#crackerjack timing

[arthrobug]

Of course✨

Genuine question are y’all still interested in utmv content from me …

[zosonils]

i never actually did a faves bingo when it was the hip and trendy new thing to do i don't think? so here's one i scraped together today :] jesus christ when it's laid out like this i really am never beating the green guy enjoyer allegations lmao

[teomuchtohandle]

The weather stripping on the door had ripped, so I grabbed the blanket from the couch to lay across it to keep the cold out.

Unfortunately I chose Cracker's favorite blanket. She chose to lay on it on the ground and cold instead of the comfy couch.

The door is fixed and she is happy now!

[kunasthiast]

wagyu nights

you had exactly three things on your to-do-list that monday morning. yes, a monday. satan’s favorite day. the kind of monday where you wake up already annoyed, already hot, already feral. 

number 1. drink your overpriced espresso from starbucks that makes your heart do backflips and your soul exit your body. you only ordered it because that goddamn espresso song’s been living in your head rent-free for weeks. 

number 2. avoid signing another one of gojo’s illegal, morally questionable, legally actionable birthday cards. last time you did, his lawyer called you personally.

number 3. get a tattoo right above your ass crack and surprise your husband like the loving, stable wife you pretend to be in public.

because why the fuck not? 

you were thirty. rich. hot. emotionally stable (depending on the hour). married to that pink-haired demon of a man for five goddamn years – willingly and obsessively. no kids, yet. no regrets. just an unhinged, borderline feral, mutually destructive love story and an ever-growing collection of in-laws and nosy strangers asking, “so when are the babies coming?”

to which you always replied, smiling sweetly, creepily, and with too much eye contact: “we’re practicing really hard.”

and if there’s one thing sukuna adored even more than your face, your attitude, or your uncanny ability to outdrink him at every celebratory orgies of capitalism, it was –

“your fuckin’ back dimples,” he growled that morning, voice still hoarse, from where he lay starfished across your bed. shirtless. legs splayed. tattoos on full display like a fucking warning sign.

you stood in front of the full-length mirror, shirt lifted just enough to peek at your lower back, contemplating the most deranged monday decision possible: a sternum piece? an underboob tat? nah. a fucking tramp stamp.   

“what about them?” you asked absently, twisting for a better view, ass poked out, looking like a possessed girl in an exorcism movie.

his eyes raked over you like you were his personal religion (yes, you are), “they’re my favorite handles.”

“for what?”

“sin. more specifically, you bent over the bathroom counter-sin. five-star tasting menu kinda shit, babe.”

“romantic,” you deadpanned, still deciding between a cybersigilism tat, a cute hello kitty tramp stamp, or that fucking succubus design you’ve been manifesting since last month’s hormonal spiral.

but by the time your fourth sip of espresso kicked in and your third brain cell screamed YOLO – you were already texting yuki for a walk-in.  

because nothing says married life like getting a surprise ass tattoo and flashing it at dinner like a goddamn crackerjack prize. 

by noon, you were half in your sweatpants, wearing his hoodie over a crop top, sunglasses indoors, phone in one hand, car keys in the other. you looked like a rich housewife fleeing a crime scene. 

then, of course, sukuna came out of his office room, voice still scratchy from some hellish meeting (and yes, you definitely heard the phrase “who the fuck approved this?” echoed through the door). tattoos peeked out from under his rolled-up sleeves. he looked good. he always does. dangerously so. and he definitely came out because he sensed the chaos radiating off you like a sixth sense.

“where the fuck you going today, baby?”

you froze mid-sprint at the door.

“uhh… nowhere,” you lied, immediately. “just… errands, love.”

he stared at you.

you smiled.

he squinted harder, “… you only say ‘errands’ when you’re gonna make a dramatic and irreversible decision.”

“what?! noooo! do i look like i make bad decisions?” 

“baby. last time you said ‘errands’ you came home with a cat and a navel piercing. so yes. yes, you do.”

“well, you love both,” you shrugged, opening the door.

he cocked a brow. “i do. but if you come back with a fucking dog, a nipple ring, or another limited-edition cursed item from that thrift store you claim ain’t haunted, we’re gonna have a serious talk, baby.”

“fine,” you grinned, blowing him a kiss.

he narrowed his eyes like a man who knew his wife was about to commit arson, metaphorical or otherwise. “wait. hold up –”

ding.

his phone lit up. followed by another. and another.

“fucking hell,” he muttered, reading whatever fresh corporate nightmare just got dumped on him (his own company = his own chaos = karma’s kiss on the forehead). and just like that – fate (and capitalism) intervened.

“baby, i gotta take this. don’t do anything –”

click.

door’s already closed. too late. 

you were gone. off into the wild, espresso-fueled unknown with a dream, a credit card, and the dangerous confidence of a woman who pays her own bills and gets off on impulsive decisions. 

—

thirty-two minutes later.

yuki took one look at you from her desk and said, “okay, what are we permanently etching into your flesh today?”

“i need something that says crazily in love but also i know where the bodies are buried,” you said, peeling off your hoodie. “thinking tramp stamp. succubus, cybersigilism style. red ink.‘kuna’s initials. maybe a heart in the middle. definitely unholy.”

“hmm, classic monday,” she nodded, already grabbing her ipad to draw it on the spot. “want some glitter drips?”

“yes,” you grinned, too excited for this.

“he’s gonna lose his mind,” you grinned, high off espresso, reckless affection, and the promise of delightful spousal torment.

“in a good way or a divorce way?”

“yes.”

forty-five minutes later.

you were face down, ass-up on yuki’s table, hair in a messy bun, chewing gum like it owed you money.

“‘kay, hold real still,” yuki said, gloves snapping on. “‘bout to tattoo the most feral love note of all time on your ass.”

“god bless,” you whispered, as the buzz of the machine started.

two hours later, your phone buzzed like a possessed bee on the tray next to you. texts. missed calls. a voicemail that probably just said “baby” in ten different emotional tones.

but you ignored it, because sukuna would find out soon enough. and please, your marriage survived worse. like the time you accidentally sexted the family group chat (your side). 

or that time you thought it’d be romantic to surprise him with a homemade dinner, only to somehow set fire to the kitchen and set off the smoke detectors. sukuna waltzed in, unfazed, and ended up effortlessly whipping up a five-course meal in under an hour – leaving you sulking on the couch, watching him plate perfectly cooked dishes while you nursed a glass of wine (your only consolation being the fact that at least you hadn’t set the house on fire. this time). but then, just when you thought he was gonna give you the “i told you so” lecture, he kissed you on the cheek, gave you a hug, and murmured, “still love you, babe.”

anyway, at least the tattoo’s done. and it looks glorious as fuck.

you admired it in the mirror like it was renaissance art. well… satanic, slightly unhinged renaissance art.

a little heart with “R.S” in the middle. glowing red. framed by digital sigils and glittery hellfire drips. you looked like the cover of a cursed y2k CD and it was absolutely iconic. just what you loved.

“i’m never wearing any tops again,” you declared, pulling your sweatpants up.

“he’s either gonna fuck you into next tuesday or call a priest,” yuki said, proud of her work.

“either way, it’s a win.”

—

you didn’t go straight home after the tattoo, obviously. you were an emotionally stable adult woman with needs and responsibilities.

so after the pain and the buzz wore off a little (just for today, obvs), you stopped by paradise. ready for some retail therapy. with a necessary detour to just distract yourself from the inevitable chaos waiting for you at home.

a few hours and a few (more like 5) shopping bags later, you stopped by that place. the one with the overpriced wagyu and the mochi ice cream your husband pretends not to like but always, mysteriously, finishes. it was part guilt on not replying to his texts and calls (fine, maybe 30% avoidance), part instinct, part monday-night tradition. 

he cooks 90% of the time, but random weekdays? random weekdays like monday tonight is for takeout treaty nights.

so you picked up dinner and rolled into the driveway at exactly 9:47PM. full of caffeine, permanent ink, and deeply smug satisfaction. 

your phone buzzed with the energy of a hundred (okay, 50?) unread texts, but you had food in your hand and a hot husband waiting to yell at you (let him fucking try), so life was good.

the moment you stepped in, you immediately announced with maximum dramatic flair, “babyyy, i’m hooooome!” fully expecting to find him in his usual end-of-day poses: brooding in the kitchen, bossing someone around on the phone, or lounging on the couch with black mirror playing on the tv and whisky on hand. 

and, of course – there he was. shirtless, barefoot, and tattoos out, as usual. leaning against the kitchen island with a glass of whisky on his hand and a phone in the other (probs, terrorizing his assistant). his crimson eyes, sharp as ever, were already scanning you with that knowing look. 

“you’re late,” sukuna said as he ended the phone call, voice deceptively calm.

you just grinned, kicking the door closed behind you and waltzing in too happily. “told ya i had errands, baby.”

his eyes flicked to the five shopping bags hanging off your arms like battle trophies. “did you rob a boutique or black out in dior again?”

“bit of both,” you winked, dropped the bags on the floor, placed the takeout on the counter like peace offering, and kissed him on the lips. “got us dinner, daddy.”

he stared at the takeout bag like it was a peace offering from a war criminal he loved deeply, “sweetheart, what’d you do.”

“excuse me?!” you gasped, scandalized.

“you only bring home wagyu and mochi balls together when you’ve done something insane. or need to butter me up for something worse than a felony, sweetheart,” he said, already digging into the bag like wasn’t fully planning on giving you hell for ghosting him all day. “go ahead. confess.”

you just blinked at him. smiled. took the mochi ice cream container and hugged it like it was a baby kitten. “maybe i just missed my emotionally unavailable, incredibly stressed-for-today yet very hot husband and wanted to feed him like the loving wife i am.”

“uh-huh,” he muttered as he raised a brow, unimpressed. “i texted you fifty-two times. called you over twenty.”

“and i saw every single one of ‘em,” you said sweetly, pulling out plates and chopsticks. “and ignored all. with love.”

“obviously, given your non-existent replies.”

“i was processing,” you said solemnly, handing him a plate. “like a baby giraffe. learning how to walk.”

he gave you that look – one that said i both adore and fear you – and took the plate. “tell me you didn’t crash the car.”

“pfft, the car’s fine, babe.” you said.

“tell me you didn’t sign another one of gojo’s birthday cards.”

“why would i –”

he stared. you stared back. and then, just like clockwork, he reached forward and tugged at the hem of his (your) hoodie you were wearing, “baby. what is it.”

“nothing.”

“show me.”

“nope. absolutely not.”

“sweetheart.”

you bit into your mochi dramatically. chewing on it. and then very calmly turned around, lifted up your hoodie, and pulled down your sweatpants just enough to show off the new ink on the small of your back. that fucking succubus red-inked tattoo with his initials. all stylized. deadly cute. 

you didn’t need to look at him to know that he was staring.

sukuna blinked. put down his chopsticks. stared like you just pulled a gun on him. well, obvs  yeah, not literally. 

“oh, fuck,” he muttered after two seconds. 

you pulled your hoodie back down and faced him, still chewing. “like it? so freaking cute, right?”

his voice dropped. low.“you got my fuckin’ initials tattooed on your ass.”

“technically, above it.”

he exhaled like he’d seen god, “baby. what the fuck. ‘course i fuckin’ love it.”

“you’re welcome,” you said sweetly, stealing a piece of his wagyu like a menace.

he stared at you for a beat… then he started laughing. not chuckles. not that fake corporate laugh he does when he’s about to buy out someone’s soul. real, head-thrown-back, unhinged maniacal laughter your husband is capable of.

and then he said, still breathless: “fuck, baby, i love you. but the only position we’re doing for the next month is backshots.”

you picked up another mochi ball, chewed slowly, and said, like a woman casually signing a soul contract, “i mean, that’s all we can do right now anyway. tattoo aftercare, duh. can’t have friction. or—y’know—fluids.”

there was a pause.

“such a sacrifice. i’m selfless like that.”

—

which is how you found yourself bent over the fucking kitchen counter.

ass up. hoodie, crop top, and bra somewhere on the floor. tramp stamp fully on display. and your hot, undeniably feral husband was shoving his thick fucking cock in your pussy like this was his last day on earth. giving you that much deserved backshot. 

“fuck, baby. you’re so fuckin’ tight,” sukuna grunted, his teeth grazing your neck. his hands gripped your hips tightly as he pounded into you from behind, his cock stretching your tight pussy with each thrust. hitting deep and hard, so perfect. 

“mm, fuck yes, more baby more,” you moaned into the marble, eyes fluttering.

and sukuna – god, he was loud. and when he moans? he fucking moans it out. loud, unfiltered, guttural sounds right in your ear. “want more, baby?”

his words sent shivers down your spine, and you arched your back, pushing your ass against him, “mmm, harder, ‘kuna,” you nodded and begged, voice already wrecked.

he didn’t need telling twice. he slammed into you harder, relentless with forceful thrusts that had your tits bouncing with every stroke and making your toes curl. 

“shit, you’re taking me so fucking well, baby.” he growled, one hand found your clit, the other tightening around your hips. “gonna make you cum so fuckin’ hard tonight.”

your moans grew louder as he continued to hammer your pussy, the pleasure building with each powerful stroke, and very determined to make you cum hard on his cock. your moans filled the kitchen, each thrust sending you closer to the edge.

“oh god yes, yes, baby, just like that!” you cried out, feeling your climax approaching rapidly. “i’m cumming, i’m –”

sukuna shoved himself deeper, thick cock buried inside as your pussy clenched around him, milking his shaft for all it was worth. you screamed his name, back aching, and body shaking. 

“fuck baby, i love you!” he groaned, hips stuttering as he came with a loud, filthy growl. his hot seed spilling deep inside you.

you both stayed like that for a moment – breathless, trembling, and fucking grinning in the aftermath of your intense and sukuna’s selfless lovemaking. 

then he smacked your ass and said, with deep reverence, “i fucking love this pussy and that fucking tattoo.” 

“now that’s what i call romance, daddy” you said as you turn your face to look at him. his cock still very much inside you. 

yeah.

that was probably the night it happened.

the one that’d changed your life in about nine months.

but that was future you’s next challenge.

tonight, there was wagyu. mochi. your menacingly feral husband. your very smug tramp stamp. and a kitchen full of bad decisions marinated in love.

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

a/n: this is me convincing myself that tramp stamps are fucking sexy and i’m getting them as my next piece of tat this year lol also fuck I need this sukuna in my fucking life – universe, gods, angels… PLEASE hear me out

[steampunkforever]

You don't need media to be about people who are like you to related to those characters, you just need better art. You don't need art to be relatable at all to get it either, but if for some reason you only consume art that represents your specific experiences and cannot engage with it outside those parameters, you are a broken person.

I say all of this to note that Ryan Coogler's Sinners is being given a lukewarm reception by clueless critics who don't understand how to handle a film that doesn't cater to them.

Standpoint epistemology and its consequences aside, I'm not in any position to judge how racially motivated these reviewers are in panning the film, all I know is the Ryan Coogler just cemented himself as a generational talent who paid off his student loans with Marvel films and just made one of the best movies of the summer, filmed it with a crackerjack cast, and then managed to secure ownership of the entire film after the studio's 25 year ownership period ends. It's a triumph. If you can't look past the fact that the film only cast 4 white actors, I'll let you sit and think about that for awhile.

This is what Coogler calls a grilled cheese film. He's not trying anything revolutionary (other than a fantastic artist-first contract negotiation), he's just making something good. And it's really good. This is a horror film that's a period-piece stealth-musical and it absolutely rips.

Sinners is unabashedly a film expressing the unrepressed joy of making good art. It's unashamed of being a horror film, unashamed of being a good movie, unashamed of being itself. And it rules. It's a 1930s Jim Crow south vampire film that grabs you from the start and doesn't let go.

Sinners is the answer to "just watch better movies" because it rules, it's well written, well directed, with fantastic actors (Coogler continuing his longstanding partnership with his favorite little guy) and an enrapturing soundtrack. This is the better movie, and furthermore its a good time.

Go watch Sinners, I adore it.

[mysteriesmuse]

childhood trio izuku, katsuki, and y/n!! who are constantly dragged to each other things! Like, Katsuki and Izuku who both got signed up for T-ball and Pee-Wee Soccer. Katsuki who eventually got good at it and had baseball tournaments every other weekend and your parents are dragging both you and Izuku out to watch Katsuki. The sweetness of a sticky box of crackerjacks and peanuts shared as you spend dozen of weekends sitting together in the stands at his field games with the big pointer finger foam hand and corn dogs — and the everlasting hope of catching a ball. It gets close to happening once or twice, and eventually Katsuki reluctantly gives everyone in his fanclub a signed baseball from the game. It sits proudly on your bookshelves.  Katsuki who in middle school eventually gets recruited to the small wrestling team as well and so now you’re stuck in the van in between these too in the back seat and driving all the way to his other tournaments in a giant sweaty gym. All of you with folders of paperwork in your laps as you dutifully try to complete hw before the match. You and Izuku snickering behind your books as Katsuki complains about a weggie from the uniform being too tight in the crotch. And Izuku, who started winning at spelling bees at an early age; whose ramblings landed him a spot in debate club when he got older. The T-ball never really stuck for him like it did for Kacchan. Who’s got an auditorium full of overachievers and stuffy dressed people staring at their stopwatch’s that are taking down every note. The evenings where there’s a tie being grueling. The early mornings a challenge of wits as you and Katsuki used to pilfer through a dictionary together. Index fingers frantically running over the letters of the words Izuku was trying to spell as your heads nearly bump into each other. The evenings where you’d lay your head on his or your parents shoulders as you tried to stay awake . . . Momma Inko always gently patting the two of you on the shoulders when the debate is over. You and Katsuki rubbings the sleep out of your eyes as you run off to congratulate Izuku. The late night milkshakes in the car as he continue talking about all the exciting little quirks of the game. You nodding along w The hours spent where Izuku would practice his word count at the kitchen table afterschool. You and Katsuki, used to the new routine, now bring headphones to drown out the noise of him practicing his talking so that you both can focus on studying. And y/n who’d gotten signed up for dance classes the same time the boys were busy attempting miniature versions of sports. Eventually sticking with it and finding that she’s naturally talented at looking graceful across the ballet stage. Always having Izuku and Katsuki come out to the performances and sitting with all the parents. The two of them always forced to dress formally like proper audience members and each of them clutching and handing you a bouquet of their own choosing when you arrive from backstage. Izuku’s classic green button up and eagerly handing you a sweetly wrapped ghetto bouquet as he comments on the ballet. Katsuki who comes out in slacks and loafers and sheepishly hands you a classic bouquet of red roses with his sweaty hands. Sometimes even getting you a matching bouquet so you can take photos with it in your costume; a factor you never seem to miss with a gasp and tease. Y/N who’s always preparing for the ballet over at Katsuki’s house. His father taking the time to help prepare your costume and pointe shoes together. The family office (which already was a design studio) now an explosion of ribbons and bubble gum pop as pins and needles do hems and tucks. Your mother and his always taking the time to practice teaching you how to do the makeup and hair yourself. Katsuki will always peak his head into the office to office to announce his presence as you swivel your head and beam from the dress pedalstol.

Y/N who quickly dives into theatre and music. The Suzuki cello lessons taking place for so long that eventually when Katsuki gets signed up for drum lessons the new carpool starts to break your routine. Instead of the usual music that you’re studying your accompanied by Katsuki tapping anxiously with his fingers against his knees. His lessons that take place down the hall so loud that you can hear them in the midst of your scales. And everyday for the first few months when asked how it was you’d grumble and snark out “not really sure it was impossible to hear with the super loud drums next door.” And quickly his lessons require a little bit of piano playing and soon enough the hallway is filled with plinkering notes as he attempts a sonata every Wednesday for 20 minutes.  Eventually he gets good enough that his mother starts pressuring him to accompany your cello playing. And it’s 2 grueling days spent at his house where you’re forced to sit as Katsuki stiffly positions himself at the keyboard and hammers out the accompaniment to your solo. Very quickly the parents learn that this isn’t going to work very well and you and Katsuki go back on your merry way with lessons. Sometimes now you even get a good giggle when hammering along to something only for a drumstick to fly out of his hand. The resulting pause and string of curses simply hilarious from your safe distance.  Y/N who joins theatre and try’s out for the musicals for several years. Whose excitement and participation in captivating performances moves Izuku to join shortly after. Momma Inko packing snacks into your bags as you stay afterschool. Your own parents picking the two of you up and having Izuku over for dinner until Momma Inko gets off of work.  Izuku who’s fantastic at memorizing lines and lyrics that he quickly gets lead roles especially when there’s so few boys in theatre. And you who’s good enough at music and dancing that you’re on the “dance team” which is a special group of students from similiar backgrounds who get to do the more interesting choreography. The two of you a perfect duo of tenor and soprano which means that you can sing out all the songs out of context to your hearts content together. The two of you incredibly enthusiastic the year you do Macbeth because it’s the first time you’ve both landed big roles: Izuku as Banquo and Y/N as the head witch in the play. And now the both of you get to interact together on stage besides just being ensemble and chorus members.

Every rehearsal in costume you get to prance around with a cloak and dare to scare Izuku in the dark backstage. Except he’ll usually silently flinch and then grin with his arms open for an embrace whispering “n/n!” as he beckons you forth, “didn’t know you got back from costume and makeup already. That was super fast. You look good - uh I mean bad. Yeah, bad.” 

And Katsuki’s forced to watch by himself with all of your folks giving y’all a congratulations and handing off another bouquet to you and giving Izuku a playful punch to the shoulder. The parents enthusiastically asking to get pictures of the two of you in costume. 

Y/N with best few photos always ending up on your wall just like the rest of them that you have with the boys after everything you’ve done all these years together. Izuku has his catalogued by year in a scrapbook and Katsuki has his favorite one framed: a photo of you in your ballet outfit and him in his baseball get-up with a fashion disaster Izuku in the middle as he had to dress up for both events. The poor boy slightly sunburnt and covered in a far amount of glitter sandwiched between y’all. 

[mayonnaisemiscellaneous]

Facts in my ideal Tfp species swap au

Humans←→cybertronions

•most of the decepticons are terrified of the cybertronions

•Megs tries to gaslight the trio into joining the decepticons multiple times

•MicDrop(Miko) is built like a Decepticon(sharp teeth,sharp hands and sharp build)

•HackRate(Raf) feet can turn into roller blades(vroomx2 skkkrrrtttt)

•Dune(June) and Arcee trauma bond over their dead lovers/Conjuixes

•KnockOut has a 261108011 steps skincare routine

•WheelJack uses a 25 in 1 soap/shampoo/shave cream/cooking oil/butter/olive oil/Heck there's probably more uses of it

•StarScream wears eyeliner and uses Soundwaves face plate as a mirror

•there are stitches around BumbleBee's neck cuz some deception ripped his vocal cords out

•SoundWave is born mute

•the humanformers actually have real names but prefer to go by their nicknames

•Ratcget has asthma

•arachnid is lebanese- Lebanon- uhhh the L word

•BreakDown dies but gets resurrected because I physically,mentally and verbally cannot describe a character death

•ShockWave,Ultra Magnus and Rodimus are trans and (again) I will not elaborate

•Megs let's KnockOut sharpen his nails because he views them as "threatening claws"

•MicDrop blasts meme sounds the chance she gets on the big speakers on her back

•CrackerJack(Jack)has a book bigger than the average cybertronion book with the title being "human slangs and insults"

•HackRate somehow adapted to human culture faster than the other cybertronions,this includes Agent Growler(Agent Frowler) and Dinobot Dune

•the Decepticons only meet Dune 3-4 times a season but when they do they suddenly regret every decision they have made to lead up to her Arrival

•Ultra Magnus said a cybertronion insult before without knowing and the cybertronions can never see him the same

•Agent Growler accused Starscream and KnockOut of wearing wigs before

•the humans in this au are all adults exept for the predacons being 13-17,but they are Hella strong and taller rhan the average human

•Optimus doesn't die

•tgey all live happily ever after and go to therapy

•ratchet and breakdown get high together on crack energon,I will not elaborate

•energon is similar to dr*gs in this au,if used wrongly BOOM SHAKALAKA,the autobots only use it because food is scarce on earth

•forgot to mention cybertronions can eat ANYTHING in this au but they eat cybertronion food mostly

• all Cybertronions have a cybertronion equivalent of a telephone,it's similar to the ones in Steven Universe but more similar to a flip phone(messaging,pictures,browsing,music,etc)

•BumbleBee is the youngest member of the Autobots being 21

•SoundWave and ShockWave have been dating since before the war but nobody really noticed untill SoundWave mentioned it when he got a promotion

•Arachnid has 12 fingers and toes

•StarScream still wears heels

[shadowedstardust]

me: rereading my favorite shenvadi fic (crackerjack by something different) for the fourth time. i finish the fic and check the victoria javadi/john shen tag.

AO3: 10 Works in Victoria Javadi/John Shen

me: OH MY GOD THERE'S TWO NEW FICS.

[otrtbs]

there's a thing in the summer evening, when the sun goes down and the moon is high and full in the sky, cooling everything off just slightly, where the surrounding neighborhood kids come out and play baseball in a makeshift baseball field and everyone gets really into it. like, really into it. they have to bring their own battery operated lights for the field, they have bets running on the different teams playing (a few dollars, baseball cards, packs of gum, coins, stickers, yo-yo's, single cigarettes (how'd those get in there?) sunglasses, watches, candy, you name it).

and no adults allowed. not that they encroach on the fun, but the first game starts at one in the morning so who's got the time?

and since sirius left to live with james, regulus is shut up in the house and has to hear about the great baseball extravaganza from barty in a "your brother is on the james potter all-star team i've got $50 in the pool, we have to go to the tournament" kinda way. and regulus is like "my mother would actually kill me and explicitly forbids it but i'll think about it."

but barty shows up just after midnight on game day and starts throwing rocks at regulus' window to get him to come out except he runs out of small rocks and moves to bigger ones and gets impatient and throws the big rocks harder and then oops, one went right through a window, except this house isn't regulus' house. regulus' house is two doors down, it's just hard to see in the dark. so barty moves two doors down and finds some smaller rocks and starts over again until regulus comes out. scowling, but he's out.

and they start the long walk to the makeshift baseball field and it's hot and the air is sticky and sweet with honeysuckles. and barty and regulus talk. and barty buys regulus boiled peanuts and crackerjack from a kid's makeshift concession stand and they sit in the makeshift bleachers side by side with their knees knocking together. and barty manages to make sly remarks that make regulus laugh. and regulus makes last minute bets and watches the game, and starts getting into it, and barty smiles at the way he's on the edge of his seat, brows furrowed in concentration. barty thinks he even sees regulus clap once, and it's fun watching regulus, more fun than watching the game, even.

so fun that barty says he'll get regulus the next night to watch the next two teams play. regulus agrees, and they make this a routine and barty thinks, finally.

but then it's james' team that's up next and james walks up to the plate and does a trick with his baseball bat with a grin so-wide and a wink, and regulus' eyes are as wide a saucers for a brief second before he catches himself but it doesn't matter. barty's seen it, and knows instantly he's made a mistake. he's signed himself up for a summer of looking at regulus look at james. and he's doomed.

[deadsprout]

there's a lot that happens in The View from Halfway Down but a part that really pulls at my heart is how well Bojack and Crackerjack get along and work together for the brief time we see them next to eachother. For those few moments we see what kind of role model Crackerjack would have been for Bojack: a kind uncle with a sense of whimsy and a strong head on his shoulders. Bojack says he was "the uncle i never met but could never live up to." Bojack likely would have looked up to Crackerjack instead of his father. just more evidence of the ripple effect that Crackerjack's death had on the entire family for generations.

[smuttyhoneyposts]

Prompt: Never take Kokichi to the back of Spencer's

AN - My impulsive thoughts won and I wrote so oop (let me know what you guys think >>)

MINORS DNI

------------------------XXX-------------------------

Taking a look at Spencer's that one time, was a mistake...

You always wanted to take a look when kokichi and you went to the mall near his base, but you never really got the chance with him. But, after a week ago you did. At first it was pretty cool, the shirts the mugs and all, but your cheeky boyfriend seemed waaaay more interested in the back of the store. And the reason...sex toys. Lots of them.

You wished you could have smacked that look off his face as you gasped in embarrassment at the sight of the big wall of vibrators to costumes. You could even remember when he grabed the lace lingerie and gave you a shit eating grin "You know I think one's suits you~". You walked out after paying leaving your boyfriend to finish up his fun, after some time he came out with his own stuff and you never spoke of it. Kokichi did tease tho, but nothing to big.

He did leave the fact that he loving bought you a pair of panties that day, And left the fact they were vibrating panties.

With leaves you to now.

"You okay Y/n? You look a little pale.." Kaito asks, his look of worry being ignored by you as you tremble abit and grip your shirt slightly from under the diner table. "Y-yep..peachy" you mumbled quietly as making raises a brow at you. The one time you wear the new pair to a meet up with these two, let alone your boyfriend siting next to you with smirk. He moves close to you and slides a arm around you waist and giggles. "Ah~ I think crackerjack is fine, probably just, hungry..right?" He gives you a look and moves his hand under the table to rub your thigh lighly.

You nod and try to shake away the vibrating sensation on your area. As your about to speak and resume a conversation with the two others you stop for a moment as the vibrators suddenly picks up and buzzes more strongly against your wet cunt. "I-..uh just..think I need to use the washroom...I'm probably j-just woozy is all haha. Don't worry." You mumbled as you get up from kokichi's grasp and wobble you way to the bathroom near the back of the restaurant.

Kokichi gives a knowing look as you walk away and fakes a slight worried look to the others two. "Ah, I'm gonna check on her, y'know just to be sure she's alright!" He explained cheeky and wanders to the bathroom as well, remote in hand he raised the remote  on max and entered the bathroom and locking it, as he stares at you shaking form with a smirk. He stands there as you let out quiet whimpers as you stare at him.

"You're an asshole..fuck~" you half moaned as he walks to you and put a hand on your jaw, that smirk still on his lips. "Aw~ you know..you look kinda pathetic right now~" he teases as you keen to his touch, the vibrator not helping one bit. He glances at your pants and chuckles as the wet spot becomes more apparent. "Wow..you must really want me if you're driping for me that much!" He spoke as his other hand goes to rub the vibrator on your pussy more.

The action makes your knees almost buckle as he stares at you moaning out a curse as you stare back at him. Your hand goes to grip his arm and giggles silently at your reaction. "kokichi..please-just fuck~" "hm? Just what?" He mumbles close to your face as you wimper again. You bite you lip as his hand slips under your pants ans moves the violent vibrator aside, his fingers press against your bud lighly and you moan again, unable to finish.

"What? You want me to..fuck you, hm? Is that it?" He mocks as he presses the bud harder and leans you more onto the tiled wall behind your shaking form. "You want me to make you into a whorish mess in this bathroom? Nehehe~Right now?" He mumbles closer to your ear. You grip harder as his fingers graze you pussy again.

"Y-yes~!" You whine and spread your shaking legs wider for him. He smiles and bites your shoulder.

"You should have just asked. But we godda hurry...don't want the others to wonder hm~?"

[virgo-mess]

The time has come that @karatekels and I gift you guys the link to all the TIG movies we have been able to find. It will also be routinely updated if we happen to get hold of another one! There's 12 movies on here, and the two part episode of In the Heat of the Night TIG guest starred on as the hunky carnie Luke Potter 🥵! The Secret of Giving was curtosey of whichever lovely person posted the link for it during Christmas. I wasn't able to find your account again, but if you see this, thank you, and I hope you don't mind. We put it in this folder. And once again, thank you to whoever shared Beyond Forgiveness with me ages ago 🩵🩵🩵. I hope you guys enjoy it, and I'll be sure to notify you if a new movie has been added 💜

Movie List-

Excessive Force

Black Friday aka The Kidnapping

Rock Hudson

The Secret of Giving

The Heat of the Night two part episode

The Unexpected Mrs. Pollifax

KK3

Ulterior Motives aka Kill Fee

Vampires

Black Point

Hallow Point

Beyond Forgiveness aka Blood of the Innocent

Kull the Conqueror

High Adventure

Seawolf aka The Pirate's Curse

Crackerjack

Avalanche aka Escape from Alaska

Timecop 2

Final Encounter/ For the Cause

Behind Enemy Lines

A Vision of Murder: The Story of Donielle

[marzipanandminutiae]

"Marzi, what actually IS Enchanted Doll, though?"

for me, it's this little fake person who lives in my house:

this is Maryse. everybody say "hi, Maryse!" she was made some time in the early-mid 2010s as part of a limited blank, nude resin BJD line sculpted by artist Marina Bychkova (her face was most recently painted by the incredible Cat, "maybeawerewolf" on IG)

but Maryse has. much more famous porcelain sisters. and they look like this:

any gems or precious metals you see up there are real. for reference. this woman is not just a doll artist, but a seamstress and jeweler Par Excellence in the bargain

costumed porcelain Enchanted Dolls are the shining stars of the art doll world: dazzling and unreachable for all but a lucky (and usually deep-pocketed) few. the blank resin ones are rare enough to find secondhand- they're not being made anymore -but the porcelain are like..."if I marry a multimillionaire, may she propose to me with a porcelain Enchanted Doll holding a ring from a crackerjack box" status

the eye candy is real

[fennecfics]

Some Cuphead show Fanart & Comics I did (it’s mostly King Dice):

some relate to the Cuphead Show x Reader fic I’m working on-

I can’t be the only one who thinks of that animation every time I think of Ludwig-

I might be a tad bit obsessed with Ludwig with how much I’m drawing him in pain xD-

I’ve also been working on drawing King Dice a lot more. Honestly, I love how beautiful I can make him look <3 (also yes the second panel is referring to A Very Devil Wedding)

I like the idea of King Dice

I was watching the Cuphead show and got bored of drawing my usual online-sona with characters, so I decided to make my own Cup-OC: Crackerjack!!

Fun Fact: When I came up with Crackerjack’s color scheme I had no clue I basically gave it the same colors as my usual online-sona until a friend pointed it out XD

I also did some art of Cagney Carnation because he also has a fun design.

That’s pretty much it for now. The rest are small sketches that I cannot even be bothered to show because honestly they’re just pointless XD-

[gingerlee-holds]

The Puppet Master, Part 2

The long, long awaited sequel! This one is brutal heehee so if you prefer gentle twords, read my other fics for that! But a very very flustered cutie has been waiting for this for a loooong time, and who am I to deny her what she needs heehee!! I hope you enjoy!!

Written for @featherfoxx, thank you to @devious-bliss for the inspiration!

Word Count: 2,953 Reading Time: About 12 minutes Warnings: hand restraints, feet twords, hard tickling, implied mind magic

Before we begin, keep in mind that this is a reader self-insert! Now, without further ado, let me tell you how exactly you were tworded to fucking bits heehee

All that night, you blushed and squirmed through tickly dreams. You awoke at multiple points throughout the early morning hours, curled up in a ball, blushing and sweating from a ruthless puppet master playing with your subconscious. No matter what you did to distract yourself, it seemed like that pesky little magician snuck back in to ensure you hadn’t forgotten how ticklish and vulnerable you were. Squirming around and holding your favorite stuffed animal over your bright red face, it felt like this had been intentional; that sneaky puppeteer had delicately wrapped your mind in her yarn, and ever since you had visited her, you felt that yarn occasionally pulled on, filling your head with flustering, tickly thoughts. You, of course, had no way of proving this - as it was most likely your imagination making it worse for yourself - but the idea that the ginger in the purple suit had somehow fiddled with your brain was enough to fill you with a playful determination.

After the third wake-up, still kind of feeling the fuzzy ears of a fox puppet around your collarbone, you were resolved. ‘That’s it! She’s not getting away with this!’ you thought to yourself. ‘I refuse to be her plaything!’ And having made up your mind to acquire retribution, you spent the rest of the night hatching a bold plan: you would catch her by surprise and give that pesky magician a taste of her own medicine!

After a night fraught with ghostly pokes and phantom scribbles, dawn came at last, and you arose with a fire in your soul, burning for vengeance. Quickly throwing on a band t-shirt and some jorts, you grabbed a makeup brush, a spool of your bright red yarn, a few fuzzy feathers, and - grinning evilly - a brand new electric toothbrush, setting it all into a backpack along with a few water bottles. You put on some sandals and set off toward the park. You were ready.

The carnival had just opened when you arrived, which, in a way, was much more amusing than you had anticipated. A yawning attendant gave you a bag of crackerjack for free, chuckling and saying he “can’t be bothered finding the receipt printer.” You almost burst out laughing when you saw someone in clown makeup scrolling through their phone while dressed in street clothes. The carnival in the morning reminded you of a college student - wild and carefree, partying with reckless abandon into the night, only to be rudely awakened the following morning to set it all up again. It’s no coincidence that the circus visiting your town was primarily staffed by college-aged folks.

Nevertheless, you soon found the tent you were looking for. The purple and green tent looked just as cozy as it had the night before, but the sign in front differed. It read: “The Puppet Master Returns Tonight @ 6! You won’t want to miss it!” Instead of being pulled invitingly open, the tent flaps were shut tight, except for a tiny bit at the bottom where the flaps had pulled apart slightly. ‘Perfect!’ you thought.

Crawling inside, you were surprised at how little the mood in the tent had changed. The lighting inside was cozy, as it had been last night, even though the sun was out. The sounds of birdsong outside faded, too, and if you didn’t know any better, you could even say that you had entered some kind of pocket dimension. No doubt some more of that magician’s trickery. Everything looked as it had: the plush floor, the stage, the curtains… but where was the Puppet Master?

Only one of the curtains was closed, but the other was still open, showing the stage. All of the puppets had been put away in a toy chest, and beside it, your target slept, snuggled to a pillow. The Puppet Master looked different; where she had been chubby before, now she was somewhat skinnier. Her hair was longer and messier, but that was most likely the fault of her sleep. Instead of her suit, she wore a pair of fuzzy pajamas and socks and a cartoonish nightcap drooped over her head. A snorer, too, you observed as you approached. The pillow was less to support her and more to give her something to hold onto, and she cuddled it close. She almost looked too cute to tickle, but you knew your mission. 

‘It’s too easy,’ you said to yourself, holding onto the straps of your backpack and beginning to approach the stage confidently. You made it about halfway before shenanigans struck. 

The plush, comfy floor you walked on seemed to provide less and less support as you went on, each step sinking you deeper into the softness beneath. Once you were halfway, you had sunk into the plushness up to your waist, and, grumbling, you pulled yourself forward. Instead of a mattress, this plushness reminded you of a foam pit, and after a few more steps, you were completely stuck. The surrounding plush floor held you snugly up to your chest, and much to your dismay, it had now become too difficult to pull yourself out. Moreover, you quickly discovered that you couldn’t pull back either: you were stuck in the comfy, foamlike, plush floor, conformed to your body shape entirely. 

“The hell is this!” you muttered out loud by mistake. Unfortunately for you, the Puppet Master softly snorted as she awoke, yawning and rubbing her eyes. She reached over, picked up a pair of round glasses, scratched her head, and stood up to see her intruder. 

The sight of you, frustrated with the floor and confused at your predicament, sent her into hysterics. “Heeheeheeheehee! Ohohooh, dehehearrr!!” she laughed, hugging herself around her belly. “I-ihihihit seeeheeheems- heehehehehee!! - thahat sohomeone was a lihittle eager to return~!!”

Growling in humiliation, you hung your head to hide your face. The element of surprise had been entirely lost!

The sleepy girl before you padded over softly on her fuzzy socks, hopping off the stage and onto the plush floor, which didn’t sink under her as it did for you. Giggling helplessly at your condition, she laid down in front of you on her stomach, swinging her feet in the air behind her as she booped your nose. “Hey there again, cutie pie! Missed me that much~?” 

You said nothing, doing your best to retain your dignity.

“Couldn’t stop thinkin’ about me, huh~?” You suddenly looked up at her. She smiled as if she had known what your night had been like for you. Giggling at your shocked face, she continued, “Oh, you’re too precious. Don’t worry, hun! It’s only natural!” She reached over and ruffled your hair. “Anyone who needs this place finds it! That way, I can play with only the people I know will enjoy it as much as I do!” The Puppet Master suddenly tugged the air in front of your forehead, and all at once, your mind rushed with tickly thoughts and teases, all the memories of yesterday pushing forward and coloring your cheeks a bright red. It was her all along!

As you racked your mind trying to make sense of this information, you were interrupted by a sudden stream of bubbly giggles emerging from your throat. The Puppet Master’s head-scratching reached your neck, and her nails gently traced around and around. She smiled fondly, her whole expression painted with affection at your adorable glee.

“Now, let’s see whatcha brought! I’m super curious!” She crawled around behind you and sat, happily picking up your backpack.

“No, no! Don’t look in there!” you hastily said, but she had already unzipped it and was looking through its items. 

“Oh! New yarn, looks like! And… feathers? Is that a makeup brush…? Hmm…” She went silent for a bit, and you jumped when you suddenly heard her voice right in your ear: “Trying to get revenge, huh~?” she purred. “How absolutely adorable you humans are, thinking you can outsmart me~!”

Well, that cleared a lot up. She wasn’t human! That’s how she had all that power! What was she??

“Hey!” Her snapping her fingers in each ear brought your attention back. “Got a question for ya!” Pulling your bag of tools behind her, she crawled back to where you could see her. “Have you ever heard of Cat’s Cradle?”

Tilting your head a bit in confusion, you nodded. “Yeah, it’s that kids game with the string.” 

“Y’ever played?”

“Few times, while ago.”

She clapped her hands happily. “Perfect!” she exclaimed. The magician pulled out your red yarn from the bag but, to your shock, pulled out an identical spool of pink yarn after it. She unspooled a long string of each and cut it with a simple tug. “Okay, here’s yours!” she said, handing you your red yarn while she held the pink one. “Watch me. Try to follow along.”

Seeing as you didn’t have anything else to do, you sighed and tried your best to follow along as she skillfully began creating the Cat’s Cradle. She giggled a tiny bit when she finished, setting her yarn down to help you out by tugging the yarn here and moving your fingers there. In the end, you held a rather complex and beautifully made string figure between your fingers!

“Bravo! Oh, you’re remarkable at this!” She clapped again, making you smile sheepishly. However, it didn’t take you long before you realized you couldn’t untangle your hands from the yarn. Harder and harder you tugged, but your fingers were very well tied, your hands bound by the pretty Cradle. “Oop, here, let me help you with that…” she muttered, taking one of the ends of your yarn and giving it a gentle tug, and all at once, your hands clapped together, bound tight. “There! Now c’mon, cutie, let’s getcha out of my floor.”

Blushing at the realization that the game had been a ruse, you let yourself get tugged out from the floor by your yarned-up hands, feeling the ground become more and more firm underneath you. “T-that was a nasty trick!” you whined.

“Oh, you should have seen it coming a mile away. I’m a Puppet Master! Nimble fingers come with the job~,” she teased as she wiggled her fingers against your cheeks, making you sputter. Gently, her soft hands guided you to the floor so you were lying down on your back before she effortlessly grabbed your bound hands and moved them above your head, saying, as if it were an afterthought, “These can’t move now.” It shouldn’t have surprised you, but you were a bit bewildered by the fact that she was correct: you couldn’t pull your hands down as much as you tried. 

She suddenly gasped as she got an idea. “I know another game we can play! It’s called, how long can my ticklish little puppet stay silent while I tickle them!”

“T-that sounds like a terrible game!” you spat, and she patted your head in response.

“I don’t know… you did intrude on me while I was sleeping, so I think that deserves a little punishment~! Then again, maybe it’ll be a reward since I know you’ll enjoy it so, so much~!”

Before you could voice any more criticisms, you yelped in surprise when she pulled out all your tools and set them before you. 

“Hm… I can’t hold all of these at once… I know! I’ll need help!” She whistled, and the toy chest sprung open, a group of five puppets rushing through the air to her. “Here, Wolf, you can hold the makeup brush, and I’m trusting you two to hold these!” she said, handing the two extra-fluffy feathers to Lion and Cat. She removed the electric toothbrush as if she were holding a precious relic. “This one’s mine~!”

You didn’t even have time to say, “Wait-!” before it started~!

The two puppets with no tools, Snake and Owl, dove in first. Owl, all covered in fuzzy feathers, nuzzled into your neck, chin, and ears, hooting and cooing at you. “Whooooo’s a ticklish puppet! Whooooo’s a cutie patootie! Who? Who?” she asked, snuggling her soft felt beak into your ear. All by herself, Owl was sending you into squeaky, blushy laughter, but don’t worry, it would get a lot worse! <3

Snake, meanwhile, had slithered his sneaky way under your shirt, nudging your shorts down a bit to reveal your hips. “Sssssssscore~!!!” he victoriously said as he wound his way around and around like a belt, his surprisingly tickly underbelly making you jump and buck around. Besides the occasional hiss as his felt tongue flickered across your lower tummy, he stayed silent as he pulled wave after wave of laughs out from your lungs.

The Puppet Master sat, smiling and watching you being slowly picked apart so adorably by her cute little puppets. She was content to wait until you began getting used to the current tickles before ramping them up. After all, she had until six before her next show, so she was content to make you pay for your impudent intrusion!

Wolf’s patience wore out first, and after a lengthy squeal on your part when Snake dipped his head into your belly button, he growled and dove in, armed and ready with the makeup brush. The Puppet Master chuckled and pulled your shirt up to your ribs for him. Quickly swatting the reptilian puppet out of the way with the brush, he dipped it into your giggle button and swirling it around and around your tummy. He looked up and grinned happily at the results: deep belly laughter erupted from Mt. You, bouncing about the tent like a rubber ball, much to the amusement of the Puppet Master, who began giggling with you. To celebrate, Wolf started to nibble around your ribs while continuing to paint with the makeup brush. 

Lion and Cat, wielding their feathers like knights holding their swords, looked up at the puppeteer pleadingly, happily cheering when she nodded as their sign of permission. The two puppets flew down and began happily humming a circus tune as they started going to town on your sides. Cat, soft and sweet, hummed innocently as she wiggled the fuzzy feather up and down your right side, up and down, mercilessly rhythmic. Lion, by contrast, was anything but sweet as she giggled cruelly, turning the feather around to the pointy tip and, using it like a quill pen, began writing and scribbling over your left side. It was brutal! You thrashed away from the mean scribbles and pokes, only to be met by gentle feather strokes and wiggles! You were already shrieking through your laughter, yelping with glee, and unable to beg for mercy anymore. At around the twenty-minute mark, the Puppet Master herself made her move. 

You had absolutely no way to pay attention to what she was doing, so no alarm bells went off when she began crawling down to your feet and pulling off your sandals, but you could only go bug-eyed and squeal when you heard the unmistakable sound of the electric toothbrush turning on. Your thrashing increased a bit, but the other puppets made sure you were far too weak to put up any significant resistance. The Puppet Master smiled at you with pitiless satisfaction and adoring affection as she used the toothbrush under your toes on your right foot, scribbling across your left sole with her nails. That was the final straw for you. Tears rolled down your cheeks in rivers as you lay limply, unable to do anything but sit there and take your tickles like a good puppet. Your laughter had gone silent a while ago. Yet, this time, the puppets were out for metaphorical blood as they wrecked your spots creatively, curiously, and mercilessly. 

The second you began coughing, though, everything stopped. All the puppets dropped to the floor, inanimate once more, and the Puppet Master sprang up to get some water from your bag. She put the bottle to your lips, and you gulped it down eagerly, smiling at the relief it gave. She brought your hands back down again, and suddenly, you found that the strings fell apart, sloughing off your hands and allowing you to free yourself from the tangle with ease. Curling up into a ball, you finished your water, and the Puppet Master finished her water shortly after. 

“You feeling okay, cutie~?” 

“Y-yyeheheesss! G-gohohoshh…” 

“Didn’t think I’d go that far, didja~? I’m just a sweet, innocent girl, huh~? Not when you wake me up before I’ve finished my sleep!”

“S-sohohohorryy!!”

“Oh, don’t worry! This was such a pleasant wake-up ~!” With that, she quickly scooped you up in her arms, carrying you across the room and onto the stage, laying you down beside her. “Now, I think we could both use the sleep, right~? You must not have slept well, I’m guessing~!”

You nodded, all the sleepiness hitting you like a freight train as you yawned and got comfy on the floor. 

“Figures~!” She yawned, too, and wiggled over to you. “Besides, it’ll be nice to have something other than a pillow to spoon.”

The two of you were out like an identical pair of lights, you being snuggled by the petite magician. No dreams bothered you in your sleep as you floated in the void sea of the subconscious mind. What would await you when you awoke was no concern of yours because, for now, you were comfy, exhausted, and being snuggled by an adorably sweet… whatever she is. You’ll figure that out later. For all your life afterward, you would never recall a more peaceful slumber than on the floor of that tent, cradled like a cat by an adoring and tickle-hungry Puppet Master!

The end ~!

Read the previous entry in The Puppet Master!

[apartmentsmoke]

Okay, new ask game! Top three dates you'd love to see Buck and Tommy go on 🥰

Sorry this has been in my inbox forever <3 1. Skydiving! Buck would love it, and would persuade Tommy into doing it. I think Tommy would be reticent - he flies the aircraft; he doesn't jump from them. He's even less enthusiastic when he learns that they have to take a 6-hour class beforehand, because Buck wants to do it solo and not with an instructor strapped to his back. Buck's able to persuade him, though, through the power of puppy dog eyes and blowjobs combined. While they're going up, Tommy is a little fidgety, and Buck teases him ("The man who flew through a cat five hurricane is afraid of a little jump?"). When it comes to the jump - which they do separately because the one thing Buck didn't do during his travels was become a licensed skydiver - Buck goes first and he gives Tommy a peck and a cheeky wave. And, well, Tommy's already promised himself that he'll follow where Evan goes, so he doesn't hesitate. When they've both landed, adrenaline narrowing their focus, Tommy pulls Buck towards him and they make out until the instructor clear her throat. 2. Baseball game - this time, it's Tommy that pulls from his mental fact database. I know that man lives on Baseball Reference and FanGraphs. He struggled with enjoying it one of the few good memories he had with his dad was watching games on the TV together, but he had an ex who got him back into it, and now he's a Dodgers fan. He's telling Buck all about Shohei Ohtani and how he is potentially the greatest baseball player to ever live. Buck is charmed. He's never been to a baseball game before but loves the idea of them, and immediately grabs crackerjack and peanuts because they're classic. Between innings, they end up on the kiss cam, and Buck leans in to kiss Tommy, happy and grinning and proud. 3. Clubbing - Buck never got his dance at the wedding, and he is going to dance with Tommy. It's not the same kind of dancing, but this is even better; he can hold Tommy as close as he wants and not worry about who might be watching them. Buck's been to a gay club before, but always an ally - "Thought you were still my ally, Evan?" - and not since he's started dating Tommy. Tommy isn't huge on clubbing, but he's got a couple favorite spots he goes to occasionally. The club's busy, and they're already touching, squished side-to-side, when they're getting drinks. Then it's out to the dance floor, and they spend hours out there (with a few trips to the bar in between), hands roaming, yelling into each other's ears to be heard over the music. By the time they leave they're both drunk and giggling, their ears ringing, and they tumble together from the Uber into Tommy's bed.