#like do your do and teach students with every tool you have

[boysnberriespie]

Kind of annoyed with the amount of creative writing professors that get online and are like “ALL of my students can’t do this!!! We’re doomed!!” And they just describe writing style changes 😩 Hmm maybe consider that literary norms and styles are changed and affected by time and societal experiences/expectations, and you are just… from a different generation

[margridarnauds]

Sometimes I wonder…what is going on with my supervisor because like. Last year he didn’t want me to attend the Big Once a Year Conference and this year I wasn’t *able* to and…I have friends who are negotiating postdocs with this conference with senior scholars. I have friends who HAVE gotten postdocs. While he’s telling me to not focus on getting back to Europe when… I’m not even being allowed to TRY.

[fallstaticexit]

Prev / Next / Beginning / Pillowfort

AN: Next update will post Monday the 23rd , same time and same place! Going to start working on updating my game etc. <3

Transcript under the cut

Siobhan: There you are! Our guest of honor tucked away in the corner. You’re not hiding, are you?

Nancy: I never really liked crowds.

Siobhan: That won’t do, Nancy. Come. Lets chat.

Siobhan: You know, the way you handled Becca the other night is admirable. I wouldn’t have done anything less if it were my man she was pawing after.

Nancy: Listen, I’m not a violent person. I shouldn’t have hit her.

Siobhan: It hardly matters. It’s about respect.

Siobhan: You have the means to be the most powerful woman in the world. Your family runs a multi million dollar company. Your name is on every recognizable building across the globe. Girls like Becca will dream of the day they can write you a check so she can raise her brood of rowdy children in one of your flawlessly designed properties.

Siobhan: You’re a star, Nancy. It’s time you show everyone what it means to be a Landgraab. You can start by becoming a Theta.

Siobhan: By the way, your mother just arrived!

Nancy: Hello Mother.

Queenie: Nancy.

Nancy: Father couldn’t make it?

Queenie: No, I’m afraid he’s tied up in a prior engagement. Besides, I try not to bore him with my personal affairs. [murmurs] How provocative, these pieces.

Queenie: So you’ve made friends with the daughter of an adulterer. Is that what you thought would impress me? Well, at least she’s proactive. Your lack of involvement in any clubs or organizations shows just how lazy you are. It’s almost as if we’ve sent you to university to piss away our money yet again. When will you prove to me that you’re worth half the trouble you put your father and me through? And for the love of God, stop biting your nails! It’s disgusting.

Professor Munch: -right, Nancy?

Nancy: I’m sorry, what was that?

Professor Munch: This model is absolutely stunning! Marvelous, even.

Nancy: R-really? Thank you, Professor.

Professor Munch: Ah! No wonder! Your drawings are very compelling. The way you blend functionality with aesthetics is brillant! A true prodigy!

Professor Munch: I am very proud of you, Nancy. Keep it up.

Nancy: Hi Professor. I know I’m a little early for office hours, but I really wanted your thoughts on my blueprints.

Professor Munch: Nancy! Are you kidding! Anything for my star pupil. Take a seat.

Professor Munch: If I’m being honest, I don’t have much critique.

Nancy: Staying on top of my grades is really important to me. My GPA is 3.7 but I know I can do more to improve. I can do better-

Professor Munch: [huffs affectionately] Nancy! You are my brightest and best student! I’d say it’s in your blood. I haven’t seen such vision and passion in my student’s work since I taught your brother.

Nancy: Nathan was your student?

Professor Munch: Oh, Nathan was my star! In the short time I spent with him, he has shown me what true artistry looks like. That kid had an eye for detail. He always spoke so fondly of his little baby sister, Nan; he’d call you. [sighs] I miss him dearly.

Professor Munch: I thought of quitting and getting back into the field after he passed. I was devastated when I found out about the accident. My partner pushed me to continue teaching. She knew there was nothing I loved more than handing the tools to brillant kids like you and Nathan to shape our future.

Nancy: Partner? [frowns] Your...partner?

Professor Munch: Monica. We were roommates in college and have been stuck to each other like glue since!

Nancy: So, she’s your best friend?

Professor Munch: Oh certainly. My best friend, my muse, my partner.

Nancy: What about your husband?

Professor Munch: Husband?

Nancy: I- sorry. Nevermind.

Professor Munch: Talk to me, dear. What’s on your mind?

Nancy: I guess I don’t understand. You’re wearing a ring but you have no photos of your husband. You seem...close with her, in the photo.

Professor Munch: I was married once. We have three children together. Sweetest man alive. We’re still friends to this day. We both realized that we had our hearts in different places. In the end, I had my Monica. My soulmate.

Nancy: [sobs quietly]

Professor Munch: Oh, no. Nancy? Dear, are you alright?

Professor Munch: [softly] Oh, sweet darling. You’re hurting, aren’t you? Can I hold you? Is that ok?

Nancy: [nods once]

Professor Munch: You let it all out, you hear me? Just let it all out. I got you.

Nancy Narrates: [I wondered what kind of person I’d be had my mother held me like this]

Professor Munch: There’s a small club that I support that meets every Friday in the commons. I think you should stop by.

Nancy: Thank you Professor but, I think I’ve already decided to join a sorority.

Professor Munch: I’ll tell you what, it’s not something you have to join or commit to, but I think there’s something to gain by coming. Plus, there’s someone I’d like you to meet. You two have a lot in common.

Morgan: Holy shit, hey! It’s Nancy Landgraab! Get over here!

[erinwantstowrite]

opinions on ai?

This is the perfect time to share something I wrote a few months ago when I was upset about it:

AI is the bane of my existence and I hate it so much. Not only because of the environmental impact that it has, but because of how it gives us absolutely nothing of value in creative spaces and is actually a detriment to our future, rather than being "innovative" like companies want us to believe.

If you're using AI to write notes for you, or to answer questions, to write your essays and your discussion posts, you are hurting yourself. But eventually you will hurt others with your willing ignorance. You are not learning, you are not taking the time to push yourself to new bounds. You are not absorbing the information you need, and for why? Because it's hard? Life is hard. Learning is hard. If learning was easy, you wouldn't be learning anything at all. And one day when you need to use these tools you put down and gave to a program in order to do your job, you are going to get someone hurt in some way. If you're going into teaching and you didn't bother to learn about childhood development because you let an AI take your notes because you couldn't be half-assed to sit through an hour long lecture, you will fail every student that comes your way. If you're an engineer and you had AI do the math for you, something that you make will break and it could kill someone. Because the AI can not even count how many times the letter 'r' is in strawberry, but you're trusting it to make bridges or design buildings?

And in a creative sense, you are not an artist if you use AI. I will scream it from the rooftops if I have to.

You are not an artist if you use AI.

Because to be an artist is to put your very soul into what you create. And an AI has no soul. To be an artist is to lay yourself bare for people to witness and interpret, and it's scary but it's freeing. To be an artist is to make a message with your art, to have people a thousand years from now sit in a museum and feel connected to who you were so far in the past. To think that humanity may be different but we are also inherently the same. To be an artist is to despair over the process of creating your art because it's difficult, and time consuming, and damn does it drive you crazy. But then you get that end result and you realize you learned something about yourself, you got better at something that brings you joy, you created and now you see what you are capable of, and what you will be capable of in the future. To be an artist is to connect with someone because of what you made, and that someone includes yourself.

We keep telling young artists that they need to be better now, they need to quit if they aren't good at it on the first try. We keep acting like we didn't start from somewhere ourselves, like we were born with the fine motor skills and the talent needed to create. It's because our attention spans can't handle over 20 seconds and we need multiple videos playing to drown out our own thoughts. We have to look at comment sections to see the court of public opinion before we make a judgement ourselves. If anything is out of the ordinary or doesn't look the way we expect or want, it must be shamed. And this existence is exhausting because at the end of the day, we have done nothing of value. When coming across a video of a young artist who took the time out of their day to create, we need to encourage them to continue going, tell them that their work is worthy. Because it is. It is worthy because they made it. If we shoot them down before they can go anywhere, we've just killed an artist that could have painted the next Starry Night, or created a sculpture that millions of people would try to visit. We've shot down someone who could teach others how to create one day in their future. We shot them down and killed their inspiration and motivation, and they might turn to someone else to do it for them because they will believe they are not worthy enough or talented enough to make it.

When I was still in school, my favorite part of the year was seeing the projects put up on the wall. The silly displays our teachers put up to show a holiday with slightly wonky paper snowflakes, the posters that the art students made with "too many lightning bolts around the guitar", the signs for school dances, the yearbooks that students spent all year making, the English class posters that depicted scenes from what they were reading and they were made with stick figures or they had someone draw out butterflies. I loved seeing the decorations for Homecoming Week, loved looking ta the booths that everyone made for our career and science fairs. I liked when we put on talent shows still, when we did pep rallies and fashion shows and we saw everyone get together to have fun and not care if it was "perfect." No one there was a professional artist, not yet, but that didn't make it any less entertaining or creative.

We dance because we want to feel how our bodies move and express ourselves in ways words cannot. We paint and we draw and make pottery and quilts and pictures because at one point, all we had were cave paintings of our hands, and we still look at them with reverence for where we started. We sing and we drum and we laugh because music is a universal language that anyone can understand, and isn't that breathtaking? We write so that people in the future can pour themselves over our words and learn from us, so that kids can hide their books underneath their covers with a little flashlight when their parents put them to bed hours ago but they just can't put our story down they have to know what comes next! We cook for our loved ones and have family recipes that mean we've been tasting the same food that our family we never got to meet were eating too.

We create because humans are meant to create. We put our love into the process, we put our dreams and our hopes and our hard earned lessons into these creations.

AI will never have that. AI has none of the process, and therefore, it is not art. We can gripe about how art has different meanings all we want, we can shout that art is only art if it invokes an opinion or a thought, but that is not what makes art. Because there is still effort put into placing a shoe on a pedestal, or painting a yellow square, or painting a mural on a wall, or writing poetry in a tiny notebook at school, or melting crayons together, or anything that requires you putting it together. If AI is doing all the work for you, then you've accomplished nothing. And you stole from the people that actually did accomplish something. You stole not only their effort, but you stole their process, their feelings, their hope and their dreams and their ideas of the future.

AI is nothing and will ultimately become obsolete. Because humans will not stop creating just because companies are pushing for us to stop and hand it over to them. They want us to stop creating, they want us to pay them for it, they want us to put blind trust into what they're doing, they want us to forget that they are stealing from us. I will not forget. I will never forget. Because I was born to sing and dance and write and draw and cook, and when I die, my body will go right back to the Earth and perhaps flowers will grow around my grave. I will still be creating even then. And even if AI is still around and still trying to steal from us, I will die knowing that it could never do the same.

[vienssunshine]

Thoughts on soft dom noritoshi kamo?

I’m a sucker for him and it’s like no one else relates AHH

author’s note: He does not get enough love!! I remember seeing him in the anime and being like, wait, why is no one obsessed with him?

Noritoshi is incredibly picky about his lover. His spouse needs to be perfect if he’s going to become the head of the Kamo clan. There’s been many women of other distinguished clans his family has tried to set him up with, but no one stuck out to him. No one ever has. That is, until you transferred to Kyoto’s Jujutsu High.

You’re a new student that’s old enough to be a third-year like him, but you’ve been bumped down to a second-year as your sorcery powers awakened a little later than usual.

In hopes of not getting you killed on your first mission, Utahime assigns a student to mentor you. She chooses the most responsible and level-headed of the young sorcerers: Noritoshi Kamo.

He’s a student she can trust, someone she knows will be able to help you navigate the confusing world of Jujutsu and blossom into a formidable sorcerer. Only, she hasn’t accounted for one thing: Noritoshi has developed a crush on you.

That little fact makes it hard for Noritoshi to spend so much alone time with you, which it feels like is all he does. He studies with you, eats with you, reads with you. Training with you is the worst of it all, he has trouble remembering to check your form rather than check out your body when you try out a new move for him.

It was especially terrible when you asked him to go on a walk during the sunset, to discuss the new concepts you’ve been learning with him, of course. Though, all he could think of was how much he wanted to do this with you every evening for the rest of his life.

He’s noticed that you seem to enjoy his company, too. You have a habit of tugging on the draping fabric of his uniform’s sleeves when you’re trying to convince him to do something with you, which is pretty much all the time.

It’s what you’re doing now, looking up at him with your pretty eyes and trying to get him to follow you.

“C’mon,” you whine, “I have a question about a cursed tool I saw.”

He has some time before his next class starts, and also finds it difficult to deny a pretty girl like yourself, so he agrees and follows you to the weapons room.

Though, when you arrive, you close the door behind you, leaning against it and watching him with a heavy gaze.

Noritoshi looks around the dark room with walls of blades and blunt objects. “Is there something you wanted me to help you with?” he asks, like the good mentor he is.

“Yes, there is,” you respond, voice silken. You tug at your uniform, allowing the top of your shirt to come loose and expose your skin to the light of the lanterns hanging from the ceiling.

It takes him a second, but Noritoshi steps forward. He wants to make sure that he’s not confusing his dreams with reality or misunderstanding what you’re saying. “Tell me how I can help,” he says.

You give him a bashful smile, playing with the opened collar of your uniform. “I want you to touch me, Noritoshi.”

“So clear with your words,” he says, bringing a hand up to your warm face, stroking your cheek, “I’ve been teaching you well.”

You nod, a tingly feeling sparking in your stomach.

“I could teach you more, y’know,” he says, tilting his head and leaning forward so his lips ghost the shell of your ear, “but you would have to be a really good listener. Can you do that for me?”

“Mhmm,” you say, arms wrapping around his broad shoulders.

“Alright,” he says, hands unbuttoning your top further, “Then I’m going to teach you how it feels to be fucked by a Kamo.”

[rebeccathenaturalist]

An App Does Not a Master Naturalist Make

Originally posted on my website at https://rebeccalexa.com/app-not-master-naturalist/ - I had written this as an op-ed and sent it to WaPo, but they had no interest, so you get to read it here instead!

I have mixed feelings about Michael Coren’s April 25 Washington Post article, “These 4 free apps can help you identify every flower, plant and tree around you.” His ebullience at exploring some of the diverse ecological community around him made me grin, because I know exactly what it feels like. There’s nothing like that sense of wonder and belonging when you go outside and are surrounded by neighbors of many species, instead of a monotonous wall of green, and that is a big part of what led me to become a Master Naturalist.

When I moved from the Midwest to the Pacific Northwest in 2006, I felt lost because I didn’t recognize many of the animals or plants in my new home. So I set about systematically learning every species that crossed my path. Later, I began teaching community-level classes on nature identification to help other people learn skills and tools for exploring their local flora, fauna, and fungi.

Threeleaf foamflower (Tiarella trifoliata)

Let me be clear: I love apps. I use Merlin routinely to identify unknown bird songs, and iNaturalist is my absolute favorite ID app, period. But these tools are not 100% flawless.

For one thing, they’re only as good as the data you provide them. iNaturalist’s algorithms, for example, rely on a combination of photos (visual data), date and time (seasonal data), and GPS coordinates (location data) to make initial identification suggestions. These algorithms sift through the 135-million-plus observations uploaded to date, finding observations that have similar visual, seasonal, and location data to yours.

There have been many times over the years where iNaturalist isn’t so sure. Take this photo of a rather nondescript clump of grass. Without seed heads to provide extra clues, the algorithms offer an unrelated assortment of species, with only one grass. I’ve gotten that “We’re not confident enough to make a recommendation” message countless times over my years of using the app, often suggesting species that are clearly not what I’m looking at in real life.

Because iNaturalist usually offers up multiple options, you have to decide which one is the best fit. Sometimes it’s the first species listed, but sometimes it’s not. This becomes trickier if all the species that are suggested look alike. Tree-of-Heaven (Ailanthus altissima), smooth sumac (Rhus glabra) and eastern black walnut (Juglans nigra) all have pinnately compound, lanceolate leaves, and young plants of these three species can appear quite similar. If all you know how to do is point and click your phone’s camera, you aren’t going to be able to confidently choose which of the three plants is the right one.

Coren correctly points out that both iNaturalist and Pl@ntNet do offer more information on suggested species—if people are willing to take the time to look. Too many assume ID apps will give an easy, instant answer. In watching my students use the app in person almost everyone just picks the first species in the list. It’s not until I demonstrate how to access the additional content for each species offered that anyone thinks to question the algorithms’ suggestions.

While iNaturalist is one of the tools I incorporate into my classes, I emphasize that apps in general are not to be used alone, but in conjunction with field guides, websites, and other resources. Nature identification, even on a casual level, requires critical thinking and observation skills if you want to make sure you’re correct. Coren’s assertion that you only need a few apps demonstrates a misunderstanding of a skill that takes time and practice to develop properly—and accurately.

Speaking of oversimplification, apps are not a Master Naturalist in your pocket, and that statement —while meant as a compliment–does a disservice to the thousands of Master Naturalists across the country. While the training curricula vary from state to state, they are generally based in learning how organisms interact within habitats and ecosystems, often drawing on a synthesis of biology, geology, hydrology, climatology, and other natural sciences. A Master Naturalist could tell you not only what species you’re looking at, but how it fits into this ecosystem, how its adaptations are different from a related species in another ecoregion, and so forth.

Map showing Level III and IV ecoregions of Oregon, the basis of my training as an Oregon Master Naturalist.

In spite of my criticisms, I do think that Coren was absolutely onto something when he described the effects of using the apps. Seeing the landscape around you turn from a green background to a vibrant community of living beings makes going outside a more exciting, personal experience. I and my fellow nature nerds share an intense curiosity about the world around us. And that passion, more than any app or other tool, is fundamental to becoming a citizen naturalist, Master or otherwise.

Did you enjoy this post? Consider taking one of my online foraging and natural history classes or hiring me for a guided nature tour, checking out my other articles, or picking up a paperback or ebook I’ve written! You can even buy me a coffee here!

[h0lyfrypan]

comforting satoru in the months after the night parade of a hundred demons. you are a former classmate, who graduated alongside satoru and shoko. despite being shot down for months, you persist on trying to comfort him.

mourning, character death, no dialogue, implied satosugu if you squint. ur both not ok. i wrote this because i rely on dialogue too much. it's super short!

Satoru had changed—there was no doubt. After the Night Parade of a Hundred Demons, something inside him broke for good. Both of you had quietly hoped Suguru would return, that somehow he could avoid punishment. That day never came, despite years of waiting, and now it never would.

You vividly recall the day your cell phone rang, breaking Satoru's usual pattern of self-reliance. He was a natural at almost everything he tried (it seriously was a piss off), but on the other end of the line was a broken man. He didn’t need to voice the words; you had an innate understanding. It was always that way between you two. You knew Suguru was gone.

Satoru Gojo had a knack for keeping people at arm's length. He was 'the Strongest,' and he didn't appreciate how you could always sense when something troubled him. Your eyes softened when you were alone, the subtle checks to ensure he ate, and your consistent efforts to reach out—through letters, texts, or in person. You knew his Infinity would hinder you, but you persisted. With every brick he placed to build up his walls, you were on the other side with your own set of tools; a determined demolitionist.

The period after was a blur. Was it days? Weeks? Months? Time seemed meaningless as you sat in the morgue with Shoko, the only other person who truly comprehended what Satoru might be going through—but she was mourning, too. After all, you were once classmates and friends. The way she chain-smoked in silence, her lack of words mirrored yours. Occasionally, Satoru joined you both, but he and Shoko only discussed business. He didn't engage with you- and Shoko just wasn't as emotionally attuned as you, and that was okay, you’d never hold that against her. Everyone plays different roles in this world.

It was a while before you truly heard from Satoru again. He had a way of presenting himself as fine, radiating happiness—especially in front of his students. He engaged with them, laughed, stirred up mischief, yet emotionally, he maintained a distance. It concerned you that no one else seemed motivated to try and reach him. Perhaps they weren't as naive as you, believing they could break through. His request for you to watch his house for a few days puzzled you. It seemed unnecessary; surely he could afford to hire someone. Nonetheless, you agreed.

His apartment was cold, barebones, and modern. It suited him—a man rarely at home. Just a space for sleep when he wasn't teaching or battling curses across the country. Old clothing lay strewn about, a few dishes scattered. The ambiance felt solitary. You wondered: was he truly living, or merely existing?

Hours passed, time an elusive, unreachable concept lately. Being here for a few days justified sorting his clothes into the hamper and doing some dishes. There was nothing better to occupy your time, and he might appreciate the gesture. While rinsing cups in hot, soapy water, your mind wandered. Perhaps if you'd been closer to Suguru, you might know how to help Satoru now. Maybe Suguru could have shared the secret, but likely there was none. Suguru wasn't you, and you weren't him. Their bond was special, something you couldn't grasp. That wasn't necessarily bad, though it felt so—Ouch! Your hand under the scalding water snapped you out of that train of thought (maybe for the best).

Cold water relieved the small burn. You searched for bandages around the apartment, not eager to rummage but forced by the forming blister on your finger. As you explored cupboards and shelves, thoughts circled back to Satoru. While tending to your wound on the couch, a question arose: did Satoru always feel this way? When 'the Strongest' is down, who's there to pick him up?

Grieving for Suguru lately made you furious. Did Suguru not comprehend Satoru's willingness to let him return? That Satoru would have done anything to anyone to ensure his safe return to Jujutsu Society?  Suguru's flawed philosophies often left you contemplating and upset. Blaming a dead man for everything was too easy, but unjust.

Surveying the showroom-like apartment, your frustration grew and you teared up. You weren't Suguru, you weren’t strong– but maybe you were strong enough to lift Satoru—if only he allowed it.

Satoru had convinced himself there was no one else. Back in high school, he accepted it. There would never be anyone like Suguru Geto—no one coming close to understanding the weight he bore. To be a weapon before a human, a tool with a face, a means to an end. Yet, you persisted. He detested (perhaps a strong word) how you saw through him, how deeply you cared.

In truth, he wanted that. He just wished it didn't feel so vulnerable. He wasn't meant to be vulnerable—or that's what he felt. He appreciated every ignored text, every rejected hug, every lunch left on his desk at Jujutsu Tech, but fear overwhelmed him. How did you see through him so effortlessly? How could he be sure you wouldn’t leave?

He resented himself for not letting you in. He wanted to, truly, but the walls he built didn't just bar others out; they trapped him too. Coming home to find you asleep on the couch, curled up, blanketless and tear-stained, changed something. Maybe it was your unintended display of vulnerability, the secluded setting, or his own exhaustion. The reason mattered little.

With care to be quiet, he slipped into his bedroom, retrieving the comforter from his bed—the sole blanket in the apartment—and gently draped it over your sleeping figure. Kneeling by your side, he gently wiped away the tear stains from your cheek. It had been a long time since he allowed himself to touch you, or anyone for that matter. His breath caught when you stirred, your eyes meeting his. For once, you were unobstructed by any blindfold or infinity.

Without hesitation, you shifted from the cushion, pulling him into your arms, guiding his head to rest against your neck. He loathed this—knowing you understood his unspoken desires, yet grateful he didn't have to verbalize them. This vulnerability was taxing enough. He reciprocated, wrapping his arms around you.

And then, he cried.

It felt awful, comforting, almost amusing. Only a few silent tears fell before he composed himself, easing into your embrace as best he could from their awkward position. He almost chuckled at himself—for all the fear he harbored about opening up, finding such reassurance in your arms made it seem absurd. Shifting slightly, he settled back on the couch, intertwining both of your limbs and enveloping both of you in the blanket.

As you moved to speak, he gently hushed you with a finger to your lips. You understood, as you always did—this wasn't something he wanted acknowledged aloud. Bodies pressed together, his head nestled against your chest, holding onto you so tightly it felt as though you might meld into one. He was utterly exhausted.

Time remained elusive, now for a different reason. Your fingers combing through his soft hair, the sweet scent of his shampoo lingering in the air. The rhythm of your breathing and heartbeats creates a tempo for this rare and peculiar intimacy. For the first time in ages, perhaps since high school, Satoru didn't feel like 'the Strongest’. He felt painfully human, finding safety in your embrace.

This apartment, that was never quite a home, suddenly felt like one in your arms.

[thecoolblackwaves]

Family Of Nerds: Feanorian Modern AU

(I’m sorry this is somewhat Americanized I just don’t have enough knowledge about anywhere else to make those allusions) (Also please reblog with your own headcanons or other thoughts!)

Feanor 

Philologist; studies language history

Often assists at various museums, colleges, archeological sites, etc

Has published several books and given many lectures 

Creates his own languages like Tengwar for fun, also is a hobby blacksmith

Teaches his children many archaic languages no one else speaks and takes his family on "educational" vacations 

Also attends every convention known to man, even ones that have seemingly nothing to do with his own interests, dressed to the nines and spends his time there signing books and debating other people 

Loves his wife just as madly as the day he met her and is ecstatic he married his high school sweetheart

Idolizes his father. Would have done great following his political career if he hadn't "ruined" his public image by becoming a teen parent, ultimately feels he's made the right decisions for his life though and is happy with his work

Rivalry with Fingolfin over who can host the best dinner party (and you best believe he wears smart-ass punny aprons while cooking a six course meal for his guests)

Nerdanel 

Professional sculptor and multimedia artist

Teaches classes at an arts college 

Is known to eat the fruit out of the bowls her students are sketching when no one is looking

Cannot cook to save her life 

Enthusiastically attends every possible event in her family’s calendar no matter the weather or lack of skill at a toddler dance recital 

Dresses in a fabulously bohemian eccentric artist way; stole the show when she attended the Grammys with Makalaure and has been featured in several fashion magazines 

Carries all sorts of art supplies and seemingly random tools in her purse at all times, including a chisel, googly eyes, edible glitter, a bajillion hair ties, DW40, and peanut M&Ms

Has a calm, wise disposition that belies her truly chaotic nature

Often looked to for advice from her students and children and will only pull your leg when she thinks you’re being stupid 

Does give genuinely good advice though, mostly because she is uncanny in her ability to read people and observe subtle hints 

Maitimo

Studied communications, currently working as his father’s apprentice but hopes to find a position as a public relations specialist 

Uses his intimidating stature and loud, deep voice to his advantage as needed

Was born while his parents were teenagers and still living with their families, he remembers watching cartoons with Grandpa Finwe and being babysat by his uncles 

Also attended his mother’s graduation from art school as a small child and clapped until his little hands hurt 

Is painfully aware of how all his younger brothers look up to him - literally - and sometimes struggles with the pressures of setting a good example, though he does much better than he realizes 

Drinks his coffee from a mug that reads “don’t make this ginger snap” (Nerdanel has a matching one)

The gayest gay to ever gay, informs everyone of this via cheesy tee shirts gifted from his brothers and cousins 

Drives a minivan, claims he chose it because it was the only car that would fit his legs and not because he can haul his brothers around in it 

Frequently complains about missing the technology of his childhood but resents being called a millennial 

Makalaure 

Grammy award winning artist and composer

Created the score for a recent movie that bloomed his popularity and brought him to the limelight 

Has a Youtube channel with several music videos he definitely didn’t blackmail his family into filming with him 

Also performed on Broadway once and will not let you forget it 

Used to skip school to busk in the train station and once caught his math teacher also skipping school 

Extremely popular with interviewers, camera crew, and other industry specialists for his kindness and crazy stories about his family 

Donates large amounts of his royalties to children’s hospitals and other charities 

Used to hog the bathroom in the mornings to put on makeup and style his hair 

Practices Beyonce dance routines in the mirror, has convinced Curufin to do them with him before 

Spent a semester studying in Sydney, Australia and fainted after encountering a large spider in his dorm room 

Tyelkormo

Forest ranger at a National Park 

Works at outdoor summer camps every year, all the children love him and his giant fluffy dog

Also volunteers at animal shelters and the wildlife rehabilitation center at the National Park 

Creatine for breakfast, lunch, and dinner; drinks so much milk Nerdanel used to tell him it was why his hair was white 

Wakes up at 5 in the morning to exercise (disgusting)

Got a long bow for Christmas one year (the note said Santa but he knows it was his mom) and practices in the backyard by shooting at Amrod’s pumpkins 

Metalhead, particularly likes viking metal and Nordic black metal 

Made Huan his own battle vest complete with dog-themed patches such as “Bad to the Bone” and “No Leashes No Masters” 

Tells the most terrible jokes you’ve ever heard then laughs like a seagull vomiting up a stolen bag of Doritos 

Extremely loyal to his family, sometimes to a fault 

Carnistar

Professional business accountant 

Also does taxes as a side hustle because “it’s so easy” 

Is obsessed with Oreos but will not admit it because of his brother's teasing about "Moryo's Oreos" 

Obligatory family goth and not ashamed of it 

Started mending his hand-me-down clothes as a necessity and got into sewing, now makes fantastic garments for his family and friends to wear 

Halloween is the only valid holiday, he spends the entire year making his costume (it’s usually a vampire or some fandom character)

Stays up until 3am gaming on a PC he and Feanor built together one summer, favorite game is currently Balder’s Gate 

Had to take speech therapy as a child and later some anger management classes.... because he got too good at expressing himself

Curufin

Silversmith and jewelry maker 

Specializes in accessories for ballet dancers and other performers 

Ballet dancer since he was young, never succeeded with a professional career but still practices daily and chose his specialty to remain part of the scene 

Holds a serious grudge against certain critics that failed his entry to ballet academy (will not sell his products to them or their schools)

Always looking for new business opportunities, not always in the most honest of ways 

Struggles with self esteem issues 

Has several cats and claims they betray him when they snuggle with Huan but secretly finds it adorable 

Frequently collaborates with Caranthir to make elaborate costumes just for the fun of it 

Made a tiara for his favorite cat, Princess Paws

Would sleep until four in the afternoon if you let him (or if Princess Paws didn’t wake him up screaming for food)

Amrod

Gardening Club President at his school 

Started a trade and barter farmers market after school to reduce waste and share the bounty of his and fellow club member’s gardens 

Frequently tries to convince his parents to turn their property into a “self sufficient homestead”, leaves pamphlets and pictures of adorable baby animals lying around the house 

Enlisted the help of his twin and Maitimo to build a chicken coop, forgot to ask Feanor’s permission first 

Demands payment in the form of fresh caught fish or deer jerky for the use of his gourds in Tyelko’s target practice 

Has definitely switched places with Amros to escape trouble or science tests 

Often neglects his homework for pursuits he feels are more important, will only do it without complaint when Carnistar tells him to 

Had eyes for the cool-looking red glow on the stove as a child and was banned from the kitchen for most of his adolescence 

Is generally a persistent and stubborn person (wonder where he got it from)

Amros 

Amateur photographer with an instagram following nearing one million 

Account consists of 95% nature photography and 5% “The Adventures of Huan and Princess Paws” as he follows them around the back yard 

Takes all of Makalaure’s headshots and creates his album covers, also photographs Curufin’s jewelry to upload to his retail website 

“Borrows” Carnistar’s prized PC to upload and edit his photos 

Conspired with Amrod to convince their elementary school classmates they were secretly Fred and George Weasley disguised as Muggles, ultimately failed because someone thought their accents “just sounded like they were copying Peppa Pig”

Still pulls out his British accent on occasion when someone needs cheering up 

Inherited Nerdanel’s keen observation skills, mostly uses them to blackmail his brothers into doing his chores 

But also gives the most amazing presents because he knows exactly what everyone truly wants 

[ya9amicide]

Redamancy [BTS]

chapter one

♡ info ♡ k-pop masterlist ♡ next chapter ♡

summary: Hybrids were accepted in society to a certain degree. To some, they are for entertainment. Used as sex and money tools. To lock up and abuse whenever and however they please. Something to have control over. To others, they are companions. Just like regular animals are used for therapy or simply companionship, hybrids are too.

To the rest, they are just like everyone else. Someone with their own life who deserves the same freedoms as your everyday John or Jane Doe. Wren is one of these people. She hates the idea of owning a hybrid. She has nothing against those who own them for medical or companionship reasons. Just the rest.

But, when a ragtag pack of seven mismatched hybrids somehow ends up in the woods behind her home, she takes them in and does the one thing she never thought she would do. Own them. But, she also does something she didn't even think was possible. She fell in love with each and every one of them.

pairing(s): ot7 x ot7, ot7 x oc

warnings: none

Most hybrids come from Asian countries because of the ethereal beauty they possess. For most, that is the only asset that keeps them alive. The way most of these hybrids end up in other countries is if they are sold to someone and brought there. Now, the entire world has hybrids mixed into its population.

Being a writer, I always get asked why I haven't written anything about hybrids. For a fantasy writer, it's like the jackpot of writing material considering they actually exist and all the information I would need is right at my fingertips if I want it to be.

It's just something that never sat right with me. I don't know everything and the only way to know everything is to speak to one myself. I don't own a hybrid. I won't own a hybrid. I have nothing against people who own them as long as they are treating them with care. But, I just don't feel comfortable interrogating someone for the purpose of a story.

Hybrids have very unique, very personal aspects to their lives that other people don't have. It would be like asking the deepest most personal questions about someone's life. It's unfathomably uncomfortable.

Luckily, I can escape the demands for hybrid content when I'm teaching. Teaching Greek mythology to college students has its perks in that regard. Which, leads me to where I am now, wrapping up my lecture for the day.

"Alright everyone, don't forget your homework for the weekend." Some students groan at the back of the room. I stand from behind my desk, walking around to the front where I lean against it with my hip. "Yes, yes, I know. Just be thankful you get a whole weekend for it, your other professors probably wouldn't be so nice. Now, any questions?"

Two hands raise in the air and I call on the first one to come up. "How many sources did we need to cite again?"

"At least three," I say. "You can use more if you'd like, I have no issue with that. However, I hope I don't need to remind you which types of websites aren't credible sources?"

Everyone shakes their heads and I nod, calling on the next person. "Will there be any time to come in to ask questions about our papers before Monday?"

"To come in, no. Unfortunately not. However, if you'd like you can email me with any questions you have or just send me a draft and I can read it for you and give you feedback that way. I will try to get back to you asap if I can. Just please do not email me Monday morning or late Sunday night as I will be asleep and it will be too late for you."

When I finish speaking everyone shuffles in their seats. "Any more questions?" When nobody else speaks up, I lean upright from my position in front of my desk. "If that's all then you are all free to go. Have a good weekend." I receive goodbyes from almost every student as they leave. Once the last one does, I shuffle all of my belongings together and leave the room, locking the door.

On my way home, it starts to rain. It's been in the forecast all week but it was only supposed to be a slight drizzle. This, however, is a torrential downpour. Pulling into my driveway and parking, I brace myself to make a run for it. There's no way I won't get drenched.

Walking inside, I toe off my shoes and drop my things by the door before going upstairs to change into warm and comfy clothes for the evening. Walking into the kitchen for food, I pass the large, sliding glass doors that lead to my backyard and the woods behind my house.

Cereal for dinner sounds good. With a bowl of dry cereal in one hand and a glass of milk in the other, I make my way to the living room. On the way, I pass by the glass door again. Lighting strikes, lighting up the yard and the woods in the distance. In the treeline, I almost swear I can see an animal. It's not super big, but it's not small either. Surprisingly, even with the woods bordering my house, not many animals make their way out. so, seeing one now is slightly odd.

I set my food down on the coffee table and move back to the kitchen, making a plate of food for...whatever is out there. If it's in the woods in a storm like this, it must be hungry. Sliding open the glass door, I set the plate down on the porch under the awning and move back inside where I sit on the couch with my own food and the tv playing in front of me.

I'm around two episodes into the show I was watching when I hear footsteps on the back porch. They're small but loud enough for me to hear through the rain which has settled down into a soft drizzle. Standing, I make my way to the door, trying to keep my steps light and my posture open so whatever is out there doesn't feel threatened by me.

When I'm close enough to see what it is, I find a German Shepherd right before it shifts and a man is left in its place. My hand reaches out for the door handle when he sees me. His eyes widen and he scrambles to pocket all of the food and make a run for the woods.

I quickly open the door trying to stop him. "Wait, please! You don't have to go." He freezes in his steps, halfway off the porch. "I- I can give you more food if that isn't enough. And some water too if you want?" He's thin and pale and shaking like a leaf where he stands. "Please?" My voice is soft, I'm afraid if I speak too loud he'll run away. "I just want to help."

It feels like we stare at each other for hours before he nods his head, barely enough for me to see but it's still a nod. "Okay, okay that's good," I say and lead him inside. "Let me get you a towel so you can dry off, you must be cold." I don't wait for him to respond before I rush off to get it. When I come back, he's in the same spot I left him.

"Here," I hand him the towel and watch as he wraps it around himself. Slowly, his shivering starts to calm down. "Do you have any preferences?"

He looks at me strangely, head tilting to the side. The ears on the top of his head flop to the side softly, the fur wet. "To eat? Is there anything in particular you want? Anything I should avoid?" He seems to take a minute to process what I asked him before he slowly shakes his head. "Okay. You can um...you can come wait in the kitchen while I get you something if you want."

He timidly walks in behind me and watches everything I do. I decided on soup. Hopefully, the warmth from the food would make him feel better. "Is it just you?" I ask timidly.

"No," he says softly after some hesitation.

"Are- are they close? Whoever you're with?"

"Yes."

I pause what I'm doing. Maybe I should make more soup..."How many of you are there?" How much food am I going to need to make?

He shifts uncomfortably. "Seven. Including me."

"Do they want to come in? You can invite them if you want." I avoid looking at him, continuing to make more food.

"What?" He sounds surprised and wary.

"Only if you want. I mean," I stop and chuckle slightly, "seven versus one? If I were to try anything, which I won't, I think you all have the advantage. Don't you think?"

He waited for a few minutes, probably trying to see if I was pulling his leg. "Okay." He slowly makes his way to the sliding door, I can feel his eyes on me, keeping me in his sight. Leaving the door open, he shifts back into a German Shepherd and lets out a loud howl towards the forest. Anything else beyond that, I don't hear because of the volume of the storm raging outside. It was around 15 minutes before he came back inside, several pairs of footsteps shuffling in behind him.

I freeze, gently putting down what was in my hands before slowly turning to face the group of hybrids in my home.

[otomehonyaku]

Diabolik Lovers Daylight Vol. 7 Ruki ☽ SKiT Dolce・Rejet Shop Tokuten Drama CD ☽ Absurd Lesson ♪

Original title: 理不尽レッスン♪ Voiced by Sakurai Takahiro English translation by @otomehonyaku Click here for the audio (provided and owned by me)

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Please do not reuse or post my translations elsewhere or translate my work into other languages without my permission.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

I reached 1000 followers last week, so here’s a special treat: one of Ruki’s Daylight tokuten CDs, plus a translation which you can read below the cut╰(*´︶`*)╯♡ This was yet another short but sweet one with a surprisingly wholesome message. I hope you enjoy!

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

00:00 Hey. Have you finally finished getting ready?

[You apologise for taking so long.]

Heh. It’s alright. We still have some time before we have to go to class.

Besides, Kou and the others are still busy preparing.

Have a seat, too. It seems like it’ll take a while longer.

[You sit down.]

I thought I’d prepare tea, so I boiled some water. Would you like some?

[You suggest getting the tea for him.]

No, I’ll pour it for you. I have only just cleaned the kitchen, after all. I would like to have it as tidy as possible before we leave.

[Ruki walks to the counter.]

Come to think of it, they’re being so rowdy that we can hear them all the way from here. Are they bickering again? Kou and Yuma tend to fight over who gets to use the bathroom first, right?

[You confirm his suspicions.]

Hm. So they were, even though that only chips away at the time they actually get to use the bathroom to begin with… 

They never learn, do they?

[Ruki pours the tea.]

Every time we wait for them to get ready, we head out late.

[Ruki brings the tea to you.]

Here’s yours. Be careful not to burn yourself.

We should be able to head out by the time we finish drinking the tea.

[You compliment him on his time management.]

You know I always like to have ample time before going out.

[You tell him that he’s much quicker than you are.]

It’s not as if I’m particularly quick to get ready. The four of you are slow. You always take way too long, even though your routine is the same every day. It’s only school. There is no need for such lengthy preparations.

[You tell Ruki he does much more before class than you do.]

Well, that’s true. I have many things to do, but none of them are major tasks. When you make a habit out of cooking and cleaning, you get the hang of it quickly, and it all goes smoothly before you know it. Even if I actually were to be burdened with more tasks, I would still be done before you guys.

[You ask him why he thinks that.]

It must be because I’m skilled in time management. I plan out all of my tasks for the day in advance. What I am trying to say is: you simply have to calculate the amount of time you need for each of these tasks.

[You tell him you wish you were more like him in that regard.]

Like me, you say?  Well, alright. I will do you a favour and teach you some of the tools of the trade.

[You ask him if that’s alright with him.]

Yes. If you learn to divide your time more effectively, you will have more time to help me out with running the household, right? If we can successfully distribute the household chores, we will both have more free time. I see no disadvantages.

[You tell him you will work hard.]

03:50 That’s the spirit. I wish Kou and the others would follow your example. If you help me out with the chores, I might have some time left to prepare a dessert for you.

[You’re happy about that.]

Heh, you silly girl.  You are much too happy about such trivial things. However, if you are a good student and learn how to manage your time more effectively, I will make whatever you request. Would you like blancmange, panna cotta, or rather pudding?  These are fairly straight-forward desserts, so I could easily make them for you. After all, it’s my job as your master to discipline you. 

[You get flustered.]

You look like your mind is wandering.  I always intend to discipline you thoroughly, but no matter how much time passes, your reaction is always the same. I thought you would have gotten used to it by now, but…

[His remark makes you a little shy.]

You are truly hopeless. Well, all the more reason for me to discipline you. Anyway, we have limited time before we have to go to class, so I should quit the teasing for now. Seeing you so flustered only makes me want to tease you all the more, though.  That’s no good, is it?

[You make a face.]

What, does that displease you? The face you were making earlier told me otherwise. If you want, we could continue this after class. You like it better when I take my sweet time to torment you, right? 

[You keep your mouth shut.]

I will take your silence as a yes.  Well, fine by me. Your face is like an open book, anyway.

06:28 Well, then, it is my duty as your master to teach you what I know. I will explain things in a clear order that will be easy for you to understand, so listen carefully.

[You respond enthusiastically.]

Heh. That’s what I wanted to hear. Let’s start with time management, then. You know most of the things you need to do in a day, right? You must have daily habits and other recurring tasks. You have to fit these tasks together like a puzzle and think about which ones you can carry out at the same time.

[You ask him what he means.]

Right…  For example, I do the dishes while I’m cooking, or I make a side dish(1) while I’m heating up soup. I actively try to perform tasks at the same time whenever possible. What’s important is to not waste time.

[You ask him to elaborate.]

07:07 Well, if you act without using your head, you tend to waste time much more easily. You should make a habit out of acting with intention. If you do that, you will be able to divide your time more effectively in general, not just when getting ready to go out.

[You tell him that Ruki is much better at it than you are.]

It’s not as if I do anything difficult in particular. You can do it too. It just takes practice. First, tell me the things you need to do in a day.

[You tell him.]

Hm. Washing your face and brushing your teeth are things you should do at the sink. It is best to do the various things you need to do in a given place all in succession. Moving from room to room to do something is a good example of wasting time. Are there other things you do near the sink?

[You tell him.]

08:05 I didn’t expect you to have so much to do. So, hair styling and skincare—they each have an order to them too, right? Try to think of whether there are any unnecessary steps in these actions.

[You start listing the steps in your hair care routine, but…]

Wait. You do all that just for your regular hairstyle? I can understand combing your hair, but is applying hair oil and using a hair curler really necessary?

[You nod.]

I see. If you say it’s necessary, then it must be. Looking after your appearance is not a bad thing, after all. But if your hair styling alone consists of so many steps, your skincare routine must have even more.

[You start to tell him, but…]

09:04 No, I’ve heard enough. I understand very well that you need to do many things in order to get ready. Are there any steps in your hair styling and skincare that you could perform at the same time?

[You’re unsure.]

I see.  If that’s the case, then you should try looking to improve elsewhere. But even then…

[You ask him whether something’s wrong.]

No, I’m actually kind of impressed. There is much more to your morning routine than I thought. I knew women always took some time to get ready in the morning, but I did not expect this. As a man, it barely takes any time. To do all of these additional things must take considerable effort. You do all of these steps every day, right?

[You nod.]

I see. That is quite admirable.

[You’re surprised.]

Why are you so surprised?

[You tell him it’s because of his compliment.]

Is it that unusual for me to praise you? As your master, I assumed it was only natural to reward you when you deserve praise, but… It must not have been enough for you. If you wish, I could give you a more obvious reward.

[You get flustered again.]

10:38 Heh. Your cheeks are red.  What did you imagine just now? I figured that it would suffice to pet your head or pamper you from time to time, but to you, that is only a half-hearted reward, isn’t it?

[You deny it.]

Heh. If you shake your head so vigorously, the hairstyle you spent so much time on will go to waste. After all, considering all the time and effort you put into your hair, I should refrain from petting your head, too. I should think of other methods to reward you.

[You’re a little disappointed.]

Heh. No need to be so sad.  I did not say I would never touch you again. I should merely touch you carefully so as to not ruin your hair and makeup.  Besides, we’re only talking about before you get ready, right? When we’re at home, it doesn’t matter how messed up your hair gets…

[Ruki holds you close.]

Next time I reward you, I am sure it will be to your liking. Look forward to it. And from now on, I will factor in the time you need to get ready when we make plans to head out together. Because thanks to you, I fully understand how much effort women put into their appearance.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

1. Honestly I just wrote ‘side dish’ here because I could not decipher for the life of me what word he used instead lol

[sleepynoons]

THE NIGHT BY SOYOU (FEAT. GEEKS) – asakura shin (sakamoto days) x gn!reader, college!au, sfw

genre – fluff word count – ~2,300 warnings – suggestive content synopsis – plans have changed, and to your surprise, both you and your boyfriend shin are staying on campus over winter break. that means the two of you can spend christmas together, and you're excited to have him all to yourself!

Your room has never been cleaner. It’s a small studio, just a little over how much a college student living in Japan can afford, and usually, there’d be piles of clothes hanging on the backs of plastic chairs, plushies scattered across the floor – victim after victim to your devastating tossing and turning during the night –, scrap paper and ballpoint pens lying on every hard surface. But given that your boyfriend, Shin, will be staying with you for a week over winter break, you put in the effort to make your place look somewhat presentable and spacious enough for two people.

It’s not like he hasn’t come over before, but that was at the beginning of the school year in March when you had just moved in, and most of your belongings hadn’t arrived yet. At the time, the two of you barely knew each other; he only came to drop off some soldering tools that Natsuki, your mutual friend, had been holding onto for you, but from first glance, Shin looked absolutely adorable to you, and you knew you couldn’t wait to get your hands on him. After a few months, thanks to many chance encounters on campus and several more deliberate efforts on your end to meet up (mainly never-ending text messages in all-caps to Natsuki demanding he set the two of you up), the two of you began dating towards the latter half of the summer.

That’s why you’re not only excited that he’s staying over, but it’ll also be your first Christmas together as a couple! Throughout the past week, you’ve been daydreaming for hours on end about all of the romantic, cheesy things the two of you can do together – cuddling while watching a movie in the dark, making hot chocolate together, waking early to a white Christmas, the list goes on. But, more importantly, you have a single goal for this Christmas, one that will change the progression and trajectory of your relationship, and you must accomplish it.

You’ll finally convince Shin to make out with you (and maybe do more)!

Aside from teasing pecks and soft smooches, the two of you haven't done more, and it almost pains you to admit that your relationship is still on first base. To be fair, it’s not like you haven’t pressed for more. Especially when the mood seems more heated, you always ask your boyfriend for more, at which he blushes furiously but shakes his head, refusing to give you what you need. 

“I’m too nervous, and I don’t know how to,” he admitted once, begrudging and a little ashamed in tone. “You’re my first, so… I don’t really know what to do.”

At that, you backed off, not wanting to pressure him into doing something he’s not prepared for.

But it’s been months since that conversation, and your impatience is returning ten-fold. You’ve also noticed that, as of late, he’s been staring at your lips more, lightly panting under his breath whenever the two separate from a kiss, hands clenching and fisted at his sides whenever you lean a little too closely, as if he’s resisting some devilish temptation or desire.

Now that you have the chance, you have to ask him again, and if he lets you, you’ll teach him everything he has to know.

The doorbell rings, and you drop your phone down onto the kitchen counter and scramble over to the door. You fling the door open and spring forward, causing Shin to shout in surprise as you hug him.

“Shin!” you chirp, bouncing on the balls of your feet as you release him.

He sets down his duffle bag with clothes, toiletries, and other necessities for the upcoming week onto the ground, while holding onto a small bag with a ribbon tying the handles together. He pecks you on the forehead before shoving the party bag at your direction. “Merry Christmas!”

You can’t help but yelp with delight, hands clapping vigorously, before you take it from him. You look back at him and, with a large, wide smile, ask, “I thought we weren’t going to exchange gifts?”

With a shy sigh, he rubs a hand behind his neck, ears tinged pink, as he explains, “It’s not really a present. Just some goods from back home since you’re letting me stay over.”

“Aw, that’s so sweet of you, Shin!”

You fling your arms around your boyfriend again, embracing him tightly again, and you don’t let him go until you hear him wheezing for air.

Promptly, you let go before turning around and beckoning him with dramatic waves of your arms to follow after you. “Come in! Just make yourself comfortable!”

Shin chuckles before setting his duffle bag next to your bed before joining you in the kitchen. You’re pouring hot milk into two mugs, and he helps you drop marshmallow bits on top to complete the hot chocolate.

As you both sit down at your dining table, you ask him, “Are you feeling alright? I know this is your first Christmas away from home…”

Originally, your boyfriend was supposed to return home, but the weather had taken a turn for the worse, and it wasn’t safe anymore for him to drive home on his motorcycle. It’s quite obvious how much Shin’s family means to him – his phone wallpaper is of his two sisters, Lu and Hana, and he calls his parents every weekend. His brother, Heisuke, along with his pet bird Piisuke, often drop by as well. While you’re excited that the two of you can spend more time together, you’re worried that the tradeoff came at his loss.

Shin glances at you as he blows at the persistent steam rising from his cup. With a shrug, he says, “Oh, it’s not a big deal. The forecast said the snowstorm will clear by next week, so I’ll get home right before New Year’s.”

Despite his nonchalance, you let out a loud wail and bury your face into the crook of his neck. “Don’t worry, Shin!” you declare, though your volume's muffled by his sweatshirt. “We’ll have so much fun together!”

And the evening is fun! As per tradition, the two of you order fried chicken with several side dishes – corn with melted cheese, toasted bread, garlic fries – and chow down while catching up on several movies that neither of you could watch due to endless assignments and deadlines. You also force Shin to do a sheet mask with you, and throughout the 15-minute wait, Shin’s incredibly restless and has to fidget in some way, whether that be bouncing his leg or wriggling his finger or elbowing you in the rib cage. By the time you both are ready for bed, it’s already past midnight – in other words, officially Christmas.

“Merry Christmas,” you giggle as you crawl into the covers.

Shin’s already lying on his back, sprawled across the entire bed, and you take care not to step or press down on him. You hook a leg across his midriff and fold your arms together between your bodies, one hand flattened over his chest directly where his heart rests underneath. His heartbeat is surprisingly slow, though it’s not as abnormal given that he’s athletic and built. Shin has an arm underneath your neck, and his cheek's pressed against your forehead.

It’s tempting to fall asleep – from your shared warmth, the thumping of his heart alternating with yours, the occasional whisper of his breath tickling your forehead. And you do almost give in. Shin’s eyes are closed, and his other hand, which was fiddling with your sleep shorts, is getting lazier and slower in its movements. He might even be asleep at this rate, but unfortunately, you won’t let him rest that easily tonight.

“Shin,” you mutter, patting at his chest lightly, “are you still awake?”

At first, he doesn’t react, and you feel disappointment sink in your stomach. Then, you watch as a corner of his lip twitches until there’s a small, teasing smile on his face.

“What’s up?” he asks through a fit of chuckles. You giggle along with him and get up to peck him lightly on the eyelids.

“It’s Christmas!” you whine, quite emphatically as well. “We can’t just go to bed!”

Your boyfriend rolls his eyes. You ignore it because you know he always gives into your wants anyway. And as expected, he asks, “What should we do then?” 

This is the perfect opportunity, you think. A surge of excitement races through your body, causing you to almost shiver in delight. And so, with your leg that is slung across his waist, you tuck the heel of your foot into him a bit tighter, and look down at him with giddy expectation.

“Well…,” you drawl, “it’s normal for couples to get a little… naughty on Christmas, right?”

Shin immediately blushes, sputtering surprised and flustered noises, and tries to cover up his face. You catch his hand, though, and your hold on him prevents him from pulling away through other means.

“Shin,” you whimper, more desperate than anything, “don’t you want to kiss me?”

The question quite literally gags him, and with a slack jaw, he’s stunned quiet. His eyes scramble around, fastidiously searching your face for a sign of humor or teasing. But you’re totally serious, determined, and he can tell from the slight pinch between your brows.

He sighs, a loud release of air, before he faces away from you. With a muted voice, he admits, “I do.”

You gleam at his answer, and you press your body closer to his, chest to his side, thigh hiked up and over his stomach, arm across his chest. At this point, you’re practically lying on top of him.

“I want to kiss you, too!” you exclaim. But you quiet down immediately and mumble, “I want to kiss you more…”

Shin’s face is now a shade of deep red, heat spreading across his cheeks, ears, and neck. “I-I don’t know how to…”

You press your lips against the bottom of his jaw. You glance up, gauging his reaction, but it seems he’s also waiting to see what you’ll do next. So you continue, making your way up to his earlobe, which you nip at – his breath hitches at it –, before you move horizontally, scattering more pecks across his cheeks and nose bridge.

Then, you take a brief pause. You rest your forehead against his and whisper, “Is this alright?”

“Y-yeah,” he grunts.

With his approval, you resume. You kiss at the arches of his eyebrows, his temples, the apples of his cheeks again. But you feel a burning impulse to do more, so you finally allow yourself to kiss him.

You’re truly on top of him now. Legs straddling him and forearms resting on his chest, you kiss him deeply, putting slight pressure as you mesh your lips against his. Shin responds enthusiastically, hands grabbing at your waist, chin tilting up for a better angle, throat thrumming with broken groans.

When he tries to break for air, you press forward. You lick and bite his bottom lip, to which he weakly gasps at, before interlocking your lips together once more. Your hands have moved up to hold his face in place, enabling you to nibble at and taste his lips until you’re content.

“Breathe through your nose,” you croak as you finally relent, pulling away to get a proper look at your boyfriend.

Shin’s entirely disheveled. His shirt's crumpled and wrinkled, his hair's matted to his forehead, and there’s a dazed air to him in general. He glances at you before huffing, out of breath, “Should’ve said so earlier, idiot.”

You try to contain your satisfaction, but Shin clicks his tongue at you, knowing your internal monologue regardless.

“How’s that for your first makeout session?” you tease, poking at his stomach with an index finger.

Unwilling to give in, he gruffly responds, “Fine.”

You squawk, more than displeased with his response, and you probe even further. “What?! What didn’t you like? Was I too forceful? Did I bite too hard? Should I have added tongue –“

He muffles your mouth with his palm, blush reigniting at your string of questions, particularly that last one.

“No, no! It was fine – actually, fantastic! There, happy?”

You cross your arms and pout. You wanted Shin to enjoy making out with you so much so that he would say it himself, not to simply appease you.

As you’re thinking about what you could’ve done better, you don’t notice the way he stares – practically glares – at your lips. His arms have also slowly wound their way around your hips, and it’s only when he shifts so that he’s sliding up that you’re brought back from your thoughts.

You didn’t realize the two of you were so close again. Now that you’re both sitting up, Shin’s chest is pressed solid against yours once again, and a hand of his rests at the back of your neck, reaching up to hold the base of your head as well. His breath's also heavier, and you gulp, having never seen Shin so serious and quiet, aside from when he’s studying.

Finally, after what seems like several minutes of silence, Shin redirects his glare to you and mumbles, “Merry Christmas,” before he seals the last bit of distance between the two of you, kissing you so deeply, intently, breathlessly.

You squeak in surprise, but the noise gets swallowed up by Shin’s hungry licks and suckling, and the two of you continue to make out, lip to lip, tongue against tongue.

You’ve always known that Shin’s a fast learner, but your heart also sings with pleasure at your boyfriend’s adventuring boldness. The shyness he had once displayed has been replaced with an eagerness that can’t be suppressed for any longer, and as he licks at a string of drool that's only beginning to slide out of the corner of your mouth, you relax into his grip, relinquishing pacing and control over to him.

Somewhere, in the back of your head, you thank your impatience because this is the best Christmas you could’ve asked for, and you wouldn’t trade this moment with Shin for anything else.

winter event masterlist

[fearecia]

Putting this in a pinned post to make it easy to find/share. We all know how Tumblr is about things (and to be fair, I'm terrible and inconsistent as hell with tags).

Link to the "shoulder release" document:

Notes about this guide:

This is a WIP, and still very much in the rough draft phase. Please forgive typos/errors. I literally haven't done a single edit yet.

The document focuses on releasing shoulders as a way to treat neck tension and migraines. Seriously, just trust me. It helps.

Carpal tunnel? Tennis elbow? Golfer's elbow? AC (acromioclavicular) joint injury? Rotator cuff problems? Tight upper back? Sporadic numbness in your arm? Seriously, just try the muscles already listed. You'll likely find at least some relief. Like, if it involves the upper body, release your shoulders.

I've done my best to make this able to be understood by people without massage training. So if it seems like it's covering really "obvious" info, that's intentional. Just skip the section if you already know things.

A lot of massage therapists may balk at me telling you to dig around in your own armpit. We're taught in school to avoid the area. Why? Because there's a crap ton of nerves and blood vessels there. *Which is precisely why releasing this area is so powerful.* There's also a ton of muscle (on yes, basically everybody) here that will protect all those structures. It's honestly really safe so long as you stick to "In pain, refrain!" And read the other rules too.

90% of the time, the culprit is one of the four muscles listed (or any combination of them). If you are someone who exercises a lot/does yoga/is otherwise pretty physically active, you are more likely to fall into the 10% of people who will have their issue somewhere else/it will just be really hard to find. So bear that in mind.

Sadly, this sort of thing will probably never be a "one and done" type of deal. Most of the things we do every day steadily build up to cause problems, and you have to constantly work to undo that entropy. So save these notes for future you.

And just in case you want to know what the hell qualifies me to make this sort of document, here are my "quals."

My first career attempt was nursing. While this did not go well (doctors don't really appreciate autistic students willing to question their authority) I learned a shit ton about the body. I became a student teacher for the anatomy and physiology class because I was so good at it (and that professor used to teach the pre-med students). A&P is now literally one of my special interests.

8 years as a licensed massage therapist focused exclusively on injury therapy. I studied Rolfing techniques, and primarily used trigger point therapy, structural integration, and myofascial release as my tools. Clients liked to joke that going to see me was like seeing the physical therapist (they weren't wrong).

Some of the stuff I share is literally self taught through "following the tension" in clients bodies. Like, I developed some of my protocols. And then practiced and refined them over 100s of bodies. The goal was always the most efficient and least painful way to achieve lasting release.

I eventually destroyed my shoulder doing massage (which was injured long before this career due to an AC joint sprain gotten when I was 20). Bonus, this means I'm *very* practiced at releasing my own shoulders.

I'm now a mechanical engineer, which just means I now have the engineering knowledge to understand to the force transferrence patterns I saw in clients all the time. Kinesiology is the same thing as statics and dynamics.

Hopefully that helps put perspective into things. I'll update this post as new versions of the document come out. I have a ton on my plate right now (who am I joking; I always have a ton on my plate), so please be patient waiting for updates.

[ladyofrosefire]

saw this post. had a burst of Feelings About Pedagogy. Bon appetite.

Your teachers didn't lie to you.

Well, okay, if you got to your senior year of high school and they're still saying 'a paragraph is 5-8 sentences,' yes there is something wrong, but that seems like an unlikely thing to have happen.

In teaching, we start with 'a paragraph is 5 sentences' for the same reason you might practice a specific type of spin in ballet by putting your hands on your shoulders while you turn half circles. The end result does not work like that, but it builds a skill essential to what the result will look like in the future. Just like practicing with your hands on your shoulders helps you practice balance and spotting, being told 'it must be 5 sentences' or 'it must be 5-8' sentences pushes students used to writing 2-3 sentences to practice developing their thoughts.

It also removes some ambiguity when a teacher says 'I would like a paragraph response' and means 'I would like a well-developed response that isn't multiple pages long.' I've taught 7th, 8th, and 11th graders. If you say 'paragraph' to 11th graders, they understand what boreal-sea is saying, to some extent. They are still practicing recognizing when they have tried to jam two points into one paragraph, but they do recognize that a paragraph is a unit of thought.

The 7th and 8th graders are still trying to figure out:

what a paragraph is

how to think through ideas and write those thoughts down

possibly how little work they can get away with doing (the 11th graders might be doing this, also, but have a better sense of it)

and so on

This list is not exhaustive, and there will be variation by school district/country/etc, however. Something something tumblr post disclaimer about not applying to every situation ever.

TL,DR; Saying a paragraph is 5 sentences is a stepping stone tool used to build skills and clarify meaning and it is NOT meant to stay with a student for their whole career. It is meant to give you a metaphorical flotation device for when when the student is chucked into the deeper water of 'having to write responses requiring enough complexity that you probably need more than 2-3 sentences.' You are not just "feel[ing] that shit in your soul"— you have internalized the function of a paragraph and understand it on some level, even if you have, for some reason or another, never articulated the logic to yourself.

[whocaresstillthelouvre]

No One Here Is Alone (Joel's Version)

A moodboard, 600 word drabble, and playlist celebrating Chapter 2 of Elks.

A/N: Posting these to help clean up the masterlist, don't mind me. Thanks to @saradika-graphics for the headers.

The rain pelts him as he walks home, trying to avoid the large puddles scattered across the ground. The feeling inside his chest is familiar, and yet still so foreign. You might just be the sweetest and kindest person he’s ever met.

Kindness, he used to know it, hell, he used to teach it. 

Telling Sarah to hold doors open for the elderly. Letting Tommy know he needs to drop in to visit their mom more often, not just when he needed to borrow a few bucks. Not charging the overwhelmed father overtime fees for drywall work when a burst pipe destroyed half his kitchen. Helping the short woman grab a bottle of soda off the top shelf at the grocery store. 

But, thousands of miles traversed across a wasteland killing and pillaging after losing the one reason he had to live, changes a man. 

Then, Tommy. Becoming the grown up as soon as Sarah took her last breath, keeping a watchful eye on Joel. Running through the door, grabbing his gun after Joel flinched, slapping him across the face and saying he needed him. That someday, someone else would need him. That Joel couldn’t leave him alone—not after they’d already lost so much.

Then, Tess. Exceedingly tough and resourceful. Teaching him there’s more to getting what you want than violence. That you can lose everything and still believe in something better. 

Then, Ellie. All she’s known is this world he’s called cruel and unforgiving, and yet, she’s tenacious, funny, and excited for every day. Each mile traveled with her, each cheesy joke she giggled at, each time she’d hide behind him, a bit of kindness would wrap around his heart. 

He glances at the garage in his backyard. The lights are out; he’s sure she’s already asleep by now. 

Then, Jackson. How can one care for others when they can’t even care for themselves?  It was always easier to say community no longer exists… until the gates opened to him and he saw a future for not only himself, but for Ellie, too. 

He steps through his door, knocking his wet boots against the rug before slipping them off and putting them on a shoe rack. He never thought he’d have something as ridiculously utilitarian as a shoe rack. Now, he has a warm home to make his own, a comfortable bed to lay in, safety and protection. Foreign luxuries that now seem normal. 

He slowly learned to believe that there was hope, there was kindness. He didn’t have to lock his heart away. He could have a future, while still holding onto the past kindness he once knew. 

He walks into his studio and studies the half-finished mural. Green stems climb across the wall, waiting for you to make the petals bloom. He leans in, his eyes follow your delicate brush strokes, his heart is overwhelmed by the time and care you’ve put forth to do this for him. He doesn’t deserve this kindness, and yet, your art tells him otherwise. 

And then, there’s you. Your bright flowers covering dingy walls, leaving the world a little more beautiful. Your joy for teaching your students, especially Ellie. Your little library, giving his fellow residents an escape with each tattered book. People like you shouldn’t exist, so young when the world ended, and yet here you are–restoring kindness into the too-often cruel world. Restoring kindness inside his heart. 

He opens the cabinet in the corner of his studio, pulling out the wooden block just starting to take shape and his carving tools before sitting down on his work stool, facing the mural. 

Playlist under the cut!

Next Chapter

[terrence-silver]

Hello 🖤 I love seeing your blog pop up in my feed, simply exquisite 🖤

I have a request. What would older Terry Silver do with an adult student who is rather boisterous in class, she listens but only when she wants, she's a smarty pants. Terry so wishes to teach her a lesson after many months of class passing, learning her mannerisms, learning HER. Ever the voyeur, finding her home, seeing what lies within when she's not home, Terry plans a little 'private lesson,' specifically for her at his home dojo. Ending with his gi sloppy on him, his hair a mess like the slut he is with his student underneath him with no mercy being shown. His student definitely listens to HIS wants and desires, eager to please.

Breaking Stone.

(Terry Silver x Reader)

---

-"How safe is this, Sensei? I mean, it’s solid rock."- 

Your voice speaks up from the gathered crowd and Terry Silver, he knew you’d have something to say without having to turn his back towards the mass of students keenly eyeing his demonstration in silence, standing jam packed in a circle around the erected board with a concrete block fastened to the center of the scaffolding propped up on iron legs, following his every word like a mantra only for him predict that your mouth will eventually move to utter something and dare interrupt him. Class fifty eight. A lesson on Brick Breaking. Tools necessary; pretty straightforward. A slab of rock and a fist. Additional spices; your usual commentary in the midst of it all. Happened almost daily. Happened to the degree it was a constant he could count on. -"We’ll break our hands on that."- You add with a sense of urgency and worry once the entirety of the exercise’s participants turn their eyes towards you, scrutinizing, weighing and accessing what you just blurted out and you tended to blurt out stuff frequently. Terry joins them in their quiet staring, finding a twitch of satisfaction stir through him once he realized you were jittery and stuttering, made self aware through the fact you were the sudden center of attention. Needing to justify yourself for placing the spotlight unto yourself, you blurt out some more bullshit. Nerves, was it? You deserved that. Deserved much worse for stepping out of line. -"What do we do in case we tear our ligaments punching the board?"- You ask, scratching the back of your head. Ligaments? Were you frightened of getting a boo-boo? At that point, Terry allows himself to turn his entire body towards you, taking his time, slowly --- painfully slowly --- looking straight ahead, towards you. You shift, from one bare foot on the mat to the other, like the stillness of everything around you gave you a sense of discomfort.

Stew in it. He hoped you'd stew in it.

-"Seems a bit extreme. Sorry."-

You chuckle, apologizing, looking down. Then back up.

Terry has to chuckle with you, neatly folding his hands in front of him.

A bit extreme? It was meant to be extreme.

-"Our student here thinks our methods are strange, but these classes aren’t mandatory."-

He simply shrugs matter-of-factly, addressing the people around him, all eyes leave you and pinning themselves in his direction instead, encircling him like a tightly closed ring, listening attentively, leaving you even more isolated in your folly. The great mother hen and the ducklings. The one, solitary ugly black duck that talked too much. -"Nobody’s here by force."- He explains, and contrary to popular belief, everyone here gave their signature of consent on a written contract. Terms. Conditions. Price rates. Health insurances. They showed up to daily classes because they wanted to, giving their hard earned money out of their own volition. He didn't go kidnapping people off of the streets of LA and harassing them into black Gi, in spite of what the likes of Larusso tried to accuse him of, same way not even Larusso himself was harassed into this, decades ago. -"Or are you all here by force?"- Terry purses his lips, looking around, enjoying this far too much to stop. In unison, they all speak up, one voice, stemming from one collective lung. -"No, Sensei!"- The dojo resonates with their shout. He tries again, spreading his arms, envisioning himself like Pontius Pilate about to wash his hands clean of you and let the crowds make their decisions. -"Why are you here for then?"- He inquires, raising his voice, encouraging them. Spurring them on. -"To learn, Sensei!"- Obeying, they repeat the motion, letting out a united cry and content, Terry squeezes his fingers into a fist once they all fall silent, all but an echo remaining, his other free hand caressing the concrete block in front of him, never taking his eyes off of you. At this point, with a mouth standing agape, forgetting you should've joined everyone in their jubilant war cry, you were as pale as a ghost. Not quite so chatty or smart anymore.

Perfect.

-"The lesson is —"- He begins. -"A true artist of the craft spends years, even decades just hitting things. Sand. Wood. Stone. Metal. Flesh."-

Terry coos, confessing, that he did, on occasion, imagine hitting you.

The sweetest thing he'd ever strike. Purely to shut you up, get you the way you were right now; As quiet as the dead; all gulps and anxious little eyes darting left and right. Preferably having you bent over his knee like an unruly child and taking the bamboo stick to you bare buttocks until they were rendered crimson red with punishment. After it was all done, he'd have you thanking him for the honor too. He smiles, just at the notion; an expression he doesn't bother hiding.

-"Having been broken so many times, it makes their bones so dense that when it comes in contact with solid rock, the rock breaks first."-

Terry digs his teeth into his lower lip, taking his stance and lunging forward suddenly, knuckles breaking through the barrier of the rock and crumbling, his fingers pushing through the crack he made on the other side. It was as simple as that. -"Asaa!"- He bellows and if the dojo was collectively holding it's breath, once he's done, the remains of sharp jagged tiny pebbles spilling on the mat under around his feet like so many rolling marbles, he senses an equally collective exhale. He can swear you weren't blinking at that point. What were you shocked by? The fact that he just smashed through a brick that weighed ten pounds like it was nothing or the implication he's broken his hand by choice so many times that he could pull shit like this in the first place? Maybe it wasn't smart to backtalk or question the methods of a person who could crush your windpipes in with merely just his thumbs. -"So, you see — breaking our fists, it’s part of the curriculum."- He shakes his head, staring you down, taking a couple of steps forward, until it was undeniable he was addressing you in particular; his infuriatingly Doubting Thomas, ignoring the students that wordlessly volunteered to clean up, scooting down to pick up the unfortunate remains of the rock slab, chirping away at the remains like a handful of chicks. -"This is part of what you signed up for when you came to this dojo. When you came to Cobra Kai."- He assesses firmly. -"You came to break with the old so the new and the improved could take its place."- He adds. Eventually, you'd have to bruise and break in those pretty little hands much like everyone else would and if you didn't have the guts to do that, you'd advance nowhere and your here would become fairly obsolete. Someone might as well tell you that upfront.

Even though, he confessed. The idea of a piece of rock breaking your hands?

Something shoots through him, like a radioactive phantasm of jealousy.

He wanted to do the breaking instead.

Not leave it up to an inanimate piece of training gear.

-"And if you can't imagine yourself doing that, you can always take up a knitting class."-

He adds, finally, earning himself a couple of amused chuckles.

Blood rushes into your cheeks.

Were you angry? Ashamed? Humiliated? Good.

—

Looking through your files was child's game after that.

He pretty much had everything he needed to know about you, printed in black and white in his own two hands, on the very exact form you filled the day you signed up for adulted classes six months ago; your home address, bank statement, contact number, email, age, place of employment, blood type in case an accident took place mid-training and a transfusion was needed on short notice. And yes, he's broken into your home before. Terry did it the first time you ever ran your mouth to backtalk him, asking if doing fifty consecutive push ups as warm was a smart decision because it was bound to leave everyone too exhausted to hold proper form and too distracted with tiredness to properly follow the class. He checked every drawer, every shelf, every nook, every cranny, supposing he wanted to find something he could spit on in indignation and discovering nothing more fitting but what he could only deduce was your framed graduation photograph, pursuing his lips and letting the saliva build up right before he hurled the spittle out of his mouth and right unto the glass inside of the frame, watching it trickle down your face, smearing it with his finger in retaliation, deciding the gesture was fitting punishment. If only he had a chance to do it with your actual face next. Spit in your mouth too, for refusing to shut up as it did. Spit in your mouth for missing three of your classes this week, like that was a thing you were allowed to do when you weren't. Did he tear into you verbally too hard last time? Was that it? Undoubtedly, but that still didn't give you permission to leave. He wanted you to come back so he could harass you some more, like you deserved to be harassed.

He knocks on your door, freshly having concluded this week's teaching.

Still in his Gi, jacket slung over his shoulders.

He did that on purpose, to make it seem like him coming here wasn't premeditated or something he tactically prepared for in advance, but rather, like a last minute decision he made in the utmost rush to the degree he didn't even have time to change out of his training attire, forgetful, overworked old man that he is. -"Who’s there!?"- Your concerned, slightly confused voice calls from the other end and he hears the keyhole clicking, only for your uncertain face to show up in the precipice of the doorframe illuminated by the warm light of your apartment's foyer looming like a halo behind you, brows practically jumping once you recognized him, appearing relieved. -"Sensei Silver!?"- You state in surprise, opening the door entirely, letting him step over the threshold, moving out of the way to usher him inside from the corridor. He tries not to seem too familiar with the territory, pretending not to know exactly where to stand; next to the shoe rack or the coat hanger. -"God. I’m so sorry. Got scared halfway to death!"- You place your hand over your chest, exhaling and smiling. Way too fidgety for someone who took Tang Soo Do classes. What were you afraid of? Of someone barging in and subduing you? -"What do I owe the honor of the visit! I didn’t expect anyone."- You shake your head, all charm. Of course he prepared an excuse for him being here and it comes in a form of a sleek pamphlet he produces from inside of his jacket, handing it to you. He had it printed, in bulk and giving out to everyone at the dojo solely so he could have a reason to give you one to you as well. -"The curriculum. For our future classes. I thought you might wanna look through it. Freshly printed."- Terry explains. He hoped you would've continued showing up, smart mouth you always were, but there you went, disappearing. If Muhammad wouldn't come to the mountain, the mountain would have to come to Muhammad.

-"You missed the last session so I brought it over personally. Where'd you go?"-

Terry feigns concern. He knew where you went. You were pegged down a notch.

Proceeded retreating with your tail behind your legs.

That's what you get for questioning him.

But, he didn't expect you to retreat quite so definitely.

Who'd you ask if you can do that? Did you ask anyone? Him?

You eyelashes flutter, like you were about to come up with an excuse.

-"I think you're right, Sensei. I mean, the whole Cobra Kai dojo scene, ---"-

You begin, looking away from him, vehemently staring at the pattern on the corridor carpet, holding the flyer with a sense of unease, like you weren't certain what to do with it. If you crumpled it up, he'd make you eat it. -"It ain't for me. I'm not cut out for it."- You confess, finally meeting his gaze, appearing a bit shy at the notion. He knew a tangent was incoming. Decides to let you have it. And knowing you, you wouldn't shut up any time soon in the next five minutes. -"I can't do any of those things you demonstrated last week. Break my bones on purpose? Smash through rocks? Ignore pain? I know when I'm out of my depth and there's no shame in admitting something ain't for me and gracefully moving on. What you said the last time --- you helped me see that. You really did."- You utter, in one solitary breath, and it takes everything within Terry not to laugh at you. So, humiliating in front of the whole class for interrupting him for the umpteenth time with some inane observation, you thought it was for your own good and that it made you see things more clearly? What? Was that why you left his dojo like it was a bus station? Did you really take up knitting as a hobby in the meantime as well? -"I had a great time studying these past few months under you, but I just can't continue."- You visibly gulp once he says nothing and you feel incentivized to further explain. You never had a problem with that before. Go ahead. He was giving you center stage to speak. So speak. -"I talk back. I interrupt. I question. I worry. I'm so sorry. I can't just let go and do it. Do what I'm supposed to do on the mat."- You add, your eyes widening, perhaps in anxiety, pupils dilating, looking back and forth between the surrounding furniture and the wall --- anywhere but at him. Why should he let you go? When it was so fun pushing your buttons? In fact, he decides you could use some more of that.

-"Do you like me?'-

He asks, bluntly. You take a step back, stammering.

-"Excuse me, sir?"-

-"I said, do you like me?"- He repeats himself, firmer.

Your mouth wordlessly forms a shape, but no sound comes forth.

You weren't certain what to say.

Finally.

You were speechless for once. That was a welcoming novelty.

-"Because, if you like me, you won't leave me here stranded, with one student less and waltz out impulsively, on such a short notice. That's not how things work. There's a price for that."-

He winds you up, deciding to stoke a fire and then immediately extinguish it, intending to fluster you for thinking what he led you to think, watching the abject shame settle into your expression like a newly formed wrinkle just because for a mere second, you thought this was a confession of something more than it was instead of a cleverly phrased and deliberately misguiding segway intended to put you on the spot and make you feel like an idiot with no listening comprehension. -"I'll pay everything I still own and ---"- You practically stumble over your words, clutching the pamphlet to your chest vigorously, like a shield, referencing unpaid lesson, trying to regain what little balance you had, visibly sweating bullets. Stoke the fire. Extinguish the fire. Stoke the fire. Extinguish the fire. Terry steps forward, shutting you up. Commanding you to stay silent. -"Don't talk."- He orders, flatly, putting up his hand alongside his finger as a warning and then coming closer still, until the tip of it is practically pushing against your mouth. You appeared flaggerbasted. Like you weren't sure what was going on, too shocked to actually move. This was why confusing people into a state of paralytic awkwardness was paramount in verbal warfare. He pushed his index finger between your lips and you still didn't move, letting him get away with it, too stunned for words. -"For once, listen. Don't speak."- He murmurs, staring at your mouth, pushing his nail inside, feeling your wetness and finding your tongue, frozen stiff, clasping it with his thumb and index finger and holding it, pulling on it, until you groaned, trying to mutely gibber and failing. -"This is the thing that always talked back. Can't talk back anymore, can it?"- He taunts and you shake your head with an expression that would place deer in headlights to shame, shivering vigorously.

You've seen what his hands could do. What his fists could do.

He could rip your tongue out of your skull and it would pose little issue.

He felt you knew that right about now.

Practically dangled by the tip of your mouth's organ. Your head slumping back.

Unable to release yourself, you slowly lower yourself, to your knees.

-"That's good."- Terry coos, pleased, watching you drool all over his hand.

-"Open that pretty little mouth of yours and use it for something really valuable for a change."-

He purrs, even as his fingers go fidgeting, lower his Gi's trousers, loosening the obi around his waist, pulling his cock out of his briefs, showcasing it to you so the state of the situation would settle in. He'd hatefuck your mouth. He was already hard. Already dripping precum. Almost like the very act of coming here and pestering you served to do it for him as he, without much deliberation, pushed himself inside of your lips, taking in the sloppy, receptive moisture, enjoying the symbolism of the flyer he's given you falling next to you on the floorboard until you were practically kneeling atop of it. -"Perfect."- He hums, praising. -"You've been badgering and badgering and I can't tell you how many times I thought about interrupting class and just giving it to you, in front of everyone, right there, in the middle of the dojo. Let them all see what happens when someone questions Terry Silver and his methods."- Now it was his turn to make some confessions, fingers tangling into your hair, coiling into a fist, making you look at him with your watering, teary eyes. He amps up his pace, bobbing your head back and forth for you, using your tresses as reins. Look how you've infected him. Now he was the one rambling and loving it. -"But, I wanted the occasion to be something special. Someplace I could really savor it --- and what better place than right under your very own roof."- He closes his eyes, smiling, enjoying the sensation of tense pleasure building up in his gut, right before looking down at you with your brows furrowed. You were just now realizing this was premeditated. Poor you. -"Oh, don't look at me like that. Don't think I haven't been in here before. Been here a thousand times."- He chuckles into his own chin, moaning. Of course he's desecrated something miniscule every time you talked back as an elaborate form of revenge and violation, like wiping his cock on the curtain after masturbating on your bed. Nothing was for free. Disrespect certainly wasn't.

-"And you'll be seeing a lot more of me just yet. Don't think this is over. Don't think you can disassociating with Cobra Kai and me on a whim. You can't."-

He flat out threatens, his hips rutting vigorously against your head.

You thought this was a game?

You sign up to his dojo for like six months and call it quits when things get hard?

Cobra Kai was a brotherhood. A society. Not an extracurricular pastime or a hobby.

That's what people weren't getting. He didn't want them to just yet.

But you? He'd was breaking the news to you hard and fast in the flesh.

-"You belonged to me from the moment you met me and put on the Gi and you'll belong to me until your dying breath."-

He grits his teeth, shaking, seething, feeling his tresses slide out of his ponytail and unto his forehead in an unruly mess, satisfaction coiling in his groin imaging you returning to the dojo on Monday, dressed in your uniform, all neat and proper, your attitude curbed and kept only for special occasions, releasing suddenly, just at the thought that he owned you, hearing you gurgle from the floor, droplets of his cum trickling down your chin and leaking unto the Cobra Kai pamphlet on the parquet in front of you. No, no. That wouldn't do. Not a single ounce wasted. -"Swallow."- Terry orders, catching his breath, scrutinizing you as you did so, still holding your hair, yanking forward suddenly, his cock falling out of your mouth, giving you leeway to breathe again and you do, gasping with sharp inhales of breath, a bubble of saliva popping between your lips as you rolled back to sob and cough. Pathetic. Eager to serve. So you were capable of shutting the fuck up, letting go and getting lost in an action after all? You were teachable. He knew you would be. Much like the rock slab on the training dummy, though, you needed to be broken in first. Terry slides his hand across the top of his head, slicking loose hair strands back, lifting up his finger to threaten and warn once again. Remind, in case you've forgotten. Had your brains scrambled in all sorts of awkward and unlikely directions. -"So, you better not miss out on any of my classes ever again or I'll have a reason to hold a very, very big grudge. Especially if you don't show up and break that stone like I've taught everyone to do. Understood?"-

-"Yes, Sensei."- You manage desperately, drooling, nodding your head.

[sailorsenshishitposter]

Mahito goes to kindergarten

Kenjaku walked down the sewers until he found what he was looking for.

"Mahito."

The curse glanced up. He had a paper in his hands and had just finished drawing something.

"Oh, hey Geto! Look at what I made!"

In Mahito's hands was a crudely drawn picture of some blue kind of creature, coated in armour. The words "happy birthday to me" plastered above.

"Is that your fursona? Actually, never mind. I have other matters to discuss."

"Like planning my birthday party?"

"You're only a few months old, it's far too early for that. Speaking of, shouldn't you be at school?"

"What's that? It sounds boring!"

"Jogo and I have already discussed the issue. You're young and need all the learning tools you can get. Mahito, you're being enrolled into kindergarten."

The curse jumped up and stomped his foot.

"No way!"

Suddenly Hanami showed up with Dagon and Jogo.

"...yrroS"

Now there were flowers blooming everywhere and Mahito had calmed down considerably. Hanami had also sprouted some hemp plants which Jogo promptly set on fire just as a backup plan. The curse was now high as a kite and was lacking his usual murderous aura.

"How do you feel?"

"Like I'm walking on clouds..."

Mahito then started playing with Jogo's face.

"No way! I never noticed that you have one eye. I'm gonna call you Mike Wazoski from now on!"

"Geto, get him off of me!"

"So it's settled. You'll be joining your classmates tomorrow morning."

"Don't think this changes anything! I want a birthday present and it better be a PlayStation 5!"

"Fine."

_______

It was the next day and Mahito was donning a blue uniform and a yellow hard hat.

"Are you sure they'll buy it?"

"Of course. Now run along and don't forget your lunchbox."

Kenjaku had specifically chosen an area where citizens were more likely to be able to see cursed spirits. He could have told Mahito to change his souls structure to resemble a child but he wanted payback, and had told the teacher that his "son" had a learning disability that caused him to be held back.

Mahito began to open his lunchbox.

"Lunchables, awesome! By Geto, see you later!"

He then ran off with a piece of toast in his mouth like it was a 90's anime.

Jogo then spoke up."Why are you really doing this?"

"Because he called my son a failure."

"But you always call your sons failures."

"Yes, but not Yuji."

_______

"Now children, we have a new student joining us today. Please say hello."

"Yo. My name's Mahito and I can do this really cool trick!"

He then began to vomit up transfigured humans. The classroom began to scream.

"Mahito, would you like me to take you to the nurses office?"

"It's fine. I'm not injured and if I was I could just change my soul."

"R-right..."

She then began to sweep away the strange "candy" that her student puked up.

"You may sit down wherever you'd like..."

The next thing she knew and Mahito was now sitting on her desk, causing the previously scared children to now laugh.

"Mahito, that's not a seat..."

"I guess you're right. Okay, I'll sit here then."The curse was now sitting in the teachers chair.

"Mahito, you need to get up!"

"But you said I could sit down anywhere!"

"Yes, but I meant in one of the seats over there."

She was now pointing to where the rest of the class was.

"Fine..." he angrily mumbled. He was definitely putting a whoopie cushion there later.

_______

After taking two hours to teach Mahito the alphabet (Hiragana and Kanji), it was now time for art class.

"Teacher, there's a problem!"

"Now, now, what is it?"

"It's the new boy! He keeps hogging all the crayons except for the white ones! I can't see my drawing even if I wanted too!"

"Let me deal with this."

She then went to find the trouble maker.

"Mahito! We need to have a discussion."

"Aww, but I'm busy!"

She looked down at the curse. He had just about every crayon you could imagine. Beneath her was a drawing of a girl who was missing an eye and a man that could only be described as a burn victim.

"W-what..., what is that?..."

Mahito was now grinning with joy.

"Sorcerers. I can't be bothered to remember their names though."

"Give me the crayons..."

"How about no!"

"Mahito!"

She tried to grab them but it was too late. He had swallowed them all in one gulp.

"...Alright everyone, it's time for recess!"

_______

While the teacher was trying not to have a nervous breakdown, Mahito began to take note of his surroundings.

"Sweet, bubbles!"

He then began to blow some of the mixture.

"Can I try some?"

Another child had made the grave mistake of talking to Mahito.

"Sure!"

The curse then threw the liquid into the child's eyes.

_______

The teacher could hear screaming and then swallowed another asprin.

"They said this job was supposed to be easy!"

_______

By the time she had made it outside, Mahito was using a jump rope as a whip while running after a group of children.

"EVERYONE INSIDE, NOW!"

Now it was lunch time and Mahito began to open up his lunchbox.

"Yay, lunchables!"

Then he looked closer.

"Wait a minute... This is kid cuisine!"

Mahito took the box and flung it.

"Too bad. I wanted to know what lead tastes like..."

He then decided that he was going to go swiper the fox style and sneak parts of other kids lunches when they weren't looking.

"All right, let's see what I caught!"

Enclosed in his hands was a button, some rice, a bandaid and a candy bar. He put his lips around the chocolate bar and began to bite it in half (not unlike how Gege killed Gojo). He then felt something sharp pierce his tongue. He pulled out the item and noticed that it was a razor blade.

"Wow, I didn't know KitKat's come with prizes now."

_______

Mahito began to notice children taking out blankets.

"What are they doing?"

"Don't you know Mahito, it's almost nap time."

"Nap time? No way, I wanna keep playing with the fidget spinners!"

She had finally had enough.

"Mahito, does this rag smell like chloroform to you?"

"What's chloro-"

The curse was now knocked out and the children began to clap.

"The evil is defeated!"

_______

When Mahito came to, he could hear parts of a conversation.

"I'm sorry but I can no longer teach your son. I reccomend that he be held back to preschool."

"My apologies. I know that he can be a bit of a handful."

"Ha!"

Mrs. Crandall lit her cigarette. Oh yeah, she was definitely getting wasted tonight.

"Hey sleepyhead. It seems like you're all tuckered out from your first day of school."

"PS5..."

"Yes, I didn't forget about that. Let's get you home first."

_______

The disaster crew were now seated as they waited for Geto. The door opened and the man had a large box in his arms.

"As promised, here's your reward-"

Mahito cut him off immediately and began to tear it open.

"Huh? What is this!?"

Jogo peered his head into the box.

"I don't understand all this technology but even I know math. Isn't this what you wanted?"

In the box contained a PS2 that was taped together to a PS3. There was also a copy of Knack for the PlayStation 4.

"I hate you!"

"The feeling is mutual. Happy Birthday!"