#I did more stuff than usual this week so

[claritys-silly-things]

Something something Sunday, something something headcanon post

- Ponyboy loves mint chocolate chip ice cream, but dally hates it. He claims it tastes like toothpaste and every time he says this, the group has to hold pony back from attacking the guy (fair)

- (modern) Someone show the curtis brothers Steven universe sobs

- The curtis brothers have dimples and smile lines and other facial things. like Darry has crows feet and pony has worry lines on his forehead because I think it’s cool and I have those even though I am like. Young.

- What if Dallas had an older brother or someone that’s like how he is to Johnny but to Dallas and that person died and then his mom died and he hated his dad and had no reason to stay in New York so he left

- I just painted my nails with random ass old nail polish I found and every nail is a different color and I think that’s something cherry would do

- Pony, soda, and twobit are all double jointed in different areas of their body and they’ll just do shit to creep the rest of the guys out, especially dally and darry

- Dally is fine with gore n shit irl but cant handle weird body contorsions

- Johnny will randomly say the most horrifying things like “doesn’t everyone wish they could go to sleep and not wake up” and it just traumatizes ponyboy. Twobit is also like this but a bit more goofy. Pony ends up doing the same thing post-book but says it to sound like it’s a joke like two bit and when people tell him to stop he’s like “it’s true tho🧍🏽‍♂️”

- Since dally is so pale, he gets “red” so goddamn easily but he looks more pink. Every time he feels too much of any emotion, he’s pink. If it’s too hot he’s pink. Two bit makes fun of him for this and has been punched in the face at least twice for it. Pony is the same but that mf turns like BRIGHT red

- One sided dalbit bc Dallas is fucking aromantic but it’s funny for giggles and shits cuz twobitch just keeps embarrassing himself trying to flirt (vox and alastor core) (someone make a fic about this cries sobs)

- (Modern perchance) Pony is in like advanced classes n shit but fucking hates it. He’s still good at it and will cry if he gets a bad grade, but he doesn’t like it

- (Modern) Pony fucking hates Miguel O’Hara and is absolutely positively disgusted bc like half his friends simp so hard over that man (may or may not be based on me) (it is)

- two bit unironically believes so many conspiracy theories and spreads it to pony and Johnny

- I randomly made mozzarella sticks rn on a whim and soda would 100% impulse make food all the time and just figure out the recipe himself. It’s usually decent.

- Pony loves back to school season but hates actually going back. Like he likes the idea of going back to school and getting new school supplies, but within like, two days, he hates all his classes besides English

- Soda will burst out singing out a lot no matter where he is. Even at night. You can’t stop him (me)

- Rip sodapop you would’ve LOVED musical theater sobs

[loderlied]

sharing some thoughts about deactivating here because it’s been difficult pondering idk.

[fuck-kirk]

Wait i just saw your tags that your job is the "do list of tasks until complete then leave" type - what sort of job is it? Bc that sounds amazing tbh

I will say my job isn’t like this ALL the time…maybe like 50-60% of the time

I’m a “pottery operator” at a community art center—but essentially I’m the assistant to the main teacher. I also teach classes, but that’s only a few times a week. The rest of the time my boss gives me a check list of studio chores to do. She is often not there bc she owns her own gallery, so for example every Monday and Friday I spend the whole day just checking off tasks on a to-do list. Things like cleaning and organizing shelves and cupboards, loading kilns (which I LOVE to do, unironically), mix clay, prep clay and tools for lessons, etc etc… and then when I’m done, I can either “lesson plan” which is usually me looking at pintrist, writing a bit, or working on teacher samples to see how I would demo it (which is very fun to me) or I leave, because I get paid salary, so if the work is done I’m good

So basically it is literally the perfect job for me. The perfect mix of social interaction (and it’s usually with other artistic people), teaching (which I also love to do), and mentally and physically engaging but NOT back breaking menial tasks that I can just check off on a to-do list (and I usually listen to an audio book the whole time..)

So, like, a pretty niche kinda job I guess….but it’s seriously the perfect fit for me

[rosenbraut]

🌹Utena inspired🌹 - loving and moving my body this week

Monday. rise and shine yoga [13 mins] // fencing footwork at home practice [16 mins]

Tuesday. power pilates [15 mins]

Wednesday. neighbour-friendly ballet cardio [12 mins]

Thursday. Yoga sculpt [14 mins] // pilates for balance [13 mins]

Friday. beginner ballet cardio [10 mins] // deep stretch for beginners [24 mins]

Saturday. ballet pilates workout [20 mins]

Sunday. pilates for strength & flexibility [24 mins]

___

This week (24.06.-30.06.), I felt inspired to try something new: A selection of workouts inspired by the masterpiece that is Shōjo Kakumei Utena. The inspiration here wasn't the body image of 90s Shōjo, but rather the ways the characters move. The idea was to pretend that I was preparing to fight those hyper mannerist duels. Since I'm very limited in what I can do at home (no kendo, no fencing, not even basketball...) AND since the duels themselves are metaphorical kaleidoscopes of dance, fencing and freudian shenanigans, I picked a selection that combines factors that would go into this way: focusing on strength, flexibility and endurance, as well as balance, grace and control.

[mcalhenwrites]

Still alive, writing and editing a lot and even drawing (mostly dragon sketches at work). Seasons has some new chapters now... I saw something earlier about writing being something you can hone by doing lots of reading and writing. I wonder when that will apply to me. I've read a lot of books this year. I have almost hit my goal of 90 books, and while a couple are nonfiction and half are comics, the rest are novels. I expect that to increase again, now that I'm going back to the library. (I stopped with the bed bug scare.) Then I'm setting aside time each week to write. I work on stories at work, even if it's mostly just planning. (My laptop is falling apart so I just gave up taking it to work.) Yet here I am, still the same idiot who doesn't have anything appealing enough for most people to read. I can't get 99% of my followers interested. Sales of Geckos have dropped to next-to-nothing. Nothing else I put out there matters either. The fault lies with me. I'm not good enough. After having this stupid blog for 12 years, I want to delete it. I want to delete my twitter account. I want to delete every single account and shut up for good. There is nothing I can offer. My writing is a good hobby for me. I can get pats on the head for doing a little thing for myself. Aww, look at the cute little dumbass adult doing wittle storwies!!! Isn't that silly!!! They're not good, but he's having fun during the process. Too bad he hasn't figured out that not even 39 more years of practice can save what he's handing out.

[hana-bobo-finch]

jørgan clan my beloved. you guys are so messed up

[newtness532]

what is up with all the earthquakes lately??

[izzy-b-hands]

Got all excited last night bc i saw a post from a mod on the gta o subreddit abt the Halloween update being set to drop today around 5 AM (backed up by at least two gaming websites that had stories also stating the same start time and date)

Went in today ready for Halloween and uh. Nothing lol

Checked the actual Rockstar website and there's no mention of it, just that RDR o is getting a Halloween update this week

If i was a betting man I'd start a pool on how late in the month it'll be by the time the gta Halloween drops lmao

(also a pool on how likely it is the mod is lying; as they continue to insist they have access to all the usual Halloween stuff in GTA o today and that everyone who doesn't must not know how to restart their game to see if that changes anything, or maybe they didn't click play on GTA but a different game in their library? Which is insulting af, especially to the guy with the flare that shows he's at a level so high in the game that i frankly didn't know existed, who called them out and asked if maybe they didn't get confused and thought gta and rdr were both getting the update at the same time. Person was nice abt it, just asked plainly and said it was ok if that was the case, but that it would be helpful for others to know. poor dude immediately got piled on by the mod for it but like. he's right lmao. if that's the case it's fine! mistakes happen! but stop insisting you have access to something seemingly no one else trying to play online does!)

[zincbot]

first workout after top surgery had me flying high all day

[springcatalyst]

Song shuffle game

tagged by @hamburgerslippers thank u bestieeee I've been listening to SO much music lately because of work

Rules: shuffle your ‘on repeat’ playlist and post the first ten tracks, then tag ten people.

i'm sorry but you know i dont know 10 people. I would if I could

AHEM

1. Break by Three Days Grace <- FUCKING slaps

2. Monster by Starset

3. King by The Amazing Devil

4. Careful What You Wish For by Bad Omens

5. Icarus by Bastille

6. I Will Fail You by Demon Hunter

7. Wrong Side Of Heaven by Five Finger Death Punch

8. Riverbound by Comaduster

9. Ghosts by Nathan Wagner <- I think you'd like this guy hes very dramatic and I think his voice is neat

10. Me and Mine by The Brothers Bright

as always if anyone wants to do this literally just say I tagged u. do it. give me new music to listen to

[archaeren]

How I learned to write smarter, not harder

(aka, how to write when you're hella ADHD lol)

A reader commented on my current long fic asking how I write so well. I replied with an essay of my honestly pretty non-standard writing advice (that they probably didn't actually want lol) Now I'm gonna share it with you guys and hopefully there's a few of you out there who will benefit from my past mistakes and find some useful advice in here. XD Since I started doing this stuff, which are all pretty easy changes to absorb into your process if you want to try them, I now almost never get writer's block.

The text of the original reply is indented, and I've added some additional commentary to expand upon and clarify some of the concepts.

As for writing well, I usually attribute it to the fact that I spent roughly four years in my late teens/early 20s writing text roleplay with a friend for hours every single day. Aside from the constant practice that provided, having a live audience immediately reacting to everything I wrote made me think a lot about how to make as many sentences as possible have maximum impact so that I could get that kind of fun reaction. (Which is another reason why comments like yours are so valuable to fanfic writers! <3) The other factors that have improved my writing are thus: 1. Writing nonlinearly. I used to write a whole story in order, from the first sentence onward. If there was a part I was excited to write, I slogged through everything to get there, thinking that it would be my reward once I finished everything that led up to that. It never worked. XD It was miserable. By the time I got to the part I wanted to write, I had beaten the scene to death in my head imagining all the ways I could write it, and it a) no longer interested me and b) could not live up to my expectations because I couldn't remember all my ideas I'd had for writing it. The scene came out mediocre and so did everything leading up to it. Since then, I learned through working on VN writing (I co-own a game studio and we have some visual novels that I write for) that I don't have to write linearly. If I'm inspired to write a scene, I just write it immediately. It usually comes out pretty good even in a first draft! But then I also have it for if I get more ideas for that scene later, and I can just edit them in. The scenes come out MUCH stronger because of this. And you know what else I discovered? Those scenes I slogged through before weren't scenes I had no inspiration for, I just didn't have any inspiration for them in that moment! I can't tell you how many times there was a scene I had no interest in writing, and then a week later I'd get struck by the perfect inspiration for it! Those are scenes I would have done a very mediocre job on, and now they can be some of the most powerful scenes because I gave them time to marinate. Inspiration isn't always linear, so writing doesn't have to be either!

Some people are the type that joyfully write linearly. I have a friend like this--she picks up the characters and just continues playing out the next scene. Her story progresses through the entire day-by-day lives of the characters; it never timeskips more than a few hours. She started writing and posting just eight months ago, she's about an eighth of the way through her planned fic timeline, and the content she has so far posted to AO3 for it is already 450,000 words long. But most of us are normal humans. We're not, for the most part, wired to create linearly. We consume linearly, we experience linearly, so we assume we must also create linearly. But actually, a lot of us really suffer from trying to force ourselves to create this way, and we might not even realize it. If you're the kind of person who thinks you need to carrot-on-a-stick yourself into writing by saving the fun part for when you finally write everything that happens before it: Stop. You're probably not a linear writer. You're making yourself suffer for no reason and your writing is probably suffering for it. At least give nonlinear writing a try before you assume you can't write if you're not baiting or forcing yourself into it!! Remember: Writing is fun. You do this because it's fun, because it's your hobby. If you're miserable 80% of the time you're doing it, you're probably doing it wrong!

2. Rereading my own work. I used to hate reading my own work. I wouldn't even edit it usually. I would write it and slap it online and try not to look at it again. XD Writing nonlinearly forced me to start rereading because I needed to make sure scenes connected together naturally and it also made it easier to get into the headspace of the story to keep writing and fill in the blanks and get new inspiration. Doing this built the editing process into my writing process--I would read a scene to get back in the headspace, dislike what I had written, and just clean it up on the fly. I still never ever sit down to 'edit' my work. I just reread it to prep for writing and it ends up editing itself. Many many scenes in this fic I have read probably a dozen times or more! (And now, I can actually reread my own work for enjoyment!) Another thing I found from doing this that it became easy to see patterns and themes in my work and strengthen them. Foreshadowing became easy. Setting up for jokes or plot points became easy. I didn't have to plan out my story in advance or write an outline, because the scenes themselves because a sort of living outline on their own. (Yes, despite all the foreshadowing and recurring thematic elements and secret hidden meanings sprinkled throughout this story, it actually never had an outline or a plan for any of that. It's all a natural byproduct of writing nonlinearly and rereading.)

Unpopular writing opinion time: You don't need to make a detailed outline.

Some people thrive on having an outline and planning out every detail before they sit down to write. But I know for a lot of us, we don't know how to write an outline or how to use it once we've written it. The idea of making one is daunting, and the advice that it's the only way to write or beat writer's block is demoralizing. So let me explain how I approach "outlining" which isn't really outlining at all.

I write in a Notion table, where every scene is a separate table entry and the scene is written in the page inside that entry. I do this because it makes writing nonlinearly VASTLY more intuitive and straightforward than writing in a single document. (If you're familiar with Notion, this probably makes perfect sense to you. If you're not, imagine something a little like a more contained Google Sheets, but every row has a title cell that opens into a unique Google Doc when you click on it. And it's not as slow and clunky as the Google suite lol) (Edit from the future: I answered an ask with more explanation on how I use Notion for non-linear writing here.) When I sit down to begin a new fic idea, I make a quick entry in the table for every scene I already know I'll want or need, with the entries titled with a couple words or a sentence that describes what will be in that scene so I'll remember it later. Basically, it's the most absolute bare-bones skeleton of what I vaguely know will probably happen in the story.

Then I start writing, wherever I want in the list. As I write, ideas for new scenes and new connections and themes will emerge over time, and I'll just slot them in between the original entries wherever they naturally fit, rearranging as necessary, so that I won't forget about them later when I'm ready to write them. As an example, my current long fic started with a list of roughly 35 scenes that I knew I wanted or needed, for a fic that will probably be around 100k words (which I didn't know at the time haha). As of this writing, it has expanded to 129 scenes. And since I write them directly in the page entries for the table, the fic is actually its own outline, without any additional effort on my part. As I said in the comment reply--a living outline!

This also made it easier to let go of the notion that I had to write something exactly right the first time. (People always say you should do this, but how many of us do? It's harder than it sounds! I didn't want to commit to editing later! I didn't want to reread my work! XD) I know I'm going to edit it naturally anyway, so I can feel okay giving myself permission to just write it approximately right and I can fix it later. And what I found from that was that sometimes what I believed was kind of meh when I wrote it was actually totally fine when I read it later! Sometimes the internal critic is actually wrong. 3. Marinating in the headspace of the story. For the first two months I worked on [fic], I did not consume any media other than [fandom the fic is in]. I didn't watch, read, or play anything else. Not even mobile games. (And there wasn't really much fan content for [fandom] to consume either. Still isn't, really. XD) This basically forced me to treat writing my story as my only source of entertainment, and kept me from getting distracted or inspired to write other ideas and abandon this one.

As an aside, I don't think this is a necessary step for writing, but if you really want to be productive in a short burst, I do highly recommend going on a media consumption hiatus. Not forever, obviously! Consuming media is a valuable tool for new inspiration, and reading other's work (both good and bad, as long as you think critically to identify the differences!) is an invaluable resource for improving your writing.

When I write, I usually lay down, close my eyes, and play the scene I'm interested in writing in my head. I even take a ten-minute nap now and then during this process. (I find being in a state of partial drowsiness, but not outright sleepiness, makes writing easier and better. Sleep helps the brain process and make connections!) Then I roll over to the laptop next to me and type up whatever I felt like worked for the scene. This may mean I write half a sentence at a time between intervals of closed-eye-time XD

People always say if you're stuck, you need to outline.

What they actually mean by that (whether they realize it or not) is that if you're stuck, you need to brainstorm. You need to marinate. You don't need to plan what you're doing, you just need to give yourself time to think about it!

What's another framing for brainstorming for your fic? Fantasizing about it! Planning is work, but fantasizing isn't.

You're already fantasizing about it, right? That's why you're writing it. Just direct that effort toward the scenes you're trying to write next! Close your eyes, lay back, and fantasize what the characters do and how they react.

And then quickly note down your inspirations so you don't forget, haha.

And if a scene is so boring to you that even fantasizing about it sucks--it's probably a bad scene.

If it's boring to write, it's going to be boring to read. Ask yourself why you wanted that scene. Is it even necessary? Can you cut it? Can you replace it with a different scene that serves the same purpose but approaches the problem from a different angle? If you can't remove the troublesome scene, what can you change about it that would make it interesting or exciting for you to write?

And I can't write sitting up to save my damn life. It's like my brain just stops working if I have to sit in a chair and stare at a computer screen. I need to be able to lie down, even if I don't use it! Talking walks and swinging in a hammock are also fantastic places to get scene ideas worked out, because the rhythmic motion also helps our brain process. It's just a little harder to work on a laptop in those scenarios. XD

In conclusion: Writing nonlinearly is an amazing tool for kicking writer's block to the curb. There's almost always some scene you'll want to write. If there isn't, you need to re-read or marinate.

Or you need to use the bathroom, eat something, or sleep. XD Seriously, if you're that stuck, assess your current physical condition. You might just be unable to focus because you're uncomfortable and you haven't realized it yet.

Anyway! I hope that was helpful, or at least interesting! XD Sorry again for the text wall. (I think this is the longest comment reply I've ever written!)

And same to you guys on tumblr--I hope this was helpful or at least interesting. XD Reblogs appreciated if so! (Maybe it'll help someone else!)

[enterstellars]

and with that i do believe that my run with interstellar in imax has come to an end.

[ryoflix]

sukuna tries to be a better dad | f. reader, s/h prns., resolved angst and fluff, estb. rl, mentions of toxic masculinity and bullying ؛ ଓ

it’s late afternoon when she says it.

you’re sitting on the floor, your girl in front of you, legs crossed, hands in her lap, shoulders straight — because she likes it when you do her hair neat, “like a princess who also fights battles.” your fingers work through her thick strands, slow and patient, braiding from the crown down as the golden light spills in through the window.

she’s quiet today. not her usual humming self.

“mama,” she says softly, not looking up. “do you think daddy doesn’t like dancing?”

you pause mid-braid. “what makes you say that, baby?”

she shrugs like it’s practiced. like she’s been doing it all day. “it’s just… other daddies come up on stage and spin their kids around. and they clap and wave and stuff. daddy just crosses his arms and watches. he doesn’t even smile much.”

your heart sinks a little. she’s not pouting, not upset. she says it like a fact. a tiny, unpolished truth she’s been holding quietly in her chest.

“he always comes, though,” she adds, quickly, like she’s defending him. “he never misses anything. and he carries my costume bag. and he sits in the front. i know daddy likes me.”

your fingers still in her hair. you lean down and press a soft kiss to the top of her head. “he loves you more than anything in the world,” you whisper. “but i think sometimes, he forgets how to show it.”

what you don’t realize is that sukuna’s standing in the hallway just around the corner. he was passing by, only wanting a glass of water. but now he’s leaning against the wall, head bowed slightly, eyes half-lidded and tight. his daughter’s voice is soft, but it might as well be thunder in his chest.

he remembers the event she’s talking about. the dad-daughter social. balloons and tiaras and a tiny glittery stage. the other fathers with their daughters on their shoulders, giving big hugs and taking selfies. he remembers standing there, arms crossed, heart pounding with so much affection it ached, but feeling like a brick wall in the middle of a rainbow field.

he didn’t know what to do. didn’t want to embarrass her. didn’t want to get it wrong.

he hadn’t realized silence could hurt, too.

—

the next week, at her school band recital, it’s different.

the auditorium is full. folding chairs in neat rows, kids in matching little uniforms, some with scuffed shoes or crooked ties. you’re seated in the second row, camcorder balanced on your knee. and sukuna? sukuna’s standing.

in the aisle.

arms crossed at first, like always. until the curtains pull back and your daughter walks onto stage, gripping her clarinet, eyes scanning the crowd. she spots you first, then him.

and that’s when he moves.

sukuna throws his arms into the air like he’s in a coliseum. “there she is!”

a few heads turn. a teacher flinches. someone claps hesitantly.

“look at her! MY kid! kick their asses!”

“sukuna,” you hiss.

“with MUSIC,” he clarifies, before bellowing, “BLOW THAT CLARINET LIKE IT OWES YOU MONEY!”

your daughter’s face flushes crimson — but there’s a tiny smile twitching at the corners of her mouth.

when the song begins, sukuna stays standing. arms crossed again, but this time it’s intentional. protective. loud in silence. and when the music ends, he claps louder than anyone. you catch your daughter glancing at him as she walks offstage, her expression unreadable for just a second.

and later that night, as you're tucking her in, she whispers, “daddy was really loud today.” you smile, brushing a curl off her forehead. “did you like it?”

she nods, a little bashful. “...yeah. i liked it.”

from the hallway, sukuna leans against the doorframe — quiet now. arms no longer crossed. but in his hand, he’s holding the program from the recital. and folded inside it is the little flower she wore on her lapel.

he doesn’t say a word. he just watches her fall asleep like she’s the only thing that ever mattered.

the drive back from practice is quiet, unusually so.

your boy’s sitting in the backseat, hunched forward with his little forearms braced on his knees, shin guards still on, cleats unlaced. he’s picking at a thread on his sock like it personally offended him. sukuna glances in the rearview mirror.

“you mad you didn’t score?”

no answer. just a shrug. not his usual one, either. this one’s limp. low.

sukuna keeps driving, one hand on the wheel, the other resting on the window ledge. the silence itches. it’s not the kind he’s good at. this one crawls. he doesn’t push, not yet. he waits until they’re parked out front — engine still running, AC humming low — before he says, “talk to me.”

his son fiddles with the strap of his water bottle. his voice comes out small.

“the other boys… they said i was slow. and weak.”

sukuna turns in his seat. his son stares down at his shoes, frowning so hard his little brows knit in a mirror of his father’s own scowl. “they say i don’t hit hard enough. or run fast enough. they call me babyface. they laugh when i mess up. and i wanna tell them to shut up but… i just…”

he shrinks, right there in the backseat, like he’s folding into himself.

“...i get scared.”

and there it is.

the one thing sukuna didn’t think he’d hear from his son. not because it’s wrong, not because he doesn’t know fear. but because he’s sukuna, and his boy wants nothing more than to be just like him.

he knows that.

he’s seen the way the kid walks after him — chin up, chest puffed out, copying his strut. the way he tries to talk tough. the way he tries not to cry when he scrapes his knee, like showing pain would disappoint him.

and that realization stings.

sukuna exhales, slow and long, and twists around in his seat, arm slung over the headrest now, voice dropping low — not rough, not barking, not what the world hears from him.

“look at me.”

the boy lifts his eyes. sukuna stares back, steady.

“being scared,” he says, “means you care. means something matters to you. your body gets small so you can protect what’s big inside.”

his son blinks, frowning in confusion. sukuna smirks, just a little. leans closer.

“you think i’m not scared sometimes?”

“...you?”

“hell yeah. i was scared the day you were born. scared when your sister got sick. scared when i almost dropped your mom’s glass bowl.”

the boy huffs a tiny laugh at that.

“but i don’t let that fear decide for me. and neither should you.”

his son stares, quiet.

“you don’t need to punch back to be strong,” sukuna continues, voice firmer now. “you don’t need to yell to be heard. and you don’t need to stop feeling things just to be a man.”

a pause.

“you wanna make me proud?” sukuna leans in further, eyes sharp but kind. “then be honest with yourself. with how you feel. that takes guts. more than throwing a football ever will.”

and then, reaching out, sukuna ruffles his son’s hair — the kind of thing he doesn’t do often, but means more than it shows. your son’s eyes glisten, but he nods.

“...can i still hit them if they don’t stop?”

“if they touch you,” sukuna mutters, straightening up and shifting gears, “you make them see god.”

his son snickers.

as they pull into the driveway, the boy glances at him, hesitates, and then says, “...you’re, like… a good dad.”

sukuna smirks, tight-lipped.

“yeah, well. don’t tell anyone.”

“i already told mom.”

“snitch.”

“dad.”

“…yeah?”

“...i’m not slow. i just got short legs.”

“damn right you do. now get in the house, babyface.”

and the laugh that erupts from the kid is the kind that makes sukuna grip the steering wheel just a little harder. so he doesn’t show too much.

but he’ll remember this one.

[izzy-b-hands]

I keep forgetting I can't seem to get the current version of xkit to work on my new laptop and going to do stuff that it let me do fjldksafjdlsaj

[missdynamighttt]

hehehe sooo.. pro hero, husband! katsuki not being able to spend time with you took a toll on his agency, so someone said... you two needed to bone.

it had been weeks since katsuki had a proper night at home. pro hero work never let up but lately, it felt like it was eating him—late nights at the agency, barely any sleep, reports, patrols, meetings.

you understood. it was his job, his responsibility, but his stress showed in the way he snapped at people more often, his fuse shorter than usual.

and today? he was especially pissed.

the whole office refused to confront dynamight about it, until some dumbass sidekick, probably sick of his rage-fueled outbursts, muttered under his breath, “tch. man just needs to go home and bone his wife.”

the room went silent.

dead silent.

katsuki stopped mid-step, shoulders going rigid. his head turned slowly toward him, eyes burning like he was about to set the entire building on fire.

"the fuck did you just say?"

the sidekick, to his credit, had the audacity to look innocent. "i mean, you’re obviously tense, and i'm sure she’s—"

he lunged at him. it took three other sidekicks to hold him back as he damn near flipped his desk over.

“YOU'RE FUCKIN' DEAD! BONE?!” katsuki roared, struggling against his coworkers like a wild animal. "say that shit again, i dare you! you think i’m pissed ‘cause i ain’t fucking my wife enough?!”

the whole agency floor collectively held its breath.

the poor sidekick scrambled for an excuse. “n-no! i-i just meant—uh, stress relief! yeah! y’know, intimacy is good for—”

katsuki grabbed a random clipboard and hurled it across him. he missed by a centimeter. “you think i don’t wanna fuckin' go home to her?! huh?!”

“sir—”

“i wanna go home so bad! i wanna see her, i wanna kiss her, i wanna lay on her tits and sleep for the whole fuckin’ day,” he ranted, voice cracking from pure frustration. “BUT NOOO! i’m stuck here writing reports and dealing with dumbasses like you!”

the office was dead silent.

it took a solid ten minutes for him to cool down, grumbling and seething as he rubbed his temples.

but his mind did wander.

to you. to the way he missed your voice. to how fucking long it had been since he held you properly.

to the way he always found you asleep by the time he got home, curled up on his side of the bed, waiting for him.

… fuck. maybe the sidekick did have a point.

katsuki inhaled sharply. then, with wild determination, he grabbed his his stuff, and stormed toward the exit. the agency could handle itself for the night. he had better things to do.

“fuck this. i'm goin' home to my wife."

meanwhile, you had barely settled on the couch, ready to enjoy a quiet evening alone, when the front door slammed open. you jolted, turning toward the entrance just in time to see katsuki storming in—looking like a man on a mission.

“katsu—” you barely got his name out before his mouth crashed onto yours, hot and urgent, like he’d been starving for this. you gripped his shirt as he pulled you impossibly close, practically lifting you off the floor.

you gasped against his lips as his hands cupped your cheeks, tilting your head as he deepened the kiss, pressing his body against yours.

strong hands cupped your face, rough but desperate. his lips were everywhere—your cheeks, your nose, your jaw, the corner of your lips—like he was making up for lost time.

and when he finally let you breathe, his forehead pressed against yours, panting slightly, his hands still gripping your waist like he was afraid you’d disappear.

you were breathless, blinking up at him in shock. “what the hell?”

katsuki exhaled sharply, his forehead resting against yours. “i missed you.”

your brows furrowed. “you left for work this morning.”

“exactly,” his lips brushed against yours again, softer this time. “should’ve come home sooner.”

it was then you realized—he was home way earlier than usual. normally, he'd get caught up in work, buried in reports or dealing with patrols, but tonight…

“wait, why are you home so early?” you asked, still dazed.

katsuki huffed. his fingers slid down to your waist, gripping you tightly. “tch. dumbass sidekick at work said i just needed to fuck my wife to fix my attitude.”

your jaw dropped. “excuse me?”

his lips brushed yours again, softer this time. “so i left early to prove ‘em right.”

your face burned. “katsuki!”

but he was already leaning in again, smirking against your lips. “better get comfortable, sweets. i’m makin’ up for lost time.”

and when katsuki stepped into the office that morning, something was… off.

for the first time in weeks, he didn’t stomp in with a permanent scowl, barking at everyone the second he crossed the threshold. his usual sharp glare was dulled, his shoulders weren’t tense as tense.

instead, katsuki looked, dare they say it—relaxed. his jaw wasn’t clenched, his brows weren’t furrowed, and the usual aggressive boom of his steps was noticeably tamer.

hell, the man even had a post-nut glow so obvious. skin clear, posture loose, and zero unnecessary shouting.

no explosions. no immediate death threats. no one getting yelled at for breathing too loud.

everyone noticed.

by the time he made it to his desk, his coworkers were already exchanging looks, whispering amongst themselves like they’d just seen a miracle.

"uh…" one of his sidekicks was the first to cautiously approach. “sir. you good?”

katsuki just grunted, rolling his shoulders before cracking his neck. “feelin’ great, actually.”

and that’s when it clicked. a murmur spread through the office as realization slammed into them.

“you boned last night,” he stated, like it was the discovery of the century.

katsuki just smirked, grabbing some files off his desk. “what’s it to ya?”

the room erupted.

“holy shit, i forgot he could be normal—”

“i haven’t known peace in months.”

“oh my god, mrs bakugo katsuki, if you can hear this—thank you for your service!”

someone started clapping.

then, the entire office cheered.

‎‧₊˚✧[ it's me, kia ! ]✧˚₊‧ ｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ ‎‧₊˚✧[ more of katsuki ! ]✧˚₊‧

⋆˚࿔ kia's note ˚⋆ i think y'all know where this is inspired from but js in case, its from a sitcom named brooklyn 99 where this girl tells her boss he needs to bone his husband lmao😭 hope yall enjoyed!!

[marlynnofmany]

In the interest of not derailing this already-long-and-awesome thread, here are some more details! (Paging @sparrows-corner and any other interested parties.)

So in my first semester of college, I took an Intro to Psychology class. I didn't expect anything special; it was just one of those general education courses that everybody was supposed to take at some point. But it turned out amazing.

What the general public didn't know at that point was someone in the college administration had screwed up and forgotten to assign a teacher to this class. Until a week before class. When several students emailed to ask why that detail was missing in the online listing.

The administration panicked, scrambled for someone-anyone-omg-who-can-drop-everything-and-teach-this-class. They called recently-graduated owners of Masters Degrees in teaching.

They found Sandy.

She was qualified and available, and much older than the average recent grad, with the confidence to go with it. This was still a daunting task, though, and she agreed on one condition: that she team-teach the class with a friend of hers who was still working on finishing his degree.

Having no other choice and seeing no real problem with this, the administration agreed. And thus was born the most glorious educational comedy act in my entire academic career. The two of them were a delight. They knew all the stuff they needed to teach, and they knew a great deal more, and they delivered lectures in a way that had everyone paying eager attention. It was great.

This friend, by the way, was awesome in his own right. While Sandy was a curly-haired white lady around middle age, Wayne was a black guy who (1) dressed in impeccable suits and (2) had cerebral palsy.

I think a lot of 18-year-old minds were quietly enlightened about a few things just from watching these two banter back and forth, one with joints more wobbly than the other. Wayne told a memorable anecdote at one point about stopping by a grocery store in sweat pants instead of his usual classy wear. The cashier asked some gentle question about what he spent his time on, assuming that he had some sort of carer following him around. The expression on her face when he told her that he taught college was one I'll never forget, and I didn't even see it.

Anyways, at the end of this semester, the two teachers asked a few of us smart kids if we wanted to be TAs (teaching assistants) for the next semester. Since most of us had already become friends during the make-a-group-and-discuss-things portions of the class, this sounded like a party that would look good on our records later. And it really was.

I TA'd for that class a few times in a row, with my buddies and the two very cool teachers. We met up outside of class for holiday parties and everything.

And, since this was during the time the Lord of the Rings trilogy was first coming out in theaters, we all dressed up in costume and went to an early screening together.

Wayne drove. His handicap placard meant we got to park at the front, which was pretty awesome.

Now, I'd met people before who knew more LotR lore than I did, but they all paled in comparison to Sandy. As I said in the notes on that other post, she shared some stories of her youth with us. When she was fourteen, she ran away to join a hippie commune. She already knew fluent elvish, and she used that to help the commune's drug-runners stay out of the clutches of the cops, by translating their drug notes into a language the cops couldn't read. With a start like that, it was unsurprising that she still knew elvish now, along with all sorts of fascinating deep lore.

She had a limited edition book that looked shockingly expensive. She made beeswax candles for all the TAs as holiday gifts, with our names written on them in elvish. I still have mine somewhere.

I haven't heard from any of these lovely people in a long time, since college moves on and so does life, but I will treasure those memories forever. I hope Sandy and Wayne and the others are doing well. They deserve the best.