#IT FEELS REALLY MEAN SPLITTING THEM UP. YOU KNOW???

[weirdmarioenemies]

MARIO KART 9 RETRO PREDICTIONS!

That's right! Ever since like, a month ago, we've received official confirmation that we're getting a new Mario Kart game that isn't Mario Kart Tour! Rejoice!

Yes, it's an exciting time to be a Mario Kart fan. After all, a new game means new courses, new drivers, new items, new gameplay mechanics, and all that jazz! I mean, 24-player races in the fantastical world of Utah? That's some exciting stuff!

But almost just as exciting as the new courses are the new old courses, especially when considering how much Mario Kart 8 spruced them up! Also, it's just way easier to to predict returning courses than new courses. Look: I don't have a time machine shaped like a crystal ball. I could say "Oh yeah, Mario Kart 9 will definitely have a new course called Toad's Wastewater Treatment Plant," but I'd just be making that up. I don't have a source! I can't show you the bibliography! I'm sorry.

Not that I can completely accurately predict retro courses either. Look, I can be as methodical as I please, but I don't work at Nintemdo. We know next to nothing about this game, so all my predictions are really just shots in the dark here! But it's fun to load a gun and haphazardly shoot bullets in a cave! Who knows! Maybe we'll end up shooting some of the retro courses that will be in Mario Kart 9!

My dearest condolences to Toad's Factory.

Retro predictions begin under the cut!

Oh wow, you thought we were gonna get straight into the retro predicting? How does it feel to be The Fool right now, The Fool?

Really though, I just want to get all methodologologilical[sic] first. Just get out some of the key assumptions I'm making so you can better understand why I've made the choices I've made. Alright? Cool. Cool.

I'm assuming there will be 48 courses in the base game, and by extension, 24 retro courses split across six cups. Given the goal of this game is to move people to the Nintendo Switch 2, and every Nintendo Switch 1 owner and their mother and their mother's dog owns a copy of Mario Kart 8 Deluxe, going from 96 courses to a mere 32 courses feels like a considerable downgrade. Given that Mario Kart 8 Deluxe has 48 courses without the DLC, this feels like a good baseline going forwards.

I'm not sure what to make of the mainline status of Mario Kart Tour. I'm leaning towards it being technically mainline, due to its content being ported to Mario Kart 8 Deluxe, but it's definitely not a traditional Mario Kart game. So I will be including courses from it in my predictions, but courses that have only returned in Tour are basically on the same level of priority as courses that have never returned at all to me. Speaking of which...

I plan on prioritizing courses that have never returned, but I'm not going to exclusively limit myself to courses that have never returned. We're reaching a point where some games are really slim pickings for retro course options if we're only considering ones that have never returned, and given Nintendo has shown they're comfortable with double-dipping in places like Mario Kart 8's DLC and Mario Kart Tour, I think it's safe to say Mario Kart 64 won't be dragged out back and shot after they bring back Wario Stadium.

HOWEVER, I will NOT include any courses that have returned in Mario Kart 8!* This does include the Booster Course Pass for reference, so I apologize to any courses that were given underwhelming remakes there. Someday you'll get the remake you deserve, Sky Garden. Courses that originated in Mario Kart 8 are still fair game, but given that again, the goal is to move people to the new console, you probably don't want too many courses they can already play on the game they most certainly already have. Don't worry about the asterisk yet. We'll get there when we get there.

And as for more general goals, I'm looking for solid aesthetic diversity, a respectable difficulty curve, and a decent balance between games. None of these are really hard rules, since everybody will define them differently, and the exact amount they matter is hard to judge. I mean, I would like to keep the games relatively balanced, but it makes sense why the Booster Course Pass has eight Wii courses and two SNES courses. This is because Wii courses tend to be "pretty damn fun", as opposed to SNES courses which tend to be "utter dogwater".

Fun factor is also an important thing to keep in mind here. Why waste precious development time on bringing back courses nobody wants? I'm sorry, but no amount of spit-shine will ever save Figure-8 Circuit.

Okay, I think that's about everything. Now we can get into the part of the post you probably actually care about: predicting the retro courses!

SHELL CUP

Wii Luigi Circuit

Ah, the classic "boring starting course". Boring starter courses are interesting, because they brought back like 50 of these in Mario Kart DS, but ever since Nintendo has kinda been avoiding these like the plague. Unfortunately, now we've kinda reached a point where for games with slim pickings, "boring starter courses" are some of the only courses they have left. I feel like we're gonna have to bite the bullet at some point and bring one of these back, so it may as well be Wii Luigi Circuit.

Also motivating this pick is the return of the Luigi Tires sponsor, which was featured on this track back in Mario Kart Wii! Obviously this is a pretty minor connection, but I kinda get the feeling the reason they'd bring a sponsor like this back is if they're also bringing back a course that featured it. Ultimately this is what gave it the edge to me over Figure-8 Circuit. Well that, and the fact that there's no reason to spend development time on Figure-8 Circuit over literally any course that isn't Figure-8 Circuit.

3DS Daisy Hills

Daisy Hills! I don't really have a ton to say on this one. Its "alpine village where a young witch would look for a lost cat" setting is fairly unique by the standards of early-game courses, and given the list of courses that have never returned consist largely of mid-to-late game courses and "boring circuit tracks", having a course like this feels like a good pick.

SNES Koopa Beach 1

I would like to take a moment to curse Super Mario Kart for not having interesting course themes. It becomes a pain to pick specific courses from a game where literally every course theme has better alternatives from other games. Because when I'm prioritizing aesthetic diversity, picking a boring Super Mario Kart track is kind of by extension shutting out the better options from other games, right?

So figuring out what courses from this game to pick was basically a game of figuring out which theme had the most acceptable losses, and I concluded it was probably the beach courses. Apologies to Cheep Cheep Lagoon and Cheep-Cheep Island, but neither of you is interesting enough to warrant not picking an SNES course over you. And actual sincere apologies to Dolphin Shoals!

MK8 Sweet Sweet Canyon

Rounding out our Shell Cup, we have our first returning course from Mario Kart 8! Given Mario Kart 8 is ripe for the picking, it's likely we'll see a solid handful of courses from it, and since Nintendo tends to avoid putting multiple courses from the same game in a single cup, my choices are gonna have to be spread out across the difficulty curve.

Sweet Sweet Canyon isn't really one of my favorite of Mario Kart 8's original courses, but as an early game course with very unique theming, it feels like a pretty safe pick for a Priority Retro course to me. There's not really any thematic competition for "courses made of candy"! My only hope is that if my predictions are accurate and they do bring back this specific course, that they brighten up the color palette a bit. The amount of detail here is gorgeous, but the colors have always felt slightly too drab for the theming to me.

Also yes, I'm using "MK8" as the abbreviation for returning Mario Kart 8 courses and not "Wii U". I know that typically the abbreviation is based on the console and not the name of the game, but given the existence of Mario Kart 8 Deluxe, the fact it has battle courses unique to it that should probably be put under the same label, and the fact Nintendo probably wants to acknowledge the Wii U as little as possible, I think using "MK8" as the abbreviation feels like the right call.

BANANA CUP

DS Delfino Square

Given Mario Kart DS's options for courses that have never returned are "starting circuit", "Bowser's Castle", and "Rainbow Road", and all of those are competitive slots, I think it's likely we'll see a bit of double-dipping for this game. That's probably a good thing, because DS has some awesome courses that aren't in Mario Kart 8!

Case in point: Delfino Square, which feels like one of the most-requested courses I saw for the Booster Course Pass that never got added. But maybe we should be grateful, because now it can be saved for a remake with good graphics! I've been a big fan of this course ever since I was a kid, mostly because of the music (which I'd love to hear a live arrangement of!), but the course itself is pretty cool too I guess. Glider ramp on the drawbridge whenever it's up? Would that work?

N64 Frappe Snowland

Mario Kart 64 is another game that's slim pickings in terms of "courses that have never returned at all". Given I'm trying to include at least two courses from every game here, picking another N64 course was kind of a challenge. Most of the picks I would've gone for are in Mario Kart 8 already, because if not for the Booster Course Pass, Choco Mountain and Kalimari Desert would've definitely been in the running. And lots of the other choices that felt decent, like DK's Jungle Parkway or Banshee Boardwalk, have alternatives in other games that felt higher priority.

So I'm going with Frappe Snowland. This course hasn't really been in a traditional Mario Kart game since Mario Kart DS, so I think it feels like a solid candidate to get another remake. I mean, it's a pretty generic snow course as-is, so it might be due to get a modern reimagining. I'm imagining a cozy little winter town near the starting line, maybe having some similar vibes to the winter variant of Animal Crossing.

Do you pronounce it "frap" or "fra-pay"? I'm in the fra-pay camp but I'm pretty sure the other one might technically be correct due to the lack of accent over the e, but I'm also not sure if that's so much a hint of the pronunciation so much as "leaving off the accent for convenience sake". Both are technically valid I'm pretty sure, so I won't fight you if you're in frap camp. I promise.

Wii Toad's Factory

Look. If there's one course I would put actual real money on being in the next game, I think it's Toad's Factory. Yes! Even over the courses from games that literally have only one course that has never returned! Wario Stadium is boring and faces competition from Wario Colosseum, and I'm not sure to what extent Tour counts as mainline as far as Piranha Plant Pipeline is concerned, but Toad's Factory? I can't think of a reason you wouldn't bring this one back.

It's one of the only courses from Mario Kart Wii that has never returned, it's a fan-favorite course, it's an early-game course with unique theming when "courses that have never returned" tend to skew late-game, not to mention that Mario Kart Wii is a favorite game for fans and Nintendo alike. Literally the only reason I can imagine Mario Kart 9 not having Toad's Factory is if Mario Kart 9 doesn't have retro courses at all. That, or if my methodology is way, way off. But like, Nintendo knows what courses fans like! They have to see the demand for Toad's Factory, right?

3DS Shy Guy Bazaar

Look. I'm gonna come forwards and say it: I'm pretty sure this course is what we in the industry would call "orientalist as hell". I'm definitely not the most qualified person to speak on this subject, but given what I have heard from people who are, it's very much giving me the vibes of "mystical, vaguely Arabic desert kingdom" that all of us should frankly be tired of seeing at this point. This isn't really a course I think I want to see brought back.

But this isn't a wishlist. This is Predictions, and unfortunately I do not have the faith in Nintendo to Not Be Orientalist, considering how much this sort of thing has continued into even their most recent output. And like, as far as the things I am prioritizing when I make my list go, I'm pretty sure Shy Guy Bazaar checks all the boxes. It has unique theming, and datamining suggests it was very nearly put in Mario Kart 8. I think this one feels like a shoo-in, even if I don't really want it to be.

FEATHER CUP

That's right! More retro courses means I have to predict new retro cups as well! I think the Feather Cup feels like a good retro cup choice, since its presence as an item in Super Mario Kart and its absence from most later Mario Kart games gives it a distinctly "retro" feel.

Oh, and speaking of Super Mario Kart...

SNES Mario Circuit 4

For a long time, I saw people question why Nintendo would bring back the Mario Circuits so much compared to other SNES courses with more distinct theming. After all, if you're going to have to dedicate a slot or two to SNES courses, you might want to pick the less boring themes, right...? But while this sounds like a logical train of thought, I think I have since seen the light of day. The reason they bring back the Mario Circuits is because they can get away with being boring.

Because the Mario Circuits can pass off their "being boring" as being like, a retro thing, right? Like, you can try to make an interesting rendition of Donut Plains or whatever, but ultimately you're just putting lipstick on a pig. Donut Plains 3 is always gonna be one of the most boring courses in Mario Kart 8, even with a gorgeous graphical overhaul! The Mario Circuits, by virtue of being thematically boring, don't have to pretend they are anything more than what they are: boring SNES courses.

...I'd still like them to do something interesting with Mario Circuit 4 though. I mean, GBA Mario Circuit got an anti-gravity U-turn. It's worth a shot.

MK8 Sunshine Airport

Something you need to know about me is that "me making retro course predictions for Mario Kart 9" is NOT a new thing. I've been doing this basically ever since Mario Kart 8 came out over a decade ago, and ever since then I have felt reasonably confident in one thing: I think Sunshine Airport is gonna be one of the first Mario Kart 8 courses they bring back.

Literally everything about Sunshine Airport feels like a "priority retro course" to me, in the same vein as Coconut Mall or Music Park. Unique theming? Check. A level of complexity that gives it flexible positioning on a difficulty curve? Check. Approval from the fans? Check. Hell, even if Nintendo decides not to bring back anti-gravity, this course doesn't need it! All it amounts to here is one singular turn where the anti-gravity feels shoehorned in to begin with!

It feels weird to be so, so confident in a Mario Kart 8 pick when literally every original course from that game is an option, like I can't say I'm confident in Sunshine Airport to the same degree I'm confident in like, Toad's Factory or Wario Stadium or anything like that, but I dunno. Sunshine Airport almost feels like it was made to be a retro course.

Or maybe I've just been so weirdly confident in this specific idea for so long that it's just drilled itself into my head, I dunno.

Tour Piranha Plant Pipeline

Say hello to literally the only Mario Kart Tour course that didn't make its way into the Booster Course Pass! Yes, that's literally my only reasoning for including it. But if Tour courses are in fact in the running, then that's basically the only reason you need. This course wasn't in Mario Kart 8 and the only other place you can play it is a mobile game where it's only in rotation for like, two weeks of the year.

I don't think this is one of Tour's best original courses, it's decidedly mid-tier compared to the likes of Squeaky Clean Sprint, Yoshi's Island, and Ninja Hideaway, but it'd be nice to have it in a more accessible place. In Mario Kart 8 it'd feel redundant with Piranha Plant Slide, but here it probably won't have that issue.

Funniest outcome for this course however, is if they treat it like the other non-city Tour originals in the Booster Course Pass and try to pass it off as a new course for some reason.

GBA Broken Pier

I think it's funny how much Nintendo has fallen in love with Mario Kart: Super Circuit lately. For the longest time, GBA courses were given the short end of the stick with only one or two returning courses per game. However, when they started giving retro courses more dramatic overhauls in Mario Kart 8, they realized that GBA courses, unlike SNES courses, actually have interesting themes that are conducive to cool remakes, and now there are barely any GBA courses they haven't brought back! Which is to say there's two, and one of them is Broken Pier. Hi, Broken Pier!

Look, this is not a fan-favorite GBA course by any stretch of the imagination. I often see this considered one of the worst courses in the game. But how much does that actually really matter? When it comes to creative liberties taken with retro courses, GBA courses tend to get the most dramatic overhauls. As long as you keep the theming in tact and a vague facsimile of the layout, you can basically do whatever you want with these courses when you bring them back.

Given I think the atmosphere of this course is "pretty dang cool", that's all that really matters. Nintendo has free reign to do whatever they want with this course, because who's gonna complain about an unfaithful remake of Broken Pier?

LEAF CUP

MK8 Wild Woods

To be honest, there's a ton of courses from Mario Kart 8 I've considered putting at the start of the Leaf Cup. Shy Guy Falls, Dragon Driftway, and Super Bell Subway also feel like solid choices to me, but I'm going with Wild Woods for the silly reason of "cup-appropriate theming". This isn't something Nintendo does a ton of, but given in the past we've seen Maple Treeway in the Leaf Cup, DK Jungle in the Banana Cup, Rock Rock Mountain in the Rock Cup, and 3DS Rainbow Road in the Moon Cup, it's definitely something that does happen. It's enough to sway my opinion on this subject ever so slightly.

Either way, this is definitely the part where "literally every Mario Kart 8 course is in contention" is coming to bite me.

GBA Lakeside Park

Lakeside Park is another of those courses I really don't have to say much about my inclusion of. There's a bit of competition for a "jungle course spot" from Dino Dino Jungle and DK's Jungle Parkway I think, but given this one has yet to return in a traditional Mario Kart game, it feels like a more likely option to me. I just hope they reintroduce a little bit of the complexity in the layout that was lost in the Mario Kart Tour version of this course. I dunno what's up with Mario Kart Tour and oversimplifying the layouts of GBA courses in particular.

Wii Dry Dry Ruins

So many Mario Kart Wii courses are in Mario Kart 8, that based on my somewhat arbitrary "no repeat retros from Mario Kart 8" rule, narrowing down potential Wii courses is not really a challenge at all. Like, we're probably getting Toad's Factory, we're probably getting Dry Dry Ruins, and then pick one of the other three courses off a wheel and throw that one in, too.

I see a lot of people say they don't care for desert courses, but I'm kind of under the impression that they really just mean Dry Dry Desert and Bone-Dry Dunes. And maybe Yoshi Desert, but I don't know how many people even remember that course exists. But like, every other desert course in the series seems to have a solid reception with fans, right? I've seen lots of people clamoring for Dry Dry Ruins, but that might just be because "Mario Kart Wii fans" are a very vocal crowd, and they just think the shortcuts here are really cool. I can't blame 'em.

3DS Wario Shipyard

Something I've realized from my various attempts at Mario Kart 9 retro predictions from over the years is that lots of the courses that seem like viable options for retro picks are Wario courses. N64 Wario Stadium is basically a given, but Wario Shipyard is probably one of the most distinctive 3DS tracks, and Wario Colosseum and Mount Wario are both big fan-favorites too. Dang Wario, you need to cut it out with all your "courses that kick ass"! You're stealing valuable real estate from all the other characters!

I don't think Wario can hear me, and even if he does, he probably doesn't care. We know he's a greedy man. He probably feels so smug about "stealing precious real estate". I bet he's gonna get a new course of this caliber too, because that's just the kind of course Wario makes at this point.

MOON CUP

That's right! Second new retro cup! I went with the Moon Cup, and put it between the Leaf and Lightning Cup to act as the new retro parallel to the Star Cup, because that just feels right to me.

MK8 Electrodrome

This is the last of my picks for returning Mario Kart 8 courses, and feels like another relatively safe pick. Not as safe as Sunshine Airport, since it'd be considerably worse-off without anti-gravity, but there's this one butte in the background of the trailer which looks like it could be an anti-gravity section so we're probably fine on that front.

Anyway, all the stuff I've been saying across this post applies here also. Unique theming, well-liked by fans, you know the drill. Really, how much do I have to keep repeating these things? You know what my lines of reasoning are, do I have to keep saying them? Is this interesting to you? Are you interested right now?

Uhhhh this course was given a spotlight in a trailer for the original Mario Kart 8 on the Wii U. So I think Nintendo likes it also. That's a little more in its favor specifically.

GCN Mushroom City

Forget about every other course I've talked about on this post. If I have to single out the course I want to see return the most, it's this one. Frappe Snowland? More like CRAPPE Snowland! Mario Circuit 4? More like Mario Circuit BORE! Mushroom City? More like Mushroom Sh... no wait this is the one i like

Anyway, Mushroom City is cool as hell and it's criminal they've never brought this one back. Definitely probably maybe a top 10 Mario Kart course for me. I dunno. I haven't played Double Dash that much. But I've played it enough to know that I like Mushroom City, okay? I don't know if any other traffic course really sells the feeling of driving through a big city as much as this one, what with all its branching paths.

I really appreciate how they handled the branching paths here. On a course like Yoshi Valley, there's only one route that's actually good, making the whole gimmick feel kinda meaningless, but here everything feels even enough that no path feels unviable, especially with how the traffic patterns can influence your decision-making! And also the music is great and begging for a live band rendition. Make it happen, Nintendo! Mushroom City has spent too much time not returning, and not enough time... returning.

I mean, it feels like a pretty likely inclusion to me. I feel people have reappraised this course as being "really really good" lately (rightfully so!) and it's also one of only four Double Dash courses that have never been brought back. The other three include the coveted Bowser's Castle and Rainbow Road slots, as well as Wario Colosseum, which WOULD feel like a good candidate if not for...

N64 Wario Stadium

Man, I'm glad I put these courses back-to-back in my retro predictions. It wasn't specifically for that segue, but it makes for a damn good segue.

Poor, poor Wario Stadium. Literally the only course from Mario Kart 64 which has never been brought back, which I think kind of makes it an auto-include for these retro predictions, even if we don't want it to be. Something funny is that, having looked Mario Kart course ranking lists for over a decade now, I've seen the public opinion on this course shift dramatically in real time.

Like, ten years ago I saw this course frequently ending up on "Top 10 Mario Kart courses of all time" lists, with people talking about how cool it is that it's like a real dirt bike stadium, and how funny it was when you hit an opponent during the big jump and they had to repeat half the race.

But nowadays it feels like the popular opinion is "there's a good reason this is the only N64 course they've never brought back". Like, now everyone thinks this course is just really long and boring, and the opinion on Big Jump Snipes have shifted from "funny and cruel" to "just making the course even more of a slog to get through." Time has not been kind to N64 Wario Stadium.

But if anything, I think that's why this course needs to be brought back, right? To get the makeover it deserves and get some time being a less terrible course. I'm pretty sure the addition of tricks as a gameplay mechanic alone would improve it significantly, let alone more dramatic changes you could make to the layout. Worst case scenario, you give it the Wario Colosseum treatment and make it a two-lap course. (Or give it the N64 Rainbow Road treatment and make it only one lap, but I don't think that'd work out here.)

I have to clarify: the fact there's a long Wario course set in a stadium that's basically an auto-include is the sole reason I'm not putting Wario Colosseum on my retro predictions. Sorry, guys.

DS Airship Fortress

You wanna know why DS Airship Fortress is on my Mario Kart 9 retro predictions? Because it wasn't in the Booster Course Pass. That's it. Like, this course is a big hit with fans, it was in Mario Kart Tour already, and basically everyone agrees it was a baffling exclusion. So at this point the most logical conclusion I can think of is "it wasn't in Mario Kart 8 because they were saving it for Mario Kart 9".

That's really all I have to say on this one.

LIGHTNING CUP

3DS Maka Wuhu

Did you know? The two Wuhu Island courses are literally the only Mario Kart 7 courses which have never returned! Granted, lots of the others have only returned in Tour, which feels like the world's biggest edge case, but like, it's weird we haven't seen the Wuhu Island courses at all, right? I feel like people like these courses quite a bit. I mean, they brought back Wuhu Town as a battle arena in Mario Kart 8 Deluxe, so I don't think they're off the table.

Really, I've kinda been skirting around the crossover courses, because I'm not sure what to make of them. I'm definitely under the impression Mario Kart 9's not gonna be the "Super Smash Kart" or whatever some people have suggested, given the trailer exclusively shows Mario characters driving through an area not based on any Mario game in particular. I don't think Super Smash Kart would include Baby Rosalina on its roster.

But like, I don't wanna dismiss the idea of Mario Kart 9 having crossover content completely, because I could totally imagine it sticking around on a smaller scale, akin to... well, Mario Kart 8! And even putting that all aside, I kind of feel like the Wuhu courses are almost a weird exception to being "crossover courses" since they were in the main game of Mario Kart 7? I dunno. At this point I'm making weird and arbitrary rules for myself for the sake of making weird and arbitrary rules. I don't think I can explain my logic in a way that makes as much sense as it does in my head.

Tour Ninja Hideaway

Hey, so remember way, way earlier in the post when there was an asterisk when I mentioned my rule about no repeat retros from Mario Kart 8? Well here it is! It's Asterisk! You see, I wanted to include at least two courses from every game, but this proved to be an issue for Mario Kart Tour in particular, since all but one of its courses were included in Mario Kart 8 Deluxe. So I broke my rules, right? Well, not exactly...

Because Ninja Hideaway didn't return in Mario Kart 8.

See how this course was labelled in Mario Kart 8? It wasn't Tour Ninja Hideaway, just "Ninja Hideaway". Legally speaking, Ninja Hideaway did not return in Mario Kart 8 Deluxe, because it was a new course in that game too, for some reason! So none of my rules have been broken. This is, legally, the first time Ninja Hideaway will be a retro course.

Obviously, this sort of logic is incredibly silly, and barely makes any sense at all, but knowing Nintendo, I'm kind of under the impression this is the exact sort of logic they operate under. So I'm sticking by it! I think this would be a cool Lightning Cup pick. I like it for a lot of the same reasons I like Mushroom City (thank you well-balanced branching paths!), and I feel like some of the sharp turns here would make it well-suited for the late game.

DS Bowser('s?) Castle

Did you know? This course is just called "Bowser Castle". Not Bowser's Castle, with the apostrophe s. I don't really know why. I kind of expect them to change it, since they did with all the GBA Bowser's Castles in Mario Kart Tour, but they didn't with SNES Bowser Castle 3, so I really don't know. Either way, you too are now cursed with this information!

Anyway, given my two other picks from Mario Kart DS are both double-dips, I figured I should include one course which hasn't returned yet, and I'm going with this one. Figure-8 Circuit is probably the worst course of all time, and I think there's better candidates for a retro Rainbow Road, but Bowser('s) Castle? I mean, I've seen a fair share of fans who really like this one. I figure it's about time to bring it back.

For some reason, Nintendo hardly ever brings back the endgame Bowser's Castles, but I figure they gotta start chipping away at that list at some point, and having it as the penultimate retro course before a Rainbow Road just feels right. Speaking of which...!

GCN Rainbow Road

This was a pretty big toss-up between GBA Rainbow Road and GCN Rainbow Road for me, but I'm going with this one. I know GBA feels like the logical pick, since we got SNES in Mario Kart 7 and N64 in Mario Kart 8, but now that Mario Kart 8 also has SNES, 3DS, and Wii's Rainbow Roads, I'm not sure how much that order really matters anymore. And besides that... GCN just feels more iconic. It's the road that you go when you die!

Don't get me wrong, I don't wanna discount GBA completely, partially because of The Cycle, partially because it's one of the only GBA courses left, and partially because I think you could do a lot with a cool remake, but at the same time, let's be real with ourselves: if any Mario Kart game is the least iconic one, it's Super Circuit. I love its Rainbow Road a whole lot, but I don't think that's the one you show off in a big trailer to get fans excited for the first big Mario Kart game in over a decade, right?

Also, GCN Mushroom City feels like a very likely retro course, and you can see it in the background of GCN Rainbow Road, so uhhhh yeah. Checkmate, atheists! GCN Rainbow Road is real and there is nothing you can do about it!

Okay, so maybe my logic is a little flimsy, but as I said at the start of the post, I can't predict the future! Ultimately, I don't know why or how Nintendo decides which courses they want to bring back, and all I can really do is try to infer patterns based on what they've done in the past. But you know how it is with apophenia. We're all the time seeing patterns we want to see that aren't really there!

Ultimately, this is a game we know very little about, and it would be foolish of me to pretend that I've boiled any of this down to a science. Really, the reason I'm doing this is because it's fun! It's fun to think about hypothetical returning courses in future Mario Kart games using bogus patterns that don't really exist!

Also a big waste of time. Thanks for indulging in this big waste of time with me, everyone!

(if your favorite course wasn't included on this list, please imagine it as post-launch DLC. thank you.)

[butts-bouncing-on-the-beltway]

Truthfully, one of the BIGGEST pieces of community organizing I do is just. Conversation.

Not even political conversation. Just normal social bonding activities and topics!

I bring spare herbs and eggs to the neighbors and ask after their kids and grandkids. I show up at the market and shittalk the weather with the folks staffing the stalls. I tell cashiers I like their style and ask if they remember where they got any of the pieces. I wave to the neighborhood children when I'm out with them and teach them how to cue my dogs with treats so they can safely pet the furballs. Whenever I swing by the 24hr diner in town, I chat up the waittress who always seems to be the only person working the floor, and I ask after her health and if she's getting enough time off her feet because I can tell no one else does.

I have no idea at the time if any of these conversations will bear fruit. But it is absolutely fucking critical that I inform you I am a visibly trans dyke with a buzzcut whose built like a brick shithouse even before I put on my four inch heels. I walk around town like this every single day of my life. I have shown up in everything from my most schlubby fuckboi sweatsuits, to my strut "of shame" outfits the night after a hook up, to full on "leather dyke about to go fuck something up", to "farm hand of questionable gender and even more questionable ethics about fucking the rancher's wife and daughters.

It does not matter how I look, people in town light up when they see me. They get excited to talk to me, to hear what I've been up to, and to tell me what's going on with them. Sometimes they even broach topics that they clearly understand we disagree on. I always let them reach across and open that door themselves. I don't affirm or agree with anything they might say before this point that I find inappropriate, but I don't argue either. I use what I learned as a "soft conversation closer" that essentially communicates to others "we can continue to talk, but it won't be about this. If you continue anyway, the conversation ends until we can talk about something else.

But like I said, eventually these people always manage to muster their courage. "[Redacted]," they ask, hesitantly, "have you heard about [insert fascist talking point]? It feels really big and present on the mind lately." And I say "why yes I have, and I agree, it HAS been big and on the mind lately. After all [insert appropriate de-radicalization/innoculation talking point]." And they look confused and repeat a phrase full of buzzeords they assume is a counter argument. At this point, *I* look confused and say "I don't think I understand what you mean. I'm a bit tired today so I might be misunderstanding you, but it sounds like you're saying [rephrased version of their talking point minus the buzzwords and plus some acknowledgement of the latent dogwhistles and indoctrination they relied on]. Could I ask you to try again and see if I have an easier time following your perspective?"

There is usually a pause as they wrestle with how to respond to this. Three outcomes split off from here

1) they really do rephrase their genuine concerns sans buzzwords and dogwhistles and we get to have a real and substantive conversation about our needs and shared humanity

2) they get angry that I will not simply change my mind in response to hearing their retort. This is a person to whom I say "it sounds like you feel really strongly about this and aren't comfortable with the idea that we disagree. Why don't we set this down for now, after all if anything changes we can always come back to it." And then I refuse to talk about it with them again until they can have the conversation with me without getting excessively angry.

3) they simply decide not to continue the conversation themselves because they either don't know how to or recognize that it would be unproductive in the moment to try.

Now I'm definitely not suggesting that everyone can or should do this. But there are so many ways every day we have to offer a glimpse of our humanity to people who need to know that it exists. If we are comfortably capable of doing this, it can be literally life saving, not just of the person you're talking to, but of dehumanized people in their future who may depend on that person being able to make a different choice than they would make now.

You do not need to be able to debate politics to do this. You can simply be human in other people's presence.

It will not shock me to learn that the isolationism of the world since the early pandemic has likely played a huge role in how vulnerable many people are right now to different kinds of radicalization and authoritarianism, and while I have incredible empathy for how burnt out and exhausted we all are, I cannot help but recognize that this is not a reality that can ever change unless some of us (also deeply exhausted and burnt out) continue to choose to invest in community and connection building regardless of what we may need or have space for. The fewer of us are carefully balancing how we can ensure we are able to continue doing that, regardless of how much or little support we ourselves may have, the more frequently those of us making that call will have to keep doing it. The less rest we will have. The more exhausted we will become. The fewer of us there will be. The more vulnerable our communities will be to the societal forces seeking to harm and destabilize us.

I understand people do not like this post. I've had a fair few comments already about how the opener was "barely salvaged" by other later comments.

But I cannot emphasize enough how much this is coming from love, solidarity, experience, and deeply painful and material understanding of what it has cost me my whole life to be someone who will never get to stop making this choice.

There will never be a day where I can afford to prioritize my own exhaustion over the lives and well-being of the people I have committed to caring for. This is not a role I will ever set down. And if that means I will do that increasingly alone until it kills me, I fucking will. I don't need any single specific person to walk with me on that journey. But it is so unfathomably devastating to see just how many potential walking comrades have decided for themselves that this must be **someone else's** weight to carry, and they will not contribute to it in any way that is hard on them. Do I want people to live like I do? God no!! That's part of why I do what I do.

But you have to understand. If I don't want anyone to do what I do I need to make sure the world is as kind as I can possibly encourage it to be every single fucking day between now and the inevitable heat death of the universe. And if people calling themselves my comrades are actively fighting me on that, making the world crueller and less safe to do my work in, then I can no longer afford to consider them my comrades at all.

Watching the politics tag fill up with exhausted liberals talking about how they're too drained to keep resisting and no one should blame them for that and like. Yeah, you're right this sucks and you shouldn't be forced to do it to be treated as human and you shouldn't need to be able to be on and in activist mode all the time either and ALSO

I've been doing this since 2002. My mother did this from 1981-2015. My auntie marched in Alabama during civil rights and my childhood minister has been in resistence since the Vietnam war and has shown no signs of stopping as she collects civil disobedience arrests across all 50 states like badges of honor.

And you all are burnt out after 8 yrs of some of the biggest (and therefore LEAST DEMANDING ON YALL PERSONALLY) movements we've ssen in decades because you feel too poor and tired???????

My mama would go around to every grocery store she had friends working at in the valley and collect all the food they were gonna toss, then host educational salons where she fed everyone in the neighborhood and performed innoculation work. She was a single mom raising a deeply disabled child ALONE on a salary half that of her male coworkers you think she had money? You think she had TIME????? NO!

If you are tired now, I'm sorry to be harsh, but it is BECAUSE YOU DID NOT LISTEN when you were told you needed to settle in for the long haul. You DID NOT LISTEN when organizers shared with everyone their practices around self-care, specialization, community care, and communication, and you spent the last 8 years burning the candle at both ends in person and online with no regard for the actual WORK only for your own fear and feelings of reassurance.

This will never sustain change. I'm sorry. I truly am. I never wanted this for anyone who came after me and I have so much grief that it's here. But I also do not have time to force yall to fucking listen to us when we talk.

Stop trying to assert that only the wealthy and energetic resist. Anyone I see doing so will be bitten repeatedly until fucking dead.

[transformers-spike]

Back at it with sparkling brain rot

Soundwave's cryptid daughter is mostly well behaved but has a playful/mean streak and likes to play pranks. When she gets fed up with Knockout and Starscream she will play Megatron's voice to jump scare them which works every time. She will also play different bots voices to deceive the vehicons and even her parents (only sometimes works on them) when getting in to things she's not supposed to. When she's mad at Soundwave she plays her Mom's scolding voice. Megatron knows all about it and feels like he should be mad but can't find it in himself as after all it's Soundwave's sparkling and watching her put the fear of Primus into Starscream and other mechs is too delightful.

"STARSCREAM!"

Megatron's booming voice coming from out of the blue is enough to jolt Knockout and Breakdown from their conversation.

"Hungry."

Even though it might not have been their designations shouted, both bots look thoroughly shaken.

"Right, of course. Here you go, two rust sticks for my favorite patient."

Dreadwing probably has the most respectful sparkling. Always cleans up after playing with his toys and doesn't make a mess drinking his energon. Aside from just generally being one of the most noble decepticons Dreadwing being a split spark has a strict sense of fairness from growing up with his brother and passed that to his sparkling (you know the meme of siblings measuring cookies portions to make sure they're even). Doesn't tolerate the other Sparklings bullying each other or Cheating in games.

"Love, care to tell me why Starscream says you hit his daughter?"

"THAT'S BECAUSE SHE'S A CHEATER AND KEPT EATING MY CHESS PIECES!"

Breakdown's sparkling is honestly just a good normal kid. She might be made of metal and the bulkiest sparkling but she likes Saturday morning cartoons and roughhousing with her friends. Breakdown is vert attentive and protective of her. When she's old enough they go mud bogging together.

"BLUEY!!!BINGO!!!"

I feel like with Shockwave there would be a ton of kids in the name of science. Predaking either carries them in his mouth like a mama gator or on his back like a mother opossum. They'd mostly rather play among each other but sometimes accept the other sparklings. Despite the fact that they range from different shades of purple and pink outsiders have trouble telling them apart and discerning of many of them there really are.

"How can you tell them apart?"

"Oh, easy that one's a-12, that's a-3 over there, this is one is c-4, etc..."

Some shitposty part of me wants to think all of the kiddies share the same mom, except they're all born weirdly (idk extra small like she's carrying a litter of sparklings). The birth wasn't excruciating, just took longer because there were so many. Idk if it was all of them at the same time or like multiple pregnancies Soundwave's kid is so fucking adorable - I'm even tempted to say she can probably breakup fights with her tendrils, and she's been caught occasionally stealing treats using them (with the other sparklings cheering her on) I love how you're hinting that Skyquake and Dreadwing used to beef over portion sizes. Dreadwing's kid is just a mini him, same serious expression, just small and extra cute. Honestly him losing his mind over Starscream's kid eating his chess pieces is uifehiefiuefufe - what the fuck is wrong with her??t??? I want to say he's a momma's boy who likes being carried around and cuddled. Don't worry, Dreadwing's also there, he's just overprotective of his spawn and he cannot drop the serious act for even a second. The type of parent to speak to his newborn like he would an adult. He's trying his best Breakdown must be used to taking his kid and KO's son for outings. They're chatterboxes when they're together and they both laugh at his horrible dad jokes. When KO's exhausted he looks after his kids (or well, at least his son) - because KO's daughter wants to hangout in clean spaces with her dad. Damn the reader had a separate pregnancy just with Shockwave's kids at this point. Predaking is honestly very happy caring for his extra small siblings, and he's very careful not to crush them. Honestly he's a better dad than Shockwave lol. Also, if you wake them up, a bunch of tiny red optics open up in the total darkness. Feels like a horror movie

[sandsorghum]

3 days late for Valentine's but oh well. I don't know if this is really a proper or full fic, take it as an experimental, extended romantic ramble about Higuruma I suppose(?) I'm insanely smitten with this man >_>

Higuruma's perfectly suited as the protagonist of a whirlwind romance; from his looks, demeanour, proclivities - right down to those carefully ill-disguised vices of his.

Waltzes into a room like so much inclement weather unfurling over the horizon, equally unstoppable, a storm cloud's charisma. A presence which shifts barometric pressures, all that brooding mystique, more the signature of a cyclone or lightning trapped in a bottle.

Nature's favourite paradox - Something rhythmically electric about him, phenomena so familiar its commanding effect is a little eclipsed, the same way we don't really wonder at thunder, or notice a typhoon during the monsoon season.

Overcast irises, analytical scudding. The sort of whiplash wit the most seasoned screenwriters would gnash their teeth over, penetrating candour even without the liquor. They don't know how much whiskey he took to first convince himself he could pull off being "debonair" - or some version of it, whatever that means for him. The devil may care, after all, if he's the one insistent on being its advocate.

Dark and handsome, every woman's type (if that woman was at a bar at 3am on a Tuesday night). Disheveled chic, on a decent evening. Or he'll compel them to romanticize the rumpled effect, on a worse one.

And in those rooms where shadows circle each other and silences tango, with his steadfast irises brandishing a brandy-ripened gleam, they find themselves ever so tempted to pull his lips into a matching shape, to feel his teeth cut into their own mouths like flint.

It's those obsidian orbs, darkness crackling, midnight splintering with forked tongues of lightning, aching for those eyes to peel over them in lacerations and a licking down their throat, swallowing fire and scrying crystalline spheres in tumblers glittering topaz with bourbon drops, to entice the future which blurs into merlot smeared collars and burgundy seared skin.

The ozone thickens, they're coaxed to breathe his smoke. Lungs tarred with his incendiary stare, ventricles paved with ash and asphalt. A speed demon's dalliance, careening too quick to care what's coming around the bend, not when this is how the devil worships her curves; one night and his presence clings to mind, body, soul - Stubborn as blood's claim upon bitumen.

And those without the wisdom to make an earlier exodus will have to drag themselves from the wreck.

Once, someone mumbled against his cheek, "You're nothing so trite as an enigma, Higuruma."

It seemed like a compliment. Perhaps he would have remembered it that way, if it wasn't the final thing they told him.

He could interpret it as true, or true enough - if only as an explanation for the icy spots on his sheets some nights.

Years later, "some nights" turned into nights, and the cold grew past its spot, expanded through the floors and walls of his apartment, then shrunk small enough to make a crevice in his chest. A barely perceptible fissure in a window, a split sill leaking warmth, heat, hunger. Desire diluting into inconvenience, unnecessary pursuits he can't be bothered with. Needs waning into mere wants, or idle fancies. Higuruma gives up first on imagination, then on memory. Fractal tendrils spreading, making rhizomatic ribbons of his heart, hewn with scar tissue crisscrossing thickly calloused roads, his pulse buried beneath a network of welts he can't navigate through. North and South look much the same, the compass twiddles between East and West, whirring on mechanically.

He's noticed the crack now, and everything that spills through it but then, it's always been there, hasn't it? Perhaps he was born with it. Innate as his intellect, his drive, his pragmatism. He's meant to live with it.

"So. No more distractions for you then," you say - and it's an observation, not a challenge, nor even an inquiry. You make it sound so factual, it's almost flattering. But that's not your intention. Higuruma knows that much about you, after all these months of sharing cigarettes, and the odd anecdote.

But then, it's the lilt of your lips, not your tone, that rather suddenly makes him question this auditory trick; why would he equate a logical statement from you about him with praise?

It's an accident, Higuruma is quick to figure; you're always this relaxed around him, your mouth is always this soft with him - he means, always at such ease to part him with soft smiles, as a ray of summer straying unencumbered through the trees, unfoiled by foliage, those dimples of yours dappling against your cheek.

As for the softness of your mouth in a textural context, that doesn't occur to him; You don't seek the clarification, but he makes the correction for himself, in private.

There's a few other things Higuruma doesn't quite notice when he's with you, things that simply seem to slip away; lurid colours, noise, after hours in the office. A few other mysterious disappearances, remarkable for how rapidly they vanish around you, include: his allergies to small talk (previously bordering on neurosis), fifth cups of coffee, his migraines.

It's not as if he's making a conscientious effort to forget the clamouring in his skull, or the leaden rankling weight at the base of his spine accumulating throughout his week; Surly defendants, sullen witnesses, wailing wrathful parents, passive-aggressive prosecutors.

They're all there, proliferating hydras and leviathan problems which leech onto his brain and screech for his attention - but it's strange, how they all shrivel up like slugs on a sidewalk on a summer's day, husks burnt under the brunt of the smirk you flash him, whisking past him in the pantry to sneak a sandwich in his pocket, or an espresso in his hand already automatically stretching towards another alibi.

There are always fresh fires for him to put out (or to be put out by) but somehow, in your presence, all of them burn low, every boiling roiling convolution shoved onto the back of a stove, during the two minute smoke breaks he savours with you.

Matchsticks held up to the magnitude of the sun, there is no comparison. Incandescence rendered invisible, amidst the glow of the cosmos and an orbital burning, bright as the colour of air itself.

Perhaps that is why Higuruma doesn't recognise what's happening.

He's confounded when he realises. Too stunned to be mortified that he wasn't aware of it before. As if it were a piece of fundamental knowledge he should have picked up years earlier - like how there aren't penguins in the Arctic, or that there are eight planets in our solar system.

This should have been equally obvious; Higuruma is in love with you.

For him, it's like noticing that there are two moons in the sky, somehow for the first time. Were they always there? Why didn't he know? What's he supposed to do with this new information?

It's monumental.

No - it doesn't matter.

Not in the minutiae of his day to day, in routines augmenting this warped reality. There's an endless mill of hearings, cross-examinations, plea deals to slog through.

So what if he wakes up in a world askew on its axis, Monday spins into Tuesday spins into Wednesday spins into another mundane month of manslaughter suspects, juvenile delinquents, supercilious plaintiffs, crotchety judges.

You stride by him in the corridors of court buildings, your genial smile flickering in a passing greeting.

There are two moons in the sky.

On a late night commute, serendipity leads his steps to the same subway carriage as you. He doesn't make his way over. You do.

There are two moons in the sky.

Everything has changed, but nothing is different.

(The entire ride, he fidgets with his tie.)

You send him a selfie in the new udon shop he mentioned wanting to visit. The bowl of noodles in frame billowing plumes of steam does nothing to obscure the smugness nestled in the crook of your mouth.

There are two moons in the sky.

Distant satellites, far off in space. They don't affect him. Higuruma's eyes drift shut, phone screen clutched across his chest.

You squeeze into a packed elevator with him one morning, close enough for him to see the dew glistening across your temple while you fuss with your fringe to hide it, and close enough for him to hear you muttering something incriminating about your landlady's cat.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," he murmurs. "Not within my earshot at least."

"That's disappointing," you huff, "I didn't think I'd have to censor thoughts of my wicked impulses around you of all people, Higuruma."

And just like that, the gravity of those two moons slams into him.

He thought it'd been a benign lull all this time, that it could continue to be, that errant tug at the tide every so often, the salt tickle at his ribs. But now he's drowning in this brackish burning and churning in his lungs, waves towering over him with the immediacy of his idiocy that he's only just now realising with alarming alacrity.

He can't fight this.

A whirlpool surging through his chest, salt flaying sinew, buffeted by the twin satellites and their gravitational force, oceans ragged with waves dragged away from the very seafloor, an entire planet stripped down to polished ivory and bleached corals.

He never stood a chance.

He looks at you check your watch and adjust your cuffs, before smoothing a palm over the lapels of your blazer tapering primly over your bosom, then tuck a lock of hair behind your ear. Higuruma's eyes flick to the digital panel indicating the ascent of lift, floor numbers ticking up up up.

Two moons in the sky, they had never been an abstract fact of his universe, simply because he'd been ignorant, or been ignoring them. Considered them insignificant, dismissing the tremors that were aftershocks in truth, ripples that belied the riptide crashing through him with your every gentle glance, the grace of your gaze.

Two moons in the sky, and he'd believed the heavens were irrelevant, deliberate and obstinate with his irreverence. As if sheer will or blind optimism could make a difference to his emotional reality, an epiphany cratering in on Higuruma with a comet's terminal velocity.

Pretending not to notice how he paid attention to every minor detail about you, those mosaics constituting his own mood; like how he found himself seeking refuge in the crinkling corners of your eyes, counterintuitive in his desperation, trying to catch his breath there before you snatched it away again with your laugh, somehow both a zephyr's theft and gift to lift his spirits.

Deceits he can no longer dismiss, conceits which only compounded the consequences, it was both lunacy and reality. A curious blend of bristling scorn at his own folly and humility bubbles up in his chest, and Higuruma barks, a short and sharp burst of sound puncturing the air.

The fellow elevator passengers purse their lips, even as they're shuffling off onto their floors, leaving just the two of you together.

You level a quizzical glance at Higuruma, you didn't think your comment was that clever; An unwarranted reaction, possibly hyperbole, given the standards of repartee you've grown accustomed to around each other.

Higuruma shakes his head, something glimmering in his gaze. It's nothing you haven't seen before, but this time, when the dazzle of the fin darts back beneath the surface, his eyes seem focused, intent.

"Did you like that udon place you beat me to?"

"Oh, yes. The rave reviews got it right for once. Their service is efficient too," you reply, a little caught off-guard by his apparent non-sequitur.

Higuruma nods once, economical with the movement. It's that same singular, deft jut of his jaw which you've observed he's partial to when he's made a key decision, on something he won't ever back away from. Regardless of how it plays out.

"Then I'd like to take you there this Sunday afternoon."

"This Sunday?" you echo, trying to sound like you're not reeling from hearing Higuruma Hiromi has a concept of weekends which goes beyond staying in to huddle over his latest trial transcripts.

"Yes. It's not ideal but I have to meet a client on Saturday."

"Right." There was the version of the workaholic you knew.

"So Sunday's the earliest available date. 1230pm?"

If nothing else, something about Higuruma's unwavering gaze and his forthright manner is familiar enough to you. And it was just a meal. You've had meals with Higuruma before, albeit in front of vending machines, which was stretching the definition a little thin. Here was an opportunity to revise that then.

You respond, "12pm. We should try to avoid the lunch crowd. One of the regulars told me the average time in line is about 20 minutes though."

"It'll be worth it," he states, looking directly into your eyes, and then Higuruma Hiromi smiles at you.

And you can feel it now, with blinding abrupt clarity, that fresh heat blistering your cheeks, heralding the rising radiance of two new suns, splintering your horizon with a permanent glow.

Thanks for reading!

[graveyardcat7-moved]

sometimes characters r so smitten with eacb other that even imagining them with other characters feels like youre making them cheat. like its so mean to do it. does that make sense.

[sallymew4]

kids when they hear that their dad is back in town VS. kids when theyre hanging out with a conman that accidentally stole their wallet once

im not even joking btw

bonus heres me being crazy about them in dms ^^^

[dazais-guardian-angel]

Chapter 110 is 13 pages long welcome to hell!!! so in a lot of ways this is just more fuel for a theory that I've had for a few weeks now, that's only gotten stronger with each recent season 5 episode, which is that the last episode of the season is gonna end on 110, and that Asagiri/Harukawa and Bones have been collaborating to make this happen, specifically because it's a major turning point that would be the only good place to end the season on.

When we started getting especially long chapters again (like from 25-35ish pages, with the exception of 107.5, the last two being some of the longest we've ever had), at first I just assumed that Asagiri/Harukawa got freed up from some other obligations they'd been having to cause the extremely short/half chapters, like promotional stuff for the anime/Beast movie, or working on light novels. But then 109 happened, with the "supposed" death of Dazai, and heavy emphasis at the end on how literally everyone is at their lowest point right now, and I got to thinking. 11 episodes is a strangely specific number for an anime season -- why not 12, or 13, or even 10, like you'd usually see? Why have we gotten suddenly gotten two 35 page chapters out of nowhere, that's almost unheard of at this point? They're both beautiful chapters, don't get me wrong (as always), and maybe A/H simply just didn't want to cut them in halves because they felt like the full emotional impact wouldn't hit/that there were no good cutoff points in them, but you can't deny that it's surprising, after all the shorter chapters we've been getting. Why has the anime been going at such insanely breakneck pacing for the most part ever since around the Sunday Tragedy chapters, even more so than it has in the past? So much so that it feels dangerously close to overtaking the manga?

Well, maybe, just maybe, it's because..... Asagiri decided a long time ago that whatever happens in 110 is the only point that feels "season finale"-worthy enough, in an arc that still isn't anywhere close to being completely wrapped up, and so both the manga and the anime have been specifically coordinated to reach that part within 2 and a half weeks of each other?

I've seen a lot of people now think season 5 will end with 109, and as much as my sadistic side would find that hilarious, I honestly don't think they'd do that and realistically don't want it to happen; it'd be so cruel to cliffhanger the anime for years like that, and just doesn't feel like a season cliffhanger BSD would do, a series that is ultimately hopeful and uplifting. Seasons 2 and 3 had a positive, conclusive ending; the only reasons seasons 1 and 4 didn't was because they're technically not really full seasons of their own, and are more like the first cour of another "season" that also came out that same year (seasons 1 and 2 both aired in 2016, so they're more like one big season, and seasons 4 and 5 have both aired this year, so they're also more like one big season, again taking into account how episodes 12 and 50 are not satisfying finales like episodes 24, 37, and hypothetically, 61, are). I really can't see season 5 ending with Dazai and Fukuzawa's supposed deaths, Sigma being unconscious and maybe close to death, Atsushi being vulnerable and limbless again, everyone we love still vampires, and the entire world being basically doomed; that's just too depressing and not like BSD at all. However, having said that, if it doesn't end there, there really isn't any good place to end the season before that, either, that feels in any way satisfying or like a finale at all. And so, to me, that only leaves after 109: chapter 110.

I think things are really gonna turn around next chapter. Like I said, everyone is at their lowest point right now, it cannot possibly get any worse, the framing of Dazai, Fukuzawa, and sskk at the end of 109 is telling us that; this is the time for the heroes to finally start winning again, with Aya being so close to pulling out the sword, and for all the thematic reasons other people have talked about to death that I don't need to go into here again. This upcoming chapter being so short again makes a part of me wary of 110 being "the one", so to speak, I won't lie, but at the same time, it's very possible that it needs to be that short because that's all the final episode of the season will be able to reasonably fit in, since it's already gonna be VERY close if they do make it all the way to 109. And at the end of the day, I don't doubt at all that Asagiri and Harukawa can make these the most monumental and game-changing mere 13 pages ever if they wanted to; a chapter does not at all need to be extremely long in order to be an important and impactful one, even if short ones we've gotten in the past haven't felt the most important.

An additional thought I've had, though this is much more crack territory than all this already is, is that since we know from Anime Expo that a Stormbringer movie at some point is highly likely (judging from Asagiri's reaction when someone brought it up), it's possible that chapter 110 and thus the final episode will involve the long-anticipated return of Verlaine and/or Adam, or at least some other major reference to Stormbringer, that would naturally and smoothly lead into a Stormbringer movie to explain things to people who haven't read the novel. It would make a lot of sense, especially since the s4 OP has the Old World sign behind Chuuya, which might be a hint that this has been in the works ever since seasons 4/5 were first in planning with Asagiri. We also know that Dazai and Chuuya's voice actors apparently struggled to record their lines together this season, which probably relates to 101 and possibly 109, but it could be 110 too.... I could be very wrong, as I'm no expert on this kind of thing, but I kinda doubt they would bring Chuuya's actor in for just the vampire growls, and Asagiri placing heavy emphasis on Chuuya's importance this season in that one interview gives me the impression that he's talking about much more than just 101/109. But that's the least solid evidence I have, that's just mostly based on vibes I get.

So basically, I think a lot of factors -- the unusual episode count, how close the anime is to catching up to the manga with three whole episodes left, the seemingly arbitrary recent chapter lengths, and the climactic events of 109 -- can tell us that 110 might be a very, VERY big deal. Again, there's of course no way this arc is anywhere near close to being finished, with so much left to address and resolve, but since it is currently incomplete in the manga, unlike the previously adapted arcs, if the anime was going to adapt it at all, they'd have to find a place that feels satisfying enough to end this season, knowing there won't be more anime for a long time after this, and so I think they specifically planned for that, from both Bones' and A/H's sides. 10 episodes might not have been enough to reach that point, but 12 or 13 might have been too many it wouldn't have been if Bones actually decided to slow down and let the story breathe the way it needs to, but this post isn't meant to criticize the anime, so maybe 11 was just right. And maybe Asagiri and Harukawa specifically pushed to make recent chapters longer than usual, in order to make sure that the manga reached the story content in 110 the monthly release right before season 5 was to end.

Is this just copium? Absolutely. Am I going to look like an absolute clown in two days when this post ages like milk? Probably. But the evidence is There, so let me just enjoy my delusions until Sunday, okay 🥂🫡

[cherealta]

going to read all the ace quest transcripts (again) so i can go into full depth of how that affected vivienne Because i really wanna talk about vivienne. desperately

[skrunksthatwunk]

eughhh i feel dumb

[nashvillehotchicken]

since my mom has some trauma from being ex-mormon and ex-nazarene and there have been a lot of issues between us both in some held-onto beliefs and triggers, i've not been wanting to tell her explicitly that i'm converting until i'm able to move out and have a bit of stability and a better sense of safety

i do still want to be at least slightly open about this and sort of sneakily educate may family for the better so i've been using the "my friend" rule to talk abt my studies and its working hilariously well lmao

[tonycries]

I'm A BIG Stepper!

Synopsis. Too big? There’s no such thing as “too big”.

Pairings. [SEPARATE] Gojo x Reader, Sukuna x Reader, Choso x Reader, Geto x Reader, Nanami x Reader, Toji x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, established relationship, saying it’s “too big”, FÉRAL boys, spítting, chokíng, them being big like REALLY big, cúmplay, oraI (male + fem), Choso’s rings, breéding, víbrators, creampíe, again - REALLY big, kinda mean Choso hehe, true form! Sukuna, dp, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 5.7k

A/N. When you accidentally choose “thought daughter” and half your synopses are questions WHOOPS.

♡ TOJI FUSHIGURO - “That? M’bigger.”

“Yer killin’ me, doll.” Toji huffs out in ragged jealousy at those slow, sultry noises. “Look at you- just look at how she’s just begging f’me.”

Such cute lil’ whines leave your pretty lips as he works your puffy cunt open with that hot pink vibrator of yours. Soaked, thick - customized to the exact measurements of the achingly hard cock sat between his legs right now.

“B-but-” you gasp, eyeing down at the way your puffy folds were bulging around the toy. “S’barely even ngh- all the way in, Toji.”

“So?” he rolls his eyes. And Toji knows he’s being ridiculous, he knows it’s for his own good to stretch out your gummy walls so that you can take his massive size. But all it takes is another hard caress of that buzzing length against your poor g-spot for him to snap.

Eyes becoming crazed when your jaw falls slack, back arching up like such a slut up against his hard abs as you squeal, “Toji! Oh my god m’close—”

Close? 

Suddenly, Toji can’t take it anymore - he needs to feel you wrapped around himself. 

Now. 

“M’gonna- wait what- ngh!” You’re batting your dewy eyes up at him when he drags the vibrator out with a loud squelch! All at once. Still reeling from disappointment, “Baby, why’d you-”

“Because.” he interrupts, and you keen when you feel the urgent throb! of Toji’s fat tip kissing at your swollen folds. Red and angry, leaking thick precum over your pussy lips in a pretty gloss. So mesmerizing that you almost miss the familiar flex of his thighs, the way his dark brows furrow in concentration. “-this pussy of yours says s’time for the real deal.”

It’s all that’s said before he’s suddenly dipping his girthy head just barely past your first ring of resistance. Difficult.  

“Relax.” he hisses. Pushing in lingering, determined little grinds past each clench, still easy - still patient. For now. “Breathe f’me. Breathe f’me come on, She can do hah- do it, right, my girl?”

Shit, a part of him thinks he should’ve almost waited longer with the vibrator. Because Toji knows he’s big. He knows your cunt is so tight so heavenly he might just pass out right now. Until- 

“Hngh! Toji!” you scramble onto your elbows when you feel his fat head finally bullies past to brush up against your hidden sweet spots. That little divot squeezing past to mark your walls inside. “You promised you’d hah- last longer with the oh vibrator tonight.”

Honestly, a part of Toji was impressed you were still able to form coherent sentences with the way you were being split apart on his monster cock. 

He leans down to nuzzle your neck, “Awww, did I?” Hiking your limp legs further and further up his broad shoulders where he had you folded in half. “I don’t remember, maybe your pussy was jus’ c-calling t’me.”

“You- you liar!” you cry out, and he can’t help but grow impossibly harder. Fighting off that dangerous, feral part of himself that just wants to ram into you like some animal already. Because oh how he loved when you act like you weren’t bucking up mindlessly into the smooth staccato of his hips as he eases his way in.  “Hngh- fuck you jus’ got- oh!”

The stretch - fuck the stretch. You never got used to it, no matter how many times he used that damn vibrator on you. Pushing you to your limits. It’s like he was nudging at your lungs already.

“F-fuuuck-” you can’t hold back your desperate moans, nails dragging reg marks down his biceps almost the size of your head. “Are you- ngh are you at least halfway in, Toji?”

“Nope.” he hums smugly, popping the p. “Though…”

And in a split second, he’s sitting up, with you splayed out so prettily on his fat length. Lips quirking into a mean little grin when two big arms of his help gravity pull you down, down, down onto his thick cock. Inch by fucking inch. 

Turning his head to lick a long, languid stripe up his wrist. Groaning at the sweet sweet taste of your juices forming a sheen on his skin from the little “preparation” before. And fuck you think you feel him grow thicker - angry veins pulsing against every nook and cranny of your cunt. 

Full. So full - and he wasn’t even all the way in yet. 

“Oh- oh my god- fuck you’re so deep.” you mewl, body jolting with the inability to decide between wanting to run away or slam your hips down for more. 

Toji notices - of course, he does - it was always like this, a few tears, a few whines, a few strokes with that pathetic “replica” of his swollen cock to stretch you out. He splays a hand out over your lower stomach, pressing down. Hard. Twitching wildly at that familiar bulge inside you, “M’so much deeper than that stupid toy.” 

It’s all you can do to whimper, strained and utterly fucked out already. “Wh-what?”

“Heh, ya wanna know a secret, doll?” He’s leaning down to chuckle darkly in your ear - sending shivers down your neck, your arched spine, all the way to where he gives harsh thrust. Calculated. Once. Twice. 

This time, not stopping until he was bottoming out. 

Your puffy folds meeting his pelvis in a lewd kiss, his heavy balls smacking against your ass, thick cock settled deep - right where Toji’s been dying to be all night. Toji coos at the way your poor cunt was stuttering and bulging with the greedy effort to take him. 

He plants a sloppy kiss right on your lips, “That vibrator’s made smaller than me.”

♡ NANAMI KENTO - Gentleman.

Now, Nanami Kento has always been told he looked like a gentleman - everything from his neatly styled hair, to his perfect suits, to the stern reading glasses always at his nose. Nanami Kento was a gentleman - both inside and out. 

Well, except for that massive cock he hid away behind dapper dress pants, of course. 

The one that always got so girthy and angry at the mere thought of not being stuffed inside your pretty pussy. The one that was currently beading hot precum at your pussy lips, forming a lewd little pool from where he was spooning you from behind. 

The perfect remedy after a long, hard day at work - you, his cute lil’ wife. 

“Bad day?” you whisper over your shoulder, Nanami’s nods coming out in feverish little puffs against your heated skin. “Then, I want you to put it in, Ken. All of it, don’ wanna waste time on preparation.”

And Nanami was never one to deny his wife - never one to doubt anything you wanted. But at this very moment, he’s loosening that speckled yellow tie he didn’t have the patience - nor the sanity to remove. Sliding the divot on his fat tip across your clit with a hushed, “Can’t, my love. I promised to not overwork you.”

You huff, “S’not overworking- just ngh- Ken-”

“Don’t.” he warns, hips rutting up lewdly at the mere sound of your voice. Sliding the mess of his glisteningly swollen cock right between your puffy folds. “Fuck- don’t. Jus’ had a bad day n’ this naughty pussy’s gonna make me lose control, darling. Have you calling out of work tomorrow.” He kisses down your neck left hand snaking down to give your cunt a gentle smack! The cool band of his wedding ring burning against your clit, “S’that really what you want?”

And it was meant to be a question to himself more than anything, really. A reminder that you weren’t even prepared yet - not stretched and teased to his heart’s content like usual. A reminder to fucking reel his sanity back before he breaks you. 

But, alas, maybe you’re a genius - maybe you’re just stupid. Because you whine stubbornly, “Well, I hear it’s the best solution for a bad day, so why don’t you?”

In an instant, that’s all it takes for your leg to be stretched up in the air. The cozy bedroom chill hitting your bare cunt - only for a split-second, before Nanami’s achy tip is filling you up. Everywhere. Anywhere. 

“Hold onto this.” his free hand presses his tie onto your shaky one, hip still pushing. Still rutting up in a steady pressure on your snug cunt. “Pull on it if m’going too rough- fuck- fuckin’ choke me I don’t care. Jus’ let me know because from now on…” he trails off dangerously. 

But you’re not left to wonder what the end of his sentence will gift you. No, because you feel it. 

He’s pushing in - nothing like the slow, languid strokes you were used to. No, barely even giving you the time to adjust while your husband just keeps pressing and pressing and-

“Ah! Ken!” you involuntarily tug on his tie when his sensitive slit massages at those syrupy sweet spots insides. “You’re so deep- fuck just fuck me how you want to.”

Nanami’s head feels light, vision getting spottier with each heaving breath he’s taking - maybe from your tightening grip around his tie, maybe from the way you’re squeezing him so fucking tight. But it takes him a few seconds to pull himself together enough to grit out, “Fuck- I want to. Oh, how I want to.” As if to confirm his statement, he’s thumbing apart your sopping slit, groaning at the sight of you drooling eagerly down his cock. “But you’re so fuckin’ tight I can’t ngh- s’this how you feel- fuck! I think m’gonna hafta take y’like this all the time, my love.”

Each word has him speeding up in jagged little pistons. Feeling so mean with the way he was bullying those cute moans out of you. 

“I don’t care- ngh-” you babble, when his fingers roll over your clit. Squirming your hips down to meet his, trying to press up against those neat tufts of blond at his hilt. “-just want you all inside me.”

Shaping your cunt to this shape of him, losing his breath with each and every dense push inside your sloppy entrance. Still stuck not even halfway in yet - but you feel like you’re losing your goddamn mind. 

“You’re so fuckin’ hah- hold on.” And then, your beloved Nanami pushes your leg up even further, craning his neck over to spit. A steady, sinful stream of saliva right onto the bulging mound of where he was sheeting himself in your pussy. Circling your clit, he hums in satisfaction at the mess he’s made, “Now I can ruin you exactly how I want.”

You open up so pliant for him, massaging every bump and ridge along his long, long length while you let him skim past. Being split open so well. So maddeningly. 

Like you wanted to be ruined. 

And just the thought of it is enough to push Nanami over the edge of his sanity - and to push the entirety of his raw, needy cock inside your tight pussy. Finally. Finally bottoming out.

“Ngh- shit-” he lets out a long breath, sharp canines puncturing at the sensitive skin on your neck. Hips stuttering and getting sloppy with each jittery push deeper inside. Even when Nanami feels your hips fucking back into his to meet the brick wall of his toned abs. His twitching balls sensitive against your ass. “Now, lemme tell ya how how it’s been a-” Just slamming his hips into yours, a ruthless depraved cadence. Fingers ruthless on your clit. “-long fuckin’ day without you.”

♡ GETO SUGURU - Till m’stupid!

“P-please!” you try - and fail - to pull off his need mouth from your poor, overstimulated cunt. Fingers clasping desperately onto his long, inky hair. “I jus’ wan’ you in me- hah-”

It’s around your fourth orgasm that night when you’re finally crying out in surrender, big fat tears rolling down your cheeks with each high, legs spasming and trying to run away from Geto Suguru’s mean mouth. Your breath catching in your chest when he only hums around your ravaged clit in answer. 

“I dunno, gorgeous.” Geto teases, sloppy tongue darting around your pulsing hole. Stretching. Lapping up each and every drop of your syrupy cunt. “Don’ think she’s ready to take me, yet.”

Fuck, you knew what that meant. 

You knew that meant another few sweet rolls of Geto’s tongue against your clit, another few bullying praises spat into your sensitive cunt while he dragged you through another high - another orgasm that wasn’t on his swollen cock. 

And despite how much you loved the way your boyfriend teased and toyed your needy cunt with his mouth - you needed more. 

So you tug once again on his dark locks, tongue getting loose with delirium, “You’re so mean, Sugu. So what if I j-jus’ wan’ your cock.”

Oh how he loved to have you begging.

At this, his glassy eyes meet yours right from where Geto was still making out with your pretty pussy in a slow, languid kiss. The squelches and suckles ringing in your ears over your own words. His brow quirks, already with the nickname, huh? Interesting. 

“Can’t cum a-as good if it’s not on your cock.” you plow on. Oh, now it’s flattery? How cute. You manage to sputter out while your words don’t even slow him down, “And! And if you don’t-” Ah, Geto muses, this one’s probably the threat. What will it be? Last time it was making him do all the dishes. The time before that it was buying you that handbag you really loved- “-m’gonna go on a sex ban!”

Oh. 

Oh fuck. 

Now, if there’s one thing you know to never threaten Geto Suguru with, it’s a sex ban. But, alas, desperate times call for desperate measures. 

So here he was - face wrenching away from the honeypot of your sweet cunt like it hurt to leave. Eyes wide as he scrambles to meet you, your slick glistening down his gaping lips, his burning cheeks - fuck, he’s never looked prettier. 

“My baby…” Geto purrs into your ear, coming up to graze his lips against your in a messy crash of teeth and tongue. “Gorgeous, you never thought I’d be serious- right? Hah- sex ban my ass. You’re funny, real fucking funny.” But for all how confident he was, Geto was soothing out his words with the slightest tremor. Hastily sliding his furiously leaking tip between your sopping slit. Up and down up and down up and- “-cuz who said I could live another second without being in this cute pussy?”

As if to prove his point, Geto’s sliding his fat head past your puffy folds, stretching out your entrance so taut around his thick cock. 

A big hand of his finds its way onto the small of your waist, and in a split-second Geto has your position flipped so that he’s splayed out on the mattress instead. Your limp body now toppling precariously where you were sat on his swollen cock. 

“Oh.” his pretty mouth falls slack when his hazy eyes lock down at where the two of you were connected. Your pussy lips spread and sucking him up so well. He marvels, “Oh shit look at you. You always take it so well when you’re cockdrunk like this.”

And it’s true - Geto could barely feel that familiar little resistance of muscle. Instead, you’re letting his vein poke at your cunt welcomingly. Bullying himself inside.

You’re keening when an experimental thrust has Geto plunging in even deeper, throbbing veins massaging every nook and cranny of your gummy walls. You could feel him everywhere. And it’s like he could see the strain to take him. To milk him even greedier. 

“S-Sugu-”

“Shhh, this is what y’wanted, right?” he’s breathing, strained - like he’s at the end of his sanity with each inch you’re bouncing down his length. “To be fucked on my cock? No matter how big?”

You don’t even have the ability to respond at this point - just the way he liked it. That smart mouth of yours too drunk to think of anything other than him. To only whine when he pools your salty tears on his tongue, murmuring into your skin, “Now now, ‘nough with the cryin’ hah- you wanted to be fucked stupid- n’that’s exactly what m’gonna do.”

Ah, he loved this part. 

Loved how all those previous orgasms were crashing together to render you barely lucid when he’s shoving his entire cock up into your slutty hole. Glossy lips trembling when he hits the back of your cunt- already? Shit, that last orgasm must’ve hit you harder than he thought. 

That slightly upwards curve of his dick was driving you wild now buried to his hilt. And only shoving himself deeper with each grind that Geto was bucking up to. Until his heavy balls rested behind your ass, neat black happy trail rubbing up against your skin. Until it was impossible to go any deeper.

Your drunken eyes are snapping up in surprise when feeling him grow even thicker inside you, the rough girth shaping out your sloppy hole. He rasps out a chuckle, “Wonder how loose you’ll be after a fifth one, hm?”

♡ CHOSO KAMO - Make him break!

Now, Choso knew your dirty lil’ tricks, he knew not to trust that sultry curl of your lips when you called out to him. That dangerous little glint in your eyes when you begged him to go deeper, one he almost misses with the way your heavenly cunt was trying to suck him up greedily. Almost. 

Always playing with his sanity. 

Always asking for more. 

“But, baby.” he whines, pressing a concerned little peck to that adorable pout on your lips. Breath catching in his chest when you tug stubbornly on his bottom lip. “I don’t wanna- hah- don’ wanna hurt you, y’know?”

In response, you’re only wrapping your legs around his toned waist tighter, sure to leave sinful little marks at those dimples at the bottom of his spine. “I know what I want- n’ what I want is-” your elastic walls squeeze around his girth. Hard. “-more.”

Choso can’t help but let out a slow, hoarse drag of your name. Dark strands of his hair sticking to his forehead when he throws his head back, hips grinding down, down, down-

“Hah! You- oh-” his hazy eyes are flying open when he realizes he’s playing right into your evil hands. Biting his sharp canines down on your pulse - a little warning. “You know what happens when I go all the way, baby. M’not gonna fit- m’gonna lose control. M’gonna-”

“Please?” you hum sweetly.

He was about halfway in now - mouth watering at the way your pussy was spread open so shamefully for him. Already bulging and leaking onto the drenched silky sheets below with the struggle to take him - and you wanted more? 

“Tha’s right.” you hum, and it takes his saturated mind a second to realize he said that out loud. And even longer to blink up and meet your hungry gaze, “I want more, Cho.”

Fuck, and it was so unfair. Maybe it’s the nickname, maybe it’s the way you buck your hips up sloppily, lewd squelches ringing in his ear when you bully his swollen cock just an inch more. 

Maybe it’s just you. .

But that���s all it takes for him to gasp, eyes snapping wider - crazed even - hips stuttering so messily forwards before-

“Fuck, you’re such a little slut, baby.” And before you know it, Choso’s ramming his hips forwards. Letting the loud smack of skin-on-skin sound across the heady air, bruising. Painful, even. “Such a greedy little bitch-” Watching his throbbing length disappear, he’s sure it’ll leave marks - his heavy balls on your ass, toned pelvis against your thighs, fat cockhead hitting at your cervix. “-N’ s’what you’re gonna be treated like.”

It only takes one kiss of Choso’s leaky tip right against the bottom of your snug pussy before he’s cumming and cumming so hard you can almost feel him twitch at your lungs.

Not waiting for you to adjust, not even waiting for his high to bate. no, don’t make him laugh. Just spearing you on his long length, barely even easing your poor, quivering cunt into it before he’s fucking you into the mattress. 

Fully bottomed out now - exactly as you knew would happen.

“No- no no no hold on.” Choso holds both your thrashing legs still with one of his, pushing past that feeble resistance while he finds his rhythm at your gaping hole. “This is- hah-” he groans, voice shot over your wrecked ah! ah! ah! Plunging inside you like he was molding your pliant walls to his shape. “Told you m’gonna break ngh-”

He was massive already - barely even managing to squeeze past and massage your dripping cunt. But oh the sweet overfill of his seed had you keening, scrambling to grab onto the sheets, the headboard, his shoulders to keep even an ounce of your sanity.

“Ngh- fuck!” you whine at the feeling of rope after rope of his thick cum sloshing around inside your plush walls. His veins throb! throb! throbbing! against your sensitive spots to make such a mess of you below. “Fuck- jus’ like that, Cho- keep- hah- keep goin’”

And you didn’t even have to ask. As expected, your boyfriend’s brows after knitting together, pushing your legs so far apart it burned. Abs flexing as his hips moved in jagged, desperate pistons to massage your gummy walls. 

This was what you wanted so badly - the way he always breaks like this.

Always. 

“Y’asked for more n’ you’re gonna get it.” his voice stutters, cracking ever so slightly with each smash into that spongy bundle of nerves. “More- hah!” Letting out a humorless, almost-shrill laugh, “You knew this would happen, huh?”

You’re just batting your lashes deceivingly innocently, pressing a honeyed peck to Choso’s snarl, “I highly hah- doubt-”

“Look at you.” he spits at your bumbling retort, “Can’t even speak.” Two thick fingers coming up to circle the thick globs of seed pooled at your ravaged clit, purposefully grazing against the sensitive nub. “Fuckin’ wanted more and you’re gonna- get it.”

Slamming into you fast. Out of control. 

You open your mouth - no doubt to spit out some other taunt - but before the words leave your lips, he’s shoving his now-sloppy mess of his index and middle finger inside. Forcing the salty taste of his cum spilling out with each thrust, and the cool metal of his thick metal rings. You wanted to break him - and that’s what you’re gonna get. 

“So you hah- better shut up that pretty mouth of yours unless I break the bed again and you along with it”

♡ RYOMEN SUKUNA - Twin bitches, twin bitches

“Enough admirin’ me.”  Sukuna chuckles darkly from above you, reaching down to cradle your dazed head with a large, clawed hand of his. “The faster ya get back to doing yer lil’ job, the sooner that pretty cunt can take me.”

And it’s all you can do to heave for air, looking up defiantly at the two massive cocks kissing at your mouth. Barely getting a few breaths in before Sukuna’s hips thrust forwards once again to spear your heavenly mouth one of his swollen lengths. Smirking at the way your glossy lips bulge around him, “Yeah yeah, what? Got somethin’ to say, brat?”

You’re squeezing your soft palm up and down the drenched hilt of his other cock. Managing to gasp out, “I- want you-” Before your mouth is being fucked again like some little fucktoy - by both of them. Over and over. Taunting, “I want- you- now.”

“Now?” And Sukuna sounds genuinely surprised, baring his sharp canines in a shocked grin. “Y’think you can hah- already take me now?” Hissing as he drags your sloppy mouth up and off his sensitive lengths, only to question. “You sure about that?”

This angle gives you the perfect view of his intimidating cocks - massive, painfully hard. Fat tips flushed the same shade of pretty pink, angry and weeping all over your swollen lips. Twin veins throbbing urgently at your hot breath, both swollen lengths twitch so animalistically when you spit. Once. Twice. 

“Heh- you always do surprise me, lil’ human.”

And shit you were goading him into it - toying with him. 

But you didn’t expect that in all of two seconds, Sukuna would be lifting you easily off the ground with two big arms, wrapping your boneless legs around his waist to fit you snugly like a puzzle piece against his muscled body.

“Wh-what-”

“Y’asked, my girl.” he whispers, ragged at what a needy lil’ slut you were being for him right now. His other two free arms aligning both leaky tips at your quivering cunt. “N’ since you’re so fuckin’ spoiled, guess I gotta always hah- give ya what you want, huh?”

“You mean- oh-” It’s right around this time that you can’t think - you can’t even breathe. Can’t do anything but surrender to the two massive lengths bullying past your stretchy ring of muscle. Molding the entrance of your cunt to the shape of his cocks.

“Mmm fuck m’never gonna get tired of this stretch.” he’s groaning throatily, humming with each little half-thrust inside you. Just barely a push and pull. “So wet n- how the fuck hah- are you this tight?”

You scoff, mouth sharp even when it feels like he’s splitting you in half, “I can think of ngh- t-two reasons.”

And then Sukuna has the audacity to throw his head back and laugh - laugh - loud and baritone, the force of his chest rumbling having you slipping deeper and deeper down his massive cock. Losing your barely-there footing with each inch he’s feeding into your needy cunt. 

You sputter, “Ngh- f-fuck you’re in so deep.”

“F-f-fuck you’re in so deep.” Sukuna mimics your moans in a pitch much higher than his own. Giving the fat of your ass a sharp smack! as he massages your way down. “M’not even hah- halfway in yet so ya better buckle up, brat.” 

And it was true - he was still pushing in desperate, purposeful ruts upwards of his hips. Short strokes that you’d never have the king of curses do - unless he was feeling particularly nice. 

Your legs dangle in midair, nails digging into his tan skin with each smack of his heavy set balls with each movement, leaving a smear of precum and spit. Sliding you down so much easier than he thought it would. Down, down, down…

“Ya feel me in here?” you’re gasping at the pressure of one of his sharp nails. Dangerous. Trailing down, down, down to draw an imaginary line on your stomach. One. And another one not too long aways, “And here?” At your cockdrunk little nod, he smiles - dark and wild. “Use your words if you ah- want what’s comin’.”

He feels you milk his cocks even harder at that, like you’re trying to drag out something delicious when you squeal, “Can feel you- can’t feel anything but you-”

The tip of his thick finger dances higher and higher. And he gruffs out, “Well, soon enough m’gonna be- hah here!”

That deep promise is all that runs through your oversaturated mind before Sukuna’s ramming into you - no mercy. Just shoving you down his throbbing cock until he could see them bulge outwards from your supple skin, leaving a lewd little mark right where he predicted it would be. 

Bullseye. 

“Oh fuuuuck, so nice n’ tight f’me.” Sukuna whimpers - he whimpers. Fuck, the feeling of your walls trying desperately to take shape to his cocks so addictive. So dizzying the way he can feel himself rubbing against one another, bulbous veins throbbing in time to an erratic staccato. “So nice and- and-” he’s losing his words now, slurring with each languid half-thrust up into your cervix. “-mine.”

The word seemed to have made something so feral and dark poke its head out of Sukuna’s exterior. Because then he’s dragging you sloppy cunt like he owned her, all the way from his weeping tips down until your clit was scratching against those tufts of pink at his hilt. 

Slamming into you promisingly until you see stars, until you’re cumming. Electricity running through your veins just at the feeling of being so full. 

Fucking you through your high, Sukuna only taunts, “Now this is where the real fun starts.”

♡ GOJO SATORU - NO CONTROL

“Why the- why the fuck-” your gasp is drowned out by the sharp rip! of fabric echoing across your boyfriend’s luxurious childhood bedroom. Pieces of your poor panties currently laying in tatters on its hardwood floor, “-do they make these things so easy access?”

As if they could be anything but easy access. 

Not with the way Gojo had you bent over the nearest desk he could find, your wrists pinned, skirt bunched up, cunt slobbering and already struggling around where he was just dipping his fat head inside. 

Yet, you still manage to hiss over your shoulder, “If- if it’s so ‘easy access’ then why the fuck did you hah- rip it, you fool?”

But ah you should’ve known better than to give Gojo Satoru one of your glares. Because that along with your honeyed insults have him twitching ferally inside you, the curve of his cock jolting perfectly against your hidden sweet spot. Of course. 

“Because.” he gives you a sly chuckle, the very tip of his aching cock dragging along your gummy walls. “You should know this by now.” Nipping at the shell of your ear, “M’so big that even those panties are a problem, sweetheart.”

And oh the smug bastard, he’s pushing into your heavenly cunt in languid grinds. Savoring. Hypnotic. 

You’re gasping when one of his calculated thrusts mashes against your sensitive areas, the slow push and pull having your nails almost digging into the wooden desk. Scrambling onto your very tip-toes to glide your gummy walls against his thick length.

“Toru…” you moan, hissing in warning. “Y-you better be quiet or else your hah- your parents are gonna hear us.”

“Hah! Me? Me?” he cackles, drinking in your bleary gaze, the way your mouth was falling slack with each tempo of his hips. “Think you should be more ngh- worried about yourself, sweetheart.” He’s pressing a hot mess of a kiss one your swollen lips, your shoulders. Down, down, down wherever he could reach down your arched spine, “Besides. We’ll be s-sneaky, m’jus’ puttin’ in the-”

And perhaps for the first time in his life, the great Gojo Satoru is utterly speechless. Words catching in his chest at the sinful sight right below him. 

Your legs spread, shaking. Inner thighs smeared with the glossy sheen of the mess he’s making of your poor cunt. And you pussy- oh fuck, your pussy. With your puffy folds spread, bulging even with the effort to take it just past his fat head. Quivering and struggling with each experimental grind. 

Fuck, it was hard to look at it, too. It made him throb so painfully - it made him grow bigger. 

“Ngh! What the fuck-” you spit at the feeling of that familiar burn, your syrupy walls being stretched to their absolute limits. 

“Shhh shhh- change of plans, sweetheart.” Is all Gojo grunts in response, bending his long, long legs at the knees to bully himself inside easier. Two big arms wrapping around your middle, reaching over to give your clit a determined swivel of his fingers. “M’gonna go about- halfway? Yeah, halfway.”

And yet, he sounds unsure himself. Voice just a pitch higher, breathy, like he was losing more and more of his sanity with each little half-thrust he’s gifting your poor cunt with. 

Just quick, methodical little kisses of his hips to yours, heavy balls smacking against your thighs with each inch your greedy cunt is swallowing up. Milking the absolute fucking soul out of him.

“F-fuck!” you keen when that thick vein of his down the middle massages your good spot. The adorable sound making Gojo’s eyes light up, smirking as he hikes his knee up higher to piston deep into your dripping pussy. Heady with the squelches from below. “Th-this is hah more than- half Toru-”

Fuck, was it? 

Gojo hadn’t even noticed - too drunk on the way you were squeezing his poor, overworked cock so tight. Until it was almost difficult to plunge into your dripping cunt - to split you apart on it exactly the way he wanted. 

But, well, now that he was taking a long, hard look - he was just a bit more than halfway through. Brows raising in delight at the way your hips are pushing back in mindless little swivels for more. 

“Then, I guess-” he trails off, two large hands of his coming to rest at your waist. A disappointed whine rips from the back of your throat when his ruthless hips slow down to a still, pulsing with anticipation. “-might as well finish the job.”

“Oh- what- you fuckin’-” The rest of your sentence is swallowed up in the way he rolls his hips forwards - fully. Inch by fucking inch. Catching in your ring of resistance less than all the way through, but still pushing. Still rutting forwards so animalistically. “Toru—” You whine at the stretch, the pure dizzying feeling of him shaping your cunt to the thick girth of his swollen cock. “S’too big- I can’t ngh-”

Pretty pink lips shut up your babbling mouth, murmuring deeply, “No no no no- no you can take it- you can oh.” Long, slender fingers coming up to roll against your poor clit, loosening your feeble reisstance, “Look at the- fuck jus’ look at the way you want me.” And you’re barely registering the hand smushing your cheeks together in an embarrassing pout, forcing you to look down at the steady, lazy torture of him splitting you apart on his massive cock. “This isn’t even fuck- me. Look at how you’re fucking back. How you want me so badly.”

And, usually, you’d snap at Gojo - tell him he’s too cocky for his own good. 

But it was true. 

You were meeting his sloppy, untimed bounced halfway through. Helping yourself be fucked into that expensive desk. And he’s pushing - so persistent. 

So utterly wrecked when his leaky tip nudges against your spongy cervix, stars behind his eyes when his heavy balls smack your thighs. Unstopping - not until your ass was settled snugly against those tufts of white at his base. Finally, all the way in.

Through it all, he manages to rasp out, “Hey, did ya know the walls in his house are soundproofed?”

“...”

“So why don’t we go a proper round, sweetheart? Or five?”

A/N. I did NOT expect these to get so long but yk what I’m not upset.

Plagiarism not authorized.

[flowafairy]

holding you , holding me ✿ bllk men

﹒postscript : when they realise they’re in love, with you. ɞ‎ feat. nagi, reo, rin, karasu, shidou, sae, kaiser ɞ‎ cw fem reader in a few, banter, suggestive

nagi realises he’s in love with you when the late night calls start getting more frequent. he had started craving your presence more and more. hell, he felt lovesick.

“what a hassle..” nagi’s head flops against the bed sheets, his gaze constantly shifting to his phone to see if you’ve replied to his text yet.

the nagi waiting for your texts? not to mention texting first, call a man whipped!

”i only take a few second’s to reply..” nagi picks up his phone again, grumbling when his notifications are empty. if he replies as soon as you do, why do you have to spend the next 3 decades replying back?

nagi’s usually the one who replies and then logs on minecraft for hours. him replying in mere seconds at your texts—you’re definitely special. very special in his eyes, oh. there’s something else that caught his eyes.

nagi’s phone lit up with a notification, from you.

sure! it’s a date then :))

cool, :x. 7PM?

reo realies he’s in love with you when his pockets really start to hurt.

i mean really. he’s been spoiling you relentlessly for the past few weeks. even if you insist you don’t need a new shirt, by tomorrow your closet is filled with them.

you just can’t seem to escape his mind. whenever he walks by the street and spots a store, his first thought goes to you, that maybe you’d like this. that maybe he should buy it for you—of course he will.

“you know.” reo smiles at you as you try on the new necklace he bought for you. “i booked a dinner for us, just us.”

“oh?” you hum, still struggling with the hook. “can you help me?”

“sure.” he’s more than happy to help you hook your necklace—a chance to put his hands on you? he’ll take it gladly.

“so about that dinner..” his hands swiftly clasp your necklace around your neck. “are you coming or what?”

“i don’t know… the mikage reo taking me out?” you grin up at him. “im a little shy.”

you and reo laugh soundly, well, looks like you’ve got a date tonight.

rin couldn’t believe it.

he’s in love with you, playback—he’s in love.

it started off with smaller details, like how he would leave his soccer practice or gym earlier than usual to see you. and also how his messages app slowly started to become his most used app.

soccer wasn’t everything anymore, he had you too now.

“don’t make me waste money on this lukewarm shit ever again.” rin gruffed as he watched you sip the drink he had bought you from the convenience store earlier.

normally, he’d never waste his money on some useless milkshake from the store, that’s not even good for your body. but seeing you contentedly gulp at the fresh taste of your drink, he can’t seem to hold himself back.

“give me some.”

the words slip out of his tongue before he can control them.

“you wanna try?” well he’s definitely colored you surprised now. “come here then, rinnie.”

rin could feel his face slightly heat up at the nickname. he scoots closer to you, snatching the drink from your hand with no warning.

“hey!” you glare at him as he drinks the entire thing in one gulp, definitely not what you anticipated. “that was mine, you were supposed to take a sip.” you huff at him.

rin only rolls his eyes. “i paid for it. ill buy you a new one later.” your eyes sparkle at his words.

“fine, you win.” you smile. “im going to get going before you become grumpy and tell me to shoo.” you give him a teasing wink, about to get up from his couch when suddenly he grabs your arm.

“wait.” he grits his teeth, biting back words. “don’t go.”

“rin?”

“just, don’t.”

“you missed me, huh?” karasu smirks. he had his hair down, for once not put up with an insane amount of gel—karasu in all his glory.

“i didn’t.” you huff at him. “you look even uglier with your hair down.”

“yer’ comparing my beauty to your birds nest?” karasu crosses his arms, leaning against the door.

“oh, we can see them split ends girl.” you roll your eyes.

karasu has always loved bantering with you, but nowadays, it seems as if his heart has been telling him thats not the only reason his heartbeat speeds up whenever he’s around you.

he loves bantering with you, he loves you.

there’s a prolonged silence, karasu’s anticipating if he should say what he’s about to say. he usually isn’t this nervous—you’re the exception to that.

“you think you wanna go out sometime, yeah?” it’s the way his sharp eyes soften that makes your heart start doing flips.

“yeah, i do.”

there’s a moment of comfortable silence, your brain ingraving the memory in the back of your head. which of course, quickly gets ruined by his cocky smirk. he wasn’t the best at dealing with these moments

“even y’can’t resist my charm.” karasu sticks his tongue out at you. “ill pick you up at 9.”

“you… get back here!”

shidou could feel a wide grin on his face as he read your message—“sure, i’d love to go sky diving with you!”

anybody would of said that is a crazy idea for a first date, but you? you can say you definitely match his freak.

his heart explodes into a burst of enthusiasm whenever you’re around him. he can feel a rush of serotonin whenever you accidentally brush your hands against his.

oh he was so in love. he is definitely wifing you up when you deploy the parachute- how could he not when he feels like he’s going to explode with all these bottled up feelings.

he in fact had a very disappointed pout on his face when you said it was far too soon for marriage, so what if you’re not dating yet? you can start now!

your betrayal will not be forgotten. but hey, he can try again next year.

sae realised he’s in love with you when you started becoming an avid figure in his daily routine.

it was like muscle memory for him to wake up and check for your good morning text, never failing to emit an amused scoff from his lips.

of course, he acknowledged the fact that he was in love with you. but would he dare entertain the thought and risk the beloved friendship you already have? never.

“nobody’s looking.”

this was dangerous. he has you trapped against the wall in the locker room, his lips tantalisingly close to yours. he wasn’t suppose to be doing this—but how could he resist when you came to see him at practice?

“sae…we can’t here.” you try to be rational, but your breathing is just as heavy as his.

“just shut-“

footsteps. someone was coming. sae pushes you away behind a locker so nobody see’s you, leaning against the wall nonchalantly.

maybe next time he’ll get you.

kaiser took some time to notice his feelings, but even he started getting self conscious of all the excuses he started making to touch you, and the flirting was starting to cross a few boundaries as well.

maybe he’s just lust-driven, that’s all he thought for a while. he chose to distance himself, and you didn’t miss the change in his behaviour.

he thought distancing himself would help ease his feelings.. not make them worse.

he can feel his heart throbbing, mind full with only thoughts of you—is it love or is it lust?

he doesn’t know, he’s never felt like this before. what even is love? thats stupid.

“hey.” he smirks, grasping your hand, a habit of his by now. “what are you up to, schatz?” the light-hearted pet name rolls off his tongue smoothly.

“michael.” you look at him, eyes widening a little. “i haven’t seen you in forever.” his expression slightly wavers at that.

“oh i’ve been.. busy.” he lies, smiling. the truth is, he hasn’t been busy at all. he’s been avoiding you, you and your precious smile.

“its okay.” you pat his shoulder. “i just missed you.”

“i missed you too.” he blurts out unknowingly, slightly flinching at what he said. “i’ve been avoiding you.” he confesses.

your eyebrow’s slightly raise at that. “…why?”

“because.. i don’t know.”

your hands hesitantly reach out. you knew how he was about physical touch, but maybe just this once he needs it.

he bents down a little, his face hitting your shoulder as he reciprocated your hug.

“Ich liebe dich.”

apologies, some parts aren’t as long as the others. i got lazy ( and have favorites… ✌️) only 7 chrc bc i had no ideas for isagi

[yeyinde]

You want a baby. Simon can't get over his hangups to give you one. The solution to both problems? Johnny.

18+ SMUT. breeding. mildly dubious consent. Johnny feasts on your pussy and then does his best to knock you up while Simon watches. slight body worship. bastardization of religious imagery. Mean!Dom Simon. rough, messy sex.

He's not the type to saw off his own hand to feed you, but would rather find a third man to satiate you both. The only one who can care for you, he said. Can't do that when he's dead, can he?

Maybe that's why he calls for Johnny.

down boy. eager mutt. lil' pyedogs got himself all twisted up in a rutt. help him, won't you, pet?

Johnny's softer than Simon but only just. This margin of distance, however, could be the gaping maw of a canyon for how wide it really is when scaled down to fit. Boxed inside a narrow bed—on your belly, cheek on Simon's knee; ass up, legs spread. Johnny behind you—colluvium to Simon's mountainside, but still so broad, so thick, your hips twinge with the effort of keeping your knees so wide apart.

You feel it whistling through the chasm when he licks his lips behind you—a loud, lascivious smack, a wet suckle—and feel the burn of his stare riveted on the split of your flesh. This bare seam Simon swears he found nirvana tucked deep inside of. A buried ravine. Aquifer he quenches himself on.

A pilgrimage Johnny has been aching to take.

And that's what this is, isn't it? Yatra to the hidden piscina. A procession to pollute the tarn—something Simon can't bring himself to do.

Bad genes. Trauma—sticky, noxious tar that oozes from the rotting filaments; festering deep inside. Cancerous: a mass you long to cleave from bone but know it's not cosmetic. Not just the ball joints, or the studs, but the foundation itself. If you start tearing up pieces now you'll have nothing but an empty plot and a pile of damaged debris.

So:

Enter the third man.

A tool. Vassel. Pays fealty by fucking a baby into your womb.

It's what you wanted, isn't it?

(yes, but—)

It happens faster than you can keep up with. Hands on your hips. Coarse hair tickling the back of your thigh. Warm breath against sticky, wet flesh. A broad nose parting your folds. Inhale. Exhale on a deep, reedy groan.

"fuck, ye smell heavenly, doe."

Simon hums before you can peel your tongue from the roof of your mouth, answering for you with a brassy invitation: tastes even better, Johnny.

It's all the permission he needs before he pushes his head closer to your bare cunt, groaning as his tongue cleaves a silky, thick line between your folds. Gorging himself without much preamble. Hands curled around your hips like expensive silverware, pulling you back into the wanting, eager suck of his mouth.

All at once, it's too much. Your hips shift, squirming away from his tongue, the too-sharp press of his teeth against soft, sensitive flesh. Mewling, whimpering into the rain-wet fabric of Simon's jeans.

His hand falls on your head. A gentle tap. Behave, it says, but you can't.

Johnny tramples over that thin line between pleasure and ecstasy, blurring them both until it becomes pain. Overwhelming. Shoving you towards the edge before you've readied yourself for the fall.

"Can't, Simon, can't—"

The words elide, slurring into a high-pitched whine as Johnny feasts on your cunt. Devours you from the inside out—all teeth and tongue, sucking your clit until your thighs cramp from how tight your muscles tense, bleeding lactic acid over sore flesh. The scrape of his stubble over your folds, chafing them until they are raw. Swollen. Drenched hole fucked with the spear of his tongue, digging so deep you begin to fear that he's trying to crawl inside of you. Salt your womb with his own two hands—

"Can take it, birdie," is all Simon says before his hand slides down your arched, trembling spine. Fingers digging into the meat of your cheek, spreading you wider for Johnny to eat. "Look how eager he is. Can't get enough of that sweet cunt."

"It's—it's too much—"

You don't feel him move. Can't see much from the blurry tears in your eyes. But his other hand whips out, cracking over your untouched cheek in a firm, burning smack. One that makes Johnny moan when it lands. Cruel. Open palm. Hard enough to leave a welt in the shape of his hand—something that makes him groan when he sees it.

"fuckin' hell—" his fingers dig into the aching flesh, grip bruising.

Johnny peels his wet, open mouth away long enough to pant into the slick spread of your cunt, resting his cheek on the swell of your ass. "Bit rough wit' 'er, Lt."

Simon considers it. Body shaking the bed when he shrugs, leaning back to trail his hand back up your spine, curling over the arch of your nape. Keeping you still as you sob into his knee. "She likes it."

"know she does. Fuck, Lt. Can feel 'er little pussy twitching. Tryin' tae suck me in."

Another hum. The grip on your asscheek eases as his hand peels away, sliding over swell before notching a finger between your cleft. Dry. Rough. It drags down your seam until it brushes over your fluttering hole, calloused tip digging in.

"soft, too, ain't it?" He asks, words mockingly cruel in their conversational tone. Nonchalant. But Johnny's hands tighten on your waist, palms slick with sweat. Glueing to your flesh. You can tell he likes that. Likes the way Simon talks about you. Demeaning and brutish. Butcher selling a piece of meat. "Bit of a tight fit at first—" he curls his finger inside of you, stretching your sore walls with the width of his knuckle. Sinking in deep. Another follows before you can remember how to breathe around the sting. "But swallows you up like a goddamn dream, Johnny."

His breaths grow ragged. "Fuck, Lt. Look at th'."

It makes you clench up around Simon's fingers, embarrassment scorching through your chest. "Please—"

Neither of them acknowledge you. Simon's fingers split, spreading wide apart as Johnny shuffles forward for a closer look, and nearly choking on his next inhale when he does.

"such a pretty fuckin' pussy—" he says it like a curse. Spitting the words out on a snarl. Angry, now, for reasons you can't discern slobbering over Simon's leg. "God, Lt. ah cannae—"

Johnny shifts back. You hear the clink of a belt. The rip of a zipper. Choked groans barely swallowed down as Simon buries his fingers inside of your weeping cunt over and over again, blunt tips cruelly skating over a spot inside, just behind your navel, that makes you feel liquid and loose between your hips. Debris floating down a whiteriver.

Pleasure peaks with each brutal thrust until you're howling into his leg, unable to move with their hands on your body, holding you down. Making you take it. Making you come undone as Johnny watches.

"fuck, fuck, Lt—she's gonna cum, ain't she?"

"Wanna feel it, Johnny?"

Simon's name falls out of his mouth on a whispered prayer. Drenched in thick reverence. Arched in need.

"aye, sir—" there's something about the hush of his voice, the way it slurs into putty. Enshrining his need in a halo of gold. It sends shivers down your spine. Heats you up fast like a fever. Sends you screaming over the edge—

"gonna miss it, Johnny. She's squeezin' me so fuckin' tight—"

Whatever else they say is swallowed by the keen clawing at the hollow of your throat when you feel the blunt, fat press of his cock knocking against your swollen, stuffed rim.

It's a burning thing—a sharp, heavy ache. Knock, knock. Simon spreads his fingers again, forcing you open. Pulling your hole wide apart for Johnny's engorged head to push up against.

It feels like being split down the middle. Ripped apart. Simon's fingers flex around your nape, thumb brushing soothingly against the knob of your spine.

Can take it, he mutters, brassy and low. A rumble just for you. Gotta take it, birdie.

You forget why. Why you need Johnny's too big, too fat cock inside of your cunt until the head bullies through, scissoring Simon's fingers apart until they're pressed tight on either side of the flared glands. Squeezed between your taut rim and Johnny's cock.

Johnny makes a noise like you've gutted him. A gutwrenching sob. "Oh, shite, Lt. M'—m'nae gonnae last—"

"gonna cum inside 'er, Johnny? Knock my pretty birdie up?"

Right. Right. A baby.

There's a heavy push. Your flesh wrenched apart to fit the fat, throbbing length of his cock—

(the cock that's gonna knock you up—)

Simon's fingers slip out of you as Johnny bucks forward, burying himself deep inside with a long, throaty groan. It's a horrible sensation—a bellyache. Without the splint of Simon's fingers forcing you open wide to near numbness, you're forced to feel the thick girth of his cock. Rim fluttering, spasming over the flared base. Too much, and somehow, not enough.

You sob through it. Each one ripples through your chest until it feels like it will collapse. Every inch of your body burns, throbbing. You don't think you'll survive this ache—

Johnny sets a brutal pace. Likes pistoning into you in quick succession until you're nearly howling into Simon's thigh before slowing to a crawl. Force-feeding you every inch. Making you feel every single one. Long strokes that batter the plug of your womb, bullying against the aching seal of your cervix until the flashes of pain, the savagery of this pleasure, makes you feel sick.

Getting fucked by Johnny like this is both a punishment and a reward. Baptism in hellfire.

Be careful what you wish for—

"gonnae fuck ye 'til it takes, doe. Knock ye up. Want th', don't ye? Aye. Can feel it. Feel this little cunt beggin' fer ma cum. Dinnae worry. Ahm gonnae give it tae ye. A' o' it, doe. Every—fuckin'—drop—"

Each awful word lands like acid on your spine. Chewing through flesh, tissue, until it melts bone below. Liquified. Helpless.

And with Johnny's hands on your hips, anchoring you in place as he hammers into your sore, abused pussy, possessed with the need to carve a space inside of your flesh where only he fits, rots, and Simon's hand on the scruff of your neck, holding you down, there's nowhere to run. Nowhere to escape the ragged breaths that spill from Johnny's slick mouth, the desperate way he pumps into you—thrusts growing sloppy as he stretches towards the precipice they dangle you off of, kicking and screaming as the scent of iron fills your nose, as his flared cockhead scrapes over that place you thought only Simon would ever know. Bluntly battering into the altar that sits, nestled behind your navel, like he's allowed.

Holy offering in a handful of seeds he'll sow over fecund land until something grows.

"Look at you take it," Simon coos, sticky, damp fingers petting over your tear-stained cheeks. It smells of loam. Salt. Iron and ozone. "So pretty when you're gettin' bred, ain't you, birdie?"

It rips a mournful keen from your chest, a feverish moan following on its heels when the lewd squelch, the echoing slapslapslap of Johnny driving into your cunt fills your ears. So wet, so messy, you can feel the slick drying, tacky and thick, on the inner crease of your bent knee.

"He's gonna put our baby in you, ain't he, birdie? Like a good mutt—"

The hands holding you over the precipice let go. Johnny's answering moan spears into your head, fluttering around the pulsing heartbeat of liquid bliss frothing in the pit of your belly. Overflowing over the rim.

Too much, you think, but that's not quite right because you can't feel anything at all except the length of his thick cock lodged deep inside you. Throbbing in tandem with your second pulse.

"gonnae cum, Lt. Gonnae—oh, fuck, Lt—"

His voice is a warm river washing over your spine. Pooling ecstacy. Something heavenly. Divine—

Molten gold blooms in the pit of your belly. Cockhead spitting against the seal of your womb as he cums, filling you to the brim. Fucking it into you even as his cock softens, unable to pull out he says.

Feels like fuckin' heaven, Lt.

"ain't she just?" Simon volleys back, sounding oddly dissonant. Off-key. "Pretty little birdie got what she wanted, huh?"

The drawl of his tone—acid-scorched, electric—forces you to blink through the tears, lifting your aching, wet eyes upwards at him. Searching.

He has the eyes of a predator. Leonine. The gaze of a beast after it's devoured something whole. His touch is as gentle as he can be—a rough, cracked scratch over your blistered cheeks—and when he meets your divining stare, he coos.

"Maybe I'll 'ave a go next time."

In the pounding, soporific slurry of your mind, you can't wrap your head around the words. Can't make sense of them. Struggling to keep your burning eyes open, even.

Not that it matters.

Johnny huffs a scorching breath of laughter over your sweat-slicked spine before wedging his forearm under your belly. Keeping your hips tipped up as he falls into you, resting his broad chest against your back and smothering you into the damp mattress.

"Yer cruel, Lt," he rasps, chin nuzzling over the arch of your shoulder, cock giving a feeble twitch inside of you at something you can't seem to piece together.

"m'jus' givin' my pretty bird exactly what she asked for." Huh? He prods, fingers tapping over your cheek when your swollen eyes slide shut. "Forgettin' y'manners, ain't you? Say thank you, pet."

With Johnny's half-formed chuckle echoing in your head, you mumble the words out on an exhausted sigh.

"an' say thank you to this mutt f'knockin' you up."

It comes out slower this time. Sluggish. His cock gives another twitch as he buries his face between your shoulder blades, smothering a groan.

"Sweetest thing, Lt. Christ—"

"more where that came from, Johnny. Jus' you wait an' see." Another tap. You mewl in response, feeling war-torn and achy. Unable to open your eyes for a second time, all you can do is whimper, burying yourself into his thigh. Pleading, silently, for clemency. Later, you think. Later—

But Simon has other plans.

"Fallin' asleep on me, birdie? Ain't even gonna give me a chance to put my baby in you? Greedy little thing, ain't she?"

Buried under the weight of Johnny as he peppers sucking, open mouth kisses over the width of your shoulder, cum leaking out around the softening plug of his cock, all you can do is snuff out the sob on the arch of his knee, resisting the urge to bite instead.

"Maybe next time then, eh, birdie?" Since you've been so good for this mutt, huh? Maybe I'll give you a reward.

Just be careful what you wish for, huh, birdie.

[wriokitty]

Sukuna who was never close to his twin brother and never cared about the pipsqueak runt of a kid who’s his nephew.

He doesn’t care and doesn’t want to be associated with that bullshit. His brother doesn’t take the hint ever and invites him to everything. “My sons’s birthday party” this and “my son’s kindergarten graduation” that. What sort of graduation is meant for a kindergartener anyway? That’s a load of nonsense. But Jin is as annoying as ever with insisting on keeping contact and trying to get Sukuna involved and he hates it until by some tragedy out of nowhere, his brother and sister and law are dead. Yuuji’s left an orphan and no one can care for that kid because there’s no one left.

No one except Sukuna.

They ask him, too. The social workers. They turn to him and say some pitiful script about being “the only family left to take custody of him.” He knows pretty well what’s going to happen to the pipsqueak if he doesn’t agree. The foster care system and the possible horrors such a bright (even if annoying) kid could face makes him question saying no for a second. He’s surprisingly conflicted.

And it’s out of sheer impulsiveness alone does he end up as a single, grumpy, begrudging uncle who’s got custody of a child he never really cared to know in the first place.

And then he meets you.

Sweet, bubbly, warm, and so weirdly happy. Dictionary definition of what an elementary school teacher should be. Yuuji’s absolute favorite person on the planet as he waves hello at you enthusiastically every time that Sukuna drops him off and goodbye every time that Sukuna picks him up.

“I heard his new guardian would be his uncle. It’s nice to meet you,” you murmur to him the first day he picks up Yuuji after school, a look of pure melancholy on your face as you stare at him with an unearthly amount of compassion and sympathy. “Yuuji’s parents were wonderful people. I’m really sorry for your loss.”

“Wasn’t that close with either of them,” he grunts out. You look over at where Yuuji’s gleefully playing on the slide of the playground. Too young and innocent to realize that’s been ripped away from him. Too naive to understand what it means to grieve. Too hopeful about the world around him to realize just how cruel it can really be.

“Oh,” you murmur, nodding slowly.

He thinks that your unnaturally kind demeanor will finally be broken for a split second of judgement. What sort of heartless bastard doesn’t feel an ounce of grief for his own brother’s death? Instead, however, you seem to look at him with some weird sense of wonder.

“You’re a good uncle for stepping up regardless,” you say softly, “it’s more than what most would do in your shoes.”

“Yeah, whatever,” he clicks his teeth, unbearably uncomfortable with how weirdly sentimental this all is. “He’s just a five year old. How much trouble could he be?”

You raise a brow in amusement, eyeing him like he’s got one hell of a surprise waiting for him. He doesn’t like the vague way you hum, “Yeah. How could such a little human cause trouble, right?”

“I’ve got it under control,” he grumbles, a little annoyed that you seem to think that out of all things, a simple child would be enough to cause Sukuna any issues.

“Let me know if you need anything,” you smile.

Yuuji calls to you from the distance, squealing look what I can do! before he does a rather clumsy spin. Sukuna raises an unimpressed brow. You clap and praise him with an exaggerated gasp of approval.

It’s oddly endearing, he thinks to himself—you, not the kid. The kid’s barely tolerable.

“C’mon, you brat,” Sukuna calls. And then he looks at you and gruffly adds, “And I don’t need help.”

“Okay,” you grin brightly. It almost feels like you’re saying that a little sarcastically. “I’m sure you’ve got this parent thing down.”

Before he can even correct you that he’s an uncle, not parent, Yuuji comes running over on clumsy, short little legs and grabs onto Sukuna’s hand.

“C’mon, Uncle ‘Kuna!”

Sukuna doesn’t miss the way your eyes soften. Weirdly enough, he feels this odd sort of squeeze in his chest that doesn’t make any sense. Maybe he’s just getting old—that has to be it.

[demaparbat-hp]

Hiya!! 👋🏼😄 How's it going? Your fashion taste for Zuko in a Modern AU seems to be artsy, or maybe "formal" is the word. That shirt he wore when he gave Sokka romantic song advice looked Versace🧐. Anyway, I was wondering how you came up with it, he always struck me more as the type that didn´t care much about fashion, so I'm curious about other´s opinions and heacanons about it. And do you have any other fashion headcanons for the rest of the GAang? Also, their music tastes. How did you come up with them? Especially Katara's! 😍

Hello! As it happens, I have a lot of Thoughts and Feelings™ about this, so I'm leaving these over here, and the rest of my ramblings down below the cut!

Let us begin with the Gaang, shall we?

SUKI always struck me as that Pretty Girl from the Gym. She is so incredibly fit it isn't even funny. She could kick anyone's ass, and we'd all thank her. She has this casual gym style that somehow always looks glorious on her, as it should! Comfy yet fashionable clothes for a nice workout or a day in town.

Her music tastes are basically any and all power songs from the eighties and nineties. (Eye of the Tiger, anyone?) She also enjoys metal via Toph, and bands like BSB, NSYNC, or Boyz II Men with Katara. My girl has a very eclectic Playlist and we all love her for it.

SOKKA is That Guy™. Loose T-shirts and shorts everywhere he goes, no matter the weather. He's stupidly into fashion but it doesn't show! At all! And everyone teases him about it. His closet is about 90% Cactus Juice merchandise, hence the "it's the quenchiest!" shirt.

His fashion and music tastes are pretty much the same. He loves poetry but isn't really into lyrics. He'll misinterpret just about anything you place in front of him. His Playlist is mostly vibes and tiktok songs he kind of enjoys. He isn't really into music...at least not as much as his sister.

AANG owns exactly one hoodie, one pair of shorts, and one beanie (THE beanie). Oh, and the crocs—don't forget the crocs. Somehow, he's always wearing the exact same outfit. Every. Single. Day. Ancient Gaang lore suggests that the day Aang goes out without his beanie, it's the end of the world.

His Playlist is the poppiest, most bizarre thing ever. Every single song is Happy by Pharrell Williams levels of happy. Yet sometimes, among the bouncy dance-to songs, you'll find the strangest of things... (He does know what Good Day by Twenty One Pilots is about. That's the reason he likes it so much, actually. And it's so weird.)

KATARA is all about sundresses and loose pants. The epitome of comfortable loveliness. Light fabrics in blue shades, careful embroidery, delicate shoes, and little to no accessories—hers is a simple, yet quite adorable, style. She just needs to add more colors to her usual palette...

She is, first and foremost, a Florence + The Machine girl. It's the Dark Goddess of the Sea vibes, to be honest. Florence Welch is her idol and yes, she will fight you about lyrics interpretation, and win. It may not seem like it, but her music tastes are also very varied.

She draws a little from each member of the Gaang, so you'll hear her humming along to Gorillaz (where did you even find out about them, Aang?), The Weeknd (I...don't think this song means what you think it means, Sokka...), and Hozier (Zuko why did you dedicate Talk to me, Zuko WHAT DID YOU MEAN BY THAT).

TOPH...ah, lovely girl. I'll summarise everything about Toph’s fashion sense in two words: comfort and rebellion. Stuffy dresses forced on her by billionaire parents? No thank you! Give her tank tops with loose shirts and short pants. Bandaids shared with Aang, bracelets from Katara, and even piercings she got in tandem with Sokka. Shoes? What even is that?

Something I love about this fandom is our collective agreement that Toph is into the dirtiest, heaviest, most ear-splitting and soul-crushing death metal of all times. Her Playlist is full of the most obscure names to ever exist, and she can and will blast through your walls with the sheer volume of her speaker.

Zuko. ZUKO.

Even in a modern AU my boy must suffer. That being said, I envision Tales from the Couch as—well, exactly what it is: an ATLA modern AU. While there is not a war to fight, and a lot of plot lines are discarded or expanded upon, much about the core story remains the same.

This is my way of saying that Zuko still goes trough his redemption arc, and it reflects on his fashion choices.

The way you described it works perfectly because of one single reason: in this AU, Zuko is an artist. He had to suppress his love for writing and drawing because of his background and the expectations Ozai had for him (taking over the family company), and a very large part of his redemption arc directly affects his relationship with art.

In the Couch equivalent of S1, Zuko has fallen out of Ozai's graces, and is desperate to protect his place in the company and the Kasai household. He's pretending to be someone he isn't and trying to live up to his Father's image of a perfect heir while still being somewhat cut-off financially, and it shows.

He's all about imposing long coats and a semi-formal style, imitating what he knows Azula and Father would respect. He's striking and sharp and dark. But no matter how he dresses or carries himself (that air of cold superiority and arrogance)—it won't help him when he needs it the most.

In S2, Zuko has hit his lowest point. He's officially disinherited and tossed away by his father, and would be out in the streets if it wasn't for Uncle Iroh. He goes from sharp, high-tailored outfits to old second-hand clothes that hang loosely on his frame. He starts smoking and cuts his hair off, forgoing the undercut for the first time in years.

But then...Father accepts him back. When Zuko returns home, it's with respect to his name and a very high position in his father's company. He's finally the perfect Kasai heir, dressed in overly expensive suits and finery, even at home... But Father forbids him from wearing Lu Ten's earring, and Zuko can no longer recognize himself without the familiar glint of gold dancing on his peripheral vision.

When Zuko leaves the Kasai name behind him and goes back to living with Uncle Iroh...he's finally at peace with who he is, and what he wants in this life. The sharp edges aren't gone (they'll always be a part of him, after all), but now they're dulled by looser clothes and softer hairstyles.

He's an artist, and for once in his life, he is determined to pursue his own ambitions. Zuko's outfits may not be designer-made anymore, but he takes what he has and makes himself look like he wants to look, like the person he wants to be.

He doesn't read fashion magazines or keeps up to the latest trends like Azula does. He's just...Zuko. And his newfound confidence makes everything he wears look like it belongs on him.

As for music...well, Ursa raised a literature boy.

He loves lyric-heavy music and natural voices, be they soothing or powerful. Dissecting song meanings and possible interpretations with Katara is one of his favorite parts of the day. They're both very passionate and strong-minded individuals, so it stands to reason that their debates can get quite...heated.

Zuko's Playlist is both incredibly eclectic and somehow very...him. There's a common thread that binds together every song and artist he likes, and he's hilariously unaware of this. To take a look into his Playlist is a higher honor reserved only for those closest to him.

In the wide spectrum of things, it is no wonder that Zuko is, first and foremost, a Hozier man. But though Andrew is his God in all aspects of this life, there's someone else that has had a huge impact on him...

Two someones, actually.

Zuko refuses to tell anyone how he got into Twenty One Pilots, but it's kind of a moot point when the beginning of his obsession is nothing compared to everything that came after. They have just about the right amount of everything that makes Zuko...well, Zuko. The poetic lyrics, the soothing or raging music, the heavy, intensely resonant themes...

Up there, in the second artwork, I placed an album cover behind each period of Zuko's life. The election of these records is intentional, as I feel like their general themes work incredibly well with Zuko's arc and growth.

Blurryface in S1. For the demons within us. For giving a name to our fears and shame.

Trench in S2. For escaping the confined walls of a depression city, and fighting to understand the depths of the map of your mind.

Scaled and Icy in the first half of S3. For returning to places you had left behind. For convincing yourself and everyone around you that you're fine, that you're perfect, even though everything is crumbling inside...

Clancy in S3. For recognizing that you can backslide, that you can have fears and shame and pain—but you're shaping yourself with each step you take. For knowing that seeking help from others is okay. Nobody learns to walk on their own.

(And, in the end, you'll always be better than the person you were yesterday. If only because you're still here. You're still alive. You're still yourself.)

.

Overall, I rambled a bit too much, don't you think?

If you made it all the way down here—thank you so much for reaching out and being interested in this crazy AU! I hope you enjoy these ideas and tell me some of your own ❤️

[inkskinned]

you know, you know. no gods, no masters, no kings on pedestals. everyone is fallible. death of the author. you know! you are balanced about your intake of media - you allow the wiggle room, the grace, the gratitude, the skepticism. nobody above criticism.

but still. a weird gut-punch feeling, something akin to betrayal. you read the article. surprise! an author you love is actually: a serial fucking predator.

well, shit. what now. no, you knew he was a person (all people are), but now you're wondering - what have i overlooked by accident? what messages have i internalized that are strange and cruel? and also, like, what the fuck?

his actions lay a thick glaze on top of everything. like each place is now ruined, opaque in a new way. but okay, fine, you've done this before. you knew better, right? you've been betrayed by many a cherished childhood author.

still, this stickiness. fuck. can you pick up that book again. will you read it to your children. you've recommended it to others - will you ever do that again? and of course, of course, no parasocial relationships. you were theoretically above this kind of sentiment. but the artist informs the art, right.

so it's not something as clear-cut as feeling he owed you, specifically (a stranger) better behavior - just that you kind of, in a distant and odd way... sort of trusted him to do better. it's not like a real trust or something speakable, just the faint hope that the product (good books) was a thin representation of the soul. now it feels like the product (good? books?) was a mask. in some small or insignificant way, your previous support of this person lent them power. your money and your time and your laughter.

and the thing is - you have this terrible, echoing sensation. how many times will this happen? over and over. you find out that the singer you love is actually a predator. you learn over drinks that your favorite high school english teacher is in jail for what he did to her. you listen to the news idly and suddenly discover that a woman you used to idolize has been abusing her kids for an actual eon.

what can you touch without the static melting off. you can't even really complain about it too much (you were supposed to know better, and besides, you don't want the same re-split "it's not your fault, love what you love" basic advice), but now it's here. somehow, it feels like - you let him into your life.

it's not that things need to be pure or an artist has to be like, endlessly perfect, mindful. demure. it's more just this terrible truth that has been replayed through your veins so often it feels criminally vain. power corrupts, absolute power corrupts absolutely. did you want any one person to be worth that power?

it's just that he wrote books where he seemed to understand that. he seemed to know about hierarchies and unfair systems and bigotry and privilege. you thought they were books about what it means to struggle. you thought they were about having power and still using it for good rather than for control. he spooned you a narrative of being a good guy, a kind soul. you fucking bought what that fucking monster sold.

maybe that's why they were fantasies, after all.