#and i also fucked up another essay for a different class because of this one too. so its like dominoes destruction of my grades. augh

[non-un-topo]

Daily November crying sessions start today

[foxnewsdeathcult]

honestly feeling like shit cause i completely bombed a project thats worth most of my grade for a class. and i even had an extension on it but i Still ran out of time. i just got paralyzed by how much there was to write and ended up not writing anything and then it was massively under the word count and i barely got it in in time (like within minutes)...

[fushigowo]

𝐒𝐇𝐘 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋𝐒 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐄𝐒𝐓 | 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔

╰┈➤ gojo satoru x fem!reader

╰┈➤ synopsis: in your LIT 2000, your classmate, gojo satoru, has his eyes set on the shyest student after telling his theory to getou suguru that the shyest ones are always the horniest. to prove his theory right, satoru finds ways to know whether he’s correct and he’s absolutely sure that he is.

╰┈➤ warnings: fingering, cunnilingus, oral sex, teasing, praise, degradation? soft to rough sex, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, dumbification, doggy style, cowgirl, name-calling, size kink, spanking, begging, pleasure dom satoru!! (reader and satoru are in their early 20s)

╰┈➤ a/n: this was supposed to be posted on christmas but i didn’t finish it on time :(( but i hope u all had a gentle holiday!! as a gift, i wrote whatever this is and i got inspiration from this soundgasm audio which is HOT AF!!! also, i did not proofread this. im lazy as fuck

PART I | PART II

Gojo Satoru has his pretty cerulean eyes set on someone, and that someone is none other than you.

You sit at the very front of the classroom, three rows in front of Satoru’s where he can get a clear view of you every time he stares. Not only you’re the smartest and the teacher’s pet, Satoru considers you as the most mysterious student in LIT 2000 despite being with 30 more students because of how quiet you are.

Satoru’s been observing you since the start of the year and the thing that he noticed the most was that you rarely and he means rarely talk to anyone or even participate in class. Whenever you’re called by the professor, you would mumble some I don’t knows and I’m sorrys because you can’t answer the question that was given to you. However, Satoru knew for a fact that you’re just saying those things so you won’t get to speak longer than that. He knew very well that you know the answer to every damn question.

Which is why he is so lucky to have you as a partner for a midterm essay.

As for you, you don’t know what to feel when professor called your name after Gojo Satoru’s.

You don’t really have a problem writing a five-page or more essay with a minimum of three thousand words. The problem is… Gojo Satoru is your partner. It’s not like you don’t like him. It’s just that...

Holy fucking shit. Did she figure out that I have a huge crush on Satoru?! Is that why she paired me up with him? But I made sure not to make it obvious! No, no. This won’t do.

So after class was over, you had a talk with your professor, begging for her to take the midterm essay on your own. The talk didn’t go well as planned.

Since Satoru is having a hard time catching up with LIT 2000, your professor told you to help him by partnering up in this midterm essay. However, that didn’t sit right with you so you protested, saying that there’s a chance that Satoru wouldn’t help writing the paper which would result into you writing the entire thing yourself. But that was just an excuse not to work with Satoru, otherwise you would get all flustered and nervous throughout the week while working on this midterm essay.

“It is not different from doing the entire essay myself,” you scoff.

“I know, but that is also why I partnered him with you,” she says, making you raise an eyebrow. “You can let me know if Satoru didn’t help with anything at all, which is easier for me to fail him.”

“You’re gonna fail him?” you ask.

“Yes. As you can see, Satoru hasn’t been performing well in my class,” she says, “but I figured you can help him since you’re my top performing student. Can I count on you?”

“There are other top performing students in your class though,” you mumble. Sighing in defeat, you agreed to partner up with Satoru. “Professor, did you know that I have a crush on Satoru? Is that another reason why you paired me with him?”

Silence. She knows.

“I genuinely did not know that until now.”

Crap. She doesn’t know. And I told her?! Holy—

“ForgetIsaidanythingprofessorthankyouforyourtimegoodbye.”

With that, you immediately rushed out of her office and slammed the door shut.

The only reason why you wanted to do this midterm essay on your own is because you won't have to deal with Satoru’s presence. Oh, his presence alone would make you so nervous that your smartass brain won’t even function and you would get all flustered, which is really bad because this might hinder your focus on working on the essay. Not only that, but Gojo Satoru does not take things seriously. A complete opposite of you since you take everything related to academics very seriously. But you realized that it won’t hurt to give a little help for Satoru to not fail LIT 2000.

Meanwhile, Gojo Satoru wanders around the halls of the building, in hopes of searching for you so the two of you can start working on the essay. But before that, he had a talk with his best friend, Getou Suguru.

“Yo, Satoru,” Suguru approached the white-haired man with one hand raised up. “I heard your partner for this midterm is that girl. Won’t this be the perfect time to test that theory of yours?”

“Yeah, well, I’m not trying to get into her pants,” Satoru says and a smirk grew on his glossy lips, ”not unless she wants me to.”

After your talk with your literature professor, you had to compose yourself in the rest room and even practiced a script on how you’re going to talk to Satoru. However, you had a realization that this isn’t going to be the only time that you’ll interact with Gojo Satoru since your professor knows that you have a thing for him. You scold yourself for being so nervous around him, despite being a grown ass woman.

But Satoru is… just so pretty. I can’t even look at him straight in the eyes. Also because I’ve touched myself to the thought of him so that would be awkward as fuck.

When you finally got out of the restroom, you heard a loud voice from behind and the minute you heard that voice, you already knew that it would be him. Looking over your shoulder, Satoru in his white long sleeves, black pants, messy yet gorgeous white hair and those round sunglasses. The tall man approached you with a smile on his face while you try not to melt down the ground that you’re standing on.

“I was looking for you,” Satoru says. “I thought we could start working on the essay so we can finish it ahead of the deadline.”

“You—uh, you want to start working now?” you ask, but a hint of nervousness in your voice.

“Yep!” Satoru gives you a smile and a thumbs up, and suddenly, he leans down on your face and brings his lips closer to your ear, making you shiver. “Just between you and me, I think professor is failing me this semester.”

Your eyes widen when he mentioned that.

Could it be that he heard your conversation with your professor earlier? Did he also hear the part where you told her that you have a crush on Satoru? That would make him think that you’re a complete loser in your 20s and in college yet you act like a teenager with a crush. But it’s not your fault that you’ve rejected so many guys because they’re not your standards and it’s definitely not your fault that you reject them because they’re not Satoru.

“Why would you think that?” you ask.

“Mmm? Because I haven’t been performing well in her class.” he grinned.

So he knows.

“Uh, let’s start then,” you say before walking pass him until he asked where you’re going. You look over your shoulder and said, “the library. It’s where I usually do my tasks if not in my apartment.”

“The library is too… quiet. So we’ll work in your apartment instead!”

It’s a library so it would be quiet. And did he just decide that on his own? God, he’s so stupid, I love him.

Your apartment is not far from your university. The reason why you had an apartment for yourself is because you don’t want another person taking up space and you most definitely don’t want to live with another person that you barely even know. And you’re not bothered that you’re living off-campus. It just makes it easier for you to live independently.

When the two of you got in your apartment, Satoru’s cerulean eyes scanned and observed the place. It was neat and everything is organized. But the thing that caught his attention is the stack of books next to the balcony of your apartment. Four stack of books that almost reach Satoru’s waist and he’s a tall guy. He knew that you read a lot since every time he takes glances at you in class, you’re either reading or writing something so he knows that you like reading, but he didn’t expect you to like it that much.

“Sorry, it’s a mess here,” you mumble. “Let’s get started.” You sit down on the wooden floor as you place your laptop on the coffee table adjacent to Satoru who is now sitting on the couch.

“I forgot my laptop.”

You blinked. Twice.

“Sit next to me.” he mumbled.

And that’s what you did despite being flustered at the thought that it’s only you and Satoru inside your apartment. The thought has you squeezing your legs together as you try to listen to Satoru about his ideas regarding the midterm essay. However, your thoughts were making your mind foggy and you couldn’t think straight. It’s awkward that on this very couch, you’ve touched yourself to the thought of Satoru and now, he’s sitting right next to you.

“Hey,” Satoru calls out. “You okay?”

“Mmm, yeah…” you mumble. “Since, uh, since professor asked us to analyze a chosen text from the 20th century regarding its social context, let’s choose a piece first to write about first. Do you have anything in mind?” you ask, trying your best to not make eye contact with him now that he doesn’t have his round sunglasses on.

“I have a few,” he says. “How about The Bell Jar by Sylvia Plath? Or No Longer Human by Dazai Osamu? Ah! I know. Of Mice and Men by John Steinbeck.”

“Am I the only one who didn’t cry my eyes out at the end?” you ask.

“What? You did not cry your eyes out at the end?! Are you even human?” Satory’s eyes widen, looking at you with shock while your eyes are locked on your laptop as you type. “I had snot coming out of my nose that soaked the pages of my book when I read that.”

“First of all, that’s disgusting. Second, it was sad, I admit, but I didn’t shed a tear. It was really good though so kudos to you, Mr. Steinbeck.” you chuckle. “Third, I gave it a five stars so you don’t have to attack me.”

Satoru laughs, making you flustered all over again. This is the first time you’ve heard him laugh this close and he’s laughing because of you, and you like it of course. You like that he’s comfortable around you and you like that he’s still himself despite you being awkward around his presence.

“You know, you’re actually fun to be with,” he says. Satoru’s legs are crossed while his elbow is resting on the arm rest and his cheek is on top of his closed palm as he stares at you with his pretty cerulean eyes. “But why can’t you look at me in the eyes?”

You gulped, squeezing your legs together since you can feel him staring daggers at you. Satoru seems to notice your action and a smirk formed on his glossy lips. Satoru moves closer to you, almost like you can feel his hot breath touching the sensitive part of your neck, making you shiver.

“Are you scared of me?” he asks and the only answer you could give him is by shaking your head, telling him that it’s a no. “Hmm? Then why can’t you look at me?”

You didn’t answer.

“Look at me,” he demand.

This time, you feel Satoru’s fingers making its way down your chin, making you face him and look up at him but despite his actions of forcing you to stare into his pretty cerulean eyes, you didn’t protest at all… because you like every single move he’s making on you. Satoru’s other hand glides down your arm, feeling your soft skin that made you shiver because of his warm touch.

When your eyes met his, you couldn’t help but melt on your seat. And it’s not just because Satoru is staring at you.

“There you go,” he chuckles. “That wasn’t so hard, was it? Now tell me, sweetheart, why are so flustered around me?”

You couldn’t form the words. Of course you can’t. How could you even continue to talk when Gojo motherfucking Satoru is so close to you that his hot breath is almost touching your skin and his hands are caressing your arms and chin, leaving you no choice but stare into his eyes. Not to mention the smirk that he has on his glossy lips.

“T-that’s because I… I—fuck.” you curse under your breath, trying hard to compose yourself and break eye contact.

“Do I make you nervous? Is that why you’re squirming and squeezing your leg so much?” he chuckles.

You bit your lips—hard—trying to wake yourself up and check if you’re having another wet dream about Satoru again. Fortunately, you are fully awake and the person right in front of you is the real Gojo Satoru. Not your fantasy, not your dream, but real. It was hard you to believe that something that you wanted for so long finally came true and you most definitely won’t let this moment go.

“S-Satoru…” you whisper, almost inaudible.

“Yes, sweetheart?” he asks with a smile on his face. “Is there something you want? Or need?”

He knows what he’s doing. He definitely knows what he’s doing.

“Touch me…” you mumble under your breath. “Just—touch me, please.”

With that, Satoru chuckles before leaning in towards your ears. His hands trailing down, from your chin down to your neck and wraps his slender fingers around the base, but not too tight. Just enough to make you squirm and squeeze your legs even more.

“If the shy girl wants it then who am I to refuse?” he whispers, his hot breath touching your skin that caused the hairs of your body to stand up.

Suddenly, you feel a wet yet hot sensation make contact with your ears, making its way down your jaw while Satoru’s hand tilt your head to the sides to give him more access of licking and kissing your jaw and neck. Your back touched the arm rest behind you as Satoru slowly pushed you down. He held both your thighs, positioning them to open so he can stay in between them as he kisses your neck down your collarbone, leaving bites and marks.

As Satoru devours your neck and collarbone, his hand expertly unbuttons your shirt while the other caresses your thighs, his fingers making circle patterns on your skin. When your buttons are finally undone, Satoru opens your shirt so he can clearly see your body underneath him. He pulls away from you so he can properly enjoy the view then pulls his shirt over his head.

Your half-lidded eyes earlier suddenly widen when you saw the perfect view of Satoru’s body. A body that was almost carved by the gods themselves and that wasn’t even the main attraction that caught your attention. It was the veins running down his crotch and that fucking v-line.

“You like the view from down there, slut?” he chuckles but then he noticed how you whined and squirmed underneath him when he called you slut. “Oh? Did you like being called that?”

You nod. But Satoru doesn’t take that as an answer so his hand made its way down to your neck again but he wasn’t squeezing it too hard.

“Yes,” you say. “I like it, Satoru. Like it when you—ngh—when you call me a slut.”

“Good. Because that’s what you are,” he mumbles as he leans down to your chest, leaving marks and kisses. “Such a shy little slut for me.”

But the white-haired man scoffs because your bra is in the way. He didn’t bother taking it off by clasping it. He just pulled it down to expose your nipples and didn’t waste any time to lick and suck your sensitive bud, making you arch your back. Satoru’s fingers pinch your other nipple while his knee keeps on pushing and adding pressure on your sensitive pussy, still covered with your now-soaked panties.

Satoru continues to feast on you body while you squirm and moan underneath him. When he was finally done with your tits, Satoru’s kisses went even further down until he reached your skirt. Being the impatient asshole he is, he didn’t bother taking them off and just lifts it up, exposing your panties that has a wet area because of your arousal.

A smirk grew on the white-haired man’s lips and didn’t hesitate to touch the wet area using his index and middle finger. He pushes his fingers on your sensitive bud with enough pressure to have you arching your back. Satoru might be an impatient man but of course he would take your panties off to have better access on your soaking pussy.

Realizing that your cunt is now exposed of Gojo motherfucking Satoru, your hand instinctively covered your pussy as if he did not just suck your tits earlier. But seeing your pussy is different. Of course you’d be shy and flustered. He’s Gojo Satoru, for god’s sake. He’s seen more pussy other than yours.

“Don’t get all shy on me now,” he mumbles. “Take your hands off or I’ll tie them together.”

With that, you slowly took away your hand, letting him see your soaked pussy.

“Don’t hide yourself from me,” he smiles. “You’re fucking gorgeous.”

Satoru leans down so he can easily make contact with your cunt. His fingers rub your slit, soaking it with your juices and you couldn’t help but arch your back. A smile grows on his face and suddenly, you can feel him insert a finger inside your cunt, making you whine. His thumb draws circles around your clit that made your thighs quiver until you feel another finger being inserted inside you.

Satoru plunges his fingers in and out of you yet in a slow and sensual pace. He can feel your walls clenching around his fingers as he inserts his digits back. A smirk forms on his glossy lips and plunges his fingers even deeper, deeper than you could reach yourself.

You’ve fingered yourself before but—god, this was so different than what you would usually feel. Is it because his fingers are thicker and longer than yours? Or is it because he’s so fucking good at it?

“Ah! Satoru!” you whine. “R-right there! Right there, please!”

The squelching noise that your pussy and Satoru’s fingers are creating together as well as your wanton moans filled the air of your apartment. You didn’t care how loud you were. You didn’t care if the walls are thin and you didn’t care if your neighbors hear you. You didn’t care about anything else, you just want Satoru to make you cum with his fingers.

Satoru’s pace becomes even more faster, but he figured that it wasn’t enough. Of course it’s not enough. He wasn’t satisfied with just using his fingers.

So he leans down and lolled his tongue out, not even hesitating to lick your sensitive clit, making you jolt and arch your back when you suddenly feel his tongue circling around your clit while his fingers plunge in and out of you. Your legs start to quiver and squirm. The sensation was too much for you that you couldn’t help but close your legs. But Satoru wasn’t done so he grips your legs apart and held the back of your thighs to keep you in place.

This time, Satoru pulls his fingers out and held your thighs in place but his tongue is doing all the work now, licking and sucking your poor overstimulated pussy. Your eyes suddenly widen and your back arched when you feel Satoru insert his tongue inside you, plunging it deeper that his nose is touching your clit.

“Oh, fuck! Satoru! It’s—ngh—too much! I can’t—!”

Your whines and moans continue but Satoru was too busy eating you. But he suddenly pulls away to look at your view. You look so fucked and he didn’t even used his cock yet.

“For someone who’s shy and quiet, you’re being awfully loud for me, sweetheart.” he chuckles before devouring your cunt again.

Satoru can already feel that you’re close. He knows you’re close so he used his thumb to rub circles on your clit and that’s when you completely lost it.

Your legs quiver on Satoru’s grip when you feel your orgasm rip through you. The sensation that Satoru made you feel had you seeing stars, something that you never felt before whenever you touch yourself and this might’ve been the first time that you came this intense. And it felt so fucking good.

Seeing your fucked out state, Satoru chuckles as he watches you catch your breath after that intense orgasm.

“You still with me?” he asks. “I haven’t even used my cock yet!”

“Then use it. Fuck me, Satoru… I want your cock inside me, please.”

“Kiss me first. Come up here and kiss me.” he smiles.

You didn’t hesitate to sit back up and reach for Satoru’s face. Your hand made their way to his cheek while the other caresses his soft white hair. He returns the kiss and inserts his tongue inside your mouth, writhing and swirling against yours. This time, Satoru settles himself next to the arm rest, laying down on the couch while his head rests on the arm rest. Now, you’re on top of him, kissing his glossy lips and grinding your aching pussy on the bulge of his pants.

“Why don’t you do the honors and take my cock out?” Satoru smirks in between your kisses.

And who were you to deny that?

So you unzip Satoru’s pants, bringing it down to reveal the bulge inside his boxers. His cock sprung free when you slid down his boxers, slapping against his lower abdomen. Its size and girth has you gulping because you haven’t seen a cock that big. Sure, you’ve fucked yourself using your dildos but none of your toys compare to Satoru’s cock. A prominent vein runs along the underside of the base of his cock, its pinkish head is releasing pre-cum that drips down to the base.

You didn’t have any idea what you were doing when you had the urge to suck Satoru’s cock. But the white-haired man didn’t have any protests, of course. In fact, his hand is guiding your head to suck on his pulsating cock. After realizing that you didn’t need any guidance, Satoru lets you do your thing.

You let your tongue swirl around the base of his cock and despite it being deep inside your throat, you’re barely even gagging as you take him deeper that your nose is touching his nicely trimmed hair. You continue to suck and lick Satoru’s cock, making him release pretty moans and groans and curses under his breath.

When he felt himself getting close, Satoru couldn’t help but grip your hair and guide your head even though you’re sucking him so well. He just needed something to hold on to and your hair was perfect.

“Ah, fuck! I’m gonna cum. Shit!” he moans until he feels himself release inside your throat. Satoru lets you pull away. Your saliva and some of his cum is leaking down your chin, making him wipe it using his thumb.

“Holy shit. That was so good,” he chuckles. “You sure it’s your first time sucking cock?”

“Uh, well, I-I had some practice,” you say, “with my… toys.”

“Who knew you were such a horny slut?” Satoru didn’t let you answer when he told you to—

“Sit on my cock,” he says. “Sit on my cock and ride me like what you do to your toys. I bet they won’t even compare to mine, huh?”

You gulp before climbing on top of him again. Satoru uses his hand to snake down his head as a pillow while his other hand holds your hips. Positioning yourself on top of him, your hand holds the base of his cock while the other is clinging on the head rest of the couch to support yourself.

You lower yourself down on Satoru’s cock and you couldn’t help but whimper and bite your lips when the tip of his cock finally went inside you. His cock is far more thicker than any of your toys that it has your legs quivering and shaking yet you still continued to lower yourself, taking all of him inside you.

When you stopped, Satoru looks up at you.

“Why’d you stop? You’re not even half way there.”

“What?” you whimper. “Is it t-that big?”

“Yes, sweetheart,” he chuckles. “It’s that big.”

Without answering, you continue to lower yourself. Satoru is staring at how your pussy is taking him all in and how you’re struggling to. You’ve done this numerous times on your toys before but riding a real cock—his cock—is far different from that feeling, mainly because Satoru is big.

“It’s so—ah—so deep, Satoru. I don’t think I can—can’t take more.” you whimper.

“But it’s all inside you now,” he smiles. “Ah, fuck. You feel so good.”

To ease the feeling, Satoru lets you cockwarm him while his thumb rub circles on your sensitive clit. When you finally feel at ease and ready to ride him, Satoru places his hand on your hips to keep you in place as you bounce up and down on his cock.

The squelching noises every time his balls meets your skin fills the air of your apartment once again, accompanied by your loud moans and Satoru’s groans.

You can feel the tip of Satoru’s cock hitting the sweet spot of yours that has you clenching around him and every time you look down at the lewd sight below you, you can see a bulge forming on your lower stomach whenever you sink yourself down on Satoru’s cock. Although you seem to be fine riding him and taking all of his cock, you couldn’t look at him straight in the eyes and you even use your hand to cover the lower half of your face since his cerulean eyes are staring right at you.

“Don’t get all shy on me now, slut. You’re riding my cock and yet you still have the nerve to be shy? C’mon, don’t hide yourself,” Satoru grins when he grips both of your hips and lowers you down.

“Ah! Satoru! What are you—ah!”

You couldn’t seem to think straight when he took the initiative to guide you on his cock in a fast and rough pace. Every time he sinks your body down his cock, his hips would thrust up and meet your movement, making the lewd noises even more louder and harder than before.

“Ngh! Fuck, ‘Toru! It’s so deep! So good!”

“Yeah? It’s better than riding those plastic cocks you own, huh?” he chuckles, followed by a moan. “God, you feel so fucking good. Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

“‘m gonna—gonna cum, Satoru! ‘m so close! So close!”

“Do it. Cum on my cock.”

With that, your orgasm rip through you once more. Your legs quiver on top of Satoru and your chest making rapid up and down motions, letting you catch your breath while you half-lidded eyes try to open despite being fucked out after releasing another intense orgasm, but this time, on Satoru’s cock.

When you decided to get off Satoru’s still hard cock, he tells you to—

“Bend over the couch.”

And who were you to disobey?

Satoru positions your upper body to bend over the arm rest of the couch, placing a hand wrapped around the back of your neck. Wasting no time, Satoru plunges his cock inside of you again, making you let out a muffled whine.

This time, Satoru didn’t let you relax on his cock and continues to pump inside you in a fast pace. His hands grip your hips as he thrusts in and out of you. His gaze his on the lewd sight of your pussy taking him all in, observing the white ring around his cock.

Who knew he’d be fucking the smartest and shyest girl in his literature class? Who fucking knew that that shy and quiet girl is secretly a horny slut who is begging for him to fuck her harder until she can’t think?

“Oh, fuck! Satoru! Yesyesyes! Fuck me harder, please!”

“Easy.” he mumbles before fucking into you so deep that it reaches your cervix, making you grip the sheets of the couch and whine so loud that you’re sure that everyone in your apartment building heard how you’re being fucked so good.

As Satoru keeps his rough and fast pace consistent, you couldn’t seem to let out coherent words anymore and your eyes are now teary from the pleasure that Satoru is giving you. Your toes are curling and your hands are gripping the sheets as you feel yourself releasing another intense orgasm out of you.

“Fuck, ‘m gonna cum—gonna cum! ‘m close, Toru! Satoru! Fuck!”

“Yeah, cum on my cock again! Oh, god. Fuck! Fuckfuckfuck!

Satoru quickly pulls out of you before he can release. His hand pumps his cock, releasing his cum on your back while your thighs are now soaked with your juices that drips down your legs. The two of you catch your breath but Satoru pulls you in to kiss you.

“You just proved me right, sweetheart,” he mumbles in between your kisses. “Now let’s work on that essay, yeah?” he pulls away and smiles, as if he didn’t just fucked the words and ideas out of you.

© fushigowo | 2022 reblogs are appreciated <3

[bisexual-horror-fan]

Do-Over-December 11th. Billy Loomis X Stu Macher X FEM! AFAB! Reader. Candy Cane. Poly!Ghostface. "Candied Glass."

Hello, hello, hello! We are back on track and tryna stick to it! Poly!Ghostface Christmas fuckery! I hope you all enjoy this and missed this as much as I have! Onwards with re-doing Kinky December! Not much else to say but let's goooo-

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Rating. Explict. Length. 2.7K (Old Length. 2.4K.) Warnings. Light Holiday Fluff. Masturbation. Sex Toys. Dirty Talk. Exhibitionism. Light Tempature Play. Impatiant Boys. Cunnilingus. Dirty Pictures.

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It’s mid-December and the holiday break is about to be upon the college campus you attended. It was your first winter break with your boyfriends Billy and Stu, you had gotten together with them last spring and things had honestly been going pretty good.

Okay, okay, better than pretty good, it’s been amazing. Billy and Stu had already been together prior to you coming into the picture. You all started off as friends, and you’d developed a serious crush on them, but you didn’t do anything about it, scared to make any kind of move because they were already with each other.

It had all the hallmarks of an all consuming crush, musing and daydreaming about what could be, desperate to spend any time you could with them. Said extreme longing was not helped by the fact that they returned those lingering looks and fleeting touches that had you questioning if they were into you too, but you pushed those feelings down. 

You seriously tried not to look too deeply into it when they were nice, like when Stu offered to buy your textbook for a class you needed. You had protested, but Stu gave you a shrug and a wink as he pulled his wallet out of his back pocket, saying, “Don’t worry about it.”

Or when Billy remembered your coffee order and brought you one to your shared class one morning when he knew you had a rough late night the day before trying to finish an essay. It went on like that for a couple of months but one night after a party, the three of you were hanging out in their apartment, all still kinda drunk and sitting around, a quiet moment broken when Stu spoke up, “You know we are into polyamory right?”

And just like that, the rest was history. You started dating them, and it had been pretty fucking great thus far. With the break about to kick off it meant some time apart, you’d met them at school and were from a different town than them, you all have plans to return to your respective families for the holidays. 

You wished you three could have spent it together, but it wasn’t possible with how far away your hometown was away from theirs. So instead, the three of you were having a small celebration, to do your gift exchange before the real holidays hit.

You three had all night to spend together, and so far you had watched a couple of movies, had some dinner and were currently deep in opening gifts. You were college students and set a budget but Stu, with all of his parent's money at his disposal, he totally went over the limit to spoil Billy and you. Mostly you because Billy had already had the talk numerous times throughout their friendship/relationship to quote- “Fucking knock it off, man.”

So Stu still did spoil him, but not as much as he used to. 

Spoiling you was new and exciting and fun. He loved how flustered you got, unused to such attention. He had gotten you a new coat you had been looking at but deemed too expensive previously you were going to stick it out, but Stu said fuck that, it’s winter, you deserve a good coat. Stu also got you the newest book in a series you enjoyed, and some new headphones and a few other things. Billy had gotten you one of those giant three wick candles in one of your favourite scents and a sweater that he admitted Stu helped pick out, but he bought. 

You loved all of it. 

You had pulled the sweater on and were just thinking about getting the dessert you had made for the three of you to share when Stu pulled out another gift, and you rolled your eyes as you chided him, tone flat, “Stu. Another?”

“Last one! I promise!” He said, holding one hand up as the other held onto the gift. Billy looked over and smirked, pointing at the package as he asked, “Oh, that’s it, isn’t it?”

Stu’s smile widened, and he wiggled his eyebrows in that way that made you snicker as he replied to Billy, “You know it!”

He handed you the package, and you placed it in your lap as you inquired, “Billy in on this one?”

“To be fair, I was in on all of them.” Of course, they conspired against you, but to be fair, you did the exact same thing, telling Billy what you got for Stu and vice versa. You just wanted to make sure you didn’t get the same thing and make sure your gifts were good enough. 

“Why am I not surprised?” You finally set to open the present, tearing at the paper apart, letting the shreds fall onto the hardwood floor with the rest, the torn wrapping was about ankle deep around the couch where the three of you were sitting. 

You opened the box and couldn’t help but laugh. “Are you serious?”

See, you had wanted something like this. You had never owned any sex toys previously and had expressed interest in getting some now that you were out of your parent's house and away at college you wouldn’t have to worry about them finding them, and you had the privacy and space to use them comfortably. It was a very thoughtful gift, but you weren’t expecting this to be what he went with. 

You reached into the box and lifted out the toy and held it up. It is a glass dildo, smooth and weighty and in the shape of a candy cane, and striped like one to boot. Billy was laughing a little behind his hand, and Stu managed to hold back his laughter, but only barely. Stu hit Billy on the leg, and he nodded once before clearing his throat and putting on a more serious look as he asked, tone surprisingly even, “What, you don’t like it, baby?”

They shared a look, and you smirked and turned it over in your hands, and Stu said, “Yeah. It’s appropriate, don’t you think?”

You nodded with your lips pursed and looked Stu in the eyes as you said in your own serious tone, “I’ll give you this much, Stu.” You pointed at him with the end of the dildo as you finished your thought, “-It’s very festive.”

That did it, and the three of you broke down laughing. You laughed too much and too long, but when you all stopped you were in the middle of your boys, throwing an arm around each of their shoulders and hugging them, “Thank you for the gifts, boys. I love them.”

The rest of the night continued on, the boys loved their gifts just as much, dessert was shared, and you all talked about what your plans over the holidays were. You were going to miss them so much, and they were going to miss you too, but you were still planning on spending the night tonight, then going off back home tomorrow. 

You ended up in bed with them, of course. Two weeks apart would be bad enough as it was, you needed to try and get your fill of them tonight. You were sitting on Billy’s lap, his back was to the headboard of the bed, and you were currently in deep and lost making out with him, his hands roaming on your clothed form. You felt the mattress dip behind you, feeling Stu get onto the bed, one of his hands on your hip and his other hand coming up to cup your cheek, “Got started without me?”

And with a hum you pulled back breaking the kiss with Billy and reached back, fingers finding Stu’s short hair and looking up at him,“You were taking so long, it’s not my fault Billy has no patience.” 

Billy rolled his eyes, the action is playful, head tilting back as he says, “C’mon, you see her man, how am I supposed to have her in bed and not do something.”

Stu’s hand under your chin and tilting your head up at a more aggressive angle, “Very true, impossible to resist.” 

Then he was pulling you into a kiss of his own, you kissed him back easily and Billy had leaned forward now, his mouth on your neck and fuck this was the best. Three of you taking turns and hands all over each other, it always heated up so quickly. Sometimes it was hard to keep track of whose hands or mouth were where, but you weren’t about to complain about getting so much attention when it felt this good. 

Fingers started to explore further and breathing was picking up. It felt way too hot for your sweater soon and Billy was helping you take it off and threw it aside, and you started to help him with his shirt, Stu was still pressed to you, and he whispered in your ear, “We got a little something in mind for you baby.”

Stu’s hands were pulling your shirt up, and you let him help you take it off, his hands were on your breasts, groping at you through your bra and you hummed questioningly,

“Mmmhmm?” You hummed questioningly, and he said, “Yeah, somethin’ we want to see you do.”

You were already so turned on that you were down for basically anything, “What is it?”

A look shared between the two of them, and they knew by how you responded that you were in the right mood to be open with them. Stu wrapped his arms around your waist and lifted you up a few inches, you let him and assisted, standing up on your knees as Billy took to removing your skirt. Then you were just in your panties and Stu had removed your bra as Billy moved out of the way, and you were put in his place, leaning against the pillows and headboard. Stu had his hands behind his back and after a moment he showed you what he was holding and-

It was that same present as before, you snickered and asked as your gaze ran over the glass candy cane in his hand, and you deadpanned,“Seriously?”

Billy ran his fingers through his hair before moving closer and leaning over you, one of Stu’s hands lands on your thigh, spreading your legs and Billy, much closer to you now, was looking into your eyes as he said, “Seriously. We think it’d be hot to watch you use it on yourself for us.”

Just like that, you were in. You would do just about anything for either of them solo, but having both of them wanting something from you? No way could you say no. 

You nodded once and the toy was placed in your hand and the boys backed off a bit, getting comfortable on the end of the bed, and you settled in. You weren’t sure how to start, you hadn’t used toys before at all, let alone one made of glass. It seemed sturdy, good quality, you turn it over in your hand as you looked at them and bit your bottom lip, they were watching you. As the thought and the situation fully washed over you, this was hot, you were much more into this idea than you thought. You’d done a lot with them, but certainly had not done a dedicated time masturbating in front of them. This was something special, it could be another gift of sorts, a new experience, new memories foraged with them.

Why not put on a show?

You started simply, pressing the toy to your damp panties and sliding it up and down, a slow tease for them and you. Sliding up and down, more pressure, focusing on your clit a bit more with each pass, and it was starting to feel pretty good, hips tilting up more into the cool sensation of the toy. 

All too soon you wanted more, and your fingers hooked in the crotch of your panties, you pulled them aside, bringing the toy down and touching it to your soaked flesh. You weren’t expecting it to be so cold, you shivered a little. 

“That good?” Stu inquired, brows raised and Billy was smirking, arm thrown around Stu’s shoulders, and he asked teasingly, “Yeah? You’re shaking already.”

“ ‘M fine, it’s just cold.” It’s a half lie as you slide the toy up and down a few more times before finally dipping inside yourself and oh-

Oh, fuck.

You didn’t expect that at all.

How good the difference in temperature felt. You were burning hot and the toy being so cold gave such a unique sensation, you slide the toy in as far as it would go, holding onto the hooked end with one hand. It slid in so easily. Another thing you didn’t plan on was how little lube it needed, the glass was so smooth, no ridges, it glides in and out with very minimal effort. 

It was unrelenting as you clenched on it, no give to it at all, that was something you weren’t used to either. Okay you got it, from just a minute of pushing it in and pulling it back out, thrusting back and forth experimentally you understood the appeal. You wouldn’t need to play this up much at all, it felt good, damn good. 

You vocalized it, soft moans crossing your lips, head falling back onto the pillows as you played, thighs spreading wider, you tilted the toy and brushed that spot inside just right and gasped. 

“Ah! Oh, fuc- that’s good.”

You needed your underwear gone, toy leaving you for only a moment, holding it in one hand you arched your hips and the other hand slid down and set to removing your panties, you pulled them off and with a coy smile you tossed them to the boys. Stu caught them, both looked very amused and seemed to be enjoying the show immensely. 

You’d be lying if you said you weren’t enjoying it yourself, ass touching back down on the sheets you slipped the toy back in and resumed a steady pace, eyes rolling back as you did, my God this was fun. Having them watch you, doing this so close to them, finding pleasure in yourself and them enjoying every second of seeing you get off. 

A hand met your ankle, and you looked down to see Billy getting between your legs, “Apparently cold is good.”

Apparently he was still impatient.

You nodded once, a harder thrust, and you moaned again, Billy’s hand slid up your leg and over your thigh and his hand nudged yours. You got the hint, moving your hand away, he leaned in close, his tongue ran over your clit and that your back arched. The cold glass, his hot breath and even hotter mouth around your straining clit, it was so much to handle. He had been paying good attention, he angled the toy just right to hit that sweet spot, and you were unable to stop the loud moan that left your mouth. 

Stu had moved up to be closer to you again, and he was kissing you and one of his hands was on your breasts and teasing one of your nipples and oh my God. You might have been laughing when you first opened up that present and laid your eyes on that toy, but you sure as shit weren’t laughing now. 

The rest of the night was amazing and needed. The three of you, all entangled together, soaking up every second you could because you knew that you wouldn’t have the chance for a while. 

You packed the toy and brought it home, you might have had a round or two on your own and sent the boys a few pictures. 

The one of you in your Christmas sweater and a skirt flipped up, wet pussy on display, face down ass up for the camera while you had one hand sliding the toy in and the fingers of your other on your clit was Billy’s personal favourite. The one you snapped with you in your family living room, late at night after everyone else had gone to bed, in just a robe, fully opened, exposing your naked body, lights from the tree as you laid on the floor in front of it dancing over your body as you used that same toy was Stu’s favourite. 

Only one problem was that now you can’t look at candy canes without getting a bit wet and wanting to squirm while missing your boys. 

Christmas can’t come all the time but thanks to that lovely little gift you certainly were.

[luvwich]

✒️ writer interview tag

tagged by @dustdeepsea — tysm, this was great fun! read their answers here and mine, if you like, beneath the cut ✨

When did you start writing?

early 2023 was my first foray into writing actual fiction. prior to that i'd done an embarrassing amount of roleplaying many years ago, which i shall speak on no further, but it did form the basis for a lot of my writing now!

once upon a time, i seriously entertained the idea of an MFA in screenwriting, but went on to pursue something even stupider for grad school 👍

Are there different themes or genres you enjoy reading than what you write?

honestly everything i enjoy reading gets smuggled into my writing in some form or another!

Is there a writer you want to emulate or get compared to often?

there are like 26 different writers where i wish to take bits and pieces of their style, send it all into a meat grinder, and press the gunk into sausage casings to be dipped in batter and deep fried. ideally i want my writing to hit like wagyu beef that's been corrupted into a county fair corn dog. but no i'm not sure i've ever been compared to another writer! that would fuck my shit up truly (in a good way)

Can you tell me a bit about your writing space?

typically curled up on my couch, because the ergonomic status of my home office setup is terrible — potentially lethal. sometimes i stay late at my not-home office, hidden away in a dark conference room, but that's usually only if i'm on a self-imposed deadline (i.e. i've started posting a WIP)

What's your most effective way to muster up a muse?

the spark that gets me to write is usually some kind of Dynamic that i want to explore so i do a lot of noodling upon situations and then figuring out how to get there. and by situations i mean smut

also, writing bits of dialogue, even if i don't know the context yet. it gets a character's voice and mannerisms in my head, and gives me a little grain to start building on

sadly, going on a hike and/or reading a really good book are both very effective and by far the most time consuming

Are there any recurring themes in your writing? Do they surprise you?

longing, isolation, identity, the difference between the person you'd like to be and the person you are, strained/dysfunctional family relationships, wrong person right time, hope, blowjobs, self-deception, california, fucking your way through it, guilt, social class, mommy issues, mono no aware, oral fingering, etc; they don't surprise me anymore but the first time i finished a long fic and took a step back i was like "ohh haha Damn"

What is your reason for writing?

i am horny, sad n silly

Is there any specific comment or type of comment you find particularly motivating?

all forms of feedback are so touching! i think much of what i write is pretty niche, so simply knowing someone has read my stuff gets me pumped. a big essay of a comment is like receiving a love letter, and comments that are just an emoji are like someone's tucked a little note in my lunchbox, and both are incredibly nourishing to me. as far as motivation, though, anything that implies someone is looking forward to reading more is the surest way to light a fire under my people-pleasing ass

How do you want to be thought about by your readers?

affable wretch, trickster, wine aunt

What do you feel is your greatest strength as a writer?

i'm not sure any one thing stands out: i believe i'm pretty good in a few areas (dialogue, sensory detail, characterization) and notably lacking in others (action, "plot," pacing, not getting high on my own supply)… okay i'll stop being an asshole though and say my strength is in "delivering on a mood," if that is a thing

How do you feel about your own writing?

generally good. for one, i'm proud of myself for ever finishing and posting anything, because following through on shit isn't something i'm renown for. i tend to hate everything i write after i've gotten some distance from it, but i think that's normal? right? i'm new at it and it's all for fun so i try to be gracious with myself, with mixed success, because beneath my goofy exterior i do take everything too seriously

When you write, are you influenced by what others might enjoy reading, or do you write purely for yourself, or a mix of both?

mostly for myself; i do abstractly ask "would someone who isn't me enjoy this?" and never quite know the answer. like most humans i crave external validation and connection, but like a cactus i can survive on just a lil rainfall 🌵

tagging w/no pressure (but with my best barbara walters impression) @corpocyborg @ghostoffuturespast @merge-conflict @streetkid-named-desire @writing-for-soup

[thagomizersshow]

Content warning: blood, gore, sexual content, sexual assault, parasites and body horror

This is a heavily modified version of an essay I originally wrote for a literary theory class and then turned into a script for a video essay that I never finished. 

Enjoy :)

One of the things that really bothers me about the critical conversation around Alien (1979) is the long-running idea that the alien and its various forms are so enduringly horrifying because they break the sexual/gender binary.

The worst example I can find is this excerpt, from Alien Woman: The Making of Lt. Ripley, by Ximena Gallardo and C. & C. Jason Smith:

The Alien species disregards the sexual difference that is so essential to our definition of what it is to be human. The male body is repositioned to correspond to the female body: the male mouth becomes the vagina, the chest the womb. The dichotomy male/female is broken down, as all humanity is female (a womb) in the face of the alien.

I get that this was published in 2004, but Gender Trouble had already been around for over a decade, so that’s not much of an excuse for weird ass gender essentialism in academia.

Art by AlexanDraxleean ↑

The idea that the xenomorph and its various stages are scary because the gender binary is being broken down is comically disregarded by the simple fact that trans people (like myself) ALSO find the damn thing scary. We are living embodiments of a shattered binary, but we aren’t shitting ourselves over our own existence (usually). I contend that the alien is scary not because of a violation of gender or sexual norms, but because it utilizes a much more widespread and visceral kind of horror: that of the parasite.

Most other animalistic horror monsters rely on the fear of the predator: monster wanna eat you → you run away → get caught → get eated. This is an oversimplification, obviously, and if you want a really good exploration of how the fear of predators effects us, read Val Plumwood’s Eye of the Crocodile. For real, my fav ecophilosophy book.

No, instead of the more straightforward horror presented by the predator, the alien uses the inescapable, cloying, and violating horror of parasites and parasitoids. Where the predator hunts, kills and eats, the parasite clings, defiles and tortures. When the predator catches you, you’re dead. When the parasite catches you, you don’t know what is going to happen. Is it going to bury inside you? Is it going to feed on your body? Is it going to lay eggs in you? You literally don’t know, and that’s what makes them so scary. Hell, they could get inside you without you even knowing. It isn’t just the fear of death, it’s the paranoia of violation AND the fear of the unknown. This makes Alien akin to a Lovecraftian horror in many ways, but instead of the fear of race-mixing or disabled people, it is the fear that whatever you do, wherever you go, there are beings that can enter your body and use it against your will.

Hell, the whole premise of the movie, at least according to the screenwriter, came from the thought “what if ichneumon wasps laid eggs in us instead of in worms?” That basic idea is glossed over constantly in analysis of Alien in favour of more Freudian explanations that rely heavily on antiquated notions of gender essentialism. When early screening audiences were throwing up in their seats in 1979, were they thinking about how “this monster really transgresses gender norms :/” or were they thinking “fuck what if that thing was growing inside me?!?!”

The only time I agree with these old school interpretations is when they view Alien through the lens of sexual assault. The fear of sexual assault and the fear of parasites are fucked up sisters in a way. They are both fears of bodily violation that induce a strong paranoia, and their symbologies easily feed off one another. Sexual imagery (e.g. a penis shaped head with a mouth on the end) combined with parasitic imagery (e.g. a creature grabbing a hold of you and doing unknown things to your body) are both niggling at the part of your brain that is repulsed by internal invasion.

However, I’ve seen arguments that Alien specifically targets fears for cis men being sexually assaulted, and I think that’s a very limited approach to the movie. The idea of a creature latching onto you, ignoring your autonomy, and using you as an incubator is pretty universally scary if you ask me, and I think for most people, that idea connects to a primal and often unaddressed fear of parasites far more than sexual violation. Just look at videos of botfly maggot removals and tell me you don’t get the same yucky feeling as when you watch Alien.

Even for people like me who find these creatures fascinating, I still get that skin crawly feeling when I look at images of them for too long. And it isn’t just a short-lived disgust reaction happening, it’s also that feeling of paranoia that it could be happening to you right this minute. This is all a part of what is called the behavioural immune system, which is the brain’s first line of defense against infection and why most people are grossed out by signs of disease on the body (pus, rashes, body odours, etc.).

We really don’t like thinking about parasites, and it shows across our culture. Deadly predators of all kinds have been worshiped all over the world, but is there anyone in history who paid fealty to the tick? Who invoked the name of the roundworm for strength? Are there cartoons about anthropomorphic scabies and their kingdom of flesh? (If any of these exist and I just don’t know it, please tell me.)

I’m not saying that this is an innate feeling in all of us (the human experience is about as diverse as it gets, and I’m sure some people just don’t have this reaction and never have) but I do think it’s widespread enough and so infrequently felt that when this parasite repulsion is triggered it makes for a horror that is far harder to shake than any socialized fear of gender violation. Far more than any Freudian psychosexual imagery, the horror of the parasite is what I believe has made the xenomorph such an enduring cinematic monster.

I wanna leave this post off with one of my favourite quotes about parasites from Annie Dilliard’s book, Pilgrim at Tinker Creek:

It is the thorn in the flesh of the world, another sign, if any be needed, that the world is actual and fringed, pierced here and there, and through and through, with the toothed conditions of time and the mysterious, coiled spring of death.

[anteroom-of-death]

Teacher's Pet part 8

Synopsis: Truths are revealed, jeopardizing what lies between these two lovers. Why? And how?

A/n: Angst! Angst! And in this chapter, I personally will relinquish a grudge, Sophia I forgive you now, sorta. I swear things may improve! Also, Petronella is a girl's girl and alive. Fuck what the Canon says.

You never expected the tables to turn that quickly. You never wanted to have an affair. You just subconsciously wanted him. Maybe more than subconsciously.

How dumb.

You left his office and went off to your tutoring. Your chest still ringing from beating too hard. Your ears were tingling.

You figured one would have to be deaf, dumb and blind to not notice your obvious puppy dog. (Or how did he put it just now? “A fawn separated from it’s mother too early”…?) Crush you were developing on him.

Was it desperation and he was merely scratching an itch? Something to warm his bones after a dry-spell since his wife died? If not, why not just go see an escort? (You shuddered at an accidental outing.)

You doubted it was a crush, like you held. Do men in their upper fifties (Your best guess at his age…) get crushes? You also doubted that.

And why did it seem like he had twice the amount of pulse in his body. If you didn’t know anatomy, you would swear he had two hearts in his chest.

You shook your head and left silly thoughts and trying to define this experience.

Whatever it was, it began to happen fast. You would meet up between classes in his office for a quick fuck. Or if he saw you on campus he’d guide you to somewhere secluded for a kiss on your cheek and a remark about your latest diatribe in class.

You still met up every Monday for some actual tutoring on his class.

Once he took you out to park at the edge of town for a little coffee date.

He respected your work schedule and always never asked questions.

You were dearly grateful.

The term was coming to an end, and you were in the library. It was late and you covered in highlighter ink and were approaching clinical insanity. You felt a now-familiar set of hands on your shoulders.

“Burning the candle at both ends? I see.”

“Hey.” You broke out of your reverie and statistics-essay informed stupor. It might have been a tad bit louder than you intended.

“Play hooky from work this weekend. I’ve got to go to London for my other job.” First time he ever mentioned a second job. Did the university really pay it’s professors that little? You heard a few, more junior ones kvetching once. But him? He was definitely tenured.

“Another job?” You questioned.

“Yeah, I made a bad choice in the 70’s. It’s followed me around since then. Do come. I’ll do us somewhere special.” So your calculations on his age were wrong. He was maybe just a tad bit older than upper fifties…

Probably lower sixties.

“Sounds fine by me. It’s been slowing up.” You remarked.

He leaned down and kissed your cheek.

“Do ditch the energy drink. They’re ever so bad on human’s guts.”

A weird quirk. He’d always say humans or apes. As if he was above or different. Maybe it was the fact he was an old white guy.

Yeah, that was it. Old white guy brain rot.

“Meet me at that park… Friday, around three PM.” He instructed.

“Okay…”

“I’ll let you go back to your studies. I know how much you value them.” A final kiss and he faded out as quickly as he appeared.

You texted your manager and explained that you weren’t able to do the weekend shift, but definitely Thursday night. If you were to go to London, you’d proceed some mad money to spend on your own if his second job left you hostage for too long to your own devices.

And you canceled on a few regulars.

“Family issues.” Always a surefire way to get out of these things. Vague enough to not garner questions and would gain some sympathy. You hoped some other girl wouldn’t nab them, but you knew how people were. That one girl, Sophia, once stole your biggest tipper who saw you on both Friday nights and Sunday evenings because she’d do oral without a condom.

Damn that stomach flu you had that weekend.

You worked that night, slow but a big tip had materialized. Perfect.

By the time you had gotten home and napped for a few hours, you had a dilemma. Obviously you didn’t want your work knickers and robes mixing in with your real life clothes. Taint the divide you had.

You stared at your open suitcase. It was a little carry-on one. Yet the empty inside could swallow you whole. You threw in the most fancy of your basics in. It seemed the best idea. You pressed your hand to your mouth and let out a nervous scream.

Why was picking out what clothes you’d wear to probably just stay in a hotel all weekend stressful?

And were you entering kept whore territory?

Your situationship was dreadfully unlabeled.

You definitely knew he wasn’t your boyfriend. That word was horribly trite and evoked images of teens and young adults running about to dinner dates and cuddling each other on the bus. Or feeling each other up behind the seats in a cinema.

Not that you had particularly a detailed actual history with long-term or healthy relationships.

That’s life.

Did he even drive? How were you two getting to London? You just sat there on the bench after going to the park. It was nearly three.

You scratched at your eyelid, fighting the urge to tear off your lower lip with your fingernails.

Checking your phone, you didn’t see the big black Range Rover pulling up in front of you. The back passenger side door popped open, startling you a bit. “Hey you, get in. Apparently I’m very late.” You saw him in the back, a few soldiers in it with him. (They looked like soldiers. You decided they were.)

You grabbed your little carry-on suitcase and went in. An anxiety attack was bubbling up. What was his other job? You slid in and clenched your suitcase and purse between your legs.

You were going to London, so you chose a classy, sleek, small black number. You made the right choice. It was positively crowded in here.

There was a cute, disgruntled looking girl with an oversized knit scarf and some hipster glasses on in the front passenger seat.

“Hi! I’m Osgood!” She stretched back and offered you her hand. “You’re his...assistant?” She seemed confused by your general existence, but pleased you were another girl in this car of men. You couldn’t blame her! You took it and shook.

“She’s my companion.” The bastard finally labeled your situationship. Companion, very old timey. He let out of beaming smile, and continued on, “Petronella Osgood, (y/n's full name). (Y/n’s full name), Petronella Osgood. The new lead scientific advisor and assistant to the Head of UNIT!” His hand nearly swiped one of the soldier’s faces. “You’re both clever and don’t think like a normal human. You’ll be friends by Sunday night…”

If you could have balled yourself up and rolled away like a pill bug of you could.

“Do you like Costa? I’m trying to convince these people to stop by on our way home! Usually he just shows up, you know how he is with that TARDIS of his. But the Doctor said this would be best for him to do today…” She battered you with information and words.

You’d discuss this all with him further in private. Right now, you had to play a role.

“Yeah, I could go for…a Cortado.” You choked out. Coffee would help this all be absorbed a lot quicker.

She began fiddling with the vehicle’s GPS.

They all began talking about whatever techno-babble and such. It was over your head. You felt yourself getting heart burn and a migraine.

Petronella asked you something. And like a baby with dribble on it’s shirt, you said sluggishly: “What?”

“Do you think that we should do a frontal advance?”

“Maybe not?” You just started making things up on the fly. Filling it in ad-lib style!

You wanted to kill yourself.

“I mean, if… you go… from the front…all in. They’ll be…able to see you?” You heaved. “If you go from the…sides…and like, guerilla style…whatever is happening will…be a surprise …you remember like, the Germans against Rome or Boudicca, also against Rome…yeah.” You ended. You deserved a little chewing on the inside of your cheek, as a treat.

Soon enough, you pulled up to a Costa, Petronella seemed very eager to order in-shop. And to drag you in.

You collected the soldier’s and Professor Smith (Oh! Yeah, they called him Doctor…you’d demand the truth later.) Orders.

You were so eager to leave the car for a breath of fresh air.

“Hey, mind if I smoke real quick?” You had quit, but there was a lose one in the purses pocket, and the situation called for one. If ever there was a time to start smoking, it’d be now.

“I have asthma! But sure! I can wait.” She went into the weird little room that’s neither inside nor outside that commercial spaces tend to have. She got a phone call.

You could use this as an opportunity to get information about the man who you had been fucking. She’d be more helpful here. She clearly knew him better. Sure you had seen him naked. But she knew him on a more intimate level it seemed.

You finished up your cigarette and crushed it under the heel of your shoe. You got a bottle of perfume out and began dusting it on a heavy layer. You took one big inhale and rolled your neck around. It cracked and you relaxed a bit.

Entering the Costa, she hung up her phone and smiled.

You both ordered. You got yourself one of their fruit biscuits and went to get out your cash.

“Oh no! I got it! All of it.” She whipped out a black card and tapped it to the reader. “Perks of the job.”

You nodded your head. You had heard of UNIT, but couldn’t be arsed to care.

“So, the Doctor.” The name sounded foreign coming out of your mouth. “How long have you worked with him?”

“Oh! Five years now!”

You placed a hand on your throat and rested your jaw on it.

“What’s his deal?”

“Wish I knew, but we should all be glad he exists, he’s the best we got.”

Oh!

You let out a little “mmhmm.”

Before you could get your next question, the drinks and your snack came.

She grabbed her milk babyccino and handed you your Cortado as you left the Costa. You didn’t want to get back in the Range Rover. This all seemed like a very bad idea. You should have never agreed to this.

But here you were, so you had to deal with it.

You got back in the back, the solider driving said they’d have to speed along, no stops.

You shrunk in the seat. You felt his one hand stroke your upper arm. He was trying to comfort you. You wish you could recoil, but you had grown too addicted to his touch. Against all instinct, you leaned into him and sipped your coffee. Just sat an observed, chiming in when people would outright ask you for your input. More sipping your coffee and staring glumly out the front windshield. You felt like a caged beast.

Soon enough you were in London and you could get out of the car. Sadly, it pulled into an underground military-style bunker.

You were very proud of yourself for keeping your cool and now having a major breakdown in there.

You entered a lift, still carrying your suitcase.

It went all the way to the top.

Some woman in a very impressive suit and a silk scarf met you all there.

More introductions.

The Doctor – Professor Smith- whatever his real title or honorific was, took your suitcase and told someone to take it to a place. You didn’t retain or hear. You were positively swimming. You hated how good this artificial, florescent lighting made the hollows of his face looked. He was a bit more formal in his dress than he ever was at the university. In this moment you hated how you were reacting to him. Obviously he had to confess things to you.

Obviously, there was a bit of a double standard, but this outweighed your little evasions and white lies.

There was a meeting and grand plans were drawn. Choices were made.

And you had to make choices for yourself.

It was close to midnight when you finally got out of the meeting. Tomorrow apparently they’d denote a device, after it was programmed and set up during the night. Apparently that’d save the Earth.

He was swanning along like he owned the place. Everyone was reverent. His word was law and his advice was the loudest.

Maybe you shouldn’t have smoked that cigarette beforehand. Maybe you needed several shots of vodka. Maybe you just were way out of your depth.

Soon enough you had an escort of two soldiers for him and you to a suite with the bare essentials of comfort. Your stupid suitcase was there. Like a fancy barracks.

The door locked and you were alone with him.

“It’s time I tell you some truths.” He said, sitting in a chair at the desk.

You threw your hands up, “You fucking think so?” It came out as a screech. You clapped your hand to your mouth.

“What the fuck?” You clapped your hands together as you leaned over and down to face him. “What the fuck was all that?” You crouched into a squat.

“Let me tell you.” His tone was silencing. Like you were in the wrong for this reaction.

“Fine!”

“Firstly, this changes nothing about the past months. But I am an alien from a planet far away and long since gone. I am over two-thousand years old. My name, my title, is the Doctor. Well the closest translation to any Earthling's language.”

You leaned back, gesturing with your hands in the “okay” position.

“I may be a little fucking slow, I may have a few learning disabilities, but I’m not fucking stupid. Are you…aware…of how incredibly far-fetched that sounds?” Your body swaying with the position of your hands. The hands quickly moved to press into the center of your forehead.

He undid a few buttons on his shirt.

You groaned.

He grabbed at your hands and you tried to escape. He flattened the palm of one and pressed it against his chest. You felt two hearts pumping. Your little observation after the first time you hooked up on how it seemed like he had two pulses wasn’t so stupid suddenly...

“Two hearts, fawn.” He said, using his pet name for you. “I’m alien.”

Your lower lip quivered.

No wonder he felt different than any other man you’d fucked previously. His body was different. He was.

Hot tears burned at the corners of your eyes, starting to splash out. You pulled yourself free and slunk onto the closest wall.

Figures that your first big infatuation that actually seemed to value your life was a fucking ancient alien. You felt like a total freak, were you really that screwed up that the only way you’d get anything resembling a healthy relationship was with an alien!

Your head found its way between your thighs.

“Nothing changes.” He repeated.

“How many others have you done this to?” You spat out. Pure venom.

“Rarely like you.”

“Oh, so I’m just the latest and greatest girl you’ve lured into submission! How kind! I was chosen! I feel special!” You raged out. Giving a little sarcastic bow from your sat position.

He joined you against the wall. You skittered yourself away from him.

“You’re special. Trust me. I had stopped. You met me in a different way. No danger, no trauma-bonding. No Nothing. If not for duties I neglected here for too long, I would have keep you safe. Continued to be your Professor John Smith. Existed…but I couldn’t bear not seeing you for as long as this will take here. Separate. Not my traveling assistant, not anything. Just my little fawn and our perfect microcosm of the universe.” He slid forward and looked you dead in the eye.

He cocked his head, “Remember when I was talking about what the universe owed us? I figured this was my long-awaited, pleaded for reward. To have you, for as long as this little life of yours could allow this fling to last.”

He was very good with words and you could feel them echoing pure and true in your head. Something made you relax and let your guard down.

You hoped it wasn’t some alien superpower he had.

You began openly weeping. Loud, a total cacophony. You started choking on your tears and having a hard time breathing.

He wiped the tears.

You let our a hiccup. He started rubbing small circles on the middle of your back.

“I planned on seeing a West End play with you, a proper date, like a human man would take a human woman to. If you don’t want to, I can order a car and you can go back to Bristol.” He offered.

You started crying even harder.

“Can I shower first? Before I can make a choice. On anything. Even you...” You admitted, needing to revise on your end if you even wanted to be with him in any capacity anymore.

“Understandable, (y/n).” The Doctor helped you up, and gave you your suitcase. You found your toiletries bag and shuffled in. You swore you heard him mutter, “Well, don’t overthink.” But you left that be. You had enough to think about, just add that to the list.

After getting undressed, you turned the water on the hottest it could go.

You began to wash away the day…

So much to think about…so little time to do so.

[m0e-ru]

hi ive been binging your blog a lot recently. i rlly adore the sheer effort you've given to these dumbass fucking characters that otherwise get such little people even attempting to appreciate or engage with them beyond very shallow depths. as someone who only really got into the p4 games relatively recently (2022. my only remembered experience with the series beforehand was like a couple episodes of the the p4anim years ago and playing p5 in 2016/2017) and kind of being shell-shocked by how characters like marie and teddie and namatame were perceived by the overall fanbase once i started engaging with it more i really appreciate all the writing and analysis and art and other shit you do for them. even the gas station attendant, a character i overlooked initially, i've come to love because of all the time and energy you put into picking them apart like a dead frog in a science class

uh yea idfk i feel generally vindicated by seeing the way you characterize these bitches. especially marie as someone who felt like a lot of her interesting aspects were evaporated by the fandom (somewhat because of p4ga i feel but but still) and wanted to see more silly fanart of her (and shumarie/soumarie/whatecvrer the fuck that wasn't just kind of surface level romance becuz i rlly do love their dynamic w how i see bancho in my head. idiots who dont know how to properly express themselves w one repressing themselves to adopt a likable persona and the other unable to shut the fuck up much to their own detriment. im not gonna get over that fucking "marie makes everyday sunny for him" post ever i think) so uh keep on keeping on and ill continue to like your posts and something

anyway dumb stupid cringe fucking rant over. i apologize if i come off like a loser i dont use this website and idk the general tumblr etiquette. im pretty sure shit like this shouldnt even go here but . dont need to respond to this i just wanted to yell into the void cuz i appreciate this account. rest of this will just be panels of marie and teddie and bancho from some of the p4g anthologies i own that i wanted to share in the off chance that you also dont already own said anthologies n have seen them befor. these r only from the last ID antho and the dengeki one because those r the only 2 i have proper pictures of

hai i read this ages ago and i wanna get back to it by saying youre so awesome possum forever and ever dont worry about your ettiquette because getting 3 essay worthy paragraphs of you talking is basically everyone ive met in the tumblr nation

another thing i remember is that a bestie also loved your offerings esp the last one because those two look so lalala AUAHUAHA okay i should answer this ask properly now that i have the time 🏃🏃🏃🏃

can we give it up for the bingers and blog skimmers !?!?!?! you guys are such an interesting breed i remember trying to do that in 2018 i can already recall the thrill going through my blood im so honored to see people doing that and moreso coming to me to tell me about it WAHAUHAHA 🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶

this gas station (blog) really is catered to the niche market of all time also because the way my brain is wired to just go in the dustiest nooks and corners of a community and thrive and live there. i AM the bug you see when you lift up the rock . hai . i'll do anything for these poor poor characters being tossed around like hot potato with people who dont bother understanding thing or even try to pick them up at all. also im getting such a kick every time someone tells me i got them into appreciating the attendant or even iznmi more OR in a different way. thats why im here bros . me when i do my JOB !!!! 🥳🥳🥳🥳🥳🥳🥳

the way fandom handles shipping has always irked me because theres just SO much you can do with two characters than just make them hold hands. what if there was blood invovled, you know . /starts pacing around the room / you know im glad you know the know it's so cool you know /shaking you/ im glad i have a post that's affected you so much like i thought it was just a silly caption at the time and seeing it after 2 or 3 years is like "YEAHH i cooked this " and im glad you brought it to me hehehe

i hope this gas station brings you joy and you keep coming back for more etc etc and please know i really am happy to see you around in whatever branch you show up at 🫡🫡🫡 /explordes

[bodycountgame]

The way I, and i think lots of others, would devour your Hozier essay like please spare us some crumbs i beg (also Vinh my beloved......when I say that song choice has ruined me.. your mind thank you)

hahaha okay this been so hotly requested but i am incapable of coherent thoughts so please enjoy these rambling thoughts that i jotted down in the notes app while on the bus!

i feel like there is more to be said but also bus journeys are finite so i'm just doing what i can with the time i have lol. what are your thoughts??? please share with the class i Know you have opinions and i wanna hear em!

adegoke: movement

so adegoke's character playlist actually has a different hozier song on it (from eden) which i always imagined to be more from MC's perspective. 

for adegoke, i love the idea of romance like the push and pull of the ocean currents, waves meeting and breaking, a rhythm. and movement just gives me that, i guess! adegoke is also a deeply creative person and movement really gives the vibe of the lover as an inspiration, a muse, which i think would be something that he would totally relate to. as a writer, love is at the core of his work - even when it isn't the subject it is what he finds grounding. 

adegoke also loves to dance (and is an excellent dancer) so that particular expression feels so appropriate. 

arthur: angel of small death and the codeine scene 

this one is quite literal, i guess - arthur is a mean little weasel and it can be a challenge to find the sweetness in him. i think arthur defaults to an "i can make them worse" approach to romance which i think this sort of speaks to.

also his family are terrible and he often feels like a bit of a stray, i think. 

atticus: NFWMB

this one has been pulled straight from his character playlist because its just So ???????? musically it just reminds me of him but i know nothing about music so i have no idea how to articulate it - the sort of unassuming and almost casual vibe contrasted with the utter devotion in the lyrics. the emotional intensity comes from the lack of fanfare, you know?

also like. atticus loves a hair pull, sort of sexy possessive vibes and a rhetorical question so the "ain't you my baby" really hits on that level as well lmaooo 

avery: it will come back

this is another one that is already on avery's character playlist hahaha what can i say i'm a hozier bitch!

this choice is really about avery's complicated relationship with softness and intimacy, especially in a romance with MC which is Forbidden when she places such an emphasis on her professionalism. the way that she partitions different parts of her life is something of a defense for her after her difficult experiences in medicine - she's learned the hard way, she knows better, and yet she just can't help herself. i always think of avery's romance as being like a dam bursting; there's nothing for a long time until a little crack forms and then the dam breaks and everything falls apart. once she has a taste she can't be satiated, which i think this song speaks to. 

charlie - sunlight

he just can't keep away, even knowing how totally disastrous it will probably be for him, but he continues on gladly because he thinks that being that close to the sun will feel worth it even after it's burned him. he's 'death trap clad happily'. 

ellis - almost (sweet music) 

i did a deep dive into ellis' who playlist on patreon way back when and (surprise surprise) this was one of the songs that features on their playlist. this was actually one that i didn't say too much about because its just a bop, you know??? there's the lyrics about their foolish heart, but otherwise this song just screams ellis at me and i never really know why its just a warm fuzzy good vibe and that's them all over. 

florrie - take me to church 

a song thats an endictment of catholicism And fucking???? all the ingredients to make up a solid florrie song. there are a few lines that give me big florrie energy (she's the giggle at the funeral / knows everybody's disapproval / my lover's the sunlight / get something shiny) but in general i imagine florrie would fare well being worshipped, i think that's a great dynamic for her, so this is reflective of that. 

griffin - someone new 

i don't think this one really needs much explanation - griffin falls fast and hard and often. he's my romeo, and every bit as naive.

beyond that, i do think that griff is someone who doesn't believe there's a Right Way to go about things and he's quite happy to muddle through life and always seems to land on his feet - a great person to help someone really uptight unwind hahaha 

imogen - my love will never die 

of all the characters, imogen is the one who is most likely to get on her knees and beg someone to love her. 

also she loves flowers 💐 

nyra - to be alone 

this one is also pretty literal lmao i am many things but i am Not a deep thinker. she doesn't love crowds, and i think the thing that nyra would value most in a partner is having someone that she can be alone with, if that makes sense? one of those special people that you can hang out with and still have the regenerative effect of alone time. 

when we meet nyra in body count she's in the midst of a really hard time in her life - we're at a real low point for her. she doesn't really feel like a person, she feels like a zombie dragging herself from one day to the next. she needs to work through that on her own (falling in love doesn't Magically Fix People), but i think that her relationship with MC would give her a few little sparking reminders to help guide her on her way. 

rowan - jackie and wilson 

again soz this is on her character playlist hahaha! this is an absolute rowan anthem for me - she is my roman candle of the wild. i mean obviously this song is so fun and that is Very Rowan, but the "better yet, she wouldn't care" particularly speaks to me. rowan is very much someone who can meet people where they're at with grace and understanding and help to build them up. 

syd - work song 

syd was the hardest person to match a song with, weirdly, but it was the second verse that really cinched it (and I was burnin' up a fever / i didn't care much how long i lived / but i swear i thought i dreamed her / she never asked me once about the wrong i did). syd is a hard person to Date because they are a fuck up! they don't always get things right or know the right things to say or make the right gesture. that said, if someone can work through the initial challenges with them, they would be rewarded with endless devotion (albeit expressed in their own funny little way). 

vinh - in a week 

lying down and dying together in a field to be eaten by animals is peak romance to vinh lmao. in general, i think once they find Their Person it will be someone that they can feel at home and happy with regardless of the situation, and there isn't much that they wouldn't be willing to endure as long as they had that. 

[graywritesoccasionally42]

So I wrote an entire essay comparing Loki from The Bifrost Incident to Loki from the Prose Edda for my Medieval Literature Class, and I figured I'd post it here in case anyone wanted to read my analysis on her character

Essay Under Cut--(my formatting got fucked up by the hellsite but what can you do?)

“Is this truly me? What have I left behind?”

A look into how The Bifrost Incident interacts with its source material

Title from “Losing Track” by The Mechanisms

In the early 1200s, Snorri Sturlson wrote his famous collection of Norse mythology called The Prose Edda. In this compilation, we met many gods, goddesses, and creatures, including one who is arguably the most popular Norse deity--Loki, the god of mischief and general shenanigans. The Prose Edda presents Loki as dishonest, violent, at times incompetent. Recently though, about 800 years later, Loki has attracted the interest of many modern writers who have adapted Loki’s story to explore contemporary problems. One particular adaptation, The Bifrost Incident by English steampunk band The Mechanisms, imagines her to be just,  intelligent, and loving. There are many striking differences between these two versions of Loki, the most significant being gender, mortality, and how their stories end. This is important because this album re-examines and redefines Loki’s identity, and how we view this Norse deity in a modern context.

To fully delve into how The Mechanisms’ adaptation works, I think some context for the band is necessary. The Mechanisms were an English steampunk band, self-described as “Storytelling Musical Cabaret'' that operated from 2010 until 2020. The Band members themselves were in character at all times as the immortal pirate crew of the Starship Aurora. They also took on the roles in the tales they told. So for example, Tim Ledsam was the guitarist for The Mechanisms, but when he was onstage he played Gunpowder Tim, Master at Arms on the Aurora, and when the band performed The Bifrost Incident, he voiced the character of Loki. The Mechanisms were best known for their clever reworking of mythologies, creating queer narratives and telling queer stories, and their love of tragedies. In their last concert (recorded as a live album), Death to The Mechanisms, Jonny D’ville--the band’s first mate/lead vocalist. played by Jonny Sims--and Ashes O'Reilly--the band’s quartermaster/bassist, played by Frank Voss--had a conversation that encapsulates the crew's relationship with unhappy endings: 

[Jonny]

"We happen to stumble across tragic situations where everyone dies. I mean, obviously there are stories where people live but we just choose not to tell them."

[Ashes]

"Yeah, 'cause they're boring."

[Jonny]

"Yeah…”

The fact that this conversation happened during some technical difficulties in the song “Terminus”, the finale of The Bifrost Incident where the entire star system is consumed by a Lovecraftian Cosmic Horror, only adds credence to their claims. 

With that bit of explanation out of the way, let’s discuss the similarities between Sturlson’s work and The Mechanisms’ adaptation of it. Loki from The Prose Edda and Loki from The Bifrost Incident share many important similarities. These similarities are important because they make the character recognizable, giving us a reference point and allowing the audience to connect the new version to the original. The Mechanisms play on the audience’s knowledge of Norse Mythology, creating an insider audience. Listeners feel like they are in on the joke, as they understand what myths or details are being referenced. The Mechanisms also use these similarities to create puns, as they often do in their albums. For example, in The Prose Edda Baldur is killed by Mistletoe, and in The Bifrost Incident Loki kills Baldur with Missile 2 (the second missile).  

Another thing The Mechanisms’ adaptation has in common with Sturlson’s work is how they develop ideas through music. The Bifrost Incident is a musical album, with each song continuing the story, much like the soundtrack to a musical. It alternates between spoken narration and songs, weaving music into the fabric of the tale. The Prose Edda does this as well! We have evidence that the original myths were probably put to music, connecting this modern work to its source. 

This being said, there are significant differences between the Loki of The Prose Edda and the Loki from The Bifrost Incident. I’ve selected just three to discuss at this time, the ones I think are the most important. The first is gender. In The Prose Edda Loki and Odin are firmly male, using exclusively male pronouns. There is a specific instance in the text where Loki turns into a mare and gives birth to Sleipnir, Odin’s eight-legged steed. This is seen in a negative context, as a way to shame or punish Loki. In The Bifrost Incident, however, Loki and Odin are gender-bent, using exclusively female pronouns. Loki’s gender expression in the album is further complicated by how her character is voiced. Gunpowder Tim, who as far as I can tell is a cisgender man, voices this specifically female character. The use of a more masculine-sounding voice actor for a character that not only uses feminine terms and pronouns but also is married to another woman in the album introduces a new, interesting layer of queerness to the narrative. Because of this casting decision, it’s a commonly held belief among fans that Loki is a trans woman in the album. These choices help the audience explore modern queer themes through the lens of Norse mythology. And it creates a contrast to how gender, sexuality, and queerness in general, were talked about in Snorri Sturlson’s time. 

The second difference I’d like to discuss is Loki’s mortality (or lack thereof). In The Prose Edda Loki is a god, an immortal being that could affect the world around him and cause problems on large scales. This allows many myths to happen, most strikingly the ones where Loki transforms into an animal to either cause problems or fix a problem he caused. Now this is complicated by the fact that Snorri Sturlson did not believe the characters in the myths he was compiling were gods. He lived in a Christianized world, trying to compile stories to save them for poets. Either way, Prose Edda Loki is an immortal deity. But in The Bifrost Incident, it is important that all our characters are mortal. It intensifies the tragedy of Loki and Sigyn, their sacrifice and Odin’s demise. It helps us relate to the characters in a way that we don’t get if they’re immortal. In the narration “Cold Case”, we learn that Loki was thought to be dead, and in the song “Sigyn” we get the heartbreaking reunion between Loki and her wife, Sigyn. But the reason I cry every time I listen to “Sigyn” is because of how heartrendingly happy Sigyn is to see her wife, alive and in front of her, and then see that relief ripped away as she realizes that Loki doesn’t recognize her. The humanity, the fear and permanence of death, of losing those you love, is one that we as an audience can easily relate to. 

My final difference, and possibly the most important difference, is the ending to Loki’s story. After killing Baldur in The Prose Edda, Loki is chased down by the Aesir and eternally punished: He is imprisoned below the earth, tied down with the entrails of his sons, and has a snake set above him to drip poison into his eyes. His wife, Sigyn, stays with him by choice, holding a cup above him to catch the venom, but the vessel can only hold so much before it must be emptied. So when Sigyn has to empty the cup the venom gets into his eyes, and his thrashing is the etiological myth for why earthquakes happen. Eventually, Loki is destined to escape and kick off Ragnarok (the end of the world), where he fights against the Aesir--sailing in on Naglfar and fatally injuring Heimdall before dying himself. These all add up to an ultimately evil view of Loki, even if he is a bit sympathetic. He turns against the gods and his children are the cause of much destruction. However, the Loki of The Bifrost Incident has a completely different characterization. After her memories are returned to her, she leaves Odin to her madness and goes to find Sigyn. She tells Sigyn what they must do to delay the eldritch train as long as possible, keeping the end of the world from happening for 80 years-- 

“They uncouple the [train] carriages behind [them] and Loki lays upon the altar. Sigyn pushes a single line into her wife's heart and holds it tight. All she lets through is a drip drip drip, flowing through the glyphs and gears. When Loki's heartsblood is gone, the train will arrive, but until then, they are together.”

Loki chooses to sacrifice herself to stop the end of all life in her star system. This is almost directly opposite of how Loki acts in The Prose Edda. She is noble, in contrast to his cowardice. 

I think it’s important to consider why these changes were made. Some are more obvious--The Mechanisms always committed to the bit at full throttle. It’s evident from their stage presences that they cared about the storytelling more than anything else. So many of the more minor changes are to keep to the aesthetic choices the band made--setting it in space, steampunk and cyberpunk imagery, and the puns we talked about earlier. Some choices were made to turn the original myths into queer stories. Making Loki and Sigyn a lesbian couple, as well as having Loki use feminine terms and pronouns while being voiced by a traditionally masculine voice actor, fall into The Mechanisms’ commitment to telling queer stories. Many of the band members themselves are queer, and the vast majority of their fanbase identifies as LGBTQ+. And finally, The Mechanisms only tell tragedies. We discussed this at a few earlier points, how the change from god to mortal fed into the tragedy of the story they were trying to tell. 

So why does this matter? Why should we care about a Steampunk concept album written in 2017 that no one has ever heard of? The Prose Edda was written to preserve poetry, religion, mythology, and meaning post-Christianization. Why was The Bifrost Incident written? I believe that it’s a commentary on corrupt government systems, as seen with Odin, as well as a cautionary tale about the dangers of pushing too far without the proper safety precautions. It’s also just a fun retelling of myths that most are fairly familiar with in a fun, new setting we never would have expected. The Bifrost Incident takes stories written hundreds of years ago and creates a modern narrative that is as enjoyable as it is thought-provoking. And I hope this paper, if nothing else, convinces you to listen to the Album.

[sereia1313]

VOICEMAIL:

For sesskag.

“A million dollars? I’d fuck him for a plate of spaghetti and a mismatched pair of socks.”

I shouldn't expect anything less than chaos from you @mrfeenysmustache but I can't even complain because this prompt is AMAZING! Also, I managed to work in a sweater vest for you 😉😉😉.

SessKag - “A million dollars? I’d fuck him for a plate of spaghetti and a mismatched pair of socks.”

“So what do you think of the new prof?” Yuka asked. Kagome could tell she was grinning even without looking up from her notebook, choosing not to answer.

Not that she needed to; Ayumi and Eri were giggling too much for her to get a word in edgewise, anyway. No one would know they were in their final year of university instead of high school, with how they never stopped gossiping about boys. 

And Professor Taisho was no boy.

She was surprised her friends were passing the class, considering how often they talked about him. She understood why. The professor was over six feet of toned muscle, clad in thin-rimmed glasses and a sweater vest, and there was a neverending conversation about how they wanted to corrupt him. 

Kagome had signed up for his class because he was the leading historian in Japanese mythology. She wanted to write children’s books, to turn real legends into stories that would capture their imagination. But she needed a degree in history first.

Looking down at her notebook, she made a face. She’d drawn him again. She retraced the line of his jaw, adding a bit of shadow behind his ears. Her friends were the ones who talked about him, but she was the one who was distracted.

It was the eyes that did it. 

Kagome had always been curious as a child, but there was something about Professor Taisho’s eyes, something about his knowledge of deities and demons that went beyond simple studying. It drew her in again and again, to the point where her hand had a mind of its own, filling her notebook with sketches of him from all angles. 

“Would it kill you to take a break from studying for five minutes?” Eri whined.

Yuka scoffed, nudging her in the ribs. “Yeah, right. You could offer her a million dollars to get naked with him, and she’d turn it down.”

Hiding her doodle, Kagome leaned back with a grin. “A million dollars? I’d fuck him for a plate of spaghetti and a mismatched pair of socks.” Their jaws fell open at her confession, squirming in their seats as she laughed. “Wasn’t that what you wanted to hear?”

A cough sounded from behind them, and Kagome whirled around, coming face to face with the subject of their discussion. His vest was lavender today, and he placed her most recent essay on the table next to her. She swallowed a groan, attempting to slam her notebook shut as her friends scrambled away in embarrassment. 

“I would advise you to spend more time on your studies, but I cannot deny your expertise in the subject matter.” 

Kagome flushed. “Thanks, professor. I kinda like your class.”

“So I have noticed.” He leaned closer, tapping her notebook. “Your notes are meticulous.” The heat increased as she realized she hadn’t shut it fully, landing on a sketch of him half turned away from the board, coiffed hair covering one eye.

“It helps me focus,” she said lamely. She’d never pass his course now. He’d probably report her for harassment.

He turned the book around, inspecting the lines of her drawing, and Kagome swallowed thickly, able to smell his cologne at this proximity. Something flashed in his eyes, the edge of his lips twitching. “You will likely find a better angle during my office hours,” he said, tone smug.

Kagome gaped, certain she’d misheard him. “What?” 

The twitch turned into a smirk. “I am not a fan of spaghetti, though, so you will have to find another type of cuisine to entice me.”

Her mouth snapped shut, the heat in her face returning for a different reason, and he closed her notebook, then tapped the 100 on the front of her essay. “Keep up the good work, Higurashi.” He continued on his way, handing out the rest of the assignments, but he didn’t linger with anyone else, and she was left wondering if she’d imagined the entire thing.

As he made his way to the front of the room, he caught her eye again, flecks of gold shining through hazel, and he tilted his head to match the drawing he’d been looking at.

Apparently, Professor Taisho was not only tempting but a tease, and Kagome wasn’t sure she would survive the semester.

“So what do you think of the new prof?” Yuka asked. Kagome could tell she was grinning even without looking up from her notebook, choosing not to answer.

Not that she needed to; Ayumi and Eri were giggling too much for her to get a word in edgewise, anyway. No one would know they were in their final year of university instead of high school, with how they never stopped gossiping about boys. 

And Professor Taisho was no boy.

She was surprised her friends were passing the class, considering how often they talked about him. She understood why. The professor was over six feet of toned muscle, clad in thin-rimmed glasses and a sweater vest, and there was a neverending conversation about how they wanted to corrupt him. 

Kagome had signed up for his class because he was the leading historian in Japanese mythology. She wanted to write children’s books, to turn real legends into stories that would capture their imagination. But she needed a degree in history first.

Looking down at her notebook, she made a face. She’d drawn him again. She retraced the line of his jaw, adding a bit of shadow behind his ears. Her friends were the ones who talked about him, but she was the one who was distracted.

It was the eyes that did it. 

Kagome had always been curious as a child, but there was something about Professor Taisho’s eyes, something about his knowledge of deities and demons that went beyond simple studying. It drew her in again and again, to the point where her hand had a mind of its own, filling her notebook with sketches of him from all angles. 

“Would it kill you to take a break from studying for five minutes?” Eri whined.

Yuka scoffed, nudging her in the ribs. “Yeah, right. You could offer her a million dollars to get naked with him, and she’d turn it down.”

Hiding her doodle, Kagome leaned back with a grin. “A million dollars? I’d fuck him for a plate of spaghetti and a mismatched pair of socks.” Their jaws fell open at her confession, squirming in their seats as she laughed. “Wasn’t that what you wanted to hear?”

A cough sounded from behind them, and Kagome whirled around, coming face to face with the subject of their discussion. His vest was lavender today, and he placed her most recent essay on the table next to her. She swallowed a groan, attempting to slam her notebook shut as her friends scrambled away in embarrassment. 

“I would advise you to spend more time on your studies, but I cannot deny your expertise in the subject matter.” 

Kagome flushed. “Thanks, professor. I kinda like your class.”

“So I have noticed.” He leaned closer, tapping her notebook. “Your notes are meticulous.” The heat increased as she realized she hadn’t shut it fully, landing on a sketch of him half turned away from the board, coiffed hair covering one eye.

“It helps me focus,” she said lamely. She’d never pass his course now. He’d probably report her for harassment.

He turned the book around, inspecting the lines of her drawing, and Kagome swallowed thickly, able to smell his cologne at this proximity. Something flashed in his eyes, the edge of his lips twitching. “You will likely find a better angle during my office hours,” he said, tone smug.

Kagome gaped, certain she’d misheard him. “What?” 

The twitch turned into a smirk. “I am not a fan of spaghetti, though, so you will have to find another type of cuisine to entice me.”

Her mouth snapped shut, the heat in her face returning for a different reason, and he closed her notebook, then tapped the 100 on the front of her essay. “Keep up the good work, Higurashi.” He continued on his way, handing out the rest of the assignments, but he didn’t linger with anyone else, and she was left wondering if she’d imagined the entire thing.

As he made his way to the front of the room, he caught her eye again, flecks of gold shining through hazel, and he tilted his head to match the drawing he’d been looking at.

Apparently, Professor Taisho was not only tempting but a tease, and Kagome wasn’t sure she would survive the semester.

“So what do you think of the new prof?” Yuka asked. Kagome could tell she was grinning even without looking up from her notebook, choosing not to answer.

Not that she needed to; Ayumi and Eri were giggling too much for her to get a word in edgewise, anyway. No one would know they were in their final year of university instead of high school, with how they never stopped gossiping about boys. 

And Professor Taisho was no boy.

She was surprised her friends were passing the class, considering how often they talked about him. She understood why. The professor was over six feet of toned muscle, clad in thin-rimmed glasses and a sweater vest, and there was a neverending conversation about how they wanted to corrupt him. 

Kagome had signed up for his class because he was the leading historian in Japanese mythology. She wanted to write children’s books, to turn real legends into stories that would capture their imagination. But she needed a degree in history first.

Looking down at her notebook, she made a face. She’d drawn him again. She retraced the line of his jaw, adding a bit of shadow behind his ears. Her friends were the ones who talked about him, but she was the one who was distracted.

It was the eyes that did it. 

Kagome had always been curious as a child, but there was something about Professor Taisho’s eyes, something about his knowledge of deities and demons that went beyond simple studying. It drew her in again and again, to the point where her hand had a mind of its own, filling her notebook with sketches of him from all angles. 

“Would it kill you to take a break from studying for five minutes?” Eri whined.

Yuka scoffed, nudging her in the ribs. “Yeah, right. You could offer her a million dollars to get naked with him, and she’d turn it down.”

Hiding her doodle, Kagome leaned back with a grin. “A million dollars? I’d fuck him for a plate of spaghetti and a mismatched pair of socks.” Their jaws fell open at her confession, squirming in their seats as she laughed. “Wasn’t that what you wanted to hear?”

A cough sounded from behind them, and Kagome whirled around, coming face to face with the subject of their discussion. His vest was lavender today, and he placed her most recent essay on the table next to her. She swallowed a groan, attempting to slam her notebook shut as her friends scrambled away in embarrassment. 

“I would advise you to spend more time on your studies, but I cannot deny your expertise in the subject matter.” 

Kagome flushed. “Thanks, professor. I kinda like your class.”

“So I have noticed.” He leaned closer, tapping her notebook. “Your notes are meticulous.” The heat increased as she realized she hadn’t shut it fully, landing on a sketch of him half turned away from the board, coiffed hair covering one eye.

“It helps me focus,” she said lamely. She’d never pass his course now. He’d probably report her for harassment.

He turned the book around, inspecting the lines of her drawing, and Kagome swallowed thickly, able to smell his cologne at this proximity. Something flashed in his eyes, the edge of his lips twitching. “You will likely find a better angle during my office hours,” he said, tone smug.

Kagome gaped, certain she’d misheard him. “What?” 

The twitch turned into a smirk. “I am not a fan of spaghetti, though, so you will have to find another type of cuisine to entice me.”

Her mouth snapped shut, the heat in her face returning for a different reason, and he closed her notebook, then tapped the 100 on the front of her essay. “Keep up the good work, Higurashi.” He continued on his way, handing out the rest of the assignments, but he didn’t linger with anyone else, and she was left wondering if she’d imagined the entire thing.

As he made his way to the front of the room, he caught her eye again, flecks of gold shining through hazel, and he tilted his head to match the drawing he’d been looking at.

Apparently, Professor Taisho was not only tempting but a tease, and Kagome wasn’t sure she would survive the semester.

Thanks for the prompt!

Part of my dialogue/drabble ask Voicemail. Asks are still open!

[sieglinde-freud]

i think the fell xenologue does a great job at characterizing some of the royals beyond the vanilla game mostly because every single royal has like one or two core principles that really make them who they are and so getting rid of those one or two things completely converts them into a completely different person. like alcryst losing his self doubt, celine loses her empathy, hortensia loses her resilience, etc etc. but i think my favorite version of this has to be fogado, who has in my opinion the most drastic change. i think all of the other royals have very outward presenting traits that you can easily catch onto and see theyve lost. but fogado is just a little different, because what fell fogado lacks isnt really a trait; he loses his sense of love. (rest under the cut bc it turned into an essay. my bad also fell xenologue spoilers obvs)

“our” fogado (?? idk how to differentiate between them. work with me here) is not an easy person to read in universe. he makes it very clear in chapter 13 that he’s pretty good at deception and is very willing to make use of that skill. his supports with timerra and pandreo also tell us he’s gotten used to keeping up a specially crafted persona meant to kind of suppress his feelings (that timerra and pandreo can see through but. like 1. theyre smart 2. sister and bff ok moving on). but he doesn’t do it out of malice or because he just likes being tricky, he lies because he loves. everything in fogado’s life is shaped by what he loves: his country, his friends, and his sister. every single motivation he has is fueled by this: the constant partying, how often he leaves the castle, all his acting. its even in his goddamn class name (cupido) and birthday (feb 14) if you needed the game to spell it out for you

so thats why when we get to the fell xenologue, the fogado we meet is changed in that one specific way: his love is gone. we know this because of a few things, the first of which is that he is honest. aside from the robe (in which he is assassinating someone! but also. lets be so honest with ourselves here. you can see his fucking face) he’s immediately upfront with his intentions: he wants the bracelets, he wants power, and he wants you to die. and thats it. he just kind of hands you that information, and then fucks off when you win. on what earth would our fogado do that? dude wouldnt even tell you if he broke his leg, he just partied a little hard last night. but thats just it isnt it? our fogado lies because he loves people, hes protecting them. fell!fogado is transparent because he’s not protecting anyone, he doesn’t care.

but the biggest kicker in fell!fogado’s lack of love is in his interaction with our timerra. our fogado loves his sister more than anything, as he literally plans his entire life around making HER life easier. he sacrifices even just spending time with her just because he needs to make sure hes fully prepared to keep her safe (not that timerra wants that for him but he doesnt really get that. which is another topic i could dive into but this post is long enough lets not make it a novel). fell!fogado though? well you see–

any love fogado holds for his sister, or any love at all really, is just not present in fell!fogado. and you could say that maybe its just because of the corruption, but then why do we still see love between the fierenese and brodian siblings? even fell!timerra still loves her brother if her conversation with our fogado is anything to go off of. but the writers know that fogado lives and dies on his love for people, its his entire being and so much more so than the rest of the cast. which is why thats what had to change in him for the fell xenologue. it wasnt really just a flip of the switch haha murder thing (though. it could have been handled better. lets be real) but it was the loss of everything that makes fogado him. and i think the fact that this gets to be highlighted in the dlc just makes base game fogado all that much more interesting, because it cements his motivation now that we know what he's like without it. fogado is a guy driven by love and its just fucking great

[queer-coded-camaro-driver]

The #1 Reason Stranger Things Fell Apart, an Essay:

**All things stated below are my personal OPINION and do not have to impact your views if you don't want them to. As an avid D&D player, however, I wanted to write this out for shits n giggles. I was in the mood. This also doesn't address the racism, badly handled character intros, or random B-character deaths.

There is one rule to rule them all in Dungeons & Dragons, a rule so vital to smooth gameplay and story-building that the smartest players know to break it almost certainly means death:

Never split the party.

(There's an entire song about it, that's how deeply engrained in the culture it is).

Once the party has been separated it's not only way easier for your characters to get ambushed/get in trouble/die, it's way harder for all members of the game to keep having the same level of fun! Usually because the wait time between turns and plot development causes players to lose interest or lose track of their last actions.

When it comes to Season 1 of Stranger Things, we have multiple groups of characters building plots together: Nancy, Steve, Jonathan, and the other teens have their drama together. Hopper and the investigation into Hawkins' weird science has its own plot. Will's disappearance and the children hiding El are the main focus - and those groups are almost NEVER narratively separated.

These plots are interwoven to create the greater story and build suspense but the groups within are constantly orbiting around one another to strengthen those connections. Despite my current beef with the Duffers, Season 1 was pretty damn successful in following the Golden Rule of TTRPG.

So when S2 arrives and the process of El's reunification with Mike/the Party gets dragged out further than necessary, all that yummy tension dissipates. Rather than using the established relationships to scaffold new conflicts (Mike/El, Mike/Max(?), Max & Lucas' crush/truce, Dustin's frustration, Will's loneliness, etc.), they broke these load-bearing narratives into smaller "more digestible" chunks.

As S3 and S4 went on, the group fractured even further apart. With this separation came the loss of critical character traits. Mama Byers' beloved velcro-mothering disappears in the face of Hopper's potential survival. Jonathan and Nancy's class disparity falls out of the story despite being one of the more interesting aspects of the "Teen Drama".

Max slips away, Lucas slips away, Dustin and Mike join the Hellfire Club... I know these shifts are meant to represent the way things change in high school but the clique-forming is so fast and drastic by S4 that the Party is unrecognizable.

The Duffers lost serious momentum when they split the party the first time by sending El to Chicago to meet her retconned siblings. But rather than learning from this mistake, they tried doing it a different way over and over until the compiled failures led to... Whatever the fuck is going on right now.

They COULD have done some fascinating stuff with Will and Billy's birthdays marking the dates of the first and final episodes of S4, Vol 1 respectively. They share a name and they were both Flayed. That could have been SUCH a cool coincidence to play with. Yet somehow the fans noticed their timeline mistake before they did, ffs.

They could have done some cool stuff with the Upside Down and Billy and Max getting a heartwarming sibling redemption arc. The 4 OG Party guys could have talked through a legit heart-to-heart about growing up and finding new interests but staying friends, Breakfast Club style.

But no. We got whatever the fuck the Henry Creel stuff was/is/will be. It's not the worst possible writing they could have done, but that element could have been incorporated with so much creativity and class... Yet it got shoehorned between several other developing ideas instead.

And honestly I don't think any of the massively laggy sub-plots with Joyce and Russia and Hopper in jail and Dustin's Mormon girlfriend's stoner sister would have happened if the Duffers had simply followed the rules and never split the party.

[josiebelladonna]

What’s a fic you’ve read more than once?

been a long time since I’ve actually read any fanfic, and it’s usually from other fandoms, too. music rpf is just… it’s painful to even look at anymore. between the awful grammar, the synopses that turn me right the fuck off, and the dark specter of a fact that i don’t know if the author is going to be a backstabbing jerk to me either on here or on ao3.

2. What’s a gifset you always have to reblog?

anything from any of testament’s videos. gifs of these men are like canteens in a desert.

3. What’s a headcanon you can’t stop thinking about?

there’s a few:

alex’s gray streak is synonymous with lightning and if he loses it, he loses his ability to play guitar as incredible as he does.

alex has crooked teeth to conceal his fangs.

alex really does shoot a little pre-cum whenever someone calls him alejandro. …take all the time you need.

the whole “milk and cookies” thing from fever (long story short: sam liked to treat alex to ginger snaps and he would let his gaze fall onto her chest. it’s a parody of the male gaze, a middle finger to misandry and the belief that men shouldn’t express their sexuality, and a subtle clue that alex has always loved her and been attracted to her).

eric is geddy lee’s evil twin (listen to dragonlord and you’ll see what i’m talking about)

from a few kinktober one shots: eric actually is a dragon. the thing that coaxes him out is angry eroticism.

eric often fantasizes about tying up alex and hand-feeding him things like cannoli and donuts.

eric has a food kink and a bdsm streak. chuck has a water kink + a textile kink. alex is the kinkiest of them all (a guy that straitlaced is hiding some things FACT).

chuck’s cancer left scar tissue on his heart and lungs. eric has scar tissue on his legs from when he fell down the stairs. alex’s gray streak is a scar from when he smacked his head on a thousand-foot Mesa of stone shaped like a castle. any questions?

another one: the whole thing with poison plants. my guess is it’s a hangover from writing anthrax fanfic, given joey’s last name (and it helps that he has a song called “deadly nightshade”), but i really don’t know where it came from.

another one: the connection between alex and snakes. one of those things that needs to be written out into a full-fledged essay.

4. What’s a fanart you love looking at?

uuuuuuuuuuuuggggggggggghhhhhhhhhhh, i don’t know.

5. What’s an idea you’d love to create if you had the time/inspiration?

i’ve had an idea for a fic called “weekend at billy’s” (parody of weekend at bernie’s) for a long time now. i’ve also had an idea for a second sequel to seasons grey since beginning dark roots of earth, and an idea for a testament/powerwolf fic for @teababe27

i officially do not have the motivation to do any of them because i am genuinely hated. fandom is sick of seeing me. in fact, i’m surprised i even have the motivation to do anything that has to do with writing people hate me so much 🫤😢

6. What’s something you’ve discovered since entering this fandom? A new trope you love? A different analysis of them? Something else?

i’ve discovered a few things, actually. i like class. i’m sensual. i’m kinky, perhaps too much so. these five men have helped me uncover my true self. they are painfully untapped. dark fantasy and gothic lit tropes fit them like a glove, like they’re a step over a band like type o negative in terms of darkness: must be all the black they wear. testament fans (for the most part, anyway) apparently have me on some kind of shitlist—you know, i just think back to last year, when their social accounts started sharing more of my drawings, the amount of comments that downright bashed me, like i thought soundgarden, pearl jam, and metallica fans were fucking rude.

7. What’s your favourite era? And has this changed after multiple relistens?

practice what you preach era. forever the “stud” era.

and something about bands having album covers that are mostly black released around the time of albums with covers that are yellow, like it’s a sign that things are about to get kinky around here. they have practice what you preach —> souls of black —> the ritual —> low; anthrax had state of euphoria —> persistence of time; soundgarden had superunknown —> down on the upside; alex himself has a variant of this with veritas —> conundrum (see?).

8. What do you expect going into your kinktober event?

nothing, and i really mean that, too. i didn’t say “fuck it all and no regrets” yesterday for no reason. they’re not a popular fandom to begin with and i’m the most reviled fanwriter right now: i made them radioactive. in fact, i’m surprised more metalheads don’t want to tear me a new one, both with them and anthrax and metallica. i’m an alt rock kid who wandered off because the alt rock fandom wants nothing to do with me, either. what’s worse is when i’m out of here, i know some other writer is going to come along with something in their arsenal and people will just eat that shit up and bury me, forgetting i was ever here in the process. 5 and a half years and nearly 5 million words total on ao3, and it’s all going to be buried six feet under by some obnoxious 19-year-old bitch who writes for her “readers” not because she has a very real crush on alex and had a feeling that the feelings are mutual and wanted to explore it.

9. What line/dialogue/description from something else (a poem, a book, a tv show, a movie, or something else) do you feel describes them?

“you’re my vitamins.” -nirvana, “drain you” (one of their best songs, no less)

[st-danger]

hey! i'm really not a writer but i have to take a class on it next year and i'm really scared by it, so i'm trying to get opinions and whatnot from people who do write. (that's why you might see this ask in a lot of authors' inboxes heh) i'm wondering if there's anything that helps you get in the mood to write, if there's anything that causes/makes worse a writer's block, if you find it easier to write when given a prompt or if you prefer to make things up completely, if you prefer writing a story or more of an essay, how long does it take you to finish something and how do you know it's finished? and i know a lot of these could be answered with "it depends" but please avoid saying that if you can! thank you for helping me!

MISSED THIS, TOO. I hope you see this, I'm so sorry I'm just only now responding. In order:

1.) Don't wait to get in the mood to write. The best thing you can do is avoid waiting until the mood strikes you, and just sit down and do it. If you can sit down and write a ton because you have a mighty need, fantastic. If you sit down and feel uninspired but find a groove, suddenly you'll hit your stride and be in the mood. This is fantastic. Or, you might sit down and write three sentences and close it up for the day. This is also fantastic. Writing is a muscle to be worked out, and the more you do, the better. Don't wait for inspiration to strike. Create your own.

2.) In my opinion, writer's block is caused by one of two things: getting burnt out by it, or getting in your head about it. If you're feeling burnt out on a particular project, start something new. If you're getting in your own way, remind yourself not to edit as you go. Write down whatever comes to you and don't worry about quality. Just get it out. I find that I do best when I push through, and I do my very best to sit down and write every day, even when I don't feel like it. Even when I write next to nothing. I think that doing this has improved my writing a lot. Of course, I'm just one guy, and this approach might be frustrating instead of helpful. Some people do best taking a break for a few days and coming back to things with fresh eyes. If you're stuck on a particular part, you're always allowed to skip to another scene you feel like writing. I tend to only write in order because that's what's comfortable for me, but skipping around can help you keep momentum.

3.) I don't know if I have much of a preference for prompted versus my own thoughts. Both allow for creativity, and if you ever find yourself in a rut, being handed an idea and asked to run with it can help you get out of said rut. If the prompt is open-ended, I have more than enough space to put my own spin on things. If it's very specific, then I have a very clear framework which often makes things easier. If it's my own, I get to play in my sandbox and fuck up the sand castles however I want. Benefits to all, and I would encourage you to do both.

4.) How long varies greatly, especially with fanfiction, especially as I write different characters and figure out how I want to write their voices. On average, if I'm in my groove, I can write between 1,500 to 2,000 words in an hour, though "Reap What You Sow" is about 3k and I got that out in slightly over an hour. Usually takes about 3 hours for me to write and revise something around 3k. Anything above 5k I usually have to do in multiple sittings, and I'll space it out over two days. My ADHD tends to make marathon writing sessions unhelpful, and I don't think I can maintain quality.

5.) I struggle writing longer pieces, I really do. I've played with shorter pieces for so long, and because I have more familiarity and confidence in those, I would say I prefer it. But I'm really, really trying to write longer things- more flexibility, more room to play with. But oh my fuckin' god, it's really difficult for me. As I push myself more in that direction, though, I can see myself being much happier working with it.

6.) This is a tough one to quantify. It's more clear-cut in fanfiction than it is my original writing. Sometimes it just feels right. Other times you'll nitpick for ages. Eventually, though, the story needs to be finished because...it needs to be finished. There's always more editing and revising you could be doing. Always. If you're unsure, leave it alone for a few days, come back, and read it out loud. If there's a good sense of satisfaction when you finish reading the last line, go for it. Be done and get it out to be shared so others can enjoy it. It's an intuitive thing that will be clearer and easier to decide upon the more you do it.

Don't be scared for your writing class!! Be stoked that you have a new muscle to train and a new hobby to dive into.

Again, sorry this took so long to get answered, and I hope there's something of value in here for you. My ask box is open if there's any follow up or anything else I can (hopefully HELPFULLY) answer.

<3

[anthroparis]

People just dye their hair for fun. It's not symbolic babes.

okay let's start off with the fact that michela is a fictional character. she's not real.

and color symbolism in media is, in fact, important. and it exists everywhere.

when people see a color, there's often a feeling or thought attached to it- fast food companies use red more than any other color because red elicits hunger. people use blue to represent sadness, pink is youthful and romantic, yellow is happy, and so on. this is pretty standard color theory.

people have been using color in abstract ways to represent stories and emotion for thousands of years. just look at the contrast between this rococo era painting by jean-honore fragonard and this impressionist piece by claude monet

both of these pieces are very similar in subject matter: a woman in a long dress, a sunny day, a natural environment. if I described these on paper rather than showing them to you, you'd assume they're fairly similar paintings.

but you can look at these and feel a clear difference between the two. why?

because of the visual elements! the method, the chiaroscuro, the colors, the blocking.

ALL OF THESE THINGS HAVE SYMBOLISM IN THEM. THEIR POINT IS TO ELICIT A REACTION IN THE VIEWER.

lets look at another!

this is the arnolfini portrait by jan van eyck. it's one of the most famous and significant pieces in western art.

you can easily look at this and say "hey look it's two people in a room" but painters, AGAIN, FOR HUNDREDS OF YEARS, have been using symbolism to depict real people. even the green of the dress represents hope, likely to have a child (indicated by the way she's holding her dress up and the dog, which by some arguments may represent lust between the two subjects)

THESE ARE REAL PEOPLE. BY THE WAY. ARTISTS MAKE DELIBERATE CHOICES TO INCLUDE SYMBOLISM IN ARTISTIC MEDIUMS.

anyway, even if it wasn't a deliberate choice on the creators part, there's this awesome thing called "death of the author" which was a french essay that argued that the original intent of the creator becomes null once the work is published, and the audience interpretation is ultimately more important.

so even if it did mean nothing in the writing process, to me it is significant. other people will have different interpretations but it'll be significant, too.

blue is a complicated color. dark blue is regal, calming, but also subdued and depressed. this could mean a lot of things, but looking at it compared to the green, just the fact that it's different, means there's some kind of change happening. even if it's purely physical.

I work in (indie, not big-budget) film and I've always felt the "the curtains are just fucking blue" argument completely defeats the point of analysis.

the reason why English class is core curriculum in schools over here isn't because it's fun silent reading hour, it's to help prepare kids to make choices and understand other perspectives and complicated situations through critical thinking.

when you limit yourself, when you say things like "that's just how it is, it doesn't mean anything" you're not only spitting on the work, you're creating a reality in which you can throw aside hard questions because "that's just how it is" is your answer to other people wanting to understand things. church v. galileo moment.

when you watch a movie, it's easy to just take it all at surface value and not give it a second thought. it's just entertainment, right? it's not supposed to make you feel anything other than pleasantly amused like a court jester!

I've worked on films. I do work on films. every single decision, from the angle of a certain shot to where the actors are standing, is deliberate. and it's so good that you don't even notice it!

in real life, my hair is blue right now. it means nothing except for me liking the color blue.

michela is not fucking real. she does not have the same agency I do to go "oh, I have some dark blue dye left in the bottle, I'll do that this month." because she is not real. she is a character.

for you, I recommend looking up some storyboards from movies, checking out some abstract art (pollock is a good place to start), and watching ralphthemoviemaker's minions review, where he talks about why character design is important.

And none of this even matters anyway because I was making a scott pilgrim joke.

the end