#*train of thought derails and explodes*

[elaraskirbyart]

OK EVERYBODY HEAR ME OUT HERE

This is Tuff.

- Two toned, spiky hair

- Large head

- Oval body with directly attached feet

Here’s Tiff.

- Spiky hair

- Large head

- Oval body with directly attached feet

This Pokemon is Tinkatuff.

- Tinkatuff

- Spiky, two toned hair

- Large head

- Oval body with directly attached feet (sort of)

🤔

[ambrossart]

All right, I'm 100% unpacked and settled in my new apartment. By this time next week, I'll have the Paper Men preview up, and the full release will follow shortly after.

[lizardsfromspace]

One of the most fascinating people I ever met was someone who was in a screenwriting class with me. He was the only one in the class who got into writing in order to work in that most vibrant and story-centric of genres, pornography

He got up in front of class and confessed to his every psychosexual hangup. See, he became "fascinated" with porn ever since he stayed home from school one day when he was younger and saw the horny part of Cinemax. But according to him, "I could never get involved in it myself due to the performer's filthy natures". He wanted to be a writer because he hated everyone involved in porn and thought they were filthy, degenerate sluts, but by god he wanted to be the one telling them what filth to do

What was his dream project? Well, he wanted to make the first million dollar action porno. It would be an action piece starring a secret agent who was half Italian, half French, half Greek, all action, all sex. It would be like a James Bond movie but you actually get to see them bone. It was a million dollar movie that would absolutely take a lot more than one million to make

He described the central setpiece of his film: the hero is fighting a man on a train when - oh no! - the train derails! Just before entering the tunnel! And it explodes early! Luckily, the hero escapes. It's not the hero's fault that the train derailed and exploded before it entered the tunnel.

Sadly, I think he dropped the class. So now we'll never get to see more of his slut-shaming million dollar psychosexual confession

[thatgirlissopeculiar]

Walking back to my room with my food, about to sit down only to hear and feel a huge boom from somewhere outside. Mum checks Facebook and people from various places around my town are saying they heard/felt it.

My theory? Aliens.

[myfirstnameisagent]

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Civilian!Reader

Summary: You comfort Steve after a stressful mission.

Warnings: The stress is what happened with the exploding hospital, angst, hurt/comfort, Rumalow mention cause ew

He didn't need to tell you what happened. 

It was plastered on every screen all over the world. Rapid headlines fired across television screens and phones buzzed with every range of headlines. The whole world saw it unfold, and even if you didn't know all of it, you wouldn't have pressed him to tell you either. Despite your curiosity, you knew questions wouldn't bring him out of his current state. All you could do was wait.

Your legs curled up beneath you as you waited, the shower running behind the closed bathroom door. You'd taken the precautions as soon as you saw the headline yourself,  the apartment illuminated by your favorite candles and the warm glow of lamps. You weren't sure he'd come, it was rare he'd give you any warning on nights like these. When he couldn't stand being at the compound or his place, when he just needed to collide with something soft and that felt like home. 

The pipes squeaked as the water turned off, and the opening and closing of the shower thudded from the bathroom. You quickly picked up the book you were pretending to read, acting as if you weren't waiting for him. After a few more moments, the cloud of steam seemed to follow him into your bedroom. Blonde hair dark and damp, t-shirt sticking to still damp skin that under any other circumstances would have made your mouth water. But tonight wasn't that kind of night, at least, you didn't think so, at least not the way his shoulders sank as if he were Atlas himself, and the entire rock of a planet had been placed on his shoulders. He ran his towel over the back of his neck before discarding it into your hamper, not quite meeting your eyes. "Thank you, for letting me crash here." 

"You're welcome anytime." You said softly, reaching out to carefully take one of his larger hands into both of yours. He let himself be pulled, moving to sit on the edge of the bed. The stress of it all had written itself into the creases of his face, worry lines framing once bright blue eyes. You sat the book aside, moving to push up on your knees beside him, sinking into the soft mattress beneath. Your fingers gently traced his arms before making their way up to his shoulders, attempting to smooth out any tension you could. There was little give to his solid form, but it didn't stop you from attempting to soothe him anyway. 

"It's my fault." He said after a stretched moment of silence. His hands folded and pressed against his nose as if he were lost in an endless prayer. Everything that ever happened to his team, to his friends, he always placed it on himself. You pushed up enough to press a kiss to the top of his head, the woodsy smell of his shampoo filling your senses as  you continued to rub at his broad shoulders. 

"I know you did everything you could." Your lips brushed down to his ear, tracing the defined muscles until your arms wrapped around his neck from behind. You nuzzled into the crook of his neck and felt his body heave into a sigh against you. 

"You weren't there." All authority had slipped from his voice, and now it was something softer, more broken and human. "I don't need to be." You chided gently, a warm and rough palm coming up to rest on your forearm. 

"Then how could you possibly know what happened?"

"I know you." The words were simple yet final. "I know you would have done whatever needed to be done. You've always looked out for everyone." 

Steve squeezed your arm, staring at the wall. "He mentioned Bucky and I just.." His words fell off, and he made no effort to retrieve them. You perked up at the mention, knowing that the search for his best friend had been at the forefront of his mind and now-

Your train of thought was completely derailed by you effortlessly being swung around his body and into his lap. He'd scooted a bit further onto the bed, strong arms wrapping around your waist. His forehead drops to your shoulder, your hand immediately reaches up to slip your fingers into his hair. Buried beneath the uniform and the Captain title he was still just the boy from Brooklyn, the one who wanted to always do the right thing, no matter the personal cost. Despite his preaching to others to not carry it all with them, he failed miserably to walk it out.

"You are a good man, everybody else knows it and it's past time you learn it too." You murmured, knowing it wasn't just this mention, but the whole subject of Bucky in general. Steve felt like he failed him, and in return, it projected its ugly head onto this mission. 

"I don't feel like one." He sighed but stayed intertwined with you. Regardless of how he felt about himself, it didn't change the fact that you were going to sit with him through every moment of it. 

Even if he stopped believing in himself, you'd always be here to do it for him, despite whatever hell this dug up.

[honey-dont]

stex month day 13: flat top!

favorite actors: SO many. ross dawes is my forever fave but i also love delano williamsen, dennis courtney, luuk hartog, todd lester, mark davis, richard mylan, marcel brauneis, and paul treacy! plus whoever played him in tuacahn, i've never been able to find a cast list </3

i think a lot of actors tend to play him pretty one-note so i love when people balance his jerk asshole side with his softer caring side! plus he's always fun comedic relief, shoutout to ross for smacking himself in the face with his own brick. and how can we forget dennistop's goofy helium laugh. love him

favorite songs/scenes: watching him mess around in freight and the blues is SO fun he's so funny <33 the lil spin and suspender snap paul does is adorable, also love him bothering this poor random woman in the audience with his brick. i mentioned ross above but him climbing around on the set like a jungle gym is so so cute!! also tuachan flats getting super excited to see rusty and waving at him!!

love literally all of his and dustin's interactions too, esp when he waves off the rockies for teasing him ough. their little goofy solo in freight!! <3

AND ofc all of his and rusty's interactions! him being a little shit to poppa and rusty jerking him back by his couplers....peak sibling behavior. love him giving rusty his helmet back after he gets beat up, esp how ross does it bc he doesn't tell him to give up!! he still believes in him!! brb exploding

him and poppa/momma are rly fun too, flat top is definitely their least favorite child but they still care about each other <3

honorable mentions to dinah giving him a cheek kiss too it's so cute

OH wait one last thing. when he hears about cb's plan and he looks SO disappointed in greaseball bc that's him finding out that his hero isn't who he thought he was and UGH. it's so good

wait i lied one more. him and rocky messing around during the megamix and throwing the brick to each other <3

favorite costumes: london!! oh my god all the little details are so good like he's quintessentially 80s london punk and it shows. his little socks! the steel toes on the skates!! the bigass frankenstein bolt collar <3 i'm especially fond of his earlier fluffy black & silver wig, it's adorable

i also loooveee the 3d glasses makeup but the bit where he just had graffiti scribbled all over his face is so funny like "hey what should we put on him to show that he's rebellious?" "just write SEX + DRUGS" "ok got it"

also brick on a chain my beloved <3 AND in late london where his belt was made of wood planks to show that he's a flatcar!! so good

i also have a fondness for on ice flats. his stupid nail boots. and tuacahn bc i respect the decision to put him in a crop top and chaps

favorite ships/friendships: flatdust is my train otp i love them i love them i love them <333 they have it all....friends to lovers....sunshine/grumpy....introvert/extrovert....good stuff. their friendship is so sweet to me bc they're total opposites and yet! special shoutout to that one boot where it genuinely looks like they're about to start making out onstage

i love him and rusty too, they're absolutely siblings to me and wind each other up all the time but they still care for each other! also him and cb in a frenemy situation bc cb thinks it's funny to push his buttons

his hero worship on greaseball is also really interesting bc it ties into his whole self-discovery arc imo

headcanons: he's physically the weakest of the freight and he absolutely has a chip on his shoulder about it </3 i hc him as a bulkhead so engines tend to dislike him too due to him being prone to derailing at speed, so he's desperate to prove that is he is cool and strong actually!! he's also like 5'4" without the boots lmao little guy

he's scared of thunderstorms but won't admit to it so dustin will hold his hand and pretend that he's the one who's scared ;-; he also helps dustin out in his garden sometimes but he sucks at it so he just gets to stand there and be moral support. guy who doesn't get the concept of seeds and will just rip up whole flowers for dustin to plant

also very rarely smiles bc he doesn't like his tooth gap :( dustin thinks it's cute tho

unpopular opinion: flat top is such an interesting character bc like. he does NOTHING and yet he has one of the strongest character arcs in the whole show! it's all about him figuring out who he is and where he belongs and it's so fascinating to watch unfold in the background. him racing with rusty in the final would've been such a good culmination of that

also i don't think this is unpopular but on my knees begging him to be punk again like that's his whole point

anyway sorry for writing an entire essay i'm normal about him.

(last two pics are commissions from arachnidal and sparemayonnaise!)

[sweet-self-indulgence]

You said your open to ideas, does that mean requests as well???? I'd love some Sam or Damien smut one shots

I finally had motivation to write something for you!

Sam gets turned on when Mika gets pissed off. Heated grappling ensues. Please enjoy some Sam smut!

You're Hot When You're Angry

Mika takes a steadying breath before setting out with a determined pace.

This is important. She tells herself.

She could still feel the punishing grip Malix’s had on her hair that night. Her fingers twitch up the touch her scalp at the memory, then curl into fists.

How dare he! Her fingernails dig into the flesh of her palms as her fists tremble.

That bastard broke into MY home! Mika walks faster, practically stomping down the stairs, the echoing sound of her feet on the stone accentuating her mood.

He threatened me! Her heart was pounding, face flushed with ire. If her mother were here, she would chastise Mika for ‘getting so worked up’, but Mika doesn’t give a crap about propriety right now. This is life and death. He threatened MY incubi… I mean the incubi..

Mika’s heart falters at her mistake. Her face flushes further at the implication of her errant thought. Her embarrassment circles around her head, fueling her anger.

“Goddammit!” Mika shrieks as she kicks open the back door.

The five incubus brothers freeze and turn to stare the commotion in unison. They look like someone paused an action movie. James, Damien, and Erik and circled around Sam with wide stances and outstretched arms. Matthew, for his part, has a foot planted in the center of Sam’s chest while his brother holds him aloft with a first-full of his shirt.

Mika’s eyes dart to the trail of dark hair that peaks out from Matthew’s shirt and runs down into his jeans. Her blood pounds harder in her ears as her mind is momentarily derailed imagining the parts of his body obscured by clothes.

Shit I’m staring! Mika shakes herself remembering why she’s here.

“Fuck Malix!”, She shouts. Her voice sounds unfamiliar in her ears.

“Hell yeah!”, Matthew agrees with a grin as he wiggles out of Sam’s grip.

“Uh… yeah?”, Sam looks at Mika like she just said the stupidest thing he’s ever heard. She shoots him glare back, but before she can open her mouth the retort Erik appears in front of her.

His wide-eyed deer-in-the-headlights stare remains, “Princess! Did something happen?”

“I’m sick of waiting for him to jump out of nowhere and attack me. I’m going to kick his ass!”

Damien flinches as the flames surrounding Mika’s aura burn brighter

“Oh, like you kicked his ass after the party?” Sam is still wearing that smug face as he rolls his eyes towards the small-framed woman.

Mika grits her teeth, she knew that Sam was not going to like her idea, but he is being even more of a prick than usual, “That’s why you’re going to train me.”

“There’s no reason the fret, miss” James places a gentle hand on her shoulder, “Your grandfather placed a protection spell on you, and the house.”

Mika lets out a frustrated hiss, “and that didn’t stop him from breaking in and—”

Hot emotion grabs Mika by the throat. She doesn’t have a word for what he did to her. She wasn’t hurt physically, but her safety and sanity felt shattered. The implication that he could do much worse claws at the back of her mind.

James’ eyebrows knit together in concern. As he opens his mouth, Damien pulls him away by the elbow, “Nope. She’s right. This is a problem for Sam.”

“Me?!” “Him?!” Mika and Sam protest in unison.

Mika continues, “I meant to train with all of you”

Matthew peers at something near her- rather that at her- before adding, “Yeah, this is definitely Sam’s expertise.”

Matthew shoos Erik into the house and Damien follows, pulling James with him. Mika and Sam are left alone in the backyard, glaring daggers at each other.

After a long moment of silence Mika explodes, “How am I supposed to defend myself if you won’t fucking teach me!” She kicks a stray rock directly at Sam’s face. He dodges easily and watches as it lands a ways behind him. When he turns back towards Mika his eyes and half lidded, pupils blown wide.

Mika recognizes that look from the moment she first met him. The memory of their kiss stirs that warm feeling in her gut. “This isn’t about your damn energy!” She wishes she could wipe that look off his face but settles for shoving his shoulder.

Suddenly Sam’s index finger is poking her forehead, “Bang, you’re dead.”

Mika swats his arm away and takes a fighting stance.

Fingers at the side of her throat, “Bang, you’re dead.”

She growls and moves to punch at Sam’s chest. Her first whiffs through the air as his longer arms hold her out of range, “You’re tiny, doofus. You’ll never lay a finger on Malix like that!”

Red flickers at the edge of Mika’s vision as she drops under Sam’s arm and kicks his foot out from under him. As Sam falls, she jabs a finger in his gut. “Bang, you’re dead,” she mocks his smug tone.

“…woah” Sam is making that dumb face again. His mouth is open, face slightly flushed, breathing fast as he stares up at her. Mika’s heartrate spikes as something feral in her enjoys looking down at the flustered incubus.

Her moment of glory is short-lived. Sam takes advantage of her distract to aim a sweeping kick at her feet.

Mika lands hard on Sam’s chest. He quickly rolls to pin her on her back. Mika struggles against Sam’s forearms pressing down on her own.

Sam’s chuckle draws her attention to his face, inches from hers. When their eyes meet Mika’s body floods with heat.

The two draw shaky breaths as their faces inch closer. Mika can feel Sam’s hot breath on her face. Her eyes flick to his lips.

Only one movement away. She considers.

When she looks back to his eyes, they’re glowing gold.

She freezes. He could do anything to me and I wouldn’t be able to stop him. Mika’s eyes widen and dart around, looking for an exit.

“Fuck—I’m so fucking sorry! I—” Sam fumbles as he sits up away from Mika.

Seeing an opening, Mika hooks her knee behind Sam’s and pulls it our from under him. She throws her bodyweight on top of him. Her right leg is wrapped around his left as her hips straddle his. Mika pins his wrists on either side of his head with all the force she can muster.

She smirks with satisfaction as Sam’s tentative movements fail to break her hold.

“Hey, I don’t want to hurt you. I—I don’t know how much strength to use…” Sam’s voice is the quietest she’s every heard him.

Sam’s thigh presses between Mika’s in his restrained struggle. She bites back a groan as the brief moment of friction sends delicious tingles up her spine.

The incubus freezes. When their eyes meet again the electric feeling is back, magnified by the growing heat in Mika’s core.

They’re green again. Mika notes Sam’s eyes, wide but devoid of that magical glow. This feeling isn’t his doing.

 The boy underneath her turns his head to the side, face bright red and practically panting. Mika feels something pulse against her hip.

Pride blooms in her chest. Mika experimentally grinds down on Sam’s thigh again, this time letting her breath shudder near Sam’s neck.

He gasps and snaps his gaze back to her own. Mika feels unbearably hot. When his eyes flick down to her lips she answers his silent question with a breathless whisper, “please.”

The tension snaps as their mouths crash together.

The kiss is frantic. Sam’s chapped lips move quickly against her own and Mika pushes back with equal fervor.

As she releases one of his wrists to grasp at the nape of his neck. Sam’s hips thrust against hers as they moan into each other’s mouths.

Sam’s newly freed hand slides over Mika’s backside and gives a sharp squeeze. She gasps and pulls back to give Sam a glare that’s a poignant mix of hate and lust, “What was that?!”

“You’re so hot when you’re angry” he groans unabashedly.

Mika only has time to blush before both of Sam’s hands are on her ass guiding her to fully straddle his lap as he maneuvers a seated position. “But I think we have to stop if you don’t want energy. I mean don’t want me to—I don’t wanna accidentally—”

His rambling is cut off as Mika presses a hot kiss into his lips. When she finally pulls away Sam is beat red and breathing shakily. His eyes flash between green and gold. “And you’re hot when you’re flustered” she says with a wink.

Sam’s eyes settle on gold and Mika dives headfirst into the tingling sensation that washes over her. “Sam..” she whines, a desperate edge to her voice as the heat in her core melts into an ache.

He grabs her hips and pulls her to grind against him. Her clothed sex rubs against the bulge in his jeans.

Mika’s energy swirls around her body, like a drain funneling down between her thighs, demanding to be released with each delicious movement that touches Sam.

Sam moans into the base of her neck. The vibrations make Mika’s bones feel like Jello.

Mika grinds against him in earnest, chasing a tightening feeling in her core and the whisper of his breath hitching against her neck.

Sam’s sucking bruises into her neck. The feeling of his tongue licking the marks has her biting her bottom lip and shivering against him. A sharp suck sends a small jolt of paint down her spine. Mika retaliates by biting Sam’s neck. The taste of the salt of his sweat does something to her insides and she bites down harder.

“Fuck” Sam breaths as a big sip of energy is pulled from Mika’s mouth. Mika’s head spins at the sudden loss.

He presses sloppy kisses from her ear to her collarbone. His hands push the hem of her top up as his fingers explore her stomach. They trace the edge of her bra and Mika shudders.

She slides her hands under Sam’s shirt and appreciatively traces the muscles as she works up to his pecs. She reaches around to his back and pulls him roughly to her, capturing his lips again.

Mika catches Sam’s bottom lip between here teeth as he breaks the kiss. Mika gasps as the sharp pull of energy appears again. “You’re going to pass out if you keep doing that” Sam groans, pressing her body close to his.

“What if I do this?” Mika teases as she grinds her hips down hard.

“This—” Sam thrusts up into her, “I know how to deal with”

“How about this?” Mika asks as her fingers trail around the waistband of Sam’s jeans and toy with the button.

“Yes” He breaths.

Mika pops the button open and slowly unzips the fly. She palms his length through his boxers. Sam groans as he pulls her in for another kiss. His tongue slides against her own.

Mika traces the tip of Sam’s cock with her finger, spreading the precum further down his head. Sam’s hand flies between her legs. Mika can feel the wetness in her panties as she rolls her hips to press her clit into Sam’s palm.

Each movement sends waves of pleasure coursing through her, spiraling down into the bundle of nerves Sam helps her work. His other hand slides over her bra and massages her breast.

Mika makes an involuntary noise and grasps Sam’s cock harder. She pumps up and down his length before reaching down the waistband of his boxers to fully grab him.

Sam bites his lip as he thrusts into her hand. His fingers at her core press up, pushing fabric into Mika’s entrance. Her hips faulter and she whines Sam’s name again.

His fingers deftly unbutton Mika’s jeans and slide into her panties. She shudders violently as he gently traces her clit.

Mika’s thumb rubs over the head of Sam’s member, drawing a shaky breath as his hips twitch forward. Her hand circles the base of his cock and glides to the head, bringing precum down with her during each stroke.

Sam’s fingers circle her entrance. Then he presses one finger agonizingly slowly into Mika. She bucks her hips uncontrollably. Sam slides his finger completely out, then presses back in with two.

Mika’s entire body feels white hot as she rides Sam’s fingers. The only thought in her head is to chase her rapidly approaching peak.

Sam thrusts to meet her strokes and for a few moments the pair are completely adrift in their joint pleasure.

The damn suddenly breaks. Mika is clenching around Sam, her vision glowing white around the edges. The waves of pleasure overwhelm the incubus, and he quickly follows Mika is his own orgasm.

They fall back into the grass. Mika resting on Sam’s chest as they do nothing but shudder and try to catch their breaths for a few minutes.

“You were right to fight in close combat with an opponent with a longer reach…but I think fucking them would take too much time in the middle of a battle” Sam teases.

“That’s fucked up!” Mika slaps Sam’s bicep and doesn’t miss the hungry look in his eyes as her anger briefly spikes.

[gothicprep]

i don’t enjoy smoking weed in social settings because it makes me feel like my train of thought derails and explodes. this is fine if you’re watching beavis & butt-head or something while you’re trying to sleep, but it doesn’t work in conversation at all.

i was trying to express one of my Hot Takes last night – it isn’t so much that power corrupts, power mostly reveals the consequences of pretty banal human error when it’s enacted at a certain scale. things like carelessness or conflict avoidance matter a lot more when you’re making consequential executive decisions versus when you’re talking to someone and don’t want to stir the pot.

power is an interesting subject because i don’t think it’s possible to concoct a grand theory of how it works. in my opinion, at least.

and i expressed this point so badly that someone derailed it and we argued with one another. i am now officially banning the Mare of Juana from my personal life. i already suspected that I couldn’t trust horses, but i never want to be in a situation like this again.

[princess-of-the-corner]

ML has lost the plot so bad not even a GPS can help it find it's way back.

The Thought Train hasn't just jumped the tracks it's derailed and exploded.

[thatchickwithtoomanyhobbies]

How It Used To Be (Aiello)

***Inspired by one of my favorite songs: ‘Unwell’ by Matchbox 20, which for some reason reminds me of Aiello. Definitely give it a listen before reading this as it helps to understand the story better. Basically Aiello in a downward spiral post events of the game. Note: Talk and near-attempt of *self-deletion* and a lot of other stuff relating to mental health. So maybe don’t read if that’s upsetting.***

Frank Aiello checked the clock on his nightstand. 3:30 in the morning. He hadn’t been able to sleep soundly since he got home three weeks ago. Every time he did, the horror and violence he experienced overseas plagued his mind in the form of nightmares. Every time he’d wake up drenched in sweat, expecting to hear the sound of bombs dropping and the screams of his fallen comrades only to be greeted by stillness of night in the suburbs.

He was so tired. He hadn’t gotten a decent nights sleep since before Kasserine. He flipped his pillow to the non sweat-drenched side and rolled onto his back. He stared at the ceiling watching shadow of the tree outside the window of his childhood bedroom wave in the light of the street lamp. He used to find it somewhat creepy when he was a child, now he found a strange sort of comfort in it.

“Go to sleep, Frank. Maybe you can go do something tomorrow,” he thought to himself. Maybe he could go try the new burger place that opened while he was gone. That might be nice. Maybe go catch a movie with a few of his old buddies from high school.

He hadn’t been able to go outside most days, and it wasn’t for lack of trying. His world felt so foreign, so strange, since he returned and even before. It felt like his mind was spinning out of control. As if he was beginning to go crazy.

“You’re not crazy Frank. You’re adjusting back to normal life,” he thought to himself as he drifted off into a fitful sleep once more. Maybe soon everything, including himself, would go back to the way it was before the war began.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Eight weeks since he came home. Eight weeks and he still couldn’t seem to adjust to civilian life. Today he was going into the city to look for work at his mother’s insistence. It was her day to supervise the employees at the family restaurant and she’d taken the car, so he’d need to take the train.

Ever since France he hated trains. They gave him the worst sense of anxiety. He had watched the thing derail completely and explode in a giant ball of fire. At the time, he had thought it had taken two of his best friends, Zussman and Daniels, down with it.

He’d spent the majority of the train ride back to Queens puking his guts up and biting his nails down to the quicks from anxiety.

Although this ride would only be a half hour at most, he dreaded it. His legs shook as he boarded the locomotive. It took every ounce of willpower not to climb back off and just go back home. The train was filled to capacity and there appeared to be standing room only.

“Just my luck,” he muttered, shoving through the crowd to find a place to stand. Was all of Queens going into the city today? Because it certainly seemed like it.

For a few minutes after the train began heading to its destination he felt fine, normal even. Maybe he’d alright after all. Then the freight train passed by on the opposite track.

His mind flashed back to the Wolverine train incident in Rochester that occurred a few weeks before he got home. His sister had told him that a passenger train had collided with a freight train on the same track, and they had both derailed. What if it had happened again? What if the other train hadn’t gotten on the other track in time?

“Stop it, Frank. You’re fine. There’s nothing to worry about,” he said to himself. He thought hearing it aloud may help him some- it didn’t. He crossed himself. It was getting harder to breathe. The way it did when he’d awake from the nightmares that just seemed to get worse the longer he was home.

“You’re fine, Frank. You’re fine. Stop overreacting. You’re fine.” The woman next to him turned to stare. He dodged her gaze.

“Is that man ok?” Someone behind him asked. No he wasn’t, not by a long shot. Everything felt like it was moving in slow motion. He couldn’t breathe and his heart was beating in his ears. He needed to get off this train. Now, before this got any worse.

Thankfully, the next station was coming up. He didn’t wait for the train to stop completely before jumping off. He just needed to get out of there. He wanted to go home and never leave again. Thankfully there was pay phone and he could ask his mother to get him.

The phone at the restaurant rang for what felt like an eternity, then finally she picked up.

“Mamma,” his voice trembled with unshed tears. This was so embarrassing. He was 22 years old, he shouldn’t be having to call his mother to bail him out.

“Frankie, cosa c'è che non va?”

“Just please come get me, Mamma. I can’t do it. I just can’t do it.” His voice broke on the last sentence. He needed to pull himself together before someone saw him crying in the phone booth.

His mother hung up the phone with no hesitation . She’d be there for him soon. What was wrong with him? He was never like this before he joined the military. He never freaked out on trains.

“I must be losing my mind,” he thought. He wished he could go back to being the person he was before the war. The person that didn’t have nightmares every night and didn’t panic on trains. He missed being normal.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Four months since he’d gotten home. Four months since he realized he didn’t recognize the person he saw in the mirror. Four months of nightmares. Four months of torment. Four months of not being able to be a normal, functioning member of society. He couldn’t live the rest of his life like this.

As a boy, he was taught it was sin to take one’s own life. That if he did, he didn’t get to go to heaven. He didn’t believe that was true. And even if it was, the real Frank Aiello died in Kasserine, cradling his best friend’s head in his arms as he took his final breaths. He died long before, but somehow his body kept on living without his soul being present.

The amphetamines. They were still somewhere in his duffle bag that he never got around to unpacking. He remembered Stiles refusing to take them, saying that one too many could kill a person and he didn’t want to risk it. Perfect.

When Nonno died, he remembered being told that your loved ones came to get you. That didn’t seem too bad. Lawrence, his childhood best friend, would be one of them. He still carried the rosary he always wore with him. He’d given it to him mere moments before he died in his arms.

Turner would be there. He’d be able to thank him for his sacrifice, although for him it would’ve been in vain. But it had allowed for Daniels to get home to his wife and new son. Stiles back to his ma, who couldn’t bear the burden of burying yet another child. Zussman back to his family that he never shut up about, especially his little sister. He always said she’d be devastated if something happened to him.

He had a sister, three of them in fact. All older, but he was closest to Sammy. Samantha, or Sammy as he called her, barely ten months older than he. He was closest to her out of the girls, doing everything together as children and even up until the time he left for the military.

The last thing they’d done before he left was go ice skating, her favorite thing in the world. She’d always said she’d have been a figure skater if only she had the time. He, on the other hand, hated ice skating. He spent more time scooting around the rink on his butt than on his feet actually skating.

Sammy would be home in a hour from her volunteer position at the library. She’d be the one to find him, and he knew she’d always blame herself for not getting home just a few minutes earlier.

He couldn’t do that to her. It would destroy her. Maybe this wasn’t a good idea. Maybe he’d go downstairs and clean the kitchen until she came home. That seemed ok.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

“Frankie! Frankie, I’m home!” Samantha yelled, taking off her coat.

The house was silent. That was odd, he usually answered her when she came home.

“Frankie! Frankie, where are you?”

She was getting worried now. She had noticed he was a bit off lately, mostly staying in his room and only coming out for meals.

“Frank! You’re scaring me!”

She walked past the closet in the hallway, oblivious to the fact that it was now slowly opening and someone was creeping out.

“Francis Roman! Where are you?”

He grabbed her from behind and clapped a hand over her mouth to muffle her screams. He laughed as she thrashed about in his arms in futility. Until she managed to elbow him in the chest at least, prompting him to let her go.

“Francis Roman! You scared me! I thought something happened to you,” she scolded. He decided now was not the right time to tell her something almost did, by his own hand at that. Not that he could anyway, considering she knocked the wind out of him.

He figured he’d ask her. The worst she could say was no, and he doubted she would. He hadn’t done anything with his sisters since he got back and was beginning to realize how much he missed it.

“So, Sammy. I was thinking, what if we go ice skating this weekend? You know, like we used to?”

“You want to go ice skating? Willingly? I can’t miss this! Yes! Let’s go!”

He smiled. As much as he hated the sport, he could force himself to endure it for a little while. Maybe this was the first step of getting things back to how they used to be.

***So I hope you enjoyed this emotional roller coaster. I enjoyed writing it while listening to my upstairs neighbors blast horrible techno music so loud the building was shaking.***

[tosxah]

xx | @nagareboshiko

Ajax fumbled with his rings as he waited for her reply. He felt like a dumb teenager asking out his crush. It'd been months of coming here, months of getting to know her little by painstakingly little- he couldn't be sure if it was a stupid crush or if it was just that he liked her as a friend and for her company but whatever it was he still felt like she deserved someone to look after her for once- not that he thought Aether wasn't doing that, just that she deserved a non blood... relationship- Ajax stopped his train of thoughts before they could derail, explode and kill everyone on board.

His smile was kind, understanding and nerves all wrapped into one. Of course she'd reply something like that... Hard working as she was.

Ajax took the hot drink with a silent thanks, holding the mug like it was the only thing keeping him warm despite not being cold. Looking over her, the way she held herself- she looked so... small. He worried it was discomfort and all he wanted to do was hold her hand and tell her she was safe with him but something else made him internally recoil at the thought...

He huffed a chuckled, "I believe you." I believe you're a good cook for the smell of the food when I walk in, I believe you wont kill me because if you wanted to, you had plenty chance to do it already. Part of me wants to believe you dont mind me being here, when parts of me keep telling me to go and not come back. "Kind of defeats the point of me asking you to dinner though, dont you think?" His smile stayed as his head cocked to the side slightly. Did she just like to take care of others? Or did she like to be in control? Scratch that, did she need to be?

"I'd offer to cook but i'm not the best- well, I make a good soup, homemade bread too." He was trying to joke, but it sounded so uneasy from him. Why did he think this would be easier?

"Sorry," his laugh was odd and awkward as he shook his head, almost in disbelief at his own actions. "This is so inappropriate, isn't it? You're just doing your job." He cleared his throat feeling a little dumb...

[what-is-this-about]

For the Next in Line AU, how often does Molly switch for her regular ghost form to her apprentice form, and is there an inbetween?

I uh, I was not expecting to get an ask about this AU (O_O') (tho feel free to send 'em if you have any other questions). Mostly because I get the feeling I gave too little information about it when I made that post. (In this situations, I either barf the whole plot, or I compress stuff so much that barely anything makes any sense at all. I tried for the middle ground, but I'm pretty sure I failed 😮‍💨🤷🏻‍♂️)

I'm still shaking a bit 😂

WARNING: I'm about to ramble, so some of the information might be a bit disjointed

Anyway, to answer your question:

On a daily basis after accepting The Chairman's offer (she has lessons to attend to, about stuff like the Ghost World's History and its laws, paranormal threats & imbalance and how to deal with them, etc. The Ruler position is no joke: they have to care for a lot of souls), with her soul going to the Ghost World while her body, which is a lot more self sufficient than in canon, goes to school. And no, there's no in between form.

But the tall fiery ghost you're (probably) thinking about is not Molly's apprentice form

This is Molly's apprentice form:

The most nondescript ghost you could imagine

A white sheet (a special garment simply known as The White Sheet (I'm bad at coming up with names) which both let's everyone know the ghost wearing it is the potential future leader of the Ghost World, and keeps their actual identity a secret, preventing anyone from learning the pupil's identity unless they tell that person themselves (this is mostly to give them the option of having a private life afterlife). It also gives a boost to the apprentice's power, making it reach it's peak faster than it would've done naturally, but by no means increasing the amount of power per say, all while keeping said power from getting out of control by keeping the apprentice from accessing most of it. At least, until they overpower it, losing their pupil form as a consequence, but also gaining their leader form (which still hides their identity). Molly achieves this a lot sooner than what The Chairman anticipated (around a literal century), due to an incident involving a lot of flaming skeletons, a panicking swoopy haired boy, and a bony jerk (but this getting long enough as it is, so I'll talk about that in another occasion), and with it came an unforeseen issue. That being that you can't really fit more than around five souls inside the same living body without said body getting permanent sequels, and anything above ten will cause the body to straight up explode. Molly's soul is currently (as in, at the time they discover the issue) as potent as a hundred average human souls. Because it is her body, it has a built in resistance to her own intensity, but there's a limit to it. This means that Molly goes from having the option of splitting herself whenever she feels like it, to needing to remain separate for at least long enough for her body to recover from the strain that containing her own soul puts it through. Unless she's fine with incinerating herself from the inside out 😐🤷🏻‍♂️ (my train of thought has officially derailed. Wrre the hell was I?)

Ah right: nondescript lookin' ghost, covered with a white sheet, wearing three shackles (that drag them straight to their mentor if they go scare mode while in pupil form. They are training to be leader of the Ghost World, and they should be a role model, so they must have a good reason to do that unless they wanna get in trouble for abusing their (tentative (being a pupil, or even getting a leader form, doesn't guarantee becoming ruler. Lord Doom would know)) position), black, empty sockets with white lights for pupils, and no remarkable facial features.

[milesbutterball]

Today I want to talk about turning off your brain.

Because I have a theory: overthinking has killed billions of dreams. I just saw a perfect example of this, and as you know, I believe the gym is the ultimate classroom.

You might remember when I went on the 2 Bears podcast. One of the funniest members of the Pump Club, Bert, told me his big, crazy goal was to hit a 315 bench. He didn’t just make a vague goal, Bert made a bet that he would do it.

You can watch the podcast here.

I gave him some pointers, and I sent him a pump up video when I heard it was time.

Somehow, the bet became 320. Don’t ask me. Here was his lift.

Let’s start by congratulating Bert. That is serious weight, and he went beyond his goal. He’ll be at 400 in no time, and then I’m sure he’ll be training for the Arnold Strongman Classic.

Some people were surprised by the video I sent him. They thought I’d give technical pointers, not a simple pump up. Instead of telling him to row the weight toward his chest and then explode up, I told him not to think!

Let’s break down why I told him to empty his mind because I think the same advice can help the million of you who read this newsletter.

At that point, Bert had done all the thinking necessary. He made a vision — one that a lot of people thought was crazy. Once he had the vision, he did the work.

I gave him some pointers when he was preparing, but most were to train his mind, not his body, to prepare him for lifting a weight that seemed impossible.

I told him to lift 300 for one rep again and again, to teach the mind that it was happening no matter what. We had him unrack 400 pounds and just hold it, not even try to lower it, to teach his mind that he could hold a weight much higher than his goal.

But once it was time to lift, it was time to turn off the brain.

Overthinking will stop you in your tracks.

I know, I’m always telling you that you need to really take the time to let your mind wander and daydream to find your vision, so it might be confusing to hear me say I want you to turn it off.

You need to learn to become a genius when it’s time to make your vision and your plan — and a total forehead when it’s time to go after it.

Because any time you try to do something you haven’t done before, your brain fights back. You can’t blame it. It is natural.

The brain wants to keep you comfortable. It wants to avoid risk. Doing new things, doing big things, doing crazy things — that’s all very uncomfortable. There is a risk of failure.

Your mind knows that, and if you let it, it will talk you out of any vision. It will derail your plans.

I know that many of you, and even many members of the Pump app, suffer from overthinking.

Let’s just give an example.

You say, “My vision for this year is to finally get in shape.”

Your brain says, “Now hold on, what supplements do you need for that? What is the absolute perfect exercise? Is a fly better than a press for pecs? What’s the difference between a reverse lunge and a lunge because I want to make sure you do the right one? What’s the ideal diet — actually, let’s wait on the diet because first we need to focus on exercise. You can try the diet later.”

Absolutely none of that will get you in shape. Your mind just wasted a ton of time and got you absolutely nowhere.

In the time you were thinking about all of those things and researching, you could have done some squats and pushups and rows in your living room, gone for a walk, and eaten a vegetable and some protein.

You would be much closer to your vision than you are.

Instead, you let your mind take over and keep you frozen, and you make zero progress. You need to realize that’s what your mind wants. It loves to keep the status quo, even if that’s bad for you.

The person who doesn’t know anything about the perfect exercise or supplement or diet but just started doing something will beat you every single time until you learn to hit the off switch on your brain.

And don’t get me started on “trying.”

I see this every day.

People say “I’m going to try to build an exercise habit this year.”

“I’m going to try to diet once I get that habit dialed in.”

Try, try, try.

I know we have encouraged our kids to “try” for years now — and I believe that teaching kids that making the ultimate effort is important and failure is nothing to fear. But trying is just too soft for me.

It’s another trick your brain plays on you to keep you from going all out.

I need you to be honest with yourself. Look back over the past year. How many things have you promised to try? How many of them have you actually done?

Are you the type of person who is always trying and never doing?

It’s time to turn off the thinking. You know your vision. Be a forehead.

Don’t intellectualize it. Don’t research it. Don’t try it.

Do it

[wanderingchronicle]

for the fic thing: 5, 15, 17, 19, 29, and 30 (i desperately want to know what else you're gonna write)

Oh gosh, fan mail. Under a read more, cause I actually talk a lot about process in this and my answers get long. Including some discussion about the next installments of "children's work", lol

5. What ships captured your heart?

Now, this might surprise people, but I'm actually not that much of an OTP person. I'm a habitual multi- and polyshipper, and when I say "I ship it" that doesn't mean I think it should be endgame. In some cases I think they should be exes.

With that said? Rex&Nomi-Nomi is *so* fun to write. They're so god damn cute, and there's a lot of meat to dig into in the form of their acceptance and understanding of the others VERY different relationship orientation.

Obviously SolCal but also Sol and many of the dateable characters makes me insane. Please read my work knowing I believe that every iteration Sol is at least slightly in love with all of their friends.

More under the cut!

15. What was your hardest fic to title?

My titles are actually super intentional so thank you for asking this question! The songs are all relevant, and the lines used as titles are specifically relevant again.

The hardest, I think, was "you're built to balance on two feet." Almost every fic in Children's Work, including the ones that haven't been written yet, the title was basically immediate as soon as I had the concept of the fic down.

I had a few working titles, all drawn from "The Crow" by Dessa. to say "anger is just love, left out and gone to vinegar" (used as a chapter title for four chambers instead) tryna get a slow dance middle of a knife fight you come as fragile, soft machines

I ended up going with "you're built to balance on two feet" because Rex is standing in the shoes of the singer, looking at the unhappy people around him and trying to empathise with them.

I also really struggled with "four chambers, just a standard issue." "Mineshaft II" has loads of really good lines, but many of them are very long or don't make as much sense out of context. But I liked the comparison of the human heart to a lethal weapon.

17. Share your favorite opening line

Cal loves the creche. He loves his parents too, all four of them, but the creche has all his friends, and shelf upon shelf of books and holovids. There must be an end to them, surely, but they seem endless – he watches documentary after documentary about the plants and animals of earth, sometimes while Tammy shrieks and peeks out from between her fingers.

This one is my favourite. It's such a character-establishing moment -- Cal's a happy go lucky kid! He has a big and loving family, he's having a good childhood, he loves learning about animal facts and he has a bestie who watches documentaries with him even if she has to cover her eyes during the scary bits. Cal gets older and sadder and more complicated, but this is how the reader meets him.

19. Share your favorite piece of dialogue

Oh this one is so haaaaaard I love writing dialogue. I love banter. But it's probably this conversation between Rex and Cal, in "if we're just play fighting, how come that blade's shining":

Cal’s entire train of thought not only comes to a screeching halt, but derails and explodes with no survivors. Sol has feelings for him? That’s really how he’s been coming off?  “And I don’t know what’s up with you,” Rex continues, “but I don’t think you’re the kind of person to deliberately mess with someone’s feelings. So I’m telling you to either seal the deal already, or cut it out and stop getting their hopes up.” “Sol has feelings for me. Like…they want to date me,” Cal says slowly.  Rex stares at him for several seconds. “Holy shit,” he says faintly, “you’re lucky you’re pretty, because you are phenomenally dense. They have feelings for you, they have had feelings for you for a while, and if you have feelings for them you should do something about them.” “But…you and Sol…” “Solace and I will still be best friends no matter what happens,” Rex says sharply, “you’re not coming between us. Hooking up with them is fun and I like doing it, but if we stop because Solace is monogamously loved up with someone else, I won’t be upset. I’d be upset if you didn’t want us to hang out anymore, but if you did I’d tell them to ditch you for being a weirdo anyway.”

Rex and Cal have what is legitimately a pretty tough conversation! Rex is absolutely 100% willing to throw hands on Sol's behalf, but slowly comes to the realisation that Cal has absolutely misread a whole bunch of things because he's a himbo. Rex asserts himself as someone who loves Sol, and at this point he's probably the only person aware of how much of a soft touch Sol actually is. When every other POV looks at Sol they see someone cool and mysterious. Rex sees a kind and loveable dingus.

Cal's just a dummy, figuring out that he's a dummy. Rex put the mental image of Sol doing a soaking-wet rainy Mr Darcy confession in his brain and it's scrombled him a bit.

29. What's left on your to-do list for 2024? Finish "four chambers, just a standard issue." Maybe the next installment of children's work, which is called "we stand upright, build fires at night" and is about Sol and Cal grappling with the decision to become parents, and what that means when you're struggling with estrangement and grief over your own parents.

I might write some other stuff. I have a Tang character study and a Sol/Nomi&Rex fic idea, because I have Thoughts about both Nomi and Rex needing to unpack some amatonormative assumptions about what it would mean for one of them to fall in love with someone else. Both are likely to be quite short (famous last words lol)

30. What would you like to write next year?

People who have been following along with Children's Work may be excited to know there are four installments left in the series, and then it will be done. 1. we stand upright, build fires at night (flulu/geranium pre/canon and sol/cal 5 years post canon 2. rather be six feet under than be lonely (vace is going in the contraption. 6 years post canon, completes a triptych with "you're built to balance on two feet" and "four chambers, just a standard issue".) 3. they say there's good grief (tangent, 20 years post canon) 4. we lean to turn in the velodrome (winky face don't worry about it)

I'd like to finish the series over the summer, and then maybe write some other stuff. Whatever I decide I want to explore more with fic! I definitely want to write some SolNem, though. Maybe some weird rarepairs. Who knows! The worms will seize me as they see fit.

[dca-prompts]

OMG okay so I had this idea like over a year ago now but I never rlly did anything with it so like.

Imagine Moon accidentally mentioning smth abt those “dream spheres” from the books and the reader/the oc involved is like “hey. haha. What.”

instead of that being encouragement to sleep like Moon was hoping for, it leads to them going down a whole rabbit hole online about the lawsuits and such involved in them and they’re just like “haha cool okay yeah i can be normal about this [thinking of buying one off ebay or smth]”

The farthest i wrote was the next morning where the reader tries talking about with sun and he very politely goes “buddy i’m gunna need you to derail that train of thought and then explode it also.” and I had a vague idea of maybe something going Horribly Wrong once the dream sphere is acquired but like. shrugs

ㅤ

[graveyard01]

Time Traveling Eris will drag the universe to victory kicking and screaming if she has to.

“You are coming with me.”

“Wha–?”

The Ghost had no time to react before the Risen caught him and got on her sparrow. Before he could even start forming words, she redlined her sparrow, blasting through fallen with reckless abandon.

“Thi–this is highly irregulaaaaaarrrrrr.” The Ghost screamed as the Risen jumped off the boasting sparrow before blinking away as the sparrow rammed into an unsuspecting Servitor in glorious nuclear fire.

The Ghost thought he might have heard a quiet “I’m so sorry,” but he was too busy screaming as the Risen summoned another sparrow and did this all over again.

***

“It worked!” Exclaimed the Ghost, dashing around his newly risen… Risen. “You're alive!” He turned towards the other Risen to thank her –

“Time travel.” She spoke before he could get a word out, derailing his train of thought – wait, what? From the corner of his optics, he could see her Ghost do a double take as it wobbled mid-air. “Oh? Oh…” It whispered and whirled around to the Risen in concern.

“My name is Eris Morn, and I am a guardian from the future. A hunter…” She paused, looking at his Risen. She hummed before tossing his Risen strange weapon with orange optics and an orange, metallic sheen.

To his Risen’s credit, they only fumbled once before properly catching the weapon. Close it, the weapon felt strange. Almost a feeling of déjà vu filling the Ghost, though he was certain that he had never come across such a weapon. It felt... timeless and infinite. He could feel it creating energy, somehow, without losing any. Yet any attempt for him to understand the weapon fell flat.

“Let’s get going, Guardian. There is more of where that came from.”

***

“Rasputin.” Spoke Eris as they entered the Bunker, having fought through numerous waves of drones, automatons, and, at one point, a not-so-small swarm of nannies that they had to burn and explode multiple times to stop from replicating. The Ghost was quite proud that his newly risen ‘Guardian’ was already almost fighting at the level of a veteran, if possibly delusional, Risen. 

The Warmind gave no response through the door slammed shut behind them, and more drones flew out of the vents, covered in orange… were those explosives?

Eris just threw out a knife, a green thread trailing behind as the darkness-empowered weapon flew like it had its own mind, destroying all the drones in one fell swoop.

Ghost hid behind his Guardian as the knife flew back to Eris’ hand, and even her ghost, Brya, looked concerned. His Guardian however, bless their ignorant mind, just looked at Eris in amazement, not comprehending the sheer, vast everything about a Risen using darkness.

“Stand.” She spoke, almost absentmindedly, as she hit a seemingly random spot on one of the walls with her fist before pulling off an almost-invisible-to-see panel, exposing a mess of sparking wires and ports. Taking out a drive from one of her pockets, Eris jammed it into one of the ports.

Almost instantly, the lights flicked before the red flashing lights turned back to normal, and the gate behind them opened with a hiss.

“Eris Morn.” Spoke a voice, curious and amazed – the Warmind Rasputin!

“Rasputin. Well met.” Eris took a long, shuddering breath. “We need your help. The Moon is haunted. It is a death trap where no unprepared Guardian who sets step will be safe.” Eris turned towards his guardian. “But with you, me, and the Guardian? Well, I have worked with worse odds before.”

***

The bunker opened with a gentle hiss, allowing the wary warlord entrance.

"Greetings, Warlord Shaxx," Spoke a robotic voice from all around as an Exo greeted him. "I am Rasputin. And I believe I can help you with the Iron Lords."