#[ written code ]

[disappointingcabbage]

Is it weird that I’ve made up two completely original written ciphers (might be the wrong word, idk each “cipher” has a symbol that corresponds to each letter in the English alphabet plus numbers and some punctuation, follows the same rules as the English alphabet/language minus caps) without studying linguistics and without learning any real alphabets besides the English one because I feel like making up silly little secret codes is a new special interest of mine but also I have literally never done research into the history of written language/alphabets so idk

[peascribbles]

sylus x gn!reader, menstruating reader, domestic fluff, sfw

Operation: defend your ice cream stash from Sylus begins today.

You've had enough of finding a barren desert in the freezer, devoid of sweet treats. He always leaves the evidence of his crimes for you to uncover. Bowl and spoon in the sink, slick with the melting remnants. Discarded tub peeking out the trash bin. The occasional note with a devilish winky face on the countertop. Each a cruel twist of the knife.

Your grief is doubly felt when he deprives you of life's one joy during your period. No, it doesn't matter that he always restocks the freezer til it struggles to close right after. It's the principle of the robbery in the first place that incenses you.

Luke and Kieran sneak in a clandestine package under the cover of morning, while he's still asleep. Inside is a world class, custom built, state-of-the-art safe you've commissioned for this express purpose; constructed using antimatter coated steel to dissuade him from blasting it open with his Evol.

You have no doubts about his ability to break into things the normal way, so you've designed the safe to have multiple doors which protect its contents.

For appearances only, the outer door is a mundane dial lock. He'll crack it in maybe two seconds flat. What it should do is ping your phone and alert you to the imminent break in attempt. Behind it are a series of increasingly difficult cryptographic puzzles that must be solved within a minute to proceed.

The safe's final bulwark is a stroke of genius, if you say so yourself; a singing test with an inbuilt microphone where he must stay reasonably in pitch. An assuredly insurmountable trial for him, and therefore, an impenetrable defense for your precious desserts from his bottomless gluttony.

With the twins' help, you manoeuvre the safe into the freezer. You place your last tub of ice cream into it and perform the necessary double- and triple checks. Bolts are secured. Puzzles are set and ready to go. Microphone tested to ensure it's functional.

You leave for work daring to hope for the best.

—

Hours teetering on the edge of your seat. Paranoia mounting with the radio silence. You should be happy. It could be he's decided to leave your treat alone, but it can't be that easy. You're well aware of just how tenacious and greedy he can be.

Your phone pings during your lunch break.

Determined to catch Sylus red handed, you leap into action, pulling it out of your pocket. Your finger is a millimetre away from pressing the speed dial when you notice that the notification isn't from the safe's alarm system.

It's a message from him.

The food you just ate lurches in your stomach. That can't be good. You tap to view it, the stirrings of trepidation and resignation joining your barely-digested meal.

He's sent an image of the safe. The dial lock is busted open, all the cryptographic puzzles solved. Both outcomes within the realm of possibilities you considered. Your piece de resistance, the singing challenge, is still intact, so why..?

Ah. A perfect circle has been cut into the side of the safe. Its contents empty. You spot the tub in the foreground, also empty.

Cut off in the corner of the picture is a perplexing device you don't quite recognise. From what you can tell, it looks like a gun without a barrel or a trigger.

His accompanying voice message plays.

Nice try, sweetie. He sounds breathless, as if he's been laughing too hard. The mirth that brightens his voice is infectious, and though you want to be mad right now, a pleasant warmth and the beginnings of a smile tugs at your cheeks. I do wonder where you found a manufacturer willing to do antimatter coating for a... personal project such as this. Flipping through his business contacts while he was away, of course. That thing is a gold mine.

Ringing sharp through your speaker, two solid objects clink together. Teeth against a spoon. However, the microphone you installed must not be working. No matter how well I performed, it never let me in. A pleased noise from the back of his throat. This flavour's delicious, by the way.

How shameless of him to eat your ice cream while he recorded this—this declaration of victory, you realise. He's gloating. Feasting on his bounty. Oh, when you get home, you're going to—

Before you plan your revenge, let me propose a moratorium, his voice message continues, reading your mind. Why does he always do that? I've seen your sincere efforts to protect what's valuable to you. So, I won't touch your ice cream for a month. Use it to refine your defenses.

I'll give you a few hints to start: find better quality antimatter next time. And you did forget about the extensive tools in the workshop.

You finally recognise the object on the counter.

The freezer's already been refilled. See you at home, sweetie. The message ends with an indulgent chuckle.

His words don't register for a solid minute. You're reeling from this latest revelation. Just to steal your ice cream—

He used a fucking laser gun to cut a hole in the safe?

If a puny laser was able to penetrate the coating, then his Evol would have torn it like paper. Which means he went out of his way to go to the basement workshop, retrieve the laser gun, and cut a hole in it, because he could.

You're doing two things when you get home.

One, send a complaint to the manufacturer for a shoddy product.

And two, have some of that ice cream when he's not looking.

This operation has been a failure of unimaginable proportion, but no matter; you have a month to plot and plan. You'll come back stronger than ever.

[podcast-hemocytoblast]

What if when Michael got Distortioned he/they/it/(?) had just kept showing up to work? Imagine Gertrude comes into the archives and finds a bunch of paperwork filled out in yellow highlighter and folded into impossible shapes, and then Michael-Distortion just walks into the room door-style and sits down at his work computer so it can email Gertrude a phishing scam.

[bratbby333]

was just thinkin about gojo if he played college baseball and it kinda spiraled from there…

baseballplayer!satoru who never misses the chance to show off—especially if you’re watching.

he is most definitely the starting pitcher. are you kidding? the aura? the charisma? the energy? he’s cocky and a total diva because he’s the team’s ace. their defensive lineup is nothing without his skills.

baseballplayer!satoru who has your initials stitched on his glove.

he is so superstitious and ritualistic that he will only wear his lucky batting gloves if you hand them to him. he’ll even throw a fit if you don’t give him a good luck kiss before the game because he’s absolutely certain that you’re the reason he’s preforming so well.

he’s not obnoxious about PDA (anymore), but he does always have a hand on your waist or around your shoulders. physical contact of some kind is a must or he’ll get pouty.

baseballplayer!satoru who loves all the snacks you pack for him. he claims he plays better when they come from you and he refuses to get anything store-bought because they don’t ‘taste the same’.

baseballplayer!satoru who gets mildly offended when you cheer too loudly for his teammates or even mention an opposing team.

he pouts and starts to sulk, his eyes narrowing in mock-suspicion. “i’m literally the best player on the field. you wouldn’t betray me like that…right…?” you just giggle and roll your eyes in response, squishing his cheeks fondly. he’s definitely still pouting, but it’s all facade. he’s actively trying not to smile and is hiding the fact that he’s melting on the inside at the sound of your laugh.

baseballplayer!satoru who always pushes himself to the limit and is absolutely exhausted after practice.

he’ll flop himself onto the bed, curling up against you with a huff. “babyyy…my body hurts. please love on me. it’s the only thing that’ll make me feel better.” and after about two minutes of head scratches he's out cold, head firmly planted on your chest as his fingers curl around your shirt. so big and bad on the field but turns to putty in your arms.

he’ll take you on long drives with no destination in mind, especially after a tiring day. the windows are down as the wind whistles through the car. the music is low, the melody soft and peaceful. his hand rests on your thigh, his fingers tracing idle patterns on your skin.

he talks about his dreams of going pro, but always ending with, “as long as you’re there, i don’t care where i end up. and when i make it big, im taking you with me. first-class. forever.”

baseballplayer!satoru who sometimes sneaks you onto the field after-hours.

he teaches you how to hold a bat, how to throw a pitch, and would most definitely make terrible innuendos the entire time. “Gotta get a firm grip, sweetheart. Can’t swing properly if you don’t wrap your hands around it just right.” you almost laugh. almost. “Don’t be shy. Give it everything you’ve got. Full body movement. Trust me—hips make all the difference.” this one earns him a soft slap to his bicep as you roll your eyes, but the smile on your face and warmth in your cheeks tells him everything he needs to know.

you show up for him every single day, on and off the field. but don’t think he doesn’t also support you 100%. in fact, his reciprocity always goes above and beyond. when you do something amazing—ace a test, get a promotion, anything—he leaves a gift box on your pillow or takes you somewhere nice. sometimes, he wears your name written on tape over the back of his jersey just to make a point.

“gotta let ‘em know who i play for.”

baseballplayer!satoru who takes you to all the college ragers and keg parties with him.

if someone starts flirting with you, he keeps his cool. however, he will slide in behind you, his arms snaking around your waist as he presses a few kisses to your neck. he’ll cast a sly glance at the person before looking down at you, “sorry, this one’s taken. isn’t that right, sweetheart?” he’d say, his smirk never wavering.

baseballplayer!satoru when he wears his backwards baseball cap and smirks down at you? dangerous. at first, he didn’t understand the effects—fidgeting with his hats is a compulsion at this point. but once he figured it out? he does it on purpose. he loves that it drives you crazy.

sometimes, during a heated makeout session, he’ll take it off and put it on you. he pauses, giving himself a moment to drink in the sight of you—lips swollen and eyes low. you gaze up at him with the cutest little smile while his thumbs trace your cheeks. he can’t help but bite his lip and mutter, “shit. you’re gonna be the death of me.”

and after a big win, he’s so hyped up and absolutely buzzing with adrenaline that he almost doesn’t make it all the way home. he pins you against the wall the second the door closes, growling in your ear, “i need you. now.”

his calloused hands run along your body as he roughly tugs on your clothes, lips sucking on your soft flesh while he nips at your skin.

baseballplayer!satoru who has an undeniable praise kink. i guess that's why he's such good team player...

he runs his mouth like it’s second nature—on the field, in the locker room, and especially when you’re beneath him. he's downright filthy. this man is obnoxiously confident, downright obsessed with you, and dangerously good with his words… he whispers praise and filth in the same breath, telling you how good you feel, how pretty you sound, and especially how lucky he is to have you like this. all his. “you like watching me on the field, baby? bet you like this more, huh?” he’s driven by his deep rooted desire for you to always know how badly he wants you. every moan, every arch of your back, every flutter of your lashes drives him crazy, and he’s not shy about saying it. “you hear that? that’s allll you. sounding so damn pretty for me.” “look at you—fuck, i don’t deserve this…my pretty girl—i don’t deserve you.” he gets especially talkative when you’re being quiet. if you try to bite back your sounds, he’ll go feral trying to break you open with his voice alone. “cmon, baby. don’t hide it. let me hear how good i make you feel.” you already know he’s got so much stamina, and if you don’t answer him the way he likes, he’ll thrust even harder, burying himself even deeper, trying to get those sweet sounds to fall from your lips once more. “say it, pretty girl. say who’s making you feel this good.”

and, when it’s just the two of you, the rest world fading into background noise, he’s soft in ways that only you get to see.

in his mind, he'd happily trade teasing smirks for sleepy smiles, his constant sexual innuendos for whispered “i love you’s,” and baseball caps for hoodie-covered cuddles. he still talks a big game, of course. that will never change. but now it’s about the future he wants with you, the tiny apartment he wants to share, the warm meals after practice, the wins you’ll celebrate together.

because to satoru, success means nothing if you're not by his side. you were always the real home run. his most valuable win.

author note! i know this has probably been done before but i have personally never read/seen any gojo x baseball before and the urge to write my own headcannons was too intense to ignore. i hope y'all enjoyed!

dividers from @/cafekitsune

[bevioletskies]

thame looking at po: episode 1 vs. episode 6

[walking-rotting-trash]

Lets go girls!

[cozymochi]

Hiii I can pls get a totally not for research purposes Q of

Pet peeves: What are your twst OC's pet peeves and which one in the cast accidentally (or not) commit the "crimes"? How will your twst OC deal with that person?

for the snake man of everyone’s dreams?

Nyoka’s major peeve is being disturbed in any capacity.

I can see somebody like Grim bothering him, if only on accident. Be it crashing into him in the midst of a food shenanigan or anything that would cause his peace to be thrown off. Seems like an unfortunate encounter that would happen a lot. Even then, I don’t know if he would do much except be agitated and depending on the circumstance might scheme later as a form of real payback if he reaches a limit.

He’d eat Grim if he didn’t taste terrible. Maybe that Prefect should be doing their job.

Implying that he’s bitten him before lmfao

Optional further clarification yapping under cut.

Technically, within Savanaclaw Nyoka is disturbed almost constantly if he leaves his room. If he’s not needed for some activity or classes he’s usually in his room or somewhere else out of the way.

Majority of Savanaclaw students are pretty hotheaded, so that can be a problem for Nyoka who by nature isn’t confrontational. He’s a cobra beastman, that’s not really their game. He’s not passive per se, but would rather not get his hands dirty. He especially will not want to do so if outnumbered, and lots of students in that dorm do run in packs.

It kind of ends up lending into the perception within that dorm that he’s docile and easy to trample over (literally and figuratively). In a way, sure, but that’d be a surface level read.

He can be pretty vicious, but he mostly saves that for his mouth (in many ways). He has a formal way of speaking but anything he says can be harsh and biting. No pun intended.

So, if he is disturbed at least within the context of his dorm, most of time nothing will happen except now he’s agitated and on the defense.

If he can avoid confrontation, he will. If he can’t and it persists, then the aggressor will get their dues tenfold when they least expect it. Case by case of course. 🫡 Never confront a cobra’s space that’s asking for trouble. He’s in that dorm for a reason. He won’t forget about it.

[goatunderthebridge]

Tendou knew that Ushijima took things in the literal sense. He would misunderstand phrases, take idioms for gospel, and flounder at abstract metaphors. Tendou knew all of that, but he hadn't exactly thought about what extent that literalness would take.

When Tendou had returned back from visiting his family in France, he hugged Ushijima tightly, winding them both. When Ushijima asked why he did it, Tendou declared that was what people did when they missed someone. It was a passing phrase, just one moment out of many that Tendou had spent explaining to Ushijima something small and obscure and not meant to be taken seriously at all. He should've known better than that. Ushijima took everything seriously.

Tendou had only been off sick for a few days with a cold. He'd been resigned to his bed until he fully recovered, not chancing passing it on to the team. But he had only stepped a couple feet into the Shiratorizawa gym before someone had grabbed him and wrapped him tightly in a hug, squeezing the frail bit of life barely left in him.

Tendou saw a flash of dark green hair and tanned skin, putting two and two together. He patted Ushijima's back as best he could with his restrained arms, "Uh, bud? What are you doing?"

"This is what people do when they have missed someone," Ushijima returns flatly, his arms still wrapped tightly around Tendou. "I have missed you."

Heat creeps onto Tendou's face and he's glad at that moment, as the other boys start to crowd around them and question what they're doing, that they can't see his face as he lets it fall into the crook of Ushijima's neck.

"I've missed you too, bud." Tendou mumbles back with a smile.

[sammygender]

girlcoded sam readings are like. his arcs are so tied up with control and bodily autonomy and sexual assault and otherness and cleanness and a desire for freedom and rebellion against oppressive masculine forces to the point where an examination of his show-long arcs looks like a thesis on The Female Gothic. he’s never afforded the respect or the power of characters like john and dean and is in fact narratively punished whenever he isn’t subservient to them. both the show itself and the fandom surrounding it treat him like dean’s bitch wife. he is textually compared to female characters multiple times, by the narrative and by dean.

and then meanwhile girlcoded dean readings are like. Eldest daughter core! (his father handed down ultimate control over every aspect of sam’s life once he died like a family heirloom)(he is THE patriarch). Yes he does the cooking yes he does the cleaning (which he doesn’t even…. and even if he solely did all the housework how does that make him Girl Coded unless it’s being delegated exclusively to him like its his role and he’s punished for not conforming to it… which is not happening…).

like girlcoded dean readings rely on stereotypes about women in real life. girlcoded sam readings rely on noticing how much the narrative constructed around sam falls into tropes used in fiction almost always about women. even things like his psychic powers! the way people are always swarming around trying to ‘corrupt’ him! the fixation on his purity and innocence! the two readings are very different things

[viveela]

A style comic I just had to get out of my system

[dhhdss-rr]

[beady-eyed-munson]

Eddie is the type of guy to touch and look through all the stuff in your room

youre letting him do his thing when you turn around to see him in a big fuzzy hat you have no idea where it came from and a bra clipped on over his tshirt

hes stood there giggling while squeezing the cups

"Take that off"

"Oh sorry" he smiles and he puts the hat on the desk

[strwbnnie]

Part 2 of the Tokyo Rev. Occupation Series!

tw: mentions weight/body type, insecurity/self-consciousness, slight age gap—I imagined the reader in her early 20’s & Taiju is 7 years older, gym owner!taiju, personal trainer x client, riding. mdni

૮꒰ྀི⸝⸝> . <⸝⸝꒱ྀིა Personal Trainer!Taiju ૮꒰ྀི⸝⸝> . <⸝⸝꒱ྀིა

─────────────────────────

Personal Trainer!Taiju’s whole personality is being strong lmao, it’s only right he spends his days making others who are willing strong too. Nearing thirty and he still has the body of a god and his confidence is through the roof, a powerhouse of a man, he is. Whether he’s training someone or working on his own physique, he’s in the gym Monday through Saturday. Sunday’s are for church of course, and that’s his day to unwind.

He remembers the first time you showed up at his gym, excited and eager but still too timid. You looked so cute with your pink gym bag and matching gallon water jug. A shy, chubby little thing who knew not a damn thing about fitness, but you finally decided to get on your zoom. Your words, not his. You weren’t looking for much more than someone who could get you ready for a ‘hot girl summer.’ Again, your words, not his.

In all honesty, you looked just fine to him—sexy and plump with some belly for him to grab. You’d definitely look good in a string bikini. Your ass is a little square but that’s nothing heavy squatting and medius kickbacks can’t fix. All in all, you look good enough to eat in his opinion.

Even still, he agreed to help get you where you wanted to be. No fad diets, just a caloric deficit and protein prioritization. He still allowed you to eat some of your fav foods, in moderation of course, since the issue wasn’t really what you ate, it’s how you ate. Often skipping breakfast, sometimes lunch too if your shitty corporate job didn’t give you a break during your shift, relying on sweet and salty snacks from the vending machines to carry you through the day and binging a huge dinner later in the night. As much as he dislikes it, there isn’t much he can do once you step foot out of those glass doors.

As a matter of fact, another thing he dislikes, is that you lack discipline. That’s why when you’re here he never goes easy on you. You’re as lazy as you are cute—skimping on weight, skipping sets, strolling on the treadmill when he suggests a light jog…you certainly don’t act like someone who’s working towards a six month goal.

Regardless, he puts up with you. You’re a breath of fresh air in his hectic life, plus you’re easier on the eyes than the delinquents that frequent his gym. He loves how tight your gym shorts are, how they roll up when you walk. Loves staring at your ass while you do your dynamic stretches, especially loves how flustered you get when he stretches you out himself.

You’re even nice enough to stay til closing every now and then, helping the old man out. It’s the least you can do since he’s been so supportive of your fitness journey. One day, you’re just teasing, asking him if he even knows what a hot girl summer is ‘since he’s old and all’ and you certainly don’t expect his answer.

“It’s when pretty girls like you go out to be sluts. Wearin’ tiny little bikinis, shakin’ ass. Hoe’in around in Miami before you’re put up for the winter? Right?” At least that’s how he saw it.

You have a look on your face. He can’t tell if you’re amused or insulted but he doesn’t stop teasing.

“Drunk on the beach, gettin’ fucked in public bathrooms, all that good stuff. That’s what you like, Y/N? That why you wanna get in shape?” He’s still walking around placing plates and dumbbells in their respective corners. You’re helping of course, wiping benches, machines and bars with Clorox wipes before putting those back in place too.

He may have had a good 7 years on you but he kept up. Stayed hip to all the thing’s you young girls liked to do. Truth be told, the blue haired brute was ready to give you a run for your money. He honestly didn’t see the hype of ‘hot girl summer’ when he could slut you out all year round.

He wasn’t necessarily wrong. Girls like you often got overlooked, and although that didn’t stop much, you still found yourself craving the attention that smaller girls got.

“Is that bad?”

He’s almost taken aback. Of course he was just joking, but there was something about the tone of your voice, it was so…hopeful?

“Of course not. Nothing wrong with havin’ fun y/n. I told ya�� I’d get you ready and I meant it.”

***

And mean it, he did.

“Don’t tell me you can’t handle this.” He says it like it’s the easiest thing in the world, that evil smirk plastered on his face, brows furrowed. “This ain’t no place for the weak, Y/N.”

“I’m not weak, you’re just s-so big!” You pout, and goddamit it’s cute, but he sees none of that. He has no sympathy, since you asked for this the minute you stepped into his gym and opened your pretty little mouth.

“You feel it here and here, right?” He runs his large hands up your hammies, then over your quads, fingertips ghosting over your belly cus’ he knows you feel it there too. Yes, your moans and mewls tell him just that, sounds he’d probably never get the luxury of indulging in had he simply stuck to tasking you with lugging around dumbbells.

Your calves and ankles are quite literally on fire as well and you’re feeling it in every single muscle in your legs, but you keep bouncing. Bottom lip sandwiched between your teeth and your pupils have made a home in the back of your skull as his cock mushes against your cervix with every slam of your hips. You look so pretty and fucked out, tits spilling out of your sports bra with every move you make. It hurts but it’s exhilarating, the stimulation makes you want to melt into a puddle of goo. He has to say he’s impressed, it’s not an ideal exercise but you’re pushing through it. Inhaling through your nose, exhaling through your mouth like he taught ya, taking every inch of him like it’s all you know how to do. Just like he knew you would. That’s why you’re his favorite client after all, he knew you’d never disappoint him.

[fandommothfreak]

I think movie buff Duke Thomas should force Jason to watch the LOTR movies and literature nerd Jason Todd should force Duke to read the books.

They should make a movie night out of it and then a weekly book club that's really just Jason periodically hacking comms during Duke's patrol so he can yell at him to finish each chapter like a deranged English teacher that follows you around at work. And then they should get into heated arguments about Tom Bombadil; and Duke should get really invested in overanalyzing all the poetry in the book trilogy; and Jason should rewatch all three movies like seven times at least so he can scribble thoughts into the margins of his paperback copies, write dissertations in his head about the effectiveness of different story changes, and cry at Sam's "But I can carry you!" without having to stop reading.

And then they should repeat all of this with The Hobbit. They're both a little psychotic about it and the rest of the family is tired.

[fawnontheweb]

ִֶָ𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ🐇་༘࿐

“ I am nothing if not beautiful ; 🩰🤍

[dollw0und]