#i'm so rusty at writing

[stsgsk]

"You've saved me as what?" Satoru repeats for what must have been the fifth time.

You sigh, speaking again, slowly. "Cotton Swab. I saved you as Cotton Swab"

Satoru gapes at you, mouth opening and closing without a single word coming out. In the end, he pouts and look away.

You frown. "Hey, come on. Don't be like that," You walk around him so you're directly in his line of view, his pink lips sticking out as he crosses his arms. You show him your phone, where his contact really is saved as 'Cotton Swab'. "It's a term of endearment. An affectionate nickname. I mean, would you rather just be saved as Satoru? How boring is that?"

Satoru glances at your screen once, then looks away, clearly unimpressed. "You didn't even give me an emoji."

"Alright, alright" you say, going ahead to edit his contact name. "I'll add some emojis. Which ones do you want?"

Before you could blink, satoru had taken your phone. He gives it back to you a few seconds later, leaving you chuckling at the long list of emojis he had put after his name. His name, you just realised, he changed to 'bf'.

You look up at him with a grin. "You gonna explain that?"

"Nope" he says back with a matching grin.

He didn't explain that you two were now matching, because he had long since had you saved as 'gf' with a whole bunch of emojis after too.

[calmparticles]

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[capricornlevi]

"i don't do dress-up," toji huffs, not even wanting to dignify your request with an eye roll.

you, on the other hand, have no problem turning your eyes up, sighing partially from frustration, partially out of fondness.

"it's a costume party, toji. it's the one and only requirement. and you promised you'd make an effort with my friends!"

"effort means helping 'em move or something. not ... fuckin'... putting on cat ears or some shit like that."

"the cat ears are for me, actually," you sigh again, starting to shove the contents of your shopping haul back into the paper bag.

you'd picked up a few cheap and simple ideas for toji, laying them out on your bed for him to pick.

a simple black eye mask (for a bandit, masquerade, whatever). some sunglasses and overalls (top gun pilot). even some flimsy little plastic vampire fangs that he could wear with his regular clothes --

anything. anything to show he's making an attempt at participating.

but in the midst of all your enthusiasm, you'd accidentally tossed your recently purchased pair of fluffy cat ears on the bed. before you can grab them to put them away, toji hooks them with his finger, holding them up for closer inspection.

"what are you gonna wear with these?" he asks, voice calm and low, skillfully hiding the thoughts suddenly filling his head.

you pause, setting the bag back down. "for my costume?"

he nods, still holding the cat ears, but his full attention is now on you.

realising the opportunity, you grin.

"probably this," you say nonchalantly, fishing the lacy miniskirt out of the bag and setting it down on the covers.

clearly exercising a great degree of self-control, toji's expression doesn't change, but he can't hide the look in his eyes as his gaze travels over the fabric.

pupils blown, he darts his eyes back to you, following you as you take a seat on the bed next to the skirt.

he swallows thickly, setting down the cat ears and running a hand through his tousled hair, a sign you've seen a hundred times before.

the room is silent, overwhelmingly so, until he finally breaks it --

"can you try it on for me?"

"suddenly interested in costumes, are we?" you retort as your smile returns, delighted to see his facade cracking before you.

just as he gives in, leaning over and manoeuvring you exactly how he wants to, you hear him whisper roughly;

"maybe i can get behind dress-up."

[smugpugchimera]

For nerdy freaks alike: some trivia about sexual anatomies of my bug gals in regards to their intersex variations May this be a good appetizer before I'm able to put other lore on canvas >< Art of Atla with her ovipositors out :D

Atla is an anthro scolopendra, with loose naga inspiration. In her species sperm depositing and egg laying organs are developmentally analogues, with hers falling somewhat in-between, due to a hormone wash cut prematurely. Her pigmentation is atypical for her species in general.  Not that she's aware of any of that, separated from her mother at a very early age, there's nothing she could rly compare herself to :P

Ghawa showing her hair pencils off

Ghawa's anthro moth, based primarily on lime hawk-moth, (a bit of Oleander  hawk-moth inspo too) In addition to sperm receiving gland, Ghawa has a pair of hair pencils, a pheromone emitting organ for attracting mates. Her bright markings are more typical for males.  Living in a non-moth dominated community,  it does make much of a difference socially.

Questions are very welcome, I'm trying to remember how to write :D ----------------------------- 💜BuyMeaCoffee💜Patreon💜

[charcubed]

wait I'm sorry I just got kicked in the face. There's gonna be more sherlock?

LMFAAAOOO

Okay so. Yes because real ones know that that's always been the case!!

Here's a list of some of the ancient lore quotes from Mofftiss about the 5 season arc:

"instant series commission, a guaranteed 2nd series, a cuddle, a guaranteed 3rd series, and a whispered invitation back to 'my place' (where I'll explain that really I've got a 5-series arc in mind, & a spin-off)" –Moffat, 2009 (one year before Sherlock)

"Having started off with Sherlock and John much younger men than they are usually presented, it would be rather lovely to keep going. I love the idea of them being in their 50's and still doing it." Mark Gatiss, 2013

“…we just got out of the rain and sat at the top of the [Sherlock] production bus… and we just started plotting out what we could do in the future. And we plotted out the whole of series four and five.” –Moffat, 2014

Moffat: "We've had the most sketchy discussions on what we'd do." Mark: "We have an idea for season five on a Post-it note. That's as far as we've got. Unless I'm lying?" –2016

Moffat: "Thank you for showing more patience than any other fandom in history." Mark: "Stay tuned!" 2020, celebrating the 10-year anniversary

Those are just the quotes I have on hand right now, of course, but I do enjoy trotting them out lmao.

And yeah, after s4, basically Moffat or Mark or Sue Vertue all pop up in press every now and then to essentially publicly say "yeah we'd love to make more Sherlock but it's so hard to get ahold of Benedict and Martin :/ someday!" and everyone on the internet goes "OH MY GOD SHERLOCK IS COMING BACK???" and those of us who have been here the entire time are like "yes. it's a matter of when, not if" looollll. (There was an article with quotes by Sue a few days ago so that's why everyone is discussing it again.)

Of course, quotes by the creators (who are also notorious liars) are arguably not what matters most. The biggest evidence that there will be more Sherlock is the fact that the show indicates a 5-season arc and always has. Lowest hanging fruit: "The Five Pips" of The Great Game, for example.

But! Required reading: I humbly direct you to this post by the brilliant @devoursjohnlock. It continues to be my favorite summary about what this show is doing, as a queer story that acts as a queer adaptation/interpretation of Arthur Conan Doyle's work to bring the subtext of the original stories to light as text – amongst other things. And it talks about how/why the story remains unresolved.

Aaaaand I also direct you to this post by @bisexualmindcabin explaining how/why there may be a 10 year gap before s5 – a.k.a. just like Arthur Conan Doyle brought Sherlock Holmes back 10 years after killing him, if Mofftiss wanted to recreate that, they'd possibly aim to bring the show back 10 years after "killing" it.

SO YEAH

TL;DR: THERE'S GONNA BE MORE SHERLOCK

eventually

[xo-cod]

needy reader begging simon to let her sit on his cock when he's doing paperwork and promising she'll be a good girl and not move but ofc she can't and she starts riding him then he bends her over his desk and fucks her senseless🤤😩

lysm hope you're doing well💗

😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫 ah omg i love this i'm sorry i got this so late ilyt babe 🤍🤍

very nsfw/rushed but i can def going into more detail/longer one in another post :) <3

simon who's so cocky because he knows just how needy you become, who intentionally flexes the muscles in his thighs because he loves how flustered you get sitting in his lap.

"you ain't movin' 'till i'm done, alright love?" his voice is clear, a demand of sorts, as he whispers it into your ear, pressing a soft kiss to your temple as he chuckles at your state. your nod and your suppressed groan, knowing he would take his time just to watch you get all desperate.

and at first you do obey, there's nothing more pretty than watching your lover completing his paperwork and watching the pure concentration on his face as he uses one hand to write while the other rests around your hips. holding you close to him

but it's so hard especially when the last time you both had any sort of intimacy had been a while back, especially when your needs seemed to have a mind of it's own

it started off slow, your hips moving softly across his thigh and then his bulge while he pauses. it stirs you on, the movement growing faster as he narrows his eyes at you and then your hips.

"what'd i just say?" he tuts but you don't have it in you to even answer, your hands holding onto his chest while your hips drag out over his thigh slowly drawing soft moans from the pair of you as you repeated the motion. he doesn't say a word, just moves your body as he pleases as he stands up suddenly. picking you up and bending you over his desk, causing you to whine at the loss of contact before he hooked his fingers around the waistband of your sweats and pulled them down in one swift motion.

and then he does the same for him as he palms his growing erection in his hands with a soft groan, teasing your entrance for a moment before he slipped inside slowly taking pleasure in how you clenched around him. the both of you moaning as your breathing hitched, whimpering softly at how thick he seemed to feel inside you. even after so long it always took you by surprise just how he felt

"that what you wanted, lovie? you needed my cock just like that huh?" he coos with a chuckle, holding into your hips with a firm grip as he pulls you up and down on his cock. your response had been a whispered yes, gasping softly when the tip of his cock brushes against that special spot inside causing your body to arch in pure delight and for his grip to stumble slightly. he usually would've teased you but the warm feeling of you had his demeanor melting, he just didn't have it in him today. it really had been too long and he was just as desperate

he moves you once more, this time placing you on your back so he can look at the sweet faces you make in the height of your pleasure. it's a sight he could never grow tired of, a sight that makes him proud that he could bring you to this level. he hooks your legs above his shoulder, the new angle allowing him to hit a deeper spot inside you causing you to cling onto him, his name breathlessly leaving your lips in a plea. his hands coming over to hold onto your thighs, keeping you steady as the pace he sets speeds up slightly. his thrusts sloppy, a soft curse and a grunt falling from his lips as his hips become frantic needing this release just as much as you did.

"fuck that's it, cum f'me that's it" he praises feeling you tighten around him, feeling his own movements tremble as he gasped out softly coming closer nuzzling into your neck and chest leaving a trail of soft kisses in his wake.

and then he finally relaxes and releasing you slightly, leaning over to grab the washcloth to the side to clean you both up. it's not perfect but he's already made plans to head to the shower after as he holds onto you once more. sitting in his chair with you in his lap, the softest of smiles gracing his lips.

"that was perfect, did so good me love"

[rosesofenvy]

How Far We’ve Come - Music Theory Analysis

[Disclaimer: I went to university for music as a violin primary and have the most confidence with classical strings. I passed my piano proficiency courses, but that is the extent of my piano knowledge. It has been a few years since I have done an in-depth composition analysis of any piece, let alone transcribing a piece by ear and then analyzing it. Music theory has never been my strong suit! Please excuse any mistakes in notation, and any inaccuracies in my transcription or analysis. I did my best and this was purely for fun *shaky thumbs up*]

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

'How Far We’ve Come' by Harlan Guthrie is a duet between Grand Piano and Cello. This piece opens with solo piano, either in a pickup measure or in a single measure of 2/4 before transitioning to 4/4 time in measure 2. Throughout its entirety there are many moments of rubato which have been notated as ritardando and a subsequent a tempo. To most accurately follow the phrasing, listening to the recording is highly recommended.

This piece begins in the key of F#M or the enharmonic spelling of GbM. Although unpleasant to look at with either 6 sharps or 6 flats, depending on which spelling is followed, this key is often used by composers to invoke emotions of a conquest story, evoking relief, triumph, victory, and clarity. As we know from our story in Malevolent so far, this meaning is not lost on us. I have chosen to keep this piece as F#M since that is how I originally began transcribing it. I have also attached the GbM version at the end of the post, however all the analysis follows F#M spelling.

The lone piano begins on the third of our I chord with a hesitant, heavily rubato 8th note pickup into measure 1. The transition from measure to measure in this first phrase gains little confidence, especially with the transition from the pickup into m. 1 as this is the only instance in the piece where the set of 8th notes in the left hand do not lend itself into the next right hand pickup (four 8th notes instead of five). Each lead-in to the downbeat is stretched, pedal held throughout the measure to allow the sound to linger. Each press of the keys is deliberate, yet maintains a mezzo dynamic as the sound fades. m.2 is introduced with a vi chord, creating a hint of unease before resolving in m.3 to a IV(add7). We end our first phrase with a half cadence to a V chord, leading into a V7 as our next phrase begins with a B. 

As we enter our second phrase it is similar to our first with  m.5 beginning with a I chord, m.6 expands our vi chord compared to its first iteration, resulting in a more confident feel as we continue into m.7 with yet another expansion to our IV(add7). M.8 ends this phrase as we reach another half cadence V chord almost V7. 

Beginning m.9 the piece has a few possible paths of analysis, we arrive on a vi chord if we are remaining in F#M, which unlike our other initial starting phrases this throws us into a melancholic mood. There is a possibility of modulation to the relative minor (D#m), however I believe it remains in F#M and utilizes inversions of our chords and will continue with this assumption for the next phrase.

Remaining in F#M, m.10 could be a vi(4/2) inversion, or a I(6/4) inversion. Because Measure 11 moves to a ii chord, I believe it makes more harmonic sense for m.10 to be a vi(4/2) inversion as moving from a I(6/4) - ii is less common than a vi(6/4) to a ii. 

M.11 into m.12 is a fascinating progression. We have a V with the (g) in m.11, then we are descending to a Dnat, A#, E# progression. The Dnat is what has thrown me off the most, as it is a minor chord of sorts but doesn’t exist within our key of F#M, or relative D#m. The E# A# progression I believe is a I(4/2) chord, as it is leading us back into the next phrase. Even spelling enharmonically as a A#, Cx, E# chord it does not naturally occur within our existing key. After many hours of checking theory textbooks, writing out possible modulations, and playthroughs of the chords, I’m choosing to leave this as a V-I(4/2) progression and accepting my loss that I do not know what chord exists in the downbeat of m.12. However, I can say that resolving to something that is not a root tonic further creates this sense of melancholy.

Bringing us to our next phrase at m.13, similar to our previous phrase a vi chord but instead of resolving to an A# it resolves to the root D#. M.14 is identical to m.10 with the exception of the lower octave A#3 before resolving in m.15 to a ii chord until the fourth beat of the measure which leads us into measure 16 - resolving to a IV-V half cadence by the end of the measure. 

Reaching m.18 we are returning to our original phrase. This is where our cello enters for the duet, in which I have some observations about musicality first. As the piano is using a significant amount of pedal to sustain the sound, the cello utilizes a wide vibrato to create a warm sound. Notably, this doesn’t occur as significantly when entering with the lower notes. The cello is confident, encouraging the piano forward and maintaining a solid momentum even with the hesitance the piano has shown. 

M.18 we begin on a I chord, supported by the cello playing a low F# as the root. In the pause between phrases, it's as if you can feel the performers breathing together before they move to m.19, our vi(add7) chord. 

Measure 20 I have quite a bit to talk about. Stacked chord analysis is not my forte (pun intended). From what I could hear, there is a B1, F#2, B2, F#3 in the cello, while the piano continues with a IV(add7) chord. B1 is impossible to play on a cello with traditional tuning, in order to achieve this note they would have to tune their lowest string - their C string - down a half step. The chord B1/F#2/B2/F#3 is also impossible to play on a single instrument. If one cello tuned their C down to a B, then they could feasibly play the bottom chord, possibly the two B’s in octaves. It is possible for a cellist to play an F#/B/F# chord, however it would be uncomfortable and not result in a good tonality with it being a triple stop - but, the second cello could split the chord and play a different combination (F#2,B2 or B2,F#) with success. Other solutions to this could be having a double bass play the pedal B, as it would be within their ability on and remain in the correct octave, or having the piano cover the pedal B. This massive chord then resolves simply to a half cadence V chord in measure 21. 

Entering our last section, m.22, we return to a phrase similar to the beginning, with a confident I chord. With each measure we go to a more traditional chord progression to a V-IV-V in measures 23, 24, and 25 respectively. In an exciting turn of events, we land on a I chord in our final measure. The first PAC in the entire piece, and yet, it doesn’t sound as if the piece is finished. Throughout its entirety, all the phrases have been a form of inauthentic cadence. We end on a Perfect Authentic Cadence, a V-I, it should sound resolved. And yet, it continues on. The notes ring, and if left on repeat (as I have done for this analysis), it makes sense for it to continue. 

In conclusion, I believe this duet is in an general AABBAA format, with A being Major key tonality and B encompassing a minor key tonality. This piece is a conversation, it’s full of emotion and hesitance and is a fantastic representation of everything we’ve seen Arthur and John go through so far in the podcast. I can’t help but think of “I’ve come so far…and I have miles to go before I sleep” with this piece as a reflection of that. This composition is saying “Look, see how far we’ve come, what we’ve done to get here. How we’ve changed and grown.” All this to say, it’s an amazing story and an amazing composition. If you made it this far, I’m glad you came along in this musical journey with me and feel free to add anything I may have missed (or possibly mistaken). 

[baronessblixen]

Fictober Day 1: Pixelated Moments

Mulder appreciates Scully saving him after the video game debacle in "First Person Shooter" - and tells her so. (wc: 971), rating: T

Tagging @today-in-fic @xffictober24

She’s scrubbing at her face, hoping to get rid of the paint splatters that speak of their victory in the video game. After all, it could be blood. They could be, she realizes with a shudder, lying dead and cold in a morgue. They’re not. She’s here in the shower, trying to get rid of the paint and the ringing in her ears.

They got home half an hour ago, her muscles protesting as they walked upstairs to her apartment. Despite the hour, they ran into one of her neighbors, who just stared at them. They’ve long stopped asking questions. Tonight, she’s too tired to answer any of them anyway. That’s why she made Mulder write up the report. The thought of him sitting out there in her living room, still partly dressed in gaming gear, splotches of color on his face, typing away, puts a small smile on her face. Her face, she finds, is one of the few body parts that’s not sore.

Lucky her.

As the water drums down on her body and she realizes that she should probably leave some hot water for Mulder, too, she can’t shake the niggling feeling in the back of her mind. The Mulder she saw today, the one who was drooling like a dog over a video game character, and felt the need to blast the crap out of something, is a Mulder she’s unfamiliar with. After all these years together, he’s never shown that particular side of himself to her.

“Hey, you.” Mulder knocks softly against the shower door, surprising her. “Leave me some hot water, huh?”

“I’m almost done.” She closes her eyes and lets herself enjoy the warmth one more moment before she turns the water off. When she steps out, Mulder is there with a towel for her, while he’s stark naked. Unashamed as always. She mouths a thank you while she lets him wrap the towel around her body.

“That was good work,” he murmurs, touching her face. His finger follows the contours of her cheekbones where the paint splotches were just an hour ago. “I still look like a clown,” he finishes with a grin.

“You do.”

“I wasn’t talking about the paint, though. What you did in there- Scully, you were amazing.”

“That’s my job.” She tries to step away from him, but he stops her with a gentle touch on her elbow.

“Being amazing is your job?” He grins. “I’m serious, Scully. I would have been toast. We all would have been. You beat the game.”

“I didn’t. The kill command did.” Mulder shakes his head.

“Before that. You saved my ass.”

“Worth it,” she whispers with a raised eyebrow before she does something she’s always wanted, and never before dared. She gently slaps one of his ass cheeks, making him chuckle.

“Glad you think so. Before all my blood moves south, though, and I won’t be able to think with my actual brain anymore, let me just say thank you, all right?” She’s taken aback, staring up at him. He’s serious. He’s almost too serious. “I don’t say it often enough. I know you don’t understand the need to blast the crap out of something.”

“Maybe I do now.” His eyes grow wide. Only when it is to save him; but that remains her secret for now.

“You want to do it again?”

“No,” she says quickly.

“You were incredible,” he says with a sigh. “But that’s not – I’m glad you came in there, Scully. I’m glad that you saved my ass and probably will do so again next week or next month.”

“And you’ll save mine.”

“Oh yeah.” Up until now, he’s kept his hands to himself. Not anymore. The towel comes loose again and his hands make contact with her skin. Goosebumps appear where his fingers travel over her body. They wander from her shoulder over her arms, make a detour to her boobs, and finally land on her hips. Heat emanates off of Mulder and Scully wonders if he’ll even need hot water at all.

“I know I haven’t showered yet, but…,” he trails off, his mouth landing on hers. His tongue makes a compelling case; he’s teasing her, knowing she can’t resist his plush mouth and his taste. But there’s still that feeling in the back of her mind. She ends the kiss, and Mulder's mouth follows hers, until she puts a hand on his chest.

“Mulder, how often do you play video games?”

“Huh?”

“I didn’t even know you liked them.”

He shrugs before he loops his arms back around her. “I don’t. I play them sometimes with the Gunmen. Or used to. It was, well, call it a misguided sense of nostalgia.”

“I didn’t ask because I think you shouldn’t play them. I was just- it’s something I didn’t know about you.”

“And you were wondering if one of these weekends I was going to ask you if I could bring my Playstation? Don’t worry, Scully,” he says, leaving a soft kiss on her nose, “I won’t. I have better things to do with my hands.”

“Do you, now?” And she knows he does. Her body is well acquainted with his hands by now. She can’t get enough of his touch. Not now, not ever. His kisses become hungrier, and she realizes they’re walking backward, towards her bedroom. Mulder’s shower is forgotten, and she laughs softly as she comes face to face with the paint still on his face.

“You can help me wash it off.”

“Later,” she says, touching every paint splatter on his face, no matter how small. They tell a story, too. She wonders what else she’ll learn about Mulder. And what he’ll learn about her in the process. There are still so many stories to tell. Tonight, though, she wants to feel.

[athousandbyeol]

st(r)ay.

he dreamed of warm hugs. tender caresses on the crown of his hair. tidying the messy curls of his bangs behind reddening ears. and he would giggle. he would blush. he would have tears in his eyes. all good things. everything wonderful.

he dreamed of a pair of piercing eyes. that gaze was never directed at someone else but him. and he would replay that scenario every night, each scene was an animation against the emptiness of the ceiling—before he could remember how lonely his nights were before he came. because he was alive when those eyes were on him—he felt so seen.

and that infamous cold smile. he saw it through the haze in his vision and the daze in his mind. and he couldn't remember anything else but that smirk, the smugness of it all.

the roughness of his palms against the softness of his own. they flutter like broken butterfly wings. but still so mesmerising. when their fingers intertwined, he saw a splash of colour, in all shades of black and blue and grey and him.

sheng wang dreamed of jiang tian.

he saw jiang tian in the recesses of his imagination. there were tears in his eyes. they fell. and fell. but jiang tian was still quiet—why was he so silent?

and sheng wang tried reaching out. but the distance between them grew the more he crossed the forbidden line. jiang tian was untouchable. elusive. like the nightmare he had as a child. like the memories of his father's fading warmth on his skin, the conversations between them, tiki-taka. and by then, sheng wang realised, everything was in vain.

so he opens his eyes.

he opens his eyes and sees a shadow of light against jiang tian's face. his features gradually soften as the moonshine dances elsewhere, promising the stars to tango. and its darkness again, in all of its glory, bestowing on the sleeping jiang tian. but in sheng wang's vision, he has always been the brightest. nothing could ever compare to jiang tian's blinding shine.

oh.

and sheng wang feels the overwhelming urge to hold him. to embrace him. to be with him. because he has always been curious—those little touches were lethal, and sheng wang's already addicted. there's so much more in jiang tian that sheng wang wishes to desire. can he?

the sense of security washes over him like a growing tide, making his lungs tighten, and sheng wang could never forget how jiang tian made him feel.

and he feels so much. too much.

he could never forget how jiang tian made him be.

jiang tian is now drenched in red.

sheng wang knows this is a warning, a sign—don't. they sound like white noise in his ears, these no's and don'ts and pleas. sheng wang couldn't care less. because temptation has always been so delicious, and sheng wang's always a bit reckless.

so he leans closer. just enough to count the long lashes brushing against jiang tian's cheekbones, lulling him to sleep. just enough to remember the zeal of jiang tian's presence, ever-so-grounding, like an old tree under the pouring rain. just enough to understand that he loves.

he loves jiang tian so. he hopes jiang tian won't go.

his heart, oh, his poor heart. sheng wang believes that jiang tian could hear it. the roar. the growl. but maybe sheng wang wants jiang tian to listen. listen to the voice calling his name ever since—ever since he knew what wanting is—ever since he understood what loving is.

it's cold. so sheng wang pulls the blanket further up, covering both of them, sheltering them from the potent glare of these red lights. and when he breathes jiang tian in, sheng wang surrenders. he shudders.

don't leave me.

sheng wang shatters.

[clockways]

I love tumblr, seriously. The vibes of this site are unlike anywhere else.

We get polls and *immediately* make games out of them. We take something so simple and our first response is “how can we use this for fun and chaos”. And it’s not just a flippant thing. We get invested.

We’re ride or die for bug races.

We have a whole new vanilla extract meme that no other social media would understand.

We’re now combining it with our unique tagging system.

Like, my darlings, do you understand how special this is? If I was tenure track I could write a whole paper about this both on gamification and community play but also on social media structures. It would be a banger. And it would be so hard to make it accessible to a wider audience. The *history* you would need to try and cover. But my would it be a great paper topic.

[fallen-hero7]

The MHA vestiges/OFA holders make me so terribly ill.

they make me so sad. They make me so sad and I love them so much. All of them. From the first to the seventh. (I dont count All Might as a vestige since he isn't dead) . All of them died horribly (maybe not for Hikage since he just died of old age lmao loser died at 40 💀💀)

btw I made an AU with @rockin-it-rusty so read more to know (be careful, spoilers for after the finale war!)

We made an AU where after the war & the defeat of AFO & Shigaraki, the holders come back to life (since they all died because of AFO/OFA, and since both of it finally came to an end, I think it would be fair for the holders to finally get a fucking change at LIVING.) and they now have to adapt to the post-final war world & their new quirks (since they keep their evolved quirks ^^) & evolutions of society :)

I think a few points I would love to explore in this AU is the shear amount of angst you can get out of Nana coming back, ≈40 years after her death, still looking like the day she died(in her 20's) and meeting a 50+ years old Toshinori (y'know, her protégé? Her sorta adoptive son?) and her friend Sorahiko Torino who used to be her crime fighting partner and is now a senil(not really) old man. Imagine how devastated she can be. She knows that the man who put her friend in the hospital is her grandson. She knows they had to fight someone who shared her blood. Nana coming back to life has such amazing angst potential it's sickening.

Another point I wanna explore is the first user, Yoichi, Yoichi SHIGARAKI. You know.. AFO's brother? His twin? His blood? Yeahh. Yoichi coming back to a world destroyed by his brother. Not only does he grieve his brother, but he feels responsible for everything that has happened. Why does he gets to be alive again? Therapy might be needed here. Everyone HATES AFO, so why would anyone welcome him?

Then, we ofc have the fact that most(if not all) of the vestiges are WAR veterans who died HORRIBLE deaths. That means : nightmares, flashbacks, PTDS, potentially derealisation from their time as vestiges, paranoia and other mental illnesses/health issues. We also have : phantom pains!!! Phantom pain is really important since : En got sliced in two. He died losing half of his body and his right hand. He HAS to feel some kind of phantom pain even if they're back once he get resurrected; and Bruce got stabbed, having a gaping hole in his torso.. he had to be feeling some phantom pain too! Then, obviously, with Kudo & Nana getting choked, I can imagine that it would feel a certain way (choking is very easy, and the feeling of hands squeezing the life out of you is something you don't ever forget)...

we also have a few other ideas and stuff, so stay tuned ^^

[sunnysanji]

kaveh hates your new blanket. what he hates even more is that he's the one that bought it for you.

he thought it would be amazing. you'd seen it in a shop and you couldn't stop talking about how soft it was, how thick it was and how the weight would be so comforting on you. one point that he particularly liked about this was that it would comfort you in his absences, allowing you to sleep when he's up late working on sketches and new proposals.

so, he bought it as a birthday gift and surprised you with it early. he even bought a larger size one that allows you both to use it when in bed together. you were ecstatic, and he was so excited that you loved your first (of many) birthday gifts.

however, he stopped being excited when you liked it a little too much.

"sweetheart let me in," kaveh lightly chides, shivering from the exposure of his bare torso to the sharp chill of your bedroom.

"i'm too comfy and it's cold, just use one of the other blankets," you argue into the plush of the blanket, concluding the argument by snuggling deeper into the pillows and the warm of the blanket. he hates that he feels his heart warm up at the sight and butterflies start to tickle in his stomach at the sight in front of him. he loves you so much.

"baby i want to touch you."

"i'm not in the mood, try again tomorrow night," you giggle into the pillow.

"oh my- you know that's not what i mean." he says, exasperated. kaveh had such a long day and the only thing he was looking forward to throughout his entire day was coming home to cuddle you and steal kisses before falling asleep in each other's grasp. he can't help but be frustrated that you're denying him the one pleasure he's able to find in his life. and he knows you're doing it just to tease him. "i missed you so much today, baby. did you not miss me too?"

"i saw you this morning," you refute. kaveh struggles to find the path between his mind and his tongue, ultimately failing and choosing to just let out something between a loud sigh and a strangled groan. he stomps to the linen closet outside the bedroom door and yanks out the old duvet that was on your shared bed before the new blanket showed up.

he throws himself down on his side of the bed and wraps the duvet tightly around himself, tossing himself to pointedly face away from you.

"i'm donating that fucking blanket the second you wake up tomorrow morning."

he receives no answer. he only feels the spot next to him dip and shift before he feels the warm skin of your hand slipping into his duvet, going to wrap around his waist. you pull more of the duvet around yourself and fully pull your boyfriend into your embrace. he turns around in your hold to return the embrace and he buries his fingers into your hair.

"i knew you wouldn't last long," his voice is significantly softer.

"whatever. you got really upset i thought you were going to start crying." you punctuate your sentence with a kiss against his adam's apple and then his jaw.

he scoffs at you, but contradicts this with a kiss to your forehead and then your warm cheek and finally your awaiting lips.

"i will cry next time. and i am donating that stupid thing tomorrow."

"i love you, kaveh," you whisper into his neck, grinning against his skin.

"i love you too, sweetheart." kaveh sighs.

[selarina]

I have a suggestion! What are your thoughts on the reader helping high school kento build a birdhouse?

"You know one of these days you'll have to actually help, right?"

"I am helping," you frown as you stare at your nails. You're not really looking. It's merely a shield, a way to avert your eyes from his piercing eyes.

"You're..." His voice trails off as he lifts the cumbersome goggles up from his eyes, to see you perched on the marble slab. A figure so idle and bored-looking and yet, you make no means to contribute. "You're sitting.”

He seemed clearly frustrated, but you're who you are, and so you giggled.

"I am. I am sitting while providing you moral support. I’m the pretty view that will keep you from going insane over that birdhouse. There is beauty in this world, Nanami-san. There is joy,” you beam as you wrap up your speech.

"We don't have time for this. We need to submit this birdhouse by Monday," he sighs, his frustration evident in the furrow of his brow. "That's only 3 more days."

“Oh, come on. We've got plenty of time," you say, waving off his concerns with a nonchalant flick of your hand.

But he's not easily swayed. "Plenty of time? We haven't even finished painting it, let alone adding the final touches. And we still need to figure out how to stabilise the roof so it doesn't collapse under the weight of the two birds."

You lean back on your hands, letting out a dramatic weary sigh. "Fine, Nanami-kun. If you're so worried, I'll try and help. But you have to promise me one thing."

He raises an eyebrow, clearly skeptical. "What?"

"That you'll stop stressing out so much. It's just a birdhouse, not a spaceship," you tease, hoping to lighten the mood. "Oh, and that you'll buy me Mochi when we're done with an A+."

"I owe you nothing," he says, his arms crossed in defiance.

"Then I fear," you fake a frown. "I fear my legs just can't seem to reach the ground. You shall have to carry on without me." A tilt of your head, a pout on your lips. God, you're so annoying.

"I'll get you your Mochi," he concedes with a resigned shake of his head. "But only if we manage to finish this on time. And with an exemplary grade might I add."

"A+ and nothing less," you salute him as you hop off the counter. His eyes catch a glimpse of your skirt riding up before his eyes look away and move to the unfinished birdhouse.

---

Your heavy eyes threatened to lull, but you fought against it, you've slept for far too long. And it doesn't help that Nanami's hands are moving in soothing patterns against your back. Up and down, and a circle. Up and down, and a circle.

Your gaze strains to lift up, avoiding any movement that might disturb his lying form. He's already awake, so there's no fear of rousing him awake with your movement. No, your concern lies elsewhere — You're worried about moving, and having to start the day, and having to leave his arms. This is far too comfortable a moment to leave.

Your eyes drift across the room and settle on the red cage in the corner of the room. The cage seems to look a lot more lonelier in the dull light of this cold morning.

“I think he’s sad,” you murmur.

Your gaze remains fixed on the bird inside the cage. The love bird, now singular, was formerly a pair as they usually come. It's a horrible fate, you can't help but think.

“Obviously," came his terse reply.

You don't say anything, letting the silence join you both, you moved your hands on his chest. You repeat the familiar pattern. Up and down, and a circle. Up and down, and a circle.

“Do you think that’ll happen to you if I leave,” you ask, moments later.

“You’re not leaving," he says, quickly.

"No," you countered softly yet insistently. "No, of course not. I only meant if—"

"No," he cut in, his voice firm and resolute. Though his demeanor remained calm— as it often did— you felt his hand tighten around your waist.

You decided not to press further then.

"I think we need to pay more attention to it than usual," you suggested, redirecting the conversation to the love bird. "Else it'll die."

"Maybe that's better," he mused.

"Don't be silly," you chide gently. "He'll be alright. It's only been a week."

A week later, the love bird passed away, succumbing to a broken heart, as the veterinarian confirmed.

Three years have passed since, and you find yourself thinking back to that morning. He's the one who's gone now, his body finding the same soil as the two love birds.

You suppose you're the one who has to answer now.

[hells-plaid-angel]

Destiel Pride: Day 3 & 4 - For the First Time I Feel & Devine Purpose

[sheepstiel]

so I wrote a tiny fic in which dean prepares cas for his date with nora in episode 9x06 with some intricate chapstick rituals. can't let your buddy kiss a girl with chapped lips, huh? It's basically 2.6k of unresolved sexual tension. just buddies helping each other out by staring at each other's lips. you can read it here :)

[aimbutmiss]

Buggy sighed in frustration as he clenched another important document that he absolutely couldn't care less about as he tried to make sense of the words on it. Crocodile rolled his eyes at his "dramatic theatrics", as he put it. And while Buggy did indeed hold the sigh a bit longer than necessary, he could argue it was a very justified reaction. The words on the paper were basically alphabet soup in his brain as it completely shut down, unable to process any more information.

He rubbed his eyes as if that would somehow fix the problem. He felt closer to death with every second he spent inside the dreary office tent. The room was suffocating, filled with the smoke of Crocodile's never ending cigars. Buggy desperately needed fresh air and exposure to direct sunlight, or a poor crew member was going to find his corpse under all those papers by the end of the day.

"Croccy, it's been hours... How many more signatures do you need from me?"

Crocodile puffed out the smoke in his mouth as he spoke, making the air in the tent even heavier. Buggy had to hold himself back from coughing as he kept his eyes locked to the other man's unimpressed ones. "You're the one who insisted on reading all the documents when I already had done so. You could have just quickly signed all of them and left by now if you weren't so stubborn."

"Of course I have to read them! How can I trust you? You could be making me sign away my life to the slave trade for all I know!"

Crocodile laughed menacingly, the only way he knew how, as far as Buggy had seen. "No one would pay good money for you, clown. And if I wanted to sell you off I would have done it by now."

Buggy crossed his arms with a frown, ready to argue with his business partner, but he was cut by a low-ranking worker entering the tent reluctantly.

"I'm saved." He thought as Crocodile got up to talk to the poor man. He took the moment to sneak outside, limb by limb. As he put himself back together outside of the tent, he took the sunlight in with a sigh and cracked his back in relief. He was unfortunately too old and certainly too sexy for an office job. Being an Emperor was supposed to be more flashy than this god dammit!

He locked eyes with the shaky man as he left the tent, and gave him a reassuring smile. The man visibly relaxed, smiling wide as he bowed down before leaving Buggy's presence.

Buggy hated how much Crocodile ruled by fear. These were his men! He was responsible for their well-being and happiness! Well, he couldn't even protect his own well-being so how could he do the same for his enormous crew...

"Don't think so hard, your head will explode."

Buggy jumped in his place as Crocodile spoke in his ear. Too close! When had he snuck up on him? He was too tired to deal with this.

"I'm gonna go now."

"Not before you sign the papers."

"I'm tired..."

"Then don't read them."

"But I want to!"

"THEN GET BACK IN THERE!" Crocodile pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to keep his cool after his outburst. "Okay, you either go in willingly or I'll drag you in there myself if I have to." He moved his hook at an angle, making the light reflect off its sharp edge menacingly. And Buggy probably should have listened, but something snapped in him.

"Stop threatening me with that damn hook of yours! You know I can't get cut."

"But you can get pierced, can't you?"

Buggy gulped, sweat forming on his forehead but not daring to drop. "... You wouldn't dare."

"And why's that?"

"Because..." Buggy stared the scary man in the eyes and was somehow overcome with boldness he couldn't explain. "Because this" he gestured to his face with exaggerated motion "is what sells your shitty personality to everyone!" He was spitting out the words like venom, emphasising every word slowly. "You need me. Certainly more than I need you. You're just an overgrown accountant, but I'm a fucking Emperor. I leave, and the thousands of men under me also leave. You are nothing without me. So stop acting like you can get rid of me without consequences. I dare you to pierce me with that hook."

"..."

Buggy smiled smugly. "I'm gonna take a nap now."

He was lighter than a feather as he made his way to his tent, the smile never dropping from his face. He did it! Well, he wasn't quite free but it was certainly a step in the right direction. And sue him, he was fucking proud of himself.

As he left with his head in the clouds, he was completely unaware of the scene he left behind him. Crocodile was fuming. He felt hot with anger and another annoying, sticky emotion eating at his insides. He completely ignored Mihawk, who had been a witness to the whole conversation.

The swordsman raised a brow in question at the man's silence. "What are you gonna do now, go masturbate?"

Crocodile stared daggers at the man before turning into sand and flowing away. And he absolutely did not masturbate to thoughts about the clown. Ridiculous Hawk Eye really thought he knew everything...

(and he did.)