#like not to be too much of a stereotype but trains are so cool

[yourlocalartsonist]

MONTHLY MFIP UPDATE✨✨

9/24 | Month 2 | Next Month | Month 1

Hey folks 🦐 I finally got the chance to make this month’s MFIP Update cuz god damn life was kicking my ass. College is fine for the most part tbh, just a lot of reading and writing cuz of the specific classes I chose. HOWEVER I have 💥FUCKING PMDD💥 so um skill issue on my part but it’s why I’ve been kinda exhausted as shit this week and was late with the update so my bad folks! (Also for more info on PMDD, click here! I don’t wanna spend this post yapping about it but wanted to leave a resource to spread awareness just in case :3). Also, Imma be tagging some of y'all who have been reading/supporting MFIP consistently just for this post, so yk you guys actually know these updates exist. I was gonna do that for the first ever update but as with many things, I forgor, so I'm doing it now! They’re supposed to come out on the 18th of every month, but yk sometimes life happens and I’m a lil late. It won’t be any earlier than the 18th tho so look out for these once it hits that date! Anywho, cheers to this month’s update!

Alrighty folks we be starting with the Art~!

Alrighty so obvious new thing, WE GOT RAPH’S REF SHEEEEEEEET TEEHEEEEEEE

BRO IM SO HYPE ABOUT IT! It turned out so genuinely amazing and I’m ridiculously proud of it! Especially cuz I honestly thought Raph was gonna be a harder design to figure out yk? I’m not used to drawing his body type, I wasn’t as familiar with his outfit, and even tho I’ve sketched him a few times before, I was just a bit nervous with Raph. Funfact, he’s also been the hardest to figure out how to write back when I was first starting MFIP. I genuinely don’t know why, but I got there eventually (I actually really love writing him now—) and same thing happened with his design!

Since MFIP’s taking place a few months after the Krang invasion, i’m able to take creative liberties and update the boys’ designs more! For some clarification btw, in my story’s lore, the invasion took place in September 2020, and MFIP starts on March 2021. Anywhizzle, my ideas for the boys’ designs is to combine their movie look with their show look, cuz while I do LOVE the black on them, it doesn’t feel right to me to not make them still unique in their own ways. These guys are all about authenticity, so why make their gear exactly the same, ya get me? I basically recolored his show gear to be black and red (and added a lil asymmetry on his legs) cuz I think it makes Raph feel older and more sure about himself, just feels right for him! I also just think the red fade on the black is hella cool! Fun lil color theory i think application, the black is more of a really dark, inky blue, so it makes the red pop out even more! I decided to make a bow out of his mask tails, too! I don’t wanna spoil the entire lore reasoning for it yet (it’ll pop up in the story), but I can indeed say it’s intentional that it looks a little like a lunamoth with damaged tails :3 I also took a BUNCH of creative liberties with his sais’ handles, since we haven’t really seen it much so like idk gaslight yourselves into thinking it’s always been this epic✨✨

Also I gave him his shorts back because FUCK YOU I LIKED THE RED TRIMMMM—

OH I ALMOST FORGOT yes he has longer eyelashes! I saw he grows to have really pretty eyelashes in the future cuz of his turtle species, and I wanted to lean into that by showing they’re starting to grow now :3

Bullshit Gag Because Yes‼️‼️

There ain’t shit to say about this, I just pulled a silly. I saw the fact Donnie was supposed to have a “Doctor Donatello” persona in the deleted episode where Dale turns into a werewolf. I’m really heavily on the train of Leo being the team medic and into medicine in general. I don’t think it makes sense for Donnie to be the medic judging by his sensory issues and this mf being as much of a germaphobe as my mom, and in my opinion it felt too stereotypical anyway to have Donnie be the medic. Ofc, to each their own, and this is just my interpretation of it, but I thought it’d be funny if Donnie still had this persona and was passionate about it, but was like horrifically bad at being a doctor. I made this dumbass sketch that I’ll finish sometime in the future (it’s gonna be a chapter in Arc 3 probably) and I just wanted to share it with yall~

THEY’RE HUMAN NOW⁉️

My ass wanted to show off cuz I’m sketching out some ideas of what my human designs for the boys culd be. I already did Leo’s like ages ago so he’s not on here but I’m realizing as I’m typing this my dumbass forgor to post it so um my bad I will do that in a few days—

But I wanted to design (or more accurately, redesign cuz I did draw em once a while back but I’m not satisfied with them) and I think I ate so far so uh yea. There isn’t any logic to sharing this, I just thought it was cool😭

And actually, imma share them here too just so y’all can see my boy ;w;

(A lil outdated cuz I didn’t give him lips at the time)

Okay there we go~

As you can see, I want all the boys to look kinda etherial and like they'd turn heads, and I think I am SUCCEEDING SO HARD SO FAR CUZ DAMNNNN THEY'RE ALL PRETTY AS SHIIIIIIIT TEEHEE✨ Also am tryna make sure they actually look Blasian since that's what the canon of my story says they are. I'll talk about them more another time when I have all of them on here~

But yea that's all for art this time folks :> ONTO THE NEXT THINGGG

Chapter Progress Time Whoop Whoooop‼️‼️

I didn’t make much progress on anything this month due to college—again, it’s fine, but there’s a shit ton of time management going on in my part to just manage everything and make sure I’m on track—BUT I am indeed still working on chapter 10. We’re up to 20 pages now which is only two more pages written from last month, but it’s kinda cool writing Donnie and I feel like I’m getting a better understanding of him! One thing I’ve been tryna do is understand autism better as a condition cuz I do wanna acknowledge and show bro’s autism instead of just ignoring it due to a lack of understanding. Donnie ain’t Donnie without it, ya know? I don’t know everything and tbh I would say I still have A LOT to learn on the subject matter, but I’m tryna expand my knowledge every opportunity I get and experimenting with how to better show it! This is to say tho, I’M NOT A MEDICAL PROFESSIONAL, NOR AN EXPERT ON THE AUTISM SPECTRUM. This is what I’m finding and comprehending via my own research, and can tbh end up being wrong so please don’t quote me as a reliable source, I’m still learning ;v;

I remember one of the things I kept hearing about was autism leading people to struggle with empathy. The best way I heard it being described was someone bringing the example of when their friend was upset. That person can’t truly feel their friend’s emotions because they’re not the one experiencing it, so can’t properly understand how it’s making their friend feel. But they can see that their friend is communicating their sadness, and they still try to comfort them and make sure their friend knows they’re there for support. I understood it as bringing logic to emotions in a sense; collecting data and figuring out how to handle the situation based on the data rather than using intuition alone.

I’ve been using that to figure out how Donnie might handle more emotionally subtle situations, where he might try to rationally work through what’s happening and kinda substitute it in place of natural empathy. Like the little tidbit I gave above! Instead of just automatically being able to get vibes that the other person is upset, I felt maybe Donnie would instead notice the fact their tone is kinda different from before; it’s basically a data point. With that data point in mind, he could connect it to past experiences where a tone change could indicate a mood change, and as a result he might conclude that Salena’s tone change means she’s upset. I comprehend it as manually working through empathy rather than it being second nature, if that makes sense. Obviously and thankfully Donnie isn’t gonna spend the entire chapter playing a guessing game or anything with Salena’s emotions, it’s just one lil moment that I thought was cool challenge to myself with when writing him! I really love putting myself in the characters’ shoes when I’m writing them or their dialogue. I highly recommend it as a tool too, since it's helped me a lot with staying in character!

Last Lil Segment Y'all

Aight so, I wanted to try doing something cool if y'all are up for it. I really love rambling about my story and lore and characters blah blah blah, but I don't really know how to do so tbh. I'm not that familiar with how social medias work cuz I just never took it seriously, and I don't wanna just keep being like HEYYYYY ASK BOX IS OPENNNNN like I'm screaming from the top of the hill either. Sooooo insteaddddd

I think it'd be fun to do Q&As here! Or at least something similar. I'll open my ask box again and feel free to send any questions you want; it can be about the story, past lore, design questions, getting to know the characters, absolutely anything! Then when I'm gonna do my update for the month, I'll compile all y'all's asks, (prolly will have to tag to make sure you guys know I answered it, or if you ask anon then uh idk look out for the monthly update) and then answer them during the monthly update as the last section! I think it'll be a cool way to make this feel more interactive, and gives me an excuse to ramble. Don't be afraid to ask potentially spoilery questions either! If it's something I can't spoil yet or even give hints or vague answers about, I'll just say so in the update!

Anywhizzle, That's All Folks~!

I'm glad there was so much to talk about this month! I actually deadass thought it would be short but I should know better with my yapping' ass💀✨ But yeah, thanks for reading everyone! I hope y'all enjoy the rest of your days, and I shall see you next month~ Bye :D

Tageroonies:

@yosajaeofficial @chaoticspeedrun @ramblehour @randomcerealbrand @goldanrabbit @m1sf0rtun3 @foundthethief @ackalice @jellyfishheartsss @dollyrin @harukonene @iieieiw @mwantstossleep @zipzaizen @hypocriticaltypwriter @lordfreg @rainbowpr1sm @idioticsky @oleander-nin @cheeselord-official @skittlesqueen101

By the way, if you guys think you’d like to be tagged whenever an MFIP chapter is posted, lmk in a reblog or comment (no asks or dms plz, too inconvenient) and I’ll be sure to tag so it’s more reliable than tumblr notifs :3🫶

ROTTMNT: Moths Fly In Packs

[piedoesnotequalpi]

train train train trAIN TRAIN!!!!

[fettuccin-e]

Flying to New Heights

Summary: A flight delay means you're spending your night at the hotel bar, praying for sleep to come to you. Instead, a certain Captain Francisco Morales shows up, tall and broad and far too tempting. With undeniable attraction burning between you, you can't help the way you fall right into his arms.

A/N: Alright! I know it's been a while, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Life has gotten a tad crazy, but the Frankie thirst never stops okay? And this AU has been buzzing in my head for a little while now, so I just needed to get it out there. I hope y'all enjoy the porn. (dividers are by the lovely @saradika-graphics!)

Tags: Frankie Morales x Reader, Commercial Pilot!Frankie, Flight attendant!reader, afab!fem!reader, alcohol consumption but barely, this is essentially an excuse for porn so, oral and fingering(r!recieving), unprotected piv (pls wrap it up I'm begging you), Francisco Morales and his dirty mouth have struck again (w/c: 4.2K)

You love your job, you really do. Deciding to actually train to be a flight attendant was one of the best decisions of your life. Gone were the days of short-lived stints in retail, and you’ve never been happier for it.

You’ve lived the attendant life for a few years now, and you wouldn’t have it any other way. You’ve met some of your best friends through this job, seen some of the most beautiful places in the world, met celebrities on their way to new production locations and concert venues. 

It’s the dream, you tell your family, during the rare moments you actually get to visit them. And it is. The perks far outweigh the cons in your profession, and you’re happy to be where you are.

That’s not to say there aren’t any cons though.

There are always rude flyers, unruly children, issues with luggage. The turbulence is never much fun, nor are the months spent without being able to go home at all.

There are always nights like tonight, where the rain made the flight arrive later than expected, and you’ve got another flight scheduled for the morning. Between jetlag and the copious amounts of airline coffee you’ve imbibed to remain bright and chipper over an eight hour flight overseas, there’s no way you’ll get more than five hours of sleep before you have to clock in again.

A nightcap in the hotel bar seemed just the thing to cool off. You haven’t even taken your uniform off, the thick fabric stretching across your skin, your legs exposed to the cool air as you sip on your drink. The alcohol burns a bit in the back of your throat, but you take comfort in it, trying to lean into the calming warmth it creates in your stomach.

“Can’t sleep?”

The unexpected voice rips you from your reverie, and fuck, what a wake up call. The voice is deep, a pretty rasp edging into the ends of his words, the warmth of his tone making you far warmer than the alcohol in your glass ever could.

Captain Francisco Morales. Even his name has heat swimming in your stomach, and you wish you had just gone to bed like a normal person instead of drinking at the hotel bar at midnight. 

You can’t decide if the pilot is a perk or a con of the job, only knowing that he seems to pilot most of your flights, and is a fucking distraction during every single one of them. With his big broad shoulders and patchy beard, the crinkles around his eyes when he smiles and his insistence that you call him Frankie, not Captain Morales. 

The whole “flight attendants fucking pilots” trope never really applied to you until you met Frankie. You’ve made it a point not to hit on him, no matter how much you desperately want to. It would be far too stereotypical, and with how fucking nice Frankie is, you’d feel like you’d be taking advantage of him. So you’ve kept your distance, talking to him kindly, trying to cross your legs discreetly when he flexes his damn hands on the plane controls, and doing your job like a normal person.

But as he crosses into your line of vision, sitting in the barstool directly next to you, you’re struck with the realization that you’re in unknown territory. There’s no distracting yourself here with other passengers, or your fellow flight attendants. You can’t excuse yourself to an airplane bathroom to splash cold water on your face and yell at yourself to get it together. No, Frankie is right in front of you, ordering a whiskey neat from the bored-looking bartender, and smiling at you so fucking prettily with those big brown eyes and big hands and oh god you’re not going to survive-

“Nah, the jet-lag is really getting to me this time,” you say casually, your voice working on its own accord. At least you aren’t staring at him dopily like some kind of imbecile.

He chuckles. “Same here. Flight go okay?”

“You got us here, didn’t you, Captain? I’d say that’s a success.”

“Then let’s hope I’m always successful,” he winks, and it takes effort to breathe normally. You giggle, and he smiles at you again, his eyes crinkling up.

“You have a flight tomorrow?” he asks, sipping at his drink. 

“Yeah, unfortunately," you sigh. "10:00AM, which is making the whole ‘no sleeping thing’ even worse. Y’know, it’s really the airline’s fault if I collapse on a passenger." You grin at him, and he laughs.

“Oh, they should be so lucky,” he chuckles, and you could swear that you see just a flicker of heat in his eyes. A heat that turns into a raging inferno inside of you, spreading from your cheeks to the tips of your toes. 

“How about you, Captain? Flying again tomorrow?” You need to keep your mind out of the fucking gutter, not that he makes it very easy.

“Yup. They’ve got me in the air at 8:00AM.”

“Oh man, and you’re listening to me complain about my 10:00AM?”

“Work is work, sweetheart,” he smiles at you, and you want to collapse into him at that very moment. Sweetheart. Coming from anyone else, it would sound smarmy, like a pick up line, but from Frankie, it just sounds warm and comforting. You want to be his sweetheart. “We’re all allowed to complain. We aren’t in any kind of competition.”

He sips his whiskey, his eyes feeling like they’re boring into your fucking soul. “And either way, we’re both in the same bar, at midnight, sleep nowhere in sight. We’re pretty much in the same boat.”

“If you say so, Captain,” you say, your body positively burning under his gaze. You hope that you can blame it on the alcohol.

He raises an eyebrow, “I thought I told you to call me Frankie, sweetheart.”

“Frankie, sorry.”

“No need to be sorry,” he says, taking another sip. You try to not watch his throat work as he swallows. You fail. “Think you just need more practice,” he mumbles into his drink, so soft you almost miss it.

“Practice?” you blurt, mind too distracted to think of an intelligent response.

“Practice saying my name.”

A laugh startles out of your mouth. “I have no idea how I’d practice that, Frankie.”

He hums, pretending to think. “I have a few ideas,” he murmurs, and fuck, you definitely aren’t imagining the heat in his eyes now. It’s blazing into you, and you have to press your thighs together to alleviate the ache between them, hoping that Frankie doesn’t notice. Or maybe you hope he does, as you watch those thick fingers wrap around his glass.

Fuck it. He’s hot, you’re horny, and God, you can’t take much more of this. “I’d love to hear all about them, Frankie,” you say, adding a little rasp to your voice that you hope sounds sexy.

Frankie chuckles, but it doesn’t sound like he’s making fun of you. No, he sounds surprised, like he can’t believe you’re flirting back at him. Confidence swims in your chest as red colors his cheeks. You gaze up into those warm, brown eyes of his, and fuck, he’s so pretty up close like this.

“You sure about that, hermosa?”

You don’t break eye contact with him, and his deep gaze burns into yours. “Positive,” you breathe, and Frankie’s smirk is absolutely devastating.

Captain Francisco Morales doesn’t do this often. No, he doesn’t do this ever. Fucking between flights is supposed to be a perk of being a pilot, but it’s a “perk” he rarely utilizes. One night stands have never really suited him; he gets attached far too easily, and with his job, he can never stick around for long.

But god you’re pretty. And you’re licking hotly into his mouth, and whining in the back of your throat like you’re fucking desperate for it.

He couldn’t help himself when he saw you, still in your little uniform skirt, nursing a drink at the hotel bar. He couldn’t help himself when he struck up a conversation with you, wanting to see your pretty smile and soft laugh that he only ever hears mid-flight. And damn it, he sure as hell can’t help himself from pressing you up against the wall of the hotel elevator, pressing one of his thighs between yours while your fingers curl into his hair and his arms wrap around your waist.

You wiggle down onto his thick thigh, and it creates the most perfect pressure on your clit. You whimper against Frankie’s mouth, and he groans with you, pulling you flush against him.

“Fuck,” he breathes, and his voice is deep and gravelly, breathless from your fevered kisses. “I, uh, I don’t usually do this kind of thing.” His cheeks burn, but he doesn’t back away, just leans his forehead against yours and tries to catch his breath.

It isn’t a surprise, his confession. You’ve heard stories about every other pilot, about their conquests with flight attendants, or how someone saw one of them take their wedding band off when they got to their hotel. There are stories upon stories about every pilot you’ve flown with, except Frankie. And it’s intoxicating, knowing that he wants you enough to have you like this. 

“Good. Me neither,” you whisper, and Frankie grins again. That boyish, devastating grin, and fuck, your clit is throbbing so hard that you could cum like this. You could cum, right in this elevator, Frankie’s thigh between yours and his tongue in your mouth, fuck-

The elevator dings, signaling your arrival to your floor, and Frankie jumps away from you as the doors slide open. You don’t take it personally, not when you’re instinctually tugging your rumpled skirt down. You glance up, and Frankie is already staring down at you, gaze blazing as he braces a hand against the elevator door, holding it open for you. 

“Where’s your room?” he asks, and the question is casual, but his voice certainly isn’t. There’s promise in it, and you have to make sure your knees don’t buckle. 

“Why don’t I show you?” you say, stepping toward him to press your bodies together. Frankie doesn’t answer, he only cups a hand under your jaw, dragging your face up for a sticky kiss. It’s so much better than a yes.

He breaks the kiss far too soon, but one of his hands makes its way down to your ass, squeezing the fat of it through your skirt. “Lead the way, princesa,” he grumbles, and how could you ever think to refuse him?

Maybe you’re a little too eager in your walk to your room, but Frankie doesn’t seem to fare much better. No, he’s just as desperate as you are, with the way he presses you against the door of your room the moment you close it. With the way he swiftly kisses down your neck, sucking your skin between his teeth as he unbuttons your blazer, shoving the fabric down your arms. The buttons of your white undershirt follow, and you keen as he sucks maddeningly at your pulse point, his mustache scratching at the sensitive skin of your neck.

As soon as you’re divested of your shirt, Frankie’s moving again, kissing his way down your chest. He drags his teeth against the soft skin of your breasts, and you dig your hands into his hair. 

“Fuck, baby, you’ve got the prettiest tits,” he murmurs against your skin. It doesn’t sound like a line, no, it sounds like a prayer. 

“Frankie, please,” you breathe.

He looks up at you from his position at your chest. “What, gorgeous?” he asks, coy, as if he doesn’t know what you want. What you desperately need. 

“Please, just,” you use your grip in his hair to drag him back up to your mouth, and he goes willingly, groaning softly as his tongue meets yours again. “Please fuck me, Frankie,” you whisper, and Frankie groans like he’s dying.

“Take- take your clothes off, baby,” he mutters, and it sounds more like he’s begging than he’s commanding. “Take your clothes off, and get on the bed.”

He doesn’t have to tell you twice.

You have to make sure you don’t trip on your way to the bed as you kick off your heels. You tug your skirt and nylons down your thighs, making sure to wiggle your ass a bit more than normal as you bend over to tug them the rest of the way down your legs. You smirk at Frankie’s soft groan behind you.

The air of the hotel room is slightly cold, but as soon as you kneel on the bed, arching your back in a shameless display of your desperation, Frankie is burning hot above you, and you can’t feel the cold at all. Frankie’s thick, calloused hands palm your ass, and you moan as he spreads you apart, staring unabashedly at your aching cunt.

“Can I eat your pussy, baby?” he grumbles from behind you, and the fact that he’s asking permission to eat you out is making you so much hotter, making you clench around nothing. 

“Yes, yes, Frankie, oh please-” you whine, and Frankie barely lets you finish your sentence before he’s dragging his tongue in a long stripe up your dripping pussy. “Fuck, Frankie,” you groan, and he moans into you, sounding like he’s enjoying eating you out just as much as you are. 

His nose drags maddeningly through your folds as he brings his lips down to your clit, sucking it into his mouth and swirling his tongue around it in circles that send pure pleasure sparking endlessly up your spine. You arch your back into it, pressing yourself into his mouth, and Frankie groans again. The vibrations of it against your clit make you jerk wildly, whining high as you clutch desperate fingers into the pristine white sheets of the bed.

Frankie tries to keep you still with one of his big hands pressing into the small of your back. His other hand makes its way to your pussy, and you don’t even realize, not when he’s licking into you so feverishly, until there’s a thick finger pressing into your achy entrance.

“Frankie, oh my god-” you gasp wetly, his finger so much thicker than one of your own. It’s been so long, too long, since you’ve had the touch of anything other than yourself. Your tiny, traveling bullet vibrator doesn’t feel like this. You can’t stretch yourself like this, you can’t drive yourself wild like he can.

He moves his finger around inside you, searching, searching, while he licks softly at your clit. “Where is it, baby?” he mutters against you, and you have to force your brain to work at least a little bit to decipher whatever the fuck he means.

His finger is still searching, stroking against your slick inner walls, and you can barely gasp out a, “up, up,” before he’s finally touching that sweet spot deep inside you. You can’t hide it when he does, gasping out a high pitched moan as pleasure rockets up your body.

“There it is, sweetheart,” he says, “good girl.”

And fuck, how do you hold yourself together when he says things like that. He licks again at your clit, but plays with that spongy spot inside you, abusing it. You’re so slick and hot, it doesn’t take long before he’s pressing a second finger into you, then a third. And his fingers are so fucking thick, breaking you apart and pressing into that wonderful spot inside you. Your vision is blurring at the edges as he plays with you like a practiced instrument. How is he so good at this? Your body barely feels like it’s your own, just Frankie’s; his to play with, his to fuck. God, he’s ruining you. It’s never been this good.

“Frankie, Frankie-” you whimper his name like a prayer, and his fingers move fast into you, jackhammering you into the mattress. You whine as he breaks his mouth from your clit, but he keeps his fingers pressed deep inside of you as he leans over your trembling body. 

“C’mon baby, c’mon baby,” he mutters, moving his fingers inside you so roughly that you could swear he’s trying to break you in two. “What do you need, sweetheart? What do you need to cum all over my fingers, huh?”

“Just keep-” you gasp between shuddering moans. “Just keep talking to me, fuck, please-”

“Talk about what, gorgeous? Talk about how hard I am for you right now? How hard you always make me?” You whine at his words, and you can feel his smirk against the skin of your shoulder. His fingers move into you even harder, if that’s even possible. “Fuck, princesa, you have to know how fucking sexy you are. Make me so fucking hard whenever we fly together. Fuck, watched you bend over to pick up your bag once, right in front of me. Had to fuckin’ jerk my cock as soon as we got back to the hotel. Can’t help it around you baby.”

You feel like you’re underwater. Frankie’s voice is deep and dark in your ear, and your pussy is so fucking sensitive. You can feel your orgasm burning relentlessly in your stomach. Just a little more, just a little-

“Thought about taking you to the back of the plane, mid flight. Thought about fucking you hard, stuffing this pretty pussy, making you go back out to work with my cum dripping down your thighs. You want that, sweet girl? Fuck you’re so pretty, so pretty baby, you’ve gotta cum. Please, please let me fuck this pussy. Be my good girl, cum all over my hand.”

You don’t think he means it like a command, but you follow it anyway. You moan, throaty and wet, into the sheets as your cunt clenches around Frankie’s fingers, hips twitching as he presses reassuring kisses to your shoulder. You turn your head blindly, and he leans forward to meet your lips in a bruising kiss, his fingers buried deep inside as you gush all over his hand.

“Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me,” you whisper against his lips, repeating it like a mantra, and Frankie whimpers, needy and so hot that it makes you want to cry.

“Okay, baby, okay, I’ve got you,” he says, and you know he does. 

When Frankie presses the blunt tip of his cock against the opening of your sensitive pussy, you both groan. You push your hips back just as he pushes his hips forward, and the tip of his cock is just as big as the rest of him. Which, of course, means fucking massive. You have to breathe through the stretch of him inside you as he sinks deep, deeper, deeper. 

“Doing so fucking good, sweetheart. Jesus fuck- ah- so fucking tight baby- fucking beautiful- oh fuck-” Frankie mutters, sounding just as overwhelmed as you feel. It feels like forever until he bottoms out, his hips pressed against your ass as he hunches over you, hot and big and all man. It’s a dream that you’ve had before, but the reality is so much better than anything you could have ever imagined.

“So- you’re so big, Frankie,” you whimper, and Frankie groans behind you. “Need you to fuck me, wanna feel it tomorrow, please, please-” and he does. He pulls his hips back, just to shove himself back in, and the drag of his fat cock against that spot he found earlier has tears springing unbidden to your eyes. 

“Yes! Oh my god, like that, just like that-” you’ve never talked this much before during sex. But his unyielding thrusts, deep, deep inside, have you babbling wildly.

“Christ, you can’t talk like that, princesa, gonna make me blow my fucking load-”

“Want it, fuck Frankie, want you dripping down my fucking thighs, wanna gape open after you fuck me, oh god-”

Frankie fucks in harder, and it’s like every thought you’ve ever had flies out of you. His chest and stomach press into your back as he holds you still, thrusting desperately into you, harder and harder.

The bed is creaking, a rhythmic squeak that mixes in with the endless sounds of your keening whines and Frankie’s moans, and the obscene squelching of your pussy around Frankie’s cock. Your wetness drips down your thighs as Frankie bullies his way inside. He’s hitting that beautiful spot inside you, so perfectly, so overwhelmingly perfect, and fuck, tears are dripping down your face as you clutch onto a pillow, only able to squeak out pitiful whines of “Frankie, Frankie,” as he destroys you.

“So fucking gorgeous for me, god, bebita, fuckin’- fucking tight, fucking strangling me. Been too long, honey? Too long since you got fucked like you deserve?” Frankie growls into your ear, fucking you like a god damn animal.

Frankie’s lost control above you, which he just doesn’t do. He’s always in control, always, he has to be in this profession. But it’s like you’ve stripped him bare, literally and figuratively, to the most primal parts of himself. You’re so fucking hot and wet and tight around him, whining and throwing yourself back on his cock like it’s the best you’ve ever had, and he’s losing it. Losing it far too quickly, and he’s going to cum far too quickly.

“C’mon, baby, give me another one,” he groans, “squeeze my cock with this perfect fuckin’ pussy, wanna, wanna feel it.”

“Touch my clit- oh please, please, Frankie, ah- ah” and he does, the moment the words leave your lips. He reaches underneath the both of you, not breaking the rhythm of his hips driving into yours, and rubs two of those thick, calloused fingers against your throbbing clit.

“Fuck- yes, just like that, just like that, oh my god.” You’re slurring your words, so stupidly drunk on the feeling of his cock filling you over and over, of his body radiating heat above you.

“Gonna take care of you hermosa, make you cum like you deserve, so fuckin’ beautiful crying on my cock,” Frankie says, rubbing your clit hard and methodical. “Never gonna get enough of you baby. Gonna fuck you in every hotel we ever get, fuck you at the terminal, fuck this pussy in the god damn cockpit, oh shit-”

And you’re screaming, outright screaming into the sheets as the thread in your stomach snaps, your pussy clenching and gushing all over Frankie’s giant cock. He’s still mumbling into the cook of your neck, mindless mumbles about how pretty you are, how perfect, as you tremble through the most powerful orgasm of your fucking life. It’s devastating, it breaks you apart and puts you back together all at once, and you just have to trust Frankie to hold you together in his strong arms.

“Where do you want it, huh baby? Please, please, you’ve gotta tell me, oh shit-” Frankie whimpers, and it’s a damned good thing you still have enough brain cells to understand what he means.

“Inside, inside, 'm on the pill, please, please fill me up.” It’s fucking risky that you both didn’t even think about a condom, but with a man like Frankie, it’s hard to think about anything.

His hips still, his cock pressed inside so deep that it feels like he could be in your lungs, as he fills your pussy with his cum. He bites harshly into your shoulder, but it doesn’t fully muffle his whimpers as he crashes through his orgasm. Your eyes flutter shut. You wish you could bottle those sounds and listen to them forever.

Your knees slide out from under you, leaving you laying flat on your stomach, and Frankie follows, holding himself against you as you wait for your breathing to slow. 

“That was…” you whisper into the quiet.

“Fucking amazing.”

You can’t suppress your giggle. “Took the words right out of my mouth, Frankie.”

He tucks his face into the crook of your shoulder, and you can feel his pretty smile, before he’s lifting himself off of you, and you realize how cold you are without his heat.

“I’ll be right back, okay?” he says, and you can’t bring yourself to do anything more than nod. Frankie rushes quickly into the en suite bathroom, and you can hear the sink running for a moment, before he comes back. A warm, wet rag makes its way down your back, over the curve of your ass, and between your legs. He’s ridiculously gentle as he wipes you down, and it’s wonderful. 

Once Frankie deems you clean again, he climbs into bed next to you. He wraps his arms around your placid body, tugging you close. “Didn’t take you for a cuddler, Frankie,” you murmur, but you only snuggle closer, relishing in his deep chuckle.

“I’m usually not.”

“You don’t do this often, though?” you say, dragging a finger down his chest, your eyes already fluttering shut.

You feel Frankie’s lips press to your forehead as he murmurs, “I think I’m willing to let this,” he hugs you against him softly, “become a new habit.”

You smile, and you lean up to kiss him gently. “I wouldn’t mind that at all.”

[hindahoney]

If you want to code-switch so often that you are nearly incomprehensible to goyim, here is a list of my favorite and most-used Jewish terms:

Schvitzing - Sweating. (Ex: "I'm schvitzing so much it's showing through my clothes.")

Schlep - A tedious and long journey, depending on usage it can mean that you were carrying something. (Ex: "I had to schlep all the way across campus, my backpack was so heavy." Usually denotes a long walk, but other forms of transportation are acceptable too. "You drove all the way to New York from Florida? That's quite the shlep.")

Shtati - Something really cool. (Ex: "I visited my friend's place and they had a shtati mezuzah!")

Neshama - Soul. (Ex: "Mazel tov on your conversion, you have such a strong Jewish neshama!")

Balagan - A big mess, chaotic, confusing (Ex: "Moshe forgot to bring challah for shabbat dinner, and it turned into this big balagan")

Achi/Achoti - "Achi" literally means "my brother," but can also be used like bro or dude, "achoti" is the feminine equivalent meaning "sister"

Yalla - Come on, let's go (Ex: "Yalla yalla, you're going to make us late again")

Mishpacha - Family. Doesn't have to be literal blood relatives, usually a sign of warmth or friendship. (Ex: "I care about every Jew, they're all my mishpacha.")

Pshhh - Interjection sound, to express respect or agreement with what someone is saying, but can also be playfully poking fun at someone taking themselves too seriously, can be used sarcastically.

Achla - amazing, awesome, great, the best (Ex: "You graduated from university? Achla!")

Sheina Punem (Shayna Punim) - Pretty face (Ex: My bubbe kept pinching my cheeks and calling me a sheina punem) Can be used ironically, in which case it means "a disgrace."

Ahavat Yisrael - to love your fellow Jew (Ex: "I firmly believe in ahavat yisrael, even if it's hard sometimes.")

Schande - Shame, dishonor among the nations, meaning a Jew who represents Jews badly, a serious insult. (Ex: "He's a schande, he feeds into antisemitic stereotypes.")

Schmutz - Dirt, stain. (Ex: "Use your napkin, you've got schmutz on your face.")

Amalek - Any enemy of the Jewish people. ("[Fill in blank] is the modern Amalek, they hate the Jews.")

Lanceman/Landsmen - Two jews from the same place, a point of connection between two Jews who now live far away from their hometown. (Ex: "Your grandma is from Crown Heights? Mine too, our grandparents are landsmen!")

Goyisch - Something not Jewish (Ex: "I don't listen to Taylor Swift, her music is too goyisch for me.")

Goyischekop/Goyische-kop - Goyisch head, a jew who thinks/sounds like a non-jew. (Ex: "How could you say about your fellow Jew? Do you have a goyische-kop or something?")

Kindaleh/Kinderlach - Little children (Ex: "I passed by the school and saw the kindaleh on the playground, they're so cute!")

Chamud/Chamuda/Chamudi - Sweetie, cutie, usually aimed at children, but can be a term of endearment between a couple. Can be condescending when said rudely to another adult, like "Sweetheart" can be in English. (ex: "Goodnight, Chamudi. I can't wait to see you tomorrow.")

Daven - to pray ("Are you going to join us for davening?")

Frum - A religiously observant Jew. ("He's frum, he davens three times a day.")

Treif - Unkosher, generally something not good, doesn't have to literally refer to a food. ("I trained my dog to stop barking when I say 'treif!'.")

Bubkis - Zero, nothing, nada ("Moshe got a gift from bubbe and I got bubkis.")

Kvetch - To complain ("I'm just kvetching, I'm not that upset about it.")

Kvell - Extreme pride. ("I heard your daughter made it into her top school, you must be kvelling!")

Mensch - A good, admirable person. ("He volunteers every week, he's a mensch.")

Chillul HaShem - Disgracing God's name, someone who does something that makes Jews look bad.

Kiddush HaShem - Something that sanctifies God's name, brings honor to God. ("I love seeing you wear a kippah, it's a kiddush HaShem!")

Bubbe meise - Little white lies ("He told his teacher a bubbe meise about his dog eating his homework.")

I should acknowledge that these are mostly Yiddish words, as my experience is primarily with Ashkenazi Jews. If you would like to add common slang from your community (like Ladino phrases, Judeo-Arabic, Italki, etc) I would love to learn about them!

[mari-writes]

Akaashi Keiji has a secret. One that he’s sure people might be surprised by if they found out.

He has a deep, prevailing love for classical ballet. He’s not sure when it started. Perhaps when his parents took him to a Nutcracker performance when he was barely eight years old. To this day, he spends hours of his free time watching videos online, and reads about the history of the art form. He even convinces his mother to take him to see live performances on occasion.

There's something so romantic and expressive about dancing. The way the dancers can convey emotion through their body, with no words at all—it’s absolutely fascinating. Keiji admires them so much. He wishes he could be like that.

He doesn’t tell anyone. He’s not ashamed, just cautious. Dance should not be a gendered interest, but alas, society is strange. His friends and most of his teammates already know he’s gay. No need to push the stereotype further, right?

What he doesn’t predict is that his best friend (and secret crush), Bokuto Koutarou, is apparently also a fan.

“Akaashi!” The older boy exclaims, right over his shoulder. “Is that the Australian Ballet?”

Keiji flinches, scrambling to switch off his phone. “Bokuto-san,” he scowls, “it’s very rude to eavesdrop.”

“Oh, sorry!” Koutarou plops down next to him. Their futons are close, much too close, and Keiji can smell his mint shampoo. It’s distracting. “But seriously, is it?”

Keiji shoots a nervous look around. Most of the training camp attendees are either taking turns in the bath or wandering around campus, enjoying the warm evening. Only Komi is here, casually lounging with a magazine on the other side of the room. “Ah, um, yes,” he nods. “You’re familiar with ballet, Bokuto-san?”

The other boy nods enthusiastically. “My sister does it! My other sister and I tried it when we were younger, too!”

Surprised, Keiji stares. “I didn’t know that.”

“Yeah! I still do exercises I learned back then. It’s good for flexibility and to strengthen muscles. People don’t know how much of a workout ballet is! It’s really hard.”

Again Keiji nods, awkwardly shuffling on his futon so that he and Koutarou are sitting thigh-to-thigh. “Would you… like to watch the rest of this with me, Bokuto-san?”

Koutarou answers with a beaming smile.

They make it a habit of watching dance videos together. Koutarou is surprisingly knowledgable about the different companies, even mentioning specific dancers and performances. It’s odd, only because he never watches or talk about it otherwise. Perhaps he’s shy about his interest, too?

It isn’t until one evening, when Koutarou is staying the night at his house, that he discovers the truth. 

Keiji is eager to show his crush the souvenir program her purchased after seeing a performance of La Sylphide two years ago. He carefully passes it to Koutarou, wondering if the other boy will be surprised, or maybe even jealous that Keiji was able to attend such a special, sold-out show.

But instead—

“Oh! My sister was in this!” 

Keiji freezes. He turns slowly to look at his friend, unsure if he heard correctly. “What?”

“Yeah, she was made principal ballerina that year!”

Keiji frowns. “Your sister… performed with the National Ballet of Japan?”

“Yeah!” Koutarou grins. “She was there for two years, until she went overseas. I miss her so much.”

“Wait a minute.” Keiji is having trouble trusting his own ears. Because it sounds like Koutarou is insinuating… but no, that can’t be it. Can it? Suddenly frantic, he flips through the program, until he find the cast profiles. He leans in to look at the lead female dancer. A familiar face in the modern ballet scene. He blinks, turning to look at Koutarou, and then back at the woman on the page. 

Intense golden eyes. A wide, toothy smile. Silvery hair, with just a hint of black at the roots. “Bokuto-san,” he croaks, “is your sister… Bokuto Kai?”

Koutarou chuckles. “Well, yeah! That’s my Kai! Isn’t she so cool?”

Keiji chokes on nothing. He sputters, enough for his friend to reach over and pat his back consolingly.

“You okay, ‘kaashi?”

Is he okay? Keiji doesn’t know. The fact that his best friend’s sister is one of the most well-known ballet dancers in Japan, the world even, is actively shifting his reality.

“So… I guess you’re a fan?” Koutarou smiles in obvious amusement.

“Y-yes,” Keiji admits, thoroughly shaken. “I am. She’s incredible.”

One year later, Keiji is standing frozen in the threshold of his now-boyfriend, Koutarou’s family home. He’s been here many times, and spent time with most of the family. But the person at the door is not anyone he’s met before.

But oh, he knows her well.

“Ah, you must be Akaashi!” Kai Bokuto is short, the crown of her head barely reaching Keiji’s shoulders, but her immaculate posture seems to expand her presence. She’s wearing a cotton hoodie and leggings, her silver hair tossed over one shoulder in a long braid. 

She’s a vision.

Keiji’s mouth drops open. He blinks. “B-Bokuto-san, um, hi! Hello there. You… um, I… well...” His words stumble out of him like dominos. He’s never felt so inarticulate in his entire life.

Kai laughs. “Please, call me Kai! I’ve heard so much about you. Come in, Keiji-kun!”

When Keiji finds his boyfriend inside, he greets him with a light punch to the shoulder. “You could have warned me she was here,” he hisses, “I just made a fool of myself.”

Koutarou snorts. “You’re such a fanboy!”

“Shut it.”

It turns out, Kai and Keiji have a lot more in common than a love for ballet. Both of them love literature, poetry and art history. Kai regales him with stories of her time in Europe—including her recent stint in Paris, thes city Keiji wants to visit more than anything.

They also happen to be quite protective of Koutarou.

“He’s very important to me,” she says, as they watch Keiji’s boyfriend hurry to help his mother in the kitchen. “He means the world to all of us, really. It doesn’t matter how tall or strong he gets—he’ll still be our baby Kou.”

Keiji grins softly. “Yeah.”

They exchange numbers that first night, and stay in touch when Kai flies back to France for her next set of performances. She regularly sends him photos, poems, news articles, and of course, updates on the Parisian ballet scene. They ask each other advice on outfits and home design.

“Ya know, I’m starting to think you like her more than me,” Koutarou pouts, one morning when they are curled up in Keiji’s tiny dorm bed. 

“Are you jealous?” Keiji raises one eyebrow.

“Hmm,” Koutarou hums, “maybe a little…”

Giggling, Keiji turns in his hold, leaning up to touch noses. “Don’t worry, love. You’ll always be my number one star.” The comment seems to light a fire in Koutarou, whose face splits into a brilliant smile as he pulls Keiji in tighter. “Promise?”

Keiji smiles back. “Always.”

//

I love the idea that Keiji gets along great with Koutarou’s sisters, and admires them (almost) as much as his boyfriend. The idea for Kai being a ballerina was inspired by the beautiful artwork of Temari! I just can’t get the idea out of my mind.

Please, if you enjoyed this, reblog and comment! It really helps me out. 🥰❤️

[loupy-mongoose]

I have a very silly question for you.

Which of your characters would you assign as the protagonist to each mainline pokemon game.

(so for example, Randy was the protagonist of your BDSP/platinum playthrough, and Lav is for paldea)

duplicates are allowed

For the fun of it, I'll throw in which starter they'd pick as well. :3

Randy would LOVE to go to Alola, so I would like to have him be the protagonist of Sun/Moon. His starter.... I could see him picking Popplio. Surfing buddy. :3

Akoya I see fitting well in Sword/Shield. If she knew the starters' final forms, she'd pick Grookey. Big cool ape resonates with her. X3

Lav... I'm just gonna keep it to Paldea, and not even share which starter she'll pick.

I can also see Momo being in Sw/Sh, picking the go-getter Scorbunny. I feel like she would really get into the sports theme it has going. Also the giant Pokemon. XD

Midas I could see being in Black/White (maybe the 2's as well, but more so the first ones). With me seeing him as a Grass type trainer, he'd probably pick Snivy. (It could be fun to have him train the stereotypical "Smugleaf", lol)

Alola (Su/Mo) also feels like a good match for Persim, but it's hard to decide which starter he'd pick. He really wouldn't be a great trainer, per se. I feel like Litten would pick him, and drive him to be a better trainer. XD

Rosemary... Hmmmmmm.... Maybe she'd hear tales of Hoenn from her dad, and go on to be the protagonist of Ruby, Sapphire, Emerald, or more likely, Omega Ruby or Alpha Sapphire. She'd absolutely pick Torchic, assuming she knew their final forms. Blaziken is just her type.

I'll throw in the Branch crew too, why not~

Jovial I could see in Kanto--FireRed, LeafGreen, Let's Go. (maybe the OG GameBoy games, but I don't like playing them lol). She'd pick Squirtle.

Nicodemus I feel would be in HeartGold/SoulSilver (or the OGs). He'd pick Chikorita for it's chill vibe.

Pari... It's actually really hard to see her becoming a trainer. She already went alongside some trainers on their journey, and had a front-row seat to the trials and dangers they went through. So she might be a bit hesitant to do it herself. She'd much rather tag along with one of her human friends should they do another trainer journey. Mostly to protect them if something happened.

I don't know if that's what you meant, but I hope it was enjoyable nonetheless. X3

[tellthemeerkatsitsfine]

I know I was joking about my trip to the UK being like those stories of an autism stereotype, the 8-year-old white boy obsessed with trains, getting to go to a transit station and getting all excited. I said I'm like that but obviously with British comedians instead of trains.

That's what I said, but I have been in England about 24 hours now, and the main things I've taken pictures of have been trains.

It's so cool. We don't have transit like this in Canada. I love transit. I'd have more train pictures, but yesterday I was going around with someone and trying not to take pictures of too many mundane things. But I'm on a train on my own now, and I'm not even wearing headphones because I like the "mind the gap" announcement.

I mean, I have also got pictures of British comedians. Or at least, the stage of the small room where I saw Romesh Ranganathan, who's performed at the O2 before:

I'm pretty sure he was great. I'm not 100% sure because I spent the whole time being too excited about being in a physical room with him to process much that he said (that might not bode well for Kitson tonight). But I definitely had a great time.

Also, Sunday roast:

Fun fact, that thing on top, that is definitely bread and not pudding, is Yorkshire pudding.

Made a pilgrimage to the site of the greatest moments in comedy history, 2006-2022 (turns out it's also a very pretty park):

Also met a guy in person for the first time after meeting him on a comedy message board 2 years ago. All I was looking for when I sent him that first message were some comedy recordings. Now I'm staying in his spare room. Feels weird writing much about that because he reads this, but I'm pretty awkward about meeting people in person and yet that went well and he's awesome and so is his wife and cats.

Anyway, that was yesterday. I'm going around on my own today as my excellent hosts are working, and at the moment I'm not going anywhere whatsoever, because as Elis James and John Robins told us on the radio, Crystal Palace is not a tourist attraction.

Mind the gap. They really do say it every time.

[fwoopersongs]

[Book Rec + Reaction/Thoughts] The Lantern and the Night Moths 灯与夜蛾 by Yilin Wang

An anthology of translated poems by five modern or contemporary poets and accompanying essays by the translator, @yilinwriter.

You can find the pronunciation guide and list of corrections here!

The cover art, a beautiful expression of the tone of this collection, is by Taiwanese artist Ciaoyin (check out her gorgeous insta!). I'm looking forward to the arrival of the physical book as my tab absolutely does not do it justice xD

Anyway! The official release date is 02 April 2024 though there have been some very thoughtful reviews by early readers already. Here, here, here and here.

(It was an ARC that I received too… though in the time it took to put this together, the ebooks have already gone out to readers >.< typical snail yj!) 

Instead, I’ll tell you who I think would be interested in this book or might benefit from reading it, then share things that are cool about it from the perspective of a bilingual hobbyist translator + lover of ancient poetry and lyrics.

Who should read it?

If annotations, translator’s notes and reflections spark joy for you...

If you’ve ever read poetry translations and been intensely curious about what goes on under the hood...

If you’re a translator yourself wanting to hear another voice...

Definitely check this out!

Also if you’re CN+EN bilingual and have ever read something in English that references Chinese terms and concepts etc. except ONLY in English, pinyin or wade-giles and been utterly frustrated by the ensuing guessing game (like me) Fear Not.

That will not be a problem here.

I really appreciate how Chinese words are used naturally where needed for concepts and quotes - they are also translated for those who can't read Chinese so no one is left out. It made this book of and about translation (and more) super comfortable to read! The solution is so simple, so direct, so rarely used that I am amused.

Oh, but do note that the Chinese characters are in simplified though!

The poems are organised by their writers who are listed here by order of birth year, not appearance in the book:

秋瑾 (Qiu Jin, 1875 to 1907)

废名 (Fei Ming. 1901 to 1967)

戴望舒 (Dai Wangshu, 1905 to 1950)

小西 (Xiao Xi, 1974 to _)

张巧慧 (Zhang Qiaohui, 1978 to _) 

Altogether, that covers nearly the last 150 years up to now. I’ve never really been into poetry by poets in such relatively recent times, in part because I’d been holding on to this stereotype of them spurning Classical Chinese and ancient poetry in the first half of the 20th century (not entirely true, as I came to realise xD). It made sense and was understandable, but felt sad.

Yet am I the target audience for this book?

Very much so.

In ways I didn’t think I would be too! It was so much fun to experience this both as a reader and a translator that I thought I’d share it here, where we are appreciating Chinese poetry together.

If you didn’t think you’d enjoy modern Chinese poetry, hey, give it a chance!

Oh yeah - on the way home a while back, I was talking to a friend about translation and was surprised to hear that her impression was that it ought to be a straightforward process. Like isn’t it a 1:1 conversion? At some point, ‘what’s the difference between something google translate might return, and how you would say it?’ was asked, and oh that was a delightful question to my ears! I showed her one of my comparison sheets where an original text is laid out alongside multiple translations line-by-line, briefly explaining some common and unique choices and how the people who had translated those probably arrived at the various interpretations. She was pretty amazed to see that the answer to her question was: very different. Hey, it’s a complicated process!

But there’s only so much one can explain in the space of a train ride. That’s why The Lantern and the Night Moths is a book I would also rec to someone like this friend of mine - open minded and curious but never having the chance to think about or encounter the craft of translation.

Like Yilin says, ‘the meaning of a word cannot be fully expressed in one single translation, nor through a series of translation attempts’. She then explains why with great attention to detail and some solid examples from one of the poems with word choices loaded with subtle connotations :D

What's interesting about it?

Okay, for one, Yilin shared a playlist of music that she listened to while working on this book. Here is the link to the spotify one and the one on youtube. Check them out! They sure put me in the mood to read xD (favs: 别知己, 小神仙 & 去有風的地方) Afterwards, this made so much sense like - ah! an audio moodboard.

She's also putting together these adorable mini profiles of each poet along with a cmedia and tea rec to match their vibes. Go see them on her instagram xD

Now to business...

structure

What really helped keep the reader’s focus was the way each section is organized, how the poems and accompanying essay were presented and finally the short bio of each person right at the end. 

The poets are first introduced through five or six of their poems, works well suited to this purpose. Their voices, distinct through the vision, ambition and emotion of their words, are brought across by Yilin’s sensitive, thoughtful and poetic translations into English. These translations were also creative and transformative in a way that made so much sense after reading one of her reflections on the process, how she ‘must guide it with gentle hands to ensure its spirit is kept alive and intact during this transformative, and often excruciating process’. A rebirth into another language!

Personally, I’ve come to think of reading translations as looking at a work through another’s eyes. So it’s delightful when the translator’s presence is discernible, and even more so when the reader is given insight into their intention and process via commentary. 

Yilin’s essays coupled with the poets’ bios at the end provide a means to go back and appreciate their works in context of their circumstance and inspirations. Similarly, to read the translations with a changed perspective.

I don’t know how much of a thing this is with translated poetry anthologies in English - can count the number I’ve read with both hands lol, and they’re all of the ancient chinese poetry variety - but I really like this design.

drawing on poets who came before them

Remember how we’re always recognizing traces of inspiration from ancient works (to them) in poetry of the various dynasties? 李商隐 Li Shangyin of Tang for example, was influenced by 楚辞 Verses of Chu and folklore and mythology such as that in 山海经 Classic of Mountains and Seas, 李白 Li Bai frequently references poets and history of the 魏晋 Wei-Jin era, and 王维 Wang Wei was clearly familiar with Buddhist scriptures which were translations themselves! 

Just like the late Táng poets whom he praised for boldly deviating from the voices before them, Fei Ming used popular references and tropey shorthands ‘in contexts utterly different from the original, reimagining them anew’. Dai Wangshu, too, ‘boldly re-envisioned what modern poetry could look like by revisiting the classics’. In fact, in his very relatable ‘To Answer the Visitor with Classical Imagery’, I see Li Bai’s 春夜宴桃李园序, Qu Yuan’s 离骚 and lots of - as the title says - classical imagery, as if pulling out painting after painting to describe a feeling.

And Dai Wangshu’s faith in the translatability of poetry, that ‘poetry isn’t what is lost in translation, but rather, what survives it’ reminds me of what a friend, @xiakeponz, said that I agree with so much - because readers can ‘experience something in their own individual way through (your) shared humanity rather than language alone’.

poetic tradition and beyond

Between the lines of contemporary poets Zhang Qiaohui and Xiao Xi, I can really see the charm of plain vernacular, how it can be beautiful, incisive and clever in turns. Even as it seems to have moved further than ever from the structure and language of literary Chinese, the themes that inspired common motifs remain a part of life. Mother and divinity, homesickness, finding oneself, tributes to admirable spirits and the issues that trouble society - just in a new form and with different ways of expression.

Qiu Jin

So many FEELINGS about what Qiu Jin was doing - ‘I awaken the spirits of women, hundreds of flowers, abloom’. I would love if she could see the world now. So many things for her to rouse and fight against, but at the same time just as many to be proud of. I am so in awe of her, but now hearing her loneliness and struggle there is a soft spot in my heart for those too. 

conclusion

So so so…

Qiu Jin’s admirable fire and lonely resolve. Zhang Qiaohui’s precious ability to express beauty in the mundane and in pain. Fei Ming’s utter delight! He is having so much fun and when* I’m vibing, I feel it too. Xiao Xi’s critical eye and keen observation of the world. Dai Wangshu’s whimsical charm and passion for translation. Finally, Yilin Wang, the connecting thread wound through them all, bringing them together so that we may be acquainted. 

*Reading his poetry is like unwrapping a seamless, many layered present. A gift that keeps giving - if only you have a key 😅 Fortunately, Yilin has halved our struggle 🤣

I’ve had such a great time with them all. And if you come, I hope you will too!

[kinda-cute-kinda-insane]

Ochaco with a rich!reader who loves to spoil her

I was originally a yandere blog why am I writing fluff bruh (I swear I’ll come back to my roots y’all)

Fem!reader, Ochaco is not used to being spoiled with expensive things and get nervous whenever you do, reader have a crush on Ochaco and confessed, reader is older (by one year)

You were a second year in UA business department class. And just like any other business course students sports festival is a great opportunity for you to set your eyes on potential future heroes.

Just like everyone else you’ve heard about the recent attacks on USJ, so you payed more attention to the 1A students.

You can see a lot of promising students in that class, reckless but sure you can shape them to be better.

But on particular student caught your eyes the most, Ochaco Uraraka.

Amazing quirk, passionate too, and her unexpected tactics against her blonde classmates truly amaze you. Not to mention super cute.

What the hell, maybe you’re thinking too much of this, but maybe your friends prediction for ‘the oh so serious y/n’ to fall with a cute girl is true.

Well whatever stereotypes can go to hell.

Ever since then you began trying to get close to her, approaching her during lunch, having small talks and exchanging numbers. You even got close enough to call each other by your first name(A lot of your classmates complained saying how it took them a year to be able to call you by your first name)

But there’s one thing you love to do the most; giving her gifts. You suppose it’s because of how when you were younger your parents always gave you gifts as a sign to show love(and to make up how busy they were with their business)

So you done the same, giving her small gifts. Watches, perfumes, bags and literally anything that reminds you of her.

But Uraraka feels so overwhelmed. Listen, she love love the gifts so much, it means a lot to her! But it’s just too expensive not to mention the amount you give her too.

She’s not used to having all of this gifted to her, considering her family economic condition growing up.

And she feels bad, she felt as if she was just using you for money. She was not, but she can’t help but feel like it, every time she mentioned her likings to something you always come and give it to her like nothing!

She really like you, you’re just so kind, so cool, and so beautiful to her. And it bothers her that it seems she is being a burden to you.

So she decided to confront you about it.

“Hello Ochaco, mind walking to the gates with me?” You smiled at her. “Oh hey Y/n-senpai! Of course wait a second,” she said, hurriedly closing her bags.

You stood straight in front of the large doors, some of the girls inside began whispering to Ochaco with a big smile, leaving the said girl blushing.

“Bye guys,” she bid all of her classmates goodbye, while you just gave them a small nod. The walks are quiet, which was weird. Sure you were always the quiet type, but usually Ochaco would already talk about her day, how hard her class was or how exciting her hero trainings were.

“Hey Ochaco, is there something wrong?” You asked her, worried as ever. “O-oh there’s just something on my mind I guess,” she nervously replied.

“Is that so? Mind sharing with me?” You gently smiled at her, trying to encourage her to share whatever has been bothering her. “Uhm it’s about your gifts senpai,” she whispered.

“What’s wrong do you not like it?” You furrowed your brows, maybe the things you bought for her was not to her taste?

“No! No! It’s not like that I swear!” She said panicked, afraid that you got the wrong idea. “Then what is it?” You asked her again.

“It’s just… I’m not used to get these expensive things and I feel like I’m just using you as if our whole friendship is just all about material,” she sughed. “Oh Ochaco, I’m sorry I made you feel like that,” you gently took her hands and hold them.

“That’s just how I’ve been taught to show my affection, I have a hard time trying to communicate with my feelings,” you smiled at her. “I really like you Ochaco, and if it made you uncomfortable that I shower you with gifts then I’ll try to learn to communicate my feelings for you” your other hand gently touched her cheeks.

“So I’ll start with this, I have a crush on you Ochaco.” She immediately blushed at your words. You let go of her face “I’ll give you sometime to think about your feelings too okay? Whatever your answer is please, never grew distant from me.”

She shyly nods at you, you both continue to walk to the station still holding hands. You who refused to let go of the moment, and her enjoying the warmth whilst thinking about your confession.

Unknowingly the girls were looking above from the window, fangirling of your interaction with their classmates. Hopefully Ochaco is ready for the question thrown at her tomorrow.

[bosetsu]

Please tell us more about Russian train trip culture? We're constantly inundated by references to American road trip culture, but I know nothing about this and you got me curious!

I love to talk trains! So thanks for asking. Anyway. So I've got to preface that it's a bit more Soviet than Russian. And I am Muscovite so it comes with certain privileges. Russia/USSR is much more big on trains than on cars and planes. Not a lot of people had cars (though there was a whole other culture around cars). Air travel is more expensive and isn't easily available for a lot of towns/cities even now. (Especially now everything is ..ah interesting). We have two main type of trains. Short-distance electric trains or elektrichka. It's the one you take if you are going to a next town or if you go to your dacha (country house). Well, they are short-distanced FOR RUSSIA, I think they are supposed to be up to 200 km and no more. Elektrichkis are a bit dying everywhere except Moscow - we have integrated train systems into metro system now, and it's really cool, and I like it. There is a whole life happening while you ride. Like this

It can be quite nostalgic, but I still shudder after remembering riding with my granma every Sunday from dacha in a really crowded train where you get in by people shoving you inside and hoping not to suffocate. Fun time. Anyway. Do you know street musicians? Meet train musicians

Also meet every seller in a world with all kind of stuff from children toys to food. Meet one woman with a chicken, crowd of old women with motherfucking trees, African band and this three drunk philosophical guys with vodka bottle and pickles. It's a must. There are much more nice fast electric trains, but they are more rare and not that spectacular. Most famous book about elektrichka is Soviet book Moscow-Petushki about this guy on a journey trying to see I think his son in Petushki town. Spoiler: it doesn't end well. And also we have long-distance trains. Well. Russia is sort of kind of big. So you can spend days in a train just living your life having long chats with your neighbors, so it's strongly features in our movies/books/songs etc. Longest one is obviously Trans-Siberian Railway with it's length of 9000+ km. I don't think that a lot of Russians ever rode it the whole way though. I am not sure, it's a bit of a challenge. You absolutely must pay for a tea in a train because you get this glass with tumbler. It's ultimate train thing. This and chatting with neighbors.

Also there is a whole train food thing. You can buy instant ramen or go to restaurant car or something. But stereotypical train food is fried chicken and couple of hard-boiled eggs. And piroshki bought on a nearest train stop. Why? I am not even sure. It's not like chicken is known for keeping fresh without refrigerator. I was thinking about including train road map, but it's too big, so you get Moscow trains (lines that are governed by Moscow)

[ghoastixx]

Platonic Tord x GN Teen reader

(Unfinished) -I started writing this months ago.

An: a bit of a backstory cause this is sort of based off of a thing I’ve been doing- so basically the reader was apart of the Red Army since they were little and was raised in it to be a soldier. They never went to school and they never knew their parents, the red army supplied them with schooling and training. A few years later Tord, who had been working more personally with the reader, was like “yeah.. this.. I like this kid, this kid is mine now.” And pulls the reader from the army (most likely against their will) and adopts them. This takes place during The End part 1 and 2 and will be manipulated a lot- wouldn’t be fanfiction if we stuck to the original plot- right-? Haha-

Serious an: this is about the fictional character of Tord, not the real person. Leave the man alone, let him live his life. Y’all should know how to respect people, it’s not very hard. This is purely a platonic, fictional writing, between two fictional people. Got it? Cool. :)) Gave Tord the last name of “Red”

Warnings: none

———————————————————————————

The sound of lock picking was bouncing off the walls of the quiet house. Nobody was there accept for the red leader and one of his soldiers.. or, that’s what anybody else would think. Tord Red was currently trying to pick the lock of his old room in his old friend Edd’s house. There was a kid standing watch, Tord’s adopted kid. They used to be a soldier in the Red Army, having an array of different scars or other healed wounds, but right now, the only thing they were guarding was two suitcases, one was theirs and one was Tord’s. The kid seemed a little anxious, not really knowing how to act. This wasn’t like their stereotypical mission like when they were back in the army.

<flashhhbackkk>

They walked into the Red Leader’s office, shoulders and head held high, much like a soldier still.

“Sir, I- uh, sorry. Tord.”

The red leader looked up at them and smiled warmly,

“Y/n, take a seat.”

They sat in front of his desk, as they had done many times.

“You wanted to see me, sir?” As much as Tord requested them to call him by his name, it was hard to break a habit.

“Yes, I wanted to tell you of an upcoming mission I’ve planned.” Their eyes seemed to shine a bit at the mention of a mission. Tord noticed this and felt a little guilt. “It will be a mission with me, and it doesn’t involve and fighting, kiddo.”

“Oh?” Tord nodded,

“We’ll be flying out to London and living there for a while, with a few of my old roommates, Tom, Matt, and Edd. They have something of mine that could benefit the army in a great way that I’ve kept there for a while. We’re going to be living their for a few months until I can safely take it and come back.”

“And you want me to come along?” They asked, a little uneasy.

“Of course, you’re my kid. Plus, it’ll be good for you to socialize, kjære (dear), they will trust me more when they see I have a kid too..”

“Alright.. you have a point.”

“Good, I’m glad we have an understanding.”

<scene end>

Tord struggled with the lock as they looked around at the walls, looking at photos and trying to catch a glance at Edd’s cat which Tord had said was named Ringo. Suddenly, the front door opened, Tord didn’t seem to notice right away, and if he did, he was too occupied with the lock. Y/n backed into the shadow where tord was standing, to avoid immediately being seen.

“Harpoons, harpoons, they are better than spoons,” one of the voices got closer, he was carrying a few harpoons and was getting very close. He suddenly spotted the two and pointed a harpoon at them.

“Ah! Who goes there!” Tord looked up and walked into the light, the man who had no eyes’s face dropped instantly… this must’ve been Tom.

“What’s going on here?” A man in green, Edd, and a man in purple, Matt, came over, seeing Tord.

“Hallo, old friends.” Tord spoke, Y/n stayed in the dark a bit, watching. On guard. Even though they weren’t a soldier anymore, they constantly still felt like one. It was hard to get out of the mindset.

Edd hugged Tord, Tom spoke.

“What’s he doing here?” Edd and Matt had this big explanation thing, but Y/n didn’t pay any attention. They were focusing on their surroundings.. the harpoons, the people. Suddenly they were spotted.

“Tord, who’s this?” Tord looked over his shoulder, seeing them, and motioning for them to come out.

“This is Y/n Red. My kid.”

“Kid?”

“Kid!”

“Kid?!”

They all said in sync,

“Yeah- hi,”

Tom cut in, “how can they be your kid? They are a teenager.”

“Tom don’t be rude, besides, we knew Tord was coming anyways, I don’t know why you’re making such a big fuss about this.”

Y/n looked around, a little nervous, they felt all the eyes looking over them. “Sorry if my dad didn’t tell you I was coming, I assumed he would’ve.”

Tord looked over, his eyes sort of softening as he processed what they said. Y/n had never called him dad before.

“It’s alright Y/n, come with me, tell me what type of skincare you use. You’re practically glowing!” Matt said, dragging Y/n off.

“There is no way they are your kid.”

“I adopted them,” Tord shifted a bit, awkwardly. Edd stood between them.

“Well, I think it’s great, having Y/n around will be fun.” Edd tried to keep some enthusiasm as they went over sleeping situations. Eventually, all the boys came out to the living room to find Matt showing Y/n a scar concealer, much to Y/n’s amusement. Tord looked a little surprised, Y/n seemed to feel comfortable around Matt enough to let them see this part of them.. it was odd. They still acted like a soldier but now they looked like an interested kid..

Tom leaned on the couch, “so, Y/n, where you get all those marks?”

“Uh-“ Tord saw Y/n tense up a bit and look over at him, “oh- you know how rough the city is. Work’s tough y’know- Uncle Matt here is just showing me how to cover them up a bit-“

Tom noticed how their accent was like Tord’s, seeming to focus more on that rather than the actual answer. Edd went into the kitchen and got out a cola.

“So, Y/n, how’s school?” He asked, Tord leaned on the wall, watching this unfold.

“Oh, I’m homeschooled.” Y/n replied quickly, like they had already thought that answer though.

“Homeschooled?” Tom asked. “By tord?”

“Tord? No, dad doesn’t teach me. Just my other uncles. They taught me all I need to know.”

“That’s cool,” Edd responded. “Anything fun you like to do?”

“Well,” Y/n thought to themselves. “I like to read when I have a break.”

Tord perked up, he didn’t know that. He listened as Y/n talked to the boys before chiming in,

“Y/n, kiddo, can you come with me for a second, I want to show you our room.” Y/n, very politely, excused themselves and followed Tord down the hall. As soon as Y/n was out of eyeshot, they straightened their posture, becoming serious and straight, falling back into their soldier mold.

Tord opened the door and showed them the room they were gonna share, and let them set some of their stuff up.

“You sure you won’t mind me, sir?”

“Not at all, Y/n.. you don’t have to call me sir,”

“Sorry Tord.”

“It’s okay, kid. Can I ask you a question?”

“Hm?” They turned around to look at him.

“Are you ashamed of your scars?” Y/n seemed to be taken off guard by this.

“Well.. no. They all have a story I guess. Some are just, uglier than others.”

“I see… you know, you don’t have to call me dad in front of them if it makes you uncomfortable.”

Y/n kept eye contact, “im alright with it.. that Tom guy really asks a lot of questions, doesn’t he?”

Tord laughed a bit, “yeah, he’s a nuisance.”

[biscuitblinkeu]

Build A Bitch [1]

Park Chaeyoung x Fem!reader

Word count: 3884?

Warnings: this applies to every chapter: Profanity is used, and there is trigger warnings

A/n: Don’t ask why this chapters so long because I have no idea what possessed me to write that much, it’s practically two chapters in one… And, maybe, just maybe, I waited till I reached 400 followers (Wow! Thank you!) to post this series.

“Why is it that I always find you hiding in here?”

…………………………………………………………………………

Multiple times, when you have nothing to occupy your mind, the question is drawn about and you find yourself asking: what makes someone a Crazy Bitch? The term most indefinitely applies to women, and is said by a “friend” or man in most cases.

Is it a woman that has emotional problems?

“I don’t know how you deal with that crazy bitch. I’d never put up with her antics.”

Is it a woman who after a break up slashes the tires of your car, burns your clothes, and tries to get you fired from your job, that calls you the next day to reconcile?

“That crazy bitch keyed my car!”

Is it a woman who has suffered during their childhood, and as a result of the experience matures to be simultaneously lascivious and sexually aggressive?

“I refuse to go clubbing with her, she’s constantly acting like she’s going to fuck everyone— it’s embarrassing, you can’t go anywhere with that crazy bitch without getting into some kind of trouble. She needs to get help.”

You believe, contrary to the stereotypes that come with the term, that a “crazy bitch” is an intelligent woman who will call you out on your behavior. That will not put up with your bullshit and will hold everything in until you push her to the point that she explodes, and tells you everything about yourself. Verbally destroying your existence, and exposing you for the true piece of shit you are. There’s little to nothing (at all) mentally wrong with these women. Calling them crazy is the only defense a person has to make her seem unstable to everyone.

You slide into a chair, dropping your backpack to the floor with a sigh. You decided to go to your on-campus Starbucks to pass time till class starts. The campus is partially empty because no one takes morning classes. You’re here because you are, in fact, a morning person— though it doesn’t feel like that today. Today, you’d do anything for an extra hour or two of sleep. You’re here because you’re an art major, because your professor, Mr. McCarthy, believed waking up at the (ass) crack of dawn is the most effective way to get those “creative juices” flowing. In short, you and your peers had no choice.

On any other day you would’ve enjoyed your 8:00am life drawing class, but your head is killing you, and so are your feet (you should’ve taken the train) since you wanted to walk across campus and enjoy the morning dew of spring. You’re thirsty and you have half the mind to go and get free water at Starbucks but you don’t want to get up. Everything is just so bright and dizzy. Thus why your head is situated on the oh so cool table top, offering you short relief and bliss.

“(Y/n)!”

You groan, slowly lifting your heavy head from the table in hope of easing the splitting throb and squint at the woman who’s robbed you of your peace. She finishes the journey to you and pulls out a chair next to you and you wince. Everything she does is too loud for you right now.

“Lisa,” you sigh, exasperated. “Would it kill you to be a little more subtle?” You sound tired and your voice is a little raspy from the lack of hydration.

Lisa stops talking about her multiple cats and pauses, finally giving you a look over. “Oh.” She whispered, looking apologetic. She gives you a deprecatory smile. “Hangover?”

You nod numbly and Lisa gets up without another word. You close your eyes, only to feel the back of them throbbing in tandem along with your head. About two minutes later, Lisa is back with a Gatorade and banana walnut and pecan loaf.

She sets them in front of you, smiling. “Here, for you. I hope you feel better.”

“Oh, you didn’t have to Lisa, thank you.” You uncap the Gatorade and take a few sips, feeling much more comfortable now that your throat is wet. What would you do without Lisa?

The Thai befriended you freshman year when you shared the photography-I class with her. You didn’t even know how to use a camera if it wasn’t your phone’s. She helped you get through the class with good marks. She ignored what others told her about you and approached you— and you don’t know why she did, because freshman-year you was a trip. You bonded over your love for the arts and animals, quickly becoming close friends. Now, it’s your junior year and you’re still close as ever. You wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize your friendship.

You and Lisa don’t share as many classes this year as you did prior, but you still hang out often. Lisa shares the photography-III and English class with you this year. She majors in dance. Lisa excels in all her classes— especially dance. (This girl can really move!)

As you eat the banana-pecan bread, you wonder why Lisa hasn’t asked you why you have such a bad hangover. Usually she’s on your tail about that, lecturing you on why you should stop going out so much. She knows you went to a party in the upperclassmen’s dorms last night with your Fine Arts major friends.

You observe Lisa, who rambles on about the new choreography she’s learning that she wants to show you, and wonder. Has she finally given up on making you a better you? Is she dissatisfied and disappointed that you still went to the party against her wishes? That you continue to mingle with those:

“Poor excuses of a friend group.”

“Bad influences.”

“Scrooges.”

“Substandard stick-figure drawing shit-heads.”

The last one makes you laugh because it’s the first time you heard Lisa use obscenity and curse. She was really mad that time: when she found out the art portfolio assignment you worked on won the drafting to get featured in a student art showing at a popular museum, she was ecstatic for you. But it failed to be submitted because you were suspected of plagiarism.

For some reason your work looked incredibly similar to your friend’s. It was obvious she copied you. Lisa thinks that your friend had very obvious intentions. If she doesn't win, you don’t win. You go down with her. So when it was obvious you were going to win, she pirated your hard work. Even acted like you stole hers— and the fact you were “friends” didn’t make anything better.

You were devastated at the time, but got over it. Lisa never did, and with a vengeance, she even got her law major friend Jennie involved. Now that? That was a whole mess.

“Why are you staring at me?” Lisa pipes up, and you realize she’s finished her rant and has been calling for your attention for quite some time now.

“You’re not going to ask…?”

“Do you want me to?” Lisa smiles knowingly.

“Yes, actually. Please bestow some of your wisdom on me.” You joke.

“Well,” Lisa begins. “How was the party?” Internally letting out a sigh at her broad question, you know she has to start somewhere.

“It was…interesting.” You say, trying to give a noncommittal response, which you suppose will suffice, considering that you were drunk and can hardly remember the whole event anyway.

“Interesting how? What were you up to?”

Oh, just your usual sexual escapades— can’t tell her that, though, can you?

You shrug and sip from your Gatorade, avoiding eye contact with her. “I don’t remember much…just drinking, dancing, I might have kissed a few people too.” You mutter, almost to yourself.

Lisa furrows her brows. Her gaze flickers to your neck, scrutinizing the expanse of revealed skin. She does this for a moment more before speaking again, seemingly satisfied with what she saw: no marks. “Did you hook up with anyone?” She asks, and the hint of concern in her voice doesn’t go unnoticed.

Lisa wasn’t fond of you sleeping with people you or she didn’t know well, even if those said people went to your college. Lisa may not approve of some things you do, but she’s a loyal friend who just wants you to stay safe.

Your face feels warm. “No,” you assure her. “Just kissing.”

Right.

She lets the topic go after that, and she tells you what’s happening in her life right now. Along the way, she got up to buy herself a drink as well, having to stand in a line now that more people are arriving.

It's then when you get a text. Upon opening the chat, your heart drops to your stomach. A text, followed by a chain of photos of you that are absolutely humiliating. The pictures seem to have the one focus to show you in some type of lewd way— like you’re some kind of horny bitch.

The first attachment has you captured during a passionate kiss as you're grinding onto a man’s lap, arms hooked around his neck as he holds your hips. Another shows you with hands slightly under a woman’s dress, you have her pinned against the wall, your lips together in an eager manner. The rest of the pictures follow a similar fashion, some even having inappropriate comments edited on the bottom.

Your phone dings again. It’s a message this time.

Oh God. Your stomach lurches and that deep feeling of anxiety begins to boil. You reread it over and over, irrationally hoping the words are just an illusion and that if you read it again and again the words will change. (They don’t.)

What if I were to post these online?

Your first thought was that whoever this is, is joking. This is just some sick prank from someone who was at that party last night. Who would be that invested in your life to go to the extent of stalkerish behavior?

You must’ve taken too long to reply because another one is sent a minute later.

Everyone knows you're a crazy bitch, what harm will it do?

Oh?

Your jaw is clenched and you stare at the images and texts, seething. That two worded term gave them away. There’s only two people who still call you that, so it’s either both or one of them responsible for this.

With trembling fingers, you turn off your phone. Taking a deep breath, you close your eyes. Hundreds of thoughts are racing through your head— but the recurring question lingers: How dare they?

It’s another thing that you’re not even disappointed. A little shaken, yes. Shocked? Totally. But disappointed? Not at all.

You knew.

So, it feels like cold water was poured on you, it feels like being slapped; with reality. It’s the long awaited, big and regretful I-told-you-so moment— because Lisa told you so.

And because Lisa told you so, you’re going to do what Lisa told you not to do (if this situation was to come).

You open your eyes to Lisa, still in line, looking at you in concern and confusion, probably wondering why you look so distressed. “You alright?” She mouths, brows knitted. You smile weakly, giving her a thumbs up before looking at the white marbled floors.

A moment later you open the contact again and stare blankly at the screen, thinking about your plan of action. This is considered blackmail, isn’t it? That means that the course of action you should take is talking to a blackmail attorney and reporting who sent those photos. And as satisfying as that sounds— that whoever sent those would be fined or sent to prison— you don’t plan on doing that. (Yet.) There’s much more satisfying ways to deal with this, afterall.

You nearly fall out of your chair when a hand touches your shoulder.

“(Y/n)? Who sent those?” (Thank God) It’s Lisa, who now stands directly behind you looking over your shoulder. She’s frowning and looks as if she’ll blow a fuse if you don’t answer her, and quickly too. But all you can think about is finding the person/s who took these. The chair you were sitting on skids on the marble as you abruptly stand, shoving your phone into your sweatpants’s pocket and gathering your things at a fast pace.

“Where are you going?” Lisa asks, alarmed as you start walking towards the building exit. “Wait!” She reaches out and grabs your arm. “…Just don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, alright?”

“I won’t.” After today passes, you think.

Loud laughter that turns silent, turns into grumbles and bitchy whines very quickly.

“Hey guys!” You shout when you’re a few footsteps away from their little circle, moving towards them quickly. They’re always in the same spot, it wasn’t hard to find them. Iseul, Ramus, Riley, and Krystal were all surrounded around Jackson, looking down at his device giggling like little girls. They barely had time to react as you bulldozed through. “What’s so funny? What are we laughing about? Let me see,” you forcefully snatch the phone out of his hand much to his shock.

So funny. Just fucking hilarious. They were laughing at the pictures of you— of course, and they seemed to have had lots of fun coming up with captions at the bottom of the photos and playing with the dumb filters.

Almost immediately, you delete the file from the photo editing app they used, exit out, and click onto his photos. Krystal, the Barbie wannabe is on her toes a moment later, ready to snatch the phone out of your hands. You see, you have to be careful around her; you all call her “Swiper” (no swiping) for a reason. She swiped your ex; Jackson; your cash, your clothes, your art, your— you get the point. But she’s the clumsiest person you know, so you're not really surprised she tripped onto her ass when you dodged her outstretched arm.

You deleted the photos from the Camera app on his phone, and then you had to go to the Photos app and delete them again, permanently. On to the Messages app now.

You can’t help but question why this is so easy. Your little group has five people, but only two of them are actually trying to get the phone back. Jackson chases you down and wow, is it hard to run and tap on a phone at the same time. You’re lucky you ran track in highschool. Eventually you ran out of places to run due to the lake behind you that cuts the campus halfway into two parts. Maybe you shouldn’t have ran onto the dock. It’s not like it was built all the way to the other side, so you’re trapped.

“Give me my fucking phone back (Y/n),” he growls. You shake your head.

Just as you deleted where every trace of those pictures you can guess were saved, he’s lunging towards you. And you do the only thing you can think of— kick him in the groin. He falls to his knees right after a curse leaves his lips, crumpling into a ball as he holds that area.

You gasp. “Oh I’m so sorry, you can have your phone back now.” You purposely place the phone near the edge of the dock where he lays and walk away. His hand reaches out for it but, not surprisingly, it falls in the water. “You fuckin’ crazy bitch!” He all but screams, fist hitting the wood of the dock. You roll your eyes and pick your bag up from the picnic table before heading to class.

…

Lisa doesn’t ask you what you did when she came to your dorm in the late afternoon. (It was just you and her, no Krystal).

You shake your head. “I can’t stay in this dorm anymore, Lisa. I was lucky to come back and see my things still intact but she’ll make my life a living hell if I stay, I know it.”

Lisa bites her lip as she looks elsewhere, presumingly thinking. “Well. I have a friend who doesn’t have a roommate right now. She hasn’t for a while, somehow,” you raise a brow, interested. “If you ask me, I think the school gives her extra attention but she denies it every time. She even has one of the big dorms with a kitchen and bathroom, and she turned the extra space into a living room.” Lisa laughs.

“So you think she might let me move in?” You ask hopefully.

“We’re talking about Roseanne here,” she muses. Lisa watches your eyes grow wide, recognition highlighting your features.

You melt into the beanbag chair lazily, looking at the ceiling. “Roseanne is really nice,” you start, and Lisa nods. “But I’m sure she likes her privacy. And me? I’m nosey as hell and loud— unintentionally. What if she thinks I’m annoying? Or what if she remembers how I acted Freshman year and immediately says no? What if she thinks I’m some mean bitch?” You groan, every good trait of yours you can think of is canceled by a bad one.

“Hey,” Lisa raises an eyebrow at you. “Don’t write yourself off yet, you never know. I don’t believe she thinks that either.”

“How do you know?” You question.

Lisa throws her hands up, smiling teasingly. “I don’t, but my words still stand.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

You’re about an hour into a movie when Lisa move’s suddenly. “Shoot,” she says, looking at her watch. “I have to go out for dinner with some of the dance majors, but I’ll bring the roommate thing up to her tomorrow and we’ll see what happens, okay?”

“Yeah. Thanks Lisa.” You hug her goodbye and then with a click of the door she’s gone.

***

True to her words, Lisa seeks out Roseanne in a free time period they share. She had traveled from the new arts building to the old arts building, and hoped to find her there. (A part of her hopes she wasn’t in that creepy building.)

The building’s lights still worked, but there was no one using the classrooms, so dust and spiders made them their homes. You had to have a key to get in the main door, and only one person had it. Lisa walked down the long hallways, jumping at little noises or shadows (including her own), and looking around wearily. Lisa knew Roseanne was slightly odd, maybe that’s why she’s able to be alone in an empty abandoned building.

Further down, she hears it, and makes her way to the soft melody that escapes from a familiar battered oak door. Lisa pokes her head in, and just as she suspected, she was there.

“Why is it that I always find you hiding in here?” Lisa muses as she squeezes past the door frame, blowing out a puff of air. That door only opens so much, and she thinks she might have skinned her knee on the lower hinge. (That’s gonna burn in the shower later…)

Slender fingers once gliding across ivory keys halt their movements. Roseanne rests her hands in her lap and turns to her friend with a smile. “Who said I was hiding? And what if I like being holed up in here?”

Lisa rolled her eyes playfully. “You know what I mean and I know you like being holed up in here.” Looking around, she spoke again, “I see you cleaned up some more and moved things around.”

The room was an old music classroom that was abandoned when classes were moved to a newer building, the old equipment stayed. It was a small room but now that Roseanne had moved and stacked up the old music stands and chairs, it was spacious. The curtains were open and the sun shone through, enhancing the satisfying rustic look of the room. She had to have also dusted and swept the floors since Lisa didn’t sneeze immediately upon walking in. “It looks nice.”

Roseanne hummed, eyes flickering across the painted vines and colorful roses on the piano’s surfaces. “Thank you. But you never come back here without very good reason to, what’s up?”

Lisa shrugged and sat herself on the windowsill. That was true, Lisa doesn’t do spiders, spiderwebs, dust, or creepy, mostly empty hallways. “I missed you, that’s one thing.” Roseanne was in Melbourne on vacation, so they haven’t seen each other since break.

Roseanne’s expression shifted into one of amusement. “I missed you too Lisa. It’s good to be back,” her fingers began picking idly at the piano's edge. “But what else brings you over? I can tell you want to ask me something.”

“Ah, do you remember (Y/n)?” Roseanne nods. “Well, the relationship between her and her current roommate is sour— it’s always been sour if you ask me, so she wants to move dorms.”

“And?”

“I told her that you don’t have a roommate...”

Roseanne knew what Lisa was implying already yet asked her to continue as she found amusement in Lisa’s nervousness. “And would ask if you’d consider letting her move in. But it’s totally okay if she can’t, she knows you like having the privacy.”

Roseanne let out a heavy breath and leaned against the piano, running a hand through her hair as she thought.

Other than some factors, she doesn’t see why she would deny. If she agrees, it would save you the time of being put on a waitlist with the other students who want to move dorms. It could be fun to have a roomate again, she thinks. It’s not like you’re total strangers either, both friends of a friend, Lisa being the link between.

“Okay.” She says.

“Okay?” Lisa repeats.

“I won’t say yes till I talk with her.” Roseanne runs her fingers across the small dips in the piano keys. She’ll have to lay down some groundwork and ask you some questions. The worst thing she wants to do is let someone nasty into her dorm— not that you are…hopefully.

“Oh! We can arrange that, um when did you want to meet up? I can tell her,” Lisa looks happy.

“Tomorrow is fine.”

“Alright then, thank you for considering this.” Roseanne nods and Lisa stands up. “I’ll head back for dance class now,” she says, “Stay safe okay? Watch out for ghosts too— I swear I’m hearing things.” Lisa shivers.

“I will Lisa,” she cocks her head to the side, “don’t get scared walking back.” Roseanne’s teasing earns her an eye roll.

“Yeah, yeah.” After Lisa slips out the room, she waits a few seconds to see if Lisa will come back; she does. Lisa pops her head back through the door and yells, “if you get a call in a few minutes you better answer it!” Lisa may need to call her if she gets scared walking through the hallways.Then she is gone.

Chuckling under her breath, Roseanne scoots back to the edge of the bench, her back straight with her arms relaxed and in front of her, before resuming to play. An upbeat song, she began with and played, before the music slowed to something soft and melancholic, and Roseanne closed her eyes at the sound, allowing herself to be drawn into the world of the music. These keys— any piano keys really— to her, were like a past memory. Something she can fall back on whenever her thoughts get the best of her.

And tomorrow, she’d have to meet up with you.

-

Would you like to continue?

-

Another A/n: Y’all don’t know the hell I went through italicizing words. Like why doesn’t tumblr do that for me? Why don’t you transfer exactly what I write on a google doc here? (😭)

[mikasas-biggestwhore]

Aot headcanons (Last part)

a/n: I got hella busy and had to heavily slowdown on my requests so this is a headcanon post to make up for it. I’ll be back to posting regularly posting soon just hang in there ‼️

Okay now that that’s over, most of these hcs are modern ones. Enjoy :)

Includes: Erwin, Levi, Hanji,

Erwin

This is probably a common headcanon and Erwin definitely makes dad jokes. You can’t do anything around him or else he is definitely going to make a joke out of it some how in someway.

I know a lot of people see Erwin as more as a history teacher guy and don’t get me wrong I do too but I feel like he would need more action. I can see him being a firefighter that rescues cats out of trees or a police officer that has a trained dog by his side

Erwin was definitely right handed and losing his right arm was a very big L. Of course he adapted and in the end he actually is a better lefty then righty. Like his hand writing before was good but now??? Shit looks elegant.

I see him as a romantic. Not like a stereotypical romantic though. Sure he would kiss your knuckles and walk you like the gentleman he is but at the same time he’ll declare to race somewhere out of nowhere and then shove you so he can get a head start.

Going off of that Erwin is a cheater bruh. Not relationship wise but if y’all ever play a game he’s def cheating. I mean he did use his soldiers as pawn for personal gain so it makes sense. NO NOT PLAY BOARD GAMES WITH HIM. He’s either stealing money from the bank while your not looking or either he’s distracting you so you forget it’s your turn. 

Levi

I’m pretty sure it’s canon but Levi is amazing with animals. He’s the type of person that could just be minding his own business and suddenly he finds a kitten that is in desperate need of help and clings to him immediately.

Another thing a lot of people probably agree on is that he’s more of a cat person. I can’t see him ever liking dogs because of how ‘messy’ they can be and how much work and training they require. I have both and can agree cats are less work then dogs 💀

He has a soft spot for little kids. As cold and clinical Levi is I genuinely don’t think he has it in him to be upset with like a 5 year old. Sure annoyed because who wouldn’t be but mad? Nah never. There’s an age limit though if your 12 and up your feeling his wrath regardless.

This is another common headcanon and it’s that Levi runs a tea shop. Okay cool but Imma put my own twist. He runs a tea shop and bakery that connect. Like let’s be fr I know this man knows how to cook. He’s literally so good at anything else why would he not be able to cook? So if he ever opened a tea shop just know there would be a bakery right beside it.

If there was a line of work I could see Levi in it would be the FBI or federal government type of stuff. That or he would be a private investigator. All his skills work out for either and I feel like he would be on of the best in the business. No question about it at all.

Hanji

Hanji has broken several pairs of their glasses. They never break them like a normal person either- What do you mean you dropped them in a enclosure at the zoo? You shattered them from one of your experiments? Do I even wanna know why they are split in two? Yea they constantly break them.

Hanji is an animal person and literally has the most outrageous pets. They have a wolf dog just because they have the space and time for one. The have caracals that live in their house with their own space. They totally have capybaras and prairie dogs too. It’s practically a zoo at their house.

I feel like Hanji is one of those people that just had bad luck. They have no clue what they did to upset the universe but things only happen to them. Say they’re having a nice outing with Levi and Erwin and it starts to rain. They all pull out their umbrellas. Why is Hanji’s the only that breaks.

Hanji is 100% an adrenaline junky. Like they would go skydiving and swim with sharks for fun. It’s something about the rush that makes them so excited and they love having that feeling. It’s not odd at all for Hanji to come back and tell everyone a wild and crazy story

It sounds plain to say if Hanji had a job they would be a scientist. So instead I think they would be a biomedical engineer. Imagine them making fake organs to save people. Or they would go into the field of prosthetics. I just think that they would want to be in a field that includes medicine and helps people. 

Wooo we are finished with aot hcs unless yall make requests 🤭

Part 1

Part 2

[atom-writings]

Could I ask for main 8 x telekinetic nation reader? Maybe Y/N waited until they're well into the relationship because they've been shut out and forced to be used as a weapon before.

hetalia main 8 with a telekinetic reader

1k words ~ a/n DIDNT READ THE NATION PART. WHOOPSIESS i kinda wanna do a larger nation reader thing tho.... so ill do that part later :3

tw - none!

America

Alfred is just so EXCITED, I mean, you’re like a superhero! Like something out of a comic book! You’re incredible, he just CAN’T stop gushing about you.

Which, you really have to get him to stop. He can be completely honest about his supernatural identity, so he doesn’t really understand why you can’t. If anyone tried to hurt you, you could just, like, explode them with your mind, right?

He’s very horrified to find out that… that’s not how it works. Although he’s not the greatest at comforting his partners, he immediately sympathizes. The thought of someone treating you like that hadn’t even occurred to him, like, you’re so cute and nice… who could do that?

Whoever did that, well… they’ll never do it again. The two of you will defeat them, no problem!

(Yes, he still thinks his life is like a comic book)

England

Woah, that’s incredible! You’re doing real magic, just like he can! Oh, it’s like a… scientific thing and not magic? Well… maybe the scientists are just trying to rationalize what they can’t understand. Trust him, you’re magic.

Exactly how much can you do exactly? Because if you don’t know, he’s excited to help you learn. He’s trained plenty of magic users over the centuries, you couldn’t be in better hands.

Don’t worry, he would never let anyone take advantage of you again either. You’re lucky that you happen to have someone in such a high position because he is absolutely going to make sure no one uses your ability against you. No, never his darling.

(He’s also definitely gonna lean into the Wizard couple thing now. Expect to move into a super stereotypical witch house with him in the near future)

France

How horrible! You’ve been blessed, and yet people only torture you for it?! Well, now, you won’t have to worry about that at all, Love. He doesn’t see you any differently.

Although he does appreciate you having telekinesis… for the simple reason of when you two are cuddling on the couch, he doesn’t have to get up to grab the remote.

Plus, now he can brag to Arthur about having a super cool magic S/O. He’s gonna be so jealous~

China

Ok, so you have superpowers. So does he, technically, so like, whatever.

Probably the least interested out of all of them. He’d appreciate you using your ability around the house, but if you didn’t, he wouldn’t care (he wouldn’t remember…)

Although, the thought of people mistreating you for it does make his blood boil. He’s had plenty of experience with that himself… and he is absolutely not tolerating it anymore. If any of your former abusers showed their faces around the two of you, they’re getting kicked in the face.

Russia

Wait, you’re serious? That’s… so cool! So, you’re magic, right? Can you make other people like him with your mind? Or make them think HE’S magic so they’re scared of him? No? Oh… well, still, very cool!

He obviously wouldn’t judge you at all. He’s got superpowers too, in a different way.

He’s been mistreated throughout his whole life for his supernatural abilities, so the fact that you were treated the same? It makes him want to rip everyone who did that apart. Which… you will have to stop him from doing (or let him, up to you, I guess.)

I’d imagine some people from his government might try to experiment with you again, but Ivan would absolutely not allow that to happen. He will hide you in a submarine in another country before he lets anyone treat you like a weapon or a science experiment.

Italy

His immediate reaction is gonna be to ask a bunch of invasive questions. Sorry. He’s just curious and has absolutely no social filter.

But as soon as he exhausts himself with his tasteless line of questioning, he’ll basically forget about the whole thing. The first time you use your ability after that, he’ll be scared out of his skin.

(If you don’t tell him it was you, he’d probably order an exorcism on his house…)

He might be meek, but he’d never let anyone treat you badly because of your ability. He wants you to think of it as a gift, not as a curse! It’s what makes you special.

Germany

Wow, that’s fascinating. For how long? How does it work? Does your family have it too? W-

Sorry. His scientific brain will immediately go crazy. He wants to run a bunch of tests and find out EVERYTHING about you. Which is obviously, very, very uncomfortable. He does care about you! He’s just a nerd

But as soon as you tell him about what people have done before, he’ll instantly regret his behaviour. No, you’re not just a weapon to him. Just an incredibly special person.

He’ll be a lot more casual about it after that, but he can’t help staring in awe whenever you display your power.

Japan

Much like Alfred, Kiku is very enthusiastic about the superhero angle of your ability. He’s so lucky to be with someone so unique, that’s all he can think whenever he sees you using telekinesis. Although he does sometimes secretly hope that you’ll get into some anime girl conspiracy plot… just because it’d be cool.

He’s a little insulted that you waited this long to tell him, but he’d never tell you that. Especially after you reveal why, then he feels extra guilty. Now he’ll put in a lot more effort to make sure you know that he’d love you no matter what.

Luckily, he’s still a fierce enough fighter to keep you safe from anyone trying to turn you back into a weapon. Not on his watch.

[theres-whump-in-that-nebula]

Types of People in a JW Congregation

The professionally-trained(?) opera singer; always extroverted, with a booming laugh, and is either a super nice person, or the most passive-aggressively hateful son of a bitch you’ve met in your life. If they’re a guy, he’s an elder; if they’re a lady, she’s an elder’s wife

”Promising” young brother (fourteen-year-old mic handler) who has such a suave voice, it sounds like he’s recording an audiobook any time he opens his mouth; probably can’t carry a conversation to save his life

Group of plump old ladies who always sit in the back and wear fancy suits with matching hats; they have arms like a hydraulic press and will crush you when they hug you

That one brother you swear is a closeted gay man because he wears loud suits, bow ties, and has all the stereotypical mannerisms; but then he gets up on the platform and says the most homophobic shit ever; usually really nice, not necessarily because he actually is, but you feel that way because you feel sorry for him

Five-year-old who gives disturbingly articulate comments and is probably hyperlexic (reads their parents’ words off a card and gets all the credit for it); householders think she’s adorable and she places literature without trying it it’s a me

Old crotchety elder (or group thereof) who likes to fuck with the mind of one specific guy for a prolonged period of time, to the point of giving said guy severe health problems; has driven at least five people out of the congregation and/or out of this mortal coil

Young People who present “The Truth” in such a new, hip, and cool way, it’s physically painful to listen to

Mother who nudges their kid to answer and whispers what she wants them to say in his ear, word-by-word; said kid always sounds like he was just awoken out of a dead sleep

The elder’s wife who smiles too much; probably bursting at the seams to gossip about you

Super Witness Wife and her unbaptized mate who you could have sworn was already a ministerial servant; they’re both really fun, actually

Middle-aged pioneer with seventeen studies who’s dying from stress; usually ends up having some kind of mental breakdown or health concern

The POMI who shows up once in a blue moon; visibly dissociated from reality

Keepers of the Bonfire Party (probably old and/or wealthy, with a forest for a backyard)

That One Sister with a questionable hairstyle who everyone lets slide because she’s a pioneer; has dyke energy

Quiet single person who never comments and always leaves immediately following the prayer; either everyone wants to talk to them, or no one seems to like them and ignores them, depending on how old, attractive, and visibly neurodivergent they are

Person who will talk both your ears clean OFF about Jehovah and how he “helped” them; seems happy but is severely depressed and you‘re very concerned about them

Group of kids who all talk about watching Naruto and Marvel movies in the company of each other; they seem PIMO, but they’re so unafraid about their spiritistic tastes that you can’t tell

Witness family who thinks all modern-day media is demonic, and only watches, reads, and listens to old stuff; the whole family seems like they’re suicidal; there’s definitely more abuse going on than meets the eye

The ten-year-old unbaptized publisher who admits to staying up all night on their tablet because they can never get to sleep before 1:00 AM, but gets nervous when you ask what they were doing on said tablet; probably browses gore websites and reads about methods of torture to feel something and/or reading My Book of Bible Stories got them into it

[the-ace-with-spades]

just wanted to say i would 100% read any hangster omegaverse you write there is not enough of it out there tbh. and also like truly whatever combo/dynamic you feel would be amazing but i would frankly die for some omega bradley cause i never see people take that route and it's such an interesting take on his character to me BUT ANYWAY like i said follow your heart and i'm sure it would be glorious if you do decide to write it

Hi! Thank you for the ask, I'm absolutely flattered ✨ I'm also happy to say that my cliche omega Bradley/alpha Jake mpreg fic has been planned out already - hope you don't mind me using this ask to ramble about it a bit 👉👈

As for the dynamics, we're going with:

omega Bradley and alpha Jake

alpha Mav and alpha Ice

(only mentioned but ) omega Goose and alpha Carole

so Bradley was raised mostly by alphas

omega Phoenix, beta Bob, beta Coyote

scent-wise, they're both on suppressants the majority of the time but when they aren't, they both smell like fuel and dust (Bradley loses it when he stops flying), but Jake's natural scent is dry, earthy one, kinda like straw and hot air on a sweaty day, and Bradley's is honey and vanilla/cinnamon; Mav smells like leather and jet fuel and Ice like cool mint and old paper

Not sure whether this is going to be written in my typical non-linear scene format (alternating past & present povs) just because I'm aiming to try and fit in 40-50k but the backstory/premise/whatever is well, this:

Bradley's experience growing up as a male omega was different than what most expected — most of his family didn't care about what the society said about designations and what was proper and what not. He was very much a stereotypical 'sensitive/soft' omega but he never thought that would hold him back, he literally was taught he could be anything and anyone he wanted. His mom was an alpha that choose to stay home, his dad was one of the first omegas allowed into combat, and after they both passed away, he was taken in by Mav and Ice, two alphas that by society's standards couldn't work out together, but did so better than most couples, and who tried to raise him to be his own person, not a designation. So he had plenty of ‘unconventional’ examples as a child.

That's why it hurt it so much when Mav said he wasn't ready and pulled his papers — it's like all he was taught about being whoever he wanted to be was a lie. Obviously, Bradley reacted by shaming himself out of being soft (to the outside world anyway).

Bradley and Jake met in flight school. They were only supposed to be something out of convenience, to spend heats and ruts together and nothing else. But then they were placed in the same squad after training and things continued and escalated and before they knew it, they were living together, they were each other's emergency contacts, they were each other's official heat/rut partners, on paper.

Jake'd never made him feel like any less because he was an omega and never doubted he was competent enough to be where he was in life — he was an asshole to him the say way he was to others, which was better than being undermined or coddled. Bradley felt like maybe he wasn't confident enough to be himself without care, yet, around Jake, but one day he would.

It was an unspoken thing on base — Bradley was Jake's omega and vice versa.  Unspoken because despite eight years together, they never bonded.

Bradley still has issues, about being an omega, that mostly strive from Mav's you aren't ready and the general opinions about omegas in the Navy. He was okay without all the usual stuff omegas wanted from alphas — couldn't be scented much because of scent neutralisers and suppressants he had to wear at work, couldn't make nests since they spend a lot of their time on deployments or trainings away on different bases and ships, he liked touch but it was both unprofessional at work and very omegian of Bradley at group outings (and he didn’t want the guys he worked with to think too much about him being an omega). 

At home, behind closed doors and in their own bubble, Jake didn't have a problem with giving him those things — what Bradley asked for, he got. Affection, nests, scenting, praises. In private, Jake never hesitated to fulfil whatever stereotypically omegian thing Bradley wanted and never held it against him. Jake’s family didn’t know about them, but given that Bradley wasn’t ready for bonding, that was probably for the best — he knew people could be nosy about when will you get bonded or married, when will you have kids, should you keep working in the Navy after bonding, etc. It bothered him a bit, especially when he had to leave their place and stay with Nat whenever Jake’s family showed up in town or stayed alone over holidays, but well, he never asked Jake for any of it to change and Jake never made the first move.

So Bradley hoped he wouldn't mind giving it all to him when Bradley finally did ask for it.

Then they just came back from deployment, after months on heavy duty suppressants, and his heat and Jake's rut synced up — something that happens only after bonding or after big big stressors — and then he found out he was pregnant.

He took a few to process everything and decided that he wanted it more than he was afraid of how it’d change their life and how people would see him, and he was going to ask for more from Jake and tell him.

Then he comes home and his nest is dismantled and Jake’s got two cans of scent neutralizer on the kitchen table and the first thing he tells Bradley is, “My sister is visiting for a week, gotta be fast because she’s going to be here tomorrow.” And Bradley isn’t so sure anymore.

(probably not the actual dialogue but the gist of what happens) "It's just going to be a few days and everything will go back to normal." "What if I don't want it to go back to normal?" “Look, you’re not exactly the type my family expects—” “So, how do you see us, in the future? Do you not want to get bonded, get married or—or have kids? Or are we just going to do all those things while sneaking around your family forever?” "We have a good thing, why change it? It’d all just be so inconvenient with our lives—”

And Bradley makes a decision again. Packs his stuff, tells him he isn’t comining back and leaves. He was fine alone, he’ll be fine alone again. He just needs some help first.

(gonna get short now, just not to spoil too much) Bradley goes to the only person he can think of — Ice. He moves in with Mav and Ice for the time being, things are awkward so Mav moves out to the hangar and Ice schemes so his two dumbasses talk and they forgive each other.

Fast forward, he’s six months in and the Top Gun recall happens, Bradley is currently Cyclone’s flag lieutenant, and ThingsTM hit the fan.

Scenes the dialogue is written down for (no promises on actual inclusion in the fic):

Jake being a dumbass and calling Bradley fat the minute they see each other in San Diego

The snow scene from the mission but with Mav and Jake arguing about who needs to come back home more

The beach scene with Bradley sitting around with Penny on the patio, drinking mocktails and being thirsty (the other kind)

Jake finally telling his mom

Bradley and Mav getting tricked into going to a doc appointment together (by Ice)

Bradley teaching (or ordering him around, more like) Jake how to do the flooring in the nursery while he sits on a bean bag and eats a whole box of strawberries

It's gonna be a while before I post the first chapter because I want to have at least dialogue written for the whole thing and will shuffle around scenes and plot points, but it's coming!

Thank you to you, anon, and to anyone who helped me figure out some stuff about this au fic 💙