#stop those are actually shockingly accurate

[ofstormsandsaints]

@iricathel your take with your ocs got me curious, thanks for sharing it 🪻

Marion has appeared! What will you do?

Hold hands

Throw drink

Flatter

Kiss on the cheek

Zorya has appeared! What will you do?

Pet

Throw salt

Kneel down

Worship

[alexiroflife]

"fortunes"

crack, fluff, ft: first years

satoru gojo x reader

Synopsis: satoru walks in on you showing his students a paper fortune teller

to sum it up: no productivity occurs when you, satoru, and the students are together

WC: 1,489

Warning(s): none

“Where the hell are my students?” Satoru mumbles to himself when he makes his way to the training field and finds it completely empty. He raises a hand to his hip in thought. He thinks he told them to meet here, but not even Yuji is anywhere to be found. 

Strange.

He imagines he’s going to hear a mouthful and then some if Yaga somehow finds out about this, so the sorcerer searches everywhere for his kids; the gym, the dorms, classrooms, but still nothing. 

With his mind now completely riddled with confusion, he texts Megumi on his way to his office and, not shockingly, receives no reply. Gojo isn’t terribly shocked or worried, but a heads up if they decided to skip today would have been nice.

He throws open his office door with his face stuck in his phone when he looks up and finally locates all three of his missing students within his space. Satoru is surprised when he sees the kids crowding around your figure, which sits in his desk chair hunched over with a folded paper fortune teller in your hands. 

Itadori and Nobara lean in closer, engaged with the activity as Nobara demands to know if the fortune says anything about her becoming a model in the near future, while Itadori talks over her to beg you to do his fortune for the twentieth time. Megumi sits nearby and watches calmly.

When Satoru’s presence is made known, the four of you turn and look up at him, momentarily falling silent. You smile brightly when you see him. “Hi, Satoru! Sorry, I forgot to tell you I was visiting today.”

The white haired professor tucks his phone back into his pocket with a grin. “Baby!” he exclaims, sauntering over to you to lean down and kiss your cheek lovingly. “Stealing my students from me, I see,” he says smugly, rubbing your cheek softly with his thumb.

“She wouldn’t have had to if you weren’t twenty minutes late,” Fushiguro chimes in tiredly, and Satoru shrugs bashfully when you toss him a knowing look. 

“What can I say? I’m a busy man.”

“Gojo!” Itadori exclaims, rushing to stand from his previous “criss-cross” position on the floor at your feet. “Your wife was just showing us this cool game she said you used to play! Look, the paper shows you your future,” the pink haired teen points to the dome-shaped object clutched over your fingers and you beam, opening it back and forth proudly. 

“Ohhhh, I remember those!” Satoru exclaims quietly yet excitedly as he rests his hand on the back of his chair behind you, leaning over you to take a closer look. 

“I thought it’d be fun to show them while they waited since they’ve never made one before,” you say, handing the fortune teller to Satoru.

“And Yuji’s been hogging it this whole time,” Nobara crosses her arms and glares at the said boy angrily. “You had your fortune read at least fourteen times already.”

“Because I have to make sure I get the most accurate results!” he fumes, and the two start bickering once more.

“Man, we used to make these things all the time,” Satoru marvels. “It’s actually thanks to these fortune tellers that (Y/n) and I are even together now.”

The kids freeze, looking over at Satoru inquisitively. “Huh?” Nobara and Yuji unify, while you roll your eyes and Megumi tries to shrink away from the conversation completely, sensing incoming bullshit from a mile away. 

“Satoru, stop telling that lie,” you exhale and he looks down at you with a smirk.

“What? It’s true!” he swears.

“So it really works?” Itadori gasps, turning to his sensei with glittering eyes. Satoru only nods with a wide smile, holding up the paper in his grasp.

“Mhm. We were here at Jujutsu High, just about your age, and I had the fattest crush on the prettiest girl in school,” the blindfolded man reminisces and you groan to yourself, flushing and turning away. “We were all in a big friend group, so one day we all decided that we’d make some fortune tellers like we did when we were kids- you know, just for the fun of it. I filled one with a message saying ‘you will marry (Y/n) (L/n)’ and the rest was history.”

Nobara stares at him as if he is ridiculous, squinting her eyes and curling her lips while Yuji absorbs the entire story believingly.. “Wait… aren’t the fortunes random though? Wouldn’t that just mean that a bunch of other people got the same message that you wrote at one point?”

“And you wrote the fortune yourself,” Megumi adds. “I don’t think fortunes are supposed to work like that.”

“Well, sure, if you wanna get all technical, but it worked, didn’t it?” he beams, tossing the paper to Yuji and craning over to gather your cheeks in his hands adoringly, bringing your face to squish against his. “Now (Y/n) and I are happily married,” he coos, Nobara and Megumi practically gagging while Itadori blushes happily at the sentiment.

You grip Satoru’s wrists as he squeezes your cheeks, pouting when he presses another loud kiss to your temple. “Satoru, please, you’re gonna scare off the kids.”

“Mrs. Gojo! Make me one that says I’ll meet Megan Thee Stallion one day,” Yuji exclaims passionately, heart set on the notion that these fortunes are meant to breathe truth into manifestation.

“You pervert! Megan would never have the time to even think about meeting you,” Nobara argues.

“Not if it’s put into a fortune! You know what, I’ll do it myself!” he rushes around the office to find a new sheet of paper and slams it onto the floor, laying on his stomach to pour his intense focus into crafting a new fortune teller the way you showed them.

“If you’re gonna just write whatever you want, then put a message in there that says I’ll get famous,” she crouches beside him, and Yuji immediately shields her from his work with his forearm.

“No, go make your own! I don’t need your juju rubbing off on me and ruining my fortune’s accuracy.”

“That doesn’t even make sense!”

“I don’t care, just don’t touch mine!”

“Will you idiots shut up?” Megumi hisses, moving to stand over them as they bicker. “It’s a piece of damn paper for kids. Give it a rest already.”

The two on the floor turn to glare boredly at the Fushiguro, putting their feud on hold to ridicule him. “And that attitude right there, Megumi, is why your fortune will tell you that you’ll end up alone with forty cats in twenty years,” Itadori deadpans and Nobara nods enthusiastically.

Megumi grits his teeth and punches the top of Itadori’s head, the boy ducking and clutching his dome. “Like hell I will! I hate cats!”

“Then why don’t you be a little more positive, hm?” Nobara grins evilly, leading Megumi to tighten his fists.

“Give me that damn piece of paper,” he demands, reaching down for Yuji’s when the said boy yells and throws his body over his sheet to keep his friends away.

Gojo chuckles, watching the scene unfold as he pulls away slowly from you, rubbing your back gently. You shake your head with a small smile, gazing up at your husband. “You started this,” you accuse, to which he laughs.

“How could I possibly have when you’re the one who showed them the fortune teller?”

“Only because you were late to training,” you raise a brow.

He gives in. “Fair enough.”

“You think they’ll make it to training today?”

“Mmmm,” Satoru thinks for a moment, watching his students fight to write their own little desires on a paper that holds no further power outside of your own conviction. “Nah. I'll give them the day. They’ve been working hard.”

You smile. “Okay,” you nod. “Just don’t let Yaga know about this.”

“If you promise to keep it a secret, we won’t have anything to worry about,” the white haired man says suavely, ducking down to meet your eyes. Though his blindfold serves as a barrier, you can feel his gaze soaking you in. 

You click your teeth with a playful smile. “Fine,” you say, and his grin widens, lips meeting yours swiftly with his hand pressed to his desk and the other still gripping the back of your seat. He kisses you once more on the corner of your mouth then pushes himself up, turning his focus back to his students.

“Alright, guys, whoever makes the most fortune tellers in the next five minutes gets to pick the place to eat tomorrow after the mission!”

You watch as further chaos ensues, papers flying and arguments rising, Satoru standing blissfully in the midst of it all. You sigh once more and prop your chin in your hand, pondering over how Satoru gets away with this behavior as a teacher so often.

[pommunist]

In relation to the "Quackity was losing money from the qsmp!!!" point that people bring up in defence of him, like... tbh in my opinion quackity probably could have made quite a bit of money in subs and donos if he ever actually... streamed on his server.....

Via twitchtracker from march 2023 to march 2024 (this is the timeline i use for all numbers/averages in this unless otherwise stated, also i use 1 year for emphasis sometimes even when meaning 13 months, start of march last year to end of march this year) The highest amount of subs quackity (on his main channel, quackitytoo's subs stats arent available) has received within a month (ie. subcount at end of month) is 2.7k in august 2023, with quite a few months dipping below 1k, and the lowest being just over 500 in july 2023 (Though he also only streamed once in the entire month, so this is understandable), coming to an average of 1.6k subs/month. While his average viewer count across those 13 months was about 35.1K, with a high of just under 65k average in august 2023, and a low of 22k average in january. (This is across all categories of game/just chatting)

Only 48 of quackity's main channel streams (67 total if im not miscounting) in that time were under the category minecraft (71%), with over half of them being in the first 4 months of qsmp (really mostly the first 3 months because it started in late march). With only 13 streams in the category in the latter half of 2023, and 8 in 2024.

To compare, ill use badboyhalo as an example: (Im using him because the vast majority of his streams were qsmp until recently, and i didnt want someone to try and say "but they stream other things!" to discredit this (even though so does quackity), and of the other streamers who have been on the qsmp since the start either a) They "stream other stuff" (ie. not qsmp, including other minecraft like phil's hardcore) often so it "wouldnt count", b) Their subs arent tracked on twitchtracker (its opt-in), or c) They stopped playing on the server/very very rarely play on the server so i cant accurately compare the full timeline. I could have probably also used foolish but bbh came to mind first (And his sub stats weirdly stop tracking in october 2023? I assume because that's when he changed his twitch channel name?))

Bbh's highest number of subs in a month was may 2023 with 4k, with his lowest being just under 400 in march 2023 (only 4 streams that month, so again this is understandable), across march'23-march'24, he got an average of 1.8k subs/month. To compare viewers, bbh's average viewcount across those 13 months was 3.7k (nearly 10 times lower than quackity), with his lowest being 1.7k average viewers in march 2024, and highest being 6k average viewers in september 2023. (again across all categories)

(Im not counting by hand all the times he's streamed in the category minecraft, but seeing as its nearly daily its over 300)

Of course, you could use the argument "Bbh streams every day for so long!", and like... Yeah. He does. In the past 13 months bbh has streamed for 2.1k hours. Quackity has streamed 106. One hundred and six hours. Quackity has streamed on his main channel less in a year than bbh streams in one month (avg 163 hours/month if anyone's wondering). And yet their average subs/month are only about 200 apart. No wonder hes apparently too broke to pay his employees fairly.

At time of sending this ask quackity has 6.3 million followers on twitch, bbh has 2.6 million. They have a drastic difference in followers and viewcount, and yet their subcounts are still so shockingly close to eachother.

If quackity needed money to pay for server costs or to pay his employees that badly he definitely could have made more by doing his job streaming more consistently. He doesn't even need to do it as much or as often as bbh does, seeing as hes already very close to bbh in average subs/month on his main channel with his incredibly low number of streams.

And again none of this factors in quackity's streams on his second channel, where he streams more often and for longer, because twitchtracker doesnt track that channel's subcount (again, it's opt-in) so i cant factor that in to how much he hypothetically makes. But as for the other stats on quackitytoo: 35.7k avg viewers, 168 total hours streamed (13 hrs/month), 65 streams in the category minecraft (march 23rd-now, though i might be off by a couple, my brain is fried for numbers at this point), and 4.6 million followers. Based on this, he most likely has a similar or higher amount of subs than his main channel on that one.

And this entire thing doesn't factor in donations at all seeing as that is a 3rd party thing and not something twitchtracker tracks.

Sidenote about the "in the category minecraft" thing: twitchtracker will include a stream in the category stats even if you forgot to change categories before starting stream playing/doing something else. So there are some "minecraft" streams where the time spent in the category is under 15 minutes, or if a stream crashes and restarts it will count as a separate stream. I still tried to count these to give the most benefit of the doubt

(In case anyone is curious about the foolish stats: (again across all categories, seeing as he does play quite a bit of valorant), viewers avg 6.7k/month, total hours streamed 2.4k, avg 190 hrs/month, subs avg (march-october 2023 because of the lack of tracking afterwards) 6.7k/month, ~250 streams in the category minecraft, and 2.1mil followers. Also, before anyone complains about only using english streamers to compare, the only spanish speaking streamer whos been on qsmp from the start and still logged on consistently through the entire year is roier, and his subs also arent tracked. And none of the other languages were there from the very start.)

Sorry about how long this ask got (i bolded the numbers to make skimming easier for anyone who's not reading all that). I just got so curious about people defending Q by saying how the server running costs meant paying his employees fairly was too expensive that i went to check the actual stats, and i was kinda shocked by how low everything but viewcount was. Of course, I never believed quackity was a "millionare" by any standard, but im also not a viewer of his so i didn't know how much/how often (how little/how rarely*) he actually streamed.

And as a final thing, I have no idea how truly accurate twitchtracker's subcount numbers are (and the wording is a bit confusing on the graphs, which is what i interpreted as "# subs at end of month/subs gained within month" seeing as subs last 30 days (i think?)), as I'm not a streamer and I don't personally subscribe to any streamers. I just know that streamers themselves see it as accurate enough for the "highest current/all-time subcount" records. So i guess that's to say disclaimer: this is all just estimates.

WHAT THE HELL ANON ? Ever thought of having a career in financial/statistical analysis because if not maybe you should consider.

I’ll admit that I don’t know anything about how exactly twitch revenue works so I can’t really make comments on what you just said, but I’ll leave it here for anyone who may be interested in the numbers side of things and this seems like quite the thorough investigation.

I just wanna add that, depending of the societal form of the company, Individual fund may be separated from company funds. Aka Quackity’s money ≠ Qstudios money.

[racingliners]

⭐ for tros, please! xx

fanfic writers directors cut

Again there is SO MUCH I want to talk about with TRoS!!! Like I could go full PowerPoint presentation, but alas it's twenty to 11 at night as I'm typing this so that'll have to be for another day.

So for now, I'm gonna talk about the podium scene in the Spanish GP chapter!

(Under a read more, I got chatty.)

So with Seb being Chief Strategist there was always the possibly of him being picked as a Constructor's representative for the podium and I 1. obviously wanted to write about Seb getting soaked in champagne while wearing a famous white Merc shirt and 2. wanted it to be a Lewis win for Sewis reasons.

The way I do worldbuilding for AUs means that I like to include echos or references of canon/IRL events. In this case in the 2017 season Lewis and Seb were 1-2 on the podium at the Spanish GP, as well as sharing so many podiums over their careers, as well as having a Seb-Lewis-Jenson podium at Barcelona in 2011, so I really wanted to make reference to both of those races.

I also wanted to play around in the "How does Engineer!Seb feel about his F1 career and does he ever miss or think about what he could have had?" sandbox.

Hence why I opened the chapter with the following paragraph:

Sebastian hadn’t been able to pinpoint the exact moment he’d stopped feeling like an imposter when he walked through the paddock entrance. It had just… happened. He’d scanned his pass while chatting with James Vowles and stopped feeling the watchful eyes of every paddock photographer, pundit, commentator and journalist leering on him. He no longer felt like Seb the Red Bull prodigy turned reject playing dress up, but that he finally matched the words on his accreditation – Sebastian Vettel, Chief Strategist at Mercedes AMG Petronas Motorsport. (It was a wordy job title, but he adored every single letter).

Sebastian's happy, and most importantly comfortable in his new role in the F1 world. That is until he's told that he's been picked to be the Constructor's rep on the podium and a lot of stuff shoots up to the surface.

As Seb looked into James’ kind eyes, all he felt was a slight tightening in his chest. And yet, he didn’t want to let anyone down, or more accurately didn’t want to disrespect the team, by saying no. “It’s just champagne Seb,” James Allison clapped a heavy hand on Sebastian’s shoulder that just about managed to pull him back into the present. The bright blue sky, the roar of the crowd, the concrete beneath his feet, and the eyes of all of his colleagues now trained on him. “You might actually enjoy it.” Seb half forced himself to let out a small laugh and nervously pulled at his ear. “If you wanted to see me soaking wet before now, you should have just asked.” He said with a shy grin, and thankfully everyone either rolled their eyes or tutted instead of looking at Seb with concerned glances.

Seb Vettel 101: When faced with the realisation that 10 years after having your F1 driving career crushed to pieces you're finally going to stand on the winners step of the podium - be slutty to distract your colleagues from your impending crisis.

Sidenote, writing about Seb and his developing friendships with the other Mercedes engineers makes me so happy, you cannot even begin to imagine

I was in two minds for the longest time about whether or not to write the podium from Seb's or Lewis' POV, I eventually settled on Lewis because I wanted him to have his "oh wait Seb's kinda hot" moment, because as we know the Mercedes engineers look very good in their champagne sodden shirts.

But before I switched POVs, Lewis in typical Lewis fashion bounds into the cool down room on cloud nine and he manages to lift Seb's spirit just enough that he willingly walks onto the podium of his own free will. And (shockingly) Seb actually has a very nice time. (Mercedes 101: Always listen to James Allison).

As the British anthem ended and the German one began, he went to glance down at his mechanics, but hearing a quiet but definitely there voice singing stopped him. Sure enough when Lewis looked over his right shoulder and peered past Jenson, he could just make out Seb quietly mouthing the words to the German anthem. Lewis quickly looked away, not wanting to make Seb feel embarrassed, and quietly smiled to himself as he inhaled the warm afternoon air and felt the sunshine on his face. ... He set the trophy down so he would have his hands free to applaud Sebastian, who stared at the constructors trophy wide eyed and slightly breathless. He nervously shook the hand of the official who presented it to him, and looked at the trophy for a couple of seconds before his face split into a familiar bright grin, and he lifted it up into the air to the cheers of all his teammates gathered below, and the quiet applause of Lewis a couple of metres away. He was briefly taken aback by just how relieved Sebastian looked.

Something Seb was always meant to be on a podium with a winner's trophy something.

“Alright!” Seb shouted loudly over the podium music as champagne dripped from the tips of his hair. “Fuck, you got me.” Lewis burst out laughing as he turned to face the crowd and sprayed over the edge of the podium fence towards the team before looking back to see Seb wiping champagne from his eyes. Lewis stepped back up to the top step of the podium, and gestured for Sebastian to join him. He hesitated before slowly climbing the podium steps, and accepted the now half empty bottle when Lewis offered it to him. “Have they always been this heavy?” Seb asked once he’d taken a long sip, weighing the bottle in his hands. Lewis just nodded and put a hand on Seb’s shoulder, smiling at him proudly. “Back where you belong mate.” Lewis said quietly looking right into Seb’s eyes, not wanting the other two drivers to hear. Seb choked out a small laugh before he set the bottle of champagne down by Lewis’ feet. His bright blue eyes still wide and sparkling. “Back where we belong.” He pulled Lewis in for a long hug before either of them had the chance to say anything else. They kept their arms round each other’s shoulders as they stood for the podium photograph, before people walked out carrying team caps and microphones and Seb was quietly asked to leave. He quickly shook hands with Jenson and Daniel before jumping down off the podium. “Hey Seb!” Lewis called out, and Sebastian paused as he went to pick up the constructors trophy. “Wait for me?” “I will.” He said with a smile, and Lewis watched as Seb carried the trophy out of view.

I wanted Seb to mis-remember what some parts of being on a podium (the size of the cooldown room, the weight of the champagne bottles etc) so that when he experiences it for real, it sort of shatters the image he had previously held in his mind and he realises that podiums are fun actually!!! And where he and Lewis belong!!!!! (As the author I DID wail out loud when I came up with that piece of dialogue, thanks for asking😭😭😭).

And yes, dear reader, Seb does wait for Lewis because they're just Like That™️ about each other. To which, we finally lead to, Big Revelation 1 of The Rules of Strategy:

“You good?” Lewis asked, putting a firm hand on his shoulder while looking Seb up and down. “Yeah, I’m fine.” Seb nodded with a breathy sigh. “I missed it, standing on a podium.” Seb bit down on his bottom lip and looked down at the floor as his grin grew even wider. His shirt was still soaked through, accentuating the toned muscles of his torso. For some reason Lewis just couldn’t stop looking at Seb while he wistfully glanced out of the window back towards the podium. The way the sun hit Seb’s hair made it look like it was gilded with gold. ... Lewis shook his head, and forcefully pulled his mind back into focus for his post-race media duties, not wanting Jenson or Daniel to see that he was distracted – even though Lewis wasn’t entirely sure just what had briefly confused him.

Seb is hot and this is the hill I will die on.

Lewis, being Lewis, off-screen fixes his brain back into PR mode and then into driver mode for the post-race debrief so he probably tucks that train of thought deep down in his brain where it can't bother him (when it's actually going to be a surprise tool that will help us later).

I loved coming up with and writing this chapter as it's the first shift in the development of Seb and Lewis' relationship. It's definitely still professional and platonic at this stage, but seeds have been planted at the very least on Lewis' side and things are slowly starting to grow.

[namor-shuri]

Your tags on my venn diagram post are gold and should be a fic.

LMAOOO not me forgetting y’all read my tags 😭 Look, your venn diagram is accurate af and I really hope you bless us with more. The world wants to see these talented men come together and team up on a project [or in my case, tag team me]. But hey, I support both scenarios. Your fic comment got me thinking “what if I actually wrote a fantasy, porn without plot one shot about them?” So then I attempted it [HEAVY on attempt because I haven’t written a fic before 🥲] But here goes nothing *gulps*. Hope you like it op! @scruffylookingpiratecaptain 💗 *deletes my entire account and moves across state lines afterwards* lol

- - - - - - - - x x x - - - - - - - -

Gael Bernal Diego Luna Tenoch Huerta Pedro Pascal Oscar Isaac

“I want to fuck like we’re filming in the valley.”

**Warnings/ Disclaimers: NSFW, 18+, group sex, language, fiction [this is only intended to be fantasy], porn without plot**

We have a routine down. They stop by my apartment Friday night, fuck me, we eat together, and then they leave. Repeat. No cuddles. No pillow talk. No strings attached. No bullshit. Just straight fucking. I would be lying through my teeth if I said I didn’t develop feelings somewhere along the way for each and every one of them, but I’ll take that to my grave.

It wasn’t always like this.

It first started off with just Tenoch and I. We met one another through a drunk threesome one night after a friend’s birthday party. We instantly clicked and he quickly learned how to turn me on. The man could make me cum round after round till I forgot my first and last name. He knew all the right buttons to push and he got me hooked on him quickly. His dick game drove me insane and I hated that it admittedly elevated my standards for any man who was blessed to be entangled in my sheets. We became a casual “friends with benefits” type of a situation until one day he wanted to spice things up between us.

“Have you ever had sex with more than one guy at the same time?” He asks me out of the blue while we chill at a nearby cafe.

To my surprise, he wanted to add more guys to the mix. I wasn’t opposed to the idea but was honestly a little concerned at first.

“I want to watch other guys fuck you while I take part. That would be so fucking hot, you know? And I promise you would be safe, no funny business. I know these guys. They’re good guys, trust me. What do you think?”

Call me a whore. Lonely. Bored. A pick me. A girl with daddy issues. Some twenty-something big tit wide-eyed naive bitch finding intimacy in all the wrong places. Whatever. I could care less. I don’t need the judgement from my girlfriends, friends, family, or coworkers and I sure as hell don’t need it from you. The only thing that was running through my mind in that very moment was having an adventure and so I kept our little arrangement to myself. No one has to know.

I sipped my drink watching him over the rim of my cup. He met my gaze with those curious eyes of his like he was trying to read my mind. I looked down and smirked, finally swallowing.

“I’m in.”

*bzzzzz*

Like clockwork, Tenoch always came by my apartment first. I opened the door to the sight of this goober holding a pack of beers and striking a funny pose with damp curls. He must of showered before heading over because he smelled heavenly.

“Hey beautiful.” He kissed my forehead then waltzed right in, draping his stuff over a nearby chair.

We made small talk about his shit boss and how she underpays her staff. “And now she’s doing layoffs!” In this economy?? I crack open a couple of beers for us and hear the doorbell ring. “Tenoch, can you get that?” Diego and Oscar are here. Funny enough, they live in another apartment complex only a couple of streets down. What are the odds, right? Shockingly it’s not weird, but hopefully it stays that way.

Tenoch throws a movie on while I pop open a bag of chips Oscar brought over. Gael swings by next and as always, without fail, Pedro comes last. Hours later, I might add!

“Sorry for the delay guys, I had an emergency come up.”

We all boo him in unison while Tenoch throws a cheeto at his head.

“I don’t deserve this abuse! I promise I have a good excuse this time.” Pedro chuckles, dodging another chip successfully.

Yeah don’t feel bad for him. This fucker always has an “emergency”. He couldn’t be on time if his actual life depended on it.

“Blah blah blah. Just hurry up and sit down. You’re interrupting an important part of the movie dipshit. Mulan is meeting Mushu.” Oscar excitedly motions him over to the couch like we all haven’t seen this masterpiece 50+ times already.

I giggle and look around at everyone enjoying themselves. I have a lot of fun with them. I mean outside of our little scheduled orgy we got going on, I truly enjoy their companionship. I know they have my back and I have theirs. I wouldn’t dare be sappy and say this out loud but I love these guys and would do anything for them.

What’s wild to me is even though we have made this a routine by now, they still get shy around me before we start. No one wants to make me feel uncomfortable and I appreciate that more than they’ll ever know, but someone has to have the balls to make the first move. Thankfully, Diego does. He starts to massage the back of my neck while we all laugh at Mushu screaming “dishonor on you, dishonor on your cow!” He looks over at me and notices me purr in approval. While his hand works out the kinks in my neck, he leans in and sensually kisses the side of my neck licking all the way up to my earlobe, catching it in between his teeth. He whispers sweet nothings in my ear about how gorgeous I am and how he can satisfy me better than any of these so called “men” here. I know it’s all for the fantasy factor but fuck does it turn me on. Only I can hear his ramblings and that gets me even hotter. He invades my personal space and breathes me in deep. I tilt my head and expose my throat to him like a cat on it’s back surrendering. Mark me, Diego. I start to squirm in my seat. I can feel my wetness already pooling in my panties.

My whimpers play over the movie and Oscar proceeds to join in on the fun. He directs my attention towards him and softly cups my cheek before going in for a blistering kiss. I close my eyes and let him lick into my mouth greedily. I surrender to his demanding touch while Diego starts to leave a trail of hickeys from my neck down to my clavicle.

Gael gets up from the other side of the couch and kneels down in front of me. He carefully unties my shoes and slips off my socks. He starts to caress my legs and massage my feet, looking up at me with heat behind his eyes. I watch his eyes shift to peek underneath my skirt. I’m trying to get friction to my clit by grinding my thighs together but Gael holds my legs in place with a strong grip. He then slides his hands slowly up my thighs till he gets to his destination. He hooks his finger over the top of my lingerie and brings them down one inch at a time, leaving a trail of hot kisses along the way.

I shutter as the air immediately exposes my wetness, revealing my sweet arousal. Gael finally slips my panties off and takes in its dampness. Oscar distracts me by gliding his hand over my breasts till he settles on my neck, roughly gripping my throat while he licks up into my ear.

I yelp.

“Be gentle.” Tenoch possessively asserts while he comes over and starts to pull his shirt over his head, exposing his happy trail and tattoo.

“Calm down. I’m only doing what the slut likes.” Oscar counters, looking over at Tenoch with a challenging stare before directing his sexual frustration back to me.

“Isn’t that right, baby? I want to hear you beg for Daddy.” He taunts while I make eye contact with him through submissive eyes. I’m thoroughly turned on right now and he knows it. Oscar’s tight grip on my neck is sending me over the edge and I want more. I need more. His authority is sending waves of pleasure through out my entire body and my hair raises on my arms. My pierced nipples start to harden and peak through my shirt and a wave of desire goes straight to my cunt.

Diego ceases to kiss my shoulder and looks down at my pebbled flesh.

“Well, would you look at that. Our brat likes to be choked.”

Diego goes to undress my top half and unclasps my bra with a swiftness. My breasts spill out of their cups one by one and he fondles one nipple as he laps up the other in his mouth eagerly. My breath hitches. I bite my lip, holding in a strangled noise.

Pedro moves over to my line of vision and begins to unbotton his pants in front of me, giving me a show. He starts touching himself as we lock eyes and creates a mess in his jeans. He whips out his exuding member and I shamelessly stare, taking in all of its glory. He watches me watch him and delights in the attention. This fucker.

“You like what you see, sweetheart? It’s all yours, just be a good girl and open your mouth wide for me.”

I love it when he calls me his good girl and tells me what to do. He doesn’t repeat himself twice. Ever. Whatever Pedro wants, Pedro gets. I pay the consequence if I misbehave. But God, do I love misbehaving.

I don’t budge one inch and go to kiss Oscar, dismissing Pedro’s very existence. That sets him off. Mission accomplished.

“Alright, play times over Princess.” he snarls.

Pedro yanks me away from Diego and Oscar by my hair and forces me forward to the edge of the couch, bringing me at eye level with his hardened cock. He holds my head firm in place as he steadily rubs his throbbing wood over my lips, painting them with his pre-cum. His breath goes ragged and his composure quickly diminishes. He wants this badly, but so do I. Pedro shoves his dick past my lips to the back of my throat without warning and I can see his pupils blow from his dominance over me. He tastes like sea salt and musk. I bring my hands up to grip his shaft and brace myself on his waist, sliding back and forth. He’s rough with me and forces me all the way down till my nose touches his pubes. I gag and my eyes starts to water. He finally releases his grip on me, and I exhale and spit on his dick. I go in for seconds and savor the taste, licking circles around his sensitive tip.

“Ah, just like that.” He affirms, letting his head fall back.

Everyone moves to claim a piece of my flesh to grab, squeeze, suck or fuck. I aspire to be their personal fuck toy to use and abuse for their own selfish gain. Is that too much to ask for?

Oscar repositions me on the couch so that I’m flat on my back as I resume sucking Pedro off. He pushes my skirt up out of the way and coats his fingers with saliva. He begins to slick up my folds, steadily working his way into my tight entrance. “Look at you.” He coos. He kneels down and without hesitation shoves his face into my juices and begins to devour me whole. He licks a line from my tight asshole to my sopping pussy lips and engulfs my clit with his large tongue. He hums around it, sending a wave of vibration to my core.

I loudly moan with Pedro’s penis down my throat, generating a low growl from him. I take him out of my mouth and start to plead as Oscar relentlessly works my sensitive clit with no sign of letting up. He sets my body aflame with little to no effort and it’s truly diabolical.

Tenoch comes to my side and begins to gently massage my breasts, bending down and taking one nipple in his mouth while he jerks himself off. Oscar prys my legs open to stop me from squirming. The overwhelming sensation of his scruff on my bundle of nerves is killing me and the mix of pain and pleasure is intoxicating. Gael grabs my calf and begins to suck my toes, one by one while touching himself. He closes his eyes and takes his time savoring them greedily. He sucks and sucks like he’s making love to them and perverted noises start to fill up the room. My body riddles with ecstasy and the heat in my lower belly grows.

Diego squeezes some lube on his hand and continues to jerk himself off while watching this provocative scene unfold in front of him. He comes over to my side and replaces his hand with mine on his leaking erection. I slowly jerk him off while not breaking eye contact with him.

I can feel my arousal taking over. My brain is having trouble functioning and focusing on one particular thing at once. I am incoherent. I know I definitely heard my phone go off three separate times by now. Mulan is already beating Shan Yu’s ass on the roof. My AC unit turned off about an hour ago and it’s hot as shit in here. But none of these distractions matter to me right now. My ears tune into the sweet symphony of their joint moans and hisses, while I witness their hungry eyes fixate on me, mouths slightly parted in a fucked out bliss. The air is thick with sweat, sex and sin.

I come to and feel Oscar between my legs as I jerk Diego off with purpose while Pedro tilts my head towards him and fucks into my mouth, panting with each thrust. I create a tight vacuum, swallowing him with intense suction that my lips create a *pop* sound when I let go. He curses under his breath in satisfaction.

Tenoch breaks things up and takes control. He grabs hold of me and tears me away from everyone’s touch. He picks me up with one arm and lays back on the couch’s sweaty surface before positioning me on top of him. I straddle his waist and lean down for a kiss, exchanging fluids in a raunchy french kiss. He matches my energy and sucks on my tongue. Fuck, he’s such a freak. We continue to make out as he reaches over my ass and rubs my entrance in a circular motion, slowly dragging his thick digits along my folds. Tenoch replaces his fingers with his slick dick and coats his penis in my juices before tapping himself on my clit. Oscar prepared me for the taking and Tenoch is about to have his way with me. His thick cock promptly slides right into my walls and we moan in each other’s mouths. I’m convinced my vagina was made to please him. I try and adjust to his thickness, slowly making room for his size. My greedy cunt eventually swallows him whole. He gasps in approval. I dig my nails into his big chest as I begin to ride him, throwing my head back. Oscar promptly grabs my neck from behind and whispers nasty shit in my ear while I take Tenoch’s cock like a good girl. Tenoch holds onto my waist with a bruising grip, displaying his possessiveness over me. He sits up on one elbow and sucks my sensitive nipples, playing with my piercing with his tongue in a circle motion. My cunt flutters around him, making him buck.

Goosebumps break out all over my skin as a chill runs down my spine. I whine loudly, succumbing to my pleasure in waves. The sounds of Tenoch’s dick slamming into my tight hole as my ass cheeks hit his pelvis is delicious and it makes me wetter each thrust. He’s giving it to me so good right now but Oscar decides to test how much I can truly take at once.

He cups my ass and halts my bouncing. Tenoch’s member slowly slides out. He grabs my cheeks and spreads me wide, admiring the stretch of my asshole and vagina with his tight grip. Oscar leans in and dips his tongue in and out of both holes, indulging in my natural taste. He pulls back and spits on my tight asshole. He sucks his thumb first before bringing his slick finger to my hole, spreading his spit in a circular motion. Oscar deepens the pressure until his thumb successfully slides in.

A raspy moan leaves my lips and I cry out.

“Mmmm I know baby, I know. Daddy knows what to do.“ He confidently mutters between pants. He’s so turned on right now.

He spits on his pointer and middle finger next, slipping in two digits and stretching me out. His calculated process is driving me crazy and my thighs tremble around Tenoch’s waist. I gasp and stop sucking and jerking off Pedro and Diego, focusing on my breathing.

“Don’t be greedy Oscar, there’s enough of her to go around.” Tenoch gripes, assisting in spreading my cheeks to give Oscar better access. I whimper in anticipation.

Oscar continues to work open my hole with a squirt of lube, fucking me with his fingers until he deems I’m ready for his thick shaft. I grow impatient.

“Ah…f-fuck me Oscar, please. I need you!”

Pedro starts to laugh.

“Stop playing with your food Oscar. The lady is getting tired of you.”

“I thought you like when Daddy plays with you, baby.” Oscar taunts before spontaneously slapping both of my ass cheeks one by one, again and again and again. Left. Right. Left. Right. He spanks me so hard that the pain becomes unbearable. Tenoch proceeds to choke me, holding my neck in place. I scream but no sound comes out. My voice is hoarse from sucking and fucking. Gael ducks down and starts to suck on my nipple while twisting the other between two fingers, playing with its jewelry.

Once he deems me ready, Oscar takes his throbbing wood in hand and aligns his coated head with my stretched hole. He grabs some lube one last time, lathers me up and slides in. He takes his time to make sure he doesn’t hurt me but I want it now. He relishes in my tightness and cusses under his breath. Tenoch licks his fingers and lubricates my pussy with his saliva before re-entering me. My eyes roll back with the overstimulation of being filled to the brim. They start to move together in unison and I resume bouncing on both Tenoch’s and Oscar’s dicks together. Oscar looks down, watching himself go in and out of my ass, cheeks bouncing back on his pelvis and jiggling. He bites his lip from the glorious sight.

“Fuck y-your so tight…ah-“ They both rant together.

Sounds of skin slapping skin echo throughout my entire apartment and Oscar steadily grips my shoulder while Tenoch grabs my waist. I feel like I am being split in two as my holes stretch and adjust to being double penetrated. A bitch is on cloud nine and I can barely string two sentences together. They are deep in my guts and I think I’m going to black out from the overwhelming sensation. This is a ride I never want to get off of. Tenoch picks up the pace and fucks up into me with no mercy while Oscar follows suit. He looks determined, sweat dripping down his forehead. Tenoch gawks at my bouncing breasts in his face, matching the fast pace. He reaches down and thumbs my clit.

My orgasm is on the rise and I can feel my climax is near.

“Daddy, I’m….I’m close!” I moan.

Gael lets go of my breast and runs to grab my vibrator from my bedroom. He turns it to the setting I like and places it close to Tenoch’s groan so that it’s touching my clit at the right angle. He looks up at me as my mouth falls open. I’m slowly becoming undone and can’t hold on any longer.

Diego makes the split decision to get up on the couch and position himself in line to face fuck me. He holds my hair as I bounce and proceeds to have his way with me. I moan around his dick as spit pools and drips down my chin. Pedro leans down and fondles a breast while biting one nipple just the way I like it.

It was truly a sight to see. A real group effort. The one group project where everybody wins. My question is why didn’t we think to film any of this and post it to porn sites world wide or only fans and make millions?? You should have seen us! We fucked like real professionals. I could see it now: “Sexy whore takes 5 big cocks like a champ” as the title. Hmmm. Now that I think about it, we would have probably ran into some copyright issues with Mulan playing in the background. The “A girl worth fighting for” song blasting at full volume was a nice touch though.

I feel myself choking on his penis and Diego reminds me to breath through my nostrils as he shoves my head forward. He yanks me off of his dick to give me a second to breath and a string of saliva connects from my lips to his tip. He slaps me a bit and roughly grabs my cheeks. Diego leans in for a sloppy kiss and purrs “that’s my fucking slut.” He’s genuinely proud of me.

“Now suck!” He demands and plunges back into my mouth without any hesitation. He’s pumping me so fucking good while his thrusts start to become sporadic and his breath goes ragged. I know he’s close. He slips his throbbing dick out of my mouth and readjusts so that I give his neglected balls some lovin. He bites his lip in approval.

“I’m cumming…I’m cu-“ Tenoch goes silent as he spills his hot seed deep into my swollen pussy. My vagina pulses around him as I feel him paint my walls. I shake involuntarily as he comes down off of his high. His dick slides out of me and goes limp, while his seed leaks down my thigh. He lays there catching his breath as everyone continues to use me for their own satisfaction. He watches me bounce on top of him as Oscar continues to pound me from behind.

I quickly follow suit and climax hard, squirting all over Tenoch with Oscar deep in my ass, Pedro sucking my nipple rings hard, Gael rubbing my clit with my vibrator on high and Diego stuffing his balls in my mouth.

Everyone let’s go of me for a second as I buckle and grip Tenoch’s chest before completely collapsing on top of him. All of my energy leaves my body. He catches me in his arms and caresses my back, making sure I’m okay. He kisses my forehead and I feel his chest rise and fall.

Once my breath evens out, I look up and see everyone staring at me with concern. The Mulan end credits continue to roll on the TV. I sheepishly look around and immediately get shy in front of them for the first time.

“So…..round two?”

- - - - - - - - x x x - - - - - - - -

[some-pers0n]

Genuinely insane that even HH’s only good episode still kinda sucks. Masquerade manages to do the incredible and make me actually feel bad for one of its characters only to immediately take me out of it with the expositionary dialogue. Angel talking felt like someone reading off a summary of his character and Husk’s advice was almost enough for me to ignore that until he launched into Loser Baby, which felt less like a “Things are bad, yes, but you have to stop justifying your isolation by saying that no one understand and learn how to move forwards with those you love.” and more like kicking him when he was down.

Charlie was also made to hold the idiot ball this episode. Not with how she entered the studio, that was a shockingly accurate to why you can’t just storm up to an abuser and demand that they knock it off, with her apology in the ending. It knocked me right back to the same indifference-annoyance combo I felt when watching the other episodes. The way she immediately gets all wishy-washy and reacts like how the audience is supposed to “He said he forgaveeeeee meeeeee” feels so out of place with the rest of the stuff episode’s content it made me lose any thoughts that were saying “Huh, this might actually be good.” It’s been a while and I’m still not over it.

I gotta be honest and say I wish Masquerade came in a hypothetical season 2 that focused more on the V's as opposed to Heaven. By season 2, we would've been more acquainted with Angel and picked up on some hints that he's pretty unhappy with his job and being used. Then, it would be elaborated upon in this episode. It'd be more topical (I always thought the V's stuff in the show was jarring since it never went anywhere and didn't feel right) and be better paced.

The dialogue I also felt was off too, but that could be from, again, poor pacing and not fleshing out these characters. Angel going from playful and flirty to dead-serious and such feels odd, but had the show had placed him in scenarios where he needed to ground himself a little more, I think that'd be better.

Loser Baby is also a great song, but jesus christ it sucks as a means of which to help Angel. Yeah yeah Loser Baby exists because Angel definitely wouldn't believe a typical "heeyyyy everything is nice and okay :]]]" talk. Loser Baby catches his attention and he falls into it because it talks about him being a shitty person. A loser.

I think it should've come at least an episode after Masquerade. Waiting for Angel to get back up a little.

Charlie being the pushy idiot here was also irritating. They needed to have some character come in and be annoying and bother Val so that it shows how abusive he is, but c'mmmoonnnn mannn.. I get it shows Charlie's character as an idealistic and optimist who wants to help people even if they don't want it, a flaw without a doubt, but it feels like it is more there to make Val upset than anything and not to show Charlie's character. A plot device. She's just...yeah, bothersome

[darkandstormydolls]

Another new costume: historical this time!

I’ve wanted to get into historical costuming for a long long time, it’s just taken a while to a. figure out the skills and knowledge needed and b. get all of the pieces done (because of course I had to pick a complicated dress from a complicated decade). I’ve technically been working on this outfit since last fall; I made the chemise and corset back in August or September of last year, I don’t exactly remember, for another costume. I know undergarments are pretty much the most important thing for historical costuming, but MY GOODNESS do they take a while. In addition to the ones mentioned above, I also made a bustle, a detachable ruffled overlay, and a petticoat (the bustle overlay is made out of Halloween fabrics with bats and skeletons and things because of the theory of “no one’s gonna see it, so why not make it wildly anachronistic and fun?”)

The dress itself has three parts: a base skirt with three layers of trim (which took and eternity and a half to pleat), and overskirts with all the floofy fabric (there are tapes inside to hold it into those puffs in the front) and the bodice. That one I don’t think took the longest, but it was definitely the most complicated; interlining, boning at the seams, handsewing of bias tape hems at the top and bottom, a million seams, and so much trim, and that’s not even counting the fact that I had to take it apart and resew it after the first attempt. The buttons down the from were supposed to be velvet to match the ribbons, but the velvet was too thick and didn’t fit in the button coverer, so I went with the same fabric as the dress, a plain black cotton (I got a 25 yard bolt of this and must have used around 15 on this dress between all the parts and all the pleated trim).

I did not make it all in a historical way; inner seams are almost all overlocked (I zigzagged around the edges of the bodice fabric and interlining rather than basting them together so that I didn’t have to finish those seams inside of the bodice) . After all, it’s historical costuming, not recreation. I’m not trying to be 100% accurate, I’m trying to make a cute dress.

I also made a chemisette and cuffs to fill in the neckline and to add some visual depth to an otherwise all black dress (I’m planning to make all my historical clothes at least close to my normal clothing style, so that I feel more comfortable in them). The collar ended up a bit bigger than I would have liked, and I think it looks a little puritanical, but oh well. It is what it is. I can always make a new one in the future if it’s still bothering me.

I made this dress to be 1873, right in the middle of the first bustle era (my favorite era of Victorian womenswear).

The hat was an endeavor. I think I cut the pattern wrong, so it ended up way too tall, so I just kind of folded the sides under and now it’s fine. I’m kind of regretting adding the flowers, but they’re hot glued in (the one time I used hot glue on this hat rather than sewing. Of course.) and I don’t really care enough to fuss around with trying to get them off. I guess I can also always wear it without a hat if it keeps bugging me. At least my hair turned out cute!

All in all, I love this costume. It’s cute, I think it’s flattering, it’s fairly comfy (and shockingly easy to move in; the skirts are a bit heavy, but not too much, the corset and boning don’t actually stop my from bending over if I have to, and the bustle folds up quite easily when I need to sit down). I think I could easily see myself wearing this for hours at an event. It’s a smidge long, but that’s not too much of a problem, and the petticoat pokes out a thing bit at the bottom, but that only serves to keep the skirt hem cleaner. The only real issue I came across with this was stairs, but even then, is was mostly only after I had taken off my shoes and the hem was a few inches too long.

I guess this dress is properly victorian goth, rather than just Victorian-inspired like most of my clothes

[moongothic]

One Piece anime remake... From Netflix...

I'm shockingly optimistic about this, actually

Like. I love the OG series to death, it means so incredibly much to me in ways I could not put into words. But good god, as more time passes the harder it becomes for me to actually be able to reccomend the OG series to people. Like we all know the pacing is absolute shit and that alone is a dealbreaker for a lot people (hell, it's literally why I stopped watching the series myself), so right now... Netflix has the best possible opportunity to actual FIX that issue

Like Toei's done plenty of their animated specials and movies that have been remakes of certain story arcs, but because those remakes have been few and far between you wouldn't be able to actually experience One Piece exclusively through them (not to mention some of them are just frankly bad adaptations (I'm looking at you, Alabasta Movie)). But Netflix is seemingly planning to do the whole series, from the begining? Yeah, they have the perfect opportunity to do the best possible adaptation

And not just in the sense that they can pace the story properly because they don't HAVE to drag things out the same way Toei has to right now. But also because Netflix has FORESIGHT for what's to come, meaning they can make a more consistent adaptation. (Of course, to be fair, Toei wouldn't have been able to predict what Oda was planning, so they had no idea whether or not some of their creative decisions would come back to bite them in the ass)

Like they can do bigger things like foreshadow shit like Haki with more accuracy, have more consistent character designs (both keeping skintones/hair colors more accurate but also keep them up-to-date, due to Oda's artstyle evolving over time), represent abilities etc consistently etc. But also do minor shit like, IDK, when we see the OG Shichibukai Silhouettes in East Blue, we could be shown ACCURATE silhouettes for the characters etc

IDK it's just really exciting to me, they have so much potential to make a really fucking good adaptation here. I really hope Netflix doesn't fuck it up

Honestly the most painful part is that we're going back to East Fucking Blue again for the billionth time. Which is fine and all, but really. I just. I would like to see My Husband. And we're gonna have to wait to the end of the second saga to see him. I'm in pain

[stevensaus]

When The Protest Sign Reveals A Lot More Than Intended

The news coverage of the protests outside a local (to me) YMCA yesterday missed the most important sign the TERFs (trans-exclusive radical feminists) were holding. The one that really revealed how they felt.Quick side note: While I am aware that "TERF" might not be the most accurate term -- I really doubt most of those folks were feminists in any meaningful way -- they were attempting to employ feminist language, so I'm going to run with that label for the moment.The background: The City of Xenia -- not the YMCA, to be clear -- decided to prosecute a transgender woman for utilizing the female changing room. To recap the Dayton Daily News coverage, a Fairborn, Ohio woman "was charged in Xenia Municipal Court with three counts of public indecency, for incidents in September, November, and a third incident between November 2021 and 2022." Xenia council president Will Urschel, in a video posted to YouTube in January 2023, "told a meeting of the Greene County Tea Party that if the city is able to successfully prosecute the person involved, they may bring legal action against the YMCA for aiding and abetting the alleged crime." The YMCA, in response, "has said that state non-discrimination laws require it to allow transgender individuals to use locker rooms, changing rooms and bathrooms that align with their gender identity." The organization also says "posted locker room guidelines ask patrons to 'remain properly covered while in public areas of the locker room.'" The court date has been pushed back due to publicity.Yesterday, 25 Feb 2023, three to five times as many pro-trans protesters showed up to show support for human rights (across the street in this photo), while a dozen or so TERFs protested against the policy, something you can pretty clearly see in some of the video from the news coverage. For quite some time, there were only four folks protesting against the YMCA - the guy with his cross-on-wheels, one man who kept letting the American flag he was holding hit the ground, one guy who seemed to think he was "owning" people by taking their pictures, and a single woman holding their anti-trans signs. That 3:1 ratio seemed to hold true for the anti-trans protesters, while it was easily the reverse for those protesting for human rights. There's a lot I could talk about and unpack there, but specifically, I want to focus on one sign that the anti-trans woman held. The read, "The YMCA cannot give consent for all women." (The sign is just barely visible below the flag in the photo linked here.)The assumptions embedded in that one sentence really reveal a lot. - Using "consent" here inherently brings in an implication of prurient (or sexual) interest to a non-sexual action. This was reinforced by the "keep our women safe" sign another TERF was holding. - It absolutely ignores the actual data about who commits sexual assault. - It ignores the YMCA's own policy of being "properly covered while in public areas of the locker room." - It ignores that gender expression is not -- and does not necessarily correlate to -- sexual orientation. The folks I know were all confused by the sign. Because to us, changing in the locker room or using the restroom is an individual act. The idea of "consent" is utterly misused here, and makes no sense whatsoever. I have never asked "consent" before going in the public restroom at, say, a truck stop, and I've never seen or heard of someone doing so. Even if you were thinking about knocking on the door before using an individual restroom or stall... well, your gender doesn't matter, you don't use the same stall (or individual restroom, or individual changing room) as someone else when they're using it. Problem solved.The anti-trans panic does not actually keep anyone safer. If anything, it distracts us from the actual perpetrators of sexual assault. Transgender people are overwhelmingly survivors of sexual assault. On the other hand, it is shockingly easy to find recent cases involving a church leader in Florida, a youth pastor in Mississippi, a youth pastor in Massachusetts, a pastor in North Carolina, a youth pastor in Arkansas, and a youth pastor in Virginia, and, of course, the Southern Baptist Convention's own released list of "about 380 Southern Baptist church leaders and volunteers have faced credible accusations of sexual misconduct. Of those, roughly 220 were convicted of sex crimes or received plea deals."If actual "indecent exposure" happens, then it is actually a violation of the YMCA's rules already, and has nothing to do with a person's gender expression. Problem solved.The last point is the most telling to me, though... because these TERFs have already signaled that this is just part of their campaign against LGBTQIA+ people as a whole. The concept of people whose sexual orientation -- including asexuality! -- is not the same as their own simply did not occur to them. They were utterly unable to think beyond their own motivations and experiences.And if you put all that together, that brings us back to something I said at the beginning of the month. Their actions, their signs, make no sense when measured against observable data. At first glance, it seems nonsensical, even hypocritical.Then you look at who is assaulting women, is stripping away rights, is denying the existence of others for their identities.And then you realize.It is not hypocrisy.It is projection. Featured Photo by Lena Balk on Unsplash Read the full article

[thesleepiestselkie]

I'm kicking myself for changing majors in college. I dropped what I knew I was good at and enjoyed (communications) for a passion project I couldn't follow through with (a bookstore?? en esta economía?? bruh).

I don't do shit with my ancient Greek, even though I have a book of poetry waiting for me to translate it sitting on my shelf right next to the Middle Liddell. Maybe I should do it just to upkeep the skill, but I'm not actually sure if it'd be fulfilling to do in any way at this point.

I feel like i could be a good writer, but when I had a chance to actually learn the skills, I put in the absolute minimum effort it took to maintain the pretense that I was a good student. This unfortunately is a skill I had already refined immediately following freshman year of high school.

My homeschooled 14-year-old ass decided to just not do any of my required schoolwork for a year. When anyone asked I either lied or found a way to pull off something showy at the last second to make it seem like I was actually paying attention. Then at the end of the year, my mom (shockingly, somehow) asked me for all of my work to review and grade.

Sometimes when you're homeschooled and your mom's a tradwife, your dad's a Navy chaplain, and you spend a solid half of your waking hours in church for a religion that actively wishes you harm, you develop some... bad coping mechanisms. It truly did not help that I learned when I was maybe six or so that "being independent" meant that nobody was looking at me, so the more independence I could convince my parents to give me, the less I would fear retribution for existing.

I'm like half-diagnosed ADHD (my psych agrees and is helping me use off-label meds to try to treat some of it, but I can't afford an actual diagnosis) and self-diagnosed autistic, and I feel a hell of a fucking lot safer when I feel like nobody's watching me and potentially either watching me for Mannerisms or judging me for how bad I am at skills everyone's supposed to have learned somehow .(Maybe they teach them in school but I wouldn't fucking know! LOL!) This sucks in and of itself because I'm very drawn to hobbies like YouTube and Twitch but those inherently involve Being Perceived.

I just get so.... Chidi Anagonye about everything. I have to say the most accurate and simultaneously the most empathetic version of what I mean every time (hi, abandoned communications degree). It absolutely keeps me from pursuing both my hobbies and my actual skills that I want to be working with, and I have no idea how to power through it. It feels like an impassable wall sometimes that stops me from connecting with people or getting a job that would be actually fulfilling instead of just occasionally satisfying.

Gah. Like. Fuck. Clearly it's a disability, but I'm already on anxiety meds, and in general I'm not working myself into a tizzy nearly as often as I used to, but I'm just at a dead stop with no momentum creatively because I need feedback to get better, but if anyone ever notices that I'm bad at anything I want to be swallowed by the earth instantly. So I don't know what the fuck my deal is but I would really like it to sort itself out. I know I'm like a ball of trauma or whatever but it should not be so hard to get the fuck over myself and make something.

[lovestuckyhatemarvel]

Let's Talk About Inflation (the unsexy kind)

Okay so, before I go into this, I wanna first preface this by saying that no one is under any obligation to listen to me or implement a single goddamn thing I say here. If you don't like what I'm saying, you're not required to do any of this. I'm not your editor. I'm just some weirdo on tumblr who thinks too hard about a show that is arguably super badly written and pays no mind to any sort of logic. It barely keeps a coherent timeline. This is just one of my pet peeves.

And that pet peeve is I think people should stop putting actual dollar amounts in their Stranger Things fanfiction because so many people just put wildly high numbers for things and it just immediately is jarring to me. And below the read more, I'll explain why in way too many words and way too much detail.

So the bulk of the canon of Stranger Things takes place between 1983-1986 currently. There are earlier dates in books and plays, and there are also flashbacks in the show, but the bulk takes place in the 1980s because the Duffer brothers can't jerk off to completion unless they're thinking about the 80s and explosions.

And of course because the show is so badly written that you can drive a tank through the plot holes, it attracted fanfic writers. Including me. And so you get people writing about these characters going about their lives, except then they say shit like a character spends 50 dollars at a convenience store, and I'm left going, "No, he fucking didn't."

Because the thing is that economics are extremely complicated and there is a difference between inflation and relative buying power. So you can't actually take the price of a thing today and then plug it into an inflation calculator and then go 'tada, here's the price for 1986'. There are items that have, in fact, in terms of pricing, progressed below the inflation rate, and then others that went way way way above the inflation rate.

And that's also not taking into account the ever shifting prices of things depending on time you're buying it and also location you're buying it. Also the store matters. For example, a gallon of milk from walmart is more expensive than getting a gallon of milk from my local chain. Shockingly, buying from Aldi in my area is the most expensive for buying a gallon of milk. But also walmart in a completely different state has milk for cheaper than the walmart in my area.

So already for the same item on the same date in 4 different stores, I've got 4 different prices. And the price would still be different if I compared it to how it was 6 months ago. And go back further and that's even more true. Especially with Aldi since Aldi used to be the affordable store to go to. And now it's absolutely not. So you can see how trying to figure out the relative buying power of a small fictional town in Indiana in 1986 could be extremely complicated.

One of the reasons beyond just relative buying power being complicated is that Ronald Reagan fucked the economy so hard it literally never recovered. And during Stranger Things, they aren't yet feeling that. The economy actually won't fully show signs of this kind of fuckery for another decade. And then 9/11 made things even worse. That's not to say that no one writing fanfiction of Stranger Things was alive pre-9/11, but most of us weren't keeping track of prices of things outside of like, gum and candy. Or at least I wasn't. RIP to cheap Baby Bottle Pops. You are missed.

But that's just words and opinion, right? So where's my fucking proof?

What up, it's moneynotmoney.com and specifically their extremely detailed analysis on how the price of coca-cola has evolved over the years. And I'm really excited that it's coca-cola because the show loves to jerk that beverage off.

Here's their graph for the absolute price of coca-cola per year going from 1970 to 2022.

And here's their graph for the prices of coca-cola for those same years adjusted for inflation.

So can you accurately put a dollar amount on things for a fic set in the 80s? Sure. Is it easy? Absolutely not. Do I recommend it? No. And I'm gonna be real with y'all, this isn't to call out any individual person, and I'm not blaming anyone for doing this, but literally every single time I've seen someone list a dollar amount for something in your steddie fic, y'all do come across as:

Like even the show avoided putting actual prices on things for most of their run. The only times I remember actual prices being listed being in season 1 when Joyce is buying all the string lights in town multiple times. And a new phone. Like this is a thing I've put way too much thought and research into and I just straight up do not put prices in my story because it's not necessary and also it's way too complicated for my taste. No one's ever asked me to put a number on what 'barely scraping by' means, nor have they asked what having 'enough money to comfortably live the rest of his life without working' means. Even though those are two things that are never stagnant. That's not to say you have to go my route. Once again, I'm not your teacher and I'm not your editor. I'm not your fucking keeper. Do what you want.

[insult-2-injury]

Take a Seat-  Chapter 1

After a skirmish up top, your failing shop falls under the watchful gaze of the Eye of Zaun. And his blue-haired gremlin daughter.

Silco x Fem!Reader | Total WC: 34k | Eventual Smut | Slow Burn | Romance | Angst |

AO3 Link

Next chap

"The past is never where you think you left it" -Katherine Anne Porter

The first step into Piltover was always a tad violent on the senses. The sun felt particularly offensive today, its rays clashing furiously with the Undercity smog that battled its way upward, thinning alongside you as the elevator made its ascent, hidden mechanics whirring as you came to a shuddering stop.

You raised your palm to preemptively block out the full brunt of the light as the latticework doors hissed open, proudly revealing the golden child of the two conjoined cities, disgustingly picturesque.

A familiar sense of world weariness nestled into the slopes of your shoulders as you stepped out, squinting toward the towering spires of the new hex gates. You felt out of place here, like a fish out of water. Or, more accurately, a fish who had sprouted two human legs and sauntered its way up and out of the swamp.

You pressed the thin fabric of your scarf to your face as you walked, ghostlike, across the bridge, inhaling a few deep breaths to acclimatize to the change. Even the air here was richer than you.

Loathe to admit, you’d actually taken time on your outfit today, throwing on your favorite dress, a green, watermelon striped piece. You'd even thrown the mirror finger guns before you'd left your place.

But of course, the moment you set foot on the outskirts of the bustling city, you understood why your attempt at fashionable disguise was unfruitful. Because topsiders knew the highly specific likes of their own people, and they could catch onto the stench of a foreign invader in seconds flat.

They sniffed the air like prairie dogs, scattering as politely as they could manage as you strolled through the active marketplace. You couldn’t fault them at all, really- it wasn’t as if a lamb-faced Piltovan could exactly blend in downstairs.

The off-white marble fountain loomed ahead as you turned a corner, wiping the beading sweat off your brows. You were looking around for a place to sit when an orange flash of movement nearby caught your attention.

A young, scrawny boy with shockingly red hair was combing through the food stalls of the farmer’s market nearby. His eyes were glazed over with a kind of hunger that you recognized well enough, the kind that made you impatient.

You recognized him from the Lanes; him and his friends took no small joy in terrorizing the local shopkeepers with ridiculously explicit graffiti. You’d never been able to bring yourself to frown on it, as it was somewhat of a comfort discovering another well-placed, comedically spray-painted pair of boobs hidden around the Lanes. A sign that things hadn’t changed while you weren’t paying attention.

The redhead stood out like a sore thumb in Piltover’s golden-rayed streets. Passersby watched him roving about, wary, as if he was a stumbling, undomesticated dog, growling and foaming at the mouth.

And he did look feral, but in the way that only a fellow child of Zaun could understand.

You slid your satchel onto your hip, heading toward him. You purchased an absurdly expensive loaf of rye and a small block of cheese, having learned long ago that flashing any form of money on the streets of Piltover was one way to put suspicious onlookers at ease, as if adorning yourself in cash made you ethical, less likely to steal.

Oh, thank heavens, they thought, you had money. You weren’t one of those people.

Conversely, if you flashed your coin around the Lanes, you were almost guaranteed to be humbled in a host of different ways if you couldn’t defend yourself. You’d be down cash and your shoes, too, if they looked expensive enough.

“I can spot you a mile away with that hair,” you said, walking toward the kid. “Hope you don’t think you’re being stealthy.”

The kid recognized you, shooting you a glare as you placed the offering beside him. “Least I’m not dressed like some wannabe Piltie.”

You pursed your lips and looked down at your dress. “I deserve that.” Reaching into your satchel that was about a thread away from unraveling entirely, you took out a sheathed knife and placed it into his open palm.

“For the cheese. Or whatever else you’ll use it for. Carving more tits into the walls.”

He examined it closely. “Looks sharp as fuck.”

It took the bothered gaze of multiple passersby to realize that your uncivil discourse had created a ripple of disturbance throughout the peaceful fountain area as a Piltovan child was sullied by their first F-bomb. You, a grown adult, threw another one out for good measure, if only to be on the receiving end of one more glare.

“It is sharp as fuck. What do you think I make, butter knives?”

“Would be more useful right about now.”

It was a brief comfort for both of you, you thought, to find reprieve in the churlish language that only someone from the Undercity could understand. It was the kind of harsh, disrespectful speech that probably simulated something like nails on a chalkboard to a mild-mannered Piltovan. You scanned the fountain area.

“Just wear a hat next time. Cover that hair.”

“Wear some make-up.”

You locked gazes with a familiar face across the way. A warm hand wrapped its fingers around your heart as you abandoned the redhead mid-insult and walked toward your brother.

“Stef,” you said, keeping your voice purposefully flat.

When he spoke your name in return, an aching affection bubbled in your chest, even as you took note of how stale the word sounded falling from his lips. He placed an awkward palm on your shoulder and squeezed, but said nothing else, beckoning you with a tilt of his head. An ancient bitterness ignited in your belly at his lack of affection. He’d never been warm, even when you were kids. You stewed quietly as you fell in step behind him, following him toward the pretentious fountain splashing softly in the heart of the marketplace.

Stefan looked at you with his bright eyes, the same color as yours. His floppy, chestnut hair that he'd started to grow out. His dimpled chin with the scar from when the front wheel had fallen off his bike as you’d both ridden down an unpaved road. He had spared you of any injury, wrapping you in his arms to soften the blow. You blinked away a swell of sadness.

He sat down on the thick, marble lip of the fountain and you perched yourself a safe distance away, criss-crossing your legs and pretending to study your nails, as if being in the presence of your elegantly dressed, Piltovan brother didn’t unsettle you in every possible way.

When you’d been summoned to meet Stefan, you had immediately begun the mental groundwork necessary to keep your emotions subdued. The past could hold no power up top, you promised yourself. Your memories together were nothing but distant drops of water. But they weren’t. They cascaded across your mind like a river carving out a canyon.

“You making knives for kids now?”

Your head turned to where the redhead had ditched the knife in place of his own hands, tearing into the loaf of bread with a vengeance.

“Eh, what’s the worst he could do with it?”

“Plenty.”

Your eye twitched.

“Tell me about the Lanes, anything new?"

Irritation cracked through you like a whip.

“Why not take a little outing? And see it for yourself. Instead of sending some shady Piltie suit.”

You were referring to the lavishly dressed man with impeccable posture that your brother had sent to your door as a physical invitation two nights before. Talk about standing out. You’d be surprised if he hadn’t gotten his ass kicked on the way out of Zaun.

Stefan clenched his jaw and despite your vow to remain unfeeling, you found your voice softening with an old devotion.

“It’s the same, Stef, just more shimmer.”

You brought him up to date on your business, about how recent clientele had boosted your profits exponentially. How because of that you were upgrading the tiny stall you’d rented out in the Boundary Markets. You glossed a bit over just who it was you were selling to. Besides, he was smart enough to figure out that the people who were looking for the kinds of weapons you crafted were probably not looking to use them for soap carving.

Stefan, in turn, updated you. He worked in the council building and shared that they were in the works of planning a celebration for the opening of the hex gates. He hardly responded when you mentioned just how screwed up it was that instead of using a fraction of that money for Undercity reparations, from the devastation topside had wreaked years ago, they were pouring it into an event they were branding the most expensive party of the year.

All in all, it seemed his hierarchy of needs was being met, while you struggled to scrape by. Of course, you weren’t surprised by this in the least.

He sat for a long moment after he finished, clearly mulling something over before running fingers through his hair. “You know, the City of Progress is progressing.”

You arched an eyebrow at his astute observation, biting your tongue. He’d never responded well to teasing.

“And we grow stronger yet.” He saw the way your body stiffened at the word ‘We’. “The Lanes haven’t. Progressed.”

You'd only risen to the surface a handful of times to catch up with him since he'd left the Undercity, but every time you did, you lost further touch with who he was now. He spoke differently, his cadence unnatural, like a child trying to fit into a suit he hadn't quite grown into yet.

“Oh, please do continue.”

He placed his head in his hand, sighing at your barbed words.

"If things were ever to come to a head again, it could get ugly. I just want to make sure..."

"Spit it out."

You knew full well what he was trying to get at. With the rapidly growing wealth disparity, and especially with the opening of the gates, tensions had risen exponentially. And the two cities had certainly not been frictionless before. Aside from that, whatever sort of science was behind the hex gates… well, you could only assume that whatever further experimentations were going on up top came at no benefit to those below.

What he was trying to say was if the Undercity tried to rise again, it would get its shit rocked.

"I'm worried about you."

"I'm fine."

Stefan paused, weighing his next words.

“I know you well enough to know you're probably not associating with the right sorts of people.”

You hummed, unable to form words through the melancholic bitterness that had started to form a nasty, bubbling potion in your stomach, increasing slowly towards a boil.

“I'm afraid that after-" He searched for the right words. "I'm afraid that after... what happened... you’ve become disillusioned. Resentful. I just... I shouldn’t have left you down there so long.” As if you were the last spoonful burning at the bottom of his soup pot, curdling and left to wither. What on Earth did he think you did all day, sit by the door and wait for his return? You stared at him incredulously. “I just don’t want you to be in the crosshairs when we-"

You boiled over.

“I’m sorry, who’s we?”

When Stefan was younger, he’d always had a hero complex and the ego to boot- it was what had pushed away the other children at the orphanage. In a game of make-believe, he'd always had to be the savior, and since no other kids would tolerate his big-headedness, you'd always felt the sisterly obligation to play into his imagination. You'd been a great subject and he'd always stayed true, sheltering you from every storm you would walk willfully into the shadows of.

He had needed you and you had needed him.

So, shooting him off his high horse after all these years felt a little treasonous.

"How’s the council stuff going? You said you, what, water the lobby plants?”

“I’m an administrative assistant."

“That's a fancy word for secretary, Stef. You’re a secretary.” Stefan’s knuckles were white as they gripped the lip of the fountain. “You have a lower security clearance level than a janitor, so keep your mouth shut about the Undercity. At least I provide for the cause.”

You could almost see your brother's head inflating to protect his pride as he bored holes into the cobblestone at his feet. He nodded, as if something had just clicked into place.

“Guess that answers my next question. About whether or not you’ve progressed.”

"And how do you suppose I progress? I'm barely staying afloat as it is-"

"Then let me help you."

"I don't want your help."

"Why, because I'm an evil topsider now?"

"No, because I only accept help from the right sorts of people."

You were being childish, and you knew it full well, but you were burning, the gentle affection you’d felt earlier sprouting thorns that raked down your insides.

Progress. The two of you had entirely different ideas of its definition, you realized. Stefan, he hadn't just moved on, he'd crushed any semblance of his former life in the Undercity. And with that, he'd crushed any realistic idea of who you were.

And you? The past beat in you like a second heart. You cloaked yourself in it, sheltered and basked in its savagery. Looking at your brother with fresh eyes, you thought that perhaps ignorance really was bliss.

"And who's that? Whatever misfit band of criminals walks by next?"

"So, everyone in the Undercity is a criminal now? What about you, you think you're somehow excluded in this?"

"Fine then, stay in the past with your friends."

As if the fountain was suddenly a hot skillet under your touch, you leapt up, hair whipping across your face as a sudden breeze seemed to couple with your wild emotions.

The moment suspended in time, the cruelty of his words beginning to tingle across your scalp, setting in, as if someone had just cracked an egg over your head and the yolk was spilling down your temples.

“You…” Your face contorts.

To his credit, he did have the decency to look a little sorry.

“I just want to protect-"

“Few years too late,” you interrupted, “For that.” You took a step forward. “Hope you can swim.”

With one swift motion, you shoved your brother into the fountain and reveled in the way that he yelped in surprise, hands grabbed wildly at thin air before he toppled over with a satisfying splash. Loud gasps echoed around the open space as he plunged in.                                    

In your head, you’d slain a monster when all you’d realistically done was gather enough courage to push a grown man into a shallow pool. But you took the small victory and ran with it as you watched him struggle to slide his entire body in to be able to stand up.

You jeered at those rushing forward to help. What a scandal.

Your smile dropped as you saw an enforcer among them, charging toward not you, but the redhead at the food stands, who had apparently used the hell out of your small distraction. With how quickly he was foraging through different stalls, he was sure to open his pockets later to an incredibly diverse array of food groups.

“Look out!” You shouted and just like that, you entered yourself as a player in the game. A second enforcer locked eyes with you. Must have been a slow day at work. Or maybe being from the Undercity was cause enough for arrest. Didn’t matter because in a split second, you were running toward the kid, an enforcer hot on your heels.

You may as well have been waving a knife and shouting death threats, the way people dove out of your way as if their very lives were at stake.

“Fucking Run!”

The kid’s eyes were glistening with possibility as he hesitated, wanting more. Needing more. You remembered that cockiness, the way you’d felt invincible when you’d pushed the limits, just barely making it out of a scrape. But as the kid had concerned himself, in his hunger, with the proportion of bread to pocket size, he’d forgotten something crucial: the current ratio of Zaunite to Piltovan.

A bulky shopkeeper lunged and grabbed the boy by the shirt from behind, a comical number of fruits falling out of his pockets as he was yanked forward and grappled.

You growled. Shit. You weren’t about to leave the poor, idiot kid to a mob of topsiders. In the moments it took to cross the 20-foot distance, you weighed your options. Damage to property was most certainly a lesser charge than damage to person, so you targeted the legs of the table instead of the pudgy, veiny legs of the man who held the redhead by the scruff of his neck.

The wooden stilts caved in like toothpicks as you used your momentum to perform a sweeping kick that had the table careening in on itself as you flew past. You spared a glance backward, nearly letting out a whoop at the small burst of adrenaline in your chest when you saw the young boy following in your steps.

Recalling your original purpose, your head whipped over to the fountain and you stumbled slightly. Your brother had always been easy for you to read. It was a sibling thing, sure, but when you were younger, others found his mannerisms odd, cryptic. You'd always been able to navigate his sensitivities, knowing when you’d crossed the delicate line, calming him from his verbal tirades. All because you could just… read him. But in that single second of eye contact, you’d come to a sobering realization that you didn’t know this Stefan, this Piltovan flesh suit of your older brother. And that you actually had no idea where you stood.

You were utter strangers.

The two of you sprinted out of the sunny marketplace and down the stairs, narrowly avoiding attempts of capture by the two enforcers following. It was a bit shameful really, how easily you dodged their flying restraints, like it was a traveling game of Double Dutch.

You should’ve been concerning yourself with the consequences, perhaps. Admonishing the redhead boy who ran a half step behind you for never learning how to shoplift. But you were abnormally quiet. Because your brothers’ golden eyes, blank as a slate, burned behind your own.

The two of you held your gasping breaths until the elevator descended downward, as if a misplaced exhale of air would alert enforcers of your location. The skinny boy was silent, his pride wounded, having been held in the air like a squirming puppy not even five minutes ago. You said nothing, figuring the humiliation was enough.

“Thanks.”

Surprised, you looked over to where he was clearly avoiding eye contact. You muttered, “Don’t mention it.”

He nodded, the movement jostling a single, teetering apple out of his side pants pocket and resolutely, you did not laugh as he bent to pick it up. Instead, you found yourself thinking about the alliterative Piltover headlines the next day. ‘Marketplace Massacre’. Or ‘Terrorist Takeover’. And draw them in with a simple hook: “Have Poor People Gone Too Far?’

The elevator came to a shuddering stop, releasing steam as the doors opened to your city, welcoming in a stench you hadn’t known you’d missed. You inhaled deeply, as if you had been deprived of oxygen your entire time up top.

You settled your face into a steady glare, pulling your scarf tighter around your neck. As jarring as the entrance back into the green glow of the Undercity was, it was vital to not show it on your face. Opportunists stalked, you knew, in the shadows nearby, eyeing those who stepped foot in the city for any chinks in their armor.

You ignored the typical scammers as you walked, those who waited just outside the elevator, ready to sell you ‘the very newest gadgets’ from the City of Progress. It was something you really should fall for only once, and it was dumb even the first time, so the fact that they kept making coin was absolutely mind-boggling.

The redhead took off for home, you assumed, leaving a trail of literal breadcrumbs.

You walked through the heart of the city, figuring you had no reason to worry about heading home. With the harsh changes under Silco’s rule, enforcers hardly ever set foot in the Undercity, only occasionally being spotted around the Last Drop. And well, you could only assume they were pressed under the same thumb.

Besides soothing their wounded prides, Piltover wouldn’t waste resources to go after a young boy who snatched some bread and the likelihood they’d put out a search on a crazed woman who smashed some guy’s fruit stand was slim. They’d shake their fists at the city below as they always did, beefing up security around the marketplace for a short time.

Even so, you were extra aware of your surroundings as you walked back to your home on the outskirts of Zaun, keeping to the shadows.

The routine nightmares were held at bay that night, but only because in their place came the haunting words of your only brother. Curling in on yourself, you drifted into a fitful sleep.

                                  _______________________

You got to work early the following morning, despite feeling exhausted. The hours lost to your brother yesterday had been wasted time, and with your increase in clientele, you actually felt a sense of excitement that had spurred on a surge of creativity.  

You were confident that you’d managed to slide through the cracks as the next day dragged on in your lonely little riverside workshop. You were confident enough that you lost yourself in your work, no longer peering out the windows nervously for prowling enforcers. But it wasn’t an enforcer that had you nearly amputating yourself with a hacksaw as you startled. No, whoever it was quite literally caved your door in with a single knock.

You leapt up, scrambling for your dagger.

“I have a knife!” The intended threat came out more like a general statement and you would have winced if you weren’t so strung out on a sudden adrenaline.

A grunt in response.

You clutched the handle of your weapon and pointed it at the doorway. “Who are you?”

A pause. Then a gruff voice.

“Running errands.”

“For who?”

The man didn’t mince his next words at all, which in any other circumstance, you could appreciate. But at the time, you felt he could’ve done more to soften the blow.

“Silco.”

A bucket of ice water down your back would have been less shocking.

<3 <3 <3

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[blazehedgehog]

I brought this up in the comments, but I figure maybe it's worth getting out there: I've seen a lot of people express different definitions for "floaty" or "stiff" or "slippery" or what have you. Which makes some amount of sense, because you're describing a sensation that you're feeling, and everybody feels everything a little differently. So there's no standardized meaning for these terms.

To me, I think about it in terms of game development. A "stiff" game is high acceleration + high deceleration. You reach max speed quickly and stop moving quickly.

Floaty and slippery are a lot more nebulous and hard to define.

In the context of this KF Podcast, describing Jet Set Radio as feeling "floaty" is pretty accurate, I think, because the general mechanics of Jet Set Radio deliberately lower the player character's gravity once you get enough speed. You intentionally get a little bit of "float" depending on when and where you jump, which is actually required to accomplish specific tasks in the game.

And it's for that very reason that I feel like comparing Tony Hawk and JSR is a little incongruous because one is a sports game and the other is more of a platformer (but that's a different topic).

For Sonic Adventure, "floaty" can be a lot of different things. Sonic's jump in those games does tend to be a little on the lower-gravity side of things, particularly Sonic Adventure 1, where if you hold down the jump button you hang in the air for a shockingly long time. Definitely a lot longer than Mario in Super Mario 64.

But it could also refer to Sonic's on-foot acceleration, too. I've seen people use the term "floaty" and "slippery" interchangeably as a way to describe the fact that they have to fight against Sonic's natural momentum. They're pushing left, but inertia is pulling Sonic to the right, and maybe they don't understand why things aren't responding the way they expect, or the feedback is wrong, or whatever. Sonic jumps wrong.

And to be fair to those people, even I've felt that way about some Sonic games. It can generate a genuine disconnect where it feels like Sonic is being influenced arbitrarily, because you can't "feel" the weight of the thing being pushed or pulled. But from that, the general term I've started to describe that is "heavy." Low acceleration, low deceleration, like trying to steer a bowling ball.

I'd definitely believe someone would describe that as being "floaty" or "slippery." Again, especially in Sonic Adventure 1, where even now, after hundreds of hours spent in that game, it can feel like I'm not always entirely in control of Sonic.

(For comparison, I'd almost describe Sonic Adventure 2 as a little stiff, given Sonic seems hyper-sensitive to analog input.)

Sonic fans I have a question: I was listening to a podcast and both hosts agreed that Sonic Adventures controls were floaty.

I’ve never thought this in my life LMAO I always thought the #1 Sonic Adventure complaint would be the camera, and that the controls were tight.

Anyway, are they right? Does Sonic feel ‘floaty’ in Sonic Adventure/DX?

[millenialfanfictionaddiction]

Go Go Karasuno: An Old Rival (Pt 1)

THIS FIC IS 18+ 

Warnings: swearing, light teasing 

Word Counts: 7,000+

Flasback

"Keishin you asshole" you shout for the end of the court. God how you despised Ukai Keishin! The man was the bane of your existence at Karasuno High. He was always one upping you. Always one step ahead. He always got the praise while you remained in his shadow.

"Calm down Y/N! I'm just teasing you. I promise I'll be quiet during your serve this time" Keishin says as he smirks at you through the net.

"You say that every time asshole, yet we continue to have this discussion" you say with a huff.

 You are annoyed and honestly just fed with with him. You didn't even want this practice match but of course, a lot of the girls had crushes on the boys team so you felt like you had to join. Even thought you couldn't stand Keishin’s big ego clogging up your breathing room.

"Just serve Y/N. Ignore him" one of your teammates shout.

 You take a deep breath, tossing the ball up to serve.

Serving required the utmost concentration for you. You didn't know how people could effortlessly serve with background noise and people cheering. You hated that. You're teammates knew it and so did your coaches. Most of the time you didn't have to worry about noise, but when you were playing the boys team, you knew you always had to worry about something.

"Just do it already" you hear a voice shout as your hand smacks the ball in front of you causing it to barrel towards the net.

"Aye net ball" Keishin yelled from the other side of the court as he snickered at you.

"I'm seriously gonna kick your-" you start to say as your teammates gather ground to stop you from commit a felony.

"Alright that's enough" Coach yells from the sidelines "lets wrap it up."

You sigh as the boys high five each other, celebrating their victory. You line up with your team as you prepare to thank the boys team and shake hands.

You approach the net, extending your hand to Keishin while looking down.

 "Better luck next time Y/N. But hey I can see the improvement. Just try getting it over the net next time" he smiles shaking you hand as you continue to stare at the floor.

Anger. You are so mad that he beat you again.

You sulk to the sidelines as you begin to dry off with a towel and drink your water.

"Will I ever be as good as him?"

Flashback ends

8 years. 

8 whole years have passed since you last seen Keishin or any of the Karasuno Alumni. Now you find yourself standing at the gates wondering how fate brought you here.

It wasn't like your memories of High School were awful. You got good grades, played volleyball. You were even the captain of the girls team your 3rd year. For all intensive purposes, you loved High school. 

 You just hated Ukai Keishin with a passion. Sure you realized your teenage hatred of the man was petty. Of course it was. It was almost 10 years ago but yet you couldn't forget the man. There was just something that irked you to no end about him and you were glad your past 8 years had been Keishin-free.

After high school, you traveled to Toyko for school. After graduating you worked in Tokyo in a corporate office. You loved the job a lot. The city life was right up your alley. The people, the shopping, the nightlife. Everything. Not that you necessarily partook in those activities but you enjoyed the options. You had friends, your whole life was in Tokyo.

It's not like you wanted to be back in Miyagi. It wasn't by choice you were here.

 You're parents had left after you graduated high school, following you to the cities. Unfortunately, when your grandfather got sick, you were the only one who could help. 

Your parents both had prior commitments with work and you didn't have family in the area. You're job allowed you to work remotely. It was both a blessing and a curse. You were only going to be in town for a few weeks. Just to get your grandfather and grandmother settled in a senior living center. 

 Your parents had offered them to move in with them in Toyko but your grandfather would have none of it. He was as stubborn as they come. He hated the idea of "the big city". Your grandmother didn't really mind anyway but she wasn't going to leave your grandfather as long as he was living so you just gave up.

So how does that bring you back to Karasuno you ask? 

Well a few of your fellow alumni had found out you were back in town. I'm talking Takinoue Yūsuke and Shimada Makoto, both former classmates as well as former volleyball players. You knew they were friends with Keishin but you never minded them. They were always nice to you and treated you kindly. Sure they joked around with you but they never pressed you like Keishin did. So imagine your surprise when you showed up to Shimada Mart with your grandma in toe only to find Makoto stocking shelves.

To say you were shocked wouldn't be entirely accurate, I mean his name is on the store. You just figured he had moved on. When he invited you for drinks with Yusuke, you accepted. 

 Not once did the conversation turn to Keishin which you appreciated. The men knew of your rivalry well. It almost seemed like neither of you had moved on from one another.

They had talked about the boys team and how amazing they were. You still enjoyed volleyball talk and even played on a small team in Toyko on the occasional weekends. They told you about their neighborhood association and how they were playing a match with the boys of Karasuno. They mentioned needing a setter to which you immediately perked up. You didn't ask questions, not even thinking about why they needed a setter.

You figured since the conversation avoided Keishin that he was no longer in the area. You knew of his families store but also knew that he probably didn't live around here. You offered your services as a setter for a practice game. The men looked at one another, nodding in agreement. You figured what could be the harm. You got to play volleyball and kick some kids asses.

It would be a lot of fun.

Keishin finished up his shift at his family store leaving it to his mother to tend while he attended practice. He hadn't thought much high-school since he graduated honestly. He was happy in his life.

He had good friends, a solid family support system and of course, he was the head coach of the Karasuno boys volleyball team. He walked to practice as he's thoughts drifted. They often did. He'd light a cigarette, think about things and by the time he finished, he was at the gates to Karasuno. He had scheduled a practice match tonight. He knew the neighborhood association lacked members but the Karasuno boys were always willing to fill in. 

For some ungodly reason, his thoughts drifted to you. He hadn't thought about you in years.

That was a lie. A complete lie.

He actually thought about you often and how he was a complete and utter jerk in high school. He would never admit he had a crush on you back then but he did enjoy your little rivalry the two of you had. He always thought you were a great setter but he always strived to be better. It was just how he was. He knew his little crush would never amount to anything. You were way smarter and way more attractive. You had life goals and he strived to stay on the volleyball team. He hadn't dreamt of leaving Miyagi. He knew he wasn't college bound. He knew he'd always be here but you, you always dreamed of more and he admired that.

He thought you were probably some rich lady by now with a husband and a family. He laughed because he imagined your husband staying home while you worked because that's just how you were. You were strong and independent. You never settled.

Keishin entered the gym where the Karasuno boys were practicing.

"The neighborhood association will be here in 10 minutes" he yelled.

"Yes coach" the boys yelled in return as they continued to warm up for their practice game.

"Suga I'm going to need you to set for the association again tonight" he said. Sugawara Koushi nodded as he went back to warming up with the spikers. Takada Ittetsu, Karasuno’s faculty advisor and other coach, soon came bounding into the gym as he often did. He was always racing around it seemed like. 

 He had meetings, papers to grade and other things teachers worried about. Keishin laughed at how different him and Takeda were yet they made a great coaching team.

"Alright guys the show is here" a voice shouted from the doors as they were thrown open.

Keishin sighed, placing his head in his hand. 

"Takinoue you talk to much" Shimada rolled his eyes as he smacked Takinoue on the shoulder walking over to Keishin.

"I've got Suga warming up for you guys" Keishin said to Makoto.

"Ahh no need tonight man, we've got a setter" Shimada said as he rested his hand on Keishin’s shoulder.

"Huh?" Keishin questions and the doors flew open. His eyes and the eyes of the rest of the teams eyes flew to the door.

Keishin froze

"Damn I see they still haven't fixed these God forsaken doors. It's been like 10 years damn" you said as you switched from your street shoes.

Everyone was staring at you.

"Hello everyone" you smile as you wave, still not noticing the long blonde hair coach on the sidelines staring holes in your head.

The boys bowed to you as you smiled.

 You turned your body to walk to Shimada as you begin to speak "you should have told me-" you stop making direct eye contract with Keishin, your mouth dropping open.

"Keishin?" You say shockingly

"Y/N?" Keishin said equally as shocked.

"Oh whoops" Takinoue looks at you laughing awkwardly "I guess we forgot to mention the little detail that Keishin is the Karasuno teams coach ha ha"

Shimada's eyes went wide as he waited for you to speak.

"Yes you forgot to mention that LITTLE detail" you speak sharply as you whip your head to both Shimada and Takinoue.

Keishin is still frozen.

You're here? Why? How? And your setting for the Neighborhood association? Oh dear God!

"Long time no see Keishin" you speak directly as you look at him.

He thought you were beautiful then but now you looked spectacular! His brain and heart were thinking and beating at 1000 miles per hour yet no words were formed from his mouth.

Gosh this was awkward.

Shimada and Tokinoue watched in wonder.

 Everyone did.

 The Karasuno team could sense the tension between you two.

"What's with coach I've never seen him this quiet" Tanaka Ryunosuke whispers to Nishinoya Yu.

"No clue but it's making me nervous" Noya said in response.

You wanted for Keishin to speak only to be met with silence

"Well ok then" you clap your hands together "I'm here to set so let's get this show on the road."

You walk towards the practice jerseys as you slip one on. Everyone seems stunned but nobody says anything. You look back at everyone as they awkwardly go back to their tasks.

Takinoue walks up to you as you start stretching. You glare at him.

"This is all your fault" you say sharply as he puts on a practice jersey.

"Don’t expect any sets today" you growl as you walk to the sidelines talking with your new team for the evening.

The boys welcome you with open arms. Ennoshita Chikara, one of Karasuno's wing spikers greats you with a bow.

"Umm miss would you mind if we practice a few sets before the game starts?" He asks pleasantly.

"Oh please call me Y/N! And of course! I'm a new setter to you so I totally understand wanting to get comfortable" you smile as you walk towards the net.

Keishin is still staring. You're sure his eyes dried out by now from not blinking.

Ennoshita describes his ideal setup to you as you are mental notes. You remember a teammate who had a similar style so you try to adjust what you can.

 Ennoshita throws a ball to you as you set perfectly for a kill.

"Nice kill" you say with a smile. Ennoshita blushes.

"That was a great set Y/N! I don’t think I've hit a ball that confidently in a long time" he says with a smile as he rubs the back of his head.

"Well thank you but I'm a bit rusty. The ball drifted a bit too much towards the net for my liking. I'll adjust" you say with a smile as the next teammate tosses to you.

“She hasn't changed a bit” Keishin thinks to himself.

He always thought you were too hard on yourself in high school. He admired you but you were always trying to do more. He knew you didn't really like him but he didn't actually know the reason. He just thought you found him to be annoying.

Keishin snaps out of his thoughts as he blows the whistle. Everyone lines up, thanking each other for the game as they proceed to their spots.

The game goes on for a while. You see Kageyama Tobio and Hinata Shoyo’s quick and your eyes sparkle. You knew that move had to be a shocker to almost anyone playing against them. You learned to never underestimate a player. You knew the smallest players were out the most dangerous. But you had to admit that even the quickness and trust the duo displayed was phenomenal.

During a break, Kageyama asked if you'd observe his technique. You felt honored as you knew the boy was a prodigy. He was a quick thinker on the court and adapted well. You could also tell he was a lot like you were. He was hard on himself and always strived to do better. You observed the infamous "falling toss" that just stopped mid air. It was amazing to see. You'd never even dream of being able to pull something off like that.

Honestly it seemed like a “Keishin” move to you. You laughed as you thought about all the times you rolled your eyes at his ridiculous sets. He was always trying to outrun the blockers. Always trying to open the paths for his spikers.

"That tosses was phenomenal boys" you smile as you applaud their efforts. They both bow as they disperse and continue their training. 

Your eyes met Keishins again.

Honestly we're you really going to ignore him this whole time?

“It's been almost 10 years Y/N he's probably matured” you think to yourself as you gather the courage to approach the coach. Then again this was Ukai Keishin we were talking about. The asshole who constantly made it a mission to get under your nerves in high school.

When the second practice match started, you were you to serve. Keishin smiled to himself thinking about the cute look you got on your face as you prepared to serve. It made his hard warm. You didn't fail to notice his smile but you're thoughts automatically drifted back to high school. You hated that smile so much.

You prepared to serve as suddenly you heard someone clear their throat. You missed the serve completely, hitting a net ball. Keishin snickered to himself.

“Man you really hadn't changed all that much” he thought as he was thinking about how much you hated missing serves.

Your neck snaps to him as you glare "I know you did that on purpose" you spit at him.

Keishin just smiles "Y/N you really think I'm out here to mess your serves up?"

You definitely hadn't changed.

You huffed as you glared at Keishin as he smirked.

Shimada and Takinoue looked at each other. Part of them was hoping they would see you chuck a ball at Keishin while a part of them wondered how you two had managed to ignore your feelings for each other for so long.

The game ended as the boys cleaned the gym and thanked you for the game.

Keishin watched as you took off the practice jersey. Your shirt lifting, exposing your tummy bit to reveal your smooth skin. It was now or never .

"Umm hey Y/N, thanks for helping out" he says as he approaches you

You continue to wipe the sweat from your forehead as you take a drink of water. "No problem. It's a great team you have here" you say while avoiding eye contact.

Keishin wished you'd just look at him. You really didn't still hate him did you?

"Well I’m off" you say as you wave and smile to the team and the association. You quickly move to the gym doors, replacing your shoes and walking away.

"You sure blew that one" Shimada snickers behind Keishin.

"She really had no clue I was the coach?" Keishin looks at Shimada.

"Not one clue" he says in return "besides this provided so much entertainment." He throws his head back laughing as he walking towards the gym doors.

“Wyou blew this one Keishin” he thinks to himself as he sighs taking a seat in a folding chair.

He really did blow this one.

taglist: @axoxtxhxh​

[souluble]

✿ Scenarios ✿

Inumaki Toge / Nobara Kugisaki / Junpei Yoshino / Itadori Yuji

✿ Playing videogames with them

Inumaki Toge

✿ Ok he’s a canon troll and most definitely throws the first round then absolutely carries the second round to get play of the game which annoys his teammates to no end.

✿ His notficiations are overflowing with friend requests and he never declines them he just lets them pile up.

✿ Inumaki has a hacker client downloaded and when you finally found out he offered to send you the link.

✿ If his team makes him play healer the only people he’s going to heal is you and the new player who doesn’t understand the difference between left click and right click.

✿ When you play with him he likes to be on opposite teams so he can cross team, he always ends up killing you though.

✿ Leaning over Inumakis shoulder you watched as his fingers effortlessly glided across the keyboard as he commanded his teammates to rush the enemy line. He chewed on the inside of his cheek as he clicked away at his mouse before letting out a frustrated groan when his screen turned a vivid red signifying his defeat.

Maneuvering around his chair you placed yourself on his lap and pulled the keyboard closer to your reach “Can I try? It’s a shooter game right?” titling your head back you peered up at his flushed face.

Resting his chin on your head Inumaki placed his hands over yours to maneuver your fingers over the proper keys “Salmon”

With an excited glint in his eyes he watched as you jokingly made your character run into walls and shoot your teammates by mistake to agitate them.

Whenever someone would ridicule your skill in the chat Inumaki was quick to start typing up a spiteful message that would get the two of you banned from the lobby.

His account ended up getting suspended for 24 hours that afternoon but he assured you that he didn’t mind.

Nobara Kugisaki

✿ She isn’t fond of keyboards because mouse spamming makes her finger cramp up, she plays with a controller connected to her console.

✿ Do not play with her If your sensitive, she rages a lot especially when someone throws and isn’t afraid to call to them out.

✿ Definitely uses the voice chat and makes herself leader and no one really argues because her win rate is so high.

✿ If you play with her she’s going to be tailing you non-stop to make sure you don’t die and make you double kill with her to get team points.

✿ If there someone being toxic in the voice chat she’s going to be coming for their throat, make sure to back her up but don’t let her get carried away she already has two strikes on her account.

✿ Only accepts friends requests from people who are the same rank as her or a rank higher, she says the higher ranks are cocky.

✿ The sound of the controllers joystick being pushed around bounced off the walls as a string of curses left her lips “I always get the worst competitive teams”

Nobara let out a loud dramatic exhale as she swiveled around in her chair to face you with puppy eyes “play with me please!! Just one match so my ranking can go up” jutting her bottom lip out she reached out to you.

“Just one match! We have an early mission tomorrow”

“I promise just one match!! It’ll be short and then we can go shopping!”

What was originally supposed to be a quick game turned into multiple as Nobara had formed a party over the last couple of rounds “Y/N go left and flank from behind”

Following her orders you made your character crouch behind the in game objects before going for the kill. The score was tied 4 - 4 and whoever got the last point would win. Nobaras party was on a winning streak and she refused to loose even if she had already ranked up.

“Take point!! Touch point!” Nobaras yelling came to a stop as the screen went black and the words ‘defeat’ flashed across her screen, with a frustrated huff she muted her mic before heading over to you with a defeated look on her face.

“Can we at least still go shopping?”

Junpei Yoshino

✿ He’s surprisingly a really good sniper and only plays DPS, If you make him play anything else he will leave the lobby.

✿ Junpei plays on those public school servers and purposely only targets his classmates, he finds great joy in making them rage quit.

✿ He has never sent out a friend request and refuses to, you had to send him the request if you wanted to be in game friends.

✿ If someone’s targeting you he’s going to spawn camp them even if it means throwing for his team.

✿ Doesn’t use chat, he has it muted to ignore all the trash talk but if he likes his team he’ll drop a ‘GG’ in the chat after a win.

✿ Probably has a hacker client installed too, but he actually paid for it and uses it frequently, his account shockingly has never gotten banned.

✿ Junpei sat crossed legged on the floor as his fingers skimmed over the controller buttons while you sat on his neatly made bed with your controller tossed to the side. His head rested comfortably on your thighs as you brushed his bangs to the side so he could the screen.

Your character had died at the beginning of the match and Junpei was hellbent on killing the person who killed you “Upper left” you watched as he aimed the crosshair with precision before pressing the trigger on the controller.

With a gasp at the accurate headshot you clapsed your hands together “You got them Ino!” a small smile appeared on his face as he looked up at you shyly.

“It wasn’t really anything that special”

“Yes it was! You were all the way on the other side of the map and the shot still hit!”

Facing back towards the screen you watch as Junpei got play of the game once more, if it weren’t for his mute chat you could already see the complaints from the enemy team.

Titling his head back you bent over to press a kiss to Junpei’s forehead “let’s play another match?”

With red ears he looked away from you with a teasing smile “As long as you don’t die first again”

Itadori Yuji

✿ Itadori is that one person who makes small talk in the waiting lobby then asks if everyone wants to stay as a team yet leaves as soon as they start loosing.

✿ Only joins games where everyone’s in voice chat because he doesn’t like the awkward silence when no ones talking.

✿ His aim is so bad and he genuinely doesn’t know why, absolutely despises snipers especially when he doesn’t see them until after he dies.

✿ He’s so cute if he sees you online he’s going to be sending you party invites and asking you to join his games.

✿ Prefers to be on opposite teams with you so that he can kill you before anyone else does, his teamates pity you because your always dying first.

✿ You leaned back in your chair and let out a scream at the sudden death of your character “YUJI” a nervous chuckel erupted form your boyfriends throat as he rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly.

“Sorry Y/N but I just don’t want anyone else killing you”

Silence filled the room as you stared at him with a blank look on your face, whenever you play videgames with Yuji he always refuses to be on the same team as you. His reason being that he isn’t good enough at the game to protect you and if your on opposite teams he’s able to kill you first so one else can.

“You actually DONT have to kill me everytime!”

“But then someone else will kill you!” rushing up from his seat Itadori threw himself at you as he burried his head into your stomach and wrapped his arms around your waist.

You didn’t have the heart to tell him that playing with him was not a fun experience when he was always so excited to see your gamer tag pop up on his screen.

Glancing towards his screen you watched as his character got taken out “fine fine let’s play another game, I’ll just avoid you this round”

Shaking his head in a ‘no’ manner Itadori let out a loud whine at your statement “No Y/N! You’ll die if you run away from me”

“I’m going to die either way!”

[heaven-in-a-wild-flower]

Crows Headcanon: In Lockdown

Read this and more Crows headcanons on ao3 using this link

Chapter 1 (the chapters aren't related and do not continue the story, each can be read separately)

Kaz

Kaz yearns to vanquish the last of his enemies, to admire the bright red of their blood. He feels an ache in him that can only be sated by the sight of beautiful stolen kruge. He fantasises of the glorious feeling of having bested another. He shivers with desire when he thinks of all the fear he could be eliciting in people.

In other words, he's bored. What is a crime lord to do if no crimes can be done? (There is the option of ignoring lockdown and venturing out, but he's not stupid enough to risk getting a virus). He wakes up each morning and trudges to the rooftop because he wants to get some fresh air and some quiet (not because that seems to be Inej's favourite spot). He stays there for an hour or so, memorising various details of the city below (not Inej's smile. She loves sunsets and smiles softly at them). He's always incredibly calm after this exercise. It must be because of all the fresh air.

Then he has to go down and deal with the rest of his Crows, some of whom cannot stop talking at him (Jesper, of course). They all eat breakfast together at the table and chatter all through it. He misses being able to scare people away with just a glance and regale them with their secrets, just to watch them quake. The Crows giggle, how dare they, when he tries it on them. They aren't scared of him anymore and he hates it (loves it).

He then locks himself in his room and spends many hours plotting all the schemes he'll enact after the lockdown is lifted. Oh, the people of Ketterdam won't know what hit them. Someone keeps knocking and leaving food outside so eats that for lunch. He hasn't yet figured out who it might be. They're always gone no matter how fast he goes for the door. But no matter, he'll figure it out, he is Kaz Brekker after all, secrets bow to him.

In the evening they all sit down for a round of cards (sometimes even he falls prey to Jesper's charm). Kaz simultaneously trains them.

"What's the easiest way to temporarily blind someone?" he asks (This is more for personal entertainment than true training because he loves to rile Matthias up).

"Dirt in their face?" Inej asks.

"Bright light to the eye?" Jesper says.

"Tighten a blood vessel?" Nina suggests.

"Spit in their eyes?" Wylan adds. (Kaz will never say it, but he is so proud)

"You're all horrible," Matthias responds predictably, yet everyone hears him mutter, "Smoke bomb is best."

He goes to bed somewhat relaxed, an effect of not having to worry about being attacked in your sleep (or robbed, for that matter).

He'll never admit it to anyone, not even if you threaten to rob all his kruge but, maybe this lockdown situation with all his Crows is tolerable.

Inej

Inej misses the freedom. The freedom of being able to climb and slide and jump her way through any part of the city. Being trapped inside due to the lockdown causes a bit of anxiety in her. It does help to at least be able to see the entire city spread out before her like her very own feast and so she'll spend most of her morning on the roof, bottling up the feeling to last her through the day. She loves the sunset, but every time Kaz joins her at the roof, sneaking what he thinks are subtle glances at her, she can't stop smiling (a small gentle smile, but a smile nonetheless).

In the afternoon she, Nina and Jesper will try to cook. She laughs the most with them, her stomach aching in the best way afterwards. She loves them and endures their high energy goofy selves with equal parts fondness and amusement. The food isn't always the best, but the company is so good that she forgets the taste of it (most of the time, sometimes she has to yell at Jesper not to keep burning the food just to finish a good joke).

In the evenings, she'll sometimes practice some of her acrobatics wherever she can. She secretly gets thrilled by slightly scaring Jesper whenever he walks into a room and suddenly finds her dangling from somewhere. Sometimes when she feels anxious and desperately needs to be calmed, she'll ask Wylan to play his flute and fall asleep curled up wherever she is (Jesper loves taking pictures of her asleep in weird places and Kaz makes sure she always has a blanket on her but only when no one is looking).

Some nights she'll make some of her comfort food and Kaz will lean against the counter, claiming that he's helping (his presence helps her, always, even though he does not do any of the cooking). His absolute silence calms her, it feels both comforting and understanding and she loves the weight of his gaze on her, anchoring her. And every time she asks him to hand her something, their fingers brush and warmth bursts through her body. She loves these quiet nights they have, the way they are both magnetic to the other. She'll smile at him and he'll freeze and he'll move a bit closer to her and she'll tingle with awareness.

Jesper

Jesper, as we know, is a raging extrovert. He’s almost dying staying inside all day. He wakes up in the morning and gets dragged back in by Wylan who won't let him leave before he gives him a good cuddle in the morning. He indulges him, of course. He loves it. He didn't know that being wanted, being loved could feel like this. When he's eventually awake, he'll go chat up Matthias who also gets up pretty early to do his workout (although chat at is more accurate, considering that Matthias barely responds). He has taken to calling Matthias 'Matty' and Matthias loathes it (which means that Jesper does it all the time, of course).

Later, after Nina, Jesper and Inej manage to make lunch, he takes some up to Kaz. He leaves it outside his room and once he's in another room, he pushes any small metal object towards the door to make the knocks (because what use is it being Grisha if you don't use it for friendly pranks?). He hangs out with Nina in the afternoons sometimes and they discuss their favourite shows and characters. Those two will go on for hours without realising it and sometimes they won't even realise that they're being very loud (because that's what passionate fangirling/fanboying is like). As the fashion icons of the group, they also often do online shopping together. Sometimes he'll go from room to room (excluding Kaz's, not because it's locked but because it's, well, Kaz's) talking to everyone and trying to join whatever they're doing and he'll end up annoying everyone in one fell swoop, earning many comments along the lines of, "Wylan, what do you see in him?" Wylan would stroke his chin in thought and respond, "Hmm, you know what, now that you bring it up..." After this, Jesper will attack him with kisses all over his face and giggling, Wylan will forget whatever he was about to say.

Evenings are his favourite though, card time! The Crows refuse to bet kruge because they don't want to fuel his gambling addiction so they'll bet on random things. Losing one of the bets, Jesper had to take shots of Tabasco sauce alternating with shots of milk while singing Hot N Cold by Katy Perry (this was a Wylan dare, he is terrifyingly good at setting dares). The best one was when Kaz lost and had to dance to Watch Me (Whip/Nae Nae) by Silentó while following the exact dance steps (this was a Nina dare. She was laughing so hard tears were rolling down her cheeks. Jesper tried to record it, but Kaz knocked the phone out of his hands using his cane.)

In the nights, Jesper watches Wylan write some of his own songs (a hobby he has picked up recently). He simply can't look away, Wylan's face scrunched up in concentration is too captivating.

"Stop staring," Wylan will complain sometimes, blushing and blushing, "I can't focus!"

Jesper will brush his hand through his curls, kiss his head and respond, "I can't help it, maybe I just like your stupid face."

"I'll dare you to do something truly horrifying tomorrow," Wylan threatens with the sweetest smile on his face and Jesper immediately backs off. He loves this side of Wylan, the side only the Crows get to see. The side who isn't quiet and innocent, who isn't afraid to speak his mind, to assert his place. He gives him one long kiss on the lips, leaving both of them just a little bit dazed and goes to sleep. He falls asleep immediately, all his energy drained and the pillow smelling wonderfully like Wylan.

Wylan

Wylan loves waking up with his boyfriend right next to him, even if he grumbles and refuses to get off the bed as early as Jesper does. His laziness certainly pays off, he gets breakfast in bed so many times! When he does wake up, he'll be groggy for the entirety of the morning (Jesper calls him 'Zombie Boy' in the mornings and if he were more awake, Wylan would probably object to this, but since he isn't, he just grumbles and focuses on not falling face first into his food). He only truly wakes up at lunchtime. He loves making little desserts to surprise the Crows. All their pleased reactions make him blush and grin at once.

He sometimes pulls Jesper onto the couch with him to watch a movie (because he loves spending time with him, not because the rest of the Crows have been begging him to distract Jesper, okay, maybe both are true). Shockingly, Jesper does not like action movies, Wylan found this out the hard way when he put on an action movie the first time and Jesper fell asleep not even halfway through it. Jesper actually likes... romcoms. Wylan loves how Jesper cries and laughs simultaneously, clutching Wylan's shirt and burying his face in it during the sad parts and jerking back up to laugh at the jokes or repeat the dialogues with the characters. Wylan loves being needed like this. He never knew he'd enjoy giving comfort as much as he loves receiving it.

Sometimes it scares him how much he loves the Crows. He hasn't ever known family that didn't hurt him, that liked him as is, no modifications needed. To help deal with this deluge of feelings without getting overwhelmed, he writes music. He pours all of his feelings into his flute and when they come out of it, they are sweet and painful, loud and whispery, sharp and smooth. He doesn't think all the Crows understand this but, it is enough to see a passing smile when they hear it and it is enough for him to get those feelings out there. And the peace he gives Inej when she falls asleep to his music makes him think she understands (she does).

He enjoys torturing the others during card time in the evenings (he absolutely preens when he sees Kaz's approving nod). He'll never tell anyone, but he finds some of his most outrageous dares on Reddit (Kaz knows this, and is even prouder of him at the deception).

He also sometimes lets Nina style his hair. She enjoys it and he does too. He loves the feeling of her hands moving gently through his curls. Closing his eyes, he allows himself to imagine that it's his mother. If he shudders or lets loose a few tears, he pretends it was the cold or the pain from having his hair tugged at. Nina lets him pretend, she understands wanting maternal affection, she's an orphan herself. She thinks having it and then having it taken away due to situations like these is harder than never having had it at all.

He goes to sleep slowly, curling up like a cat and watching Jesper's face in the restfulness of sleep. Oh, how lucky he is.

Nina

Nina has mixed feelings about the lockdown because she's an ambivert. She misses meeting people, but is also really happy and comfortable just staying in and hanging out with the other Crows.

She wakes up in the morning, not too early and not too late, but obviously later than Matthias because who even wakes up that early? Anyway, she stretches and lounges in bed for a while, enjoying the warmth. When she wakes up, Matthias is usually about to go for a shower (so he's sweaty, very very sweaty). He tries to hug her, but she dodges. "No, no! Take a shower first!" He grins and grabs her again (Is this really what all his Fierdan training is meant for? He thinks so, yes). Even though she doesn't quite enjoy the feeling of sweat-slicked arms around her, she loves this side of Matthias. This playful, childish side that only she gets to see. Every time it pops up, she feels proud, honoured even that he trusts her enough to be himself with her. It makes her heart warm.

After all the breakfast shenanigans, she goes into a room and picks up her knitting supplies. She's picked up this hobby in the lockdown to kill time, but now she's actually quite enjoying it. She makes socks and scarfs and sweaters and beanies, all with bright colours and cosily mismatched. She then gifts it to the others. She knows that they don't like it and that is why she pretends that they are genuine gifts. They wear it and she loves how they look it in. It makes her crack up so many times (she also loves them for it).

Wylan lands up with a pink and yellow coloured beanie that is about two times too big for his head. It keeps falling into his eyes and making him look like a little poisonous mushroom. Jesper gets a giant rainbow scarf that he loves. He wears it all the time and makes sure to hit as many people with the ends of it as he rewraps it around his neck over and over again. Inej gets a bright blue sweater with green and orange polka dots that she drowns in. Nina knows that Inej likes the way it covers her hands and keeps them warm. Kaz gets purple and black striped socks that he claims he never wears, yet she sometimes sees them in the wash. Matthias is so aggressively supportive of her that he wears all her creations at once, a beanie, a sweater, two scarves and a pair of socks. He's like a human furnace and she loves to cuddle him in them (she also suspects that he loves this too and this is the real reason he does it, but she, of course, doesn't mind).

She loves using her dares in the evening to embarrass Kaz because that is her true purpose in life, she is simply superb at it. And the glares she gets in return fuel her very soul (and if it makes Inej smile, then that's just an extra benefit).

She sometimes has girl-time with Inej, where they paint each other's nails and talk about Kaz or sometimes they talk about nothing at all. They play music and simply enjoy each other's company.

She and Matthias go to bed cuddling, his warmth wrapped all around her, or her warmth enveloping him. She didn't know a pair of arms could feel this wonderful, but she knows that it wouldn't work with just any pair of arms. Only his, always his.

Matthias

Matthias enjoys the lockdown time. He likes all the extra time, which he fills up with all sorts of activities he's always wanted to try. He also feels anxious if he's being unproductive so it's a win-win. He wakes up early. The waking up part is easier than leaving the circle of Nina's arms, but he manages somehow. He works out, ignoring Jesper and that accursed name (Matty).

Later, he moves on to his current hobby, woodworking. He's working on an extra cupboard so that Nina has space for all her clothes (she keeps buying more because she's bored and online shopping kills time, but Matthias blames it entirely on Jesper). Everybody is a bit jealous of how productive he is during the lockdown, but they also love it because of the gifts they get from it.

Matthias made Kaz a new cane with more modifications and a better grip and took Nina's help to make sure that it matched his "aesthetic" (he's still a bit unsure what that means, but by the way Kaz's eyes widened, he knows Kaz liked it, so that's enough for him). He made Inej some new scabbards and the way she held his gaze and thanked him for it sincerely touched him (this is why Inej gets the most gifts, comparable only to how many Nina gets). Wylan got a dartboard with Jan Van Eck's face on it that he loves (It was supposed to be a bit of a joke gift, but Wylan is now a master of darts and enjoys it quite a bit, so there's that). Jesper got a holster that Nina insisted on bedazzling and when they gave it to him, his whole body stilled and tears filled his eyes. He leapt at them which Matthias nearly took for an attack before he hugged them (Matthias still thinks of this as a different type of attack, but he supposes that it is tolerable) (Jesper now tries to hug him all the time).

The part he enjoys most is relaxing with Nina. When they're cuddling he feels the warmth seep through his skin all the way to his heart. When he asked Nina if she was doing something to his heart with her Heartrender powers, she laughed and laughed and laughed. That made his heart thud louder and louder, making him believe that she really was doing something to it. All the cuddling reminds him of the first time they did it, huddling together in Fierda to conserve warmth. He doesn't know how it happened, but somehow he has her now and it is everything.

(Comment what you think about this, it would mean the world to me! <3)

Next chapter

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