#mwrites

[dreamboyslut]

daydreaming about sharing a dorm room with a jock who would rather die than being seen in public with me but when he comes back one night, drunk and bothered after a night out, he falls down onto my bed and kiss and lick and suck hickeys on my neck, acting all needy when I wake up and ask him what the fuck he's doing, and I can't resist him when I feel him hard against my ass and he's taking his clothes off and my boxers disappears too, now his dick is sliding between my thighs and i feel wet and slippery and it slips in me, my cunt feels tight, and I'm so warm and pliant and he's whispering in my ear how good it feels to be inside me, gentle and hard at the same time with the way he holds me tight against him while his dick is pounding me, it doesn't take long before he freezes, he's so deep inside, and he comes with a grunt... he's still draped around me when I feel his body relax and he falls asleep

#the next day he can't look me in the eye #and im just waiting for the next party #mlm nsft #queer nsft #trans nsft #ftm bottom #trans bottom #ftm nsft #nsft concept #mwrites

[hash-driveway]

The Hurt/Comfort Alphabet (Julian x Reader edition)

prompt created by: @thathcwriter

this ended up being a bit more esoteric than the prompt may have intended. these are so fun!

A: Alleviate - How do they go about relieving persistent physical pain?

Julian would offer you a massage if you were feeling sore, since he'd usually notice your demeanor changing when you're in pain. If you suffer from chronic pain, he'd do his best to make sure you were comfortable when he could. He'd roll you joints and smoke with you.

However, if he is the one in pain, the situation is different. He tries his best to be the strong, silent type, but his guard comes down with you. He'd try to ignore it at first, but eventually you'd ask him if he needed to be taken care of, and he'd crack. While he would be hesitant to admit it, he loves it when you take care of him.

B: Bedridden - How do they behave when they’re sick?

Julian tries to push through sickness as much as he can, which ends in him feeling worse and needing to take it easy for a few days. He doesn't mind though, since the two of you can hunker down and watch movies on the couch whenever you please.

C: Cling - Whose physical touch is considered most welcome in their minds when they are in need? Is there a specific type of touch they respond well to?

When he's stressed, a comforting rub on his back from you is all that he needs. When Julian is upset, anxious, or triggered, your warm embrace calms him down. He has abandonment issues because of his father, so he definitely needs your reassurance when he's feeling bad. He'll wrap his big arms around you and squeeze, like he can't get you close enough.

D: Deathbed - How would they react if they realized they may not recover from their injuries?

He's been shot more than he cares for, but there has only been a few times where his injuries were extreme. When it dawned on him that he might be really fucked up from the wound, he panicked. This couldn't be happening, not now, not before he retired and started a family with you. Not before he gave you the life you deserved.

E: Emergency - What is their gut reaction when someone they care about is hurt?

Rage. He'll see red if you're ever hurt by someone, and do anything it takes to protect you. Then, guilt. There must have been something that he could have done to keep this from happening.

F: Fight - Are there circumstances under which they would not accept treatment or care? If so, what are they?

If he spirals into his guilt, it can be hard for him to accept affection or reassurance. This is tricky because he could end up snapping at you. Miscommunication often leads to arguments, but they usually end up being resolved with the two of you promising to be better.

G: Ghosts - How has their past shaped the kind of comfort they respond to best?

Julian's love language is Words of Affirmation, because they are what he never got from his father. He responds best to you reassuring him when he is feeling stressed. He highly values communication.

H: Home - What things (objects, sensations or people) remind them they’re safe after a scary situation?

If he doesn't have either you or a rum and coke in his hand, he could go crazy.

I: Isolation - How do they soothe themselves when no one is around to soothe them?

He needs time alone. The chaos and noise of the trailer park gets to him sometimes, so he'll find an excuse to retreat to his trailer and try to calm himself down.

J: Joy - When was the first time they were truly happy after going through something terrible?

Julian met you after a rough patch of failed schemes and mounting legal trouble, which stressed him to no end. Meeting you on that day was so unexpected, yet so perfect, that he found himself forgetting all of his troubles after seeing you for the first time.

K: Kindness - Do they believe they deserve the comfort they receive? Why or why not?

Not usually. It takes a while for him to get used to you showing him genuine kindness.

L: Levity - What or who helps them take their mind off of the circumstances?

Julian has a self-help book for most situations. He goes to them when he feels uncertain, often looking for answers to questions that he doesn't even know how to ask. The endless digging usually ends up calming him down regardless.

M: Music - Is there a song that comforts them? Why is it comforting to them?

"Hey, ain't life wonderful?" -- I feel like this song would make him feel seen.

N: Nostalgia - What things that comforted them as a kid still work today? Does anyone know that?

It's no secret that his grandmother is who introduced him to the comforts of rum, but sometimes what he really needs is a quiet night with a blanket and a good book.

O: Overworked - Who or what tells them to stop working and take care of themselves?

You're the only person that he will actually listen to when you tell him to take a breather. Whenever anyone else tries to get him to see reason, he brushes them off, thinking that they have no idea what he can (or cannot) handle. You're different, though. He's never allowed himself to be known by anyone on the level that you do.

P: Please - Have they ever begged for someone to comfort or stay with them? What was that incident like?

Not really. He's the type of person to let someone leave if they want to, but there’s no doubt that he’ll fight for you. He'll definitely ask for comfort if he needs it, but only if he feels comfortable enough with the person to do so.

Q: Questions - Are they eager to talk about what or why they’re hurting? Why or why not?

At first, he is hesitant because he is so used to playing the role of the strong one, the protector of the park. But once he allows his walls to come down, he becomes an open book.

R: Relief - How do they react to the realization that they will soon be fully recovered?

I don't want to do this one. so i'm not going to. lol

S: Scared - What would it take for them to admit that they’re scared?

It would take a situation that could shake him to his core in order for him to admit that he's scared. Julian is tough, and can handle a lot, but there are a few things that he can break his composure. He has anxiety about money, of course. Being able to live the life that he wants, to be able to retire and live a peaceful, quiet life in Sunnyvale without having to worry about being locked up ever again. When that goal is threatened, he'll eventually admit his fear.

T: Time - How long does it take for them to feel better after an ordeal or illness? Do they tend to lie about how soon they feel better?

Julian knows how important rest is, especially if he is physically hurt. He'll do as much as he can to take the time to recover, but the needs of the people around him do tend to get in the way sometimes. In that case, he'll lie to avoid people worrying about him.

U: Ugly - What part of their recovery process are they ashamed of, if any?

When he's in pain, he can get snippy and aggravated. He also relies on drinking more than usual during these times, so that can become an issue.

V: Valiant - Has anyone told them they were brave for facing what they did? How would they react if someone did?

No. If you ever told him that, he would most likely brush it off, but it would be emotionally overwhelming for him. Nobody really shows him much appreciation.

W: Why? - How did they process what happened to them?

He journals. It’s his private haven to write down his thoughts without feeling any pressure.

X: Xenas - Do they see anyone as an inspiration in their recovery? Does their inspiration know about this?

His grandmother definitely saved him from his father's wrath. Her headstrong attitude inspires him to be who he is.

Y: Yearn - What gesture, person or thing do they desperately want, but would never actually ask for?

He really, really, really wants to get married. Have a kid or two, and just live a normal life. Be a good dad. He doesn't know how to ask for this. He doesn't think he's good enough for it.

Z: Zero - What is the best way to comfort them without touching them?

Sometimes he just needs you by his side, silently supporting him by simply being present in his life. He values consistency, craves it, since he doesn't see it anywhere else except in his relationship with you.

#tpb #tpb x reader #trailer park boys #trailer park boys selfship #trailer park boys x reader #trailer park boys fanfiction #julian tpb #julian x reader #julian tpb x reader #tpb julian #mwrites

[mr-writes]

i’m in the home stretch of this draft and to celebrate i’m gonna give y’all a little snippet

#mwrites #secret wip #i’m just so in love with these characters and this story

[fantrollology]

Walking it Back: PT 1

Characters: Fledge, Alaska

Word Count: 2,103

uhhh i started this over a year ago! i sit on things for a while. id like to get better at writing stuff more consistently but idk im happy w how it came out! hopefully u will not have to wait as long for part 2.

if u read it ummm ty! <3

---

“Hm.” The girl's eyes studied an unremarkable intersection on the floor of the exam room, avoiding the gaze of the doctor standing a few feet from her, who pressed the door closed behind himself following his greeting. Her fingers played with the paper pulled over the examination table.

“Something the matter?” While his tone seemed as genuine as she could gauge, the question made her regret acknowledging the misnomer at all. He set a bag down on the counter across from her and brought out his clipboard from under his arm.

She shook her head.

“Please, it’s alright. What’s up?”

“Uhm,” she paused. Her feet pressed at each other gently over the side of the table. “No one calls me that anymore.”

“Oh, well what do people call you now?” he flipped to the front page of his clipboard and leaned gently against the counter, facing her.

“Uh, Fledge.”

He smirked. “That stuck, huh?”

She shrugged. The little hexagon where the tiles met remained interesting.

He shook his head at his clipboard.

“General Drakon is so cavalier about that sort of thing. I wouldn’t be surprised if everyone thought that was your actual name if he was the one to introduce you. Still though, surviving this long?” He let out a little laugh. “That’s a lifelong nickname now, I’m sure.” 

He looked at her as if he were going to wait for acknowledgement, but then continued. 

“I’m not much of the nickname sort myself but, hey, I think I’m willing to make an exception for you.” He scratched something onto the clipboard.

“Okay.”

He tucked the clipboard back under his side and lopped himself down on the office stool. Its momentum gently wheeled him into the range of Fledge’s downturned line of sight.

“Do you remember me?” he asked.

She let him slide his way into her vision and then quickly found another spot on the floor to look at. She shook her head.

“That’s fine.” He waved a hand. “I’m Dr. Alcess Alaska. I conducted your entry psionic evaluation a few sweeps ago. Couldn’t have been more than an hour or two.”

Fledge nodded.

“I’m here with you today to talk about a project proposal.”

Fledge nodded.

“So, you’re aware how even though you’re stationed here, you’re actually a member of the Imperial Psionic Corps, yes?”

Fledge nodded.

“I’m aware you’ve had some training, but do you know much about what they do?”

“A little.”

“What do you know?” he asked, in an attempt to coax a more-than-two-word response from her.

“They’re…” it felt exhausting for Fledge to even think of saying a full sentence. She breathed out. “They’re all psionics, and they do stuff for the fleet.”

“That’s the jist of it, yes.” 

“But,” he raised a finger, “They’re all very specialized psionics, not helmsmen or telekinetics or simple mind-readers. They receive individual training for their abilities.”

She knew that, of course. It was the whole reason she was a part of it. Still, she nodded.

“There’s a standard timeline for progression through the IPC’s induction, but after doing your entry evaluation I found that there’s a lot of potential with your abilities that I think deserve more unique attention.”

He started to say something else, but then cut himself off. He studied her floorlocked gaze, how her fingers crushed the paper between them.

“Fledge, do you know much about psionics? Your psionics? How they work, I mean.”

Fledge shook her head.

He drummed his fingers on the clipboard for a moment before scooting across the room to grab his bag from the counter. He opened it on his lap and set a couple things on the counter as he rooted through it, then wheeled back over to Fledge. He then reached back in and pulled out a colorful plastic brain and a small container containing a few plastic lobes. He removed the lid from the container and set it on the examination table next to Fledge, then set the bag on the floor and lifted the brain from his lap.

“Alright, so, stop me if I say anything you already know. Okay?” He waited for her acknowledgement this time, a barely perceptible nod, and then removed a blue lobe from the back of the brain, that Fledge could now see was held on with a magnet.

“This is the cucular lobe. All trolls have one, but in psionics, it’s a little larger. The shape and the other lobes it has contact with can affect the sort of abilities a psionic has and how they might control them.” Fledge watched keenly as he set the small, normal lobe on the table, and picked up a larger piece of the same color from beside her. “This one is more like yours.” The strong magnet clicked the lobe into place at the rear of the brain.

“See how it curls up past this,” his finger dragged along the brain, along marigold yellow and crimson red plastic; “the occipital lobe, and over to this one? The parietal? This is why your abilities are affected by touch, why you can ‘feel’ electromagnetic energy the way you do.” He offered her the brain. She let him pass it to her and immediately began picking off the other lobes and letting them snap back into place.

“You have what we call a material-responsive M-Type ability,” he continued, watching her play idly. “You can manipulate, but your abilities are moreso characterized by their sensitivity, your extrasensory perception, rather than their ability to make drastic physical changes. More typical of ceruleans, but yours have a certain versatility, and there’s a lot of potential I believe could be accessed through some implants and, of course, appropriate training.”

He took another piece from the container, a long, thin, curved, grey piece. He held it up.

“This is a type of foci. There’s several different kinds; you may have seen other IPC members with the foci behind their ears; those are the most common. This one is an implant and mostly invisible once installed. They allow for the observation of lobe activity, enable additional cerebral pathways, and can be used to enhance psionic ability in a number of ways.” 

He gestured for the brain. She held it out to him and he snapped on the piece, which curled from the front left of the organ back and over the cucular lobe. He withdrew his hands.

“I believe that, by using enhancements to magnify your psychic perception of electromagnetic energy, you can better control the ability. Instead of blowing up televisions and feeling static, you could…. turn the lights on and off, you could…”

---

A shot fired through the skull of the troll in front of her, spattering green viscera across the dry ground at Fledge’s feet.

She hadn’t been paying attention when the olive stepped forward and raised her weapon. Some fleet officer had been talking to whoever these trolls were about whatever they were doing-- a mutiny, maybe? -- whatever. It wasn’t Fledge’s turn. Fledge knew what the signal was, she knew how aggressive these trolls were allowed to get, and she knew what she was meant to do when either of those conditions were met. She just hadn’t done it without her gloves before. The thought had distracted her. Her hands dropped from rubbing at the nodes embedded in her wrist as the body thwapped to the ground. She didn’t need to look to know the sniper's barrel was already shoved down into the dirt, the more experienced soldier berating them— Stop, that’s what she’s for.

C’mon fledgling. Pay attention. Be here.

One pulse. Forward, 170 degree arc. This will dispel incoming psionics and ballistics, but will dissipate after about three metres.

A strong enough magnetic field through the brain is enough to disrupt regular synapse operation and cause seizures. One at the door, two on the balcony. Close the circuit, an invisible spherical tie around their head, and then release. Her fingers twitched about in front of her. It was a shot of air through her nerves, crawling down behind her eyes and across her body like a cool drink of water. Her eyes hunted around for another to show themselves. When none did, her fingers ground into her palms, deaf to her surroundings until a hand met her shoulder.

“That was good. Quicker on the pickup next time, maybe,” the officer quipped while she examined the damage, then started walking, letting her hand slip from Fledge’s shoulder. “Let’s see if whoever is inside is more reasonable,” she hummed.

Fledge followed as the others behind her dealt the finishing blow to the incapacitated troll near the door, another that fell from the balcony. Her mind began to warm again. She lifted the edge of her jacket, touching the bit of green flecked onto the edges. Would that wash out?

---

Alaska waved a hand as if to catch an answer from the air “...move ferromagnetic material. Just… apply magnetic fields and induce current more deliberately, precisely.”

She turned the brain gently in her hands, her thumb ran over the implant. A piece of metal in her head?

“We wouldn’t start with the foci, since your brain is still developing, but it would definitely be a part of this at some point. For now, I think it’d be best to do more research first. Like, where and how exactly do you feel electromagnetic energy?”

He raised a hand as her mouth opened. Ah, one of those not-question questions.

“I’m sure it’s hard to explain,” he continued, “but we can observe it. Before we can enhance, we would get you some peripherals, external gear to gauge what we can.” He gestured over his arms, his clipboard now set beside her on the table. “That will allow us to finely examine the activity of your culural lobe and its relationship to your movements and nerves. I theorize that down the line it might end up being beneficial to install internal receivers in other places too, since your perception is very likely beyond what’s processed by your CL, but that can wait.”

“I have some reading for you here…” he bent down from the stool and pulled out a packet from the side of the bag. She set the brain in her lap to take it from him. “One of the documents goes over the details of this specific project, but I also included some information on focii and some articles on other MRM psionics.”

“And this—” he reached over and tapped the corner of the packet, where a small, stiff card was paper-clipped to the front. “—is my contact information, so you can message me for any follow-up questions you might have.” He smiled and his hands returned to his lap.

“Of course, if you have any questions for me now I’d be more than happy to answer them.”

She nodded slowly as she thumbed through the pages. Diagrams of brains, titles containing words she knew, others she didn’t. She had questions, she was sure, but she didn’t know what they were or how to ask them.

“None right now?”

She shook her head, not looking up from the packet in her hands.

“Alright, well if anything comes to mind, you reach out, okay? Then, when I’m back next perigee, we can go over everything again, and make a decision.”

“I’ll do it.” It seemed so obvious to her. This was why she was here. Whatever doubt she had could be addressed later.

“I like the enthusiasm,” he chuckled, “but I won’t have time to start until next perigee anyways. I’ll be ready then if you’re still on board, okay?”

“Okay.”

“You can keep the brain, if you want. I have another.” She didn’t know if she wanted it or not, but he decided for her as he lifted his bag from the floor and wheeled his chair over to the counter to put the rest of his things away.

She followed suit with her new belongings and clicked the lid back onto the container of spare lobes. The clear box fit nicely into her jacket pocket, and she tucked the packet under her arm as Alaska had done with his clipboard. The brain stayed in her hands.

She hopped off of the examination table. Her thumb ran over the implant that curled around the organ. A fleeting thought, or maybe one of those questions she didn’t know how to verbalize, tried to etch its way to the surface, to piece itself together in her mouth, but got cut off by the doctor’s voice as he opened the door for her.

“It was good seeing you again, Fledge.”

#fledge #mwrites #uhhh i started this almosty a year ago #thanks chase for helping me bring it to the finish line #again i have no idea how big of a reveal this is for some people #soooo #fledge speaks #fledge writes #idfk i forget how i tag writes its been so long #alaska #alaska writes #alaska speaks #????

[undignifiedaquarium]

loving you out loud

for @locklyle-week day 1: firsts

a/n: First “I love you.” Here’s a little something I wrote because as much as I crave reading desparate confessions drawn out in the middle of dangerous situations, they also deserve something softer. Set in the future. I am v new to this fandom and writing these characters so please, be kind.

They’ve never been much for words. Or at least he hasn’t, not in the way that matters, Lockwood thinks as he peers over the top of his magazine at Lucy curled up on the other end of the couch. She’s got her nose buried in a book, completely oblivious to him. Her eyebrows are adorably scrunched together and her eyes feverishly tear across the pages in front of her.

It’s been years since she walked into his life and it still always feels like there are so many things he hasn’t told her, or doesn’t say enough. They are much more practiced at revealing things through unspoken communication. So much can be said through a glance across the kitchen table in the morning, smiles exchanged over tea, or touches and gifts and rescues that they have done a million times over by now. Sometimes it feels like they don’t ever need to articulate what’s left unsaid because they both know the score. But still, Lockwood thinks to himself, she deserves more than that.

It’s not like Lucy has ever been one to mince words. She’s called him out on his own bullshit time and time again, challenging him and reminding him that there are people who care about whether or not he makes it home alive. Her honesty was one of the first things that impressed him in that fated interview. She says what she thinks, and doesn’t back down. Truth be told it has saved them all in so many ways since then, even if it may drive him and George mad from time to time.

Looking at her now, Lockwood is once again captivated by her. In her pajamas, curled up with a quilt nestled around her and a steaming cup of tea in her hand she looks so comfortable, so relaxed. She looks radiant. It makes his heart pang with adoration. He wants to capture this moment and keep reliving it for the rest of time.

Because for every moment like this that they get, there are three more where his heart is hammering in his chest with worry or panic that something bad is going to happen to the beautiful, brave, incredible girl cozied up across from him. Too many of their firsts have happened in or been born from those moments when their lives are on the line and he aches a bit to give them both some softer memories.

Lucy chuckles lightly to herself at the other end of the couch, clearly having read something of note in that book of hers. She then takes a massive bite of the biscuit in her hand and finally looks up, meeting his eyes.

“What?” Lucy asks, “I got crumbs on my jumper or something?”

Lockwood laughs, “No, nothing like that. I just…I love you, that’s all.”

“Oh is that all?” She sits up and puts her book down next to her, a grin splitting across her face but also a hint of exasperation in her voice.

He feels himself blushing slightly, and looks down at his hands before glancing back up at her.

“Yes, well I know that sometimes I’m not the best at…articulating what I’m feeling. But I wanted to get it on the record and all that.”

“Lockwood I — “ she starts, scooting close and reaching out to take his hands in hers.

But he’s already on a roll. “I just realized I had never actually said it out loud and, well, we’ve put off a lot of other things until we’re in the thick of it and I wanted to make sure I told you now and not when we’re, you know, fighting for our lives. Point being, I don’t want that to be one more thing I’ve left unsaid.”

He’s really started rambling now, because her eyes have gone wide with something bordering on disbelief. Lucy is giving him a look that tells him she had absolutely no idea he’s been head over heels for her for…shit he doesn’t even know how long. Long enough that loving her feels as natural as breathing.

“Oh come off it Luce, you know I’ve been in love with you for a damn long time now.”

Her response comes out as a half laugh, half shout, and she smacks him with a throw pillow, “I did not, you idiot!”

Lockwood suddenly turns deadly serious, desperately needing her to understand how much he means this. How he is truly deeply, irrevocably in love. “Lucy, you make me feel seen and cared for in a way that for a long time, I didn’t think would ever be possible again. Even when everything is hard and frankly terrifying, I am still so glad you stormed into my life. I love you.”

At this, Lucy moves one hand to his face, rubbing her thumb softly along his cheekbone and looking at him with such longing and tenderness that he feels like he might just fall in love with her all over again. Lockwood slowly closes the distance between the two of them and kisses her like he’s drowning and she’s a breath of fresh air.

“I love you too, you know.” She breaks away and looks up at him with a soft and teasing smile, “to put it on the record and all that.”

#locklyle #locklyle week 2023 #anthony lockwood #lucy carlyle #can you tell that these two are consuming my every waking thought these days #honestly didn’t even think i was gonna write anything for this week and then #i was *inspired* #and also re-reading some fics i wrote for another fandom a long time ago #all to say…here we are TA DA #mwrites #lockwood and co #lockwood & co #locklyle fic

[taleortwototell]

Welcome welcome! Come on, come in!

Welcome to my little corner of the pocket world! Not a nasty, dirty, foul, corner. But a corner full of pictures and stories from all fantasy worlds to bring a smile to your face and warmth to your heart. I will be sharing stories that will make you feel soft, warm, and fuzzy on the inside. As well as some that may make you laugh till your sides hurt. Perhaps even some stories that will bring a tear to your eye. My hopes in sharing these is to become a better storyteller and to make the world a brighter place. So, off we must go now. Time for a new adventure!!! The roads go ever on and on, under hill and over hill… and you will have a tale or two to tell if you make it back. And if you do make it back, you will not be the same…

#mwrites #TaleOrTwoToTell #Writing #middle earth #Fandom #Hobbits #New Zealand #Adventure #roadgoeseveronandon #Map #Bilbo #Gandalf #Storytelling

[dreemurr-skelememer]

I need to explain fanfiction and One-shots to my teacher- help me- get me out of this!

tell your teacher fanfiction is basically novels but with existing characters that the writer does not own and is only particularly interested in ur welcome

#Anonymous #soryr im tired. i mwriting shit for college i might as well give u an easy way out while im at it

[mattastr0phic]

Touch Starved - Level: Gluttony - Canon: Absolution

A Myricle field days tale! Hope y'all enjoy.

You can read the tale here: Touch Starved - Level Gluttony

Extra art (a bit spoilery, some body horror) under the cut:

Ukulele could’ve sworn that the sight he came to was his dream erupting into a nightmare. But unfortunately, it all felt too real.

#myricle #chainshotgun #clyr #varuke #dr myriad #scp 963 #agent ukulele #dr alto clef #dr clef #a major chord #scp #scp foundation #field agent days #body horror #mart #mwriting #scp scribbles #absolution

[gojoandtojisleftnut]

𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐈𝐏…𝐈 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐄

˚ · . Gojo Satoru x fem!reader

˚ · . synopsis: Gojo can’t say no to his girl, even if that means her riding him in front of his friends.

˚ · . warnings: pure smut, slight voygerism, piv, gojo has a big dick (we already knew), cockwarming?, handjob, teasing, creampie, pet names (baby, angel, slut), language

gojo has arranged a boys night with his friends tonight at your house. he’s prepared snacks, bought beers and put on the basketball game to watch. you came down to join them the moment the pizza arrived and since then you’ve been bored out of your mind. you glance at your boyfriend sitting on your left, his eyes glued on the game while he laughs with toji, nanami and geto. his right hand resting on the back pillows of the couch and his legs spread just like always. something about his gray sweats, his flexed strong thighs and his hair falling perfectly on his face made you squirm in your seat, making you pull your knees closer to your chest. “you okay baby?” he looks at you worried “just cold.” gojo looks at the other side and reaches for the blanket resting near suguru. muttering a small thank you, you lean towards your boyfriend placing the blanket over your guys’ laps. his right hand gently rests on your legs and his left one reached to cup your cheek, twisting his body to give you a small kiss on your forehead, making your eyes flutter. he sits back at his previous position missing the sparkle his gentle gesture caused in your eyes. his motives were pure but at that moment all you could think about was his hand on your legs and his mouth on your tits.

so you decided to take matters into your own hands, even though its risky and the possibility of his friends catching you was huge. you pull the blanket up to cover you up to your shoulder and scootch even closer to gojo. he takes a quick glance at you but decides to ignore your squirming. by the time he realizes what you’re doing you have already pulled his waistband down and freed his dick. “what are you doing?” he asks through his teeth, looking at you shocked. you let go of his dick and you discreetly spit on your hand while looking him in the eyes. your small hand reaches for his now semi hard on and start pumping him slowly. his breath gets more heavy and you can feel him gripping on your thigh so tight you’re sure it will leave a mark. you wait for the rest of the men to start speaking loud enough again so you can reach up and whisper in his ear. “i need you to fuck me ‘toru, im so wet”. you instantly feel him twitch against your palm, a moan almost escaping his mouth “not here angel, you’ll get us caught.” his hand reaches for the one pumping his dick, stopping your movements. but you weren’t about to give up “just the tip…please” you whine, your plump lips ghosting over his sweet spot, leaving a little kiss on his pulse. he looks down at you, just to see you looking back up at him with your best ‘fuck me’ eyes that he loves so much. “Okay”

you climb on top of him catching the attention of the other three men but gojo discards them telling them you’re cold and tired. securing your hands around his neck you lower yourself on his pink tip, making you both moan. a little time goes by and you can feel your pussy leaking and your legs getting tired. you wait for gojo to have his full attention towards the tv and slowly bottom down on his shaft, your wetness making him slip right in. his grip on your waist instantly tightens and his eyes widen. You give him a saccharine smile and start rocking your hips slowly. the sound of your wet pussy cancelled every other sound in the room. his eyes checking if anybody can see what you guys are doing. the thought of his friends catching him fucking his little girlfriend made his dick twitch even more.

he can hear you panting in his ear and forces your hips to grind harder. the friction of his happy trail on your clit made you shiver. his tip kissing your cervix brings you to your orgasm and gojo feels like he’s about to lose his mind. “sato cum inside me please baby. i need you to fill me up.” your pleas don’t fall onto deaf ears and he kisses your lips before pulling you roughly against him by your hips. the movement catches tojis attention and gojo instantly feels you tighten around him. once the ravenette turned back to the game once again, gojo rocked you onto his cock one last time before you felt his cum fill you up and leak out of your cunt. his lips ghosting your as he holds your head with his huge palm “this what you wanted baby? to be filled like a slut?”. you pout and nod your lips connecting once more. “lay down baby, i’ll give you more later mkay?”

#mwrites ⋆·˚ ༘ * #jujutsu kaisen #satoru gojo #jujutsu kaisen x you #gojo smut #jjk anime #anime #satoru gojo x female reader #gojo satoru x female reader #gojo x reader smut #gojo x female reader #jjk gojo #jjk smut #jjk x fem!reader #gojo x fem!reader #satoru gojo x y/n #gojo x y/n #gojo x yn smut #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo satoru smut

[princessasmosprincess]

I should probably write some drabbles. I have some idea for some cute, angsty short pieces. Self-indulgent but I bet someone would like them too... hmm...

#hmmmmn #mwriting

[dreamboyslut]

///

new obsession is making two best friends fall for me, both courting me like it's a competition, I'm just enamored with both, mostly high on the attention, their grand gestures, their demonstrations of love, feeling fucking powerful from their desire,

until they get tired of me refusing to choose and they just decide I can be shared, now that they think about it I have enough holes for the both of them, so one night they come to my room together and let themselves in as soon as I open the door, start kissing and caressing me, get rid of all our clothes, lay me down on the bed and trap me between both their bodies, and i'm too dizzy to keep track of whose hands or mouth is fondling my chest, my belly, my lips, completely abandoning myself when i'm suddenly full of them at the same time and they're fucking all out of synch at first, and laughing in my ears, but when they find the good rhythm it only takes a few minutes before i climax hard and my eyes are rolling in my fucking head, but they're not letting me go and keep going until they reach their own orgasm,

and I'm just happy to give in because that was my plan all along

#i swear i can take it #give me all the love #trans sub #ftm sub #trans bottom #poly nsft #mwrites #laughing in my ear while im getting fucked...... hello #and they make me feel so beautiful #not really easy but i crave this kind of attention #ftm nsft #trans nsft #mlm nsft #trans mlm #ftm mlm #these tags include nonbinary plp

[hash-driveway]

Down With Me

Roxanne, Sunnyvale's newest resident, meets Julian and Ricky after they return from jail. Troubled by her traumatic relationship with her ex, will she be able to open up in her newfound home?

Bubbles isn’t in jail in this one.  I need him for exposition ok!! Roxanne is all of us and we are all Roxanne.

Also on AO3!

NEXT CHAPTER

CHAPTER ONE

Roxanne’s favorite part of living in Sunnyvale was the way that the sun beamed down onto her porch in the mornings.  Her routine, newly developed since moving to Sunnyvale, had a sense of peace about it since moving away from the city.  Instead of dragging herself out of bed, to then drag herself to her soul-sucking desk job, then back to her lackluster apartment, she felt energized to begin her day.  

After rising from bed, she would get ready for her morning jog around the trailer park.  When she lived with her ex, she hardly ever had the time to keep up with exercise.  Instead, she would resort to not eating much throughout her day to save herself time.  She had to be as productive as possible. Now that she had this fresh start, she could take more time for herself.  It was something that she had to get used to at first, but once she did, she fully embraced it.  It felt good to let go of the pressure and stress that she lived in for so long. 

Roxie developed a rapport with some of her neighbors on her morning jogs.  She met Lucy and Sarah, two best friends (who Roxie was surprised to find out were not in a relationship) who did hair out of their trailer sometimes.  Lucy’s daughter, Trinity, lived with them.  Trinity was a little hellion, stealing barbecues and throwing bottles.  Luckily, when Roxie caught her trying to steal her barbecue, she wasn’t intimidated by the little kid’s attitude.  Instead, she earned the child’s respect by talking with Lucy about the situation in a way that didn’t make her feel guilty.  After that, the three of them became friends.  

She also met Bubbles, a peculiar guy with the most alarming Coke-bottle glasses she’d ever seen.  He lived out of the shed across the street from her trailer.  Roxie took it upon herself to put some cat food out on her first night, and Bubbles noticed and came to her door.  At first, he was a bit offended, assuming she thought that he didn’t feed his kitties sufficiently.  He fed them good, he said, better than most kitties in the world.  She believed him.  

And of course, Roxie knew Jim Lahey and Randy, the Trailer Park Supervisor and Assistant Trailer Park Supervisor, respectively.  Jim was always drunk, and Randy was always shirtless. They weren’t as nosy as her previous landlords, who would barrage her with emails about her hanging plants on the balcony, or the decorations she’d put on her door.  Since she was the leaseholder, she was the one who was always being contacted for stupid shit, like her ex parking in the handicap spot or being late on rent because he couldn’t be bothered to save any money.  Her ex never took responsibility for anything.  

Across the street from her new place sat a white single-wide with brown trim.  Two young guys, Corey and Trevor, lived there and completely trashed it.  It was unfortunate seeing the state of disarray Julian’s home was in while he was away.  

She had never met Julian, of course.  Bubbles spoke about him and Ricky so often that Roxie felt like she might as well know them.  Bubbles often told her about how excited he was for his friends to get out of jail.  

That’s why Bubbles stopped her on her run this morning.  As soon as she passed Julian’s trailer on her second lap around, Bubbles ran to her in a panic.  

“Roxie! Please, I need your help.  I don’t know how I’m going to get Corey and Trevor out of Julian’s place,” he exclaimed, taking a moment to whine stressfully, “He’s going to be back any minute, and they just fucked his place up.  They won’t listen to me!” 

Out of breath and hunched over, Roxie panted through her words, “Bubbles, I’m sure Julian will be able to handle it. Corey and Trevor don’t seem too bright.” 

Bubbles sighed, not feeling any better, “Yeah, well, they’re fuckin’ idiots, but they’re in there tearing the place up… Smoking, drinking, and playing video games all day and night.  They don’t even care to clean up after themselves.” 

“It’ll be okay, Bubbs, I promise.” 

The rest of her morning went on as usual: Shower, change clothes, and brew coffee.  She sat on the small porch of her trailer, basking in the sun.  Roxie had on a gray tank top which now soaked up the water dripping from her hair, and shorts.  While it was early spring, it surely got hot enough for her to wear summer clothes already. 

Placing her coffee down, Roxie reached into her pocket and grabbed her plastic cigarette case, which held half a pack and a half-smoked joint.  She was saving the weed for later, maybe if she hung out with Lucy and Sarah that evening.  Roxie lit up a cigarette and let time stop for a moment as the morning sun warmed her face. 

Just after, her trance was broken by the sound of a cab rolling up across the street.  She watched as Bubbles ran to the vehicle in excitement.  That must be Julian and Ricky, she thought. 

The guy who exited the cab first wore a button-up houndstooth shirt with Adidas swishy pants.  His hair was a dirty red, styled in a pompadour with impressive sideburns.  His eyes were covered by small oval sunglasses.  He was cute. 

“Bubbs!” He shouted as he gave Bubbles a hug, “I fuckin’ missed ya, buddy.” 

Bubbles whined and hugged his friend back, “Ricky! I missed you, too!”  Roxie smiled to herself, happy that Bubbles wouldn’t be so lonely anymore.   

As the two reunited, the other side of the cab opened.  Roxie was greeted by the sight of a tall man with black hair, slicked back and shiny.  His dark goatee framed his jaw, and as he turned to retrieve their bags from the trunk, his earring caught the light of the morning sun.  His shoulders were broad, and a gold chain rested on his chest. In one hand, he held a drink, which never seemed to spill in spite of the movements he made.  He was built, but not cut.  He looked like the kind of guy that you wouldn’t want to fuck with.  

Roxie watched as Julian propped both duffel bags onto one shoulder, and a small wave of fervor swept through her stomach.  She took another drag, and stole glances at Julian as she eavesdropped from across the street. 

“Bubbs, what the fuck happened to my trailer?” Julian’s voice was deep and steady despite his aggravated tone. 

Bubbles stammered as he explained to Julian how he tried to kick Corey and Trevor out of his trailer, but that they wouldn’t listen.  Julian shook his head and made his way into his home with Ricky following behind him.  A commotion erupted from the trailer– a combination of shouting and objects falling over.  Corey and Trevor really did trash the place.  There was garbage and empty bottles where the flowerbeds used to be, and the porch was filled with junk.  Roxie couldn’t imagine how disgusting the inside of the house was. 

Bubbles looked around, a distressed look on his face.  Roxie stood as they made eye contact from across the street, and mouthed: 

“Everything okay?” 

Bubbles whined again and threw his hands up in exasperation before heading over to her.  

“I fucked up, Roxie.  I tried so hard to get them to leave, but those dicks are so drunk and high all the time that they never listen!”

She snuffed her cig and patted Bubbles on the back, “You tried your best, Bubbles.  It looks like your friends have it handled.” 

As she spoke, Ricky and Julian were throwing all of Corey and Trevor’s shit out of the front door.  Ricky pushed Corey out first, then Trevor.  Their protests fell on deaf ears as Julian scolded them and told them to start cleaning his trailer immediately.  

When the two made their way over to Bubbles, Roxie started feeling nervous.  Nervous? Fuck no, she was probably just excited to meet her new neighbor…right? Right.  

Julian approached and consoled Bubbles, making sure that his friend knew that it wasn’t his fault.  

“It’s alright, Bubbles. I should have known those dicks were up to something fucked up.” Julian regarded Roxie, eyeing her up and down before greeting her, “Hey.” 

“Hi,” she waved at him, “Roxie.” 

“Jeez, Bubbs.  You went ahead and got a girlfriend while we were gone, huh?” Ricky teased. 

Bubbles groaned, “Ricky! She’s not my girlfriend.  Just my friend.” 

“Is that right?” responded Julian, the faintest inkling of intrigue in his voice, “Nice to meet you.” 

Roxie smiled, “Likewise.” 

They shared a brief moment of eye contact until Ricky shouted at Corey and Trevor to “pick up the fucking pace” because he “wanted to watch TV and smoke a joint” with Julian and Bubbles.  

“Boys, let’s hurry the fuck up and get Corey and Trevor out of Julian’s! I want to have a tiny bit of a relaxing evening.” 

“See you,” said Julian, “Let me know if you need anything.” 

“Okay.  Bye, Julian.” 

As the boys returned to berating Corey and Trevor, Roxie found herself smiling.  Was her face red?  Oh God, it must have been weird of her to only say goodbye to Julian, right? Maybe she was being too obvious.  

She grabbed the half-smoked cigarette from her ashtray and went back inside before she got too excited about meeting her new neighbor.  

#i love you tumblr for retaining formatting. mwwwah #mwrites #julian tpb #tpb julian #julian x reader #julian tpb x reader #tpb fanfic #trailer park boys x reader #trailer park boys fanfic #trailer park boys fanfiction

[mr-writes]

"“You could never hurt me,” I whisper. It’s an empty promise and we both know it, and yet we both cling to it. “Please, Maddox. I need to see your eyes.”

Need to see the inky darkness that is so unlike the icy depths of Zephyr’s eyes.

Need to forget everything, if even for only a moment.

Need to be suspended in time.

Need to drown."

#writeblr #writers of tumblr #writing #mwrites #mcreates #secret wip

[fantrollology]

Pockets

Characters: Fledge, Arunae

Word Count: 1,153

Context: Arunae and Fledge are somewhat recent defects of the Alternian fleet. They currently reside on a neutral space station known as Parable.

---

Once a week Fledge returned to her bunk to find seven nights worth of uniform changes neatly set into the drawers. It was her job, then, to strip off the last of the week's clothes and send it down the chute to join the rest of her laundry.

This suited her; she didn’t have much of an eye for fashion, much less a convenient means of shopping for anything beyond what was provided (save for fleet-branded attire, which felt redundant) and so the limited wardrobe was well worth the convenience of having clothing washed and returned on a regular basis. It was arguable if the seclusion of living within the ships med-bay was also worth the trade, but debating this never particularly captured her thought.

The one piece of attire that wasn’t cycled out daily were the jackets. Though presumably thousands of nearly identical jackets existed across the fleets other psionic specialists, they were clearly differentiated by the embroidered patch displaying recruiting numbers. For her: 2501. The jackets were issued the same day she was assigned the number. She would wear a jacket for seven nights at a time before it was washed, and as such, she had two of them.

Well, two jackets made sense. It certainly wasn’t beyond the fleet’s resources to have more in circulation in case there was ever a lapse in schedule, or even to sew on a new patch each time if they so wished, but the infallible nature of the laundry made her doubt it was necessary.

Still, this she had thought about, and it bothered her. So, at one point she resolved to make a small tear in the right internal pocket of her jacket, and one in the left pocket of the other the following week. The damage was inconsequential enough not to warrant notice or repair, but enough for her to roll her thumb over and confirm it was hers. Surely enough, the next week, and the week after that, she would find that tear, oscillating back and forth between the pockets. It brought her a certain comfort she never analyzed further.

Only once was a jacket replaced. During a mission the left-torn jacket was stained a deep green, and the laundry apparently determined it unsalvageable, or perhaps simply not worth the effort to clean. The replacement was made without notice. After this, Fledge did not let another jacket become stained. She would wash out small imperfections in her bathroom to mitigate any doubt of its return.

The one she had brought with her had the tear in the right pocket. Fledge had accumulated a semblance of a wardrobe since her and Arunae’s arrival on Parable, and had learned to do her own laundry. There was something different about washing her own clothes, setting a temperature, a time, a cycle speed. Arunae would throw all her clothes in a single load, dump in a “looks like enough” amount of detergent, and slam the door shut. Fledge’s mind did not offer her this luxury. She would separate colors (admittedly her wardrobe was mostly “darks”) and obey each little tag’s every symbol. It was kind, she thought, of Arunae to never mention it.

This history ran through Fledge’s mind like she was a mother outside of a hospital ward. Two nights prior, Arunae laughed a little too hard and the potently dyed fruit-something drink she had been holding spilled over the front of Fledge’s jacket. She quickly offered to clean it amidst a flurry of apologies, already starting to peel it off Fledge’s shoulders. Fledge declined and wordlessly sped to their apartment to rinse it in the sink, to little avail. Arunae waited the hour with her while it made its solo-trip through the wash and mourned with Fledge when it came out still red. It was at that point Arunae suggested dry-cleaning. There was a small shop on Parable that had a solid reputation in treating flight-suits. At the moment the perky oliveblood manning the counter was retrieving the jacket from the back.

“So,” she approached the front with the plastic-wrapped jacket and raised it to pass it over the counter without touching the surface. “We were able to get that red stain out. We also found a little tear in one of the internal pockets and took care of that. No additional charge, of course.” 

“Oh, that’s awesome!” Arunae cooed. She received the jacket from the oliveblood and held it up to Fledge, smoothing her hand over the clear plastic.

“Aaaand…” the oliveblood continued, poking through some baskets beneath the counter. “We found this in one of the other pockets. Not sure what it is, but figured you might want it.” She popped up and held out a plastic bag containing a blackish, mint-tin sized object to Fledge.

Fledge’s eyes shot over from the jacket and she gently took the bag.

“What’s that?” Arunae craned over the shoulder of the jacket.

“I’m not sure,” Fledge lied. It didn’t feel good, but it was what she said.

Arunae shrugged and handed off the jacket to Fledge so she could pay. Fledge turned the object in her hand. Its presence seemed unbelievable. How many sweeps had it been in there?

She jolted a bit when Arunae threw an affectionate arm around her and gave her a squeeze. “Hey, how about that? Looks brand spankin’ new.” 

“Mhmm,” Fledge offered Arunae a little smile. She could undo the repair easily enough.

- - -

While Arunae showered, Fledge pulled her bag out from under her peracoon for the first time since they arrived on the station. She was trying not to get too stirred up; it wasn’t unlikely what she was looking for hadn’t made its way with them. She certainly didn’t remember packing it, though she knew it had at least followed her to her bunk within The Conquest’s ship. Fledge wasn’t one to throw things out, after all, merely leave things behind, and her bunks were often packed for her during transfers.

She dug through what was, as she suspected, mostly junk; every worthless item pumped lead into the little weight in her chest. The lump shot into her throat when she saw it: a bulky amateur radio grade walkie talkie, the same blackish color as the chunky battery she held now in her hand. She was perfectly capable of powering the device on her own, of course, but it did take away from its charm. She turned it over to inspect it; the silver ink of her name, her nickname, “Fledge” was still visible on the back in handwriting too nice to be hers. She slid the battery up the grooves of the back, and clicked it into place. It was a moment before she flipped the switch to power it on, and another before she pressed her thumb into the ‘transmit’ button to release the squelch. The electromagnetic hum it emitted climbed through her veins like a sunrise.

#fledge writes #ship: jumping ship #tag later #fledge #mwrites #quiescent-trolls

[undignifiedaquarium]

let me take care of you

for @locklyle-week days 2 + 4: food + domesticity (sorry if this is sorta cheating, oops)

a/n: they care for each other in so many other situations so why not something that has absolutely nothing to do with ghosts? lucy gets sick and lockwood makes it his life’s mission to bring her soup and tea :)

Lucy wakes up feeling like she’s been run over by a train. Her head pounds, her whole body feels dreadfully heavy, and she can feel her nose clogging up more and more with every breath she takes. She groans and rolls over, wrapping herself even tighter in her quilt and promptly falling back asleep.

———————————

She doesn’t know how long she’s been out, but when she blinks her eyes open again, she wakes to a gentle prodding of her shoulder and —

“Lucy? Luce, you okay?”

Lockwood. Lockwood?

“Lockwood?” She mumbles into her pillow. She turns her head just enough to look at him.

He’s backed away a bit and now stands just a few feet from her bed, concern mapped out across his face. “Lucy, what’s wrong? You’ve been up here for almost the whole day. I knocked on the door but you wouldn’t answer and well, we have a case tonight and so I figured I’d come up to check and…wait, are you sick?”

Lucy musters her best grunt and turns to fully face him. She knows she must look pathetic and frankly, a little gross with her red eyes and nose running.

But instead of looking utterly repulsed and fleeing, Lockwood moves closer. He reaches down and places the back of his hand on her forehead.

“God, Luce you’re burning up. I think you’ve got a fever,” he says. “Let me go get you water and some medicine, okay?”

She starts to protest, “Lockwood, I’m really fine — “

“Oh come on Luce, you won’t feel better if you don’t at least drink something.” He cuts her off with a wave of his hand and turns back towards the stairs.

As Lockwood gets to the landing, she hears the attic door close behind him followed by the sound of George’s voice, “What, you playing nursemaid now?”

That earns a swift, “Shut up, George” from Lockwood before both of them make their way down to the kitchen.

———————————

Lockwood returns later with a tray that holds a glass of water, piping hot tea in her favorite mug, a bowl of soup, and some crackers along with the cold medicine he had promised. He sits down softly on the side of her bed and places the tray down next to him.

Lucy sits up slightly in bed, propping herself up on her pillows. She takes in the spread (the feast, really) that he’s brought her, and her heart suddenly feels so full. He’s taking care of her. This thought is followed by a sudden flash of guilt and embarrassment.

“Lockwood, you don’t have to…take care of me, you know.”

“I know,” he says as if it’s silly to even suggest otherwise. “But I just knew you would be grumpy for weeks if you missed out on this delicious soup George made all because of a measly cold,” he jokes.

He flashes her one of his patented Lockwood smiles. Screw the cold medicine, all she needs is a dose of that everyday and she thinks she would be set for the rest of her life.

“You better be careful though,” she teases. “I might just be contagious. Maybe I’ll infect you.” She pokes him as she says this, and he puts on a look of mock offense.

“You wouldn’t dare,” he says with yet another smile, as if him catching a cold from her would be a hilarious work of her own personal vengeance.

Lockwood carefully takes the glass of water and the medicine from tray, handing them to her one at a time. Lucy accepts both, taking the medicine with a large gulp of water before placing the glass gently on her nightstand.

“You made me tea?” She asks.

He nods, “Just how you like it. You should really try to eat something too though. You’re gonna need the energy to recuperate, Luce. And you can forget about the case tonight, I already called Mr. Martin and told him we needed to postpone.”

Lockwood passes the cup to her and then slides the tray with food onto her lap. Honestly, she’s too tired to protest any of it and after all he is right; she does need the rest.

He sits with her as she eats and sips on her tea, chatting away about the case, the neighbors, the gossip in his society magazine. Lucy slowly tests the soup and crackers, ultimately deciding that holy fuck, George is a phenomenal cook and she really should find him and tell him so when she finally feels well enough to leave this damn room.

Eventually they settle into a comfortable silence, and Lucy thinks about how she hasn’t had people to take care of her like this in a long time. Maybe she never did. When she was with Jacobs, they were often forced to go out in the field even when they were under the weather. And lord knows her mother, and even her sisters never brought her medicine and food in bed when she was feeling ill. She feels endlessly thankful for this little family she has found with Lockwood and George.

“Hey Lockwood?” She says, looking up to meet his eyes. “Thank you, for this…and well, for everything really.”

He leans forward and pushes a lock of hair away from her face that had been matted to her sweat sheened brow. He tucks it gently behind her ear, his hand lingering ever so slightly.

His response is so soft, it almost feels like a whisper. “No thanks needed, Luce. We’ll take care of you — I’ll take care of you, you know that.”

And with that, he takes the tray and gets up gingerly from the bed.

Before descending the stairs Lockwood turns back once more and says, “Just get some sleep okay? I’ll be back in a few hours to check on you. Let me know if you need anything else.”

She settles back down in bed, pulling the covers up to her chin. She’s not sure if it was the soup, the medicine, or the company but she’s feeling much better already.

#locklyle week 2023 #locklyle #locklyle fic #lucy carlyle #anthony lockwood #lockwood & co #lockwood and co #so i guess my writing niche is soft domesticity? #also literally I couldn’t resist it’s just so wholesome #mwrites

[sucrate]

its.POSTING TIME !!!! (subjects you to posts etceterea )

#many thoughts head full #IM SO SERIOUS I HATE COVER LETTERS !!!!! IM STILL ON ABOUT THIS !!!!!!!!!!! #<- has 0 redeeming qualifications #RAUGHHH I HATE ESSAYS WHERE I HAVE 0 CLUE ABOUT WHAT I MWRITING ABOUT #RAAUGH I !!!! drew kirby posting it 1 second :3 <- unbeknownst to him it will take a day #nyways i was thinking of finally doing art and posting things :3 and doing a redraw of a redraw bc i DO THAT !!!!!!! 💪 wooHOO !!! #<- when i have time .