#i was so in awe of the absolute size of this unit i had to buy it for my taco prep

[pierogi-png]

THIS BIG AS FUCK ONION I JUST BOUGHT AT THE EMART

[scaryscarecrows]

Tim is absolutely concerned that a Jokerized Batman is roaming Gotham. He’s a little more concerned that a literal army is invading Gotham. But right now, he’s just. Awkwardly sitting here.

Barbara’s alive, he keeps telling himself. Babs is okay. It’s a great feeling. Not that it’s helping him at all. He’s still stuck here, with nothing to do besides fiddle, for the thousandth time, with his communication unit and exchange steadily more commiserating glances with Harley Quinn.

“Hey, birdie. Wanna play pat-a-cake?” She grins at him, broken, and starts clapping slowly, sometimes putting her hands flat against the glass where he’s supposed to mimic her. “Aw, c’mon, Robin! We’re stuck ‘ere ‘til Bats comes to let us out.”

“He’s not letting you out,” he reminds her. She shrugs.

“Yeah…probably not. Oh, well…I could get used to Mistah J with bigger shoulders.”

Tim shudders. He doesn’t want this conversation. He’ll fix this. Bruce might have to spend some time-a lot of time-locked away, but he’ll fix this. He’s not really showing symptoms, there’s still time, he can—

BAM!

Oh no.

“Secure the area,” someone growls. “Get those doors locked down, fix the voice recognition lock. I don’t want him getting back in here if he gets loose.”

Well. Shit.

“Yessir.”

Tim’s fingers tighten around the little canister in his hand. The Arkham Knight was here before, God knows why, and he…took pity, is Tim’s best guess, tossed him a thing of mace. Held him at gunpoint the whole time, but still. Him-or his men, anyway, Tim hasn’t heard the man himself-being back here can only be bad.

But he’s not going down without a fight.

“Aww, miss me?” Harley calls, leaning against the glass. A second later, one of the soldiers enters the room. “Didn’t yer mama ever tell ya to take yer hat off to a lady?”

He ignores her in favor of nudging Henry’s bloody corpse and calling, “Hey, boss, you want me to move these outta the middle of the floor?”

Presumably the Knight is here, then. But he doesn’t answer.

“He says yeah!” somebody shouts from the elevator.

Okay?

This isn’t weird, not to the guy, because he leans down, grabs Henry’s wrists with a grimace, and starts pulling.

“Hey, Robin,” he says. “You, uh, you need food or anything? You’re not gonna die of dehydration in there, are you?”

No. These cells have the sad ‘healthy’ energy bars Bruce hands over if anyone dares to say, ‘hey, B, I’m hungry, how about Goth-King?’ They also have water bottles.

“You could let me out,” he says flatly. The guy stops mid-drag and fixes him with an exasperated expression.

“How stupid do you think I am.”

“Most thugs in this city are pretty damn dumb.”

“You know what, that’s fair.”

He doesn’t even try to move Albert King. He looks at him, sure, but then he calls over, “Trent! Come move this guy!”

“Chihuahua,” a voice rumbles in amusement. The other man holds up a middle finger.

“You’re just a freak. I’m not moving him when I can make you do it, so c’mere.”

Another man, this one around Albert’s size, enters. He laughs at the first one before leaning down, grabbing the ankles, and pulling the big man’s remains off towards the side.

Others file in, now. A man with some kind of computer and an antennae strapped to his back, a medic, a—

Holy shit.

Tim blinks, hoping he’s having a moment of…of…tired. Stress. Something. He’s not. Jason Todd is still standing not ten feet away. He’s older, obviously, but even without the brand on his face, he’s still recognizable.

It makes sense, in a horrible sort of way. They never found him, not even a…a likely match. The only thing they had was that tape, and Robin’s burned, bloody cape. Sure, Tim wouldn’t have thought he could do something like this–Jason was reckless and impulsive, this seems way too calculated–but he has the motive, and…well…

Oh my God.

Jason’s (??????) holding an ice pack to his throat, and the medic’s hissing at him like an angry goose.

“—talk, I said, keep your mouth shut, I said! You pay me to know this shit! That is my job! You are making it very hard for me to do my job, and so help me, if you make so much as a peep before I clear you—”

They’re just…completely ignoring him. He guesses it’s better than killing him, but. What do they want? What is going on around here?

Jason starts coughing and an older man thumps Medic between the shoulders.

“Good going. You broke him.” Then a gentler, “Maybe siddown, sir. You don’t look so good.”

No. No, he doesn’t. Ice pack aside, scars aside, he’s swaying on his feet and he looks green. He doesn’t fight, either, when the older man guides him to the examination table and gives him a nudge to make him sit down.

“There we go…you good? You’re not gonna pass out or anything?”

Jason shakes his head and adjusts the pack against his throat before flopping onto his back and rasping, “Gimme a minute.”

“No talking!” Medic shouts from across the room. He is ignored.

“Drouot.” First Man-okay, so he has a name now-is there in seconds. “Bring Robin up to speed, I can’t—”

“You got it, boss.”

Tim is so confused. They don’t seem to be here to hurt him, but they’ve been trying to kill Bruce all night, and Jason isn’t as dead as they thought and—

Drouot comes over to stand in front of the glass. He makes no move to let Tim out, but he does seem to be doing his best to look non-threatening. Well. As non-threatening as possible, being armed to the teeth and all.

“You doing okay in there?”

“Spare me the good cop routine.”

“You try to be nice…fine.” He straightens up and clasps his hands behind his back. “Our understanding is that Batman’s ability to fight the effects of the TITAN disease is shaky at best, and we have secured him to prevent him from harming others. Namely us.” He gives Tim a chilly smile and Tim wonders, then, how much these guys know. “Scarecrow’s Cloudburst was probably the catalyst—” What. “—but in hindsight, he’s been, uh. Not okay for most of the night—”

He’s cut off by Harley pounding her fists on the glass and screaming, “He’s takin’ afta my puddin’, and he’s gonna be perfect! You leave him alone, ya big meanie!”

Everybody cringes, and the big guy, Trent, twists around and steps over to her cell.

“Zip it, clown.”

Harley peers around him and lights up like a Christmas tree.

“Baby boy!” Huh-oh. This can’t be good. “Where have you been?”

Jason lifts a hand to flip her off before letting it dangle off the table. Trent smacks his palm against the glass and growls, “I said, zip it.”

“Make me.”

He looks tempted. Instead, he looks down at the keypad, pushes a button, and the soundproof panes slide into place. Harley isn’t happy about this. Drouot rubs his temples and mutters, “Too many freaks in this town…should’ve just blown it up from the sea and picked through the rubble for the bastard’s remains…anyways. I don’t like this situation any more than you do—”

“You took Gotham hostage!”

Drouot’s eye twitches. Behind him, the computer flashes red as somebody types on the keyboard. Harley’s blurry shape continues pounding on the glass. A Riddler trophy glows sickly green in the vents. (That had been wild-a bunch of robots had just…come in, placed the trophies, and left. Except for a few of them that went deeper into the studio and never came back.)

“I was going to let you out to try and stop Scarecrow.”

“He’s your boss.”

There’s a burst of offended chatter. Drouot looks like he wants to bang his head against the nearest wall.

“He’s a client, and that contract has been terminated at our discretion due to. Ah. Creative differences.” There’s laughter behind him. “And also a critical lack of communication, and unnecessary endangerment.” That’s their problem. It’s not like Scarecrow’s ever made an effort to hide his motivations. Well. Unless he has a bigger, more horrible plan to unveil. “And he creeps me out, so I don’t feel too bad.”

Does Tim recognize that as an attempt to convince him that they’re friendly? Yeah. Does he care? Only a little.

“That’s sort of his thing.”

“Really. I had no idea.” He looks at the keypad. “Are you going to leap at me and try to bash my head against the floor if I let you out?”

Honestly, probably not. He could get this one. He could feasibly take one more before the others start shooting, but if they’ve locked down the front door, who knows what else they’ve done. The odds of him getting out of here alive after mounting an attack are slim at best. For now, playing along is his best option.

“No.”

“Want me to open the cell, sir?”

Jason’s sitting up again, slumped forward with his free hand steadying himself against the side of the table. For a minute, Tim thinks he’ll say no-expects him to, even-but he nods, just once, and rasps, “He tries anything, put a bullet through his head.”

Ouch.

“Yessir.”

Drouot taps at the keypad until the door opens and steps back. The computer is no longer flashing red, which is disturbing, given the circumstances. But it’ll alert Barbara, if she hasn’t been already. Who knows what she’ll be able to do, with Bruce…somewhere…, but he’ll take it.

Jason looks at him and Tim…Tim doesn’t know what to say, if anything. How, exactly, do you make amends for…for…everything, basically. All of it. He hadn’t really expected, or wanted, to be Robin. He’d wanted Batman to stop half-murdering people, to help find Robin.

Something tells him that’s not going to go over well with Jason, or his little bodyguards. Uh. Big bodyguards. Minions.

“Thank you,” he finally forces out. Jason shrugs.

“I don’t like this any more than you do.”

That’s not surprising. This is one of the top five most awkward moments of Tim’s life, right after telling Bruce Wayne, ‘you’re Batman’ and having a horrible stare-off for two whole minutes.

“We’re sure he’s not, like, Joker Junior or anything, right?” Drouot says from behind him. Oh, that is it—

“Yeah. I mean, I’m all for bludgeoning him over the head and taking a blood saaaaample—”

“Stop. Talking.”

“—but I think Batman did that already, because his file’s clean.”

Of course Jason’s seen his file. Tim doesn’t think he likes this tidbit of knowledge.

“I’m standing right here.”

“That’s good.” He just said-! “What now, boss?”

Jason eyes Harley’s cell and swallows a few times before saying, “Sweep the whole building. You see any jack-in-the-boxes, shoot them from a distance, they’re explosive. Leave Riddler’s bullshit alone.”

“Yessir. You, uh, you coming with?”

“No. Robin and I are going to have a talk--no. I do not need a babysitter. Get going.”

They go, but none of them look too pleased. When the doors are shut, he stands up and makes his way to the computers to bring up the cameras. Tim wonders what to do.

“I thought about killing you, you know.” Where’s his staff. Bruce took it from him earlier and he would like it back. “Thought maybe I’d send your corpse back to B in a bird cage.”

Well. This is awkward.

“I’m…sorry?”

Jason snorts.

“Been hearing that a lot tonight.” He frowns and taps the intercom button. “There’s a back entrance behind the haunted house set. Seal it off.” Somebody throws a salute at the camera. Jason stumbles back onto the examination table and drops the half-thawed ice pack down next to him. “I’m not telling you where we left him,” he continues. “He’s out of control. He won’t stop laughing.”

Brr. Tim’s grateful, a little, that he’s been spared that sight. Bruce laughs, it’s not that. But his laugh is…warm. Deep and easy to miss if you’re not listening. Something tells him that’s not what was happening.

“What are you doing?”

“You didn’t really think I went into this without having a ‘ruin Scarecrow’s life’ plan.”

“I thought you were friends now.”

“You thought wrong.”

Maybe.

Tim considers trying to knock Jason out; there’s sedatives in that fridge, fast-acting ones. But he doesn’t know where Bruce is, Scarecrow is at large, and he’s not sure about, like allergies. The last thing he wants is to accidentally kill Jason for real this time.

Or for those sedatives to take a little too long, thus giving Jason the opportunity to kill Tim. That’s not good, either.

“Don’t get any ideas, Drake.” Damn. “You’re out of that cell because this is an all-hands-on-deck situation. Try anything, and I will put you down.” The or my men will is very much implied. “Scarecrow has Gordon.”

Somebody always has Gordon. Tim likes the man, but...but...honestly, over the years, he’s been kidnapped more than all three Robins combined.

His face must say as much, because Jason shrugs and says, “I know. Shocker, right? We know where he is, we’re going to handle it. But as much as it pains me to admit it, you can make yourself useful.”

[dakaijukid]

Time for a Toy #2

- Legacy United: Rescue Bots Chase

There are a lot of voyagers I kinda wanted to do more, but I figured it’d be better to discuss a different size class than the last one.

Rescue Bots was very important to my childhood. I might have watched some G1 first, but Rescue Bots was the first Transformers series I really cared about. When I heard they’d be making modern figures of the four main bots I was absolutely ECSTATIC.

It’s a little sad Chase got delegated to Bulkhead repaint duty(don’t have him yet, but once the other two come out I’ll definitely be determined to get all four), but Chase turned out quite nice!

His torso’s a little hollow, but he looks quite nice from most angles! Very accurate to the show, and nice colors all over. (That deep blue+white combo is fantastic)

When it comes to specific compliments, his arms hit two of my favorite TF arm tropes there are. The big, beefy shoulder fronts with the wheel sticking nicely out the back, plus the wide door panels going over the fists.

Doing that shoulder design style usually limits posability a bit(forcing Hot Rod/Triggerhappy shoulders for a clean look), but here they don’t limit much! He does have another shoulder issue though…

It’s not completely awful, but these panels hanging off his back do impact the shoulders a bit. The arms get caught easily, sometimes forcing the shoulders of the torso, and it takes some confusion to really get the arms where you want them. It would’ve been nice if there was another hinge or pin in there to get them out the way, but with how much force needs to applied during transformation, I get why they had to make it a singular thick piece.

Speaking of transformation…

It’s FANTASTIC!!

Many Transformers do this Wheeljack design(hood becomes legs/grill+lights become feet and windshield goes to chest). However, most do it by compressing everything up. Chase on the other hand, actually extends in both directions, before folding back over himself to create the perfectly sized car. While these Transformers are usually pressed for space to fit all of their robot parts(making an accurate G1 Bumblebee is CRAZY), Chase manages to somehow create a partially HOLLOW alt mode!

It’s hard to describe, but the foot transformation is also so incredibly cool and intuitive, and snapping the last panels into place is hard but very satisfying.

What comes out is an incredible alt mode. The car is beefy, satisfying to feel, and incredibly solid(everything holds together, and doesn’t take too much force to snap in).

For accessories, he features this little energy claw which I remember the original toy having, though it’s been too long for me to remember him using it in the show. Each claw can detach from the main base, too. The two light thingies on the side of the car can also detach.

Overall, I really like Legacy Chase, though I wouldn’t call him perfect. There’s definitely a lot of little bugs present, and if you don’t really care about the character, he’s probably skippable. You can only have so many Transformers, and plenty others are good too.

I couldn’t recommend him to all TF fans, but if you like the legacy stylizations and Rescue Bots, he delivers on all hopes.

[neverchecking]

Day 1: Macro- With Fierce Deity

Kicking it off hot~ This one was so fun to write and I'm rather happy with how it turned out!

Smut so Minors Do Not Interact. If I find out a minor has interacted with my blog, I will block you.. Thank you!

Smut CW: Size difference, Fierce being a BIG BOY, there is penetration, but I tried to keep it pretty gender neutral! Let me know if I missed anything or accidently gendered it and I'll fix it!

This is Day one of My Kinktober so be sure to come back and check out the other days! Friendly Reminder that all of my smut is tagged 'Cindersins' including this, but this will also be tagged as 'Cinder's happy halloween' along with the run of the mill smut tags.

Kinktober Masterlist <<< >>> Day 2

“There you go.” His voice rumbled in his chest, low and deep, rolling in dark purrs along your back. 

If there was one thing everyone knew about the deity behind you, it was that he, simply put, was big. An absolute unit of a being. Bringer of wars and harbinger of conflict. More blood than you could fathom had stained his fingers, drowning his soul until it had flickered from the once hopeful light to a fiery inferno of rage and hatred. He had sat upon a throne of bones and skulls, torn from the very enemies he laid to rest. 

Until he had met you.

You were a direct contrast to him. Soft and naive. A being so untainted by the remains of life and the cruel corners of it, you had no choice but to shine. To push back any shadows daring to marr your own soul. To remain as untouchable as you were untouched. To remain cleansed and pure. As if plucked right from the monastery's doorstep. An unwept tear shimmering in the moonlight. 

His precious jewel designed just for him. 

You had awed over every little thing he was capable of. Every tale of gore and horror spun about his capabilities had others regarding him much in the same way he did himself. Like a monster capable of snapping at any given point. But you? You never held any animosity or ill will towards him. No, you remained as open and caring as you always had. Asking in the sweetly unimpeachable tone for him to lean down, only for you to bestow upon him a crown of chain linked daisies and other flowers. Pleading with him to reach a fruit too high for your delicate hands to even brush and thanking him with a press of your lips to his cheeks. Even when crossing bogs and swamps, while you had been hesitant at first, you now happily climbed onto his shoulder, perched there like a little bird while he effortlessly carried you across. 

If you allowed him the privilege he’d be your chariot for as long as you desired. To feel the heat of your skin, with blood coursing through your veins, was something so startlingly beautiful to him. It was a complete contrast to the flash of heat he’d get when slashing through an enemy and their own blood would slick against his cheeks and jaw. Every part of you that made you alive was something he held near and dear. Counting your breaths while you slept and nearly panicking when you missed one or it was delayed by a mere half a second, hearing the pounding of your heart while you went on about what type of butterfly you saw that day or how many deer crossed the paths behind you. Even just the patter of your footsteps beside his, three of yours for every one of his, was such a reliable beat to him. 

Even the pulsing of your walls as you clung to him, whimpering out in either pain or overwhelmed lust as you continued letting your hips fall. He had expressed his worry for you, that he would be too big for someone of your stature, but you had brushed him off, calling him ‘Silly’ for even implying such a thing. He didn’t see the connection, as it wasn’t an attempt at being humorous, but allowed you to think that way. 

You had explained that it was all about muscle work. About relaxing them and stretching them, making them used to the intrusion before it happened. It just so happened that he had the fingers necessary to do it. You had taken three, which had pumped in and out of your twitchy little hole with great difficulty at first, before they were soon sliding in and out easily. Then you had become impatient, pushing his hand out and instead moving to straddle him. His cock bounced against your ass as you gently cupped his cheek. With your free hand you moved the head of his cock to prod against you, locking his lips with your own as you moved to sit down. It was a struggle with the same muscles that were so accommodating before now clenching, refusing him entry as you tried so desperately to force them to relax. When that didn’t work, he let the first praises slip past his tongue, which was so suddenly weak willed when pitted against your fiery determination.  

To his surprise it had worked. Inch by inch disappeared into you before you were sitting on his lap, panting in heavy breaths as you leaned into him. He rubbed your back with a heavy hand. 

“Guess you were right. It did fit.” 

[brockgold]

The Golden Key: Unlocking Evan’s Destiny Part 1

The Invitation and Training A Collaboration between @brockgold and @stefan-gold80

The day of the open training arrived, a golden opportunity to bring new talent into the team and showcase the brilliance of the Golden Army. The field was immaculate, the air buzzing with energy, and Stefan Gold (#80, Defender) and I were ready. Together, we set the stage for what would be an unforgettable experience.

"All set, Stefan?" I asked as we finalized the drills. From agility courses to precision-passing exercises, the session was designed to challenge and inspire. Around us, PDU units efficiently prepared the training space, their sleek black rubber uniforms glinting under the sun. The golden bros were already in motion, leading by example as they warmed up and demonstrated perfect technique. Stefan nodded, adjusting his gleaming golden kit. "Let’s show them what the Golden Army is all about, Brock."

As locals began to arrive, curiosity lit up their faces. They had heard whispers about the discipline, coordination, and undeniable allure of the Golden Army, but now they were about to experience it firsthand. Guys of all shapes, sizes, and skill levels gathered, their interest growing as they watched us perform synchronized drills, our golden kits shining like beacons.

Stefan and I kicked things off with an introduction, outlining the purpose of the session. “Today, you’ll train like we train. You’ll push your limits and see what it takes to be part of something extraordinary,” I said, my voice steady with conviction.

The drills began, and Stefan and I took turns leading groups, pushing them to improve with each repetition. Some struggled at first, but others started to catch on, fueled by the energy and camaraderie on display. Among them, one individual stood out—Evan Marks.

Evan wasn’t the fastest or the strongest, but there was something about him. His determination was palpable as he sprinted through the agility course, his focus unwavering as he executed precise passes during the drills. He absorbed every piece of advice Stefan and I offered, adjusting his movements and improving with each round.

Between guiding the groups, Stefan leaned over to me and said, “That guy—Evan. He’s got the spark. You see it too, right?” I nodded. “Absolutely. Let’s keep an eye on him.”

As the session continued, the golden bros joined in, demonstrating the standard of excellence we expected. They worked seamlessly with the trainees, encouraging them and showing what true teamwork looked like. Even the PDU units contributed by maintaining order and ensuring the session flowed perfectly.

Finally, we gathered everyone together. Stefan and I exchanged a look, and I stepped forward. “Evan Marks, step up.”

Evan’s eyes widened as he approached, sweat dripping from his brow but his posture firm. “Yes, sir?”

“You’ve shown something special today,” Stefan said, his voice filled with approval. “Dedication. Focus. Potential. Qualities we look for in the Golden Army.”

I held up a gleaming golden kit, the sunlight catching on its mirror-like surface. “This is for you, Evan. Your journey begins now.”

Evan accepted the kit, his hands trembling slightly as he looked at it in awe. Around us, the other trainees clapped, their admiration evident. Stefan and I exchanged a satisfied nod—this was what the Golden Army was all about: recognizing potential and transforming it into greatness. As Evan held the golden kit against his chest, I knew this was only the beginning. His story, like so many others, would unfold under the bright, shining light of gold. And Stefan and I were ready to guide him every step of the way.

Do you have what it takes to join the ranks of greatness? The path isn’t easy, but the reward is undeniable—discipline, unity, and the brilliance of gold. Ready to join the Team? All you need to do is contact our recruiters: @brodygold @goldenherc9 @polo-drone-001

Part 2 here https://www.tumblr.com/stefan-gold80/773035344183558144/the-golden-key-evans-destiny-unlocked-part-2?source=share

[postilionstruckbylightning]

I’ve been helping co-produce a show for the Adelaide Fringe and the last one is tonight. It has been absolutely exhausting. Production is so much harder than performance and is so many more things than I thought it was, and that’s with me doing so much less of the work than the show creator. I don’t know how other artists do this solo, every year, most of them for little to no profit.

And yet … the shows have all been so good. I’ve met and worked with so many talented artists. We won an award. The crowds have been lovely, and mostly decent sizes. I’ve done a bunch of things for the first time, including hosting a live Fringe event. Other artists, people I admire and respect and am slightly in awe of, have told me they’ve heard good things about our show. And last night, at the artists only bar, I had a moment where I realised I was surrounded by people who were all united by their passion for creating things and sharing ideas and being their weird, authentic selves.

I won’t remember the stress or the rush to write emails or the exhaustion in a year or two. But I’ll remember nights like that.

[catenary-chad]

I need to stop putting off that Greaseball history post because it goes into why “coach sexism” is actually a very relevant and interesting dynamic with him. In contrast to how painfully stupid (steam oppression) or just kind of incorrect (freight being poor, that’s a well-paid blue collar job) other clumsy attempts at social metaphors are.

the super basic gist is that passenger trains turned into an absolute money sink post-WWII. Leading railroads to do what they could to ditch the business where not legally required. They have some weird “I hate my wife” coding like “keeping freight trains in line schedule-wise because they HAVE to be on time”, “spending money on frivolous things”, and “I HATE you and want to get rid of you but I’m socially obligated not to”. EMD E-units are one of the more popular engine prototypes for Greaseball and were very much passenger oriented designs with how they were very smooth and fast but not terribly strong (and even increasing horsepower would have just made them spin their wheels due to how those were designed). He’s the “face” of a railroad that gleefully dumped passenger service when it could and has been historically hostile towards Amtrak, even more so than many of the other railroads its size (they all suck tbh). So basically the embodiment of someone who is built to do something he hates and wants to ditch at all costs, but actually can’t live without. Which is why he specifically would be so NASTY to coaches.

(I think most other engines are a lot more ambivalent or at least can more respectfully go “yeah we aren’t a good fit” since they have a little more versatility design-wise. E-units weren’t useless for non-passenger work, but they had a lot less utility than other diesel engines of the era)

passenger vs freight prioritizing is a surprisingly worldwide train issue that presents itself differently between countries and is super interesting though. It has a ton of potential I just roll my eyes at how canon does a lot of it. A lot of the dynamics it tries have potential to be interesting in train media but I reject them as given for being wrong and go full revisionist and rewrite them based on actual train politics. Which is ironically why I reject Electra being a shitty boss because everything they’re associated with (France, Amtrak) is actually notoriously good vs other railroads. Greaseball could be satan incarnate if desired though. UP was unironically voted “worst place to work” several times and there’s just sooo many directions to go to make him awful and that’s what makes him timeless and great.

[sevenstevearmy]

It's definitely some of both. I know they teach PEMDAS more than people remember it for example. But I also know that the high school I went to was in a different district than where I went to previous grades and the difference in curriculum was massive. Our high school got a lot of kids from different districts bc of all the programs it had and there were some things that were the same (mostly propaganda) but a lot of it was different, and everyone who was originally in that district had a vastly different understanding of most topics if their previous grades had a addressed them at all. Part of it was I lived in a rich white people town with lots of funding so the teachers were able to care and take their time but the high school I went to was inner city with a budget of two paperclips and a broken pencil and the teachers wanted to do more but it was significantly harder for them. Up until high school I was also in smaller class sizes and the teachers frequently went off curriculum and a lot more different classes were offered than to the kids just one district over. And even then both of those districts are very left leaning but a lot of the stuff people say I should have learned in school I absolutely didn't.

In college I made friends from all over the country and every single person had a different experience with what curriculum was taught in school and even within the same districts I know they change things every so often bc my oldest sibling is 9 years older than me and my youngest is two years younger and there's three of us in between there. And I can guarantee anyone in accelerated or deccelerated programs are learning different things from each other too. I was in special advanced programs for my whole schooling career and my younger brother was in several remedial classes. If they think you're incapable of learning they don't teach you shit and if they think you're smart they think you already know a ton of stuff and don't teach you, at least in my experience. Of course we were both undiagnosed for adhd and autism at the time so... yk.

I thought I wrote something in this post about it but I can't find it so I'll loop back around to the example you gave: American colonialism.

We had a small I think three day unit I remember bc one of the people on my group put on a super offensive racist accent and refused to pronounce the names of peoples correctly. We didn't talk about companies, but we did talk about why it was actually so cool that we colonized Hawaii and were horrible and awful but no don't worry bc now it's a state and that totally makes up for it (sarcasm). We were not taught about anywhere becoming independent from the US. I didn't know that about the Philippines, actually.

And to be clear I am super trustful of my memory of history classes bc while I struggle to remember specific dates, I absorb the stories like nobody's business and for a long time history was one of my special interests. I can pretty much tell you if something specific was taught in any of the classes I took across all subjects.

However I do agree that there is a lot of people just not caring bc there were times I would go to class and one period later I would bring something up from that class and some people would have no clue what I was talking about despite the fact that they were literally two seats away from me. (I have a vivid example of this as well and I remember bc she was wearing a striped shirt. The way my memory functions is so bizarre.)

The amount of times I’ve heard someone ask “Why don’t we learn about this in school” about something I learned in school. It just goes to show either how different everyone’s school experiences are or how much we don’t pay attention in school. Possibly both.

[hi-i-love-u-bitch]

Feral AU

A Rottmnt AU where everything is the same except the turtle boys turn out a little more animalistic then usual because Draxum wanted warriors not children. They’re a bit more reminiscent of the turtle species they once were; adding in sharper teeth and claws, and a much more limited range of speech.

Like Splinter is still able to save them and raise them in the sewers and they’re still much more intelligent than an average turtle but they heavily rely more on instinct. Splinter tried teaching them to talk and they can a little but their main form of communication is a series of chirps, clicks, and growls. Which is fine, the most important part is that they UNDERSTAND and are aware of what Splinter is saying. He had a better time teaching them sign language as they seem to better excel in things involving physical movement and motor skills.

SPEAKING OF WHICH!! They are able to learn and pick up Ninjutsu much faster than average and were able to access their Ninpo at an early age. It should be noted that Splinter did NOT teach them Ninjutsu as a means to train them in the ways of the Hamoto clan life mission but as a way to expel all the restless energy those boys had. Draxum had designed them to be warriors so they can’t be idle for too long or they’ll get bored and wreck the den. Splinter needed something physical enough to tire them out as well as something to focus on instead of just mindless destruction.

They are proficient in BOTH hand to hand combat and combat with their weapons.

The boys themselves behave a lot more animalistic, though they still keep some of their distinct personalities:

Raphael

He is an ABSOLUTE UNIT of a boy! You thought he was big before but now he’s an absolute MONSTER of a guy reaching at about 9ft by the time he’s 16yrs! And he’s still growing!

Communicates mainly in growls and deep rumbling churrs, sounds like a fucking motor enginee.

Obviously since he’s the biggest he is the self appointed guardian of the family and he takes his job VERY seriously! Super over protective! Nobody will ever hurt his family on his watch!

He is still very sweet though and a total cuddle bug! Basically the mind set of those HUGE dogs that think they’re a lap dog. Kind of sort of behaves like one as well not gunna lie. His favorite place to nap is atop Splinter’s lap but poor boy is too big so only his head can rest comfortably. Which is fine, Papa still coos and awes at him anyways, always making sure to give him some nice scratchies under his chin.

The best way to know what he’s feeling is to look at his tail, a large scaley, spiky thing that wags when he’s happy!

Still has his stuffed animal collection and enjoys being surrounded by warm soft things. He’s still a little rough when playing with his toys so most often than not they have to be patched up or fixed. He doesn't have as delicate a touch as Mikey does to be able to sew his own things back together so he usually asks Splinter to do it. He has been trying to learn knitting though, it’s a bit slow going due to his massive hands trying to hold regular size knitting needles but he’s getting the hang of it.

Despite that he is very self aware of how big he is and always makes sure to be extra careful when roughhousing with his brothers, especially Donnie.

If any of his brothers get too rowdy and wander off where they’re not supposed to he’ll pick them up like a mama cat with her kittens by the lids of their shells.

He is not above biting people when in a fight, and trust me when I say you do NOT want to be anywhere near those chompers. But he also gives affectionate little nips when playing with others.

The back of his shell is THE best spot to lie atop of when sunbathing! All his brothers plus Splinter can nap atop his shell comfortably and he quite enjoys the comfortable weight they provide as he sleeps.

Not adverse to wearing clothes but then again not a lot can fit his enormous frame and when it does it gets torn up fairly quickly by how rough and clumsy he is. He absolutely loves to wear ribbons though and has an extensive collection of them he keeps in a shoe box. They’re a bit dirty as he’s found them all in the sewers but still quite colorful and pretty. He let’s Mikey and Splinter tie them around his wrists, tail, and neck in cute bows.

As an alligator snapping turtle he is mainly carnivorous but he’ll eat mostly anything really. His favorite being, ironically, fresh fruit especially watermelon.

Still absolutely HATES Miss. Cuddles!

Donatello

The second largest of the group though that’s mainly by height then by build, almost 7ft tall. Long and slender with a thin whip-like tail he can use similar to Splinter when fighting.

Second most protective next to Raph but definitely much more ruthless. If you are not part of his immediate family/clan he could care less of what happens to you.

Also not above biting people, especially his brothers. Though he definatlly has the weakest bite force when compared to the rest of his brothers it still hurts like a mother fucker.

A Lot more cat-like in nature compared to Raph. The key to Donnie's mood is in his body language, seemingly ever calculated and graceful, and in his eyes. All the turtles have slit-like pupils that can narrow and expand depending on their environment but Donnie's seem to function a lot more with his emotions as well.

He’s definitely still the smartest amongst his brothers, ever curious about the world around him and is the only one Splinter was able to teach how to read successfully. Though quite like Raph, Donnie prefers to communicate through clicks and chirps, though he’s more fluent in ASL then the rest of his siblings.

He’s still quite a talented engineer though his inventions tend to look quite rough as they are mainly scraped together using whatever junk he finds laying around. He isn’t all that bothered by how things look so long as they work how they’re supposed to.

Unfortunately, safety in science is not his first priority which has led to quite a lot of injury. Burns scars form electricity and harsh chemicals as well as cuts from shap tools and raw metal edges. Splinter had to practically force him into wearing at least gloves and goggles while he worked by threatening to take away his tool box.

He hissed and growled and snapped at Splinter for a full week and a half but eventually caved.

(Still just as stubborn and hardheaded)

His favorite thing to make is bombs because we all know that every iteration of Donnie ever is a pyromaniac.

Donnie does have a battle shell (made out of scrap metal and memory foam to cushion the inside) but he rarely ever wears it, unless absolutely necessary. Splinter has always been wary of Donnie and his most vulnerable area but aside from keeping his middle child constantly wrapped in bubble wrap the only other thing Splinter could think to do was teach Donnie how to defend himself as a regular human would.

Though they aren’t completely cold blooded Donnie HATES being cold and is usually wearing either large hoodies or sweaters. But he absolutely despises pants!

He still loves to dance! Especially to groovy 80s jams and electro pop!

He’ll eat about almost anything you put in front of him though he seems to enjoy more soft and mushy foods as well as any kind of seafood.

Still terrified of beach balls.

Leonardo

He’s a little more normal in height though that still leaves him at 6ft and growing. A stockier built around the shoulders with long sturdy legs that can deal pretty powerful blows.

His tail is pretty thin, almost boney in texture, flat too, and only about 10in long. It moves a lot like Raph’s tail does, wags when happy, tucked between when scared, and droopy when tired.

He talks the most out of all his brothers though it's quite choppy and sounds a lot more like warbling chirps then words. His “turtle speak” involves a lot more clicks and high pitched chirps, almost sounding quite bird like.

He and Raph are neck in neck when it comes to their skills in ninjutsu, though Raph excels more in defense while Leo is obviously more offensive.

He’s not much of a biter but he will claw a mother fucker’s eyes out if need be.

Though he is a lot more easily distracted and can be quite lazy at times, preferring much more to play than train. Splinter has to constantly find ways to keep Leo focused on the task at hand which usually involves turning things into puzzle games.

Donatello may be the smartest among them but Leo is a scarily good stradagest when given proper motivation.

Definitely still the most confident and charismatic. He’s always the leader of things whenever mischief is afoot. That usually involves reckless stunts Leo wants to try out after seeing it on tv or during one of their many Lou Jitsu marathons.

His ability to create portals does not help Splinter in his endeavor to stop Leo’s trouble making.

He and Donnie spend the most time in water, to the point where Splinter had to build a large shallow pool in the middle of the lair for the boys to soak in. It isn’t a bad thing if they’re dry but if they so happend to get sick it’s best to keep them in water to help them heal faster.

He has slept in the pool before and it scared the shit out of Splinter the first few times it happened because he thought Leo had drowned.

Is the most adversed to wearing clothes, it restricts him too much and he doesn’t like that. The only “clothing” he tolerates are the straps for his weapons and a blue cloth he uses as a bandana for his head. He’s okay with certain hats and neckerchiefs so long as they don’t get in the way.

Again, will eat literally anything though he likes a lot of water based veggies or anything with a good crunch to it.

Not a lot seems to frighten Leo though Splinter isn’t sure if that’s due to bravery or naivety on Leo’s part. That boy seems to not have any self preservation skills what so ever.

Michelangelo

The smallest amongst his brothers though that’s mainly due to him being the runt of the clutch he originally hatched from. Has more of a lean and limber build which makes him a great climber and the fastest out of all of them.

Has the sharpest claws of the group, which really help out a lot with the whole climbing aspect. Mikey is always atop of something, swinging down from seemingly out of nowhere. His favorite perch however is atop of his brothers’ is shoulders, especially Raph since he’s the biggest.

You’d think with the claws he’d be more prone to scratching but that is not entirely true. Either way once he latches on there is very little you can do to get him off unless he wants to.

The cutest little stubby tail you’ve ever seen! It wags like a little bunny rabbit!

He and Leo are the most hyper and energetic of the four, with Raph and Donnie being a bit more low energy. If they don’t have something to focus on they’ll cause all kinds of mayhem, running around all over the lair causing chaos and destruction.

He’s just as fluent in ASL as Donnie is and also just as talkative as Leo is, though still choppy due to limited range in vocal cords. His chirps and clicks in “turtle speak” sound a lot more monkey like though less high pitched “ooo’s” and more tenor based trills.

Definitely the most empathetic amongst his brothers when it comes to outsiders. He’s still weary, don’t get him wrong, but he’s a lot more curious. Even in this universe Mikey still very much wants to make friends!

Still the very creative; loves to draw and paint, and is very messy about it. His favorite place to paint is on his brothers’ shells! They don’t mind of course and they really do enjoy how colorful and bright Mikey decorates them. (Always make sure to use washable, hypoallergenic paints kids!)

Mikey LOVE clothing! He thinks it's so fun to dress up and will sometimes even make his own clothes out of cloth scraps that he finds. Has delicate enough motor skills that Splinter was able to teach him how to crudely sew and stitch things together.

Is the most picky eater out of all of them, though that happened after he learned how to cook. Once he figured out that food could actually taste GOOD when you put effort into it he could never go back to just eating whatever. This was both a blessing and curse with Splinter because on one hand they couldn’t exactly be picky about what they ate with their circumstances. But on the other hand they had a lot more variety and nutrition when Mikey was in charge of cooking.

Before meeting April and her mom (more on them later) as they could not exactly go out shoping for beef and chicken, a lot of the turtles’ protein came from bugs. And as picky an eater Mikey is now he still actually prefers eating bugs over regular meat. His favorites are grasshoppers and earthworms.

He is afraid of the dark and does not like sleeping alone.

Splinter/Lou Jitsu/Hamato Yoshi

Splinter has obviously gone through the most change out of everyone, going from human to mutant rat overnight is definitely not good for your mental health. To physically lose your humanity is one thing but psychologically as well is just a whole other can of worms.

He’s still himself, mentally and personality wise, but sometimes he gets these “episodes”. They usually happen when he’s under stress or backed into a corner (both physically or emotionally). He’ll revert into a more animalistic and primative mental state, somewhat like his boys if a little more “savage”. He’s hostile and aggressive, he can’t talk or even properly communicate at all, possibly not even understanding how to do so. Thankfully he’s never hurt his boys in that state, as even then he still sees them as his children who he must protect.

Has a chunk missing from his left ear courtesy of Raph from when he was a baby and teething. He has a lot of bits and scratch marks from his kids, mainly from rough housing and temper tantrums.

If he had the funding he would absolutely spoil these boys rotten, though as it is the boys aren’t very materialistic and hardly even understand the concept of money.

He’s kept every single gift his sons have made for him. EVERY. SINGLE. ONE.

Out of all of his boys Donnie is the clingiest, even as a teen. Splinter doesn’t mind though he insists that one day Donnie will grow out of it eventually. (He won’t, he’s a complete daddy’s boy!)

Though all the turtles are bipedal, more often than not they’ll be running around on all fours, which is fine, whatever makes them comfortable. What Splinter does mind though is that he’ll catch himself doing the same thing, like if his body is unconsciously mirroring what is “natural” to him. He doesn’t like to think about the implications of what that means.

As a rat, Splinter has a lot anxiety and awareness of his surroundings do to his heightened senses. Perhaps its from the fact that he is naturally considered prey in the food chain of the animal kingdom. Either way, sometimes he’ll have really bad days of extreme anxiety. He’ll feel like he’s in danger and needs to hide himself and his boys someplace safe. They cannot leave the lair at all during those days and the boys need to stay within Splinter’s line of sight at all times or he will absolutly freak the fuck out.

He lives in constant perpetual fear that either Draxum is still alive (Spoiler: he is) and looking for them or that Big Mama will discover them and force them to fight in the Battle Nexus.

Splinter is face blind. He already had ATROCIOUS eyesight when he was a human, it got even worse when he became a rat. Which is why he color codes the boys cuz if not they’d all just be green blobs. This is also an excuse for cutesy nicknames!

Leo: Baby blue, Little blue moon, My tiny Blueberry boy, Blue Jay/Blue bird

Raph: Little Robin, Rose bud, Big Red, My precious little flame

Donnie: Little violet, My brilliant amethyst, Tiny storm cloud, Sweet plum

Mikey: Sunshine, My shining star, Baby tangerine, Little goldfish

All: My Precious Treasures, My beautiful boys, Little ones

[[Let me know if you guys wanna know more about this AU]]

[[To be Continued….]]

[adhdo5]

Okay ykw I’m making a post. Very sorry about this because a) the adhdo5 blog is where I sit on the porch and shoot the shit and you shouldn’t come to me for news and b) I am very tired right now and can’t think very well so you’ll have to bear with me. I am NOT editing this shit so if it has typos or I sound incoherent very sorry again maybe you can like decipher it with your comrades or w/e

Long post; tl;dr at bottom

So I’ve seen posts going around about the Ohio train derailment. This is good and fine in itself. This is a serious issue that should be discussed and absolutely an environmental disaster, BUT there r some serious framing issues going on and while there’s other posts that discuss this better than I can or am interested in doing, I’d like to address one specific thing as kind of a microcosm/example

So there’s a version of the post going around where a commenter links some articles and pulls relevant quotes from them. Most seriously they pull this quote

While vinyl chloride itself is a carcinogen, the burning of the chemical, which releases hydrogen chloride and phosgene, can be immediately lethal. Phosgene, a highly toxic, colorless gas with a strong odor, was notoriously used as a weapon during World War I. 

Now, that’s a scary fucking quote. That shit is frightening and it is a true assessment of the risk of vinyl chloride leaks. Put it in context of the earlier post, which is going on about a supposed media blackout and claims of mass death of pets etc., and claims that police blew up the tanks, and it evokes a truly terrifying image of these tanks being detonated carelessly and possibly leading to deaths.

But try on for size the literal first sentence of this article: (emphasis added)

The toxins that burned in the wreckage of the train derailment in Ohio had the potential to be deadly if officials did not order evacuations in the region, experts told ABC News.

And from an article from CNN: (emphasis added)

The wreckage burned for days, threatening a widespread, deadly explosion before crews Monday managed controlled detonations [...]

Workers used small charges to blow a tiny hole in five rail cars carrying vinyl chloride. The hazardous substance spilled into a trench, where it was burned away. [...]

Analysts have been conducting air monitoring and sampling over the last 24 hours in the East Palestine area, James Justice, a representative of the United States Environmental Protection Agency said Wednesday. "All of the readings we've been recording in the community have been at normal concentrations, normal backgrounds, which you find in almost any community," he said, and that's "what led to the fire chief lifting the evacuations today."

And a few paragraphs down in the very article the first quote is from:

A release from a vinyl chloride tank car creates a dangerous situation. The chemical, which is a gas at ambient temperature, is shipped in pressurized tank cars. “If you have a release, it vaporizes and it’s extremely flammable,” Kreuz says.

This is a completely different picture. Don’t get me wrong -- shit is still awful. It’s a dangerous situation that DID kill some beasts this IS a bad thing this IS a policy failure that it happened

But the tanks were detonated by professionals so that the fumes would be concentrated in one area that they could give evac orders for, and those evac orders have since been lifted because said controlled burn went off as planned. If they’d let it escape or explode by itself, the phosphene etc would likely still have been released, but in a way that would be way harder to Give Evac Orders For

Officials etc can still suck and be bad. It’s not like this is over or a solved issue. But this was not the cops. This was the EPA. This was people whose job is to deal with environmental catastrophes (which AGAIN this WAS). There are people who are trying to get third party tests done! Fair enough! But this is NOT something that people are left completely alone with 

So what IS an issue here specifically? Where do we point scrutiny?

This is my biggest issue with that first quote pull; the text block immediately after it is possibly the most widely relevant thing in the article. Here’s a slightly longer quote: (emphasis added)

While vinyl chloride itself is a carcinogen, the burning of the chemical, which releases hydrogen chloride and phosgene, can be immediately lethal. Phosgene, a highly toxic, colorless gas with a strong odor, was notoriously used as a weapon during World War I.

The accident raises questions about safe rail transportation of vinyl chloride, a chemical that is predominantly converted to polyvinyl chloride on the site where it is produced. It also shines a light on general rail safety—the accident was the third freight train derailment in Ohio since last October.

I mean, in hindsight it’s clear -- this was a rail accident. But losing oneself in panic about the chemical spill itself being not dealt with or dealt with worse can cause one to lose focus. I know I certainly did until I looked .2mm further into the situation and found that paragraph, and then the focus Did become clear: remember the rail strikes? Hey, how are those going?

It’s extremely easy to get lost in panic and conspiracy-adjacent thought, especially because officials are extremely frequently bad at their jobs, because cops DO do stupid shit like this, because these are extant problems. But it’s also easy to get paralyzed by a nebulous fear of bad actors in the government and lose sight of the immediate issue that these chemical spills happen in general, that they happen because of something wrong with our rail system, etc.

This probably isn’t the One Secret Key to this, either, and there’s probably uglier nuances to the response, but it’s important to keep an eye out for this propensity in ourselves for panic, for catastrophizing, and to think about what and whom that benefits, to get a clearer view to see how one can genuinely help and if this is a thing to which you can afford to lend your concern, what you can do about it yourself. Be careful. Be conscientious about what you allow to take space in your brain and how much good it does you and the world really. Watch out for these kinds of nasty rhetorical traps, these kinds of framing subtleties that can vastly color how you see a situation

Now I am NOT trying to say that OP or commenter did that on purpose or out of malice. I think it’s very likely that they themselves panicked to some degree, quoted and reported on what caught their eye, etc.. I’m ALSO absolutely not saying that they or people who saw these quotes are stupid or gullible. I am Thirdly not trying to say at all I’m an authority on this part of the situation. My intent with this and what I hope anyone who read this far takes away from this is that this was, intentionally or more likely not, there’s been a rhetorical issue in how people are discussing this situation, and it’s one that can vastly increase distress and decrease efficacy of diagnosing the problem for people who ARE involved

Anyway

TL;DR (because god do I talk so much it’s the ADHD)

train carrying some very toxic shit derailed in Ohio

posts going around rn where OP talks about the tanks being exploded in a way that misleads people about the operation

some additions feature a commenter pulling a very frightening quote about those fumes

the truth is that it was a controlled burn done by professionals so the toxic shit wouldn’t catch fire and release horrible fumes in random residential areas 

it was under evac order

it was successful and the evac order was since lifted 

this is really bad but catastrophizing helps no one

REHAUL THE US RAIL SYSTEM NOW

support rail workers and if you have some dollars to spare maybe go see if anyone affected by the evacuations has a Ko-fi

[hops-hunny]

Yo-yo’s Girl

Pairing: Kyoya Ootori x Black!Reader

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 1.6k

Request: N/A

Summary: Kyoya’s girlfriend is a lot a bit different than what they expected.

Warnings: None, could be read as a chubby or plus size reader!

A/N: This was self indulgent. I wrote this at like 2 AM and didn’t know until I woke up.

"Do you really think this is going to work?" Haruhi asked, already done with Tamaki's antics. She knew this was a bad idea but with the promise of some of her debt being removed, she couldn't find herself to do anything but go along with the blonde's crazy scheme.

"Why of course it will! When have you ever known of my plans to go wrong?" He responded, placing a hand over his heart as he swooned around dramatically. Hikaru and Kaoru exchanged looks with each other before looking back at Tamaki.

"Do you really want us to answer that?" They chimed, causing Tamaki to deflate with a defeated look. He looked over at Haruhi with puppy dog eyes, hoping the girl would agree with him. She offered him a sympathetic smile, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"Listen senpai, don't get me wrong, sometimes your ideas are great but isn't this...a bit much? I mean why can't we just ask Kyoya about his love life? Do we really need this elaborate plan?" She asked, hoping he would budge. She looked down as Honey hung off her arm, Mori trailing behind him.

"Don't be silly, Haru-chan! Kyoya senpai is a private guy. He wouldn't trust us with anything like that." He said, climbing off the girl and back onto Mori. She let her eyes drift to Mori in hopes he'd help but he just let out a grunt of agreement. She sighed in defeat knowing she wasn't going to get through to them. How had they gotten into this dumb plan in the first place?

It all started when Tamaki overheard Kyoya on the phone with someone and from the tone in the raven haired boy's voice, he assumed it was a girl. More specifically, his girlfriend. However, any other time Tamaki didn't wanna intrude so to avoid doing so, he decided they would all follow him after school to see if that's where he was going!

As they saw a familiar head of black hair walk towards the school gates, they all began to walk behind him, attempting to be as quiet as possible. They had been following him for a few blocks, leading to a nice but unfamiliar part of town; however as he stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, they all began to hide behind a bush but halted their motions when they heard him speak.

"Do you honestly think I didn't see any of you?" He questioned, not even turning around. They all stayed quiet in hopes that he would assume himself as crazy and continue to make his way down the street. But, as he turned around, parting the bushes, that idea flew out the window.

"Hey Kyoya! My dearest friend, I'd even go as far as to call you my bro-"

"Cut the bullshit Tamaki. Let me guess." He pushed his glasses up his nose before clearing his throat. "You thought that if you followed me you'd get to see my girlfriend, correct?" He asked, their wide eyes answering his question. However, where was the fun in that?

"That's exactly what we were doing! We wanna meet your girlfriend, Kyo-chan!" Honey piped up. The twins glared at him for his willingness to comply with Kyoya's questions so easily. Meanwhile Haruhi just sighed, slumping down even further.

"If you wanted to meet my girlfriend, you all could've just asked. I expected more from you, Haruhi. You should've known better." He chastised, watching the girl who's left eye was currently twitching. Without another word, Kyoya kept down his path towards the airport, leaving his companions to fight amongst each other.

----------------------

It was Friday of the same week and the rest of the hosts were beginning to grow hopeless about meeting Kyoya's girlfriend. Was she even real? Perhaps Tamaki's senses had been wrong and the conversation that played out earlier that week was simply meant to teach them a lesson. However, as the hosts were shutting things down for the day, slowly gathering there things to go home, Kyoya cleared his throat. They all turned to him, curious to what he had to say.

"Leaving so soon? And to think (Y/n) was coming to visit today. Oh well, I'll tell her you all said hi." Kyoya started, turning around to face the window. 3, 2,.. a chorus of hot fire questions started around him causing him to chuckle under his breath. "One at a time, I can't answer you all at once."

"Why doesn't (Y/n)-chan go to school with us?" Honey started, staring up at the tall boy. Kyoya turned to face the group, brushing off his blazer as he did so.

"She does during a portion of the year. Due to her parent's line of business, (Y/n) does one semester in the United States and one here in Japan. However, she is originally from America. Next question?"

"What do her parents do?" The twins said, angry with each other that they had asked the same question. "I thought my question was original.."

"I'm sure you've heard of the (L/n)'s before. They specialize in state of the art technology of all forms. Best selling in all of Japan. However, (Y/n) also has her own business under her parents that deals with unbreakable fine china, some of the best of it's kind but I'm afraid I'm biased." He smiled at the thought of his girlfriend, catching the other host off guard. Who was this girl who was able to make Kyoya smile?

"What's she like, senpai? I'm sure she must be special to catch your attention." Haruhi inquired. Kyoya felt his cheeks heat up as he thought of the many things he enjoyed about his girlfriend. He turned back to the window, looking out it once again.

"She makes me laugh and she's beautiful. Don't tell her that though. She always gets a big head when you do." He muttered, checking his watch for the time. She should've been here by now.

"She sounds absolutely radiant, Kyoya! When is she going to show?" Tamaki asked, sighing dreamily at the thought of his closest friend in love with a beautiful girl. Kyoya looked at the clock across the room before frowning slightly.

"She was supposed to.." he trailed off at the sound of his name being screamed continuously and the sound of loud footsteps growing closer. All of a sudden a blur of brown skin and thick thighs stormed in, jumping onto the man. Mori put Honey down, ready to fight if need be but stopped once he saw Kyoya wrap his arms around the girl, embracing her tightly.

"Darling! I'm sorry I'm late, I got hungry and stopped by that little bakery you showed me the other day!" The girl said, looking up at the boy who had an uncharacteristically warm smile. Everyone was even more shocked as he let out a laugh, stroking some of the girl's braids behind her back. She was a short girl, full of curves and rolls in all the right places. Her outfit was very casual compared to the things Kyoya wore on his free time. She had on a jean skirt and a form fitting striped shirt that made the undertones of her soft brown skin pop.

"I told you to let me know if you plan on going places beforehand. You know how sidetracked you get. You easily could've gotten lost." He lectured causing the girl to roll her eyes. She pouted, crossing her arms around her chest.

"Okay and? Clearly I didn't. Lay off 4 eyes. I'm here now aren't I? That's all that matters!" She jumped out of the boys arms finally before turning to face the rest of them. They all had the same question: 'How could such an energetic girl be with Kyoya?' "You're definitely Tamaki." She said, pointing to the blonde. He had a flattered look on as he began to say something but she cut him off. "You look just as annoying as Yo-yo said." She finished. Hikaru began to comfort their boss in the corner as Kaoru began to laugh.

"Yo-yo?" He choked out, laughing a bit more. Kyoya's face began to heat up more as he looked down at the short girl, a pissed expression on his face.

"(Y/n) I told you not to call me that in public." He said in an angry tone, looking away from the girl. She pouted some more, bringing a soft hand up to his face. As she stroked his cheek, hot tears began to form in the corner of her (e/c) eyes.

"I'm sorry, Kyoya! I forgot. You know me, I didn't mean to embarrass you in front of your friends." He leaned into the girl's touch, looking down at her sad expression. How could he ever stay mad at that? He sighed quickly, leaning down to place a kiss on her forehead. She squeaked, unused to him initiating any sort of physical affection in public.

"Forgive me darling, I hate to see you so sad. How about I take you to one of those," his face turned slightly green as he grimaced some, "Commoner malls that you adore so much. I'll buy you anything you want. Hm?" The girl instantly perked, throwing her pudgy arms around her lanky boyfriend. He tensed a bit before hugging her back warmly, glaring at the twins who looked like they may say something to ruin the sweet moment. Haruhi watched in awe, feeling even herself grow emotional at how clearly in love her senpai was.

"Really? Let's go Kyo! What are we waiting for?" (Y/n) asked as she grabbed her boyfriend's hand, beginning to drag him towards the door forcefully. Once they were out she quickly peaked her head back in looking at the others.

"Well? Are you coming?"

[shyvioletcat]

“oh, you’ve started stealing my socks now?” Rowaelin please

ROWAELIN MONTH: DAY 2

~ Collage Au ~

Bring this little au back from way back when. PART ONE HERE. Remember to check out @rowaelinscourt for more Rowaelin Month goodness.

~~~~~

Aelin preferred to do her washing at about 8pm in the evening on a Wednesday. It was slow during that time, it was after dinner and people were usually in their rooms doing other things, and mid week meant there wasn’t a mad rush for clean clothes for the weekend. While she waited for the washer and dryer to do their thing she allowed herself some recreational reading. A book that didn’t have to do with a single class, something she read for pure enjoyment.

She was just getting to the really juicy bit when the washing machine sang it’s little song and Aelin sighed as she slipped the bookmark in and closed the book. The sooner she got the clothes in the dryer the sooner she could get back to her book. Aelin started loading her wet washing into her laundry bag to take to the opposite wall of the room where the dryers were lined up. She was hauling out the last few pieces when she pulled out a sock that certainly didn’t belong to her.

It was dark green, but it wasn’t the colour that was unusual. It was the size. She suspected that if she tried it on it might just hit her knee. Whoever owned this must be a giant. Aelin was about to drop the item into the lost and found basket when she heard a voice behind her.

“Oh, you’ve started stealing my socks now?”

Aelin was already grinning when she turned around, she’d only met him the once but she remembered the sound of his voice and the smiles they had shared since their first run in. She had been correct in her assumption as she turned around and saw the Laundry Room guy standing there, looking amused and very pleased. The man was a giant, his feet needed to be big otherwise he’d be in risk of falling over.

“Rowan, right?” She asked, just to be polite. There was no way she’d be forgetting that name any time soon.

He pointed to her. “Aelin.”

“Guilty as charged,” she gave him her best smile. Maybe her book would have to wait a little bit longer.

~~~~~

Rowan couldn’t believe his luck. He was folding up his washing when he noticed one of his best socks missing and although he hated to do so, he walked all the way back down to the laundry to find it. Now he was presented with this serendipitous moment and he couldn’t be happier. All that the two of them had done was smile at each other since she had stumbled in on him handling her underwear, and now nearly the same thing had happened. At least Rowan got away with just a sock.

“Your feet are huge,” Aelin said, dropping his sock on top of her wet washing.

Rowan took a few steps forward, using his huge feet to get a little closer so they weren’t conversing across the length of the room. “I would say they’re proportional.”

“You know what they say about big feet,” she said, grinning to herself and gave him a wink. “Is everything proportional?”

Rowan choked as she cackled, carrying her bag of laundry to the dryer.

“I’m so sorry, that was awful. Please forgive me,” Aelin said as started loading in the wet clothes. “Really, so bad.”

Rowan just laughed, giving her what he hoped was a self assured shrug. “I gentleman never tells.”

Her laugh came out in a sudden burst, and Rowan’s heart did a thing he ignored for the moment. “Thank you for finding it funny and not reporting me to the RA.”

“Well, I might for you stealing my sock,” Rowan nodded to where it lay with her clothes.

“Oh, yeah.” She picked up the sock and threw it at him and he caught it easily. “Always a pleasure, Rowan. Enjoy your night.”

Rowan had wanted to stay, he really did. But he had a 500 word response to his weekly reading to upload before the night was out, and of course he hadn’t started. So instead he offered the stunning blonde a smile of his own.

“Until next time.”

~~~~~

Tags:

@fucking-winchester-trash // @literary-licorice // @galyxsy // @tangledraysofsunshine // @highqueenofelfhame // @3am-reading // @soup-that-is-too-hawt // @aelinfire-bringer // @nalgenewhore // @highladyofthesith // @http-itsrebecca // @sleep-and-books // @alifletcher2012 // @westofmoon // @sleeping-and-books // @ttakeitbacknoww // @armixers-unite // @mariamuses // @chocolate-eating-bitch-queen // @velarian-trash // @queenofxhearts // @heroesofterrasen // @highladyofstoriesandmusic // @empire-of-wildfire // @camerooonchiu // @crackedship // @lowhangingtreebranches // @over300books // @yourwhisperingshadows // @thesirenwashere // @tswaney17 // @impossiblescissorspeachpaper // @cat5313 // @judelovescardan // @flowerspringsea // @chaoticskyy // @the-regal-warrior // @fanfictrash3000 // @blueeyes425 // @starseternalnighttriumphant // @bamchickawowow // @thehuntressofmoon // @giorgia-the-trashpanda // @flora-and-fae // @thereaderandfangirl // @illyrian-bookworm // @chemicha // @meltalgel // @gay-book-nerd // @that-odd-puzzle-piece // @i-love-all-books // @in-love-with-caramel-macchiato // @girl-who-reads-the-books // @hizqueen4life // @the-third-me // @1islessthan3books // @bestmelle // @cursebreaker29 // @b00kworm10 // @superspiritfestival // @aesthetics-11 // @maastrash // @mynewdreamwasyou // @the-last-apprentice // @charincharge // @firestarsandseneschals // @scarznstars // @absolute-dissapointment // @thesurielships // @df3ndyr // @trinitybailey2003 // @hellasblessed // @booknerdproblems // @larisssss // @sevenfreckles-for-sevenloves // @rolltide7 // @scandinavianromantic // @tillyrubes10 // @starwarsslytherin // @minaidss // @paytin77 // @jesstargaryenqueen // @anntheintrovert // @starbornvalkyrie // @loudphantomdragon // @woollycat22 // @claralady // @perseusannabeth // @fangirlprincess09 // @maddymelv // @sierrareads // @more-espresso-less-depresso-xx // @jlinez // @lysandra-ghost-leopard // @rowaelinismyotp // @pullnpeeltwizzlers // @anne-reads // @jadeaffliction // @gracie-rose // @elriel4life // @miserablesmusings // @tothestarswholistentodreamers // @thenerdandfandoms // @castielspelvis // @swankii-art-teacher // @grandma-noob-lord // @vanzetanze // @highlady-brittney // @story-scribbler // @linguine-panini // @pastasiren // @surielandiareendgame // @silentquartz // @littleboxofthunder // @empress-ofbloodshed // @booksbqueen // @rowanwhitethornisbae // @charlizeed // @feysand-loml // @aelin-queen-of-terrasen // @alyx801 // @amandaswallowtail // @louiseleblancdiggory // @abookishfreak // @danibutterr // @thegreyj // @lizzyfirebringer // @endlessdaydream // @magnifique1807

[murmursdraconic]

"Thanks, you wouldn't believe she was a tiny, sickly runt twentyish years ago."

Asharas gave Red a gentle play bite on his arm as her form of greeting. He could make all the same sounds Shay could, and she practically squeaked in glee, giving Shay a nudge to make sure she was paying attention.

Then Red's Charizard came out.

Asharas was much larger than her typical species size, but Red the Charizard was even bigger than that. The trainer blinked at the titanic orange beast, then let her hands and wrists be sniffed as customary. Asharas chirruped and sniffed Red back, ending with a friendly thrumming. New friend?

Shay, who practically had Char as a second language, also did the typical friendly draconic sound off.

"Well that's an absolute unit." Shay was in awe of Red's... Red. "I've trained a good five or so 'Zards in my time, but they haven't gotten that big."

The woman looked over the dragon with a scrutinizing eye. The scars looked like some serious wounds, but the scales healed nicely. The scales would have reinforced themselves or the scar tissue would have likely made the dermal surfaces a bit more numb.

She was nodding along with the breeding explanations. "I can see that. Garchomps are a lot hardier than people think. Hmm... keeled scales are very likely, lookin' at 'em. Asharas has extremely smooth scales, which comes in part from some Tyranitar genes she has. Also she loves water so shedding was never a problem. Given how the scarring looks..."

There was a pause, some thought.

"So long as you keep the babies hydrated and give them a good bit of roughs and enrichment... it would definitely be patched shedding. That would also help with eye caps. If I had the run down of the Garchomp I could narrow down what you were looking at rather easily."

Hey gorgeous.

His grin reaches his eyes when Charizard pops out of her ball. Wow a shiny one too. He can't help but laugh at the sniffs and offer his forearms and hands to play with, bumping his palms against her lips to tussle in greeting. He clicks his teeth at her, trilling his tongue and chirping.

<< She's awesome. Wow. A S H A R A S. >>

He lifted a finger in 'wait' and unclipped an apricorn ball from his belt, tossing it some distance up before light spilled out of it.

And the largest Charizard erupted out of it, scarred as hell.

Charizard landed behind him with a titanic thud, looming forward on all fours and letting out a chattering, then a trilling whistle. The enormous beast was more than twice Red's standing height, and much, much longer. He raised his neck, and customarily sniffed Shay, and snuffled near Asharas as well.

<< We have the same name. Red. Why I picked him. -About the breeding issues. He does have problems. Lots of duds and failed clutches. Why I wanted to try Garchomp in the first place. Sturdy. >>

Red thumped Charizard's chest and he 'mrrrd'.

<< Terrible shedders probably. Hoping for less ridged scales or maybe smooth scale because easier to take eyecaps off without cutting self. >>

[needs-to-stop-looking-at-valves]

what about some kup x springer? that old geezer needs to be plowed hard and good!! :3c

Ayyye I got you king, you fuckin' got it.

Kup has been around the block. He's seen monsters big and small, been in the coldest climates and under the most scaliding suns. But not ONCE has he seen such bullshit. He was in charge of making sure the new wrecker wannabes did their daily trainings, and of course, once mech had to ruin it for the rest of them.

And that mech was Springer. Kup had to head out to check on something (on request of Ultra Magnus), and instead of doing rounds, he caught his team looking at dirty magazines. Now don't get Kup wrong, he knew what was on a young mechs processor, and it was plenty healthy. When they were on their own time.

"But when it's distracting the rest of the team, that's when it is a problem. This is what you save for the barracks, kid."

Someone had snitched, revealing that they belonged to Springer. The hot shot triple changer who was easy on the optics, hard on the processor. It was why he was in his office, uninterested as Kup scolded him. Springer shrugged.

"What? You were gone, we were bored. And these are new! It's just mechs having fun."

"Training first, playtime later."

"Wow, prude much?"

"I don't give a scrap if you all have an orgy back there, I really don't. I need you-"

Springer threw his hands up, as if in disbelief.

"As if you give us enough time to HAVE an orgy back there. I think you're just so bitter that YOU don't get laid, you're spikeblocking the rest of us!"

Kup had to take a second to absorb all this bullshit. He pulled a cygar from his desk, lit it, then took a long inhale. There was no common sense in this kid, no reasoning with him. He exhaled slowly, letting the smoke fill the immediate area.

"Alright. Alright. You wanna play this game, do ya kid? We'll play that game. You get to be transferred to Ultra Magnus-"

"His unit SUCKS! Kup come on, you're blowing this out of proportion!"

Kup scoffed. He knew kid was gonna play hard ball. He picked up the magazine, using it to lightly smack Springer on his forehead.

"Alright. Then ya aft gonna face some punishment."

He made him get up, and handed him the magazine in question. Springer looked confused as Kup laid his body on the desk.

"What...am I supposed to do?"

"Manual labor. And you are NOT gonna stop until I say so."

Springer had more questions, obviously, until Kup spread his legs, and popped open his valve panel. Kup thought this was a bad idea, as it might ruin his reputation, but when he felt Springer ran his hand up his back, Kup knew he'd definitely have worst ideas.

"I knew you were in need of a spike, but damn going so far as to take advantage of a lil' recruit? For shame, sir."

Kup felt him lean over and place that magazine in front of them, showing a rather lewd imagine of a fem, huge chasis, playing with her valve folds. Right, bisexual. More chances for this young mech to act like a turbo fox in heat. With his hands free, he held onto Kup's hips, grinding his panel against his aft. Kup laid there, letting him get a good feel for his frame, while he took another inhale of his cygar.

"Because I leave this kinda punishment for morons like you. Trust me, it's not easy as-"

He was silenced when he felt that spike rub against him. Springer was stupid, sure, but he was right about one thing; Kup REALLY needed a nice spike. And from the size that he felt pressed against him, he was about to get just that.

"Sir, with all due respect, shut up."

Maybe it was because Kup had been looking through the magazines earlier. Maybe it was because he was excited by the idea of a young, fit stud fucking him. Either way, his valve was wet enough for Springer to push himself in effortlessly. Springer seemed to like the somewhat tight fit, given the chuckle that escaped his throat. Springer moved himself back and forth, not to be nice, but because he wanted to get a nice feel for his new valve.

"Good fit, eh?"

Springer leaned over Kup, swiping the cygar from his lips, smirking as he held it in his teeth.

"Not bad, definitely not bad. Gonna feel better once I get you whimpering though, old man."

Springer leaned himself back up, slowly pushing himself back and forth, as if the motion was foreign to him. Just when Kup was about to complain, Springer finally picked things up a bit, grabbing his hips firmly to push and pull Kup onto his spike. Kup groaned in relief. This was more fucking like it.

"Was starting to think you were scared of hurtin' me there, kid."

"Pfft. Hurting YOU? You're like an old bridge. You can take a lot more pressure."

Kup was about to bark at him for calling him old, when he slammed himself fully inside, making Kup stiffen on the spot. Springer laughed, removing the cygar from his mouth in order to blow smoke in Kup's direction. Kup turned to look at that stupid, smug smile of his. Kid was so cocksure, it was precious.

"That right? Well, go ahead, see how much pressure I CAN take."

"As you command, sir."

He gave him a mock salute, and after putting the smoke back into his teeth, he dug his servos into his hips again, and started to move, properly. As in, he started to plow right into his valve, metal clanking against metal, fluids cascading from their legs and onto the floor. Kup was loving it, reaching one hand down to rub at his little node. Oh it had been ages since he had a young, strong stud to fuck his valve.

"Don't hear ya talkin' slag back there, kid."

What he WAS hearing was Springer panting behind him, exhaling smoke as if he were a freight train. Poor guy wasn't used to handling having a seasoned pussy to pound, and he was making it pretty fucking obvious.

"S-shut up. Primus shut up."

"Aw, am I too much for ya to handle? You like fragging this 'old bridge'? You wanna overload in me? Well,"

He stood up, pressing his back to the other's chest, and stole his cygar from his mouth.

"You overload, right inside of me."

Then he pressed his lips against his. Kup bought good smokes, but something about the way they came from a young mechs lips- made them taste even better. Springer grabbed onto Kup's massive thighs, and overloaded. Kup let himself be filled with overload, before he pushed Springer's lips away, even being sweet enough to wipe the drool free from his lip. Springer chuckled, patting his thighs.

"Slag old man...you ain't have bad. This was fun."

"Was? Kid, you're kiddin'. We're just starting."

Kup reached behind him, grabbed Springer's legs, and pulled. It sent Springer to the floor, right on his back. Then Kup helped himself to round two, sitting down right on that spike, and starting to bounce on him. Springer was writhing on the floor, trying to grab anything in hopes to have something to grip on.

"FUCK OLD MAN!-"

Springer wasn't handling his spike being abused like this. And primus was it cute. Kup groaned loudly in content, and a puff of smoke somehow only made it better. He didn't even bother looking behind him. Not yet.

"Aw, what's wrong? Thought I was just an old mech who needed some spike? Thought YOU were the young mech to give it to me, eh?"

"Y-you're going f-fast-"

Oh Springer's hips kept bucking against him, more out of reflex than his actual want for more stimulation. Was it a bit much for the mech? Sure, but Kup didn't care. Not when it felt SO good in his soaked, soiled valve.

"That's it. Twitch in me. Gimme another load, same you'd do for your little magazine gal."

Springer finally acted like a proper solider, and obeyed. His hips bucked up, and he overloaded yet again. Kup swore his optics rolled to the back of his head as he finally got his own overload. Oh his valve ached. And he wanted more. He spun around on his spike, hand pressed on Springer's hot chest. Poor Springer.

Drooling, steaming, absolutely soaked in condensation. His optics looked hazy, his mouth agape as he panted.

"S-shit Kup. I'm...I can't do anymore. Primus say we're done. Please."

"Not a chance. This is your punishment kid. You ain't leavin' till you've learned your lesson. And you know me,"

He pulled himself off his spike, only to SLAM himself back down, making Springer toss his helm back as he cried out. Kup tried not to chuckle, but he just couldn’t help himself.

"I'm a through teacher~"

[rockheadcd]

@electrivolt​ said: The mismatched team Volkner had returned from the past with was a sight to behold, such odd 'mons between forms and sizes Lucario had been the only one that could've been considered normal— and yet it's no surprise when even between variants lost to time, it's the overgrown dino grabbing attention, aware of it or not. ( growlithe had hogged it for long enough, anyways— )

Rampardos doesn't seem to mind the stares he gets from miner and smaller fossil alike, long since used already to this human's particular awe for reasons he doesn't quite understand, but well. He's not being feared for once, and this human his own is so fond of keeps being an absolute enabler and bringing treats, so he doesn't mind. Certainly one of his favorite humans in this time. 

Hopefully this human's dino wouldn't mind as he happily grabbed all of his attention. He would be doing it anyways while his own human wasn't available. / roark hyperfixates in real time live in 4K HD | accepting.

Ramses only looks a little disgruntled, mostly because he himself is constantly in awe at the sheer size of his brethren. Of course, Roark’s first observations were... caveman-like: one, him big, and two, him red. How Volkner managed to get his hands on an alpha shiny Rampardos may have had something to do with the association—Roark wasn’t that dumb, and if the way they had so constantly spoken to one another had proven to him, it was that any reminder was rather all-consuming. 

It made it all the more endearing, really, and Roark had been more than happy to spoil Rampardos, assuming that he wasn’t terribly distracted by their beloved rock puppy.

“Ah, I’m glad you like what I bring you! Years of practice,” Roark babbles on, falling into the routine of taking care of the Cranidos line with a light scrub of a soft bristle brush. Even if this guy was an absolute unit, his arms, proportionally, were still pretty small. Even he needed help getting dusted off. Ramses settles himself by Roark’s side, and maybe he’s a little jealous, but that’s clearly because he isn’t the senior dinosaur in this arrangement anymore. Still, he’s benevolent with the alpha after having gotten used to the fact he could tower over him. Much of Roark’s living fossils had similar reactions upon seeing this particular specimen alive and well—they had never seen an abnormally large fossil in the flesh like this. “I never thought even fossils could be alpha-sized, too, which kind of sucks knowing that means the whole alpha thing died out within the last couple of centuries.”

A wistful sigh, but knowledge was knowledge, right? Gazing fondly at Rampardos, Roark sets down the brush to he can reach up and pull Rampardos’ head down by the spikes, gently and carefully bumping his head against the dino’s before letting go. “Thank you for protecting Volkner, by the way. I bet you did a pretty good job in my place, hehe.”

[mewmurdock]

Could you write a thing where Loki makes love to the reader for the first time?

Leannan

Pairing: Husband!Loki x Virgin!Wife!Reader

Warnings: smut (lovemaking, oral (female receiving), loss of virginity, size kink), death by fluff, emotions. Loki speaking Gaelic and Old Norse. Love.

A/N: You get me, anon. You even said, "Make love". Hell to the yeah. Also, this is dramatic as hell.

You had never thought that you would spend the rest of your life with a god, but are you complaining? Absolutely not.

He has been your husband for... nine hours, three minutes, and... and you've lost track of the seconds. You doubt that he has, though. No, Loki can keep track of things like that.

You're standing in his — no, your — room, with your arms around yourself. Standing still, your eyes are fixed on the bed.

"And what has my wife so frightened, hmm?"

A caress against the back of your shoulder. Goosebumps break out at Loki’s touch, but there is no fear. Not here.

"Oh," you say, your voice betraying your emotions, "I'm — I'm not frightened." You smile. "It's just... newlyweds usually... "

"Seal the deal?"

"Ye— yeah. That."

"You don't seem frightened, but you are nervous, as most wives are on their wedding night." He comes into your field of vision, and you see his youthful face, so full of life and love. Love towards you. "A chagair, we don't have to do anything tonight... we don't have to do anything at all, if you don't want to. Now, or ever."

He has slipped in a Gaelic word — now you know this is something sincere. He's only ever spoken in Gaelic to you. That, and Norse. The Gaelic was laced into his wedding vows as well. You have yet to find out what any if it means, but he assured you after the wedding that you would find out in time.

"I do want to," you say. "I don't feel pressured or anything like that. You're my husband, Loki." The unfamiliar sentence makes its way past your lips and it slips out like a snake, curling with the tilt of your head and lifting its own head at your smile.

And with your smile comes his. He takes your hands in his, lifting them to his own lips and kissing your fingers, making his way up your hands, up to your arms. One arm drops to your side as his attention lingers on the other, but it comes back up again to run through Loki's hair, which is still one of the softest things you've ever touched.

"Say it," he mumbles into your skin. "Please, say that you want me."

"I love you."

There's meaning in that exchange, and you both know it. Loki pulls back, slowly, and looks up at you with that look, the one that tells you, I don't deserve you. "My—" he gasps, "my darling, I—"

Then he's up again, kissing you with more ferocity and passion than usual. The wedding kiss. He cups your face in his calloused hands, thumbs swiping over your cheeks.

"I love you so much, leannan," he whispers when he pulls his lips away from yours. His eyes are glistening. "How I ever ended up with you..." He interrupts himself with an overjoyed, choked up laugh.

"You doubt your own worth," you say with a smile. "You won't ever have to do that again. Not with me...not with anyone." You reach up and wipe his eyes.

He says nothing at that, but you know he's feeling so many things: denial, humility, adoration... He doesn't have to say anything. You don't want him to, anyway.

Gently, he moves you toward the bed. The door has been shut, and the lights have been dimmed. You can still see him, and that's all you need for you to feel safe.

He lays you down onto the bed, letting his eyes wander over your form. He notices the small rise and fall of your chest, the smoothness of your legs, the way you’re looking up at him, hope and love now betraying your own thoughts of nervousness and hesitation.

“I am going to ravish you tonight,” he says, and it is good and real and he loves you. Dear God, he loves you he loves you and he's gonna go to his grave with those words on his lips.

"Are you?" you ask and it's amiable and joking and you love him...

"Yes, my sweetness, I am. If you'll let me." Loki starts to caress you now, gentle hands making his way, almost hesitantly, up your legs, up your clothed torso. His right hand finds a breast, and he squeezes it, gently, thumb swiping over the hardened nipple there. And there's a sound he hears — a sigh, but it's different this time. It's not annoyed, it's not tired. It is relaxation, it is courage, it is acceptance.

"Yes," you sigh. He helps you out of your nightgown, slips it above your head. You wear nothing now except a white pair of lace underwear. Innocence, he thinks as he looks down at that part of you, that chaste and secret part of you that even you haven't explored too much.

He leaves it as he rises to meet your lips with his again. He has to be slow, gentle, patient. He must make this good and natural for you.

Your eyes flick all over him. You look at his chest, his muscular arms that are not holding you just yet, his emerald eyes that are darkened with lust... lust for you... and what surprises you the most is actually not that. It is, simply, how tall and big he seems, hanging over your small, delicate form.

"What is it?" Loki asks, and a smile makes its way to his face.

"Oh, it's nothing. Just... ah, how... how little I am compared to you. I feel very small. And... and I like it."

He hums. "You're my little one, aren't you?" He moves his head to your neck and slowly, slowly kisses there, and something about that makes you shiver.

Then, he makes his way down, looking up occasionally to see your reactions. He kisses and caresses your breasts, then your stomach. You gasp when he leaves a little love bite down near your hip.

The moment of truth comes as he looks at your covered sex. He can clearly see that you are ready for him. "May I take these off?" he asks, his voice so quiet you barely hear him. You nod, and he does. He slips your underwear off of you, the sound of the fabric on skin soothing to you in the oddest of ways. Then, he looks down at you.

You don't hide yourself, nor do you make a show of yourself. You are just there, all bare and naked in the dark before him. You don't quite know what to do with your hands, your legs, and you don't know what you should be looking at, either.

He says your name, in a voice that sounds so awed and overwhelmed. He glances briefly up at you. That smile has still not left his face. "My darling, you're stunning. Ethereal. Absolutely exquisite."

He goes lower, and your breath hitches as a green light surrounds him for a moment, ridding him of his clothes. Your hand finds his. "What are you doing?"

"I know you're already ready for me, pet, but... I just want to taste you."

Good God, how can he make such dirty words sound so shy and caring?

Though you have your doubts about whether he'll like it, you let him.

He takes his time, memorizing the taste and feel of every inch of you down there and it's wonderful. His tongue swipes through your lips and up to your clit, spreading warmth wherever it goes. Breathless, you gasp and quiver as he continues.

"My dear," Loki says, lifting his head to give you a way to catch your breath, but also to tease, "you've no idea how incredibly arousing it is to have you like this..." He seems very lost in thought. "Submitting to every ounce of pleasure I give you..."

You moan at his words. "Loki, I need you, please, I — ah—"

He interrupts you by licking up your folds and sucking on your clit again. "I know, sweetness. I know. And you shall have me. I guess this'll have to wait."

He moves, then, kissing his way back up to your face. And as his body lifts, you get a good look at him and your mind blanks.

Oh, he's beautiful...

Mostly pale skin, with some blush on his chest. He isn't overly muscular, but you can tell by his arms and his torso that he does have strength to him.

You look lower. It's the first time you've seen a penis up close like this, and you can somehow say that Loki's is very nice. A little bit on the slimmer side, but it is a little longer. And it is rock hard.

"Lítár þú," Loki mutters dreamily, his eyes scanning over your entire body. "Minn wife."

His voice sounds wonderful in English, and it sounds absolutely ethereal in Gaelic and Norse. It sounds so smooth, so foreign, oddly comforting.

He moves closer, so that your legs are beside his own and he is almost at that spot that you've dreamed about, prayed for, the place a husband and wife are connected, with him on top. "Are you ready?" He smiles, gently, carressing your left thigh.

"Yes," you say simply.

You lift your arms, like a toddler pleading to go up, and Loki falls on top of you, his arms on either side of your shoulders.

Time seems to stop.

You are face to face, breathing in each other's air, and your eyes are locked. All that you know in that moment is that the man you are looking at is your best friend, your lover, your husband. Your brand new husband, your only husband. Your joyful smile tells him everything he needs to know:

God Almighty, I love you.

And he answers with the same smile. "Leannan," he whispers. "That means beloved. "

Your eyes fill with tears.

A warning look comes over his face then, as he looks down at where the both of you are moments away from being united. "I will not deny that this will hurt. But I will do what I can to ease your pain. It will only hurt for a moment."

And, ever so slowly, he pushes in. He does it as if one wrong, badly timed movement will cause you to almost scream with pain — he does it carefully, never taking his eyes off of your face, never taking his arms away from where they keep him above you.

You gasp at the first flicker of pain you feel. Then, your gasps turn to little cries, little whimpers.

Loki shushes you, his tone so quiet you can barely hear him. "I know, I know it hurts. It'll be over soon."

A couple more seconds, and he is fully inside you. Your breath comes in little gasps as the dull pain fades. Loki himself releases one breath, one that is laced with lust. "There you go, it's over. Good job," he says, wiping your eyes with a hand, "Are you alright?"

You nod, weakly, offering him a smaller smile. "Yeah," you whisper, "yeah, I'm good."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

He looks over you again, just to make sure he hasn't hurt you in any way. Then, his face becomes more determined.

"I am going to make love to you," he says, and your breath hitches. You've always loved that phrase.

What he does next surprises you. He moves, almost laying completely on top of you now, and wraps his arms around your shoulders. His head goes low to kiss at your neck again, and that is when you feel his length moving inside of you.

You lose your breath at the first thrust, suddenly consumed by an urge to wrap your own arms... and legs... around his warm body.

You've never been closer to him in your entire life.

"Yes," Loki murmurs into your ear, "yes, hold on to me." His lips graze your temple. "Let me take care of you now."

And you do. You let him move inside of you, thrusting slowly and gently, giving you pleasures you've never felt before. He moves with a firmness, but a passionate one. Every stroke he makes is long and slow, and he pushes back into you with a determination. The pleasure in your limbs grows with every stroke, from not being there at all to a low sensation in your groin to a fire that's burning you from the inside out.

You grip at him, sobbing with the force of it all. It's too much and it's perfect and it's too much and you're crying, begging for this passion to last. Loki notices, and though his hips don't stop their movements, he moves his torso back up to hover over yours. His own eyes now shine with tears, as well.

He kisses you, sharing that same feeling of seemingly unconditional love coming from the both of you.

This goes on for some time — you can only do so much in a situation like this — but once Loki's hips stutter and his breathing becomes more labored, you know it's almost over. You as well, are inching closer to your own end, and one shaky whimper lets him know.

"Oh —" He realizes what this means, and he sounds delighted. "My dear, I want you to come with me. Share this moment with me, come on."

"Loki, I —" you plead, your entire body warming rapidly. "Oh... oh God —"

"Come on, leannan, come with me."

And you do. You let go of everything in that moment, just reveling in the feeling of his arms around you and the immense pleasure you feel from your first real orgasm. You sob for him again, gripping his shoulders with trembling hands. He, after a few more seconds, comes inside you with a groan, and it takes a minute for the both of you to catch your breath.

Your heartbeats quieting, you practically melt into each other's embrace as Loki falls into bed beside you. You absorb this feeling into your memory, of how the air feels and smells, how the sweat on your skin is oddly comforting, the look in Loki's eyes...

"That..." you pant. "That was amazing..."

And Loki smiles. "I'm glad... I'm glad I could do that, my beautiful, wonderful wife..."

So ends your first night as husband and wife. One, you know, of many.