#//<- I mean you're not wrong. I've been thinking too

[tprings-hair]

what happened on tarsus iv?

this is my attempt at creating a definitive list of information on what kirk experienced on tarsus iv for fic writers and other fans who want to know wtf is up with kirk's backstory.

(I have a longer, more general post on tos kirk's backstory here.)

"Kodos the Executioner, summary. Governor of Tarsus Four twenty Earth years ago. Invoked martial law. Slaughtered fifty percent of population Earth colony, that planet. Burned body found when Earth forces arrived. No positive identification. Case closed."

let's start with this quote from spock, detailing the information he found on their ship's computer.

first of all: at its core, this episode is tos's take on the nazis who escaped capture. adolf eichmann was only found in 1960, and would certainly have been in the public memory as a high profile nazi who managed to make a new life under an assumed name. he was not the only one to have escaped capture, and I don't think I need to explain which conspiracy theory the circumstances of kodos's faked death call to mind.

this episode was an exploration of what form cruelty and authoritarianism might take in star trek's universe, with a huge amount of influence from shakespeare's work. the two together make up this central dilemma: is it kodos? might kirk be condemning an innocent man? if it is kodos, does kirk have the right to act as judge, jury, and executioner? is it possible for someone who carried out terrible acts to live a new life somewhere else, and not have the violence follow?

SPOCK: According to our library banks, it started on the Earth colony of Tarsus IV, when the food supply was attacked by an exotic fungus and largely destroyed. There were over eight thousand colonists and virtually no food. And that was when Governor Kodos seized full power and declared emergency martial law.

MCCOY: I've heard of it.

SPOCK: You may not have heard it all. Kodos began to separate the colonists. Some would live, be rationed whatever food was left. The remainder would be immediately put to death. Apparently he had his own theories of eugenics.

MCCOY: Unfortunately, he wasn't the first.

SPOCK: Perhaps not. But he was certainly among the most ruthless, to decide arbitrarily who would survive and who would not, using his own personal standards, and then to implement his decision without mercy. Children watching their parents die. Whole families destroyed. Over four thousand people. They died quickly, without pain, but they died. Relief arrived, but too late to prevent the executions. And Kodos? There never was a positive identification of his body.

the thing is, this introduces a number of inconsistencies. it could easily be chalked up to confusion between multiple drafts of the script, but if you want to look deeper and see where the information comes from, you'll notice the two survivors have very different stories than the official starfleet record.

specifically, spock says that they died quickly and painlessly, and though he is sure that karidian is kodos, he does not seem to treat him as a legitimate threat to anyone's safety. we don't know if kodos ever directly killed anyone, or if he only gave the orders. but kirk and leighton seem to agree on the violence: leighton refers to his own injury as "the bloody thing (kodos) did", and kirk recalls kodos "blasting" others out of existence. it's possible kirk was saying it to confuse kodos, so kodos might say "that's not how it happened" and give himself away. it's also possible that leighton sustained his injury at a different time than the massacre. it seems likeliest to me in any case that the information on the ship's computer is not the entire truth.

which also means you can headcanon whatever you want and nobody can tell you definitively that you're wrong. be free with your tarsus iv headcanons.

exploring the tarsus iv lore (or lack of it) has led me to this sort of consensus in the fandom that kirk was looking after a group of children. I think it's a very cool way of exploring how central it is to his character that he has to be in control, protecting people, and fighting back, and I've read and enjoyed some absolutely fantastic fics with that premise. even william shatner seems to agree. in his novel collision course (which gives kirk and spock a sort of alternate first meeting as teenagers and gives some great insights into how shatner viewed kirk's backstory), kirk ().

the ship's computer specifies the number of survivors later in the episode as nine, and lists them as

Kirk, J., Leighton, T., Moulton, E., Riley, K., Eames, D.

before kirk cuts it off. once leighton dies, the last two surviving are kirk and riley.

the novelization by james blish names a couple more characters, and in order of age: Leighton, T., Molson, E., Kirk, J., Wiegand, R., Eames, S., and Daiken, R., which was what they called the role of kevin riley initially. he is specified as being five years old at the time, and kirk is not a child or teen but a midshipman.

and collision course names still more characters. edith zaglada, an eight year old girl who kirk saw killed. donny, tay, and billy are named as other survivors. this novel doesn't get into kodos's motivations or kirk's circumstances, but it gives us two new characters, griffyn and matthew, who are teenagers employed by kodos as bounty hunters for escapees of the initial massacre. starfleet arrives just as edith is shot and griffyn is trying to convince matthew to shoot kirk. we don't really know if kirk knew any of the other survivors, but he mentions edith's name specifically a few times as a death that affected him a lot. it's heartbreaking to watch city on the edge of forever with that in mind. I also can't find a source for anyone calling him JT, but collision course does call him jimmy during the flashback chapters.

crucially, the novel isn't technically canon. so you can have your gang of children led by JT, or you can have jimmy stick with a couple of people, or you could do something totally your own. none of these are wrong! do whatever your heart desires.

if you want some practical details, there's a great post here by @spirk-trek and pt 1, pt 2, and pt 3 of a great post by @pywren. I may make my own tarsus iv headcanon post if anyone is interested, and if I do I'll link it here.

[tasty-soda-pop]

Everyone theorizing that "Oh gangle will abstract" "Oh ragatha will abstract" You're saying that cause those are the eps we've gotten. You're forgetting who the next episode is supposed to center on. Ep6 is supposedly Jax's episode, and if ep5 was really the silly before the storm, that means next episode is THE STORM, or the start of it at least and I know for a fact that it landing on Jax's ep not after means something. Jax is the storm, and I've known since the beginning that something huge would happen with Jax, because he's the one character kept ENTIRELY SECRET, and I get it that being cagey is just sort of his personality, but it's not just that, glitch and gooseworx have always been cagey ABOUT JAX, even what small info we did get before now goose has said could just be a lie. I've always thought they had to be keeping him such a massive secret for a reason, its because someone massive will happen with him and telling us literally anything before now would destroy that surprise punch the story is gonna deliver. We just finnaly got something on him sure, but that still feels like breadcrumbs, we dont get the full story, not even close. So now with all of that, what if it's Jax who abstracts? Or nobody abstracts because might I remind you we're still not close to the final episode? But what if Jax breaks as we've been seeing a trend of characters breaking in their own ways during their episodes? And what if Jax has to be as secret as possible cause he'll break in bigger way than what we've seen? I think its entirely possible, and honestly I think we've been seeing him crack ever so slightly since ep4 ironically. Those are just my thoughts based on how narratives sorta go, like dont reveal your hand too soon type.

And before you bring up the cake and bowling ball thing I have no clue where y'all got the idea that either of those meant anything crazy symbolic like that, I get this show adds details that get reveals in later episodes but that felt very random to pull from, like you're looking at the wrong frames. Plus killing off a main character before the finale doesn't really make much sense, but lots of theories don't make sense looking back.

[can-u-not-14]

YALL READ THIS

LW: If you had to write a State-of-the-Union-address-style speech about popular music, what would your main points be? Ray: Oh boy. Do it Frankie. Matt: Kill it! Mikey: I mean, there's nothin wrong with pop music. It's all the songs that everyone listens to when nobody's around, you know? Everybody loves that shit, so if you say you don't like it, you're fuckin lying. Everyone loves the new Justin Timberlake song and if you don't you're probably lying. Frank: I'm sick and fucking tired of people not writing their own goddam songs and getting on the radio and pretending like they're…like they know what's up. And, like, I'm tired of all that. I'm tired of bands that totally suck and kids buyin their t-shirts and being like, "Oh, this is what punk is" or "This is what hardcore is". And all these people don't know or care what it's all about or anything like that and I'm really psyched for real music and honest music to come out. Like Thursday. Bands like The Ghost, Sleep Station, Midtown, AFI. Bands that mean it, that have been there, that kids don't even know about and all these bands like Good Charlotte and Sum 41 and all these fuckin shit pop bands out there are influenced by these bands and rip them off. Matt: Or their writers rip them off. Frank: And no one fucking cares. I dunno, I'm really waiting for all this shit to be destroyed and that's one of my goals too. To get up there and if I get 10 kids to not buy Sum 41 cds and actually get into real music, like buy a Refused cd, please. If I can do that, then I'll feel like I've done something. And that's the way I feel about that! LW: Feel better? Frank: Little bit. Yeah. LW: Is there anything else we didn't touch on that you wanna share? Frank: Yes! Support indie scenes, support your local scene, support local bands! Put on a show. Do something. Write a letter to your fuckin asshole president who is bombing innocentp eople for no reason. Just make a difference. Cause one person can do something. If you just sit back and pretend, like, you know, like, "Oh it's not my problem" or "I can'd do anything about it", you're just adding to the bullshit. And don't talk shit about things you don't know about, like, bands like Thursday and Midtown and bands that are comin out that worked their asses off to get stuff. People call them sellouts because they got success. There's a fine line between selling out and success. Don't you think it'd be better to hear Thursday on the radio than Creed? Seriously. This is our scene, all of ours, support it! Don't fuck up venues. Don't be an asshole. It's not punk rock to be an asshole. And another thing. If you go to shows just to kick somebody's ass, you're stupid, you're a jock and you're fuckin ruining everything. I got into punk rock because I wasn't accepted anywhere else and it was a place where everyone was accepted for who they were and what they wanted to be and to go there and make that a scene thats scary for kids to come to, being elitists about that, just defeats the whole purpose. So don't be an asshole.

(this was taken by endlessnightmcr on instagram so pls go check them out they’re an awesome source)

[nanenna]

And now I'm thinking about the actual plot I've been sorta playing with a little. I'll be honest, the reason I'm putting this all out is because I don't think I'm going to actually write it, but I wanna share the fun vibes. Anyway!

So getting some more BG lore out of the way: in the anime (the first season, at least, which is what I watched as a kid because it was new back then) Pokémon explicitly states that each region actually has more than 8 gyms, 8 is just the number of badges you need to fight the pokemon league of that region. So for this fakémon region (I'm calling it Justria after the Price of Peace) we're going to see 8 cities/gyms:

Gotham

Metropolis

Coast City

Middleton

Washington DC

Atlantis (an island just off the coast)

Central City

Fawcett

Amity Park

I'm debating on Amity Park though, I kinda want it to be like Lavender Town but I wouldn't know who to make the actual gym leader. Not Vlad, he's too busy running Dalv Co. and maybe still being the Mayor. Instead of being obsessed with Maddie... okay maybe he's still obsessed with Maddie but! Instead of being obsessed with making Danny his son he's now obsessed with getting his grubby paws on the fucking legendary the son of that bumbling oaf managed to catch. But back on topic: I might have Amity not have a gym after all, which means Danny 'n' friends need to go to the nearest city with a gym and/or pokemon center to register for their grand adventure.

That's right! It's a grand adventure, baybee! I was thinking my favorite thing currently for main DCxDP is Danny and Jason meeting while Jason was dead and then meeting again years later, so I'm going with something like: Jason and Danny meet while on their "congrats, you're 12! Now go wander around without proper adult supervision and get into lots of cock fights with your new pet seizure monster."

It's not uncommon for kids to go in groups, so I'm thinking Danny, Sam, and Tucker all go together. At some point they meet Jason at a pokecenter and make friends so they travel together for a while. Probably help fight off this region's version of Team Rocket, maybe split into 2 teams for part of it so Danny and Jason have to work together for a bit. Then after all that they come to a fork in the road.

Danny 'n' friends are going to head to Gotham to get the Aerial badge. Jason says he can't, that his family runs that gym so he's not allowed to challenge that one. Sadly they part ways, but they promise to keep in touch and to go challenge the League together.

Unfortunately things don't go so well for Jason. He and his Robin get into a bit of a tight spot, have a near death experience, and Robin evolves into Red Hood. It takes a long time to finally make it home and when they do everyone knows things went bad because Robins don't evolve into Red Hoods unless something went very wrong (or their trainer was an asshole).

Meanwhile Danny 'n' friends keep an ear out for Jason but they lose touch and stop seeing any mention of him (gyms keep public records of who's challenged them, and of course that's going to be displayed in the pokecenters). Danny holds out, but eventually they give up and go do their challenge of the League and Danny wins, hurrah!

Years later Danny and Jason meet again and reconnect. Phantom and Red Hood decide to play matchmaker. This is the part that's just vibes though. Like! Danny's retired, he did his whole challenge thing and it was fun but stressful and he's ready to focus on school and getting his dream job: astronaut. Jason is back in Gotham but he's been struggling to reconnect with his family and doesn't want to help at the gym so instead he's gone back to his roots and is doing charity work in Park Row Crime Alley. Romantic Comedy antics ensue.

DCxDP Pokemon-ish idea

Just a silly idea I've been kind of batting around while my hands are busy at work. Everyone is normal humans, their alter egos are their pokemon. So for instance: John Jones has a green Martian for his companion pokemon. The Kents give their children a Superboy or Supergirl for their first pokemon.

The Waynes traditionally give their child a Robin regardless of gender. Robin is the Eevee of this AU because there are several forms it can take. For instance: Dick's Robin evolved into a Nightwing and Tim's Robin evolved into a Red Robin. (This implies Bruce used to have a Robin that evolved into a Batman, which is of course what Damian is aiming for.)

Now obviously Danny's companion is Phantom. Not a Phantom, just Phantom. That's right, he's that kid that caught Zapdos thinking it was a Fearow. Danny comes home with his first pokemon showing it oof all "I caught ghost pokemon!" and showing off his brand shiny new legendary. He's ghost/ice type and knows all these cool moves! (I cannot be arsed to go find attacks that fit Phantom.)

Anyway! All that just to be backstory for this DeadonMain story idea: Phantom and Red Hood like each other, so it's up to them to get their trainers to hook up.

[cirilla-fiona-riannon]

Ranmaru's Main Story

Chapter 3 Part 1 & Part 2 Spoilers

Translations may not always capture the exact nuances or tone of the original text. Expect grammatical errors and inaccuracies. Not a full translation.

[Ranmaru invited Mai on a date.]

Ranmaru: "Alright, we're here."

(Wait—this place is…!)

Beyond the door lay a shop that sold fabrics and accessories.

Ranmaru: "You always pay attention to your appearance, so I thought you might like a place like this."

Ranmaru: "Well? What do you think?"

Mai: "You nailed it! Thank you for bringing me here."

(He really pays attention to people. And wow, there's so much to see.)

A quick glance around the shop revealed bolts of fabric that shimmered in the light.

Mai: "I've never seen this pattern before. And this one's plain, but it feels so smooth—you can tell it's high-quality."

As I got completely absorbed in looking at the fabrics, Ranmaru tilted his head curiously.

Ranmaru: "You're more interested in the fabric itself? Not the kimonos or hair accessories?"

Mai: "Yeah. Before I came here, I was going to be a designer."

Mai: "Um, it's a job where I choose colors and styles for kimonos and actually sew them myself."

(But ever since I time-slipped here, I've had no idea what happened to that job offer.)

Ranmaru: "I see. So it's like a tailor from the future."

Ranmaru: "You know, you seem more alive than usual right now."

Mai: "Huh? You think so?"

Ranmaru: "Yeah, definitely. Do you really like that job?"

Mai: "I do. I love it."

(Even if I go back to the future and the offer's gone, I still don't want to give up making clothes—that's how much I love it.)

I nodded gently, and he gave me a smile.

Ranmaru: "Hey, Lady Mai. You can tell me anything, okay?"

His hushed voice brushed softly against my ear.

Ranmaru: "We're close enough to share secrets, right?"

(Ranmaru…)

(He's probably being extra thoughtful because of what happened last night.)

That kindness filled my chest with warmth.

Ranmaru: "Finally, now you're starting to look the part."

Mai: "Huh? Look the part of what?"

Ranmaru: "Look the part of someone on a secret date. I told you that when I invited you, remember?"

(Oh, right!)

Even after we finished browsing fabrics and left the store, our "secret date" continued.

Ranmaru: "I got permission to pass through here, but let's keep it quiet."

Ranmaru: "Oh, and just in case something happens, can I hold your hand?"

Mai: "But didn't you just grab my hand without asking earlier?"

Ranmaru: "That was a spur-of-the-moment thing. Please?"

(Isn't that way too sneaky?!)

Even at the restaurant—which he apparently rented out just for today—

Ranmaru: "The grilled kamaboko here is really good. Here, say 'ahh.'"

Mai: "Huh?"

Ranmaru: "I wanted you to try it while it's still warm. Is that not okay?"

Mai: "It's… not not okay."

Ranmaru: "Hehe, what's that supposed to mean? Are you nervous?"

(It's your fault I'm nervous!)

It felt like he was deliberately making me confront the meaning of "secret date"—something I'd been trying not to think too hard about.

(He's capable, thoughtful, and knows exactly how to sweet-talk someone.)

(No matter how hard I try, I don't think I can win against someone like Ranmaru.)

As we went from place to place, I kept getting caught off guard by his little devilish charms. Still, we spent a wonderful day together, right up until the sun began to set.

Mai: "Ranmaru, thank you for today."

Ranmaru: "I should be the one saying that. Did you have fun?"

Mai: "Yeah, I really did."

Ranmaru: "Hehe, that's good."

Suddenly, Ranmaru stopped.

When I turned to look, wondering what was wrong, I saw him looking at me softly.

Ranmaru: "I'll make sure you get back home."

Ranmaru: "So let's get through these three months together, okay?"

Mai: "Ranmaru…"

Mai: "It's really comforting to hear you say that."

Ranmaru: "Right? It's a lot better than being alone."

Ranmaru: "When you were looking at the fabrics in the kimono shop, you looked so genuinely happy."

Ranmaru: "That's why I'll do whatever I can to help you chase your dream of becoming a designer."

He looked straight into my eyes.

(He's talented and well-liked by everyone—yet someone like him is on my side.)

Relief and happiness washed over me.

Mai: "Thank you. With you by my side, I feel like I can take on anything."

I somehow managed to get the words out, and he responded with a bright smile.

[The next day: Late at night - Mai couldn't sleep and slipped out of her room.]

Mai's POV

I thought I heard footsteps echoing faintly from down the corridor.

(Was it just the floorboards creaking?)

(But it felt far too distinct for that.)

I crept to the corner and peeked in the direction of the sound. There, moving silently down the corridor, was Ranmaru, holding something small in his arms.

(What is he carrying this late at night?)

(And isn't that the way out of the castle?)

Puzzled, I watched him suddenly pause and glance around.

Ranmaru: "…………"

(Ah—)

I froze in place, hardly even breathing.

Then, the soft sound of footsteps started again and gradually faded into the distance.

(I ended up hiding.)

It wasn't the first time I'd seen that shadowed look on his face.

(But tonight, it was the darkest I'd ever seen it.)

(I always thought I shouldn't intrude, but…)

He had reached out to me—even when I was the one keeping secrets.

He had come closer without hesitation, gently lifting the weight off my heart.

(So this time, I'll take the first step.)

(If he turns me away, I'll just make sure not to do it again.)

Ranmaru: ".………."

I followed him quietly as he left the castle and entered the forest.

(I have to hurry.)

I tried to keep up, but the uneven path slowed me down.

The starlight that had seemed so bright near the castle faded as the trees grew denser.

(What do I do?)

And just like that, I lost sight of him.

(If I wander around blindly, I'll just get even more lost. But still…)

As I stood there helpless, someone gently took my hand.

(Huh?)

I turned around, and there he was.

Ranmaru: "What's a lady doing wandering around alone this late at night?"

(Ranmaru…)

The one I had been searching for was now looking slightly troubled.

Mai: "Sorry. I saw you in the castle and just followed you without thinking."

That alone seemed to tell him everything he needed to know.

Ranmaru: "Being alone in the forest in the middle of the night is dangerous."

His previously tense expression softened.

Ranmaru: "Someone should be by your side on a night like this."

(Ah…)

Still holding my hand, he began to walk.

Ranmaru: "This way."

He led me deeper into the forest.

As we continued, the trees thinned, revealing a clearer view of the stars overhead.

(A field of flowers.)

Under the moonlight, vibrant blossoms bloomed in full glory.

The breathtaking sight put my heart at ease.

Ranmaru: "This spot should be good."

He stopped at the edge of the flower field.

Ranmaru: "I came here tonight to bury this."

Turning to me, he finally showed me what he'd been carrying.

(A small… urn?)

When he tilted it slightly, it made a dry, rattling sound.

Ranmaru: "These are the remains of someone who passed away."

(Wait.)

Mai: "Whose… remains?"

Ranmaru: "Someone who was suspected of being connected to the attack on Lord Nobunaga. They were captured."

Mai: "Ah…"

What flashed through my mind was the day I first set foot in Azuchi Castle.

(That person…)

(I'd heard they refused to say anything and chose death instead.)

I couldn't take my eyes off the urn, and Ranmaru gave a faint, sorrowful smile.

Ranmaru: "I wanted to return the remains to their family, but they said this person had no known relatives."

Ranmaru: "They died alone, so I just wanted to give them a proper farewell at the very least."

Mai: "Let me help."

(It's the least I can do.)

Ranmaru: "Thank you."

A moment later, a soft voice spoke beside me.

Ranmaru: "You're so kind, Lady Mai—even to someone you didn't know."

Mai: "You're the same."

Ranmaru: "Me? No, I just…"

Once again, silence fell between us.

This time, I was the one who broke it.

Mai: "Actually, I saw this person once, back when they were still alive."

Mai: "I kind of know what happened to him."

Mai: "I get that, in this era, things like that were considered necessary, and I'm not trying to judge the people in the castle, but..."

(I get it. In my head, I do. But…)

Mai: "But I still feel guilty for looking the other way."

Ranmaru: "Looking the other way?"

Mai: "Yeah. I thought there was nothing I could do—even if I did speak up."

Mai: "So when I saw him being dragged away—limp and silent—I didn't even try to help."

Ranmaru: "I see."

He nodded slightly, his eyes dropping to the ground.

Ranmaru: "But I don't think he would ever blame you for that."

(Huh?)

He probably said that to ease my guilt.

(But why does it sound like he actually knows that?)

I couldn't bring myself to nod and accept it.

Then—

Ranmaru: "It's okay."

His gaze lifted to meet mine, warm and steady.

Ranmaru: "The real you is someone who follows her sense of justice, even when she's not sure it'll change anything."

Mai: "Um, I don't know if that's true."

Ranmaru: "Hmm, no self-awareness, huh? Yeah, I figured it'd be hard for you to agree."

Ranmaru: "But that's exactly why I admire you."

(Me?)

Mai: "Isn't it the other way around? I mean, I should be the one saying I admire you."

Ranmaru: "No. I mean it. Ever since that day."

Mai: "That day…?"

(What day is he talking about?)

He continued speaking, his voice calm and steady.

Ranmaru: "You know, a page doesn't serve alone."

Ranmaru: "Among the others who served close to Lord Nobunaga like I did, there were a few I was particularly close to."

(Were? Past tense?)

Ranmaru: "They're right over there."

He lifted his arm slowly and pointed.

At first, I didn't see anything. But then I noticed it—a single branch, quietly marked by a tiny flower.

Ranmaru: "The actual grave is somewhere else. I just buried a lock of their hair here."

(A lock of hair.)

A sharp pain jolted through my chest.

Even so, I couldn't stop myself from asking.

Mai: "So… they're already…?"

Ranmaru: "Yeah. They're no longer in this world."

Ranmaru: "When Lord Nobunaga was attacked at Honnō-ji, they fought back against the assailants—but never returned."

Ranmaru's face twisted in pain, contorted with regret.

Ranmaru: "I couldn't do anything. I couldn't stop it."

Ranmaru: "If I had been more like you—able to act without hesitation—maybe none of it would have happened."

Mai: "..………"

(That day… he meant the Honnō-ji Incident.)

Even as a flood of thoughts surged through my mind, I couldn't form a single coherent one. All I could do was breathe, overwhelmed.

Then, Ranmaru gave a smile—so gentle it was heartbreaking.

Ranmaru: "It was my fault. All of it."

This isn't a full translation, as translating a whole chapter would take me hours.

[shesgaymichaelscott]

Confessional

requested by/written for @basicaffff <3

(wlw nun x reader!, pining, lust, smut, bottom!reader)

Word Count: 1.6k

You don't usually come here this late. Not at night.

But something about the chapel at dusk draws you in tonight. Maybe it's the stillness. Maybe it's the need that's been growing under your skin for weeks—silent, shameful, and impossible to name.

The heavy door creaks behind you, and the cold air kisses your neck as you step inside. Stained glass casts slanted shadows across the pews. Your shoes make a soft tap on the stone floor, and you try not to feel like every sound you make is a sin.

She's already here.

Sister Lily.

Kneeling at the altar like she belongs to the architecture itself, all soft curves beneath a black robe, Her veil drapes down her back like silk ink. She doesn't turn to look at you. She never does. And yet somehow, she always knows.

You watch her for too long before you tear your gaze away. You shouldn't be thinking the things you're thinking. Not about her. Not here.

The confessional waits like an open mouth.

You slip inside.

The wood smells of incense and polish. It creaks beneath you, and you sit with your hands twisted in your lap like you're twelve years old again.

Then the small panel beside you slides open.

A beat of silence.

"Peace be with you," Sister Lily says, voice low and lilting.

You exhale slowly. "And also with you."

You try to swallow the knot in your throat.

"I've... I've been having thoughts," you begin, voice shaking. "About someone I shouldn't."

"Mm." A hum, thoughtful. "And what makes them inappropriate?"

"They're not pure."

"And what does purity mean to you?"

You falter. "It means not wanting things I shouldn't."

"And what do you want?" she asks softly.

Silence. The air between you thickens.

"I want her to touch me," you whisper, ashamed. "And I want to touch her. I want to know what it's like. To feel that kind of closeness. But it's wrong. I know it's wrong."

You can almost hear the shift in her posture. Something unspoken tightens the air.

"It's not wrong to want connection," Sister Lily says. "To crave comfort. To ache for closeness. We were made for touch, for warmth. Even Christ accepted the hands of others."

You blink.

"But this... this is different. I think about her mouth. I dream about her voice. I wake up and I'm—burning."

"Burning," she repeats. There's something darkly amused in her tone now. "That sounds very biblical."

You cover your face with your hands, your cheeks hot. "I shouldn't have come."

"But you did."

Silence again.

"You came here because you trust me. Don't you?"

"...Yes."

You feel it then—a shift in the air. The confession no longer feels like sanctuary. It feels like a wire pulled tight.

"I think," Sister Lily says carefully, "you're confusing temptation with revelation."

You look toward the panel. You can barely see her outline. But you can feel her gaze.

"Tell me this," she continues. "Is it desire that frightens you? Or the fact that you want it to be me?"

Your breath hitches.

She knows.

"You can say it," she says, her voice velvet-smooth. "Say my name."

"Sister Lily," you breathe.

"Good girl."

You press your knees together. The praise curls around your spine like smoke.

"Come," she says, the panel sliding closed. "Let's speak where we can look each other in the eye."

You open the confessional door and step out. She's waiting—half in shadow, half in gold-stained light. Her hands folded neatly in front of her, but her eyes... her eyes are not what you expect from a woman who's sworn herself to God.

They're deeper. Knowing. Almost hungry.

"I think," she murmurs, "you're overdue for a little clarity. Let me help you understand what it is you're really feeling."

And you—still trembling, still burning—nod.

Sister Lily's quarters are warm. Clean. There's a crucifix above her bed, a candle burning low on her desk. Her veil is folded on the chair, and her sleeves are rolled just past her wrists. The neckline of her gown has loosened, just slightly. Just enough to show the pale skin of her throat.

She doesn't invite you to sit.

She just looks at you.

"You're trembling," she says, stepping closer.

"I'm not used to... this," you say, barely louder than breath.

"Being seen?" she asks. "Or being wanted?"

Both. God, both.

You don't answer. You can't.

She reaches up—slowly, giving you time to pull away—but you don't. Her fingers brush under your chin. Tilt your face up. Her thumb traces your lower lip.

"I could taste your confession on your voice," she murmurs. "You've been aching. Longing. Guilt clings to you like perfume. And underneath that... you're curious, aren't you?"

You nod, helpless.

"I want to help you," she says again, lower now. "But not with prayer."

Your breath catches. Your thighs press together before you even realize it.

"I want to help you feel all the things you've been too afraid to name."

Her fingers trail from your chin down your neck. Light as a thought. You gasp at how soft her touch is. How heavy it feels anyway.

"I shouldn't want this," you whisper.

"But you do," she says, voice like heat against your skin. "And you don't have to hide it anymore."

Her hands drift to your hips. You feel her thumbs press there—firm, grounding.

"I want you to tell me," she says, leaning closer, her lips just by your ear. "What it is you think about when you wake up aching."

You flush hard, pulse hammering in your chest.

"Do you imagine my mouth?" she whispers. "My fingers?"

Your eyes flutter shut.

"Yes," you breathe.

Her hands slide around your waist, slow and patient, as if memorizing the shape of your want.

"Do you touch yourself when you think of me?" she asks, mouth brushing your jaw now.

You shiver. "I try not to."

"But you do."

You nod, ashamed.

"No shame," she says firmly, pulling you flush against her. "Say it. Tell me it feels good."

Your breath stutters as her thigh slips between yours, her hands still warm on your back.

"It... it feels good."

Her nose drags along your cheek. "And you want more."

"I do," you whisper, so quiet it barely escapes.

"Then let me show you," she says, and this time when she presses her lips to yours, it isn't tentative. It's deep. Certain. Her hands slide down your back, pulling you tighter, aligning you perfectly against the thigh she's pressed between your legs.

You gasp into her mouth, the friction sharp and dizzying. Your hands grasp at the fabric of her habit, grounding yourself as you rock forward, helpless to stop it.

She moans low in her throat—barely restrained—and breaks the kiss to murmur, "Good girl. Let yourself feel it."

Her hands are everywhere now. Guiding. Encouraging. Teasing.

"I don't know what I'm doing," you whisper against her mouth.

"I do," she breathes, her voice a velvet promise. "Just let me take care of you."

And God—there's no part of you that doubts she means it.

She walks you backward slowly, hands never leaving you, until the backs of your knees brush her bed. She guides you down like you're fragile. Reverent. Her hands stroke over your thighs, your stomach, your ribs—never rushing, never assuming.

When she unbuttons your blouse, she watches your face. When she slides it off your shoulders, her knuckles brush your skin like she's afraid she'll break you.

"You're beautiful," she says, like it's sacred. "I've thought about this. Wanted this. But not until you did. Not like this."

Your breath shudders as she lays you back on the sheets. Her hands trail down your sides, fingers trembling just slightly. She's still in her habit, black fabric ghosting over your bare skin as she lowers herself over you.

You gasp when her mouth finds your neck. Her teeth graze, never biting—but she kisses you just below your jaw like she's branding you.

"Can I touch you here?" she whispers, fingers resting at the waistband of your skirt.

"Yes," you breathe, already aching for more.

She slips it down slow, along with your underwear. The air is cool on your thighs, but her hands are warm—hot, even—as they settle between them.

"Open for me," she says gently. "Just like that."

You obey, breathless, trembling as she settles between your legs. Her fingers stroke along your inner thighs first, feather-light, teasing.

And then—she touches you.

Just once, just the lightest brush, and your whole body arches.

"Oh—"

She watches your face as she does it again. A little more pressure. A little more rhythm. Her eyes are dark, locked on yours like prayer.

"That's it," she whispers. "Feel it. Don't hide it."

Your hand finds hers. Not to stop her—but to anchor yourself. You're falling apart too fast, too hard.

And still she keeps going. Circling. Stroking. Pushing you closer with practiced grace and a maddening patience. Every time you twitch, she murmurs praise.

"You're doing so well, sweetheart." "Let it happen, just like that." "God, you're perfect like this."

It builds fast. Too fast. Your hips are rocking against her hand, your moans swallowed against her throat as she presses kisses to your shoulder, your chest, anywhere she can reach. She slips one finger inside you—slow, careful—and you cry out.

She stills. "Okay?"

You nod frantically. "Please, please—don't stop—"

She kisses your mouth as she starts to move again, slow and deliberate, curling just right.

You're shaking.

You come apart with her name on your lips like a prayer—raw and helpless—your body seizing, then softening, every inch of you melting into her touch.

And she holds you. Hand still between your thighs, mouth soft against your cheek.

"That's it," she whispers. "That's what it feels like. That's what you needed."

You nod, too overwhelmed to speak. Your breath is ragged, your fingers still laced with hers.

When she finally pulls away, she kisses your forehead and brushes the hair from your face like a benediction.

"I'm here," she says quietly. "As long as you want me." Then she smiles—just a little wicked, just enough to make your stomach flip. "And if you're a good girl, maybe tomorrow we'll continue your... spiritual education."

[shurup-overt]

the terukane development still blows off my mind because what do you mean akane considers himself telling teru to go away while he's on a date with aoi an ooc thing. I grew up in a time when "hearing sorry from you is creepy" was legit his most normal and calmest response

ashamed to admit but I'm still there. my mind is still there. and then I watch in pure horror how akane caresses teru's back

[antiques-anon-tma]

a-alright

[he took a look around on his own. He noticed, but didn't put any thought towards, the fact that rather strangely he felt a bit less anxious being away from Elias. Some small part of him even noticed the feeling of being watched fading, not entirely going away, but fading. He was too preoccupied with finding something he liked to dwell much on that though, and dismissed the thoughts.

Despite suspecting its not quite what Elias was going to be hoping for him to have chosen, Syl ends up with a couple more of the slightly dull wool sweater vests he has more than enough of at home already]

Hello, dear. If you are free today, i would appreciate you joining me on a shopping trip. I will be waiting for you in my office.

- @eliasbouchardofficial

of course! I'll be right there.

[he takes a second to finish up what he's doing in storage, and then makes his way up to Elias' office]

[sysig]

*chanting* Second pet, second pet, second pet! (Patreon)

[cq-studios]

Wake up. Missing Link was never cancelled. This last month was all just a bad dream.

It wasn't real. It wasn't real. It wasn't real. It wasn't real. It wasn't real. It wasn't-

[turtlecleric]

.

[booksandberries]

yknow what i wish i had more people i looked up to

[weirdo-with-a-nametag]

If you're my friend... I think about you a lot.

[queer-reader-07]

.

[maryellencarter]

i think the hill i'm going to die on here is that lasting anti-fascist activism begins and ends with unrestricted social services.

protests are great. kind of indispensable right now. but in times when we can be less reactive, you want to know what you're protesting *for*, not just against.

today i saw a post elseweb saying "why aren't white women fleeing maga? they have to know by now that tradwife means sex slave". and like... it's very simple. they can't leave because they would end up like me.

they're, we're, deliberately made unemployable so that we'll have to marry whatever mediocre white man picks us out. as it happened, i was unappealingly intersex, fat, butch, and autistic, so none of the mediocre white boys of my generation ever took a second look at me, but that didn't give me job skills or career connections.

i knew multiple women whose husbands divorced them and took the house as part of their midlife crises. they had to send the kids to live with relatives and take dead-end jobs like bagging groceries because they were in their forties with zero job experience. if they'd rejected the worldview, if they'd alienated their families and what few friends didn't victim-blame them for the divorces, they'd have had nowhere to turn.

it's been over twelve years since i got out. psychologically, medically, i'm healthier. but i've chased a fresh start through half a dozen states. i spent my inheritance getting a degree. none of it helped. there are no supports for abandoning (or being abandoned by) your support network.

you won't defeat fascism until my people are free to leave the cult if they realize they want out. until we can access free housing to get away from financial abuse, free comprehensive job training and placement services to help us start careers, national healthcare so we can flee across state lines if necessary without losing any medical care we're lucky enough to have access to, protections for children and teens so they can flee without needing a parent's help... universal basic income would be really good but there are smaller steps that could help with financial independence.

and it all has to be available to everybody, including people you think are "unworthy". people who hold the wrong opinions. drug addicts. people whose husbands or parents make too much money. people who aren't from around here. unrepentant bigots. if they want out, you have to give them a path out. minds can change later, once people are less scared and less pressured.

(i'm ex-catholic. do you want to hear about what happens when you force people to profess certain beliefs in order to access basic assistance? i have two thousand years of examples.)

"but if they really wanted out they'd do the Right Thing and leave without support!" Better to be one man's sex slave than turning tricks on the street. "staying just proves they're actually evil and there for the bigotry!" Live in your car for six months in 100°F heat, twice, and then talk to me again. There's no virtue in cutting yourself off from society just to prove some kind of moral point. All that does is get you dead or worse.

("JT, you're not dead" I'm a fucking cockroach. Most people would be dead by now. Survival bias goes both ways; we're not all the same model of airplane.)

[neverendingford]

.