sandwiches and buys some convenience store drinks and snacks at least.

While the two of you are enjoying your time together, in a sea of yellow flowers, he watches Cutieflies gather around you, burning that image of you smiling softly at one perched on your fingertips before he tries to confess. He's never been the one to confess first before so it's difficult for him, but you rest your hand on his, smiling at him gently, and you two lock your hands together. Words don't need to be said when you can share a kiss instead.

[themoonweaversden]

Messeges that were found so far: STAN / STANLEY PINES / STAN PINES / STANLEY (spoilers)

This is just to collect all the codes that you can type in in thisisnotawebsitedotcom.com and their effects only (please click images for better quality)

Masterpost with all messeges / codes

You have to keep spamming it to get all of these links

Eventually you'll get this:

Transcript:

"WHEEL! OF! SHAME!

STEP RIGHT UP! It's time to play my FAVORITE GAME!! BOOTLEG SIXER over HERE spent a LIFETIME trying to hide his humiliations, BUT I'VE BEEN INSIDE HIS MIND, so NOW they're ALL YOURS for the low price of BEING MY NEW PAL! IT'S SHOWTIME FOLKS, AND THE ONLY WAY TO LOSE IS TO BE NAMED STANLEY PINES! CLICK BELOW TO SEE WHAT THIS MOUTH BREATHING CARNIVAL BAKER HAS BEEN KEEPING TO THE VEST ALL THESE YEARS. BROUGHT TO YOU BY: SHAME!

"SHAME:™ IT'S THE ONE FRIEND WHO NEVER LEAVES!"

EX-WIVES!

FEARS

SECRET SHAMES

UNREPORTED CRIMES

FAILED PRODUCTS

LOWEST MOMENTS

DARKEST THOUGHT

HOW HE BEAT ME"

If you click EX-WIVES

Transcript:

"EX-WIVES

Old Goldie Vegas wedding to a cursed gold-toothed antique.

Marilyn Fakenamé Vegas wedding to a cursed gold-toothed antique.

Brenda Chuggins Shack attraction for having "World's Biggest Thumb." (Carny Tip: Never date your own freaks. She used that thumb to hitch-hike off with Johnny Snakes 3 days later)

Sandra Sweetmeadow A kind beautiful Amish girl eho made Stan choose between her and his "sinful gold chains." He chose the chains.

Someone named "Burline" Stan has no idea who she is, but he found her wedding ring in the Shack Lost & Found, put it on, and it got stuck forever. Physically binding. Might be legally binding!

His childhood poster of "Attack of the 50 Foot Woman" (8 year old Stanley drew a ring on the poster and made Sixer witness.)

Natalia Annika Ömanövv Totally un-suspicious turist from a country that no longer legally exists. She took Stanley's creedit card and social security number while he was sleeping and still "checks in on him" via hidden cameras. Ah, love!"

If you click FEARS

Transcript:

"FEARS

The IRS Finding Out

Soos being the one to find Stan dead and taxidermying his body. (Soos would consider this an honor)

The cops calling Stan's fingertips "unusually little."

Betting Dipper in a poker game (and losing.)

Word getting out about Stan's little fingertips, people discovering that they're littler than Ford's.

Stan being dubbed "Baby-Fingers Pines" by the media and having to look into black market finger enlarging."

If you click SECRET SHAMES

Transcript:

"SECRET SHAMES

The time Wendy beat Stan in arm wrestling. 3 times in a row. She never has to work overtime as long as she never tells a soul.

The fact that no one came to his fake funeral except his mom and an IRS agent who whispered to the coffin "this isn't over."

The quick cash Stan made in 1975 posing for a "Hunky Drifters Catalogue" that wasn't as tasteful and classy as the job listing made it sound.

Was the baby mascot for the "Fussy Boy" Brand diaper rash commercials. (Claims that was Ford.)

Writing His Duchess Approves erotic fan-novel: "The Duke's Temptations at Oglebottom Estate.""

If you click UNREPORTED CRIMES

Transcript:

"UNREPORTED CRIMES

The time Stan hit Toby Determined with his car and just... kept driving.

Illegally breeding wolves to create a "super wolf." You should hear this thing howl.

Pretending to be a veteran to get a discount on PEZ, then having to invent an entire fake war in a fake country to keep the ruse going. Stan still has a "Remember Operation Enduring Excuse" bumper sticker, and regularly updates the Wikipedia page for the "People's Grepublic of Grunklestan."

Shooting out the tires of the Mythbusters Van after they axposing him for "looking kinda doughy" on tape.

Selling his heart medication to Children claiming it was "metal-flavored candy!"

Accidentally inhaling too much taxidermy glue, black out, and waking up to discover that he had somehow managed to rob himself. Still tracking down the lost boot buried by his arch-rival "Glue Stan""

If you click FAILED PRODUCTS

Transcript:

"STAN'S FAILED PRODUCTS

The "Wishy Washy!" - A washing machine that somehow makes your clothes dirtier.

The "Counter Fit!" - A rubber band you attach to your kitchen counter to exercise while doing dished. INJURY TOLL: 27

"Welcome to Gravity Town!" - A cartoon show pitch which was unanimously rejected by every network for "blatant Illuminati references."

"Flavored Lottery Tickets!" - Turns out that the kind of people who think they can win the lottery are the kind of people who ignore "do not swallow" instructions. LAWSUIT TOLL: 48

"THE SAD SHACK" - A burlap bag to cover your head so no one can see you rendomly crying during the day. Cheaper than therapy!

A soda called the "Drippy Stanley!" INGREDIENTS: Pine Sol, wood glue, & expired sun tan lotion. Soos tested it and now he can't remember the year 2000."

If you click LOWEST MOMENTS

Transcript:

"LOWEST MOMENTS

That time he somehow got an F- on a history test, which teachers thought was mathematically impossible. Filbrick made him stand on the lawn for two days holding a sign that said "Estra Stan, 3 dollars or better offer."

When "1998's Best Tourist Traps in Oregon" listed the "Mystery Shack" as #99 below "The world's bigest fence" and "the dog that might be thinking human thoughts."

His birthday the year before he met Dipper & Mabel. No one came to "Mr Mystery's Mystery-Age Party & Used Wolf Pet Sale" He'd spent hours writing comedy roasts of employees who never came, burned off one of his eyebrows attempting to make a cake, and drank the night away skeet shooting Sixer's old Beethoven Records.

The day after he met the twins, he overheard them debating whether they should escape out the window and report him to the FBI. Mabel shook a Magic 8-Ball and tey stayed.

Stripping for edible flour in Tijuana Please don't make me elaborate."

If you click DARKEST THOUGHT

Transcript:

"DARKEST THOUGHT

Pin all my crimes on Soos"

If you click HOW HE BEAT ME (You have to keep spamming)

Transcript:

"HOW STAN BEAT ME He didn't! IM STILL HERE, SUCKER!"

Transcript:

"HOW STAN BEAT ME LOOK the gambler got a lucky break, alright? A lifelong LOSER was due for ONE freak royal flush! What does it mean? NOTHING! LESS THAN NOTHING! NOT WORTH EVEN THINKING ABOUT!"

Transcript:

"HOW STAN BEAT ME WHAT MORE DO YOU WANT ME TO SAY? That a guy who once tried to EAT THE DECORATIVE POTPURRI out of the bowl in the bank OUTSMARTED ME?! PLEASE! Goofus was just following Gallant's LEAD! It was SIXER'S PLAN, PTSD BARNUM is just a side character, a resume-inflating, cheap trick loving, past-denying overgrown child protected from failure only by a force field of DENIAL AND shamelessness! Sixer ate Stanley's potential in the womb, and the only thing interesting that ever happened to him started when I entered HIS head! END OF STORY! PERIOD. And I have NOTHING MORE TO SAY ABOUT IT!!!!"

Transcript:

"HOW STAN BEAT ME ..."

Transcript:

"HOW STAN BEAT ME AND ANOTHER THING! Ever since that pathetic excuse for a 5-sensed three Dimensional one lifespanned skin-puppet was barfed into the universe, he was nothing but a carbon copy of a better genetic duplicate, and he knew it! A trillion years from now when I've broken out of this place nd taken over, he'll be remembered as the special bump under the cement truck of my inevitable triumph asterisk next to an asterisk next to an asterisk next to an asterisk who would be a joke if he was capable of understanding comedy whehich he OBVIOUSLY isn't, I mean, have you heard the hacky matreials he does on his tours, I've been inside his dreams, he WORKSHOPS that material, he PAVES over it, and the best he can do are some puns that would make a third grader cringe and vaudeville that were hack before they were even invented! Its an insult that showed to wear a suit and tie, he should be in a BARREL with SUSPENDERS!

HACK JOKES. CODEPENDENT. SELF-PITYING STUPID "FULLY CLOTHED WOMEN" COULDNT WIN LOCAL ELECTION SMUG SAS-CROTCH TACKY UNWORTHY CLICHE DREAMS "SINGIN' SALMON" AND THAT'S THE FINAL WORD!"

Transcript for this image in specific taken from this Google doc

Transcript:

"HOW STAN BEAT ME OKAY I SEE WHAT’S HAPPENING HERE! You’re just like those those PREACHY INFANTILZING AUTOMOTONS AT THETHERAPRISM who are SO OBSESSED with getting me to TALK about my “FEELINGS”. YOU THINK YOU CAN GET A RISE OUT OF ME?! TRY! I DARE YOU! I DARE YOU!”

Transcript:

"HOW STAN BEAT ME KEEP CLICKING! SEE WHAT HAPPENS! I CAN OUT-LAST YOU PAL! DO YOU REALIZE WHO YOU’RE STEPPING TO HERE?! IM LITERALLY INSANE! TRY IT! KEEP TRYING IT! I’VE GOT FOREVER, LET’S GO! COME ON! GO! KEEP CLICKING! KEEP DOING IT!”

Transcript:

"HOW STAN BEAT ME KEEP DOING IT!"

Transcript:

"HOW STAN BEAT ME I LOVE IT!"

Transcript:

"HOW STAN BEAT ME IS THAT ALL YOU GOT?!

⚠︎ FLASH WARNING FOR THE FILES BELLOW ⚠︎

Transcript:

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING TO ME?!"

Transcript:

"DO Y Ou even fAThoM ho W muCH pAIN IM"

Transcript:

"sOMeTIMES when i CLOSE my eyE i caN"

Transcript:

"I cAN STiLL sEe (encoded in alchemic sipher, author's cipher, theraprism and color cipher (in that order))"

Decoded messege: "The eyes of everyone I've ever"

(last three images)

[arcane-ish]

Plotbunnies aka "making the most of Viktors new ability"

Warwick/Viktor, Viktor/Silco: So my first plot bunny just Vander's point of view on the whole Viktor mindprobing him, being charmed by Viktor's goodness and wrestling with his own shame over his past or his urges.

Viktor/Silco, Vander/Silco: Second was Viktor digging deeper into Vander's mind and finding the darker more uncensored parts. Viktor "meeting" Silco in Vander's mind. Maybe Viktor flirting with young!Silco in the last Drop within Vander's mind palace. (maybe with a dash of Viktor wondering what Vander wants to tell him about Silco, if mind!Silco is so flirty).

Viktor/Silco, Viktor/Jinx: Spinning off from that: okay what other ways could Viktor have to encounter Silco? Maybe after seeing Silco in Vander's mind he wants another view and sees a different view on Silco in Jinx's mind?

Viktor/Jinx, Sisters: But then I decided Viktor wouldn't heal Jinx against her will. So next idea: Viktor offers to heal Jinx because he senses much pain but also much power in her. Jinx imo would say no. But still, lots of interesting ideas about it. Like would Vi get tempted to try and convince Jinx? Maybe the sisters debating whether they should let Viktor try to cure Isha's muteness?

Viktor/Jinx: Spinning off from that, story about Viktor wondering why The Arcane keeps urging him to try and heal Jinx. (imo Jinx has a special relationship with Hextech AND she's all shimmered up, so an "I want to suck everything in" Hexcore entity thingie would have double the reason to consume her.

Viktor/Silco + Singed: Another interesting "Viktor sees many different perpectives on Silco" point of view (on top of Vander and Jinx) would be Singed. But again, this would fall into Viktor wouldn't heal people against their will and Singed wouldn't say yes. But still, might be another interesting "temptation" type scene if Viktor would offer Singed to heal him over the pain of losing his daughter and the scars on his face. (I think Singed wouldn't say yes because I think in a weird way Singed is actually somewhat happy with his life and maybe like Silco about the The Betrayal thinks his daughter being his driving force is actually a good thing. That said, he might ask Viktor to heal Orianna instead and watch closely what that does).

Viktor/Silco + Singed. Wait, maybe Singed wants Viktor to heal Orianna, but he wants Viktor to guinea pig try it out on Silco instead?

spooky!Viktor + pairing of your choice: a more fucked up, unfeeling machine herald Viktor doesn't have this rule about not healing people against their wll anymore. So he just heals and mind invades people left and right, whether as part of a battle to take them over or almost accidentally by brushing against them. In that process he then sees the people and memories these people love the most (in my head this comes up mostly for the people who are resisting but I could do with Viktor just knowing all the loves and wants of everyone he has healed), but because he's unfeeling now, they don't mean anything to him, he's just neutrally cataloguing them. This could be done for any pairing of your choice, CaitVi (ie Viktor being at the most surprised about how much pain Cait is in about Vi), MelJay, JayVik (ie Viktor seeing how Jayce saw him and the moment Jayce fell in love with him), etc etc.

Porny VanderxSilcoxViktor (throw in Felicia if you feel like it): Viktor wandering through Vander's mind runs into a memory of Vander and Silco having sex (if you don't like, do Vander and Felicia or Vander/Silco/Felicia threesome) and because he's in Vander's mind he expreriences it from Vander's point of view and you can bring in that whole bit about how it is unfamiliar, that Viktor has never been in a certain position because of his leg. [the explanation here would be that with his normal healings, Viktor doesn't typically have to probe that deep, so he doesn't usually run into this problem]

Ekko&Viktor or maybe Timebomb: I think Ekko would be like Jinx and would never want Viktor to heal him no matter how unhappy he is. I think he'd be distrustful like Jinx (if there is a temptation then maybe one to ask Viktor whether he can heal the tree). So maybe a version where Ekko never went on his trip to Piltover and he is super weirded out by this new camp and he either teams up with Jinx to spy on it or he seeks it out to talk to Viktor and try to figure out whether Viktor is a good guy or a bad guy.

[toastedbarleytea]

Satoru and Sukuna fuck the way they fight. There is so much curiosity - so much novelty! - to it. A dance, a very mutual push and pull.

Naturally, power play is a regular occurrence. How could it not be, when you have two of the strongest beings in existence circling one another, with of all their pride?

But the mutual fascination remains, no matter how many times Sukuna pins Satoru down.

Sukuna loves forcing Satoru to stay *still* underneath him, to reduce the strongest of today to an incoherent, teary-eyed mess, to explore the contours of Satoru’s delicate face with his fingers, to feel the powerful lifeblood thrum of Satoru’s cursed energy, to watch Satoru’s bratty attitude disappear once Sukuna finds the subtle angle or spot that makes him go nonverbal, to explore the shades of blue in Satoru’s eyes, to wound and heal. To be surprised by Satoru, to Sukuna’s delight, over and over again.

Satoru, who has been reviled and relied upon for his ability alone, loves to be pinned underneath one of the few who could ever rival his power, to feel rough palms explore his overstimulated skin (he’s so sensitive, after spending years behind Infinity), to be blocked away from the sensory overload of the outside world and overwhelmed in equal measure, to be seen for who he is and not the role he plays to the outside world. To wrestle for control through exhilaration, exhaustion. To have his body’s weaknesses and desires catalogued and used against him with such ruthless efficiency, without the threat of death.

Ready to give one another everything.

[joelmillers-whore]

kry's fic catalogue

hello, and welcome to joelmillers-whore's blog. you can call me kry or joel's personal whore, either one is fine. i am here to be a slut, write about being slutty, and everything in between. you will find smut, fluff, and a lil bit of angst on the blog. all fics will be tagged and contain warnings, so please be sure to read them before you dive in. indulge, have fun, and be safe!

🍰 - fluff, 🐸 - smut, 🍇 - angst, 🥥 - hurt, 🌼 - comfort, 💀 - dark content

˖ . ☆ joel miller

╰┈➤ series

sweet as honey wine | dbf!joel x reader | 🐸💀 you've always had an inquisitive fascination with your dad's best friend and neighbour, joel miller. [on going]

╰┈➤ one-shots

i'll be here in the morning | joel miller x reader | 🐸🍰 after a heated argument, you try to go to sleep alone, but joel knows you can’t and he doesn’t like not sleeping next to you. he comes back and the next thing you know, the two of you can’t keep your hands off of each other.

choking hazard | dominant!joel x reader | 🐸 you’ve been waiting for joel all day, waiting for him to fuck you like he promised. but when he discovers that you’d gotten yourself off earlier, he makes you pay for being disobedient. 

the only thing i did right | friends to lovers | 🍰🍇🥥🌼 after a patrol gone wrong, joel races to get you back to jackson. while the doctor tries to save you, he wrestles with the guilt of letting you down.

i've got nothing left to hide | sequel to TOTIDR | 🍰 it has been a month since your injury, of taking it slow, and helping your father out more. and you’re sick of it. ever since you fully recovered you saw less and less of joel. actually, both miller brothers seem to be avoiding you and you’re determined to find out why. 

fuck me like you mean it | dbf!joel x reader | 🐸 a miserable time out at a club turns into quite the night when you run into someone you least expected to see. 

˖ . ☆ frankie morales

╰┈➤ one-shots

heaven and back | frankie morales x reader | 🐸 an object on your nightstand inspires frankie to experiment in the bedroom and you’re all for it. 

breathless | frankie morales x reader | 🐸 you are having a hard time focusing during sexy times with frankie, and he decides to try something to help you. 

couldn't help it | boyfriend!frankie x reader | 🍰 getting sick was not part of the plan and letting your boyfriend frankie take care of you while you’re sick was definitely not in that plan either. 

requests are open, feel free to drop me a line and i'll try my best to write you a lil something. check out my ao3 here!

[bigmilkagenda]

Of the many, many plates of pancakes* that were offered to the listener in magp 1-07, this one may be my favourite

[ID: A screenshot of an unofficial transcript to The Magnus Protocol. CELIA is saying "Yeah. I mean, it's an old system, but it could have been worse. It's not like we're wrestling with tape recorders and manila folders." /end ID]

When we meet TMA-Celia for the second time, she's lost her name. She was Lynne Hammond, and now she's not. She doesn't seem to remember Martin, either, but it's not clear how much of herself and her life from before the change she does remember. She's freaked out by the tape recorders that start showing up, and there's no indication that she associates them with the Institute specifically.

If Celia Ripley is, as we are clearly intended to believe or consider, the same Celia as in TMA, why is she making knowing comments about manila folders and tape recorders? Tape recorders in particular are hardly standard equipment at what seems to be mostly a text data-entry and cataloguing job. She could have said typewriters, or carbon paper. Fax machines, if we're dunking on Freddy specifically.

She says "tape recorders and manila folders." Celia Ripley is referencing The Magnus Institute, particularly the outdated technologies in use in the Archives.

Maybe she learned more from Melanie about what the recorders were and did at the Institute, sometime after MAG 190. Maybe she has those specific memories of giving her statement in MAG 100, and little else. Maybe Martin grew an apocalypse beard and she remembers everything, but just didn't recognise him out of context and in a tunnel and during A Pretty Weird Time Overall.

Maybe she stuck around with Melanie-Georgie-Basira for a while after things returned, and that's how she learned about the particular significance of tape recorders.

Maybe she found some tapes and listened to a couple hundred of them.

Or maybe she's simply an AU Celia, with a knack for oddly specific and kind of clunky comparisons, drawn into this through the powers of metafiction and string theory.

Or maybe someone filled her with spiders and sent her to finish the job of spreading Fear to this particular world.

And the reason this particular plate of textual pancakes** (short stack, butter and nightmare syrup) is one of my favourites from "Give and Take" is because I genuinely have no idea! None of these are theories because there isn't enough evidence to point me in any particular direction. It's a mystery!, Jon voice, etcetera.

If you cornered me and paid me to have an opinion about it I could say which options I thought were more likely, I guess. But the odds are high that I'd be wrong, and I think the boat for me getting paid to interpret texts probably sailed fifteen years ago, besides. I'm in this for the love of the game.***

November is the true spooky season in the northern hemisphere.**** Yeah, October ends with Halloween, but you know what month starts with Halloween? Mmhmm. By November of 2019 TMA had been on my list for a few years, and someone I was getting to know and really liked recommended it to me specifically in the days after 159 aired. The conditions were correct for me to get into something new, is what I'm saying. I still remember listening to "Anglerfish" for the first time, walking home from my office job in the blustery November dark. I got home starry-eyed and red-cheeked and thrilled by the story I'd just heard.

It took a couple of months for me to catch up, and though I loved having so much to listen to there were times when I wished I'd started earlier, to have the experience of seeing things unfold.

And now we're back at a beginning, and get to experience the horrible joys of finding out.

[ID: A screenshot of an unofficial transcript to The Magnus Protocol. LENA is saying "Of a sort. I hope you're as ready for it as you think you are. Consider yourself "in." /end ID]

*Sabrina pancake meme

** the best kind, especially if it's a contest between textual and fluffy pancakes. Keep those spongy bastards away from me, I'll take the kind with a typeface instead

***Being a huge nerd

**** For more of my opinions on November, see https://www.tumblr.com/almostmolly/188799234276

[girlfriendsofthegalaxy]

tuesday again 9/3/2024

having a lot of fun with toddler enrichment activities in this household, until we bit through the bag and the foil and the water and hated that experience

listening

fun citypop version of Good Luck Babe! by Amandumb and Sakura Wine, “ganbatte” scans to “good luck babe” SCARY well. this is both off a tiktok my best friend sent me and the spotify recommended weekly

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reading

quite frankly this makes me nervous and i am backing up my blogs as we speak. i sort of believe them when they say that we won't see a difference on the front end, but this is a HUGE migration. SOMETHING is going to go not perfectly.

William Greenleaf's TIME JUMPER (1980, 224p) and Joe Millard (my beloathed)'s Blood For A Dirty Dollar (1980 European reprint of a 1973 American book, 156p). thank you philip. time jumper is from a thrift store somewhere (possibly from the free book shelf at the umass engineering library) and the cowboy book is from ebay. they lied about the condition and the heavy smoke smell so i ended up getting it for free :) in no world is that a Very Good condition book!!!

time jumper! i do not think the back cover blurb (below) is very accurate.

COMBINED DESTINIES! One Earth of the far future, city dwellers live in a technologically advanced environment, while bands of nomads barbarically hunt and farm the plains. Hidden within the city is Erin, a crazed scientist, who is constructing a timejumper. On the plains is a nomad boy who quests after the city's secrets. Unknown to both, an evil force works to keep them apart, for it knows that if they ever meet, a new Earth destiny would be inevitable!

i looooove a bubble city. i love long lingering shots of technology and city-scapes and city politics. i would not call the nomads barbarians, bc they are a trading society who set up crop irrigation in their seasonal fields and have a giant traveling library with card catalogue. i would also not call Erin crazed or hidden, bc he is the richest man in the city. reclusive, yes. single-minded, yes. pretty sane though. he is a little person and i think the book handled this fairly deftly for 1980? most of his obstacles are physical and not societal. finally, the evil force is not working to keep them apart bc it doesn't even know about the outside kid. they mostly just want to stop anyone from leaving.

now that we know the back blurb is lies, what's the deal with this book? mostly wrestling with how automation leads to a loss of purpose and flattening of culture, breaking cycles, cyclical natures of histories thereof, and repeating old sins. however, one of the more frustrating endings ive ever read with the very last paragraph containing the suicide of a minor character. we simply didn't fucking need that last paragraph.

i found the dialogue a little bland but book overall quite evocative. it felt like a sixties scifi show constructed from castoff theater sets. it felt like this screenshot from rollerball. a lot of shapes. a lot of giant gardens. a lot of flattened textures.

i also liveblogged the cowboy book here. we've previosuly looked at the one with the balloon and the jailbreak but this is the one with the mad englishman and the imported castle and the missing scientists. i love a description of Legally Not Lee van Cleef Because We Don't Have A Royalty Agreement

-

watching

X-Men: First Class (2011, dir. Vaughn) was way more fun than i was expecting??? it's fun to watch these with my bestie's husband who is a fairly intense x-men fan and Will pause the movie for several minutes to explain why a specific character's death was fucking bullshit or answer one of my stupid costuming questions

-

playing

the new mesoamerican fire-aligned nation of Natlan is out in genshin impact! VERY beautiful region even though i think it is a crime, to me personally, to show me a village of observation balloons and then tell me i can't actually go there for six weeks until the next patch.

this is a little bit more of a frustrating experience bc my tolerance for the least little thing going wrong is at record lows. once you hit 100% on a map region it feels more like a true 100% ing the area, which is a little scary bc this usually means you have anywhere from 10-20% more Stuff to do and find and collect. one quest is straight up bugged for me (very unusual) and i cannot get a specific mechanic (the yunkasaur, the little green pokemon lookin motherfucker above, flame spitting) to fire with any sort of accuracy. why have a sight and a center pip if you CANNOT aim it.

some parts of the map look a little more seussical than others.

to whoever made sure this observation balloon lined up with the window when you entered this waypoint building, i see you. thank you.

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making

fallow week.