#anyway read this!!! im really proud of it!!!!

[precambrianhottopic]

Fires of the North

CHAPTER 2: THE CANNON

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There were no crows in Fell until the day Harkannon Hull arrived. He came from Thrax, the fourth-greatest and first-most cutthroat city in the world, and arrived in Fell like a creeping thunderstorm. His ship, a gigantic icebreaker named the Gossamer, hauled along the Stoll at a steady pace before grinding to an ominous halt a dozen miles upriver and holding there, for a day and a night, her whale-oil beacons burning like twin suns through the early autumn twilight. The policemen patrolling the high walls stood and watched her, off in the distance, pouring thick smog into the sky, and the people of Fell halted the comings and going and preparations for the winter ahead for just a moment to mourn the death of the old order of things; for, with the coming of the Gossamer, the cold and lonely city was about to be thrust into the fires of painful revolution. Great and dark murders roosted on lamp-posts and fences, their deep croaking voices audible on every street corner. The crew of the icebreaker came in through the gates and sat silent and shivering in taverns, huddled over pints of strong beer as the locals exchanged fraught glances. Harkannon Hull, who had now thoroughly foreshadowed his arrival, stood on the bow of a fine gondola and made his way into the city up the Corione, looming almost seven feet tall and clad entirely in black, a single lantern illuminating his stony features, indifferent to the whispers on the riverbank, like an inevitability- a force of nature.

Harkannon Hull was not known to Hyperborea, but he was already feared. In Thrax, his employees and competitors called him ‘the Cannon’, because the Hull Manufacturing co. was liable to rip through anything that stood in its way with all the mercy and grace of a high-caliber lead round. He’d come from almost nothing- orphaned by parents who would’ve still had nothing to give him if they’d lived, grown up penniless in a dismal backwater of an orphanage, arrived in the big city with only his clothes and a dream- and carved tooth and nail for himself a sizeable niche in Thrax’s ferocious industrial quarter. His factory employed dozens, churned out mid-quality kerosene lamps by the thousands, and earned him enough money to make a terrifyingly grand entrance to the city of Fell.

The boat whispered along the canal, a gondolier at the stern deftly cutting through the low-hanging fog. Its bow lists forward slightly as Hull leans in and tilts his black velvet top hat further over his brow. He is a frighteningly tall, lanky man in his forties, with long, angular features and sunken eyes that shimmered beneath his heavy brow ridge like chunks of obsidian. All along the shore, mothers pull their children indoors and windows are quickly shuttered and then opened just slightly, prying eyes emerging from every crevice to watch this haunting newcomer stand perfectly, chillingly still as his gondolier hitched the vessel to a mooring post and hopped ashore. Harkannon followed, a frigid gust catching his greatcoat as he stepped onto the street and thrashing the dark, heavy fabric about his narrow frame like the wings of a ghastly angel. He stood there for a moment, dark and haunting and utterly alone. Then the gale passed, and with a strange gait not unlike that of a heron with its eyes fixed on a fish Hull at last lurched into movement, steel-toed boots clicking along the cobblestone streets in time with the crows screeching overhead. Street-lamp flames flickered and the sky itself seemed to darken- the shadow from Thrax had arrived.

Already the most-feared man in Fell, Harkannon Hull proceeded onward to the warm lights and rich scents of the November Rain, a tight and jolly tavern nestled on the corner of avenues Brestle and Skaal. Taverns like this one are the very lifeblood of Fell, and indeed all of Hyperborea- many a reckless traveler finds his life saved by the familiar glow of a public house in the middle of a snowstorm. The Rain had found itself overrun in recent days with travelers seeking the oil field- the owners had quite unwittingly found themselves having the role of ‘local guide’ thrust upon them, and their establishment was now swarming with fools from the South drunkenly asking where the mayor’s office was, if there were ‘any beautiful women in this town’, or if they could go out and see the oil tonight, on what they insisted was extremely urgent business. Harkannon was a cut above this rabble; he entered with a sharp, clear purpose beyond inebriation. The doors swung open to welcome him and the entire bar went deadly silent, Hull’s long and pointed shadow sending a chill through the air. He stood in the doorway for a moment, cold air rushing in behind him, drinking in the moment, before shrinking away from the spotlight and letting laughter and light and music return to his rosy-cheeked compatriots.

The barkeep, however, kept his eyes on him. This was Agmund Skjorn, who had kept the November Rain since his grandfather’s day, a portly and weathered man who’d seen just enough winters to know the kind of trouble strangers like Harkannon Hull brought into his tavern. As Hull stalked towards the bar, Agmund kept his wary hands busy polishing a flask, and offered the newcomer a friendly smile.

“What can I do you for, friend?” He gave the standard greeting with monotone pleasure.

Harkannon reached into his coat, produced two silver coins, and set them down on the bar with a clink. “Absinthe.” He gave a furtive glance around the room before proceeding, hushed, “I believe several of my associates came in earlier. Would you be so kind as to let them know Mr. Hull has arrived?” Whatever civility may have been contained in his diction was snuffed out completely by a tone of voice so severe he may as well have been delivering the barkeep’s own death warrant. His voice struck a haunting balance between velvet and gravel.

“I’ll see right to it, sir.” Agmund nods, and disappears off somewhere behind the bar, leaving Harkannon with a small iron tankard of liquor and a ragged cloth napkin. His sharp dark eyes follow the barkeep until he slips out of sight into the tavern’s meager upstairs, at which point they turn patiently to his drink. No matter how colorful and disorderly it claimed to be, the attention of the November Rain is now firmly fixed on this newcomer, who seemed to each drunken patron to carry dark and terrible changes at his heels. A few shivering travelers from the East recognize his face and silently order another round of drinks in resignation- they will be gone, all of them, by daybreak.

By week’s end, Hull and Company had an office- anyone serious about winning the rights to this oil field had an office, clamored the sixty-one remaining businessmen- a serviceable two-room property above a tiny shipping company where Hull himself had a corner office and the Company confined themselves to eight or nine smaller desks out in the larger main room. Gloomy figures were seen coming in and out at all hours of the day, while neighbors and passers-by watched them and went on to taverns and dinners to murmur about grand conspiracies and the end of Fell as we know it. Perhaps the only one of these visitors that the Fell-folk took a liking to, the only one who wasn’t heralded as a sign of the end times- was a young, lithe man with sandy hair and tired eyes- Jack Marshall.

Agmund returns in due course with the promised associates, a grim-looking flock that hovered around Harkannon’s shoulders and whispered half-prophecies in his ears, while their master nodded along stoically all the while. The men were furnished with three rounds of drinks- although Hull himself spent the entire period nursing his single shot of absinthe- before they gathered themselves together to leave, by which point the rumors spreading around the tavern had painted this birdlike stranger and his mysterious accomplices as near-mythological figures. Silently, the brims of their hats tipped over their eyes, the company departed the November Rain and disappeared into the cold September night. They would find room, board, and supper at the North Star Hotel, and it was here, in dark locked rooms, that the plan Harkannon Hull had for the city of Fell was drawn into the light.

Jack Marshall came from an only marginally more favorable background than Harkannon. His mother was dead and his father owned a failing horse farm; together, the pair were about as rich as the horses they raised. It was through luck alone that an associate of the Hull Manufacturing co. came to the Marshall farm to buy a new mount- it was through Jack’s wiles and determination that he found himself as the personal assistant to Harkannon Hull himself three months later. A bright and righteous young man, deeply pious and doggedly loyal, to the people of Fell Jack Marshall might as well have been the only human member of Harkannon Hull’s little operation. He spent most of his time between Harkannon’s side, a squalid inn where he was staying- even if his job was stable, Harkannon paid him abysmally poorly- and the post office, once a week, to send back small increments of money to his father.

And so, the rat-race continued exactly as expected for the next several weeks, the comings and goings from the Hull offices never ceasing, the number of remaining opportunists steadily falling, and the death march onward to Winter as dreadful as ever. It was almost November by the time Jack Marshall went out Northward on horseback with a group of surveyors to see the land before it became too deeply shrouded in snow and ice, and the window was lost until the Spring.

The morning they set out was bitterly cold and startlingly clear; the blinding glare of the sun against the snow against the ashen facades of the city made the whole world into a dream that had become all at once terrifyingly harsh and lucid. It was twelve in the afternoon, and Fell was utterly silent. Marshall, since his rather unfortunate arrival in Hyperborea in nothing but a knit sweater and a pair of overalls, had practically added a new coat to his ensemble every week, and was now bundled up in no less than six layers of wool, down, fur and tweed. Inches-thick snowfall crunches beneath his steel-toed boots as he strode towards the stables at the city walls. Unlike Hull and the rest of his Company, Jack hadn’t sailed up on the Gossamer, claiming that boats made him ill- rather, he’d left well ahead of anyone else and brought three fine horses with him. These horses- Kismet, Gloriana, and Reveller,- now waited impatiently for him, braying and kicking at the frozen ground, flared nostrils spewing dragon-smoke out into the air. Jack smiled, just barely, and picked up his pace. From up on high windows and lavish apartments, Harkannon Hull, his Company, and the forty-eight optimists who remained watched Jack- no, not Jack- the silent attention of Fell was turned entirely to the stranger, clad in bright Southern colors, leaning with effortless intrigue against the stable doors. Jack Marshall, whose eyes had just caught sight of the figure, stopped in his tracks. It struck something akin to fear into his heart, although he wasn’t quite sure why; swallowing it down, he took a wary step forward.

He calls out- “Hello? Hello there!” A friendly greeting. “Can I help you?” A thinly veiled slight.

The interloper smiles imperceptibly and leans forward. “I don’t believe we’ve met, my good sir!” Even at a yell, his voice is delightfully elegant.

“Lazare Doromos. It’s an honor.”

[splankie]

is blowing up a volcano after ur first kiss couple goals

[fandomfloozy]

Classical Conditioning

Pairing: Kento Nanami x clingy!reader

C/W: reader's love language is physical touch, petnames (kento refers to reader as love, sweetheart, darling), sorcerer instructor!reader (students refer to reader as sensei), gn!reader, slightly nsfw, mdni

wc: 6.5k

~°•*~

You're on the way home from a particularly grueling training session with the second years. Your muscles burn, your limbs feel heavy, and you want nothing more than to treat yourself to a sweet dessert and head home.

Home to bed, home to sleep, home to Kento...

You weakly push open the door of the nearest cafe you could find and head in. No sooner does the entry bell chime that the exhaustion of the day dissipates from your aching body. From one moment to the next, you've gone from zombie walk to barely containing your excitement as you spot an unmistakably familiar head of blond hair.

You don't even hear the cashier greet you as you're halfway across the room, your feet moving on their own volition. The closer you get, the wider the stupid grin on your face grows until you've practically jumped your fiancée from behind, wrapping your arms around his neck and pressing your cheek against his.

"Kento!" You're nuzzling into him with your eyes closed, feeling yourself recharge to practically full capacity.

He doesn't seem the least bit startled or surprised to see you as he reaches a hand up to place on your arms. He moves his face away to get a good look at you. "Hi, sweetheart." He rubs his thumb on your forearm. "We were just talking about you."

In your haste, you failed to notice Takuma Ino sitting across from your lover.

You breathe out an awkward chortle, slinking your arms away from Kento and rounding his chair to pull out the one next to him. "All good things, I hope?" You slide a hand down his arm as you take a seat.

"Nothing but, sensei!"

"You're not one of my students, Takuma-kun." You give a semi-exasperated smile as you reach down the table to grab Kento's hand. "I already told you; you don't need to call me that."

Kento glances your way. "We were actually talking about potentially having him shadow you on one of your next missions." He gives a squeeze at your locked hands at the suggestion. "Have you give him a few pointers, show him how you do things."

"Oh!" You look over at Takuma. "I'm not sure what I could teach you that you don't know, you're plenty capable already!"

"But you're a first grade, sensei! I could pick up a lot from watching you work."

"You're pushing first grade yourself!" You argue.

"And you're pushing semi-special grade, darling," Kento chides, coolly sipping at his drink. "Don't sell yourself too short."

You frown. If you sold yourself too short, Kento upsold you too much.

Leaning your head on his shoulder, you let out a hum as you think. "Well..."

You look up and Takuma is giving you the closest thing a young man his age can get to puppy eyes. And it's working.

You fiddle with Kento's fingers. "I trust you're capable enough not to slow me down..." Takuma visibly starts to brighten. "So I suppose it couldn't hurt to have you come on a mission and shadow me--"

"Yes!" Takuma pumps a fist and grabs your free hand to shake in earnest. "I won't slow you down at all, sensei! Promise!"

You giggle as he continues to shake. "There's no doubt in my mind."

Kento chuckles a bit and moves to stand up. "Now that that's squared away, why don't I get you something to eat?"

"Oh! Yes, please." You remember that the sweet treat you came for remains unordered. You lean away to let Kento stand. "You remember my order?"

"You need to ask?" He smiles and starts making his way towards the register. You hold his hand and then his fingers to the last moment as they slip away from you. You then watch him with your chin leaned into your hand and a dopey smile on your face as you watch him tell the cashier your order and pull out his wallet.

"Your two's relationship is so wild to me." Takuma's voice breaks you out of your lovelorn trance. You clear your throat.

"I guess it is atypical," you hum.

Romantic relationships in the jujutsu world, especially between jujutsu sorcerers, are few and far between. Not many sorcerers become old enough or secure enough to explore those kinds of relationships, let alone get to the point of planning to marry. You and Kento are lucky...

"Especially because you two are such an unlikely pair."

You hum in response again, before what he said kicks in. "Wait, what?"

Takuma responds casually while taking bites of his pastry. "Well, you know. Sensei and Nanami-san are so different. Don't get me wrong, he's a great man, but he's kind of a square."

You snort, recalling your jujutsu tech days with Kento. "He's always been a little standoffish. Been that way since we were students."

"It's just crazy. You're so bubbly and nice, and he's so..." He gestures vaguely. "I guess what they say is true: opposites attract."

"Well..." You fidget. "He is a little more reserved than I am, I suppose."

He takes in another fork full of his food. "I don't think I've ever even seen him hold your hand first."

That leaves you speechless.

Was that true? Has he never held your hand without you reaching out to grab his first? You've never thought about it before.

No, surely, it's just in public. Takuma has never seen Kento initiate because you're in public. Kento doesn't mind PDA, but you're just more prone to initiate in a public setting. Surely that's what he means.

Surely.

The weight of the day is suddenly returning to your body all at once.

Kento returns with your order, hand on the back of the chair. "Don't worry about the bill, it's covered." Takuma cheers to himself. Kento turns to face you. "Ready to head home? You look exhausted."

You nod and let out a little, "Mhm." You reach out a hand and Kento helps you up. Huh...

Initiated.

"We're heading out now. I'll see you tomorrow, Ino-kun."

"See you, Nanami-san. Sensei."

You offer a wave and lean into Kento's arm as you walk out of the cafe.

Initiated...

The ride home is quiet. You're on the verge of nodding off in the backseat as the driver takes you and Kento home. He holds onto your treat from the cafe, your craving now forgotten. Your hands are folded in your lap as you try to stay awake.

It's private enough in the car. Surely, he'll at least try to hold your hand...

You want him to hold your hand. Your thigh, your shoulders, your waist... Anything, really. But he could at least hold your hand.

Please, hold my hand...

The car coming to a stop wakes you. Your head lay in Kento's lap as he gently pets your head.

"We've arrived," the driver announces.

"Let's get you to the shower and then you can sleep all you want, alright?" Kento whispers as he tenderly lifts you from his lap and into a sitting position.

Falling asleep on him like that in front of the driver. You really forced his hand there. He had to hold you in his lap. He had no choice.

Initiated.

Arriving home is a bit relieving, though. It didn't get more private than that. More comfortable.

You were showering. He was undressing and going about his nightly routine. It didn't get more intimate than that.

So by the time you stepped out of the shower, water dripping off your form, you expected something--anything--as you creeped up behind him. Dressed in pajama pants and slippers, brushing his teeth in the mirror, he saw your naked form in his peripheral.

He smirked and spat out the toothpaste. "All done, beautiful?"

You nodded meekly, holding your arm behind your back. He turned to face you and you looked at him, alternating between looking at each eye.

Surely, he'd initiate. Nothing was stopping him. You'd initiated all day; it was his turn. Surely...

He reached out to you, and you waited with bated breath...

...as he reached behind you, grabbing the towel to place over your head and dry you off. He smiled softly. "Go put on some pajamas. I'll join you in bed soon."

He then wrapped the towel around your shoulders and turned to finish washing his face. You stood, dumbfounded for a moment, before scuttling to grab clothes to sleep in.

Maybe he just isn't in the mood tonight.

T-shirt.

I mean, you don't have sex every night.

Underwear.

But even when you do... does he initiate? You suddenly can't recall.

Something you do every night, though, is hold each other. That's a given. Cuddling is essential. It's how you get to sleep: relying on Kento's warmth to lull you into a sense of security and comfort.

You rush to the bed and under the covers. You wait.

Kento emerges from the bathroom, turning off lights on the way to you. Your anticipation is almost palpable at this point.

He situates himself in bed, sat up and looking down at you. "Long day, love?"

The top half of your face is peeking out from under the covers as you nod. "Very," you remark with a bit of a whine. "Glad to finally be home with you, Ken." You reach out to him instinctively then think better of it and stop short, your hand flopping on the bed with a thud.

You both look down at it for a beat.

He laughs. "Me too." He picks up your hand from the space between you and presses his lips to it, holding back a chuckle. "Sleep well. We've got an early start tomorrow."

He then drops your hand to turn off the bedside lamp. The darkness somehow makes the room feel significantly colder.

Kento shimmies down into the covers, lays down face-up, and closes his eyes. "Good night, love."

"Night, Ken," you whisper.

You close your eyes as you replay the exchange in your head.

Initiated.

~°•*~

You wake the next morning curled up by Kento's side. Through the course of the night, it seems like you ended up drifting closer to him. Your head is on his chest, your legs tangled up with his.

His form is the same as he fell asleep in. Supine. Completely relaxed.

You sigh. You tried to give him a wide berth last night and still ended up encroaching on his space.

You carefully untangle yourself from him. His alarm hasn't gone off yet and you don't want to wake him. Once out of bed, you pad down the hall and to the kitchen. With the extra time, you decide you might as well get some breakfast ready.

In the silence while you're cooking, however, you can't help the doubts that start creeping up in your mind... You probably make him uncomfortable with your constant need to be touching him in some way, shape, or form. You know physical touch isn't his love language, and yet you pester him constantly anyway, even in public. He didn't so much as touch you last night without you practically begging for him to. He probably only reciprocates out of obligation.

Maybe you should tone it down today.

You hear the rushing stream of water from down the hall as you finish plating the food. Seems like you have time to pack your lunches for the day as well.

As soon as that's done, you pick at your breakfast a bit. The pit of insecurity in your stomach is having adverse effects on your appetite. You sigh heavily to yourself and figure you should at the very least have a coffee.

You prep one for yourself and one for Kento, and as if on cue, he emerges from the bedroom. His hair is glistening from the water and product still drying in it. He's got his dress shirt on with his tie hanging loosely around his neck. He looks absolutely heaven-sent.

"Ooh, thanks for breakfast, love." He smiles as he takes his seat at the table and you hand him his mug. Your fingers brush as he grabs it, and you yank your hand away a little too forcefully. Kento raises a quizzical brow at you. "Careful, I'm sure it's hot." He blows on it a bit before taking a sip.

You hide your hands behind your back to avoid potential slip-ups. You resigned yourself to no touching him unprompted today. You were going to stick to it.

"How did you sleep? I missed you when I woke up this morning."

"Slept fine." You grab your own mug to give your hands something to do. "Just woke up a bit early. Lunch is packed and everything."

"Oh, wow. That's quite proactive of you," he teases. Oh, you wanna kiss him. He digs into his plate and gives a nod to yours. "Aren't you having breakfast?"

You shake your head. He scrunches his brows and his eyes soften. God, you want to rub at the lines between his brows. "I should actually start getting dressed, if anything. I'll go do that now."

You set down your mug on the counter and make a beeline to your bedroom. This is harder than you thought. He's irresistible. How are you meant to make it through the day?

Ugh, but this is for his sake. You don't want to make him uncomfortable. Show restraint, you're an adult.

You get dressed, do your hair, brush your teeth, and take a look at the clock to make sure you're good on time before your driver arrives. Once you're sure you're presentable, you grab your things and start making your way to the front door to put on your shoes.

"Hey, sweetheart--"

You stop in your tracks and look over at Kento, who is standing by the coat rack, jacket in hand and a weird look on his face. His tie is still loose. That's unlike him.

He gives you a crooked smile. "You seem frazzled this morning. I'm sure you're in a rush, but do you mind helping me get my jacket on?"

You hesitate, then you walk over to him. You don't have to touch him while putting on his coat. This is fine. He's asking you to do this anyway. "I've got you, Ken." You take the jacket from his hands, and he turns around to give you full access.

Oh, his back looks so good under his dress shirt. One arm in. It'd be so easy to just run a hand over it and cop a feel... Other arm in. Has he always had such a biteable neck?

You don't get a chance to think about it before it's covered by the collar of his jacket. You clasp your hands together in front of you as he turns around.

"Thank you, darling."

He looks you in the eye and you can't help your gaze from drifting down to his lips. You should kiss him. You want to kiss him. But he isn't leaning in. He's not initiating. You shouldn't. But you can't help gravitating towards him when he looks at you like that with so much love in his eyes and--

You lean in and tighten his tie up to the collar of his shirt.

He looks down in surprise. "Oh! Heh, thank you again." He lets out a chuckle.

You smile. "Anytime." Success. You restrained yourself. That was a close one.

Your phone chimes and you look down. "My driver's here. I'm heading out now." You turn around and put on your shoes at the doorstep. You open the door and spare a glance back at Kento, who is still standing right where you left him. "I'll see you tonight. Have a good day. Love you!"

"Love you, too..." He trails and adjusts his tie with one hand while the other waves a goodbye.

You give him a quick wave back and close the door behind you.

Phew, this shouldn't be that hard.

~°•*~

It's really not.

That hard, that is.

You spent the car ride to the school congratulating yourself on a job well done, coasting off the high of a win. By the time you arrived in the classroom, the whole ordeal took a backseat in your mind. As it stands, Maki, Toge, and Panda are enough of a handful in their own right.

You enter and all of your students seem to be here, sans Yuta. You close the sliding door and smile before walking to the front. "Alright, be seated," you announce as you set your things down. "Pop quiz today, so notes away and pencils out, please."

Your students' audible groans fill the mostly empty room.

"That's too cruel, sensei," Panda whines.

"Mustard leaf."

"Yeah, you didn't even prepare us for this," Maki complains.

The chorus of complaints keep ringing out. You sigh at the lack of order. You're not exactly in the mood with only your morning coffee sitting in your stomach, but you can't exactly blame them when it's so early in the morning and it's the last day of the week. However, that doesn't stop you from taking a deep breath and bringing your hands together in a forceful clap.

The sound reverberates through the floorboards and up the walls. Your students freeze.

The juxtaposition of your gentle smile and the tilt of your head lend to the immediate quiet. "I thought I asked you all very nicely to put your notes away and take a pencil out. I must have imagined the idle chatter, hm?"

They all sit up straight, desks cleared, pencil in hand. "Yes, sensei!"

A handful indeed.

It's what you need today, though. While Kento's off working, you're busy with the second years. There's no temptation this way. Not seeing him for the better part of the day helps. The rapid pace of training and lessons keeps you distracted... for the most part.

That is until, without warning, he's walking onto the training field where you're leading your class through combat drills. He has one Yuuji Itadori in tow, skipping along beside him.

You're kind of geeking, but you try not to let it show. This is Round 2. Second test of the day. You're in public this time. Your students are around. You can hold back.

You greet him with a smile. "You're back early. How did it go?"

Kento rolls the shoulder on his dominant side out. "It went well, all things considered." He looks a bit disheveled.

"It was so cool!" Yuuji cuts in. "Nanamin's cursed technique is always amazing to watch!"

You feel a swell of pride at that. Kento is very talented, you're glad Yuuji gets to learn from him. "How did you do today, Yuu-kun?"

"I think I did really well--"

"His form is still sloppy. He needs to get a better grasp on real-time battle strategy." Now that he's closer to you, you notice Kento's hair seems out of sorts. You want to run your fingers through it and fix it a bit...

"I thought I did a lot better today," Yuuji pouts. He leans his head onto the front of your shoulder and whines lowly so only you can hear. "Nanamin's been kinda mean today, sensei."

You laugh and wrap one arm around Yuuji, using the other to rub at his hair comfortingly. "He really wants you to improve. I'm sure it's nothing personal, Yuu-kun," you coo.

"I'll watch your students for you." You don't get a good look at Kento's face as he is already briskly making his way to where your kids are training.

Now that you mention it, that was a bit snappy. You wonder if something happened to Kento while he was out today.

You hum. You release Yuuji from your hold. "Why don't you tell me more about how today went?"

"Well." Yuuji starts prattling on about how he met with Gojo this morning who then let him know Kento would be instructing him again today, so they headed off to meet him, and Kento had seemed out of it this morning to begin with. Anyway, they went to exorcise some curses, but Kento seemed to be a little more aggressive with them today than usual. He mentioned how Kento had scolded him sternly more than a few times while they were working, but once they finished Kento still seemed unsatisfied and kept grumbling about this and that, stuff Yuuji couldn't make out. "And once we were done, I asked Nanamin if we could eat something and he said okay, but he just wanted to stop by here first to 'Check on the state of the instruction you students are being provided.' Whatever that means."

Huh. You should've guessed Gojo was at the source of this. He was probably pestering Kento into this morning. On top of that, Kento seems to be dissatisfied with how Gojo is teaching the first years and came to analyze the situation.

No wonder he seems a bit touchy.

Oh, Yuuji is still speaking to you.

"Sounds like a lot." You nod along to whatever he started talking about next. "I'm sure you and Kento had a long morning, Yuu-kun. How's about you take him to find Gojo-san and the other first years, okay?" You start guiding Yuuji back across the field to Kento.

It gives you pause to find that your second years are out of breath and hands-on-knees by the time you get back. You couldn't have been talking with Yuuji for more than a few minutes, what happened in that time?

"Really putting them through their paces there, huh, Ken?" You breathe out a laugh nervously. Kento is kind of scary when Gojo gets him riled up.

"They can handle this much," is all Kento offers, standing cross-armed, facing you students.

You pause. Your brows scrunch together in worry. "Okay, guys. Water break! Be back here in five minutes."

Your students let out a sigh of relief as they stagger towards the sidelines for some reprieve. Yuuji trails a safe distance behind you as you round Kento to face him fully. You soften your eyes as you meet his own, shielded from you by his round goggle sunglasses.

"Are you alright?"

The scrunch in his brow relaxes a bit at your scrutiny. "Yes, darling, I'm fine--"

"Are you sure?" You press. You take him in a bit more. His stance is relaxing some more. "Your hair's all fussed," you tease with a snort.

He looks at you. You look at him. You're mirroring his arm-crossed stance. You don't move to fuss over him, especially if it'll just make him more uncomfortable in this state, but you expect him to at least run a hand through his hair himself.

"Are you sure you're alri--"

"Yes, everything's fine. Yuuji, let's head over the first year classroom." He's already leaving before you can protest.

"Aww, but I thought we were going to eat first." Yuuji jogs to catch up with Kento and the two talk back and forth until their chatter becomes too quiet for you to hear.

You're left kind of unnerved by how he left things. Kento isn't one to beat around the bush. He'll usually tell you what's making him upset without mincing his words, especially when it comes to venting about Gojo. This recent transgression must have bothered him something fierce.

"Lover's quarrel?" You hear Maki comment behind you. You turn and realize all of your students have gathered to watch you watch your fiancée and Yuuji walk away.

"Pfft, no. Nothing that dramatic." You wave off their concern, or lack thereof. They're fishing for gossip, and you know it.

"Seemed like something fishy was going on between you twooooo," Panda singsongs.

"Salmon."

"Hey, do you want to waste the last..." You check your watch. "Two minutes of your water break yapping? 'Cause you're going to need it for the next set."

"No, sensei!" They scatter off to finish drinking at their jugs.

"Mhm, that's what I thought," you declare to yourself.

You want to bask in this recent victory. You staved off another round of the grabby hands again, after all. But something about this win just doesn't sit right with you. You don't feel good as long as you know something is eating at Kento this much...

Hopefully he works out whatever he and Gojo have going on.

~°•*~

The rest of the day is a blur. Your students are eager to get a start on their weekend or on missions, so as soon as it's time to dismiss them, they are out the door.

No new assignments were offered to you as the day went on, and thankfully, it seems like there aren't any pressing matters for you to attend to with the higher ups. By all accounts, you're free, so you grab your things and make way out the door and to the campus gates.

You haven't had a proper meal all day, so you start contemplating what you could pick up on your way home. You had enough ingredients to make a big dinner tonight. Maybe a quick snack would be enough to stave off the hunger until then.

As you continue to ponder your options, who do you run into but Satoru Gojo himself.

He spots you before you can think of turning tail to avoid him.

"If it isn't my lovely coworker and counterpart!" He offers a childlike grin and waves as his lithe form approaches you. "How is the beloved second-year sensei today?"

"Just fine," you respond, walking past him without a second glance.

He doesn't miss a beat as he trails behind you and continues chatting. "Aww, c'mon. Give me more than that. I feel like I barely get to see you."

You sigh. "That's on purpose, Gojo-san."

He feigns offense, dramatically pressing a hand to his forehead. "You wound me. We've known each other for years. You can call me senpai when we're not around the students, or at the very least drop the honorifics."

"Would you rather I referred to you as 'hey, you,' or maybe as 'trash-kun'?" You tease. You didn't hate Gojo, per se. You just found him a mite unbearable sometimes.

"'Gojo-san' is fine, then..." He pouts. "You and Nanami are just the same." He brightens as he seems to remember something. "Speaking of! I got to speak to our resident ex-salaryman today! He was telling me all about how you--"

"How he thinks you're slacking on training the first years?" You interrupt.

"What? No! I'll have you know I am doing an amazing job, especially with Megumi and Yuuji. As a matter of fact, they're..."

You tune him out for the rest of the walk to the exit. The thought of Gojo defending himself in the face of a scolding Kento was amusing enough to get you through the rest of the walk out. At the gates, you find your driver waiting for you, the car idling and primed to take you far away from the school and this conversation.

"As much as I love our talks." You turn to look at Gojo with thinly veiled annoyance. "I should be getting home for the day, Gojo-san." Before you can reach for the door yourself, Gojo does it for you. He opens it widely and with a flourish, offering his hand to help you in.

"But of course, sorry to keep you. Get home safe. Get rested. I'm sure next week will be another doozy."

You accept his hand and roll your eyes half-heartedly as he goes on and on. You can't help the small smile on your face as you make your way into the car, though.

As soon as you're securely inside, Gojo peers in and looks you in the eye. "But if I could offer you a bit of advice, my dear kohai." His tone comes across a bit more serious. You attention falls securely on him at that. "I'd go about talking to our friend Nanami over... stimulus control."

Huh?

You give Gojo a look that you hope conveys your confusion, but any note of seriousness in his demeanor leaves him as fast as it came. He grins widely at you and closes the door before you have the chance to question him further. As soon as the door closes, the driver pulls off and Gojo becomes but a shrinking figure in the rear window.

Well, that was cryptic.

What the fuck did he mean "stimulus control"?

You don't think much of it after a while. Gojo is infamously too unserious for his own good. It would be a waste of brain power to read too much into what could very well just be him messing with you, so you don't. What you do continue pondering is what you could do for dinner.

By the time you get home, you've decided on snacking on yesterday's treat while cooking up a suitable feast to make up for missing breakfast. And to congratulate you on a job well done today.

You are in high spirits as you eat and cook at the same time. You could get used to this! Restraining yourself was far easier than you had anticipated. What had seemed like an impossible task this morning didn't seem so bad in hindsight. Maybe every day could be like this...

With no touching Kento at all...

And him not initiating any physical contact with you... at all.

This experience had really put Takuma's observation to the test, hadn't it? Kento really doesn't initiate physical affection with you at all, does he?

Your mood sours a bit.

But you attempt to pull yourself out of it just as quickly. He has other methods of showing he loves you. He shows you he loves you every day. Constant messages checking on how you're doing. Doing the chores whenever you're far too drained. Sitting down to watch your favorite show with you. Bringing back trinkets from missions outside the city that made him think of you. Not to mention that he says he loves you outright every day without fail.

Kento is an intensely loving man, and if you only had to sacrifice a bit of hugging and squeezing for his sake, that was completely fine with you. He just wasn't the type to receive love that way and that's okay.

That's fine.

There's a jingle of keys in the lock of the front door just as you're finishing up the last dish of tonight's spread. You turn off the stove and start transferring to a serving dish as Kento appears in view, dropping his briefcase and shedding his jacket at the front.

"Ken! You're home!" You turn to place the pot and spoon in your hands in the sink. "Dinner's just about ready, just gotta set the table and everything." You reach to grab a towel and wipe your hands as you turn around to face him. "Unless this is a have-dinner-standing-up-at-the-kitchen-island sort of da--"

Kento leaning on the kitchen island with a hand on his hip gives you pause. His head is hanging low as he reaches up to rub at the bridge of his nose.

You crane your neck to look him in the eye. "Long day?"

He sighs. "Like you wouldn't believe." He looks up at you, facing you head-on. An uncomfortable silence fills the space between you. He doesn't elaborate.

You scratch your head. "Well, at least dinner's ready!" You gesture to the courses for the meal. "One less thing to worry about."

"Mhm." He nods. You're not sure with the tinted lenses, but it almost seems like Kento is looking at you... expectantly? You don't know what to say. The silence stretches on. You twist at the towel in your hands.

You tilt your head and press your lips in a thin line. "You seem stressed."

He surprises you by letting out a dry chuckle and turning away. He takes off his goggles and places them on the counter. He runs a hand down his face as he leans on the other.

"Kento..." You approach him cautiously. You're not sure what to do. Usually you'd rub at his back, but you're not sure that's the right thing to do here. "If this is about the Gojo thing--"

"Gojo?" You're taken aback as he stands at full height and throws his hands up. He starts pacing and grumbles to himself, "Of all the things... Had to sit there and talk to Gojo about this, of all the people..."

"Are you alright?"

"Are you alright??" He turns quickly and faces you.

The outburst has you dropping the towel and bumping into the sink. You didn't realize you'd stepped back so far. Kento's right there with you, though. There's nowhere else to go and nothing else to do for him but to press a hand on either side of you, caging you in.

"Have I done something to upset you?" His bare eyes look into yours solemnly, almost pained.

You alternate between looking at both of his eyes for a moment. In your surprise at the seriousness of this exchange, laughter is suddenly bubbling up in your chest and bursts out before you can stop it. "What? Haha!"

Your fit of giggles seems to take Kento aback. He blinks. "Darling, I'm serious."

You try to stifle your laughter with the back of your hand. "Ken, honey, what do you mean?" You shake your head. "You haven't done anything to upset me. What made you think that?"

The warmth of a gentle hand on your cheek shocks you out of the hilarity of the moment.

Initiated.

Kento doesn't give you any choice but to look him in the eye. "I had to pull you in so you'd sleep in my arms last night." He emphasizes his words with a stroke of his thumb on the apple of your cheek. "I woke up without you this morning. You left today without a send-off kiss. God, I stopped by while you worked and didn't even fix my own appearance for the chance that you'd run your hands through my hair." Kento grows progressively more distressed as he speaks. You're speechless. "You haven't so much as brushed a hand against me all day. Have I done something that made you... uncomfortable with me?"

"Oh..." In the blink of an eye, all of the restraint you'd brute force trained into your disposition today is thrown out the window. "Oh, Kento." You reach up to place both hands on either side of his face. "You could never make me feel uncomfortable with you." You reach around his neck and squeeze him into you, rubbing your head into his cheek comfortingly. "The whole reason I pulled back today was because I thought I was making you uncomfortable."

"What?" He pulls away to look at you, placing his hands squarely on your shoulders, not moving them away. "What could possibly make you think that you make me uncomfortable?"

"Well..." You look down at your hands as they fiddle with his tie and dress shirt. "You have to admit the way I'm constantly touching and hugging and kissing you is a bit excessive, no?"

"No, actually. I don't have to admit that because it's not true. Look at me."

You peer at him through your eyelashes.

"Sweetheart, what made you feel this way?"

You glance away.

"Love, look at me."

You do. He's making full eye contact with you. Patiently waiting.

"Someone might have..." You trail off a bit. "Offhandedly pointed out...." Man, this is hard to admit now. "That you never hold my hand first?"

Kento blinks. Then blinks a few more times. "Surely, that's not true. Who told you that?"

"That's beside the point," you blurt. "The important thing is that that's what this whole thing was. Me making an effort to not touch you as much, only if you initiated first. And then it sort of turned out to also be a ploy to see if you'd even initiate at all... Which you didn't..."

Kento looks appalled.

"I just got really in my head about it!" You ramble on. "And then a little insecure. And then I was really just doing this all for your sake because I sort of got it in my head that you didn't like PDA--or physical affection in general--at all, because you never initiate any of it! And then I thought that maybe I was being too much and--"

In your panic, you failed to notice Kento slinking his hands down to your hips, towards the hem of your shirt. The feeling of the pads of his fingers on the bare skin of your stomach makes you jump a bit. "How could you ever think you're too much..." His palms are warm as they join his fingertips. He's moved his head to lean beside yours and speaks lowly into the shell of your ear. His hands start wandering farther up to your bare waist. Unfettered. "When I can't get enough of you?"

You squirm in his grasp. "Kento..." you breathe. You're not used to him taking initiative like this.

"I'm sorry I got so used to receiving your affection without any effort on my part." He glides his nose from your ear down your neck. "I got so used to having your hands on me without trying-" He presses a kiss at your pulse point. You gasp. "That I made a real ass of myself as soon as you took that away." One of his hands moves from your waist to your bare spine. It makes you shiver and arch forward. "I took you for granted and for that I apologize."

Your breathing is picking up. "It's okay, Ken," you say unevenly.

Kento shakes his head. "No, it's not." He pulls back just enough so that he's practically nose to nose with you. "I love you very much. Let me be sorry." He presses his forehead to yours, eyes closed.

You nod against him. "Okay."

"Surely," he continues. "I have to show you just how sorry I am." The sideways smile he gives you carries mischief. Your eyes widen before he leans down. You let out a yelp as he lifts you off the ground and onto the counter.

He sits between your legs, and you hold him by the neck as you try to keep your breath even. "The food'll get cold."

"You'll hear no complaints from me."

You giggle as he leans on one of his hands to smash his lips into yours and uses the other to start loosening his tie.

This is so unlike him, and you can't help thinking that you should deprive him of your touch more often just to illicit this response.

Somehow that reminds you of a certain someone's advice and you end up smiling deeper into the kiss.

"What?" Kento's laugh mixes with yours in the space between you.

You snort at the thought. "I can't believe I Pavlov'd you into expecting hugs and kisses from me."

"Oh, sweetheart." He leans down and gives your neck a playful nip. "You're one bell I'll just about always salivate for."

That makes you snicker and shriek even more as Kento continues trailing kisses down your neck and squeezing and touching wherever his hands can find purchase.

Dork.

For a love language Kento didn't start off with when you met him, physical touch sure seems to be something he can't go without. And that's all your influence.

You guess what they say is true, to be loved is to be changed.

~°•*~

divider via cafekitsune

gif via darkbluepassion01

[jasperyourmutt]

zonked out on the dog bed snoring up a storm. you come over and rub the soft spot on the top of my nose. i let out the most contented sigh

[old-skyguy]

Look.

Ace Attorney fandom.

I know why people don't like Turnabout Bigtop. I am among the people who dislike Turnabout Bigtop.

But I GET why people like the case. I'm not going to be one of those annoying people who just blindly dump on it because I hate those mfs too.

Thing about Bigtop isn't that it sucks. Thing isn't the weird grooming stuff (though that is a huge part of it). It's not that it could've been good.

It's that - in my personal OPINION - it could have been *great*.

I think it had the potential to be one of the best third cases in the trilogy. It had everything; a fun and goofy setting fit for a pretty dang goofy lawyer game - where the environment itself had jokes and quips and one-liners and mishaps and tomfoolery written all over it, it had the previous case introducing a very interesting and important plotline that gave background for one of the more well-loved characters while also introducing an equally fucked up and lovable new one who was a child forced into a shit childhood of naivete in a CIRCUS with another character who was very naive and childish - whose interactions could have been funny and cute and reflective of said shit from the previous case (seriously she becomes such an important character in the 4th case, WHY would they not include her in this one for some character development? How did they fuck up letting a CHILD explore a CIRCUS?? That would have made the interactions flow MUCH better).

They had a pretty good, sympathetic killer imo, a morally dubious victim, an asshole of a client (who was pretty flat admittedly in-game, but I like his weird, topsy-turvy reasoning for it in the anime. Also, I think Max being kinda a dick would have bode well for the themes of Farewell since most of his clients up to this point have been like...nice? Not nice, but sympathetic, but him having to defend someone who's innocent but a prick would have shown him that just because someone is an asshole, doesn't mean they deserve to suffer for it and that they have the potential to grow as people, which is almost a complete foil to what Matt was. Ultimately, I would have loved the contrast of them as clients and I think it would have also served as character development for Phoenix, especially with his low-empathy tendencies).

They just didn't think that far ahead. They just didn't execute it well enough. They just decided to make three of the adult characters fight for the hand in marriage of a teenage girl. (Bat's part of the story was actually kinda good if he was just YOUNGER, I think him doing that for Regina would have been a stupid thing someone in the circus would do to impress their crush. Damn you Ace Attorney and your weird treatment of underage girls!!)

It just flopped and that's ok.

Even though it kinda sucked, it can still mean something to me.

Also I'm a Moe Curls apologist. I liked him, shut up.

[tobisiksi]

I love the adult saiki version of @oceanwithouthermoon where he's basically princess bubblegum but I just had an idea

remember the alternate universe where kusuo died and kusuke started ww3? well, another similar Au but instead of kusuo, the one who dies is kusuke and kusuo its the one who starts the war and bla bla bla

in the canon episode kusuke seems kinda "off"

he doesn't seems like his usual childish self

he looks more serious and centered, similar to his brother's personality (then he changed to his old personality again when the alternate kusuo arrived)

but the thing is that i feel that if the other die, they would switch personalities

even worse If they were the one who killed eachother (its not confirmated the reason of why kusuo died but a lot of people prefer to believe that kusuke killed him and I agree)

so what if in this au kusuke's death changed kusuo's personality to be more like kusuke's?

if you combine kusuo and kusuke's personality you will get something similar to princess bubblegum but even more fucked up so...

I had been writing a fic that it's basically this but the princess bubblegum thing opened my eyes for more ideas, I need to finish that thing aaaa

[agoldengalaxy]

Soldier's Fatigue, Chapter 3

read on Ao3

words: 1312

Crosshair thought about their time as cadets, thinking about how Hunter was always there to offer a band-aid or hug to Wrecker when he needed it, how he gently took care of Tech when he was sick, how he once told Crosshair in the middle of the night that he was there for him if he ever wanted to talk. He closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them. He wasn’t like Hunter at all, but he could try. “What’s on your mind?”

--

Crosshair opened his eyes slowly, early morning haze creeping through his window. He was getting used to this - sleeping in a real bed, in a real house, surrounded by warmth and safety. The nightmares still came, but more often than not, sleeping didn’t feel like as much of a chore anymore.

Lazily, he lifted his arm, looking up at his sleek black prosthetic hand, watching it glint in the misty morning light. It was taking some getting used to, but in a way, he almost preferred it. At least metal didn’t shake.

He dropped it gently on his chest, figuring he could roll over and go back to sleep, but something told him he should get up to enjoy the morning quiet while he could. He sat up, pulling the blanket from his legs, and got to his feet. As he opened the door, he was surprised to already smell the scent of coffee wafting down the hall.

It didn’t take him long to guess who was already awake at this hour, and he let out a near silent sigh as he shuffled toward the kitchen to grab a mug. Once he’d poured himself some, he stepped outside into the dewey air, finding Hunter sitting on the stairs of their porch

“You’re up early,” Crosshair drawled, shutting the door behind him to sit beside him carefully. He wondered if Hunter had even slept at all.

“So are you,” he replied over the rim of his mug. “You’re welcome for the caf, by the way.”

Crosshair scoffed, glancing out at the sea on the horizon. Fog hung over the water, blurring the line between gray sea and sky. The ocean was so calm that they couldn’t even hear it crash, as if time had stopped at this very moment. Not even the fishermen were awake yet, but here sat Crosshair and Hunter.

Bringing the mug to his lips, Crosshair felt grateful for the sense of warmth that traveled down his throat and through his body, a contrast to the cool air around them. He took Hunter in, noting the messy hair and tense posture. He sighed softly, turning to look over at him.

“You don’t look so good,” he said. “Have you been sleeping?”

Now it was Hunter’s turn to scoff, shaking his head as he lifted his mug. “Of course I have. You know I’ve never been able to sleep in.”

Crosshair didn’t believe him, not for a second, but he didn’t push it. He thought about their time as cadets, thinking about how Hunter was always there to offer a band-aid or hug to Wrecker when he needed it, how he gently took care of Tech when he was sick, how he once told Crosshair in the middle of the night that he was there for him if he ever wanted to talk.

He closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them. He wasn’t like Hunter at all, but he could try. “What’s on your mind?”

Some silence followed. Crosshair expected Hunter to brush the question off, but instead, he sighed, running a hand through the knots in his hair. “It changes, day to day. I know I should be happy, but I’m…having a tough time adjusting.”

“That’s obvious.” Crosshair took a sip from his mug, feeling somewhat satisfied with the look of bewilderment on Hunter’s face. “You aren’t as good at hiding it as you think you are.”

Quiet rain began dancing along the pavement and the roof above their heads, but neither one of them made any effort to move. Hunter bit his bottom lip, and Crosshair noticed the way his knuckles whitened as he tightened his grip on his mug. “I can’t stop thinking about Tech,” Hunter admitted softly. “We came up with Plan 99 together, but I never thought…”

“You never thought any of us would have to use it,” Crosshair finished for him, feeling a pit settle into his stomach as Hunter nodded solemnly.

“It doesn’t feel right,” he continued, placing his mug down, gesturing vaguely to the city. “We get to retire here, to live out the rest of our lives peacefully. We didn’t even get to have a proper ceremony for him. How is that fair?”

Crosshair had grown up listening to regs lament this exact problem about their fallen brothers, but they hadn’t really been able to relate before. Now, everything was different. Every time there was a question, he expected Tech to chime in with an answer, but he was never there. Every time there was some new discovered species or a modified ship, he waited to hear fascinated mumbling behind him, but it was always eerily silent. The only thing left of their brother was merely a whispered memory, and Crosshair would regret the time they spent apart more than anything else.

“It isn’t.” He finally answered after what felt like much too long. “It isn’t fair.”

Like an old friend, grief joined the fog and rain, making it difficult to breathe for a second. They both sat in it, wishing Tech were here to tell them that they shouldn’t be drinking so much coffee, that they really should go inside before they got sick.

Instead, Crosshair placed his mug down, leaning his elbows on his knees. “Do you remember what you said to me the night 99 died?” Hunter slowly looked over at him, his eyes almost as cloudy as the horizon over the sea. Crosshair pushed on. “You said it was okay to cry, that crying doesn’t make me any less of a soldier. That it makes us strong, proof that we have hearts.” It sounded strange in his voice, but he still remembered how Hunter had said it all those years ago. “It was true for me, and it is true for you, too, Hunter.”

Perhaps it was a combination of the memory and the words thrown back in his face that made Hunter turn away, squeezing his eyes shut. The one thing Hunter always shouldered was guilt, and in many cases, in Crosshair’s opinion, it wasn’t warranted. He slid a bit closer, their arms almost touching.

“Don’t hide from me,” he said, softer this time. He remembered those nights in his cell on Tantiss, fighting hot tears, resigning himself to die there without ever getting the chance to see his squad again. He remembered sitting on the edge of his bed as a child, eventually letting the dam break while Hunter comforted him. “Be strong.”

Rain pattered on the ground, and Hunter turned his face to the roof above them, perhaps listening to the sound. A tear slipped down his tattooed cheekbone, plopping onto the porch beside him. Another, then another, almost as steady as the rain. He tried to smile, but the second he met Crosshair’s eyes, a sob wracked his chest. Crosshair reached forward, placing Hunter’s head on his shoulder.

They sat there in silence for a long time. Crosshair watched the rain quietly, his hand firmly supporting Hunter’s back while he shook. He could imagine Tech standing nearby, wanting to insist that the tears were not necessary for him, that it would only make Hunter dehydrated. After insisting these things, Tech would come closer, telling him he’d be okay, that despite the odds, they always turned out alright.

Although the rain continued on steadily, Hunter eventually pulled away from Crosshair, wiping his face hastily with the heel of his hand. He still looked rough around the edges, but it almost seemed as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. Crosshair didn’t say anything, and Hunter simply shot him a grateful look as he picked up his mug again.

Crosshair followed, and they continued drinking their lukewarm coffee like nothing had happened. Now, the rain and fog felt like a familiar comfort, wrapping them in an embrace that only brothers could share.

[clowningcrows]

lol i pregamed a tiny bit for agatha but now after finishing im just taking shots for coping reasons

[toustik-blogs]

Tw eyestrain

This is for the draw this in your style by @ricky-tiki-tah ^^

I wanted to do this wayyyy earlier but i was busy with stuff

Hope ya like it ^^

[viral-spirals]

THE MAGNUS PROTOCOL SPOILERS for episode 4!!!!!

can we talk about how similar these feel

[peridots-pixiwolf]

sketches from @mipexch 's whiteboard a couple days ago!!

also feat. a very small reference to @onlineviolence :]

[bedforddanes75]

wips!!! talk to meeeeeeee about them <3333

-b

tbh it was just the one and im gonna rant because I Have Been Prompted x

for whatever mentally ill reason its gatty so apologies but basically its dlid era, and about 20k words of george being In Love and In Denial but hes silly leave him alone:( in those 20k its just RIDICULOUS tho. it is soundtracked to literally anything angsty BUT... also songs and instrumentals by adrianne lenker because that's where i got the title from LMFAO. i also made a pinterest board of it and thats mostly what i wanted to bring up because its so like omg the vibes are so AAA. anyway have...a snippet. so. hoe this is scary how do u do this OKAY dude omg im stressed ALSO Maybe consider this nsfw idk he starts talking shit about matty wanking So um. whatever ALSO sorry tw for homophobic slurs :<

They're fine, stood alone, until someone walks past and shoves Matty with his shoulder, mumbles something about 'What a fag', then looks at him, sniggering. Matty looks down at his hands, fiddling awkwardly.

George glares at the boy, then grabs his shoulder, yanking at him so they're face-to-face.

“Something to say about your boyfriend? Boyfriend who looks like a girl?”

George gives him a hard look, clenching his jaw, balling his fists.

“He’s not my boyfriend. But yeah, I do, actually. Don’t you fucking call him that.”

“Oh, makes sense that you’d say that. Cos you're one too, aren't you? Fucking queer,” he spits, attempting (and failing) to square up, having to tilt his head back an embarrassing amount just to look George in the eye.

The next thing George knows is someone's on the floor in front of him with a bloody nose and his knuckles are pink.

“George, what the fuck!” Ross shouts, suddenly appearing from some door or other.

He can't reply, just stares at the boy on the ground, accepting as people cheer for more and Adam and Ross pull him away.

He's a little unsure of what happens for the next while, all he knows is he doesn't enjoy it, sitting, walking, explaining what happened over and over again, because all he can think of is the look on Matty's face after he spoke. The way he'd looked so hopeless, pulling his hat down further. All he knew in that moment was that he never wanted to see it again.

His mother questions him about what happened as she drives him home, in shock about the fact her (usually quite docile) son had just punched someone. And he tells the truth. He tells her about how sad Matty had looked, how he just wanted to hug him, but something just made him want to hurt the kid.

She believes him, of course, knowing the lengths they’d go for each other, but decides to stay quiet about the fact George got himself almost punched just for the sake of his friend, and what that might mean, especially with their conversation the night prior.

Once they get home, George hides in his room, sitting on his bed and staring at his hands. He can't believe he actually punched someone, the only acts of violence he'd ever shown otherwise were to his friends, playful, nothing genuinely harmful. The sight of that kid on the floor, nose all red and bloodied, made him feel uneasy, knowing he could do that. He knew he was intimidating to most people, with a resting face that looked almost empty, and a stature of six foot something, but he didn’t think he had it in him to give another reason to be scared.

He just can't stop thinking about how happy Matty had seemed before, his smile, those crooked teeth that he loves oh so much, his stupid giggles. The fact he's thinking about his best friend's smile and blushing to himself doesn't fail to make him even more uncomfortable.

George puts his head in his hands, squeezing his eyes shut tightly behind his palms, and lets his shoulders dip down. His mind races with thoughts of Matty, and he feels sick. The thoughts don't stop at just his smile either, and he finds himself thinking about Matty's bare body, thinking about his skinny torso and bony arms, thinking about Matty touching himself, wondering what he would do, what he thought about, who he thought about, whether he'd fuck up into his fist.

He whines, distressed, feeling like a kicked dog, unsure of what to do.

The worst part about it, though, is the fact he's now fully aware of the fact he's getting hard. Over Matty, his best friend, who is also a boy. He wants to cry, he's not gay, so why is he thinking about Matty like that? Especially since Matty is very much a man.

um. anyway. bragging is cool guys show me every wip you have Immediately... also if this sucks then suck my dick and prove it

[partangel]

look what came in the mail 🥺🥺🥺. very small october book haul due to the amount of time its taking me to read what i already have (mainly war and peace, which has been proven to be a very enjoyable but slow journey)

[leviiackrman]

Margot's story has officially come to a close. Read her full bio here!

tag list (ask to be added or removed): @risingsh0t @sstewyhosseini @chuckhansen @statichvm @roofgeese @unholymilf @florbelles @confidentandgood @arklay @captmactavish @shellibisshe @simonxriley @queennymeria @marivenah @nokstella @mrdekarios @thedeadthree @jacobseed @jackiesarch @heroofpenamstan @dameayliins @jillvalentinesday @shadowglens @fenharel @alexxmason @yurgir @malefiicarum

[adamnsey]

new chapter of When The Fog Clears up now and she's a doozy..... cryptic adam parrish fans come get ur dinner......

[ohbo-ohno]

y'know originally i had a big "yay i finished my exchange fic!!" post planned but it's literally an entire week late soo. that feels a little pathetic at this point el oh el

that being said - i finished my exchange fic! i have absolutely no control over when it will be posted, but i'll make sure to put it here when it is!

please please please go follow the deadcoddoves twitter account if you're at all interested in this exchange, they'll be posting about everyone else's fics too!!!