#so i thought i gotta start writing stuff for femmes!!

[movedtodykedvonte]

Started reading your fiction the other day (because like you I too gave been consumed by the silly little puppet man) and I just gotta say... 1, loving it. It pulls at my heartstrings in just the right way. However 2, I keep envisioning your Addisons looking like mine (that don't even have set names yet. I'm waiting on some polls)

I know the shouldn't look like mine (or not exactly. All of us are just interpreting the same 4 sprites anyway so like...) but like, rn I'm reading chapter 7 and I keep on seeing Audi looking like Cache/Survey (the two names being considered for my orange Addison). I know he shouldn't, however its driving me insane. So my question is, do you have any drawings or your Addisons? Maybe just some detailled descriptions? All I know is they have fur/fluff. The main thing with this is the clothing/hair. Cache/Survey has like, a bit more of a feminine look (even though they use all pronouns) and has a headband and wears like a vest like think over her dark shirt.

Idk. This is probably really silly but thought I'd ask. Anyways, back to reading.

I do sorta…It’s just vague outlines I did for body shapes and tid bits if they were humans but the body shape still applies to the ads, tho they would have the typical ad nose. Then art of Audi by @genderqueer-spamton which is pretty accurate on clothing range (still before bodies/other features are determined) (Link) (link)

In general I see both Audi and Banner as somewhat androgynous in physical appearance, style wise Banner dressing in a more neutral and academic way and neutral overall while Audi is more rustic/retro and experimental shifting between masc and femme (mostly masc tho). Surv dresses like ur typical gym bro and like casual dude, think jeans or sweats and a shirt that could be styled to meet as uniform requirements. Vidie looks more feminine physically and dresses up but it fluxes between something strictly masculine or feminine, very much street wear and Y2K stuff, with a bit of punk thrown in. Spam’s just casual kinda like Surv but with a hint of 90s flare. I never really think to describe their outfits cause I imagine they change day to day as I picture their uniforms aren’t their only outfits.

Hair and stuff I suppose it would be in the general shape of the ads hair/ head shapes in game. Banner has more curly hair, a weird mix of a bob and a curly/bouncy wolf cut, some how professional. Surv is tricky in that it’s course but shaped like in canon, I can’t really decide or describe how I see it but it fits. Vidie has a high pony tail and has wavier/thicker hair, blunt or wispy bangs when it’s not down/specifically styled. In that case she goes for curtains. Audi has corset hair he accessorizes with clips and beads and wraps or hats or whatever. Generally it just keeps its hair looking nice but it’s a day by day case. Spam has his signature weird pompadour mullet that he does very little with, it’s just naturally easy to keep neat. Thick hair but in a helmet way. Hair types usually match to the way their fur lays/feels on their body.

As for stuff on the ads as a species in general i guess the fur works in the way where the volume varies for ads but it never like super long just dense. It fades a bit around their hands which are just skin/palm textured. It also feels more staticy to lightener than soft but biologically it’s supposed to appeal to some cute/comfort thing in customers so they buy more (think seeing a fluffy dog ig). It sorta goes flat on their faces/necks or stop/stocks at the chest like chest hair to make a clear distinction of neck/face to body, hence hair vs fur. I do think they have tails but that part ain’t too important cause I don’t really write about their asses in this fic atleast and they aren’t made noticeable usually due to my ad’s cultural. They don’t have irises or the whites just pupils so they are very sensitive to sudden shifts in light.

Also don’t feel silly! I love hearing peoples interpretations of my ads, especially since it’s based around how I solely write their personalities. Even if it doesn’t match up it’s fun to hear! Also happy reading!!!

#I default to my ads if I know the ads I’m reading don’t have and appearance #otherwise I just try to form something off what has been described to me but I just realized I don’t describe my ads past their heights #by the way if I hadn’t mentioned it it goes Surv Vidie Audi banner then spam #ask #utdr #the addisons #deltarune #spamton #CDAP au #atdffpetra

[thedevotionaltour]

i have so many comic ideas i have to pursue so genuinely i just gotta start jotting shit down that i've thought about but never put anywhere concrete so i can remember them. last month i had a really fun at least to me i wanted to do an end of the world comic. what would you do if you knew for certain you only had about a month left on earth and i wanted it to have two primary storylines to follow of one of two friends meeting and deciding to spend their last weeks together and then one of a single father at like. 20 with his daughter and following him around. i wanna return to the idea i had in high school where i wanted to write about characters who need to escape in some form get sent to another world (typically due to fatal incidents but the universe has decided it isn't time) but take on different appearances when doing so that was meant to be a way of discussing and dealing with my mental illness. i wanna write my never let me down again inspired comic of two boys going on a route 66 road trip but the beginning starts with the car crash they get into and then goes back to bring us to that point in the story. i wanna write about xel and how she gets stuck with her inability to die and continues to ruin her own life until she realizes she can't escape and has to deal with what's around her and own up to both stuff she's done and acknowledge things that were out of her control that happened to her and hurt her. i want to write about a woman who eats every part of her boyfriend who died. i want to write about a lawyer who has to take on the case of a necrophiliac and when he tells his wife about the case his wife becomes obsessed with death. i want to write about two high school girls discovering a corpse and having to keep it a secret together. i wanna write about the sunshine clinic. i want to write lesbian erotica. i want to write about a vibrant party girl femme trying to live an exciting life who falls in love with a shy, bookish, inexperienced butch in a vaguely 90s/00s aesthetic setting but no actual declared time frame so i can mess around with what i want and what i know. i want to write about leatherette who explores identity and choosing to become who we are as opposed to letting our conditions be the pure dictating and determining factor as to what happens and striving to become who we want to be. i want to write about two soulmates finding each other through every lifetime and at the end we see them fusing in a beautiful burst of light as we see them flash through every life they have had together. i wanna write about the little boy who takes care of the even younger alien who crash landed to earth because my dad loved the design i drew when i was in middle school and told me i should use it for a story one day. i want to write everything ever about xiu and how she has to save herself while still trying to save the city that's destroying her. i wanna make my stories real so desperately and i have to i absolutely have to. i can't live my life without making sure they all become real in some form or else i will have wasted my entire existence. i have to make them so i can live my life to its fullest because what is the point otherwise!!!!

#static.soundz

[absolutebl]

This Week in BL

May 2021 Wk 3

Being a highly subjective assessment of one tiny corner of the interwebs.

It’s a cray cray Friday when Vietnam gets its eng subs up before GMMTV Thailand. What alter-reality are we in? Well, the Vietnamese offerings are better right now anyway. (Oooo, feel that burn.) 

Ongoing Series - Thai

Top Secret Together Ep 2 - pulping it up in the best possible way. Sure sound and production values are pants, and in classic Thai fashion the editing in post is exacerbating (rather than fixing) pacing issues, but it’s still CUTE AF. I don’t even mind the added university storyline, because they’ve got good chemistry (and a confident gay fresher after a panicked gay hazer is an old favorite... what can I say, SOTUS was my first love). We aren’t spending too much time with any one couple, so it’s weighted a lot better than Brothers was, but also character development is slow. 

Siew Sum Noi Ep 2 - Unfortunately, it’s just too hard to find, plus no subs. I’m dropping it in the hopes it comes back on my radar some day. 

Y-Destiny Ep 8 - (Thurs) It’s rough having a ghost boyfriend, half your friends are scared, the other half think you’re crazy, and kissing shortens your lifespan. This was a cute couple even if I wasn’t wild about the surrounding story. 

Close Friend Ep 5: (Dear My Star/JimmyTommy) - about high school penpals. It had to rely entirely on voice over work as the actors only meet face to face at the end. It’s a good thing they are appealing screen presences on their own, with good vocal control. It’s hard to imagine any other BL pair carrying this kinda plot. It’s by far my favorite of the series so far, and I’m not even a big JimmyTommy fan. 

Fish Upon The Sky Ep 7 - no subs. Do we care? Not really. Because we have... 

Nitiman Ep 3 - currently my favorite out of Thailand. It’s the university Thai BL i’ve been waiting for since... when was the last good one? My Engineer? Yowza. Anyway we got: head on my shoulder, baby is a floppy drunk (but still wants to be in control), proximity alert, boyfriend’s closet, seme gets seriously jelly, and a cute twist on feeding him. There’s something fun and complex about Jin’s character. He’s not a panicked bi. He knows exactly what’s going on, he just hasn’t decided if he wants Bb or not. He clearly enjoys being looked after, the compliments, and the attention, but he’s not sure if he’s going to like what happens if he gives in. I like that twist on the usual tsundere uke archetype a lot, cautious rather than willfully obtuse or freaked out. We can see Jin realizing in stages: I like this person, I like that they like me, I like the romantic attentiveness. But in the background is... do I actually want to f*k him? It’s a dynamic we don’t often see on BL. 

Ongoing Series - Not Thai

HIStory 4: Close To You (Taiwan) Ep 10 fin - the most ridiculous show using BLs worst tropes in a sort of weird smoothie of bitter greens and too ripe banana. The ending was the sappiest cheesiest thing ever, like cheese syrup tapped from the cheese tree. So of course I loved it, but I’m pretty sure I giggled through all the bits meant to be profound. Because, in the end, to tolerate this show at all, you just can’t take ANY of it seriously. RECOMMENDED (with some SERIOUS reservations and trigger warnings.) Full review here. 

Be Loved in House: I Do (Taiwan) Ep 1-2 - I don’t mind a damaged seme character but this one is a bit weird for me. Like creepy Cheese in the Trap level weird. On the bright side, the story has given our tsundere uke good motivation for his angst and great existing friendships, loyalty, and likability. Plus I’m invested in the cafe owner/innocent puppy side dishes. So if it’s only the seme character I’m not jiving with, and he’s the most established actor, it should all turn out fine. I believe in you, Taiwanese BL. 

Papa & Daddy (Taiwan) Ep 6 fin - speaking of belief. This such a good show but they gave us a cliffhanger ending. Now we must hope against hope for season two. That’s never guaranteed with Taiwan tho. So, I’m docking a few points and saying, RECOMMENDED so long as you realize it’s a cliffhanger. 

Love is Science? (Taiwan) Ep 1-9 (BL subplot) - this is a good het romance, but the fact that the BL subplot is a beautifully acted disaster bi + confident gay means you’re hearing about it whether you want to or not. Plus they just added in some GL! Come on! I gotta support Taiwan normalizing queer to this extent. They are fighting the good fight and if I also have to watch a career lady and her much younger softest straight boi get it on, too? Twist my arm with that service sub subtext. Go on Taiwan, TWIST IT. It’s on Viki. Join the revolution.   * Incidentally if you actually like the D/s het dynamic of this show, I highly recommend Japanese Kimi wa Petto - career woman keeps a hot young dancer boy as a pet. Oh yes, an actual pet, that IS the pitch. Never doubt Japan when kink is on the line. It’s also on Viki. Go get your kink on, thank me later. (If it helps: That was not a request.)  

Most Peaceful Place 2 (Vietnam) Ep 2 (AKA 5) - love triangles aren’t my thing, but if you’re gonna do it short form, by all means bring in the lead’s other BL pairing so the chemistry is on point. Now I've no idea who I want him to end up with. Can’t they just be in a poly triad? 

My Lascivious Boss (Vietnam) Ep 7 - I’m still enjoying it a lot. It’s still unabashedly queer and the tension is ramping up. We now have secret identity, blackmail, femme fatale, faen fatale, and incoming seme confrontation. Best of all, the series is still airing, which makes it longer than any other Vietnamese BL I’ve seen (aside from Tein Bromance - which is just too weird to count). 

Gossip - Thai BL 

SEVEN PROJECT TEASERS

No one is entirely sure what Studio Wabi Sabi’s Seven Project/7Project will entail. 

It might be like Close Friend (1 episode per couple, no linking), 

or Y-Destiny (2 episodes per couple, loosely linked), 

or The En of Love (4 episodes per couple, linked but independent consecutive stories). 

They’re giving the couple’s arcs separate titles. So each one would be what? Seven Project: Once Upon a Time or the like? We’re in Taiwanese title territory people and NO ONE WANTS TO GO THERE. Anygay... 

Once Upon a Time is the BounPrem (og UWMA) anchor story, and seems to be the most dramatic and likely saddest. These two can handle most of what’s thrown at them at this juncture, so it should be good. 

Vs Love is a BoomPeak (og Make it Right) university vehicle. Since I thought Boom was done with our nonsense, I couldn’t be more thrilled and surprised this pair is doing another show together. I don’t think either of them are the greatest actors but I find Peak very endearing and Boom charismatic on screen, so I’ll watch. 

Would You be My Love is the hotly anticipated SantaEarth launch. They’re a (cultivated) IRL ship and Earth is an established BL actor. They have great chemistry and high energy so this could be lots of fun. 

We are also getting a GL from this series from established BL actresses Samantha and Pineare. Nothing teased yet on that, but I’m looking forward to this installment the most. Also curious to see how the ladies handle the branding and promo side, not to mention the culture. (Thailand variety shows gonna force *girls* to play the Pepero game?) 

Secret Crush on You upcoming Thai BL with no release date, co-produced by and featuring (but NOT staring) Saint and directed by Cheewin (sigh) with all fresh faces. (Previously known as Stalker the series.) It looks like pure pulp and I’m not wild about the plot but could be better than expected as it’s adapted from a novel. Cheewin is an okay director when he has an actual story to follow. 

Don’t Say No the series. Coming from the producers of TharnType this is the JaFirst vehicle many have been waiting for. Friends to lovers + a good boy/bad boy pairing on a sports romance foundation. It’s basketball so they tapped Meen as well (he’s semi-pro). The bad news? You get one guess as to who is writing the darn thing? Yep it’s MAME. So, ya know, expect some slam dunk kidnapping, a light dribbling of rape, and me turning into a basketcase. AKA... 

Will I have to live blog this series in order to survive it? That seems to be the only way I can. So probably. Which means the bad sports puns will continue. Look, if I’m suffering, SO ARE YOU! 

Rumors of a new YinWar vehicle The Best Story (mini series) coming in July. Also rumors that their previously announced Love Mechanics (full length series) has either been delayed, is facing money issues, or is moving studios, or all three. 

Breaking News 

DELAYED (I’m talking these three off the watch list until we get new airing dates) 

Love Area’s release was pushed out but it got a trailer. 

Golden Blood was supposed to drop Weds but comments in MDL report that it is delayed due to C19.  

Love’s Outlet (Taiwan) is supposed to have started a 50 episode run (only 3-5 min each, what utter nonsense). Sadly, this delay is due to a surge in cases in Taiwan which was doing so well, but also doesn’t have many inoculations. 

Bad Buddy has started workshopping at GMMTV actual. 

Kang Insoo’s BTS for Nobleman Ryu’s Wedding is SO FLIPPING CUTE. You have to watch it. Trust me, I don’t rec behind the scenes stuff often. 

Next Week Looks Like This: 

Some shows may be listed later than actual air date for International accessibility reasons.

Upcoming 2021 BL master post here.

Links to watch are provided when possible, ask in a comment if I missed something.

#thai bl #thaibl #asian bl #asian drama #y-destiny #close friend the series #Fish Upon The Sky #gmmtv #Nitiman #Top Secret Together #Golden Blood #Love Area #HIStory 4: Close To You #Taiwanese bl #taiwanese drama #Papa & Daddy #Be Loved In House: I Do #Love Outlet #Most Peaceful Place #Vietnamese BL #My Lascivious Boss #love is science? #Secret Crush on You #The Best Story #Love Mechanics #YinWar #seven project #7project #studio wabi sabi #be loved in house

[yikesharringrove]

So, I had this idea, but I'm not really good with writing Harringrove, so I thought I could share it with u. A modern au where Steve nd Billy are streamers in L.A. Like, maybe Billys a gaming streamer nd Steve is a v chill streamer nd basically half of their live streams consist of Steve sitting in Billys lap nd the two of them cuddling while just talking nd one day they get a donation question like, "Are the two of u dating wtf" nd they just go "duh" also. femme/nonbinary steve

I love the idea of Steve being jenna marbles-esque, just like sweet and kinda weird and super loved.

And y’all know my love for nb Steve.

Based loosely on this post. Mainly just the gif.

Watch me make up twitter handles lol

This is v soft and includes many of my headcanons for these two living their lovely modern lives.

-

“Bill!”

Steve was yowling like a damn cat out in the kitchen, interrupting Billy’s stream. “Billy!”

“Stevie! I’m streamin’, Baby!” Hear could hear Steve’s feet plodding down the hall. The chat started going crazy as they appeared in the stream behind Billy, wearing a too-big sweater, thick wool socks on those perpetually cold little feet. Their hair was a fucking mess, and they were wearing their glasses, the big ones Billy loved.

They climbed on Billy’s lap, settling their face into his neck.

“What’s up?”

“Just wanted some lovin’.” Steve’s voice was soft, but they always put their face on the side Billy’s headset mic was on and the audience would go wild over the quiet things they said. Billy rubbed their back before going back to his game.

“Everyone welcome Stevie to the stream.”

He kept playing as usual, Steve a warm little puddle in his lap.

“Okay, Babes. I’m signing off for today, Steve is definitely asleep on me right now and I gotta put them to bed. Love you all, stay safe.” He had to awkwardly shuffle Steve around in his lap to turn off the stream, picking them up to take them to the room across the hall.

They had gotten a two bedroom when they were still friends, pretending they weren’t fucking in love with each other. They had moved into the bedroom formerly known as Steve’s, setting up Billy’s old room for streaming and video editing.

Steve snuffled as Billy took off their glasses, sliding into bed behind them.

-

Steve was sitting on the floor, laughing at the monitor.

They had been doing a series of Quarantine Madness videos, doing crafts and silly makeup tutorials.

They were currently trying temporary hairdye, had their hair sticking up in all directions.

“This is so fucking stupid, oh my god.” They had electric pink in their hair, Billy had gotten roped into it with dark blue.

“If you destroy my hair for YouTube hits, I’m gonna cry.” Steve had their thin fingers in his hair, rubbing the dye in.

“Oh, worse comes to worse you get ridda that fucking mullet.”

“You love this mullet. It’s my trademark.” Billy’s hair wasn’t supposed to be a mullet, was originally a shag that had grown in weird, but Billy had become known for it, and he had kinda grown to like it.

“The whole premise of this video is to get you to shave your head.” Billy laughed. “Okay, so we gotta wait like twenty minutes and then we gotta wash it out.” They looked at memes while they waited, figured Steve would edit all this waiting out of the video anyway.

They washed the dye out in the sink, scrubbing at one another’s heads before getting in the shower to clean off the patches on their skin.

They ended up getting a little distracted in the shower.

Steve had blow dried both their hair to see the color. The pink was subtle in Steve’s dark hair, the highlights they had gotten a few weeks before quarantine picking up more of the color.

Billy’s hair was bright fucking blue, and neither of them could stop laughing at it.

“I kinda, kinda love it on you, Bill.” Steve was brushing their fingers through Billy’s hair, making him lean into the touch like a damn cat.

The video ended up being wildly popular.

-

“So, you all tweeted us some questions, and we’re gonna answer them over live stream. We each picked a bunch to pose to one another, so yeah.” Steve shrugged. “Billy, @.DustinHendy wants to know why you’re such a little bitch.” Billy cackled, planting his face into Steve’s shoulder.

“Tell Dustin he’s a little garbage human.” Billy winked at the camera, making the comments along the side of the screen go crazy. “Um, I thought this question was interesting, @.llittlebug says: you two are so touchy. Are you together, or are you just close friends? We’re gal pals, actually.” Steve laughed, loud and bright.

“Two bros chillin’ in the hot tub, five feet apart ‘cause we’re not gay.” Steve sang, making them both crack up.

“Yeah, we’re very much in a relationship, have been for four years now.” Steve was giving him that soft smile Billy loved so much. He leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to that sweet little mouth. The chat was going insane, people sending comments along the lines of I knew it! and so happy for you both!

Steve’s cheeks were flushed.

“So, uh @.bigyikes asks, how did you two meet? Well actually, we went to high school together, and fucking hated each other when we first met, got in a big fight, worked our shit out became friends, moved in together, and fell in love like big dumb losers.”

“So bold of you to claim I ever hated you. I literally was fucking in love with them from the first time I ever saw them but I was, uh, going through a lot, and was kind of the worst back then.” Steve’s arm was on his shoulder, playing with the long hair by his neck.

“You’ve gotten so much better. And I’m proud of you.” Billy planted a kiss to their forehead.

“Next question before I fucking cry, @.imaloser wants to know our sexualities and gender expressions. I mean, you’ve been plenty open about all that.”

“Well, yeah. I’m pansexual and agender, which is under the nonbinary umbrella, but I like to typically present femme. And I use they pronouns, most of you know that, of course. I’m pretty open.” They turned big eyes on Billy.

“These days, I just identify as queer. I’ve always identified as a gay man, but I haven’t dated a guy in a long fuckin’ time.” Steve curled into his side.

“It’s been a learning process for both of us. I mean Billy’s the first person I dated seriously after I came out, and there was just a part of me that felt lowkey misgendered every time he said he was gay.”

“Oh, there was a lot of learning in those early days for sure. And I think we’re both still doing that. I hope I am.” Steve poked his stomach.

“You’re good to me, Bill.” There was a slew of sweet comments in the live stream.

“@.folks asks when did you get into makeup?” He turned to Steve.

“Growing up, most of my friends were girls, and I just always loved playing dress up, and getting make overs. When I was like, fourteen I think, I started playing with makeup myself, learning from YouTube tutorials, and just like, messing around with stuff. I always loved just feeling really pretty, so that’s why-” they gestured at themself, one of Billy’s shirts tucked into old worn out jeans, soft white cardigan. They had put on a full face of makeup for the stream.

“I think you’re the prettiest.” Steve laughed, headbutting Billy’s shoulder.

“Okay, so @.imstruggling wants to know who’s a better cook.” Steve turned dramatically to the camera. “Me, bitch!”

#yikes writes #harringrove #modern harringrove #steve harrington #billy hargrove #steve harrington x billy hargrove #billy hargrove x steve harrington #harringrove fic #harringrove ficlet #harringrove drabble #nonbinary steve harrington #nonbinary!steve #modern au

[fromtheringapron]

WWE WrestleMania XXVI

Date: March 28, 2010.

Location: University of Phoenix Stadium in Glendale, Arizona. 

Attendance: 72,219.

Commentary: Michael Cole, Jerry Lawler, and Matt Striker. 

Results:

1. WWE Unified Tag Team Championship Match: ShoMiz (The Miz and Big Show) (champions) defeated R-Truth and John Morrison 

2. Triple Threat Match: Randy Orton defeated Cody Rhodes and Ted DiBiase Jr. 

3. Money in the Bank Ladder Match: Jack Swagger defeated Christian, Drew McIntyre, Dolph Ziggler, Evan Bourne, Kofi Kingston, Kane, Montel Vontavious Porter, Matt Hardy, and Shelton Benjamin. 

4. Triple H defeated Sheamus. 

5. Rey Mysterio defeated CM Punk (with Serena and Luke Gallows).

6. No Holds Barred Lumberjack Match: Bret Hart defeated Vince McMahon. Bruce Hart was the special guest referee.

7. WWE World Heavyweight Championship Match: Chris Jericho (champion) defeated Edge. 

8. Layla, Alicia Fox, Maryse, Michelle McCool, and Vickie Guerrero defeated Kelly Kelly, Beth Phoenix, Mickie James, Gail Kim, and Eve Torres. 

9. WWE Championship Match: John Cena defeated Batista (champion) to win the title. 

10. No Disqualification Career vs. Streak Match: The Undertaker defeated Shawn Michaels. Per stipulation, Michaels retired.

My Review

WreslteMania XXVI is a difficult show to sum up. It’s a pretty good WrestleMania, but also one that happens to be all over the place in tone and focus. Perhaps its reflective of how indeterminate the future of the WWE felt at the start of the 2010s. The roster was such a mishmash of eras that you’d be forgiven of not having a clue where the hell the company was going. John Cena, Batista, and Randy Orton were at the top of the card after their rise to superstardom in the 2000s, but the spotlight was still shared guys who rose to stardom in the ‘90s like Triple H and The Undertaker. Then there was a new generation of talent—The Miz, Sheamus, Drew McIntyre, etc. — bubbling in the undercard who seemed poised to rocket into the top at any moment. But wait! Time was also given to  . . . the 13-year-old feud between Bret Hart and Vince McMahon?!? Suffice to say, with the show splintering off in so many different directions, it’s not surprising it has some misfires.

Let’s start with the good stuff, though. The main event between Undertaker and Shawn Michaels is fantastic and I’m gonna throw it out there that I like it more than their match from the previous year. The stakes feel higher, the suspense level feels higher, and there’s more of a story here than just Shawn needing to beat Taker. He puts his entire career is on the line here, for heaven’s sake! And speaking of his career, like many at the time, I didn’t have a clue this would be Shawn’s last match. Most on-screen wrestling retirements are never legit, so there was plenty of basis to believe this one would be no different. But alas, this one was different, and we get about as good a sendoff as we could’ve gotten for someone who’s been dubbed Mr. WrestleMania.

On another show, the WWE title match between John Cena and Batista would’ve been the main event. Their match here is great fun. It’s actually an end of an era for the two men who were crowned as the leaders of the next generation at WrestleMania five years earlier. Batista would move on to Hollywood shortly after this and, while certainly not his last WWE run, it would mark the end of his career as a full-timer. Interestingly enough, Batista was really coming into his own as a heel at the time of his departure, even winning over fans who previously couldn’t stand him. He would resurrect his heel run in 2014 and 2019, again only for a short spell. A shame we haven’t been able to spend much time with arrogant heel ‘Tista and his impeccable designer fashion, but then I guess that’s what makes it so special.

As for what doesn’t work, I probably don’t need to go into much detail about the Bret/McMahon clash. The basics of the story are solid — Bret gets his long-awaited revenge on McMahon, with his family right by his side. It’s just not super fun to watch in execution, however well-meaning it may be. They match is dragged out much longer than it should and it takes the crowd completely out of it. Another misfire is the Money in the Bank match. This would be the final iteration of the match at WrestleMania before it becomes its own pay-per-view. It’s clear the concept needs some rejuvenation by this point as it’s now a lazy, bloated affair where everyone gets in their allotted number of spots and there are way too many participants. To cap it all off, the ill-advised decision is made to push Jack Swagger into the main event scene, an idea which would run out of gas in a matter of months.

The show seems to have some weird pacing issues as well. In the era of the Network, I’ve grown so accustom to Manias being stretched to the point of exhaustion, so it’s always little odd to go back and watch one that feels like it doesn’t have enough time. It’s almost like it’s struggling to figure out how spread out time across a card so stacked. The tag opener and Rey Mysterio vs. CM Punk feel like abridged versions of the matches we would’ve otherwise gotten, while Bret vs. McMahon gets more time than either combined. Even Money in the Bank feels somewhat rushed. I’m definitely not a huge fan of WrestleMania becoming a seven-hour event, and WWE has proven they struggle with time management on longer Manias, but this is one show where it seems an extra hour absolutely would’ve been to its benefit.

At its best, WrestleMania XXVI is a nice sampler plate of eras, even if struggles to give you equal portions for all of them. The multi-generational makeup of the card ensures there’s a little something for everyone and even closes the books on a couple of legendary careers. You’re bound to dislike some it but for better or worse, and this is a cheeseball thing to say, it definitely puts the “showcase” in the Showcase of the Immortals.

My Random Notes

No joke, I really did not think this would be it for HBK and even seriously thought Taker’s streak was in jeopardy. Am I a fool for thinking that? Maybe, but I like that wrestling conned into believing it in a way it hardly ever does anymore.

I feel like the temple entrance set is something that should’ve been more impressive than it is in actuality. They just stacked LED screens on top of each other and just rolled with it. It looks like something from Minecraft.

Ah, this show reinvigorates my fond feelings for Matt Striker. Such a handsome chap! Not surprising at all he would appear on a Bachelor ripoff a whole decade later.

I chuckled at Bruce Hart being the special guest referee for Bret vs. McMahon. You just know he huffed and puffed his way into that one, much to Bret’s annoyance.

I also chuckled at Diana Hart-Smith walking down to the ring with her best “evil, vindictive femme fatale on the cover of a pulp novel” look. God bless her. She needs to write another book.

I know Rey singing Happy Birthday to his daughter is meant to be a heart-warming thing but if I were a kid in the same situation, I would be traumatized. Just think of how uncomfortable it is when a room full of people is signing at you and then think of enduring that in an arena filled with thousands of people. CM Punk did her a huge favor by crashing the moment, as far as I’m concerned.

Not saying anything new here, but the whole Spear thing with Edge is cringe as hell and it’s for the best that it’s been forgotten in the annals of his career.

I know some people like to mock Vickie Guerrero doing Eddie’s frog splash, but I personally thought it was a sweet moment while staying true to comedically heel Vickie.

The official theme song to this Mania is “I Made It” by Kevin Rudolf. A time-period appropriate choice, I must say. I feel like the dawn of the 2010s is the only time a Kevin Rudolf could be a success.

I identify myself as someone who will always be more embarrassed by John Cena haters than Cena himself and I gotta say him posing next to the guys in the front row hating his guts is fucking hilarious. Cena is funny sometimes when he just straight-up trolls.

On the Legacy fallout: The storytelling for this was weird as hell. Am I the only who remembers that one time on Raw where they teased Ted turning face and the crowd was actually kinda into it? Then they completely abandoned it for whatever reason and just had Randy be the breakout face (as if he needed it) and dunk on both Cody and Ted at WrestleMania. I feel like Cody’s AEW origin story more or less began here.

Awwwwe, this show has little baby Drew McIntyre. It’s so interesting watching this with the benefit of hindsight. I remember a lot of people Not Feeling It when he was anointed as the Chose One, and truthfully I wasn’t feeling it at the time either, but watching it back really makes you appreciate how much hard work he put in to get to where he’d be a decade later. A lot of folks were dreading the inevitable Drew world title run in 2010. The title run did happen, but it was much later and much more welcome than anyone back than anyone could’ve imagined.

#wrestlemania #wwe network #the undertaker #john cena

[autobuttonsanddeceptistitches]

Viper’s Vengeance Chapter 1

Hello everyone! I am happy to announce that I am returning to writing once again! This story in particular is one I’ve been looking forward to posting. I’d like to give credit to EngineerHoist, a person on YouTube who did a live reading of the first two paragraphs of this story. Without his reading, I wouldn’t have the motivation to continue writing the rest of this chapter and figure out ideas for the future ones to come. Here’s the reading itself alongside the two paragraphs to follow along.

...

A pure black visor stared at the acid green flames dancing higher and higher above the fallen Cobra base. His acid gun slipped down worn fingers, Viper's knees gave way to the course sand surface. Wings lowered and bullet ridden. Spent a whole day, by himself getting rid of his creators. Humans, they've done nothing but cause chaos in his life. Memories racing in his head. Torment, lobotomy, neglect. They're dead, all of them. The red symbol he detests on his wings, the first born human made Cybertronian. Meant to be a weapon against other inferior humans. He got up, taking his battered body away from the sea of acid he'd inflicted on the pitiful humans.

The pain overwhelmed him, those tanks, the copters, forced him to land into the sand once again. Tiny grains blowing against ruined true blue paint. Maybe its best to die now, he killed those who brought him to this world, to stifle his life because of a failure, yet, he danced with Decepticons. As he listened to the fire cackling from back at his 'birthplace', a shadow overtook his vision. One with yellow optics; processor trying to bring back any memories of those with yellow. It stung, its always hurt to look through memories due to the lobotomy. Got difficult to remember important things, most assumed short term memory loss that Shockwave didn't bother to look through. Maybe if he does survive this pit he'll force that lazy scientist to help. For now, this mysterious fellow seemed to be helping him out. Other colors became recognizable. Nightbird...

His processor kept repeating the same visions. A record player of rotating screams of torment. Flesh melting away into the puddles of their creation's tears. Among the fragments is of a human cowering in a corner, his face cut and green jacket torn off. Instead of fear, he scowled.

“I gave you a new life Viper! You can't do this to me when I wasn't involved with what happened! I freed you from your prison!” Luca screamed, shaking his fist up.

“You betrayed the Decepticons, for a few dollars more...” Viper replied, taking aim and letting the green flames come to life... One traitor down, never deserving to wear the silver badge on his jacket.

The agonizing screams started to grow numbing as the malfunctioning processor stopped thinking. Focused on preserving the battered soldier, for his mission is complete at last. Nightbird, the last thought on his mind, wondering why she came. Did Megatron ask the ninja to investigate? Too tired to question, gotta sleep...

Music began to play, the kind that'd be relaxing to whoever took a listen with its keyboards. Optics lit up to the sight of the bright lights meant for surgery. A figure came into vision again, this time, its one with a red visor. Dang it, more faces to identify. At least his bright green paint job helped determine which of the Constructicons this is.

“Well, I thought you wouldn't turn gray because your human made.” Hook smirked, stepping back to grab a few more tools.

“How'd I get here?” Viper tried sitting up, yet pain spiked in his back, forcing him to lie down again.

“Nightbird dragged you in here and told me to get to work. Sounds like you made them all pay. Megatron will be glad to hear the details.” He grabbed one of the wings and began to pluck out the bullets. Viper's servos clenched, wishing he could get up and clobber the mech. Everything's too numb, like something's in his system. It could be either that or armor is still recovering from the trauma.

“Did Megatron ask her to come along?” Optics watched as the boxy helmed mech shook from left to right. His tray piling up with small metal pieces. Other Constructicons began to assist their brother and repair the damaged armor. Hook pulled off the broken black glass, revealing two vibrant blue optics underneath.

“Nope, he didn't order anyone to see your attempts. We thought you would've died. Looks like you're made of sterner stuff.” Viper didn't retort, rest, must rest and wait until he could find that canary and force the answers out of her.

It felt odd to not wear a visor anymore. His once unseen optics inspected the long hallways of the military base. A few Decepticons walked by the broken freak of a soldier. Some glanced by, but others chuckled, giddy that they aren't made by flesh creatures. Viper remained firm as he walked, wings still in pain, but will get repaired another time. Hook and others had to deal with other tarnished things. He's already broken, always been since the failure. All to think about was the silver emotionless face before his processor got torn apart. The former Cobra mech didn't notice the three fingered hand grabbing his shoulder. A great smirk embedded into one's golden face.

“Well done Viper, I enjoy human sacrifices. They were my favorite parts of Aztec history.” The one whose name would send shivers down one's Energon veins. His grin became twisted as a Cheshire Cat's. Viper glanced back, seeing the purple glowing in his vision.

“I don't care Malus, you can interpret it any way you want, but its my story, and I ended it.” Viper tried moving, yet the demigod kept a firm hold.

“Where are you going? Do you believe that I am not worthy for a conversation?” His frown changed as much as a mask for the audience of an opera.

“I want some time to myself. I spent all day fighting for my freedom while you and everyone else sat back and enjoyed my suffering like a show!” Viper's wings flared, even if he's shorter than him, that fire burned in blue optics.

“Your war, not mine.” Oh, if the snake had his acid gun, then there wouldn't be any trace of this rotten fruit anywhere. Who cares if he's the guardian to some shiny balls, none of his business.

“Be lucky I spent all my rage on the humans, rather than you.” He stomped away as Malus scoffed.

“Toodle pip Viper.” Spat out as he transformed into his spider tank alt mode and crawled away.

More faces, the same faces rewinding faster as the figures passed by. Some showing hints of concern, but hidden by their tough attitudes and looks. Viper shrugged each off, not caring if anyone was walking around this morning. Sometimes questions about the ninja, yet none replied. Until he reached up to Swindle with a fist aimed at his face.

“You're the last scumbag I'll ask today, where is Nightbird?” Viper hissed, showing the scars on broken fingers. The mech smirked, trying to cower away from the situation.

“Come on Viper, I know you had one heck of a night, but give me some credit. I didn't sell anything to Cobra,” bam! A fist to the face, letting fresh pain reel in pristine faceplates.

“Say that word again, I could go for another injection of their venom into my veins.” He goaded, before noticing a glimmer of yellow that vanished down the hallway.

“Hey!” The Rattler ran, leaving Swindle to cough up some Energon.

A giant hanger, of all places to hide in. Dark blue came in, broken glass trying to inspect wherever the femme could be. He noticed her shadow among the dim lights. Dancing around old machinery that'd been defunct for a long time. Human made items, Hook would use them for spare parts when needed. Swindle pawning off each piece for big bucks. A flicker of yellow again right beside him. Nightbird, what is she doing? She held up a blade against his neck.

“Sever the cables, and you will do nothing.” She spoke in such stillness that wouldn't alert anyone of her presence. Viper tensed, gripping the yellow weapon and making sure it wouldn't leave its mark.

“I want answers to why you were following me!” He yelled out, flipping the femme over. Nightbird groaned, unable to get up before he pressed his arm onto her neck. His other servo gripped the blade in her hand. They stared, optics burning in the morning sunlight as it crept from tiny windows in the room. Blue and yellow, much like an electric storm.

“Didn't want to continue living?” She whispered, leaning up even when he tried pushing her down.

“My life is over, I have no reason to continue, so why bring me back?” Nightbird looked away.

“We're soldiers, and you're purpose shouldn't end in such a way.” She exhaled, kicking the mech off, Viper stood back up, retaining his balance.

“Then why try killing me if I wanted to say thanks?” Blue optics observed Nightbird's own. A hint of concern behind that bright yellow often coated in anger.

A large hangar door opened, letting Soundwave come in. His armor is much more chunky on the legs and torso. A result from getting kidnapped by Cobra. Red visor caught the attention of the duo, with his cassettes tagging along.

“Viper, our lord Megatrons request to meet with you.” Said in his monotone elegance.

“I'll not keep them waiting, we'll talk about this later.” The Rattler strode away from the short conflict. Soundwave looked at Nightbird, seeing how upset she appeared to be.

“Is something wrong?” The femme shook her helm.

“No, how do you feel about that armor?” She tapped onto his shoulder, feeling the strong materials constructing it.

“It is an inferior version of myself, but I will adjust.” He transformed and let his little minions climb aboard before driving back outside. Nightbird stared, pondering what thoughts are rushing in Viper's processor right now.

Chapter 2

#Transformers #Transformers Earth Wars #Earth Wars #Transformers fanfic #fanfic #TF #Maccadams #Viper #Nightbird #Soundwave #Story #fanfiction #Viper's Vengeance

[ohblackdiamond]

something blue (ace/paul, nc-17)

The ramifications of the glam shit, the femme, androgynous shit, all that was for someone like Gene to analyze. Decide if they really were breaking down the foundations of society and dragging themselves down to a well-deserved hell by putting on heels and blouses. Paul requests drag for his 25th birthday party, and his bandmates deliver.

The ramifications of the glam shit, the femme, androgynous shit, all that was for someone like Gene to analyze. Decide if they really were breaking down the foundations of society and dragging themselves down to a well-deserved hell by putting on heels and blouses. Paul just liked wearing them. Even in junior high and high school, he’d been the lonely kid wearing outlandish outfits, the long-haired kid that people thought might be cool until he opened his mouth. It had taken years—it had taken KISS—before he could halfway manage to pair looking cool with being cool. Feeling cool, well. That was a lost cause.

The other guys ribbed him about it some, his tendency to go over the top with his clothes. It was hard to feel too bothered by it most of the time. Knowing the other three were going to spend the evening’s concert wearing nothing but BDSM gear, same as him, really curtailed the burn of any comments. Plus, for all the teasing, he knew that, ultimately, his bandmates got it, understood it. Would dress up themselves some even when they weren’t onstage.

They’d even been down for dressing in drag for his birthday party today.

So down. Maybe too down. Ace and Gene in particular had committed. He’d watched in their hotel room, not sure whether to be horrified or just amused, as they got out a couple of boxes of waxing strips and promptly deforested their legs. The whining during and afterward had been so minimal Paul wanted to ask if it wasn’t their first time. Meanwhile, Peter had just grabbed the first frock off the thrift store rack that fit him and called it good.

Paul didn’t mind. It was for the hell of it, anyway. Every damn day bled into the next while they were on tour. Even holidays didn’t have a draw to them anymore. Hanukkah got the prerequisite long-distance call to his parents, a litany of “yeah, Mom”’s while Gene stood over him with his hand out, waiting on the phone. Christmas got Peter grumbling around jewelry stores for Lydia and Ace following him around, perkily picking out things for himself and Jeanette both. Peter’s birthday was usually a drug fiasco; Paul’s… well, Paul’s was usually a little boring. The cake, the beer, the roadies. Play for a few thousand people, have a party with less than fifteen in some room backstage at the auditorium. He’d thought drag might liven things up a little. Give them all something to laugh at.

So Paul hadn’t put a whole lot of effort in, himself. He’d shaved his legs, but he hadn’t gotten rid of his five o’clock shadow. The dress was one he’d bought from some trendy boutique, floral print on black with a matching choker, and bell sleeves that weren’t quite enough of a distraction from the wideness of his shoulders. Maybe after the party he’d lob it off to the costume girl and have her cut it down into a top for him. Beyond that, well, he’d gotten a pair of black heels, stuffed a bra one of his groupies had left behind, and been done with it. He hadn’t even bought panties for the occasion, although Gene, in a rare moment of exhibitionism, had flipped up his skirt to show Paul his. Ace had done the same, albeit hesitantly, inching up the hem like he was trying to be coy, only showing one leg and a bony hip and half the underwear. But that brief look was enough. God, Ace had even matched the panties to the powder blue of his dress.

“You didn’t have to go that far, you know.” Even though Ace had dropped the hem after less than half a second, the image was already emblazoned in Paul’s head. The ruffles and lace looked like icing swirls on a tiered cake, no distraction at all from how poorly they contained Ace’s cock and balls. He must’ve been dying in that. A couple million sperm being strangled all for the sake of his party. Paul guessed it might save Ace some paternity lawsuits down the road.

“What kinda girl doesn’t match her underwear to her dress, Paulie?”

“You don’t even match your socks half the time.”

“It’s a special occasion! Hey, you only turn twenty-five once.” Ace said it as if it were something mystical, reaching over to flick Paul right in one breast. The tissues crumpled up inside his bra kept him from feeling anything, but he still rolled his eyes in response. “Thought you would’ve gone a little bigger with your tits there, though. I mean, you stuff your pants pretty good—”

“I do not stuff my pants.”

“Bullshit, I’ve roomed with you.” Ace started cackling, popping open a can of beer and taking a few long gulps before continuing. “You don’t gotta have a complex just ’cause of me and Peter—”

“I don’t! Shit, man.” Paul grabbed another piece of cake and a fork, scraping off the frosting and pushing it into a glob on the plate before scooping it into his mouth. Two sweet swallows of vanilla. Then the chocolate icing up the side from when they’d run out of the white.

“You want the rest of that?” Ace pointed to the bare piece of cake.

“I usually give it to Gene.”

“I’ll eat it. He’s had three already.”

Paul turned his head, catching sight of Gene across the room—he was talking to Lydia, just as casually as if he weren’t in a dress and strappy heels, holding a couple of empty plastic plates. Ace’s eyes followed his, and he snorted, cupping his hands over his forehead like he was a mariner searching for shore. He didn’t put his hands down until Paul looked back at him.

“What do you do that for?”

“Do what?”

“Look for Gene. What’s he gonna do, tell you no?”

“I don’t—”

“Fucking apron strings. You’re even like that in interviews! Shit, how’d he do that to you?”

“Do you want the cake or not?”

“You ain’t his little brother here, Paulie. You don’t need his permission for anything.” The corners of Ace’s mouth tilted up faintly. “Especially not giving away your own birthday cake.”

It wasn’t worth explaining. Ace probably wasn’t drunk yet, but Paul didn’t think he’d understand it even if he were sober. Ace wasn’t the type to admire anyone. But Gene just—had what Paul didn’t. Security. Self-importance. Intellectualism. When he’d first met him, it had pissed him off. When he’d started playing with him, he’d realized just what a boon it was. Ace and Peter could pop off all they wanted, but Paul knew damn well that Gene’s dogged promotion was what had secured their contract with Casablanca. He wasn’t going to forget that just because of KISS’ success. If it made him come off like Gene’s bitch to the other guys, well, that was too bad.

None of that mattered when Ace was still standing there with his hand out, waiting on the cake. Paul shrugged and handed over the plate. Ace didn’t bother with the fork, just took the cake in his hands and shoved it in his mouth. It was gone in two bites at best.

Ace wandered off after that, like a stray dog who’d gotten a couple scraps, leaving Paul alone at the dessert table. Paul didn’t really mind. He chatted with the roadies a bit, posed for a couple pictures beside the mangled cake for Lydia. He asked her if she planned on taking any group shots of the band, and almost started laughing at her shudder.

“Not with the way Peter looks. You can see the bra through his dress.”

“You can see his dick, too!” Ace piped up from a couple feet away. Lydia took a candid of Ace in retaliation, but he just snickered and hiked his skirt, managing a wobbly curtsy before the bulb flashed. Peter had to grab him to keep him from falling forward in the process. So much for thinking the man was still sober.

Paul wasn’t doing much thinking himself. Just watching everyone but him and Gene slowly get wasted. Terribly shy at his own fucking party, hanging around the refreshment table like a girl who’d gone stag to senior prom. The beer and frosting scrapings he’d had weren’t helping his nerves. It wasn’t tonight’s show that was worrying him—the shows never worried him. It wasn’t even his birthday getting to him. Like it could. Twenty-five was nowhere near the downhill slope. He felt great. He was great. He was living his dream. Sure, it’d fall apart eventually, but eventually was a dim speck that only a lonesome night could ever turn into more. As long as someone was with him, whether bandmates or bedmates, anything painful, anything meaningful, could be shifted over to the side like so much cake on his plate.

No, it was petty, what was on his mind now. Pure rockstar excess. It wasn’t that he was upset about the hotel accommodations or the refreshment table or even the way the stars on his outfit didn’t reflect the stage lights as much as he wanted. No, he was upset about losing the silver garter he wore onstage. The most meaningless portion of his costume, the one thing nobody else cared about, and he had the gall to be upset about it. He’d even had the gall to enlist all the roadies that were willing to help in the search earlier today—all they’d found, in any of the hotel rooms, was Ace and Peter’s marijuana stashes (immediately consumed), several condoms, new and used, and some frankly disturbing groupie photos even Gene hadn’t wanted for his album. Paul was half-convinced that Gene had somehow both accidentally and soberly fucked the abominable snowman.

But the garter hadn’t turned up, and he was still ruminating over it as if it were important. He couldn’t explain it. He didn’t know why, but he really—really dug it when people reached up from the front row and snapped that garter. Didn’t matter if it was girls or drunk guys. He tried not to think too hard about what it meant, if he really was half-queer or if he was just so fucking desperate for affection that he’d accept it from anyone, male or female. He wasn’t sure which was worse.

The most pathetic thing about losing the garter was that it didn’t matter at all. Not to anyone but him. He had a couple back-ups at the ready, in case someone snapped the garter off, but it bothered him. He’d rather wear the same garter during the whole tour. Good luck, or maybe just comfortable routine. Maybe because it was tangible evidence of want, like Gene’s Polaroid collection. Something that stuck around long after the night’s groupies were gone. God knew how many fingerprints were on the thing. How much sweat, too.

Whatever. He shook his head, grabbing a Coke this time. He’d enjoy the rest of the party; they’d finish up, then get ready for the concert, back-up garter on, and—

“Ground control to Major Stannnnnley.”

Ace again. No, not just Ace. Peter was there, too, snagging another bottle of beer. And Gene, too, had apparently torn himself away from macking on a roadie’s girlfriend to come on over. It was kind of odd, them all bunched together like they were waiting on something.

“Yeah?”

“We got three hours before the show.”

“I know.”

“Means they’re gonna make us wrap this up soon.”

“Yeah, I know—” Paul paused. That vague feeling of dread was starting to crop up, making his skin prickle. The roadies seemed like they were heading towards the table now, too, none too subtle about it. Aucoin wasn’t looking their way, but he was smiling. Fantastic. Something was about to happen. Probably the guys had all chipped in to get him some obscene gag gift, like a giant dildo or a custom blow-up doll. Paul looked past the gathering crowd, hoping to spot someone carrying a box—with any luck, he could cut them off at the pass—but there was nothing. He cleared his throat. “Hey, you guys sang ‘Happy Birthday’ for me twice already. So what gives?”

“We heard you lost your garter.”

Gene’s face was set in such an impossibly straight line that Paul knew he had to be seconds from cracking up entirely. Paul threw him a suspicious look before answering.

“Yeah? It’s fine. I’ve got some extras—”

“Nah, you don’t need them.”

“Don’t tell me. You bought me a new garter.” Paul rubbed his forehead. “You spent a whole two bucks on me at the lingerie store. I’m so impressed.”

“You think that thing costs two bucks, Paul?” Gene again, his brow furrowed. “It’s custom. There aren’t that many girls with thighs as big as yours.”

“Shut up, Gene.” He could feel his face heating up as he took another survey of the room, staring at everybody in turn, trying to make sure he looked more annoyed than flustered. All right, so it wasn’t in a box, and wasn’t in anybody’s hands. That just left—“Okay, who’s wearing it?”

“Don’t look at me—”

“Peter, c’mon.”

“I swear I don’t have your fucking garter.”

Paul crooked his finger toward him. Peter started laughing.

“I swear to God, Paulie!”

“Up.”

“Y’know, I usually do this to music…” Peter trailed before hiking up his skirt. Each inch exposed just how seriously he’d taken the drag suggestion, coarse leg hair a wince-inducing contrast to the beige maxi dress. Paul cleared his throat once the dress cleared his knees with no garter in sight, but Peter ignored him. He just kept raising that skirt until he got to the goods, the plain Hanes panties that were huge enough to hold his dick in place, though the elastic above it was drooping. The roadies started clapping and snickering, while Peter preened. “You want more and I’ve gotta charge. We got a rate set up yet, Lydia?”

“Keep this up and you might be free,” Lydia muttered.

“Baby—”

“Okay, next,” Paul snapped, looking at Gene. Gene just raised his hands.

“You already got a peek.”

“That was twenty minutes ago.”

“Oh, now, don’t be greedy about it,” Gene said, smooth and enviably cool, as he set down his bottle of Coke and peeled up the skirt of his dress, earning a few more whoops from the crowd. The pleased grin plastered on his face made Paul want to shake him. He stopped mostly-short of the thong he was wearing, Paul regretting the bare glimpse he did get of the damn thing. No garter. Great. So that left the roadies, none of whom were dressed in drag, Aucoin, who saved any residual classlessness for gay bars, and the guy he probably should have suspected first.

“Ace.”

“Paulie.”

Ace was helping himself to another slice of cake. He’d done his makeup, Paul noticed belatedly. Not the greasepaint; just lipstick and mascara, maybe a little blush. It wasn’t heavyhanded. Back when they’d first started, back when they’d all tried for the New York Dolls look, Ace had been the only one who’d pulled it off. He’d looked like Shirley Maclaine—not glamorous, but cute, really cute—while the rest of the band looked like quarterbacks who’d lost a bet. Paul had been so disgusted with his own shots in particular. He could all but feel his own awkwardness emanating through each picture. Knew he’d been trying too hard, him and Gene and Peter, too, while Ace hadn’t been trying at all.

Right now, Ace still looked passably feminine. More than passably. Especially with his hair long, the black dye all but washed out, and the choker hiding his Adam’s apple and the light pink sheen to his lips. It was pretty disturbing, and Ace was only making it worse by staring innocently at Paul, licking a bit of frosting off his lips, taking some of the lipstick with it.

“You’ve got the garter.”

“I don’t, man. I already showed you, too.”

“Show me again.”

Ace didn’t wipe off his mouth before obliging, humming the beginning riff to “Parasite” as he raised the hem of his dress. Carefully. Again. Too carefully. Inching it up like he was revealing the Venus DeMilo to a crowd of perverts. He was getting the exact same view he had before, a view of a smooth leg and just the hint of a blue pair of panties. Paul narrowed his eyes.

“I’m only seeing one leg here.”

“You want all three or what?”

“I want my garter back.”

Ace snickered.

“At your service, sweetheart. Only ’cause it’s your birthday.”

And then he yanked the skirt all the way up. There it was, the silver fabric shimmering just slightly in the dim light. On Ace’s left leg, the one he hadn’t exposed earlier. Up almost to his crotch, the exact position Paul normally had it on himself. Aucoin had told him once no girl would’ve worn it that high, but Paul hadn’t cared—

“You caught me.” Ace was grinning. “Shit, I thought you would’ve figured it out faster! You overthink things, Paulie, you really do—”

“Give it here.”

“Nah. How about you take it off?”

“Ace, don’t be an ass—”

 “Go on. Take it off.” Ace was still holding up the hem of his dress. Dangling it like a clothesline in the wind. “Make me feel pretty.”

 Paul glanced at Gene, half-hating himself for doing it. Gene wasn’t coming to his rescue, anyway, offering just a shrug of his shoulders and a “you heard him.” Peter had stepped closer in to get a better look. Fine. Fine. He wasn’t going to prolong this. Paul headed to Ace and leaned over, reaching for the garter. He hadn’t so much as curled his fingers over the silver elastic before Ace snatched his hand, raising it up.

“Not like that, Paulie. You gotta do it proper.”

“Proper,” Paul repeated dully. Ace blinked, then laughed, letting go of Paul’s hand.

“Ain’t you ever been to a wedding?”

“I went to yours?”

“Aw, fuck, no wonder.” Ace shook his head. “You got teeth, don’t you?”

“Yeah—”

Ace hiked his dress a little higher, exposing himself all the way up to his navel. Paul’s face went crimson.

“Get under there, Paul.”

He could feel all of them staring at him. His bandmates, the handful of roadies, Aucoin. Not even fifteen people there, but it was still like a concert without amps. Just about terrifying. Just about terrifying, and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it but bitch or whine or—or get under there.

He sunk to his knees in front of Ace, and felt Ace drop the skirt over his head, where it fell almost to his waist. The thin material was no barrier at all to the sounds of Peter whooping and Gene chuckling. Paul breathed in heavily, feeling his face flush darker and darker. God. God.

He’d tug down the garter and be done with it. Ten seconds at worst.

 Ace’s dick, barely encased in those ruffled panties, wasn’t as unpleasant a counterpoint to the garter as it should’ve been. Distractingly big, even though he was soft right now. Wasn’t even the first time Paul had gotten this close to it. Ace and Peter fooled around all the time in the dressing room, finding it funny as hell to drape their dicks on Paul’s shoulders like a pair of fleshy epaulettes while he was trying to put on his makeup. They did it to Gene, too, only Gene threatened to bite them. Paul would just push them off.

He leaned forward, his nose bumping up against the jut of Ace’s hip on accident. Ace didn’t even move. Every breath was brushing right up against Ace’s skin as his teeth closed around the garter, started to slip it down, slowly, slowly, not wanting to tear the fabric. Halfway down his thigh now.

“Jesus, he’s taking forever.” Peter, grousing as usual.

“Nah, nah, he’s doing fine.” Paul could almost see the lazy smile spreading on Ace’s face. He twitched as Ace felt around, finding the top of his head and patting it through the dress as if he were a dog. “Just being careful, right?”

 Paul’s face felt like an inferno. The garter between his teeth was slightly damp with spit and barely above Ace’s knee. For all that the spandex and leather costumes showed them off, he hadn’t ever noticed just how long Ace’s legs were until now. His mouth was a quarter-inch at best from a thin, pale scar that spanned from Ace’s kneecap to mid-shin. Ace had blamed it on a spaceship crash, but Paul was pretty damn sure one of his car accidents was the real cause. It wasn’t a bad scar, wasn’t even particularly noticeable if he weren’t right up on it.

He didn’t mind. It was a relief to see some kind of blemish on Ace. Something to mar the casual, messy perfection of his playing and the uncomfortable mesh of a too-pretty face and crude mannerisms. Something that made him seem a little less untouchable. Drop him down from that pedestal he only ever reserved for people that were comfortable, that knew who they were, that didn’t ever seem to be anything but perfectly at ease even when they were flat on their backs on the stagefloor.

Paul took a quick inhale. Ace’s hand sunk down against his head again, fingers curling, pushing his hair back blindly through the cloth.

“Good girlie,” he said, out of nowhere. Paul heard Gene laugh somewhere behind him. “What? He is, Gene!”

“I think he likes it down there,” Peter said.

“Aw, ’m not gonna speak for Paul when he’s got his mouth full—"

He didn’t even think about it. Just a burst of awful inspiration, that was all, borne out of the need to shut Ace up, or get him nervy and embarrassed and fumbling the way he was. The way he always was. Awful inspiration that drove him to tug the garter between his teeth, stretching the elastic, and then let it go, watching it snap satisfyingly against Ace’s bare skin.

Ace’s knee twitched, his hand closing in a little tighter against his hair. But that was all. Paul knew that was all because he couldn’t hear anyone’s comments past the general din of the room itself. No one had said anything, so clearly, Ace hadn’t reacted. Still cool and casual as ever. Paul tried it again. No movement this time. Not even that unexpected shifting.

His arms, the lousy things, hanging stiffly by his sides, raised up. He heard an “uh-uh” from Ace, felt him back up just slightly when his hands closed over Ace’s smooth thigh instead of the garter beneath it. Paul’s heart rattled somewhere in his chest as he closed that last space between them and pressed his lips to Ace’s skin.

He felt it then. Ace starting to tilt forward, just a bit. Paul held his leg steady, breath hitching, expecting a curse he didn’t get.

“There you go, girlie… there you go…” If there was any teasing to Ace’s tone, Paul couldn’t hear it. Nothing but encouragement, encouragement that was sending awful spikes of warmth into Paul’s veins. He was trying to embarrass the hell out of him, and Ace was just eating it up. No way. Just no way. Paul’s breath hitched as he pressed another kiss to Ace’s thigh, and another, and another. Hoping for something. A wriggle, an awkward murmur. Something. Ace only coiled his fingers up against his hair through the fabric, up and down, smooth, gentle pets too approving to be believed.

 Paul shut his eyes, licking lightly against Ace’s skin, the faint taste of sweat on his tongue as his hands tightened around Ace’s leg. Finally, Ace was reacting again. Ace’s fingers were grasping at his head, not forcing, just tilting it up and over. Paul let him. He let him even as he realized Ace was turning his face directly towards the panties.

“Jesus, Paul, are you stuck? Should we put a canary under there?”

“He’s good! I told you, he’s just… just being real gentle…” Paul could hear the brief pauses between the words. Ace was testing him. Teasing him. Seeing if he’d go for it. Drawing this out until Paul hit his limit. Counting on Paul’s limit being way before his own, because it always had been. Because Paul would stop short where Ace would plow ahead. Because Paul was tied down to his own insecurities while Ace just didn’t give a damn. Because Paul would get ruffled at all sorts of shit that Ace would just let ride. It wasn’t going to be like that. Not tonight.

Paul’s teeth caught on the edge of Ace’s panties, right up against his hip. They were a lot thinner than the garter. Less resistance as he tugged them down by that single edge, leaving the panties lopsided, leaving Ace to deal with straightening them back out later. He managed to free Ace’s half-hard cock with just his mouth, murmuring against it, offering tentative licks that only got more determined as his hands moved from Ace’s leg to grasp at his hips, clutching them. He’d never done this before. Didn’t have the luxury of being drunk to cover up this insanity. Didn’t have the luxury of being alone with him, either, the crowd a presence the skirt didn’t cover up in the slightest from his senses. But he didn’t care as Ace’s hips bucked slightly against his fingers and his lips curled around his teeth like he’d seen a dozen girls do just this month alone. Paul’s mouth slid open easily, engulfing Ace’s cock inch by inch, spit laving the veiny surface. He heard a sharp inhale of breath, felt one of Ace’s legs start to wobble as he hissed.

“F-fuck, Paulie…” And then Ace’s grip tightened again, tugging him firmly away. Paul mumbled around his cock before letting it go, pressing one more teasing kiss against Ace’s thigh. Ace guided him insistently back towards the garter, Paul obliging, pulling it past his knee, down to his shin before unclasping it with his hands. Ace didn’t let go of his head until the garter was undone and back in his mouth, raising the skirt so Paul could crawl back out to the sound of applause from the guys.

He hadn’t expected Ace’s hand there to pull him up to his feet. Hadn’t expected Ace to be smiling through his hard-on just like he was onstage. But he was.

“Nice work, girlie.” Ace tugged lazily at the garter still in Paul’s mouth. Paul let him have it, against his own better judgment, but Ace only kissed the garter and handed it back, then turned to the group, holding up his arm like he was presenting the new heavyweight champion. “All right! All right, give ’im another hand, yeah!”

They did. Paul looked from one amused, drunken face to the next and couldn’t even feel himself flush. Mr. Sobriety was gulping down the rest of his Coke and shaking his head. Grinning. One of the other roadies came in a bit after, talking about the setup, the stage, and Uriah Heep’s supply of dope, and they all started to filter out. Somebody took what was left of the cake with them, probably bringing it back to the hotel. Paul hung back at first, watching the guys clean up before heading towards the door himself—now that he had the garter back, he might as well go to the dressing room and start getting ready—when Ace draped an arm over his shoulder from behind.

“Hey,” he said. “Hey, Paul.”

“Yeah?”

“You left me hanging, man.” Without even turning to face him, Paul could almost see Ace’s lazy smile. One more step and Paul could feel his hard-on through the dress, brushing against his thigh. Ace hadn’t had the shame to adjust his panties after. “Surprised me, y’know? Thought sure you’d flip out—”

“It’s not—I was only—” Goddamnit. He was actually confronting him about it. Paul forced himself to look Ace in the eyes, feeling his cheeks go warm again as he tried to explain. “I mean, I wanted to—”

“You wanted to?”

“No! It’s just—”  

“S’okay, Paulie. I wanted you to, too.” Ace laughed. “But fuck, man, you gotta make sure everybody’s a little more wasted before you suck a guy off in front of the whole damn crew.”

 “I wasn’t going to,” Paul started, feebly, watching Ace’s hand slide down from his shoulder to cup one tissue-stuffed breast. Squeeze it. Paul was pretty sure he couldn’t feel anything past the padding, but the sharp jolt of want singeing through his insides proved him wrong. “I just wanted to see you squirm.”

“Can’t see anything with that dress on over you.” Ace cackled. “But we got time now, if you really want a good look.”

“Ace—”

“Hell, I’ll return the favor. It’s your birthday, you’ve been a pretty good girl… ain’t knocked up too many chicks this year—”

“It’s January.”

“Exactly. What do you say, Paulie?”

Paul swallowed. His fingers found Ace’s hand, the one still cupping his chest. Tightened around it like he was about to yank Ace’s hand away. He could almost swear he still tasted Ace’s cock in his mouth, the heaviness of him. The way it had all felt for those few minutes, the way everything had stopped mattering except the feel of Ace’s hand on his head and his approving words. Girlie, he’d kept calling him girlie and he should’ve punched him in the nuts for it, concert or no, but he’d liked it, he’d liked it as much as he’d liked every little breathy hitch and every press of skin on skin, the feel of the lacy fabric against his tongue and teeth. Depraved and vulgar and exactly what he wanted.

He raised Ace’s hand up to his lips and started to suck on his forefinger, tongue sliding all the way down to his wedding ring, swiping away the faint traces of cake crumbs and frosting still there. Behind him, Ace stiffened slightly, and Paul glanced back, only to see those dark eyes all dilated, all amused, only to hear three more words.

“All right. C’mon.”

It wasn’t five minutes before Ace had Paul barricading both doors with a couple of tables turned sideways, and it wasn’t six before Ace’s hands were all over Paul, back to playing with his chest at first, then sliding down, squeezing his ass through the dress. Paul grunted—stupidly, he’d expected Ace would just want his hard-on taken care of, and not want any other touching—but he did. That was all right. Paul tilted his head to the side, leaning in to try to kiss Ace’s neck, what little the choker didn’t cover up, but Ace caught him first, lips pushing against his with an urgency he’d never expected. Ace’s lipstick was smearing all over his mouth with each wet kiss, claiming him better than any groupie, leaving him panting as their hips collided, barely able to think past his own insane need.

By the time he dropped to his knees, they were already starting to buckle, the thin stiletto heels somehow seeming like a pair of impossibilities he’d strapped on. He was surprised when Ace sank down to the floor, too, grabbing his arms and tugging Paul on top of him.

It was jarring, looking down at Ace like that. Could’ve almost been convinced he was a chick if his groans and hard-on didn’t give him away. It threw him off, but he dug it, somehow. There was a filthy pleasure there. He was into it, getting into it, cupping Ace’s smooth jaw and touching his lips to Ace’s ear like he was about to whisper something sweet, the way he used to with groupies before they just came with the room. The way he used to with girlfriends before even that term lost its meaning. Kissing him hard, muffling Ace’s grunts with his mouth.

Beneath him, Ace’s hips rocked insistently against his, the thin fabric of the dresses making the friction twice as satisfying, no comparison to the harsh rub of jeans or slacks against each other. Paul wasn’t sure if the spreading wetness against the fabric was his precum or Ace’s or both, and he didn’t care. Ace’s hand grazed Paul’s cheek before sliding back into his mussed curls, tugging through the tangles, the motion too tender to match the needy rutting, whispering against his neck—

“Get down there, Paulie.”

Paul did. He hiked Ace’s dress up before settling between his thighs. He tugged the panties down to his knees, planning to stop there, but a grunt from Ace made him slide them off all the way, the lacy fabric catching briefly on one of Ace’s heels.

“Don’t worry about it,” Ace mumbled, so Paul tossed the panties aside to the floor. From there it was easy enough. Less intimidating now to be anchoring his hands to Ace’s bony hips, to be leaning down, breathing hard through his nose as he started to lap against the full length of Ace’s cock. Almost no teasing—Paul didn’t know how. The chicks were always so overcome by just having him that they never dared.

He got as much of Ace’s dick in his mouth as he could before he started to suck in earnest. Ace’s hand found his head again, no more casual petting but grasps and tugs, urging Paul to start bobbing his head up and down his cock. Paul let him take the lead, trying hard to hum around the throatful, vaguely impressed he hadn’t yet choked. No letting Ace know he hadn’t done this before. No letting him know, but Paul guessed he might’ve known anyway, from the way he kept his hips fairly steady on the floor, the way he never outright yanked Paul by the hair to try and get him to fuck his mouth. Only toward the end did Ace start to get unraveled, really unraveled, grunting, whole body starting to tense and twitch, rejecting the pace he’d set. Paul drank in every response, every curse. Started fondling his balls as he laved attention on his dick, watching the look in Ace’s eyes get more heady and distant and too-close all at once. It sent a thrill through Paul that made his cock ache all the more, watching and feeling him tense up, building toward orgasm, almost there, he knew it, almost—

“Fuck, Paulie. Fuck, girlie, you got it, you got it…” Ace trailed, grip tightening on Paul’s curls. Paul watched Ace’s eyes slide shut, mouth slipping open into a low moan. “Been so good… I’m gonna, I’m gonna,” he warned, seconds before orgasm hit, leaving Paul still hopelessly unprepared. Half his come ended up splattered on Paul’s face. The rest he’d swallowed on accident, barely registering the taste on his tongue.

He raised his head up, almost dazed, lifting his sleeve towards his face. Ace sat up and grabbed it before he could start to wipe himself off, a slow smile easing itself across his face.

“Uh-uh. ’M not gonna let you mess up your birthday dress like that.”

“What, you don’t have a towel—”

“Don’t need one.” Ace’s dress rustled as he shifted to his knees, thighs splayed. He leaned in, resting his hands on Paul’s shoulders. Paul didn’t have time to question him before Ace’s tongue was tracing over the come on his face, licking it up without so much as a shudder. Each lap against his cheeks and nose and forehead tingled, making Paul want to squirm, but he didn’t, Ace pressing into him as he finished up, one hand diving beneath his bra, slipping past the tissues to squeeze each breast in turn.

“You got hard for me, girlie,” Ace said, then laughed. “Well, obviously, but…” and he twisted Paul’s nipple between his thumb and forefinger, chuckling as Paul took a sharp gasp for breath, “right here. ’S nice, ’s real nice… now why don’t you lay back down for me, there, yeah… sweet girlie, good girlie…”

Ace followed him down, dragging a few lazy kisses down the side of Paul’s damp face as he spoke. Paul’s hands were on the hem of his own dress before Ace could get there, tugging it up while Ace was still on top of him. Ace’s eyes glinted in sheer amusement at that, and for a second, Paul faltered, still holding onto the dress, sure that Ace was about to tease or try and deny him or something agonizing like that, but he only grinned.

“I’m getting there! C’mon, have a little faith, yeah?” But he was scooting down, the soft slide of dress against dress nothing short of sinful. He flipped up Paul’s dress the rest of the way, all the way up to just below the bra, exposing his plain black boxers, the fabric straining to hold his erection in place. “Oh, Paulie, that’s not very ladylike…”

“I wasn’t gonna strangle my dick for my own party.”

“Next time, then.” Ace yanked Paul’s boxers all the way down, tossing them aside, nudging Paul’s legs apart with his knee as if he needed to. Paul watched him sink down, watched him kiss and lick at the insides of his thighs, running his fingers against the soft flesh. His heart was racing far before Ace’s mouth met his dick, started to swallow him up, taking him on easily, eagerly. Ace’s hands were roving over his skin, dragging across his thighs and hips and rubbing against his hairy torso. It was bizarre just watching his own chest rise and fall, the contrast between it and the soft fabric and his bare, smooth legs jarring, as jarring as watching Ace work his cock while his dress fanned out underneath him. One of Ace’s legs was up, bent lazily, the strappy leather heel catching the dim fluorescent light—ankle twitching just a little as Ace’s head bobbed up and down his dick, flecks of spit there at the corners of his mouth.

Paul was crying out before long, wordlessly at first, then curses, then, finally, Ace’s name in a loud, ragged plea. Closer. Closer. No holding out, but he wanted something to latch onto, something in all this unreality, all this confusion. His hands clasped at Ace, touching his hair before finding his shoulders instead, rubbing and then clinging against them, nowhere near in time to Ace’s mouth or even his own twitching thrusts inside it. Not enough touch. Not enough to ground him. Paul grunted, shifted beneath Ace, hooking his ankle around Ace’s own, the one on the floor. Ace didn’t move, but Paul could’ve sworn his expression changed, softened, just for a second before Paul’s own vision whirled into a miasma in front of him and he screamed out his own orgasm with one last shudder.

Ace swallowed it all down. Paul just lay there for a few seconds, before letting go of Ace’s shoulders, unlocking his ankle from Ace’s. It almost felt like too much trouble to sit up, but he did, slowly, raising himself up on his forearms, dress starting to shift back down from the movement. Ace tugged it the rest of the way, and then Paul stumbled to his feet, wobbling slightly, breathing nowhere near normal yet.

“Ace,” he said. Ace looked up at him. Paul reached out his hand, tugging Ace up the way he’d done a dozen times or more, on and offstage. The makeup was gone now, swept away by kisses and sweat, the illusion starting to falter. But right now, that didn’t matter. Right now, that didn’t matter a bit. “Thanks, Ace.”

Paul didn’t know how to word it. If to word it. If to dare give voice to all kinds of weird, troublesome shit, and instead, he’d kept holding Ace’s hand. Longer than he should’ve. Squeezing it, even, feeling stupider every moment he did. He could imagine the look on his face right now, sated but wanting, desperately wanting, like that last idiot groupie in the Coop, nothing like the look Ace was giving him back. Couldn’t be. Just couldn’t.

He dropped his hold on Ace’s hand. Ace just smiled and took it again, palm hot against his own.

“Thanks for what, girlie?”

“For… for getting me off.”

“Hey. If you’re good, you get off every time.” Ace lifted Paul’s hand to his mouth, pressed a quick kiss to his wrist. Paul thought he might wink at him, or bow, or make some exaggerated curtsy, but he didn’t. Just let go of his hand. Just leaned in one last time to steal another kiss and another grope. Just that, and that was everything. “Happy birthday, Paulie.”

#kiss the band #kiss fanfiction #ace frehley #paul stanley #ace frehleyxpaulstanley #gene simmons #peter criss

[sweeetmonstrosity]

Infinite Love

Summary: In which their souls are reunited and they get a second chance to be together.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader 

Warnings: Angsty as hell, Mentions of major depression. Eventual fluff.

A/N: Here is my entry for @ruckystarnes ‘s 2K writing challenge. My prompt was the song Whiskey Lullaby by Brad Paisley (feat. Allison Krauss). Listening to this song on repeat while writing made me cry a bit, so that was fun! Lol. Any feed back is appreciated! xx

Word Count: 3321

Link: AO3

She put him out.

“So, I saw Stevie today. He came by to see you.” You nonchalantly mentioned to Bucky as you were cleaning up from dinner.

“Oh, yeah? Did he say what he needed, Y/N?” He asked as he stacked the dishes up on the counter.

“Sort of, he mentioned something, it was obvious he thought I already knew.” You explained. “He tried covering for you though, explain it all away on why I hadn’t been told my fiancé had signed up for the war and is leaving in a few days.”

You could see Bucky’s body tense up and as he turned around you saw how panicked his face was. “Darlin’, let me explain-”

Cutting him off, you clutched a towel between your hands and hissed, “no explanations needed, Buck. I know how your head works, you didn’t know how to tell me, so you put it off.” He nodded his head frantically and opened his mouth again, but you had walked away into the bedroom.

He watched as you looked at the pictures of you two together and but he stopped you before you could grab your things. “Y/N, please, don’t leave. I was gonna sit you down tonight and tell you everything. I swear I was darlin’. You gotta believe me.”

She broke his heart.

You placed your hand on his cheek and smiled sadly, “I do believe you, Buck. But I don’t think I can handle you being gone. As much as it kills me to say this, I don’t think it’s a good idea to stay together.” Bucky tightened his grip on your hand and froze in place.

Kissing his cheek softly, you took a breath as a couple tears fell down your cheeks and whispered, “it’ll always be you, Buck. No one can ever take your place. I’ll be waiting for you. The day you come back, I’ll be there. We can run away like you always wanted to travel the world and start a family. I love you, James Buchanan Barnes.”

He became a different person while he was at war. He drank and volunteered for the risky missions, he put himself on the first lines. He threw himself into the most dangerous situations, sometimes buzzed and sometimes completely drunk, knowing it would kill you if you ever found out.

He needed to cause you pain. He drank like he needed that whiskey to breath. It became his addiction. Drink in the mornings before workouts. Drink after workouts were done. Drink before a mission. Drink when the mission got to hard. Drink after a mission.

But he never could get drunk enough.

He drank and drank to try and forget his best girl. The only girl he knew he would ever be in love with. His Y/N. But you always stayed there in his mind.

That’s when he made a mistake. He was partially drunk when his team had gotten captured. He knew his guys were dying because of what these doctors were doing. He could hear their screams and the pain they were in. When it was his turn, he was okay with what was to come. He needed you gone. You were everywhere.

The smallest thing would be mentioned, a word, a smell, a fucking coin, and you would pop up in his head. Saying you loved him, you needed him, you were his. You were all he seen when they injected him with that stuff. Telling him to hold on. To fight for you. Fight for your love, your future together.

It pissed him off that you helped him hold on long enough for Stevie to show up and save him.

And finally drank away her memory.

You were still there, and he was supposed to be recovering from what happened. But he just drank and drank. He needed to forget you. But he also had to repay Stevie for saving him, even if he didn’t want to be saved.

So, when Stevie needed his help, he agreed, he shouldn’t have. He was drunk off his ass. It was to the point he could barely remember you would put him in a cold shower to help sober him up.

His second mistake was the one that was fatal. Too drunk to comprehend what was really happening. To understand the height they were at. To know what was really happening.

Life is short but this time it was bigger.

Steve didn’t think it was that bad for Bucky. That all’s he did was drink to forget, until the rest of the Howlies told him. Bucky made sure to never drink in front of one of them too many times in one day, so none of them really knew how bad it was.

Bucky was his best friend. No, he was Stevie’s brother, so Steve knew he had to go back to look for Bucky’s body. There was no way in hell he was just going to leave him there, alone in the middle of nowhere.

And so, they searched. For miles and miles around where Steve estimated his fall. Stevie and the Howlies looked for Bucky and they came with nothing. They were all ready to leave until they heard their Captain cry out.

We found him with his face down in the pillow.

With a note that said I’ll love her ‘till I die.

Alls that remained was a bloody picture. A picture Stevie took of you both. At his apartment, laying on the couch. Bucky was laying on his stomach with his face in the pillow, sleeping. And you were curled up under his chest, letting him cover your body with his own.

Stevie had asked why, and you answered “he’s like my own personal blanket since he’s a blanket hog I had to figure something else out.”

Bucky took the picture from Steve and kept it on him. Always. Even showed Steve the day he wrote on the bottom of it I’ll love her ‘till I die. “She’s my girl, Stevie, my Y/N, nothing’s gonna change that.”

And when we buried him beneath the willow.

The angels sang a whiskey lullaby.

Bucky’s little sister informed you what happened. He wasn’t coming back. You lead his family to yours and Bucky’s favorite tree. The tree where you met. You didn’t need his body to lay him to rest. You just needed your love for him.

And so, you and his family planted flowers for him next to his favorite place and said your goodbyes.

The rumors flew.

But nobody knew how much she blamed herself.

The love of your life was gone and you broke his heart before he left. You knew it was your fault it happened. You were angry and hurt he hid it from you, but you knew you shouldn’t have said you couldn’t be together anymore. He was the only person you would ever love.

When he first left, a research team approached you asked for you to join them. They wanted to change mankind for the better. To make the future a greater place. But you denied them. You had to wait for him to return. You had to get your Bucky back.

But he was gone, and his blood, his death was on your hands.

She tried to hide the whiskey on her breath.

You drank. It was one thing you and he bonded over. Drinking to numb the other feelings in you when they got too much.

You drank and drank until you couldn’t remember what day it was. You could never hide how drunk you were like he could. So, when Rebecca came over to check on you, she saw how broken you were and helped put you back together.

She convinced you to go be apart of that research team. “Change the world, sis. Show them all that Y/N and Bucky Barnes were the couple to save the world! Do this for him, he would have wanted you to take this chance.”

She finally drank her pain away.

A little at a time.

The research team wasn’t what you thought it was. They kept injecting you with things. Saying “it’s for new diseases. You’re helping us shape the future, Y/N, trust us.”

They still let you drink, you drank every second they allowed you too. You didn’t want to feel the pain that you broke Bucky’s heart before he left. That he died believing you hated him or at least didn’t love him anymore.

Everyday, the pain eased more and more.

She put that bottle to her head.

And pulled the trigger.

And finally drank away his memories.

You were with this “research team” for two years now. Everyday was the same. Drink as much as possible. “Shape the future” by getting a million and one injections and then passing out. At one point, you forgot why you were drinking so much. You tried to remember, but everything was blank.

It seemed normal, like it was routine. So, you continued it. You asked your doctor about a man you remember. There was no name, barely a description, but you knew he was supposed to mean something because he was always there. Telling you “save yourself. Run. Fight for me, please.”

The response you got from your doctor was “don’t worry, femme fatale. Whoever he is, he won’t be a problem soon.”

We found her with her face down in the pillow.

Clinging to his picture for dear life.

Bucky’s family was told by the police, they had found your body. You were dead in your apartment. They weren’t sure if it was a murder or an accidental death, but no one was allowed to see your body until they determined what happened. All they were given was a picture of Bucky. Said “she had this in her hands when we found her.” Rebecca let out loud heart-wrenching sobs, so did her siblings and her mother, she felt like her heart was breaking for the third time. First James, then Stevie, and now you.

His family waited like the officers said and when they went to ask about your funeral, they were told the station didn’t know what you were talking about. Those ‘officers’ that came to their front door didn’t exist. There was no record of you being found dead in your apartment. But the real cops said you were probably kidnapped and those guys were covering for if Buck’s family started looking for you. They were devastated. You, Steve and Bucky were all gone, without a trace.

We laid her next to him beneath the willow.

While the angels sang the whiskey lullaby.

Finally, they decided to lay you next to Bucky and Stevie. You guys belonged together. Everyone knew that. You were the three musketeers. The three peas in a pod. One wasn’t complete without the other two.

You were soulmates. In different ways, but no matter what happened, you always ended back up with each other.

It was bound to happen. Come hell or high water, you three would be reunited once again.

La-la-la-la-la-la-la.

You became the femme fatale.

No longer did Y/N Y/L/N exist. She’s been dead since the 40’s. You were now the deadliest female weapon Hydra ever created, the second deadliest weapon Hydra created. You were the best at seducing what you needed out of men without ever touching them. And killing them the same way.

You were frozen when you weren’t needed for years. Or locked in an inescapable cell if there were only a few months between when you were needed. You always knew when you were going back under.

The only time you were frozen without warning was when a picture would pop in your head during certain missions. Questioning them about the picture made them angry and they put you back in the shock machine then back into the pod.

That man from the picture always lingered in your head though. Even after the re-frying of your brain. He was always there.

La-la-la-la-la-la-la.

He became the winter soldier.

James Buchanan Barnes was just one of the Howling Commandos. Died in the most honorable way, protecting his country. Now, he was just the deadliest weapon Hydra ever created. He was the best at killing anyone quickly and efficiently with no problems or missed shots. He was also the best at being a ghost. No one knew if he was real or just a story.

And like you, he was frozen when he wasn’t needed for a while. Or locked up when he was needed more often.

The picture was the only reason he was frozen suddenly. It was of a man and a woman laying together. He could see her face but there was never a name. He asked about her once, and they upped his shocking treatment and put him back on ice.

Her face was always there. Especially when his mission was to take out families, children included. Her face made him hesitate for a millisecond and then he finished his mission and left.

La-la-la-la-la-la-la.

The femme fatale and the winter soldier were needed for the same mission. It was the one to finally tip the scales in favor of Hydra. They did their separate missions and then finally met up to do their mission together.

The talked about the best way to handle the guy with the shield, and guy with the wings and the woman with red hair while completing the mission too. Never once looking at each other. They weren’t friends. They didn’t need to sit and stare at each other when talking about a mission. The facts were only needed.

The longer you sat together, you felt the need to walk over to him. To shake his hand or something. For the moment, you were partners, and you needed him to know you had respect for him and what he’s done for Hydra. But you hesitated.

He felt compelled to thank you for all you accomplished for Hydra. Look you in the eyes and nod at you or something. It was strange. He’s never felt like he needed to thank any other agent for doing their job. But you, you were different and he couldn’t understand why.

La-la-la-la-la-la-la.

At last, you began to walk over to him and at the same time he decided to turn around.

You gasped out loudly when your eyes connected with his and you took a step back while clutching your hand to your chest. He looked like he was having the same problem catching his breath but he had his grip on the wooden table keeping himself standing.

Suddenly you were hit with a force that made you drop to your knees and let out a guttural scream as memories from the past fifty plus years flooded through your head.

He was watching you writhe on the floor as he broke or pieces of the table. His memories flooding him too, from when he was a kid to the woman from the picture all through his time of being the soldier until this moment. He was grinding his teeth as he stumbled over to you. Needing to check on you, make sure you were still breathing because you went completely still on the floor.

He was the man from the picture. You closed your eyes and tried to conjure it up in your head to compare it to the man in front of you and you stilled your body where it was to concentrate. You felt when he softly placed two of his fingers on your pulse to make sure you were alive and when he did your eyes shot open. Staring right at him, a memory popped in your head and so you decided you should do what you did in the memory.

Slowly, you moved your hand up to his face. You could see him watching you closely, making sure you couldn’t catch him off guard to kill him, when you cupped his cheek. His eyes shot back to yours and held you in place. Placing your other hand on his other cheek, you assume he had memories too and they told him the same.

La-la-la-la-la-la-la.

But when he placed his second hand on your cheek, you didn’t expect to remember every little thing you did all these years. It made your heart hurt and you wrapped your arms around his back and cried into his neck. “Bucky, I’m sorry! I’m so so sorry!”

He held you. Held you close and wasn’t letting go anytime soon. “I’ve got you, Y/N. You’re okay. We’re okay.” He repeated it over and over again until you calmed down.

“What are we gonna go, Buck? They are gonna want their two greatest assets back. I don’t want to forget you again. Please say you have a plan.” You hiccupped out. There wasn’t any way in hell you were going to lose him again.

“We won’t go back, okay? I’m not leaving you again. We run and fight, like we always have. But this time, we do it together okay? I always remembered you, you know? All these years, it’s always been you. God, I love you, Y/N.” He assured you. For hours he made sure you understand it was you and him against the world.

“I remembered you too, Buck. Always. Even when they tried their hardest to get you out of my mind, a piece of you always stuck around. I love you too. I love you too, Buck.”

La-la-la-la-la-la-la.

What you both weren’t expecting, is your third partner in crime to be alive too. He was alive, and would have been hurt beyond repair or dead, because he was the mission. He didn’t know you were alive, but when he found yours and Buck’s apartment, he was shocked silent. You giggled and chirped out, “Little Stevie Rogers, still kicking ass and saving his two best friends when we truly need it.” And boy, did you and Bucky need all the help you could get to take down Hydra, which you all did. With the help of Stevie’s new team.

A couple months after Hydra was gone, Stevie took you both back to the willow. He showed you that Rebecca had buried him there, along with you and Bucky. A wooden sign was hanging there on the tree above where you were laying to rest. The best three people who chose the world over themselves. Long live the three musketeers. Mr. and Mrs. Y/N and Bucky Barnes, and Mr. Stevie Rogers. May your souls join together in another life.

Bucky wrapped an arm around your waist and across Steve’s shoulder just taking in all that’s happened over the last seventy years. It’s silent until you hear Stevie crow out, “Becky always knew how to hit us all in the gut to make the tears fall.” You let out a loud garbled laugh as you began to both laugh and cry. Nodding your head along with Bucky, he proudly praised, “she sure did punk, she also knew we would never be separated even in death.”

You finally proclaimed, “although I hate how we all got our second chance to be here together, I’m just glad it happened. Now let’s go make Rebecca and our family proud and let’s save the world.”

That’s how you find yourself, your fiancé, and your best friend today. Fighting for each other, fighting for your new-found friends, fighting for love. You and Bucky haven’t touched any whiskey since things went bad for you both. In those times of needing to be numb, you turn to each other and let the other take it all away. But at the end of each day, there was one question that always crossed your mind.

La-la-la-la-la-la-la.

Who knew three kids from Brooklyn, who happened to be best friends, would be alive at 100 years old and still kicking ass together?

#RS2kMCUchallenge #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes #reader insert #angst #bucky barnes x you #eventual fluff #winter soldier x reader #steve rogers #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes imagine #eventual happy ending #rae writes

[solidburnreturned]

by popular demand, here is my oc chatter regarding stuff like relationships n random character traits. its rly long oops but i divided it by character at least lmao,, these are all things that i think id also wanna use if i ever use these characters as humans (which i def will at some point honestly)

- i thinkkkk i want toad and pike to date. toad would come across pike in their lagoon one day while hes wandering around on another wonked exploration and pike is like hey lol :B with their pointy teeth and long ass hair and toad is like :0 he just sits and talks with pike for hours and comes by a few times a week to hang out with them. they fall in LOVE

- fred and lani are def gonna date too. two butches who use he/him pronouns fuck yeah? they have a powerful relationship. mega BDE. power couple. not a lot of pda but alone together theyre both very loving and tender, its a vulnerability thing for both of them. like lani is very cool and can be either stoic or borderline obnoxious while fred is punkish. fred is very head over heels for lani tho 

- mardi n berg.....complicated....i gotta figure out how they actually end up together. berg is a jogger and mardi is a piercer/tattoo artist so that doesnt....make them line up very much in that department. ill think about it more and figure something out. itll probably have something to do with berg’s nose stripes and eye rings

- also side note on mardi......i want his backstory to include a grey period set off by his brother being eaten when they were both young at the troll tree. like he becomes angry and depressed, sorta like branch, his tattoos that he gives himself the only color on his body, until he learns to let go and his colors come back (high key this was inspired by 21 savage, mardi’s voice claim, and the line in his new song A Lot “my brother lost his life and it turned me to a beast”). ill develop this idea further but i just wanted to get it written down

- bismuth.......unsure. they had a crush on pepper and kept trying to ask her out until she came out to them as a lesbian, then they were like :’) but theyre ride or die theyre not gonna be an ass to her because they cant date her. they just care a lot about her. its like icarly

- gazpacho and jupiter CUTE two small trans trolls in That Love. i need to develop them more but. theyre just cute 

- talia is still a little too new for me to develop her......but im thinkin about it...

- kinda same with ernie and olive. they kinda mostly just exist as cute babby characters right now? if anything olive is a trouble maker and ernie is a chatterbox

- clem and thursday also fuckin cute as hell......clem was a nervous wreck asking thursday out but theyve been together like ever since, which is more than a few years. they have a rly cute gentle lovey dovey relationship. thursday is usually hanging around up on her gf’s shoulder giving her kisses on the cheek

- bea and crystal.......adorabl relationship......crystal is another character thats kinda nervous but bea is so chill n confident is helps calm her down. theyre both trans and love the hell out of each other. rly slow n steady relationship, bea is very patient

- pj and marcus!!!! dumb mlm rep relationship. pj is so so gay for marcus he can barely comprehend it. its a dumb ego boost for marcus but hes also very in love with pj, he just expresses it in a weird cocky way idk marcus is a nerd. i need to make more content for them i think about these two way more than it seems

- dwight!! he has a boat. he lives on the boat.....ive thought about maybe pairing him with toad and pike. deciding on his voice claim has been the most difficult thing ever

- kass and current HELL yeah buff gf and tol gf......they spar with swords and wrestle for fun and hang out at the beach a lot. kass fuckin loves the gem on current’s back. i gotta make more content for them 

- celia......i wanna do more with celia. friends with berg probs theyre both sporty. shes just a sweet giant troll who loves mushrooms. i gotta pair her with someone whose palette goes nicely with her pastels 

- carrot and harriet are literally cricket and tilly from big city greens just older. yeehaw siblings. havent thought about relationship stuff with harriet yet.....i think she also needs ANOTHER redesign her colors are just too heavy still. maybe if i can make her colors compliment celia’s that could work as a pairing? hm hm.....carrot tho is dating ford’s oc rye theyre gentle country gays

- rainer. hm. i dont think theyre rly the dating type......theyre just chill with being them. they just wanna swim and be funny

- hammond and andromeda are probs two of my least developed characters.....hammond still needs a redesign. he might be cute to pair with walter, theyre around the same age. andromeda tho i have no idea. she might be a nice pairing with eve? if i ever feel like pairing her with someone...who knows. eve is very carefree and might find andromeda’s energy too intense

- radish i wanna make more content for!! i rly like her a lot....i think shes another troll who isnt interested in dating. shes very focused on being a chef instead. loves her friends a lot!

- mack and pepper 2gether 4ever obvs......they have a relationship that gets richer with age for sure

- im just gonna ramble about mack. i thinkkkkkkk i wanna make her half latina? columbian specifically. she doesnt quite read as white and i didnt make her with the intention of making her white. anyway i love mack a whole lot and should really develop her backstory more. its not rly as like...””tragic”” or whatever as pepper’s i know that but she def has layers. i wanna give her whole family more depth. she has a very complicated relationship with her own feelings and motivations that i need to think about more fully. my powerful femme tho i lov her

- mack’s parents, robin and champagne, i need to like....think about them more. they have kinda a comedic relationship thats sorta inspired by roger rabbit and jessica rabbit. robin is a very caring, gentle troll who’s very smart and cares a lot about his nursing responsibilities in the village. champagne is very relaxed and the “voice of reason” character of the family. she loves a good party and has her party planning down to a science. both are very successful power parents. kickass family

- i already talked about topaz and marney in a separate post but i still love them both so much. big wesbiabs

- pepper....pebber. im gonna talk about her the most obviously gfhjdkrs i wanna talk about her mental health i feel like i think about it a lot but i never write about it explicitly? this is gonna be long oops hgjfksd she has depression and ptsd stemming from the trauma of her crash...im thinking she also has adhd and thats just something shes always had. her depression rly got heavy during her recovery and right after like...she hated being bed/housebound and felt rly powerless to her situation and just let it eat at her until her personality had actually changed considerably. like extroverted wild child rebel to introverted, soft-spoken sulker. this got better with time but she still is pretty introverted, just turned her moodiness into chill energy. 

- she has bad depression habits like letting dishes, old food, laundry, or just stuff pile up in her room until it gets overwhelming and she spends like two days just manically cleaning; or staying in bed for way longer than she should and messing with her hygiene; or eating way more or way less than she should eat in a day. just stuff thats hard to completely break out of when youre recovering. her color is pretty consistently the dark red but if shes having a particularly rough day she might look a little paler, or like a muddy brick color at her worst. thats kinda rare tho

- her ptsd is the thing she hates the most. for a while it made her feel very weak and she’d beat herself up over being traumatized by the crash which was obviously not helpful to her mental state but she was really all over the place during her bodily recovery. its part of the reason why she started working out, she wanted to reclaim some sort of feeling of strength and power that she felt she’d lost completely. she still gets really frustrated with this feeling of loss but she gets a lot of support from loved ones which has helped her not self-blame so much. her ptsd manifests mostly as nightmares/insomnia, chronic headaches/stomachaches, intrusive thoughts and sometimes flashbacks. the nightmares are what rly get to her, she really doesnt get a lot of good sleep and it can get to the point where she just doesnt want to sleep sometimes and she’ll stay awake until she crashes hard

- her scars used to be a big trigger for her ptsd, which is why she has her bangs covering the one on her face and wears long pants (her knee braces are too bulky for pants and would force her to wear shorts which would force her to expose her scars). she just. really really hates them. this is something she struggles with for a majority of her life

- once she and mack start going steady with their dating and start consistently sleeping in the same bed, pepper starts to sleep better. she still has nightmares that wake her up at least weekly, but having mack there to comfort her (whether she wakes mack up accidentally or if mack is already awake) helps a TON with getting her back to sleep soundly. it also just helps her sleep in general to have that comforting, loving presence in her bed snuggled up to her ;w; mack is a big help in general with pepper’s mental health, pushing pepper to make better, healthier choices and get out in the village more and have fun. mack for sure does not “”cure”” pepper of anything but shes a very positive light in pepper’s life that helps her pull thru tough times!

- i love all my goofy trolls so much. its so fun to just chill and blab about them to relax between working on big projects ;o; ty if u cared enough to read this whole thing ur so rad

#writing about my hooligan troll ocs is so relaxing #like im not overly invested its just something fun to think about and thats just very nice #txt #oc #oc rambles #ill tag it as that so i dont lose this #trolls #long post

[titleknown]

5 Properties Funko Should Adapt In Their “Savage World” Line.

Oh Funko, Funko, Funko. Like Disney, they are an indisputably evil company that has weaved itself into every corner of our fandom life, except infinitely less consistently good in their productions.

Not only did they put smaller artist-driven vinyls out of business with floods of licensed material that would make that asshole Theodor Adorno jizz himself with vindication in Hell, but the POP line that did so was largely ugly; viscerally unpleasant garbage.

But, in a stroke of being-decent, they've recently decided to go a different way with their licensed figures, a pastiche of the old He-Man-style barbarian figures (Or their Remco and Galaxy Hole knockoffs if you're willing to get more obscure) in their Savage World line, in a way that actually looks cool and clever!

They're starting with Mortal Kombat figures and planning on continuing with horror-movie themed ones and actual Conan-licensed ones, and I thought I might as well bring up five properties I'd love to see if them use! Because if you can't beat 'em, send suggestions to their vast and dark empire!

Though, word to the wise, I won't be doing any of the superhero lines because A) That's kind of a gimmee and B) That's not the most fun to write about.

Now, anyhoo, here’s they are past the break...

Golden Girls

While I have not seen the show, though everyone I know who has says it is a treasure, I will say it deserves a line for the reason of Rule of Funny.

Because, would the comedic adventures in the love lives of four old ladies seem incongruous with the idea of barbarian figures? Yes. Would that incongruity be comedy gold and lead people to go “Holy shit, I gotta buy this”? Very yes.

It's just the right blend of goofy joke item and legit fun idea that it comes off more sincere than; say; Hipster Disney Princess Funko Pops. Plus, I think we at least want that Bea Arthur figure to pose with our Deadpool.

Steven Universe

Oh Steven Universe. Once one of the leading lights on Cartoon Network, collapsed into a wailing and gnashing of network mismanagement and Discourse that would puzzle Foucalt's ghost. Which probably will not cease until they bring back Bismuth and hopefully don't fuck it up this time given one of the writers issued a mea-culpa for that ep a while ago, and apparently the cosmic stuff is getting back on track so that's nice but ANYWAY, I'M GETTING OFF TRACK!

Thing about the Gems is, the base concept feels like it would be really easy to aesthetically re-jigger into barbarians fighting on a primitive world, alien women of light against their own imperialistic kind in shards and thunder. Hell, when you put it that way it could very easily feel like an actual toyline concept from the 80s.

I could easily see the most prominent Gems re-designed like that, maybe with light-piping for their gems and Steven done as a smaller Orko/Kowl-type figure packaged with a Ruby. And plus, it'd at least be a fun AU to see done in actual action figure form. GEM BARBARIANS Y'ALL!

Golden Axe/Altered Beast

I make this a two-fer because they fit so well with each other aesthetically that, were I to revive the both of them, it'd be a crossover, but I DIGRESS. There had to be at least one game-related entry on this list, and I think these two would be the most perfect for that.

The aesthetics of both of those games, whether it be the peplum Greek-yiffthology of Altered Beast or the Valejo-inspired pulp fantasy of Golden Axe, the two lines would be a no-brainer in terms of combining 80s nostalgia with that kind of aesthetic vibe in a way that taps into that nostalgia in an endless loop!

Just produce the three main Golden Axe heroes, Death Adder, the Altered Beast in wolf form, Neff the Rhino, and one other, and you're; pardon the pun; golden!

If you wanted to dip further into the Sega well, a burly barbarian Billy Hatcher would be hilarious, and you could even get some nonbinary representation with a version of NiGHTs using one of the repurposed femme bodies!

Dragonball Z/Fist of the North Star/Jojo's Bizarre Adventure

Okay, these are all in a tie because they all share a genre of “Classic muscleman Shonen,” and it would be such an amazing aesthetic to blend with the comically-ripped MotU-type figures that it'd probably happened had they been contemporaneous.

Like, “Goku and Kenshiro in He-Man scale/style” should be all I need to convince you, but it also lends itself to so many fun gimmicks it's not even funny, Jojo characters in two-packs with their Stands, launching energy attacks on DBZ figures, exploding action on the Fist of the North Star figures for you to pithily say “Omae Wa Shinderu” as you fold them open to reveal the goresplosion!

An Original IP!

Okay, this one's a bit of a cheat, but I thought it might be a good capper for the list. Original toylines are nearly dead these days, with more and more of them having to have a pre existing “sell” to do it since the 90s, like the way Mel Birnkrant's Pets of Frankenstein got turned into AHHHHHH! Real Monsters.

But, what if the “sell” were compatibility in terms of play/display-pattern with that larger line of licensed figures? It'd be a great way to diversify, and maybe even actually give something back to the artistic community after; yanno; making the vinyl toy market a desolate wasteland; by hiring them to do design work!

On Tumblr alone I'd recommend @witnesstheabsurd and @bogleech as shoo-ins for that kind o thing, and from established classic toy artists, I'd bet folks like Mel Birnkrant, @turtlemilk and @timclarketoys wouldn't say no if Funko asked them to work on a new IP!

And, at the very least, I'd buy it! Would you all?

Are there more that'd be good ideas for those kinds of liens? Sure, and I plan to make a follow-up in the future. Heck, I plan to make a follow-up based on what horror icons I hope get in the horror subline, so be on the lookout for that!

Also, if you want to support independent artists making similar figures, check out Zoloworld's lines of toys at underworldfigures.com/! While they're quite a bit more expensive, due to being a smaller line from a small company, they do have interchangable limbs that can be popped and swapped, so if you have the extra cash to plunk down, maybe support them too!

#funko #savage worlds #savage world #steven universe #golden girls #dragonball #dragonball z #fist of the north star #hokuto no ken #jojo's bizarre adventure #funko pop #golden axe #altered beast #funko savage world

[desireebarefootblog]

Copying Things from my Profile

Waggles fingers, Hi there!

I’ve discovered a thing that anyone in SL who makes use of the Picks section of their profile already knows...  There is only 10 places for different Pick subjects.  It’s really intended as a “word of mouth” marketing for places and stuff around SL and not for small essays on life in SL.  That’s what Blogging is for!

So from the front page of the Desiree profile.  Beyond the finger waggling (which is so different from waving a single finger back and forth.  Envision all four fingers of my right hand and the thumb giving the waggling finger wave to you). I was in second life a little less than 10 years ago the first time ‘round for a two year Second Life.  Put a pin in that, I’ll likely reference that period of my time there in future blog posts.  The things I understand about myself *now* started *then* even though I didn’t know it.

Second Life changed a *lot* in the time that I was away, so I walked in to a brand new learning curve.  I came back on March 21 and it has only been the past week when I’ve become minimally proficient with using the tools in the world to do *most* of what I want to do.  And I’m still learning so much about basic things.

I’m a roleplayer at heart.  Have been for my whole Real World Life.  Second Life has played into that strength really well.  Worldbuilding, using language to paint pictures in the mind of others. Presenting a consistent in-world personality.  (It’s a little different for my boifriend Lizzie, she gets more of the person using the keyboard).

From “Role Playing with Desi”, which I’ll keep on my profile and I’ll share with you terrific people;

“I am very talky.  I vastly perfer chatting by typing because my real life voice does not match how Desiree sounds in my head.  The operative word here is immersion.  Desi is me... I am Desi.. she is as much a real part of me as my thoughts and life is.  So please, when playing with me.. try not to break immersion.  I'll try to stay in-character and in-world too.”

The thought continues in the next section “Desi’s turn-ons” (ooooOOOoooh.. could this be about SEX???  yes.  Yes I’m letting you know what I like during sex, because when I’m chatting with someone, a long conversational silence is rare, but during sexy times, there is a far greater probability that my partner is otherwise occupied.)

“I like piña colada and getting caught in the rain I'm not into yoga (which is a lie.. I totally did Bikram for a year and need to get back in practice) and I have half-a-brain.

I love sexy-times as much as everybody.  For me, I love being flirty, young and femme.  I respond to my partner's arousal, so be free.. tell me what you're wanting when we get hott..  Desi is my subbie side and I need feedback.  I love it when I try something and my partner responds positively.  Don't leave a girl hanging in silence.  I gotta know if I'm touching your happy brain place.”

Did I start my turn-ons with a reference to the 1979 Rupert Holmes anthem of disco-era swinger culture “Escape”?  HELL YES I DID AND I’M PROUD I DID IT!!

That section is likely being removed from the Profile, to here, and there’s likely an expanded blog coming (heh heh.. seewhatIdidthere?  Sex? Coming? I crack me up!) since keeping the flow of dialogue going when having sexy time is really critical.  Otherwise it’s just watching an interactive pornie cartoon with invisible, random strangers and masturbating alone, while that could be a thrill, it doesn’t feed my *needs*.

Were gonna close out this post with a word about human peoples whose Primary Language doesn’t match mine (English).  Second Life reaches everywhere the Internet does, so there are people from the whole wide world hanging out there and playing and talking.

“I promise I'll be undertanding and patient.  I appreciate that you're playing with me.  Engilsh is my first language and the only one I read and write well.  I totally understand the difficulty of communicating across languages.  Try not to be self-conscious if our role-play is mostly variations on what the translator gives us.“

I’m still not happy with that phrasing.  It’s a bit cringy and super Anglo-centric.  It needs refined, but the thought comes from a good place inside me.  I’m aware that English isn’t the only language in our big wide world.  I’m aware that English isn’t the only language in my *neighborhood*.  People live, think, and use Second Life in their own language.  I’m thrilled when I get to chat with them I am having a moment with a human person from a place outside my experience.  I’m absolutely conscious and aware that my excited, rapid fire English peppered with slang and phrasing that’s misspelled to get across ‘mah feelz’ rather than something Google Translate would grok might not get my point across to someone whose nuances are different from mine.

Ok, I’m spinning down a rabbit hole now.  That’s another new blog post for the future.

Please stay safe

Wash your hands

I love you

You are worth keeping safe.

#secondlife

[muffindragon227]

2, 7, 26, 37, 49, 52, 53 - welp I think that's a little too much! From the writing ask! ^^

2. Favorite part of writing.Creating back story and world building. I love thinking about what shaped my characters into who they are, so that I can better understand why they do what they do, and I love building a world and thinking about all the crazy little details that make it up.

7. Favorite author.I honestly don’t know. I used to have favourites, but I’ve grown out of Heinlein and I’m glad for it. I guess I’ll say Jane Austen. I enjoy Kelley Armstrong too, or at least her women of the other world series. I’m still looking for someone I love unconditionally though.

26. Standalone or series, and why?STANDALONE!!!!! I suppose that’s a bit of a surprise since I intend to write a trilogy but I have a huge issue with picking up series that I get into and then slowly fall out of love with as I realize where it’s going, or that it’s not going anywhere. There are series I absolutely love, but they’re few and far between and all to often successful standalones get turned into series. I find authors who manage to tell their story in one book tend to succeed at it.

37. Most inspirational quote you’ve ever read or heard that’s still important to you."You end up making good stuff by making a bunch of bad stuff, which is why everybody who’s blocked, the reason they’re blocked is because they are committing the cardinal sin of assuming their job is to make something good. You’ll never make that. Your definition of good will change as you get better. It will always be something you’re not capable of. Whereas you know you can make something that sucks. You live in terror of it. So, do that. You’re also a very critical person. You’re very critical of your own work, other people’s work. So make something that sucks and then criticize it, and fix it. That is a much better way to get something done than this idea that, you know, you’re gonna use your brain, which is so special, you’re gonna make all the right choices ‘cause you’re such a great, great person."— Dan Harmon (via digital-femme)

49. What do you find the hardest to write in a story, the beginning, the middle or the end?Middles are evil. I know how where I start, and I won’t start something if I don’t know the end, but middles.... Middles are nothing but landmarks on a map with no roads and sometimes I find myself stuck in a bog, or having to climb a mountain that I had no idea was there just to get to the place I know I need to go next and sometimes I find that were I’m headed just can’t be reached or I miss entire sections of road that I was supposed to use but can’t because I never got there. Sometimes you gotta make a whole knew map because of them, and often times they change the beginning and the end. But middles are where the story happens so it only makes sense that they would be the hardest.

52. How did writing change you?Already answered.

53. What does writing mean to you?Writing is the passion I never saw coming. As a kid I wasn’t great at English class. I always had my head in the clouds and stories in my mind but I struggled to elaborate and take the image in my head and put it in words, I had no talent, and no grace. And as a preteen I discovered poetry, and it was like a light bulb went off in my head and suddenly I was good at English. But the stories in my head were ones that bled my emotions all across a page and everything else drowned in those emotions, and the stories bled dry after a dozen pages or so. I didn’t have it in me to write more, and I told myself I was just a short story writer. I stopped writing after high school. I picked it up again as an adult after months and months of helping others write and plot their own stories. I found I had time on my hands and way too many ideas in my head, and I didn’t really care if the writing was any good because it was just fanfiction. And then, slowly, I started to relearn the craft, and slowly I started to care, and then the stories, small little stories, started to grow. And before I knew it I had novels in my head, and I felt compelled to put one down on paper, even though I’d sworn I could never write a novel. Writing for me has been an evolution of self, and it has become a means to prove myself wrong. Before the end of the year I will have done what I once thought was impossible, and starting next year I intend to dive in and see just what it is I’m truly capable of.

#personal #questionnaire answers #about me #writing #chanting-to-u

[chorusfm]

Typesetter

Typesetter recently signed to 6131 Records and announced their sophomore record – it’s called Nothing Blues and it’s a masterclass in anthemic punk rock. I spoke to Alex Palermo, bassist/vocalist, and Marc Bannes, guitarist/vocalist, about writing the album and what the band did in the four years since their debut. Nothing Blues is out October 26 and is available for preorder through 6131’s store. You just got off a tour with Against Me!, right? How was that? Sounds awesome. Marc: Very, very awesome. Alex: It was very cool. We actually toured with them last year for a short run too, and they’re just the best. We’re very grateful. Just the fucking best. Marc: Pretty much any chance we get to play shows with them is some of the most fun shows we get to play. Your last full-length release was Wild’s End in 2014. What has Typesetter been up to in the four years since? Marc: Well, that was our last full-length, but we put out a split with a band called Living Room from Brooklyn and we put out an EP. Since that time, we’ve gone through a couple member changes. We have a different drummer than we had on the Wild’s End LP and we had a multi-instrumentalist for a time as well. We’ve gone through a lot of changes and honestly it’s kind of a different band now than the one that put out Wild’s End. The core three of us – me, Alex, and Kyle – have remained the same throughout the whole run of the band. Why’d you decide to jump from Black Numbers to 6131? Marc: Black Numbers was super awesome and Dave from Black Numbers remains a good friend of ours, he’s always been super supportive, but it just made sense. They were winding down their operations as far as signing new bands and putting out new releases, stuff like that, and moving towards being a legacy label. We didn’t have any contractual obligations, so we decided to look around for other options and see if there were any other labels that would be a good fit for this record. We reached out to a variety, but 6131 was at the top of our list, and I was pretty excited when they got back to us and we started talking about working together. I feel like both Black Number and 6131 are two of the most under-appreciated labels around. Marc: Yeah, Black Numbers had some really awesome bands. There was a while there when they were pretty aggressively signing new bands and doing a really awesome job. Some things happened that were totally out of their control, caused them to slow down a little bit. 6131, too, they’ve just never put out a bad record. Their whole catalog is really cool. I wanted to ask about the Typesetter #5 EP you put out a few years ago, because “Monogamy II” was on that, and it sounds like you re-recorded it for Nothing Blues. Alex: Yeah, we did. I’m curious why you chose to include that on here after you’d already released it. Marc: It’s one of my favorite songs we’ve written to play live. We’ve played it at probably every show since it was written. It’s usually the first song we play, and it’s super fun. I really like playing it, singing it, and I felt like the song deserved a better recording. I just thought that it deserved more attention, that we could revisit and re-record it to give it the treatment it deserves. That’s the only song we’ve ever re-recorded. Knowing that song’s been around for two or so years, how long’ve you been writing Nothing Blues for? Marc: Oh, that song’s gotta be the oldest on the record. Some of the others – “Real Conversations with Imaginary Friends,” for example – some have been kicking around for a couple years. You know, just due to member changes and other life changes we didn’t have a chance to record an LP any sooner than we recorded this one [laughs]. A couple others are a couple years old, I think the song “Viva” we finished a couple weeks before we went to record. We wrote between fifteen and twenty songs over a three-year period and all of those contributed to what ended up being on the record. Last question about “Monogamy II” – what’s the relationship between that song and “Monogamy I”? And don’t say the relationship is monogamous. Marc: I would say that I think the two are about very similar things. I enjoy playing both live because they’re positive and hopeful songs. They’re not directly about the same thing or feeling or circumstances or anything, but it goes hand in hand to me. I don’t know. I can’t thematically separate the two. Both sets of lyrics were borne out of the same page of notes at the beginning of the writing process. I think they’ve always been linked. It seems like “White Noise” is about Don Delillo’s novel White Noise. Alex: Yeah, Kyle, our other guitarist who isn’t on the phone right now, he wrote that song. I’m pretty sure that yeah the title is lifted from that book.Kyle’s done that in the past, based songs off books. He’s kind of a bookworm. Marc: I think there’s a lyric in the song that’s a callback to the book, but I don’t wanna say for sure. Alex: I think I recall him saying that, yeah. I think the bridge of the song. There’s a line in “Real Conversations with Imaginary Friends” I was curious about, where you say, “I meant to call you Mary Lee.” I was curious who that refers to. Marc: That’s my mom. Hi mom. And then the last line of “Viva” – “you can all fuck off in the air” – is either a Violent Femmes or National reference, yeah? Marc: Yeah, the National, yeah. Why’d you decide to put that in there? Alex: ‘Cause the National rules. Marc: Yeah [laughs] it’s because they’re awesome. Nah, I don’t know. Wasn’t a conscious decision or something I thought about intentionally doing. Not even something I thought about intentionally at all. That lyric just really made sense at the end of that song, in context and with everything else that song is about. The National does rule, though. We listen to them a lot. You two have any favorite songs on the record, or anything else you’re particularly proud of on here? Alex: Three tracks, in my personal view, that really stand out are “Technicolor,” which has my friend Lydia Loveless on it, who’s been my friend for a really long time, and it’s one of our most diverse moments as a band – challenging us as more than a punk band – and then I think “Monogamy I” is cool and my favorite song to play live, and then “Viva,” which is cool live because we extend the ending to really go crazy. I song I think is probably going to go under the radar a bit, buried at the back of the record, is “Marigold.” Kinda shows our punk roots but is still cool and refreshing. Marc: Yeah, for me, “Technicolor” is the one that pops out. I really like everything on the record, but that song from its very beginning, I knew was really different from our other stuff – more poppy, but more brooding. It’s a slow burn. The production is fucking awesome. Our drummer Matt played his drum parts twice and for most of the song there’s a drum kit pan hard left and a drum kit pan hard right so he’ll start a fill on one kit and finish it on the other. It has by far the most tracks of any other song on the record, like double the tracks [laughs]. Alex: Which is funny, ’cause it doesn’t sound like it does, which I love. Marc: I mixed the record, and me and Matt talked about percussion ideas and I had a clear idea how I wanted that song to turn out and I’m really happy with it. If there’s anything else you wanna say, go for it. Marc: This record’s been a long time in the making and I’m stoked for everybody to listen to it. Hope you enjoy. Alex: Thanks for talking to us, we really appreciate it. --- Please consider supporting us so we can keep bringing you stories like this one. ◎ https://chorus.fm/interviews/typesetter/