#seriously I had to filter out so much train talk

[invisiblewashboard]

Small Child’s Thoughts on “Helm’s Deep”

Sounds like there are way too many bad guys.

Are they happy because the king is there? Hm. Because the king will help them fight the bad guys? I feel happy when my dad comes home because he helps me fight my sisters.

I think you should maybe not listen to someone named Wormtongue. But maybe it’s not his fault that he’s named that. Maybe his mom and dad just didn’t like him.

Mom, can I have a horn to make horn blasts with? (No.) But I would only use for good things, like to tell you if there was danger!

The van? If they have vans they can have trains. (No, no, Small Child, that means “vanguard.”) Hm. That is boring. They should have a van instead.

Gimli wants to kill lots of orcs and that is very good. I like that.

Hundreds and hundreds more bad guys is not a good thing.

Lightning plus bad guys is going to equal a very bad time for everyone.

I just do not really know what is happening. You are reading lots of words but I am confused. I only know there are orcs and lightning.

Why did Legolas spend all his arrows? (Because that’s what happens in a battle.) Well, he should have just brought more with him.

I tried to jump off a wall once. And you told me it was bad. But Gimli did it and you said it was good.

Wow! 21 is a lot of orcs! Good job, Gimli. You’re doing very good work!

Two dozen? (A dozen is 12, so how many is two dozen?) Oh, I see. 24! Legolas is winning now. Who is going to get more points? I do not want to wait to find out, I would just like you to tell me now. (Just be patient! You will find out soon enough.)

How many orcs did Aragorn kill? (I don’t know, I don’t think he is playing the game with Legolas and Gimli.) Why? He should play and not ruin the fun.

So, Mama? Blasting fire is like a bomb, right? Like a big explosion? I think if they have that, they can maybe have trains soon. Trains would make things easier because they could go places fast.

Saying his spear was long seems just so unnecessary. Spears are long. That is why they are spears and not just little stumpy stabbers.

Is that Gandalf the White Rider? Good. I think things will be okay now if he is here.

Hey Mom? You told me that if I was patient I would find out who got more points. But you stopped reading and I still do not know.

[marlynnofmany]

The Mechanic’s Burden

I pushed my way into the engine room with a tray of food, wondering what was keeping Mimi from his meals this time. He was a dedicated sort, taking his job as spaceship mechanic seriously, and sometimes that meant long hours grumbling in the guts of the ship.

“Dinner!” I called. There was no sign of green tentacles among the viewscreens of the main room, and I didn’t feel like guessing which passageway he’d gone down.

“Thanks,” grated Mimi’s rough voice from somewhere to the right. “Up here.”

I followed the sound of someone rummaging through a toolbox to find Mimi perched on top of one pipe among many, in front of an open electrical panel. Wires were everywhere, most held aside with twist ties to bare the problem area. Mimi clutched tools in many tentacles. He was the very picture of an annoyed octopus digging through his toolbox for more. I wasn’t sure which pipes he’d climbed to get there, dragging the toolbox up to what was head height on me.

“Hi,” I said. “Where do you want it?” There wasn’t space for the tray on the curving pipes next to him.

“Eh, over there.” Mimi gestured with a mini-welder toward a mostly flat surface on a bit of engine housing at knee level. “I’ll get to it eventually.”

I set it down. “Hopefully you can take a break soon. This is pretty tasty: roast fursqueak from Zhee’s planet with some kind of Frillian shrimp sauce.”

“Hm,” Mimi said absently.

“The sauce is a good one, though it’s a flavor that kinda sticks with you.”

“Uh-huh.”

I dug in my pocket for a stick of gum, deciding that I’d rather not have that particular flavor follow me around for the rest of the night. Mimi was likely too distracted to care, but it was only polite to offer him one. “Want some gum for after you eat? It’s peppermint flavor.” (We’d already had the “this is food you don’t swallow” talk, so it was all down to taste. Not everybody onboard liked mint.)

“That’s the one that tastes cold, right? No thanks.” Mimi shoved the tools around a bit more, then heaved a deep sigh that made him seem to deflate.

I moved closer for a better look, trying not too breathe to much mint at him. “What’s the problem?” I could see a wire sticking out of the mess, with the covering stripped off the end and the fibers twisted flat.

“A stupid one,” Mimi said. He started putting tools back in the box. “It took me all day to track down where the disconnect was, and it turned out to be just one single loose wire. Can’t believe how much time I wasted checking everything else.”

I considered before speaking. “You know you can ask for help, right? Not everybody’s busy today. You don’t have to do it all by yourself.”

Mimi waved a tentacle instead of shaking his head-body. “It’d take longer to train someone else than to just do it myself.”

“You sure?” I pressed. “They wouldn’t have to know everything to be an extra set of hands. Or tentacles.”

“There’s a lot to know,” Mimi said. “Even this loose wire takes a delicate touch to weld back in place. You’ve got to put the welder on just the right setting, secure the wire but not get your flesh too close, and watch through a filter so you don’t hurt your eyes.”

“Yeah, sounds like welding to me,” I agreed. “Do you have a welding mask?” I didn’t see anything that looked like a face shield, or even sunglasses. Not that those would fit his cephalopod head anyway.

“A small filter is fine for this scale,” Mimi said, holding up a dark paddle-shaped thing. “The mini-welders don’t throw sparks.”

I realized that he had enough tentacles that he could hold a thing in front of his face and still be able to work. No need for goggles strapped to his head. Must be handy.

He was still talking, warming to the subject. “Now while I could train somebody else to weld effectively, I don’t want to risk she ship’s integrity on a rookie. I also don’t want to send anyone to Eggskin with burnt extremities because they tried to hold the wire in place without fastening gel.”

I peered over the edge of the toolbox. “Can you hold it with pliers?”

“This mess doesn’t leave much space for pliers,” Mimi said, pointing a tentacle tip at the nest of wires. At the depths of all those, I could see the spot where the stray wire was meant to go. I could probably get a hand in there. But yeah, pliers and the welder both wouldn’t make it easy to see what you were doing.

Mimi said, “Now I could disconnect a couple sections, but I’ve wasted enough time already. I’d rather just stick it, weld it, and be done. But of course I already used all the gel in this box.” He gave the toolbox an irritated rap with the welder.

“Want me to go get you some?” I asked. “Where is it?”

“Ah, that would take too long to explain. I’ll just go grab it myself.”

“Wait. What about—” I took out my gum, wrapped it around the covered part of the wire, then reached in with fingertips and stuck it against the other end. “—That? Did I get it placed right?”

Mimi was quiet for long enough that I started to worry that gum was bad for wire casing, or was somehow explosive around alien welding tech. I probably should have asked first.

But then he raised the welder without a word, and held the viewing filter in place. I looked away while the welder glowed and fizzed.

“Done.”

I turned back to find him putting the tools away.

“Did it work?”

“Yes. Thank you.”

“Hooray!” I grinned. “Want me to peel the gum back off, or is the area still hot?”

More negating tentacle waves. “No, definitely too hot. I’ll get it after I eat.”

“Okay. Can I at least take this down for you?” I lifted the toolbox.

Mimi sighed. “Sure. Thank you.” He climbed down the pipes, suction cups popping quietly. That would have definitely been hard to do with the toolbox.

“You know,” I said, putting it down near his food, “Even Eggskin isn’t the only person on board who knows basic first aid. If they got hurt, we wouldn’t be panicking because they’re our only medic. You’d probably be doing your job even better if you made sure at least a couple other crewmembers could do basic troubleshooting.”

Mimi settled into place beside the tray, looking like he was trying not to sigh again. “You make a good point,” he admitted. “But I get pebbleskin just thinking about Blip and Blop rushing to adjust a loose rod, and jamming something that would cause a cascading failure.”

“Well yeah, you’d want to be careful who you entrust with what task,” I said. “But they’d be great at moving heavy things, like those panel covers you had to take off before.”

Mur scooped up a mouthful of food. “They probably would. As long as they follow directions and don’t touch anything else.”

“I’m sure they can do that!” I smiled. “If you need any wires cut or packages opened, Zhee and Trrili will be happy to do precise violence with their pincher arms. I can reach things up high, and…”

“And Paint would make a good heat sink, snuggling against overheated components,” Mimi said. “That’s occurred to me before.”

I laughed. “She’d probably love that. Who needs a heat shawl or other coldblooded accessories when you can take a nap in the engine?”

“She’d do it, too.” Mimi scooped up more food. “But no letting your cat in here. I know that animal likes warm things as well, and it would make the overheating worse.”

“You are absolutely right. No cats in the engine room.” I nodded. “Just crewmates.”

Mimi waved a tentacle and mumbled something about writing up a list of training possibilities after he ate. I left him to it, wishing him a good meal, then leaving with my minty gum and a quiet smile of triumph.

~~~

These are the ongoing backstory adventures of the main character from this book.

Shared early on Patreon! There’s even a free tier to get them on the same day as the rest of the world.

The sequel novel is in progress (and will include characters from these stories. I hadn’t thought all of them up when I wrote the first book, but they’re too much fun to leave out of the second).

[atarathegreat]

Really?! Makoto Suzuki

"No way."

"What the hell am I looking at?"

"Is Makoto talking to a girl...and she's not running away?"

Even Akkun couldn't believe it, though he didn't say anything. He wanted to be supportive of his friend's new crush or whatever it was. But seriously, was she holding his hand? She had to have known what he used that hand for, right?

They all tried to hide their disbelief as Makoto and the girl approached. She wore a cute little apron with the name of the plant shop next to them. So not only did she have a real job, but she was cute and she was interested in Makoto? What type of side world had they all stepped into? Akkun looked over at Takemichi and reached out to get his attention, "What the hell am I seeing?" Yet he was asking the wrong person as Takemichi shrugged and shook his head.

"Guys, this is Y/n." Makoto looked proud as he showed off the girl next to him. Everyone's eyes were trained on where she was holding Makoto's hand, fingers locked together and she was smiling. No girl smiled if she had to hold Makoto's right hand.

"She knows what she's holding, rig- OOF!" Akkun elbowed Yamagishi before he could finish his question. "He means hello." Akkun smiled at the girl, "He's just awful at social interaction."

"Well, hello to you, too." Her smile was big, pretty. There was no doubt as to why Makoto liked her. Pretty smile, beautiful eyes, hair that Akkun wouldn't mind styling. And there was no way she couldn't pull off the work uniform, it could be inside out and backward and she'd be making a fashion statement. Makoto could see it, too. When he usually looked at girls it was as if they were candy in the candy store. But with this girl, Makoto looked at her as if she was dew in the morning on grass or the sunlight that filtered through the trees in the late afternoon. She was magic to this little peasant boy and the village was experiencing it all for the first time.

She giggled. Giggled! Someone this cute was holding hands with Makoto?

"I'm Makoto's girlfriend."

Takemichi and Yamagishi immediately hit the floor, leaving Akkun and Takuya to smile and act as if nothing had happened. Magic was always unpredictable. And those two were always morons.

"And we're just now finding out?!" Yamagishi sounded almost offended as he circled the young couple. He inspected the way they held hands, how close they stood together, even if she was breathing heavily. This had to be a hostage situation, or she was lying. "How much did he pay you to say that? I'll double it for you to tell the truth."

Y/n chuckled and it was the prettiest sound, reminding the boys of the wind chimes they hit as they left school. She was... Well, nearly perfect. There was that flaw in her eyesight. "I am his girlfriend!" Her insistence was adorable, "We've been together for a week!"

"No way!" Takemichi's jaw dropped, "A week?! I don't believe it!"

Huffy and puffing up her already well endowed chest, Y/n turned and gave Makoto a kiss on the cheek, "I have to get back. My breaks over. You still walking me home?"

"Yeah, I'll be back around then." Makoto's tan cheeks turned pink as she walked away.

But he was quick to turn on his friends. "Do none of you know how to be happy for me? Are you trying to make her think something is wrong with me?"

"Something is wrong with you." Yamagishi rolled his eyes.

[double-0h-no]

A retired Spy walks into a Bar

I think a lot about how all those spy movies treat the honeypot schemes like the magical solution to all social problems, but let's be real, we know it wouldn't always work like that. And I think, so does James, and if he's good at something, it's calculating probabilities and likely outcomes at the back of his head.

Oh, right, this is my prompt fill for 300 words. Inspiration didn't want to cooperate with the combination of two prompts, so instead of whacking myself over the head for it, I took on the lesser evil and try again tomorrow.

on ao3

After he retired from active duty, Bond as taken on training some boffins to become handlers.

"How much do I look like her father for you to think I can make this work?", Bond asked, and the entire room sniggered. "No, seriously, unless I'm a carbon copy of her father, I don't think she'd consider talking to me. She's a black woman in her early twenties, I'm a white man in my fifties, she doesn't know me at all. Bravado aside, we all know my chances, no matter charisma. Unless she's taking a very literal fuck the patriarchy approach to life, I don't think I have a chance.

"So, either present me with evidence to the contrary, or an alternative."

The boffin in question had blushed a fetching scarlet, but was right back on task, pulling up social media accounts and filtering for hashtags and key words at an impressive speed. That was followed by a quick scan of her phone contacts, the people she'd texted the most, and the boffin started narrating: "So she doesn't seem to be seeing anyone, but she's working the bar at a place called - I'm not gonna try that." The boffin let the computer voice pronounce the German name and Bond had to smirk. Good way to work around it, if they were on comms.

"There, she has to be nice to you. Let me check -"

Getting surveillance footage in German cities sucked severely, Bond knew by now, because there was very little of it. "All right, I don't know the clientele, so I don't know whether you'd fit in, but I think our time plan would allow for you to stake it out, no?"

Bond nodded slowly, face all serious and professional.

"For the sake of this exercise, let's say I wouldn't. What now?"

The boffin took a deep breath, and returned to the screens. "Alright. Let's dig deeper."

[jazzythursday]

Hi!

Your writing is so beautiful! Your characterizations of Wylan and Jesper are incredible in your oneshots and especially in Everyday, Just a Little or a Little Bit. Seriously, I think about that fic all the time. It's perfect. Sweet and angsty, domestic and wholesome. Are you interested in writing more for Wesper? Do you have any more ideas or WIPs that you'd like to write?

-sixofcrowdaydreams

I’m crying? This is incredibly sweet thank you so much 🥹💖

Wesper and the crows literally got me through the last year and are still my main source of serotonin atm so I promise I’m not even close to done writing about them yet!

I also think about Everyday… every day lol, I really do. I have a handful of offshoots and bonus scenes from that fic I still want to write/finish (Jesper’s pov of a few moments, his talk with Nina after Wylan leaves in ch3, so much with the bookseller from ch1 etc), along with a few wips and a giant list of ideas I haven’t even started.

Currently I’m working on my gift for an exchange we have going over on the @i-can-read-to-him server (which is becoming both incredibly stressful but also so so exciting with every scene I write) I wish I could talk about it but it’s a surprise™️ for the moment. It will hopefully be ready to start posting next week!

Until then, here's a snippet from one of the bonus scenes in Everyday. It's from the part in ch2 where Jesper comes back to the Slat after being jumped by debt collectors. (Fun fact: the original scene was supposed to be this version, but when I actually went to write it it was feeling too clunky with the rest of the chapter, so I changed it to the posted version)

Wylan wakes up alone one morning. 

He knows, immediately, that something is wrong. The only disturbance of the covers has been made by himself; the other side of the bed is untouched, except for where his hand had landed on Jesper's pillow during the night. The rest is left unruffled and empty.

He hadn’t come back.  Jesper had been sent on a job the night before that hadn’t needed a demo man. Wylan told him he’d wait up, and Jesper told him he didn’t need to. Wylan had planned to wait up anyway. 

Apparently, it hadn’t worked. Wylan does not remember falling asleep, and yet it’s undeniably morning now. Still early enough that the sun isn’t quite peeking through the curtains, but he can tell it will soon.

He tries not to get worked up. He gets worked up anyway. No matter how much he tries to rationalise it, there is a deep pit growing in his stomach, convincing him that something is very wrong. He gets out of bed and leaves the room. He doesn’t bother with boots, just creeps down the hall in his socks.  It doesn’t take long to hear voices. They filter out from Kaz’s office, freezing Wylan in place.  “You still might need a medik,” he hears—Nina’s voice. She sounds tired. “How many times do I have to tell you two I wasn’t trained for proper healing?” 

“You're doing fine.” Jesper. Jesper’s voice. He sounds… dim is the only way Wylan can think to describe it. Tinny. Like the rich, mellow timbre of his words have been syphoned off into something thinner. He coughs wetly. “Gold stars all around Neens, really.” 

“I’m not above knocking you out, you know,” Nina says, but even without being in the room he can tell there’s no real threat in it. It’s soft, fond, and concerned.

Wylan’s heart feels like it’s detached from his chest. Like it’s somewhere else entirely, and wherever that is, someones squeezing it very tightly. He walks closer, almost hovering outside the threshold. He places a hand on the knob. 

It’s been a very long time since Wylan has felt out of place with the Crows, but as he opens the office door, he cannot help but feel—not unwelcome, but uninvited, and left out of the loop.

Unnecessary, his mind supplies, and he tries very, very hard not to give it a chance to amend, worthless. 

He balls up the cuffs of his shirt—it’s one of Jesper’s, though Wylan can’t remember when he’d taken it up as his own. Long enough that it doesn’t smell like Jesper anymore, just Wylan, which is a tragedy—and casts a look around the room, feeling awkward and out of place and comparatively underdressed in only his sleep clothes and socks. 

Kaz looks as he always does, except worse. His hair is falling uncharacteristically messy over his face. He turns sharply from where he’d been facing the window when Wylan enters, eyes even darker than usual.

Nina looks worried, a deep weighty frown on her face as her hands press against Jesper’s abdomen. 

And Jesper looks— 

“What happened?” Wylan balks.  Everyone is staring at him now, and Wylan hates it, hates this, but it all pales in comparison to the awful feeling tearing itself through his chest at the sight of Jesper, Jesper’s face—

“Jes—” Wylan’s voice breaks.  

“I’m fine,” Jesper assures quickly. Nina scoffs. She takes her hands away from Jesper’s stomach to cross them over her chest. “I’ll be fine. I’ll be fine!”

“You’ll be fine when I say you’ll be fine,” Nina mutters.  

Jesper tries to smile at Wylan, tries to give him a surreptitious thumbs up with the hand farthest from Nina, tries to wink of all things. It doesn’t make Wylan feel any better. It also looks like it hurts, because both Jesper’s eyes are puffy and red, and the side of his face sports an angry mark that’s still bleeding sluggishly from his eyebrow. His jaw looks sort of swollen too, and he grimaces at his own smile, so it must hurt.

Looking at it makes Wylan want to cry, so instead he looks at Kaz. 

“What happened?” he asks again, very quietly. 

“Debt collectors. And an idiot.”

“Kaz!” Jesper protests. Kaz shoots him a glare that pierces slightly duller than usual, which makes Wylan worry even more. “It’s not as bad as it looks.” Jesper tries again. 

Wylan doesn’t respond. He keeps looking at Kaz. 

Kaz sighs. He sweeps his hair back in its usual style and pushes up from the window. “He’ll be fine. It’s not good, but nothing with debt collectors ever is. I’m working on it.”

This ask was such a lovely thing to read on a very tough day, so again, ty 🥰

[rotationalsymmetry]

Someone I know, who was in a position of significant institutional authority, quoted Audrey Lorde, "we were never meant to survive", and said of herself and the other people running said institution, "we were certainly never meant to be put in charge of anything."

I think Legend of Korra needs to be understood through that lens.

It messes up an individual's life when they have a period of time when they know they're likely to not be alive at the same time next year. Especially when it's years and years like that. It interferes with long term planning, with figuring out who you are and what matters to you, with figuring out what you want or even that you are allowed to want things.

And when someone has had that experience and is put in a position of authority, it ...makes things harder.

You know Ozai wasn't seriously preparing Zuko to succede him. And to the extent that some training filtered through anyways, you know Zuko doesn't want to rule the same way Ozai did, so what's his model to follow? Iroh's? I'm sure Iroh was both highly competent and thoroughly trained, but he didn't seriously expect Zuko to ever return from exile, let alone rule. Plus, he was going through his own shit, during the three or four years he was close to Zuko.

Zuko was never meant to survive, and he certainly was not meant to end up in charge of anything.

And same for Katara and Sokka and Toph, with some caveats -- Katara and Sokka's family and tribe very much wanted them to live, but didn't have the resources and ability to raise them the way they wanted to, because they were fighting a war that they were losing very, very badly. Toph was meant to survive -- as the helpless, quiet, well-behaved girl her parents thought she was. Not as she actually was.

So these people grow up and get into positions of power and raise families, and the whole intergenerational trauma thing kicks in because they hadn't been preparing to be in power and they didn't have teachers and mentors for the most part and because also they were at least in some cases trying to do things in a way that they didn't have a roadmap for.

As far as we know, Aang and Katara knew literally no one older than them in an intercultural relationship. They had to figure it out themselves, with Aang having none of his people to go to for advice outside of his own past lives and Katara having a father who was gone for most of her childhood and no mother.

And this is talked about in ATLA! That whole thing in Season 3 when Katata is so mad at her father even though she knows it's not really his fault and he was just doing the best he could under the circumstances, the circumstances being a defensive war that they were losing. (And ATLA does not go into what that might have been like for Hakoda, looking into his daughter's eyes and seeing his lost wife.) The theme of "sometimes kids get fucked up related to things a parent did even when the parent was doing their best under very adversarial conditions" is right there in ATLA.

So yeah, the world the Gaang leads and the families they raise have some problems. That's what happens when you have fallible people doing things under imperfect conditions. It's not inconsistent writing ffs.

If you can't have compassion for both the ATLA generation and their kids, while accepting LOK canon, that's a skill issue.

[apprehensiveacorn]

Guys, I’ve written a thingie for my warrior cats au. Hell is deep and hot as creation.

Anyways, I tried writing it in past tense like the books are, but I think I’d actually kill someone if I had to do that, so present tense it is! Like, seriously, someone could hold a gun to my head and say “write your fic in past tense” and I’d literally shoot myself, with my own gun. That is how great my shame is, here

ANYWHO X2, I wrote an Owen & Rasbi interaction! Meetin’ at the border at midnight to talk w/ your homeboy abt life and stuff, sweet sweet fluff, no angst here!

My secret past as a Warrior Cats kid is being revealed. I used to write so much fucking warrior cats, y’all have no idea. I was OBSESSED

Names

Owen - Fernspark

Rasbi - Monarchwing

Apo - Minnowbark (Mentioned)

Quick Rundown

Lake territories <3

Leaf-bare is the cat word for Winter

Moon is the cat word for month

Starclan is Cat Heaven

Halfclan relationships? BAD

Close halfclan friendships? BAD

Halfclan kits in your clan? OSTRACIZE THEM

Words: 1,356

Holemabier - The Arcadian Wild

Fernspark, carefully, noses along Thunderclan’s river border, watching the trees for any sight of his friend. He’s careful with his paws, and makes sure his tail isn’t brushing against the ground and making a racket. The soft moonlight filters down from the sky, streaming through trees and falling freely on the moors. He can see his breath in the late leaf-bare air.

In an arbitrary spot, a spot that would rise no alarm to any other cat, he crosses a shallow portion of the river, as quick as his paws can take him. On the other side, he shakes himself off, staring at his soaked paws in distaste.

The purr Monarchwing starts up at his misery is as loud as thunder, the cat padding out from a thicker bush, her movements mildly disturbing the thinner layer of snow resting on top.

“The river fun this moon?” They tease, giving a friendly touch of their nose to Fernspark’s cheek.

Playfully, Fernspark bares his teeth, lazily swiping at her shoulder with sheathed claws. The Thunderclan warrior escapes his reach fast, stepping away to bare her own teeth in jest as well. “I feel like I’ve fought one too many wars to get caught so easy by a Windclan cat,” she goads, tail waving lazily, fur flat and still keeping up that steady purr. Unthreatened, not angry.

Exasperated, Fernspark tries to groom his wet fur, a low purr in his chest as he grumbles, “If I get sick because of this, Monarchwing, and I happen to die first, I’m going to haunt you in Starclan.”

“Oh, no,” Monarchwing dispairs, “What would I do without you bothering me?”

“Oh, that’s it.” Fernspark pounces on them, playfully bowling them over into the forest, starting a play fight, as if they were two apprentices having fun after a long day of training. As Fernspark nips and backs away and steps over foliage, he is reminded that, under normal circumstances—if Windclan and Thunderclan had never been at war—he, as a Windclan cat, would be tripping over vines and breaking sticks and running through thorn bushes, because in no world should a cat who lives in the moors be so comfortable with playing in the forest, and in no world should a cat who lives in the forest be so good at avoiding rabbit burrows and messing with tunnels, unless they had to, for one reason or another. He shouldn’t be good at this. But there was a war.

It ends when Monarchwing gets Fernspark on his back. Fernspark had been backed against a tree, and he almost turned and tried to climb, before he forced himself still, because this was not a real battle, just a mock one.

“I concede,” He breathes, tail tip twitching happily.

“I win,” Monarchwing sing-songs, stepping off of him to groom her snow-covered fur, leaf-bare thick as it is. Fernspark got to his feet and shook himself off, tapping his tail tip against Monarchwing’s flank playfully.

Thankfully, they’d had the mind to keep their tussle confined, and quiet.

“You seem to like fighting,” she said, randomly, out of the blue. Not unkindly, and with a caring tone to their voice, almost teasing.

“Not really, and not as much as my father did,” Fernspark sighs, giving up with himself and starting to help Monarchwing with her fur. He swears he pulls a twig or something out of it every time they meet.

He has to admit, it’s almost refreshing to have someone talk about his father. His clanmates don’t mention the old leader around Fernspark, much less try to insinuate they’re similar, not after Fernspark had gotten tired of it and shouted at them.

He didn’t like yelling much. Despite his father's bloodlust, he hadn’t either.

The sting there is still at home, when he thinks of the cat his father had been, but it is less painful, a little more fond now that there is no more blood spilt in the old leader’s name.

When Monarchwing is content enough with their fur, they touch their nose to Fernspark’s shoulder, leading them under a cloistered group of bushes, where the ground is cold and free of the thin layer of snow fallen around the lake, where they curl up together like kits in a nursery. And secretly, Fernspark thinks that, if his actual sister had survived long after birth, she’d be a little like Monarchwing.

“Should our next meeting be near the outer edge of our territories?” Fernspark asks. “Or should we go by the lake, so Minnowbark can join.”

“Hmm,” Monarchwing contemplates, resting their jaw on Fernspark’s flank. “Yeah, I’d— I’d like to hang out with Minnowbark next time. We could speak with him next gathering to let him know.”

“Yeah. Usual spot by the lake, then?”

Their usual spot by the lake was a sheltered spot of sand in Thunderclan territory, only safe to stay dry in during low tide. It would be warmer next time the three meet, so it’d work. No snow, at least.

Monarchwing nods, “Yeah.”

Suddenly, after a moment of silence, Monarchwing says, tail twitching anxiously, “I feel like… I feel like Aldercloud is hiding something from me.”

Fernspark blinks. “Really? Your sister?”

“I— yeah. I’m trying not to pry but I—... I’m real worried for her, you know? She’s jumpy and scared and,” she barely stops to breathe as she rambles, “she just, isn’t like that. I am, I guess, but she’s never been.”

Fernspark’s tail twitches apprehensively. “I’d be worried, too,” he says. “But I’m sure she’ll be okay. She can take care of herself, can’t she? Maybe you should have a little more faith in her.”

“Maybe, yeah,” the Thunderclan warrior concedes. “I’m still worried, though.”

Fernspark takes a moment to think, watching as his breath mists over. “Try to help her, but don’t push too hard if she doesn’t actually need it, maybe?” he offers.

Monarchwing, after a moment of hesitation, nods, relaxing only a bit. Fernspark isn’t surprised, Monarchwing always worries. He’s content to bask in the silence, starting to groom his friend’s fur comfortingly.

He tries to keep track of how long they’ve been here, starting to worry about returning to their respective camps. It can wait a little longer, though, for just a little more time with one of his best friends.

Monarchwing buries her cold nose into Fernspark’s leaf-bare coat. “Thanks,” they mumble, eyes starting to, inexplicably, droop.

Fernspark whacks them with his tail to wake them up, purring as she jolts. “No problem,” is what he says in reply.

Normally, friendships between cats of different clans are restricted to passing moments at gatherings or border patrols, and in the beginning, Fernspark had meant to keep it that way. But after spending so long knowing Monarchwing and Minnowbark, he realized how much he trusted them. He realized how much he enjoyed their presence, their words, their reassurance, and one day he’d asked to meet Minnowbark by the border one day, because Minnowbark had been hurt and Fernspark had been worried, and Minnowbark had agreed, and had actually been there.

He had realized it was an option.

And really, they weren’t exchanging secrets.

Still, they know what they've gotten themselves into. All three of them. It’s worth it, to them.

So when they finally have to leave, Fernspark crosses the same stretch of river he came from, hopping into his old pawsteps and continuing on, downwards towards the lake, now in hunt, carrying through the large, looping pattern he’d started when he embarked.

And Monarchwing walks back and forth, dragging their tail across the snow, overwhelming Fernspark’s Windclan scent with her own Thunderclan one as much as possible, mildly reinforcing the boundary markers around their hangout. And he knows that, as they have agreed, she’ll hunt for however long it takes to bury a few pieces of prey somewhere Fernspark has stood, to not make Monarchwing’s extended presence suspicious.

And, it’s always the night after the half moon, so if all else fails, the scent of Windclan on Thunderclan’s border could be written off as the medicine cats, goofing around, and taking a second to talk.

[wandaluvstacos]

THE ONLY SECONDS THAT MATTER

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE IS UP!

Genre: Contemporary Romance Rating: 18+

Includes: Extensive horse nerdery + cowboys, mxm romance (1 trans + 1 cis), some discussion child abuse, some instances of trans/homophobia (it is rural Oklahoma, y'all), depression, occasional sex scene (but it’s a slow burn for sure)

Victor Ortiz-Bennett had some reservations about moving to Oklahoma, but his late aunt willed him a 70-acre horse farm, and he decides to fulfill his dream of running and operating his own training facility. Victor’s been around the reining horse show circuit for a while, and he’s ready to settle down, travel less, and spend more time with the horses he loves and away from the people he can do without. That is, until he picks up a horse at an auction with a bucking problem he can’t fix, and he has to take her to the one guy who can ride anything– Johnny Stearns, a retired professional rodeo rider.

Johnny Stearns is loud, chatty, eccentric, and fears nothing, exactly Victor’s opposite. However, Victor finds himself sinking into an odd friendship with this new foul-mouthed cowboy without a filter, diving deeper into the mess that is Johnny’s life until there’s no way to extract himself from it. Johnny may talk a tough game, but there’s more to him than he’ll let most people see. Victor knows getting in too deep will mean a rough ride, but if there’s anything Johnny’s taught him, it’s how to stay in the saddle.

Excerpt:

“Sarah,” he began with a puffed up chest. But then he deflated slightly as he slumped and fell silent. “Uh.”

“Yeah?” Sarah took a long toke of her cigarette and watched him with expectant eyes.

“I am bisexual,” Johnny forced out much louder than it probably needed to be.

Sarah had no reaction to the news beyond a slow smile. “Damn, took you long enough.”

“You already knew?”

“I’ve always wondered since high school. You remember that senior Logan you were obsessed about? You were always talkin’ about fuckin’ Logan like he was your boyfriend, and at most you hung out like five times.”

“Logan?” Johnny paused to think. “Oh right, that guy.”

“I think he’s in jail now for armed robbery.” She shrugged. “Smoked too much meth.”

“Seriously?”

“You didn’t know?”

“I haven’t thought about him in a long time.”

Sarah snickered and kicked the leg of the nearby lawn chair with a foot. “Sit your ass down. I got some questions.”

Johnny collapsed into a chair like a puppet with cut strings. Victor also sat, trying to keep a smile at bay. Johnny coming out shouldn’t have brought him such joy, but it felt good for it to be out in the world beyond what existed between the two of them.

“How long have you known you’re bi?” Sarah asked.

“Since puberty, I guess.”

“And you ain’t ever tell me?”

“My daddy called me a faggot like once a week, so no.”

Sarah’s smile faded and her faced looked pinched with disgust as she sucked on her cigarette again. “I aint’ happy about how he died, but I’m glad he’s dead, no offense.”

Johnny said nothing, only stared at the fire with that blank expression that he tended to wear whenever he talked about his father.

“So what about after you left from home? What then? You do anythin’ with anybody?”

[sallymae32]

Story that 3 people wanted to see: From Rags to royalty

Rae Meadows was from a small island called Esmard Cay, a place not too far away from Yami. They often went fishing together, which ended up washing them up on the beach of the Clover Kingdom. She was short, but her emerald green eyes were only made brighter by her waist-length pitch-black hair. She may have been chubby, but she still had curves in all the right places. She was known for having no filter, being sarcastic, and speaking her mind. She wasn’t concerned about her manners.

Rae and Yami had been in a relationship since their teens. It didn’t take long for Yami to become the captain of his squad, which led to Rae as his vice-captain. She helped train the squad members, especially Magna since she also had fire mana. Eventually, the entire squad just started calling her mom, which she found sweet. 

Yami and Rae attended a few get-togethers with the other captains, and he thoroughly enjoyed her making fun of the royals, especially Nozel Silva and his stupid braid. Occasionally this set the Silva siblings into a rage, and they almost attacked Rae, but when she amped up her mana, they quickly walked away.

Rae is well acquainted with all of the Magic Knight captains, but the only one that doesn’t drive her crazy is Fuegoleon Vermillion. While she is still very much in love with Yami, who would also hold a piece of her heart, she couldn’t fight the attraction she felt when with the Crimson Lion King. He was so unjudgemental. He didn’t care about her status, about her being a foreigner. None of it seemed to matter to him. In fact, he enjoyed making fun of them as much as she and Yami did. It sounded so odd coming out of the mouth of a royal, let alone one as straight-faced and serious Crimson Lion Kin. He was curious about her mana, though he never tried to get her to switch squads after seeing her strength and control over fire. She could rival even the Vermillions with a little more training.

 She had gotten to know him very well over the years since she attended all of the meetings that Yami didn’t want to attend, which meant she went to almost everything, even the star-awarding festival once the Black Bulls were back at the bottom of the chart. She was privy to information she shouldn’t know since she sat in on captains’ meetings. While it was apparent that most of the captains happened to hate her, she found Fuegoleon easy to talk to and enjoyed their conversations which could range from non-confidential missions to their squauds’ shenanigans. While it made some captains uncomfortable, they all knew Yami would tell her everything anyway. They often complained about all of the duties that came with being a captain, knowing she did most of the office work while Yami sat on his ass reading a newspaper and smoking like a chimney. 

“Has Nozel always had that braid? It’s fucking ridiculous! How can anyone take him seriously? Can he even see with that damn thing in his face, or is he just really good at guessing where his opponent is?” Rae laughed one night.

“Believe it or not, he grew out his bangs when we were teenagers to have that braid. I believe his exact words were, ‘Now no woman will ever say no to me.’”

“I call bullshit!”

“I swear! That is exactly what happened!”

“What about that shitty attitude? I know it’s not fully genetic since Noelle is actually a decent person.”

“My rival and his siblings do have very…difficult…personalities,” Fuegoleon

sympathized.

“Oh please, him trying to be your rival is like Asta trying to use magic.”

“What is that troublemaker up to these days?” He asked, dodging the compliment. 

“Same old same old. Taking on too many missions, constantly getting hurt, and busting his ass to clean the house when he’s not allowed to go on missions. The boy is going to work himself into the ground before he’s our age.”

“How did the last dungeon mission go?”

“Very few casualties. The squad is FINALLY learning how to work together better. What about your little cubs? How’s Leo doing?”

“My cubs,” he said, rolling his eyes,” Are doing great, training hard. As for Leo, his talent is almost on par with my own. A few more years, and he’ll be ready to be vice-captain.”

“Good to hear. I always liked that little scamp the few times I’ve seen him. That kid deserves it. Hey! See if you can talk your sister into taking me on her hotsprings trip this year! I’ve always wanted to go!”

“I’ll be sure to pass the message along.”

“What message?” his big sister asked as she rounded the corner.

“I was just asking him to let you know I’d like to go on one of your infamous hot springs trips. The Bulls wouldn’t stop raging about it a few years back.”

“Consider yourself invited!”

“Thanks, Mereolona! I look forward to it!”

“It’s not like you’ll be hard to find. You’ll probably already be living here by then, saving him from marrying that bitch from the Heart Kingdom.” 

Before you or Fuegoleon could object to her statement, the subject was quickly changed, and Rae returned to the Black Bulls hide-out. 

After attending a meeting where some of their squad members were getting promoted, Yami started to get worried about how well Rae got along with the Lion King, his subconscious telling him that the royal would take the love of his life. When they returned, Yami practically pounced on her the moment walked into the living room, pinning her up against the wall. He kissed her deeply, then down her neck, physically trying to express his love since he wasn’t so good with words. After getting a few comments from people in the area, he growled and threw Rae over his shoulder.

“Leave us the hell alone for the rest of the night. Anything you hear, you keep your mouth shut about or leave,” he told their squad. When they reached their room, Rae was thrown unceremoniously onto the bed before her clothes were practically ripped from her body. Yami continued kissing down her neck before he started playing with her large breasts. He took turns on each hard nipple before running his hands up and down her body while he looked into her eyes. She smiled at him, knowing this was how he was showing her he loved her. He grinned down at her before moving her properly on the bed. He quickly disappeared between her legs, eating her out, one of his favorite things to do.

“Damn, baby, you’re already soaked…I hope it's for me and not that damn stuck-up Lion King.”

“It's always for you, Yami. You’re the only one who can make me feel this good,” Rae groaned as Yami licked a long strip up her pussy before focusing on sucking on her clit. He didn’t stop lapping at her pussy until he needed air.

“You always taste so damn good,” he said before diving back down like she was the last meal he would ever have. It didn’t take long before she was moaning his name and pulling on his hair.

“Fuck Yami! I’m gonna cum!” Rae yelled after a few minutes after his digits had joined the party

“That’s it, baby girl, cum all over my face,” he said, doubling his efforts. Soon, Rae was granting his wish while screaming his name. “God, you taste amazing when you cum…bet the Lion King would never do this for you.”

Rae put a complete halt on sex for the rest of the night after that. 

“Why do you worry about him so much, Yami?” “Because he’s going to steal you away from me! I saw you being all fuckin’ buddy-buddy with him when Luck, Grey, and Magna got promoted!”

“For fucks sake, I go to all the damn meetings at the capitol for you, and I need someone to talk to! You know those damn things go on forever, and he’s literally the only person there but Julius I get along with! “Then talk to Julius!”

“He’s always too busy! You’re so fucking insecure. We’ve been together since we were 18! Literally TEN YEARS! Do you honestly trust me that little?”

“It’s not you I don’t trust. It’s him. I see the way he looks at you, Rae.”

“Well, get your eyes checked because we are nothing but FRIENDS, Yami Sukehiro. Get the thick head of yours out of your ass and stop being so fucking paranoid. Hell, the two of you would actually get along great if you’d give him half a chance.”

“Why would I give that all high and mighty bastard a chance? He’s just like all of those other assholes.”

Rae scoffed at that. “No, Yami, he’s not. Why are we even having this conversation? It’s ridiculous. You know me better than this.”

“You think I haven’t heard the rumors? I’ve heard that the two of you are awfully chummy at meetings.”

“Then start going to them yourself! It’s not my job! Damn it, Yami, why are we even having this conversation?”

“We’re having this conversation because I’m a paranoid, jealous asshole who doesn’t want to lose the love of his fucking life.”

“You’re not going to lose me, Yami unless you keep treating me like I’m cheating on you for being friends with some other guy.” 

“Okay, I’ll try.”

LET ME KNOW IF I SHOULD KEEP GOING

[rebelcaptain4life]

The Rookie 4x01

Sooo many thoughts and even more tears. So imma just go through everything here I guess

Grey dealing with what happened 😭 grieving Jackson, but also needing to get Angela back. Grappling with sending in the rest of his team and potentially getting them killed, too, or waiting until they're sure the area is clear but waisting precious time

Jackson 😭😭😭😭💔💔💔💔💔

Can't believe they all just had to watch their friend get killed like that 😔

"I lost a kid who's like a son to me" GREY 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭💔💔💔💔💔💔💔

"to show that we're not in America but in a third world country, we're gonna apply a beige filter to make everything look dusty" 🤡

I know Alyssa's just acting but I wonder what effect, if any, pretending to be in these stressful situations has on her real baby lol

Lucy is so smart, I won't stop saying it. She figured out why Lopez would be taken and still alive

GOOD JOB JACKSON OUR SMART COURAGEOUS BOY 😭😭😭

"Sir, we'll come up with a plan, it's not all on you" 😭😭😔😭😔 Grey has so much weight on his shoulders, he's the leader, he has to figure out what to do on top of his grief and worry. Nice moment of Tim telling him he's not alone

Bro seriously why did Nolan just ditch Lucy. I know it was for the Chenford but like they're supposed to be so close??? Also "you shouldn't be alone right now" again love the Chenford but what about Tamara??? Poor girl is also gonna be alone in that empty house

Ah so this is how Elijah came into the fold

*ehhem* AND THERE WAS ONLY ONE BED come on I'm sure you can both fit

That hug uhhh 👀👀👀 coming from S5, if the writers weren't setting up Chenford before (ie in the end of s3) they definitely were now

My personal speculation for what would've happened if Tim didn't get the phone call is a lot more angst and hurt/comfort. Like they whole point of her being there is to not be alone, but she's alone on that couch. I just picture Lucy going to Tim and breaking down sobbing. Tim holds her as long as she needs, until she falls asleep 🥲

LAPD doesn't have an air force but could Wesley borrow a private jet or something...?

I know it's not a great moment to acknowledge Nolan finished his training but I think it added some levity to a really dark episode, and also gave the team some much needed positivity

Noooo Lucy freaking out that maybe Gray was shot too cuz he wasn't answering 😭😭😭😭 NOT GREY GIVING HER THE SIDE EYE FOR IT poor girl just lost her bff to this guy 😭😭😭

Jackson's room😭😭😭😭😭

Didn't think Wesley had all this in him ngl 👏

Angela taking down a bad guy while in labour, so badass

"How do you feel about running" "IM IN LABOUR" can't Tim just carry her or something???

Angela looking around at her found family 🥹🥹🥹🥹 and the missing place where Jackson should've been 😭😭😭

Angela talking to Jackson 😭😭😭😭

Again coming from S5, I know the baby's name is Jackson but hearing it said in this episode, when it was the first time, is so special 😭😭😭

Btw when did Angela and Wesley officially get married?

[nqgmx]

✧ THE GUN (2018) - film review / analysis

watch here!

so i'm currently so hyperfixated on nijiro murakami so that basically means i now have to watch his entire filmography, no matter how bad the film is or how badly the subs are translated, so today i watched the gun and oh my gosh it was,,, interesting!! i have SO many thoughts so sorry if this review is a bit of mess, plus i literally can't stop thinking about this film and i have no idea why help

the gun is neo-noir drama directed by masaharu take staring nijiro murakami, alice hirose and lily franky. the film follows nishikawa toru, an emotionless college student who one day, stumbles across a murder scene and, without thinking, picks up the murder weapon - a handgun - and slowly becomes more and more obsessed with it as it consumes him.

firstly i want to say something that's been so heavy on my mind since i watched this film... the gun is a metaphor. it has to be. my friend lina (@metaromancia) and i are convinced that it is. for what? who knows, but it can't be that simple. like, toru becomes so infatuated with this gun in such a unique way in the sense that throughout the film, it's shown that he can't be interested in women in a typical way (it's shown that the only way that he can be intimate with women is through sex), yet he's so obsessed with this gun the same way that men would typically be obsessed with women (not in a sexual way, but more in the sense that it takes up all his thoughts and time). at first i was thinking whether it's a metaphor for intrusive thoughts (specifically sexual thoughts as sex is a common theme) but it doesn't really make much sense, then i was thinking whether it's a metaphor for mortality, as at one part toru says something along the lines of 'i'm happy to die when i die', suggesting that the gun is a metaphor for the concept that you can really die any moment, but the ending debunked that theory. seriously, i'm so interested by this as it has to mean something, but i don't know what it is and it's seriously bugging me.

another thing that's been heavy on my mind is toru's character: he has such an interesting character that is unlike one i've ever seen before, mainly because he's just so empty. one scene that really stood out to me is the scene when he initially finds the gun, and how that's the only scene (excluding the ending) where he's shown feeling a positive emotion. throughout the rest of the film, he's shown to just be feeling more typically negative emotions, such as annoyed or angry. i was saying to lina earlier that i found that the only moment in which he felt a 'true' emotion was when he couldn't shoot his neighbour and it caused him to break down, and at the end of the film, the scene on the train when the film turned from black and white to colour. ugh, i don't know, i could talk about his character for ages, i just found him to be really interesting and unique!! i might do a full character analysis but who knows, i won't put it in this post as it'll be very long

finally i want to talk about the film itself: i'm probably really biased saying this because i love love love neo-noirs but i really enjoyed the cinematography!! there were some moments where, to be honest, the cinematography was so ugly (like the moment where toru was about to shoot his neighbour and there was these awful overlays ew) but there were a few moments i really loved, especially the moments with more traditional noir-style shots. i kind of hated the black and white filter at the beginning, but at the end when it turned to colour, that moment was super effective, especially as everything was bright red; i did seriously love that moment. however one thing that really made me upset is the subs, like they're SO BAD like they're translated so wrong it makes me so upset because i didn't totally understand the dialogue so i can't comment on it. plus i can't fully appreciate the writing as i kind of had no idea what the characters were saying but on the plus side i could fully appreciate the visuals! also the acting was SO GOOD from all the actors, even if they just had a tiny role. like nijiro's performance was so good hello?? i'm obsessed

anyways i apologise for this being so long for my first post(?) but i just had so many thoughts and ideas about this film i really needed to get them out!! this did mostly turn into a ramble though so again, apologies!! :D

[1863-project]

I posted 1,757 times in 2022

That's 1,161 more posts than 2021!

856 posts created (49%)

901 posts reblogged (51%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@neon-moon-beam

@gummycore

@chingaderita

@autisticwolfesbrainisautistic

@shotsofnovacaine

I tagged 1,757 of my posts in 2022

#reblogs - 902 posts

#pokemon - 699 posts

#replies - 628 posts

#submas - 492 posts

#i like trains - 276 posts

#drawing - 88 posts

#art - 88 posts

#actuallyautistic - 71 posts

#autism - 71 posts

#paleontology - 64 posts

Longest Tag: 138 characters

#seriously this is what i wake up to every morning except unlike emmet i have an abnormally large cat instead of an abnormally large spider

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

Update to this post: I’m trying to actively figure out whose windup they gave him.

See, they’ve been doing this for a while now. Most famously, Volo has Hisashi Iwakuma’s extremely recognizable windup, but Hop throws like Hideo Nomo and Kabu throws like Choji Murata.

Larry has more of a sidearm throw, which is an uncommon delivery in baseball. You can see it in action here:

See the full post

1,112 notes - Posted November 21, 2022

#4

Ingo and Emmet Are Both Autistic and I Will Die On This Hill, Thank You Very Much

Hey, remember over a year ago when I wrote that post screaming into the void about how Emmet is autistic? Consider this an updated version of that post, because I really should have talked about how they both are.

Disclaimer: I am an autistic adult who went undiagnosed until age 20 despite a blatant love of steam locomotives so I don’t know how I was missed considering I had the single most stereotypical interest on the planet. (I’ll touch on that later.)

Anyhow, I’ll try to keep this brief (and will likely fail), but let’s get into how both Ingo and Emmet are autistic, actually.

this goofball Emmet

Emmet’s the more obvious one, which is why I wrote the initial post linked above. He clearly scripts, has trouble containing his sheer excitement about things (read: Doubles) to the point of bothering other people, has no filter, will happily infodump about strategy or the MTA rules if asked, and in the manga has an arm-swinging walk that’s visibly a stim if you know it. 

The scripting is evident when you fight him by himself, as his dialogue often feels stiff (in Japanese it’s more informal to contrast with his hyper-formal brother), but the line that always seals the deal for me is actually this, when Ingo asks him to put in a few words before a Multi Battle:

See the full post

2,056 notes - Posted February 15, 2022

#3

A Brief Submas Primer

Did you just find out about the Pokemon franchise’s most popular battle facility since the Battle Frontier because of a plot point in Legends: Arceus? Were you curious because your friends were talking about some weird train man and you have no idea what they’re on about? Worry no longer, because this mole person has you covered.

What the hell is Submas?

The term ‘Submas’ is a portmanteau of their Japanese trainer class title, Subway Masters (in English releases, they got the trainer class title Subway Boss). Note that I’m saying “they” - there are, in fact, two of them, and they’re twins.

Ingo (Nobori) is the older of the two of them, specializing in Singles. He speaks overly politely/formally (more obvious in Japanese), has no indoor voice, will yell “BRAVO!” the second anything remotely good or exciting happens, has an overbearing sense of responsibility (it’s an older sibling thing, trust me), and became an accidental sex symbol on Pixiv (don’t ask, he probably doesn’t know either). He’s best known for being the “serious” one and notably has not been allowed to smile in-game to this day, although he was allowed in the anime and manga to be more expressive. He makes up for this by being very, very loud.

See the full post

4,080 notes - Posted February 3, 2022

#2

Nintendo NYC had an egg incubator bag so I am now hatching Joltiks in the NYC Subway, just as Emmet would want us all to.

7,019 notes - Posted April 1, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

In case anyone is wondering what real-world train drama is going on, there’s this.

The tl;dr is that Amtrak wants to run two passenger trains per day round-trip (4 runs total) between Mobile, Alabama and New Orleans, Louisiana, restoring a service that hasn’t been there since Hurricane Katrina in 2005. CSX and Norfolk Southern, two major freight train companies, have resisted this idea, saying it would mess up their traffic, especially since Amtrak’s passenger trains would get priority (by government decree, believe it or not).

So now Amtrak is on Twitch streaming the line to prove the line isn’t too busy for them to run passenger trains.

I’m wheezing.

41,186 notes - Posted April 7, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[sassypotatoe1]

Not to armchair diagnose but if you consider yourself an introverted extrovert, vice versa or an ambivert you might want to do some introspection and research because it's entirely possible that you're just autistic. Lemme explain. If you find that you struggle to form deep, long-lasting bonds with people, miss social cues often and get exhausted by spending a lot of time with a lot of people, but you also hate hate hate being alone and constantly crave connections you just can't seem to build, it might be because your brain processes social conventions differently and you're exhausted from sensory overload, masking, struggling to keep up with social conventions and difficulty regulating your feelings, not from actually being an introvert.

If your behavior and attitudes are contradicting that's fine, people are messy and contradicting and that's not necessarily pathological. If you struggle with some things that's fine, life is messy and contradicting and difficult, and it's not necessarily a Condition™. If, however, these things cause you frequent and intense distress or disable you from normal functioning you can go ahead and consider that something isn't quite right.

When I first got my adhd diagnosis I was so excited to tell everyone in my life so they would finally see why I am the way I am, that it's different brain chemistry, that I'm not lazy or doing it on purpose to be rebellious, and I'd use the words I learned fervently reading the dsm and journal articles to explain my struggles by pathologizing them, because I felt at the time that using words like "adhd paralysis" instead of "I want to do the thing but really can't" would make people take my struggles more seriously. Sometimes they did, mostly they just thought I was making excuses.

Sometimes, very rarely though, I'd talk to someone about the things I struggle with and they'd go "well everyone does that a bit" and at one point I learned to say "yeah, but is it to such a degree that it distresses you, disables you, can put your life at risk and makes things impossible for you that seem as easy as breathing to everyone else?" and it clicked for people.

I wasn't saying I have adhd because I forget my keys sometimes. I was saying I have adhd because I had to learn how to pick locks and scale palisade fencing to get into my own apartment at night after walking home in the dark because I forgot to arrange a lift again, and I'd locked my keys in my apartment for the 5th time that week, and nothing I've tried has made me stop forgetting it.

And since then I've gotten more diagnoses and my treatment plan and therapy strategy has changed half a dozen times, and I kept researching and learning and Journaling and exploring to figure out where what fits, and I've also learned that other than having a clear outline of your conditions, symptoms and struggles for medical purposes, pathologizing yourself is socially useless.

So now instead of saying "my nervous system can't regulate itself and my brain struggles with filtering sensory input" I say "my entire body is tingling painfully because my brother got the wrong flavor of ice cream and I can't stop crying about it because I REALLY needed triple chocolate ice cream to feel better, and I don't even know what from" because whichever way I phrase it, people who care will understand and people who don't will be committed to not understanding, and I can't change that, but I can change how I think about myself and my struggles and being more present in my experiences has been much more helpful than putting them at arms length with psychobabble and therapy speak.

This still doesn't change the fact that I have a list of diagnosed and undiagnosed conditions so long that I lovingly call it my shopping list. Understanding that something is wrong, what it is and how it affects me is crucially important, because in the past when I thought I was a typical abled normal kid, I almost got hit by high speed trains or almost broke my back, neck or collarbones in bad falls at gymnastics practice or drank so much coffee to be able to function that I'm convinced a congenital heart defect that typically makes itself known in someone's late 50s or 60s reared its head snarling and snapping at 20 almost 60% due to my coffee consumption during my teens alone.

Permanent injuries I have to live with now could have been avoided had I know that my unstable joints and clumsiness weren't just unfitness and inattention, but hypermobility and a built in weak interoception and proprioception. Knowing that my nervous system can't regulate itself properly helped me reduce self-harming behaviors significantly, because it was no longer "I'm crazy why can't I be normal why does this feel good why can't I stop" in my head, it was now "oh you're not regulated let's explore why you might feel this way and do a healthy stim. You like rough textures when you're embarrassed, so what can you do to manage how you're feeling now?"

Being aware that I get delusions and hallucinations now that they've significantly reduced after a med change did so much for my general paranoia and anxiety. I can watch a horror movie for the themes and story without being unable to sleep and panicking because I'm scared of ghosts I don't believe in, having to imagine a forcefield around myself to protect myself against forces I don't actually think are there, panicking every time my focus on this false force field slips even a bit. Shadows are just shadows now, and the way the lights from a passing car moves through the window is magical for completely mundane reasons: it looks fucking pretty.

This turned out much longer than intended but I guess what I'm trying to say with it is that if something causes you trouble or distress, you're not only welcome to but encouraged to explore what it might be, and you're allowed to pathologize your own behaviors, but you gotta maintain a balance, and it can take a bit to find it but it's worth trying anyway.

[neon-lights-stardust-nights]

9 for 🚬 and 15 for Xigbar!

OOOO IT'S THE SLEAZY OLD MEN! I say that like Hook isn't also potentially a sleaze www

9. Underwater kiss + 🚬 erm... I guess he got an accidental name reveal..

The fact this beach wasn’t frozen over was amazing. The train dropped them off there, before disappearing into the trees. What a nonsense world they had come to regard as normal…

Bone didn’t even hesitate. Fae rushed for the water with a kick in faers step. Everyone else, the whole gang was murmuring and talking about what to do. Some had towels, planning to just relax in this moderately warm pocket of the world. Terry had other ideas.

Bone couldn’t swim, yet Bone was standing where the tide could come up to faers waist. Fae just giggled, reveling in the lukewarm water. “Hey sport,” Terry called.

Fae looked back at him, questioning. Terry was glad he already had a bathing suit on. Bone though… “You just gonna run all the way out there in your leathers?”

With panic, Bone looked over faerself. Had fae seriously forgotten? Terry just laughed as Bone looked back at him. “Throw suit,” fae pleaded.

“It was on the train,” Terry replied with a laugh.

Bone flushed bright. “Hey, that’s alright. Not like those are mission leathers!”

Terry stood by faer now, done up in red and white stripes. His grin was drenched in sleaze… “You do gotta get punished though. Those were expensive, and wasn’t I the one who bought them for you?”

“Yes,” fae whimpered.

“Alright. Here it comes!”

The both hit the water with a splash. Bone had been practically tackled. Terry didn’t need to breathe, and the mask had a backup of a few minutes worth of filtered air for circumstances like these—for times when there was nothing filterable. So he was at full liberty to pepper his dead eye in kisses, who could only squirm on the red sand.

“Yield! I yield,” came muffled from the mask.

“Nope!” A few more kisses. “You know the rules,” and it was bubbled and muddled by the water.

Finally, some of that pink light seemed to be hiding in his chest. Bone knew where it was going. The mask was yanked off, Terry kissing faer again. If they weren’t indoors on base, it seemed like every kiss was Terry breathing for faer. The water did add a layer of romanticism to that idea that wasn’t normally there, however.

When he pulled away, Bone finally knocked him off of faer. His head popped out of the water laughing, hair sticking to his scalp, his face, his head in general. Bone came up next, dumping water out of faers mask. “Unfair,” Bone called.

“That’s what you like, ain’t it?”

Bone growled with no malice to it, rolling faers eyes.

15. Kiss on a dare + Xigbar... I decided to return to my roots a bit for this one. If you were in fandom back when these were common, you get a veteran's discount.

The basket was filled with all sorts of items. Xavyn was sat in the circle, waiting while Deymx shook it up. Out of everyone playing, there was them two, Axel, Xigbar, Luxord, and Marluxia. He particularly seemed to be disinterested, and it made Xavyn wonder why he was even playing.

“Alright!” Deymx held out the basket with both hands, top on it. It was wicker and old, but it worked. “Who first?”

Xigbar stood without needing anyone to prompt him more than that. “If I don’t go first, we know exactly who will.”

“Not quite my usual gamble,” Luxord contested. Yet, he didn’t disagree further. So Xigbar came to take the basket from Deymx, sliding the lid aside only as much as to put his hand in.

“No peeking,” Deymx reminded him.

Xigbar rolled his eye. “Yeah, yeah.”

Each thing was made of paper, though the gloves everyone wore didn’t make that mean much. They were all origami, though the ones who couldn’t do that very well had to have someone else make them. That someone else was Marluxia. Maybe that’s why he was even playing: he just wanted to see his work.

From the basket, Xigbar pulled a star. All eyes immediately landed on Xavyn. “What? Anyone could’ve picked a star!”

“Isn’t one of your keyblades comet themed,” Deymx asked. Then he chuckled a hissing sort of chuckle, like he was trying hard to not laugh.

“Well!”

“Not mine,” Luxord said, starting a chain reaction.

Marluxia shook his head. “I made a flower, as to not cause confusion.”

“Not mine either,” Deymx confirmed.

Axel had been holding in chuckles the whole time, and now he finally let some out. “Nope,” he muttered.

Xigbar smirked. “I’m standing up here, so it’d be real awkward if I pulled my own origami.”

Xavyn stood in a huff. “Fine!” Xigbar left the basket in Deymx’s hands as Xavyn came to stand by him. “It’s seven minutes, right?”

“Seven minutes in heaven,” Xigbar half sang.

“Shut up!” Xavyn’s face was beet red.

Deymx gave them both a weak shove. “Alright, the closet’s right outside in the hall! I’ll come grab you when those seven minutes are up.”

“I’ll come grab you,” Axel chimed. “He’ll forget.”

Deymx didn’t defend himself. He just shrugged, leaving Xigbar to take Xavyn by the arm. “Alright, let’s go.”

He more guided faer than pulled faer along. Once they were actually in the closet, neither of them could really see. Xavyn felt for a light switch, but there was none. Xigbar asked right after fae had confirmed that—“lights?”

“Nope.” Xavyn turned vaguely his direction, guided by his voice. “This thing’s pretty empty… Just a few spare coats. This is out in the hall, so I expected a broom or something.”

“Nah, that closet is closer to Saix’s room.”

“I see…”

Xavyn realized he had come closer—the shift of fabric was followed by hot breath and a voice in faers ear. “Well? The whole point of this is to fool around!”

“You’re the one who scouted me. Is this even appropriate?”

He scoffed. “Since when have we been appropriate with each other?”

“Fair enough.” Xavyn felt a bit, and Xigbar paused. Scruff and scar signified that fae finally found his face, and fae leaned right in.

Xigbar gladly deepened the kiss. He drove everything forward—he was the one who tested the waters with his tongue. Xavyn reciprocated gladly. For a moment, fae was upset they only had seven minutes. A little part of faer wanted this all to turn into heavy petting, and where ever that took them would’ve been between them and god.

He seemed far less embarrassed by the idea of being walked in on. Xavyn broke the kiss as he palmed at—“hey! What if Axel just swings the door open?”

“You’re hard as a rock, c’mon.” He chuckled. “I bet you’d be into getting caught anyway.”

“Xigbar!”

He just laughed.

[technodromes]

Sinday Headcanons 01

Krang

He is willing to talk expertly about the breeding between Utrom, but he has no physical experience himself. He will admit that only begrudgingly tho.

He is hesitant to talk about explicit themes in an open and spicy manner and will usually try to change topics quickly when it gets too detailed for his liking.

He would like to have sex sometimes but turns out he gets too nervous to bring it up if there's an opportunity. The struggle is real.

IF he actually had sex, tho? He will lie next to his partner afterward and purr like a content cat. It's really adorable actually. You will never hear him purr otherwise.

He's a bossy space invader. But he's not so bossy in his sexual life.

Shredder

Anger Sex? Anger Sex.

Seriously tho that man didn't get properly laid anymore in a while.

It's not even that he's shy or awkward. He's usually just too busy being angry with planning his revenge on his lifelong foe, Hamato Yoshi.

He's in his late forties, but still in top shape thanks to constantly training his body. Other men that are younger than him would be jealous.

Sex with him usually happens after a huge emotional outburst.

He's not really the romantic type though.

Sub-Prime

He is the most unhinged one in the group when it comes to suggestive topics and he talks about sex without a filter whatsoever (usually much to Krang's dismay).

He is greatly amused by the obsession some people on earth have when it comes to bad alien movies and tentacle sex. He has watched a fair share of them.

He is not opposed to actually do sex if he's asked to, but beware of his teeth. He WILL bite, much like 'I bit it, so it's mine'. He also likes to experiment a lot.

If he's told to hold back in biting, he'll use his forked tongue instead. Excessively.

Bebop & Rocksteady

They're the manchildren of the crew and don't talk about explicit topics. You see them rather sit in a corner and enjoy cartoons.

Are they gay tho? Yes. Yes they are, your honor.

[workofheart]

extra help | gojo satoru

what’s a teacher to do when his student is building up so much cursed energy? help her get it under control, of course.

pairing: gojo satoru x f!reader

wc: 4.7k

warnings: smut, 18+ (minors dni), teacher/student relations (reader is of age), fingering, oral (f receiving), dirty talk, sir kink, unprotected sex (do not do this), lowkey corruption, squirting, exhibitionism (?), creampie, gojo refers to himself as “teacher” because i said so

note: barely edited, something to ease the brainrot. gojo satoru hollow me challenge. 

“Can you maybe, I don’t know, shut the fuck up?”

The jab spews out of your mouth before you can stop it. Your filter is long gone, the thoughts that pop into your head forming into verbal words without the chance to even process them. Once you hear it, you mentally slap yourself. Now you just look like an asshole.

“Jeez, no need to be a bitch about it,” mutters Nobara. She rests on the concrete steps on her elbows, appearing utterly disinterested with her head tossed back and eyes closed, soaking in the fresh air.

“I’m not being a bitch.”

“Yes, you are.”

“I’m not!”

“You kind of are,” Megumi says quietly, shrugging slightly when your incredulous expression finds his to be stoic and unmoving. He leans down to scratch behind one of his dog’s ears. His nonchalance boils your blood even further, effectively working you up past your melting point. A bitter laugh leaves your mouth.

“...You motherfucker-”

“Good morning, everybody!”

You sigh, lips hanging open with the rest of your insult frozen where it was interrupted. From over the small hill behind you, Gojo Satoru greets everyone with a bright energy you aren’t capable of returning this early in the day. 

You try your best to shake it off. The other students wave back happily as you sulk, aimlessly stretching your arms over your head in an attempt to push out the thousand things running through your mind, not one of which you’re capable of dealing with.

And maybe it is a good morning - the sun is out, the air is cool, there’s not a breeze passing by to mess up your hair. It’s a lovely day to be training. Megumi has been walking his dogs around the field, Yuuji has been racing himself from one end to the other, meanwhile the others take turns sparring. The springtime weather is rewarding, which is why it’s such a shame you can’t enjoy it.

Gojo reaches up a hand to lift one side of his blindfold. Though he’s standing all the way over on the steps, you can see his eyes clearly, crystalline blue and staring with scrutiny. The man leans forward into his gaze, and the way he’s inspecting you soon irritates you further.

“What’s with all the cursed energy?” he asks, letting his blindfold fall over his eye again. 

Yuuji perks up at the comment from where he’s been sitting after his run, pulling out blades of grass between his fingertips. “So it’s not just me?” he pipes up, pushing himself up to his feet. He seems relieved, turning his attention to you. “I thought maybe you just had a bad day but it seems like it’s seeping off you all the time now.”

Your lips press into a thin line as your eyelids droop in annoyance, trying to think up a reasonable answer quick. Unfortunately, you don’t get the time to do so.

“I don’t need to see it to feel it,” Maki adds. She finishes tying up her laces, objectivity unmoving with the deadpan spreading across your features. Your jaw tenses. “Didn’t want to say anything in case it would make you angrier.”

“Too late!” you snap, huffing as you place your arms over your chest. The number of eyes on you has your cheeks burning, and paired with your current vexation, makes you feel even worse.

“Well, what are you angry about?” Yuuji asks. 

“I’m not angry about anything.”

“That sounds a little defensive,” Gojo comments.

“You seem frustrated, that’s all.” Yuuji looks at you with a genuine curiosity that makes it hard to be mad at him. His doe eyes couldn’t possibly imagine what the real issue at hand is.

“Yeah, she’s frustrated all right,”  Nobara juts in. Her tone is whiney and annoyed, and you hope the glare you send her will shut her up, but she acts as if she doesn’t see it, only looking down at her nails in distaste. Then comes the zinger. “It’s because she hasn’t gotten laid in months.”

“That is not true!” you yell, but the obvious rage bubbling out of you gives it away. 

“Cursed energy can build from that?”

“It would explain a lot.”

“That sounds definitely defensive.”

“Shut up!” you shout, throwing your hands over your face to hide your cheeks burning in embarrassment. Then you’re sitting back on the field, hanging your head low over your knees. Quietly, you mutter, “You promised you wouldn’t say anything.”

☆☆☆

“You wanted to see me, sir?”

The walk here had been nerve wracking enough. Your heart had been stuck in your throat since the track this morning, if not from the sheer embarrassment of Nobara telling everyone you were sexually frustrated, then surely from the way Gojo had asked you to meet with him later in an old classroom rather seriously before walking off.

It scared you half to death upon hearing it, and just thinking about it scared the other half, so you’re hanging on by the thinnest of threads. The others comments hadn’t helped either, teasing about the frightening methods he’d use to dispel the energy, or how he’d berate you for being so stupid, or whatever else the maniac of a man had to offer.

Gojo leans back lazily in his chair, long legs thrown over the desk for his comfort and leisure. He stretches, letting out a satisfied groan with his arms straightened behind his head as you close the door behind you. 

“About time you got here. Been waiting forever.”

The lights are off, but evening sun pours in through the wall of windows that look out over the courtyard to brighten the room. He tosses a small apple plush above him with a smooth flick of his wrist, catching it on its down arc with ease. It looks like a marble with how it sits in his massive palms.

“Well, this wing is on the other side of campus,” you swallow, fiddling with your fingers absentmindedly. That reminds you...“Why are we this far, anyway?”

He sighs, placing the toy back down at the top of his desk and resting his chin on his palm. You can feel his eyes on you through his blindfold. “To solve your problem, of course.”

“My… my problem? No, I don’t have any problems,” you say with a shake of your head as genuine as you can muster, a nervous smile flashing across your expression as he stands. His hand trails along the desk as he moves around it. When you get the feeling he doesn’t believe you, you start again, “If it’s about what Nobara said, it’s really no big deal-” 

“While you’re a talented sorcerer, you’re not a very good liar.” He comes to a stop in front of you, towering over your small frame. His head is turned down toward you but you refrain from making eye contact. Trying to maintain your composure, you look straight into his chest and then avert your eyes to the sid, looking anywhere else in the room but him - the chalkboard, the windows, the posters on the wall - that is, until he takes your chin in his hand and tugs your face up to look at him directly.

He’s taken off his blindfold, the black cloth crumpled in his palm and already tossed to the floor.

The way you’re staring at him, that desire that lies just below the fear, has his dick tenting in his pants. When he focuses, he can see the cursed energy radiating from your body, dark and cloudy as it surrounds you. “Yuuji’s right, it’s practically seeping from you,” he coos, eyebrows drawn together in concern.

He drinks in your apprehension with a sadistic sort of delight, and you don’t miss the feel of his eyes as they trace down your body. “My student is struggling,” he says tenderly, tapping his index finger along your cheek lightly. “What kind of teacher would I be if I didn’t help?” 

He eats up the way you look at him, swept away and hazy, your brain turning to mush at the sound of his voice. Heat pools in your panties, and the subtle manner in which your thighs shift against each other is not lost on him.

The tension in the air is electrifying. Leaning down to your ear, he says what’s been on his mind for weeks. “Don’t think I can’t hear you at night, touching yourself, trying so hard to make it go away on your own.”

His words leave your throat dry and stomach churning. Your face burns, thinking of him listening to your pitiful attempts to get off. Clearly, the sleepless nights of trying to cum, letting slip the small whimpers you couldn’t care to hold back, hands buried in your panties and writhing in your bed sheets, were no secret to anyone but you.

You’re almost mortified. You would be, if it wasn’t for your hot teacher standing in front of you, smiling as he remembers how pretty you sounded, offering to fuck the shit out of you to sate your frustration.

And god, just how pretty you sound. He’d never admit it sober, but the times he’s taken “random” late night walks around the buildings that have ended up at the outside of your bedroom door are far too many to count. Palming himself through his trousers, panting as he pictures you just through the slab of wood exactly how he plans on having you now.

“I...I don’t know if we should be doing this,” you mumble in a moment of clarity, gaze flickering to the window in the door that lets you see into the empty hallway just outside. Swallowing hard, scenarios of your classmates walking by, peering through, clouds your head. “What if someone…”

“They’re on the other side of campus, remember?” he teases. His fingers slide back along your jaw, brushing your hair from your forehead before settling to cup the side of your face. “You can make all the noise you want out here.”

Heat spreads through your core and inner thighs accompanied by a visible shiver, a pleased grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. The proximity alone is making you wet. His presence is overwhelming with the unimaginable power he holds over you.

His neck tilts down to reach you, hovering with his lips not a breath away from yours. Gojo waits. Tentative, you press your mouth to his and your eyes flutter shut, feeling him smile as his hands make contact with your hips. He’s gentle and slow, his lips pillowy and soft against yours, moving carefully as if not to scare you away.

He muffles a timid whimper with his mouth and takes the lead, kissing you harder and pulling you into a firm lip lock before spinning you around and walking you backwards toward the desk. Hesitant hands reach up to his shoulders, something Gojo senses immediately, shy hands working up the confidence to splay over his broad shoulders. He knows you so well by now - there’s a reason you’re his favorite student.

“Let me help, princess,” he insists, breaking away to quell your uncertainty. “You know I’m the only one who can.” Gojo’s voice is hypnotizing, his promises filling your head with a desiring haze.

Your tiny, timid fingers hanging around his neck, crawling up his nape as if searching for safety, have him reeling. He might just devour you, so cute and innocent and willing in front of him.

You’re melting into his touch as his hands squeeze your hips, rubbing up your sides until they lay a firm grasp on your hips, sitting you fully on the desk. His touch is teasing and featherlight as he drags it up your calves, hiking up your skirt to get where he wants to be, situated right between your thighs.

“None of the other guys fuck you the way you need to be fucked, right?”

He may be cocky, but it’s for good reason.

Gojo Satoru is older, he’s experienced, he knows what he’s doing. He knows you, in fact, more than you think. Don’t be fooled - he sees you sneaking off campus, sees the texts you send to the boys in the nearest town, overhears how you talk to them over the phone when you think no one is listening. He also sees how disappointed you look every time you return from one of your escapades. 

You’re mature for your age, but no one is willing to fuck you like it. Except him, of course.

A large hand cradles the back of your head to keep kissing you. His mouth is ravishing, absolutely eating up the feeble mewls that escape you. Deft fingers unbutton your uniform with ease and slip it down your shoulders to reveal your chest as if he’s done it a thousand times.

He moves to unclasp your bra, but is surprised to meet your bare skin. He pulls back from your mouth to meet your eyes, and you already know what he’s thinking with the way he looks down at you, head tilted back with a dark mirth.

“No bra?” he inquires, rolling your perky buds between his fingers, and your lack of verbal response, that guilt in the slight raise of your eyebrows, tells him everything he needs to know. “Naughty girl. Makes me think you were expecting this.” He makes you purr like a kitten, free hand kneading at your chest, coaxing out sweet little noises that make his dick throb in his pants. 

You inhale sharply at a particular tweak of your nipple that has your body tingling, arching into him. “Sir, I-” 

His mouth is on your neck, sucking on that sensitive spot below your ear, just next to your jaw. The feel of his teeth gently scraping down sends chills through your shoulders and down your back, subconsciously tilting your head to the side and exposing more to him, inviting him to your body even further.

“It’s okay, you can tell me how bad you need my cock,” he says against your skin.

Your body flushes hot beneath him. A hand cups your clothed core. The friction has your hips lifting in desperate motions for more, pushing against his fingers for some kind of relief.

“Poor thing, too horny for your own good,” he says, peering down at you. He tugs at the tiny, delicate bow sewn into the lace band of your panties, a smug expression passing over his features. “But don’t worry, teacher’s here to make you feel better.”

He hooks his pointer finger underneath the center of your panties and pulls it up, forcing the fabric taught against your slit between your folds, urging a cry to fall from your lips. You’re absolutely aching for more, pussy desperate for contact as your hips buck. His opposite thumb goes straight to your swollen clit where it bulges through the thin cotton, reducing you to whines as he applies light pressure. 

“So sensitive,” he says with a teasing lilt in his tone, caught between looking at your pussy and your dazed expression. “You want my fingers?”

He knows he’s supposed to be helping you, but he can’t stop himself with how cute you look like this. He’s already thinking of just how far he can push you, just what he can get you to admit to him.

“Yes, please,” you’re begging, pulling your lips under your teeth, and how can he say no? He has no other choice but to indulge you.

He pulls your panties to the side and finally, his long, thick fingers sink inside you without warning, pushing a lewd moan from your throat.

He groans at the way you pulse around his digits. Your walls suck him right in. “Fuck, look at your pretty little cunt. Feels good, huh?”

Your mouth falls open as you nod, staring at him through half-mast, glassy eyes. Light amusement covers his face as he works your walls diligently, curling up and massaging that spongy spot he knows you like from the sounds you’re making.

“Yeah, I know it does. Need it so bad, don’t you?”

“Yes, ah, need it so much,” you whine. At this point, you’d follow his every command, answer his every question, if it means he’ll keep doing what he’s doing. He connects his lips to yours again, swallowing up the noises that leave your throat, before moving down. He trails his mouth over your sensitive, flushed skin, burning to the touch as he leaves harsh, bruising marks behind. He’s kneeling down and throwing your legs over his shoulders without hesitation.

He has you desperate and shameless with how he’s making you feel. It doesn’t matter that he’s your teacher, it doesn’t matter that you’ll have to face him in class after the fact, all that matters is how hot and aching your core is, how bad you need him there to fix it. “More, sir, p-please.”

He groans at the name you’ve given him, that you’re addressing him by so earnestly. He never even asked you to, so when it spills out of your mouth so submissively, he can’t help the way it goes straight to his cock. “So polite, aren’t you? Let me hear you, be specific.” 

His fingers leave you clenching around nothing as he pulls them out of you, watching the string of slick stretch until it breaks. He slips them right into his mouth, licking your arousal off of his fingers, humming in delight. 

You’re fixated on his glossy, wet lips, entranced by the slight smile to his words. “Please, your mouth,” you plead breathlessly through a gulp. 

He presses a chaste kiss to the plush of your thigh, eyes flicking up to meet yours. His lips ghost over the tops of your knee socks and nip at the slight pudge that squeezes out.

“Since you asked so nicely,” he murmurs. Then, he’s diving in, latching his warm, wet mouth onto your pussy. You feel yourself gush under his lips as his tongue laves harsh strokes against your entrance. He has you quivering, your hips moving on their own accord over his face.

You squirm under his relentless tongue, swiping through your slick and spreading it all over your inner thighs. He laps at your fluttering hole before suckling your clit into his mouth, hot tongue flicking over it before releasing with a playful pop.

He thrives off of the whimpers leaving your mouth. A loud moan tears from you as his fingers plunge into you again, hands shooting to his snowy locks to ground yourself. You’re throwing your head back, keening in the firm grip he has pushing back your leg, his tongue swiping at you expertly while the pads of his fingers curl up into the spot you need him at, keeping his head pressed tight to your drooling cunt.

Pointed flicks of his tongue target your clit, puffy and sensitive, and you can’t help the way your hips buck up for more, babbling nonsense. His firm muscle prods at your hole before flattening and licking wide and short strokes up your folds.

“Aw, you wanna cum, don’t you? Gonna cum for me like a good girl?”

You only have the strength to nod, eyes squeezing shut and your lips parted in choked breaths.

“Look at me,” he commands sternly, and your lids are prying open immediately, struggling to keep your gaze on him with the pleasure he’s relentlessly forcing on your body. His plump lips are lustrous with your arousal. “Go ahead. Cum.”

His eyes bore into you as your face contorts, body tensing all over as you tip over the edge. That coil in your stomach which Gojo has so masterfully built snaps like a rubber band, shattering your mind as pleasure ripples through your body. You’re still as your release surges through you, making him moan against your pussy.

“That’s it, there you go,” he says with a growl as you take your first breath after the inhibiting pleasure fades, eyes darkening as he watches you, keeping pressure on your nub with his thumb, smooth strokes working you through your high. 

He carefully helps you drop to your feet, rubbing soothing circles into your hips, planting kisses to your temples before spinning you around to face the desk. You’re wobbly, but it’s nothing he can’t compensate for with his natural strength.

“Gonna take such good care of you,” he mumbles, large hands exploring the expanse of your back. He pushes you down, gentle fingers trailing up your spine until they find their hold on your hips like they were meant to be, loving how pliant you are beneath him.

The anticipation has you dripping, heart pounding as he flips up your skirt again, pussy aching to be filled. You hear the tugging of his trousers down to the floor, and a hefty exhale as he gives himself a few strokes in his palm.

His cock, hot and heavy and hard, presses into you slowly. You feel his girth immediately, cunt stretching deliciously to accommodate his size. It’s instant relief, finally the pleasure you’ve been desperate for, a drug you have to be careful of or you might just get addicted.

“Fuck,” he groans lowly, “So fuckin’ tight for me.”

You’re stuffed to the brim, focusing on how full you are, his fingers massaging the flesh of your ass as he gives you a moment to adjust. He feels his self-restraint thinning as you squeeze him. He’s gonna make you drool for him, make his cute innocent student into his little whore, make sure teacher’s the only one who touches you like this.

At first, his pace is slow and steady, sensual pumps that expertly drag against your gummy walls. You can feel his tip spreading you open, every burning curve and vein and ridge of his head as your pussy molds to him. But once your legs start shifting back for more, he speeds up the rocking of his hips, fucking you brainless on his cock. 

“How we feeling, princess?” he pants. He’s the only thing you can think about, mind scrambled from the white hot feel of being fucked so well.

He doesn’t have to ask to know - the string of heedless whimpers that you make are evidence enough, on top of the obscene squelches that echo every time he pounds into your sopping cunt. He pulls your wrists back from where they cling to the desk, white knuckled, to your sides. A strong arm snakes around your front, pinning your arms and waist close to his chest, caging you in while the other seeks purchase on your breast.

“F-Fuck, I- ah - so good, sir,” you sob, feeling your brain blank with the way his grip moves up to your neck, expertly pushing into the sides to cut off your blood flow. It’s dizzying, your pussy tightening around him for more.

And then he stops.

You’re about to whine, your walls fluttering around him, begging him to move, when his hand reaches to cover your mouth. He shushes you gently, snapping quietly towards the door. 

Someone is calling your name outside. “Hellooo? Hey Y/N, you over here?” It’s Yuuji, pacing the upper floor, walking straight down the hall and soon to pass the very door.

Your heart jolts in panic - why would he come looking for you? Why would anyone? The whole point of being out here was so that no one would come, right?

“Sorry to go back on my word, princess,” Gojo whispers. A wave of his hand creates a small masking barrier in front of the window, but it does nothing to hide the sound. “Gonna have to keep quiet for me. Can you do that?”

You nod your head, wiggling back against his hips pressed hard and unmoving to your ass. He pulls out slow and thrusts back, mindful of the noise of contact. It takes all your focus to bite back your moans.

“Don’t want your classmates seeing how slutty you are for a good fuck, do you? What if they walked in, saw you like this on your teacher’s cock?”

The thought has your hole constricting his length. You can already envision Yuuji’s shocked expression as he stares you down, his respected senior, nothing more than a babbling mess as Gojo Satoru fucks you raw in an empty classroom. The man behind you holds back a laugh.

The footsteps pass without the hint of something much filthier than extra help transpiring beyond the thin walls. You think you might have even seen a tuft of pink hair whizz by in the corner of your vision - whatever the matter, he’s gone, and you can finally catch your breath.

“Dirty girl,” Gojo rasps from behind you, slamming into you roughly, a sinister smile tugging at the corners of his lips while his fingers force themselves into your mouth, “you - hah - you fucking love it.” 

That spring in the base of your tummy starts to coil taut, rising faster than ever. “Love it,” you choke, stimulated tears forming at your lash line, “love it so much!”

His pace is relentless, your slick gushing all around him. He’s building you up just to break you down, the only one who can help you take the edge off.

“Tell me what you want,” he says through gritted teeth, “I’ll give it to you.”

Holding you tight to his chest with locked arms, he completely covers your body with his tall stature, inescapable and confining.

“Fuck, wanna - wanna cum so bad, so bad, sir.”

His large hand trails its way over your waist, soft fingers moving down, down, until they slip right over that little sensitive bundle at your front, cool and wet, that has your breath catching audibly in your throat. 

Gojo places his mouth just behind your ear, tone soft and sultry. The pad of his index finger rubs firm circles over your swollen, aching clit. It elicits a filthy sound from you that makes his cock twitch inside you. “Right there, huh?” He feels you clench as your legs tremble beneath him.

Your climax crashes over you in hot, unforgiving waves, tightening your walls and creaming all over every inch of his length. “Come on, give it all to teacher,” he encourages through heavy pants, making your skin prickle, and it’s just what you need. A chorus of loud, high pitched, breathless moans tumbles from your mouth as you ride it out. 

You’re drenching his fingers, making a mess as your squirt drips down and coats his cock, making him growl into your hair. He coaches you through it, stringing out his praises, “Just like that, mhm, good girl.”

His eyes fall shut as your cunt suffocates his cock, feeling his hips stutter as you suck him in. With a guttural, hungry groan, he’s burying his load in your waiting hole. He snaps against you once, twice more, hard and quick as he starts to come down.

A moment passes to catch your breaths, heartbeats beginning to slow in tandem. Gojo nuzzles his face into the back of your neck and sighs before placing an affectionate kiss there. 

Your legs are jelly beneath you so he’s careful when he releases his grasp, slowly turning you around to face him and sit back on the desk. 

“You alright?” he asks, wiping away the wetness under your eyes.

It’s safe to say that you’re relieved, in more ways than one. Your shoulders feel lighter and as does your chest, like everything you’ve been shackled to has been lifted off with a good fuck.

“Yeah, much better.” There’s a tired grin to your words.

He wipes away the sheen of sweat that has collected on his hairline and reaches over you to grab a few tissues off the desk. He’s gentle as he cleans you up, dabbing up sweat and cum from where it drips down your thighs. 

“You should get some rest. I’ll get you out of class tomorrow morning if you need it. Make up an excuse or something.” He pulls up his own trousers and helps you button up your top again, then lowering you back to the floor so you can be on your way.

“Let me know if you ever need any more assistance,” he winks, patting the top of your head. He smooths down a few stray hairs, putting you back together in at least a somewhat presentable way. “My help is always available to students that need it.”

Because while all that cursed energy may be under control, your relations are far from over.