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luvwestwood · 3 months

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"Give Me Five" - Choso Kamo

4,591 words.

₊˚༊*·˚ warnings. nsfw (18+), ice-hockey player! choso, bestfriend's brother trope, p in v, resolved sexual tensions, foreplay, fingering, titty sucking, choso fucks you in his jersey, orgasm denial, praising, hair pulling, rough play, nsfw links (underlined), spitting kink, mirror play, feral choso

₊˚༊*·˚ notes. I absolutely enjoyed making this special request for @moonriseoverkyoto! thank you all so much for 700 followers ^^ included a link for you lovelies as a gift, hehe I hope to send more work your way soon :) thank you for the love and support this whole month!

rightful art credits to @/kmskc_f, @/yume041624, @/elcheggen, @/uoru1_juju (all on twt)!

(russian translation) - creds to @juliabelll 🩷

Goosebumps formed all over your skin as you were met with the coldness of the rink. Bits of regret filled you for being stubborn this morning, choosing to not wear extra layers. Squinting, you look around to find a close friend of yours, not too far a figure jumping up and down catches your eye.

"Hey! Over here- I'm here!" Yuji called to you in his typical, chirpy voice. Multiple heads turned to the sudden commotion, followed by another look to your direction. Embarrassed, you facepalm; whispering quiet apologies to others as you squeeze past the row of seats, making your way over.

"Yuji!- I got caught in traffic. Did I miss anything?" You fold down the seat next to him, the excited Yuji passing you another one of those generic team jerseys that he also had on. You take a good look at it before putting the garment over your head, the team colours being black and yellow.

Beside you, the boy rummages through a large plastic bag of popcorn. "Mmph- No- My brother would be happy if he knew- You were here." His eyes were wide open and alert, observing the game like a hawk.

"..Ah, it's nothing. If I didn't go, I would have been rotting at home." You giggled, knowing the real answer. As soon as Yuji sent the text, 'wanna go to my brother's game next weekend?'. You had to go. You've been dying to go. Ever since you met Choso for the first time, you made good use of every opportunity you had to see him.

He had an unforgettable face, and a dreamy body you'd sometimes, and shamelessly catch a glimpse of from time to time. But you were doubting, and unsure if the feeling was mutual. The man was busy, which drove you to think he had no time for a woman in his life.

You fixate your head to the rink in front of you. Of course, you got a hold of the best seats. Yuji being the brother of a world renowned hockey player had it’s benefits.

The same bag of popcorn lands firmly onto your lap, Yuji reaching for the soda cup underneath his foot. "Hmm, he looks pissed though. I think I know why." He leans back, index finger scratching at his head.

You furrow your brows, taking several glances around the ice. A familiar back faced you, 'Kamo' and '12' plastered onto the behind of his jersey. Dark hair effortlessly left down, not too much going on. A couple loose strands falling onto his face, Choso looked like a dream. Yuji beside you shrieks for his name, cheering his brother on.

Choso spins around, glaring at the audience. He was outraged, and you weren't sure why. He didn't dare smile, or wave. Yuji grunts at his brothers reaction, smile fading and slouching back down onto the seat.

"..Oh, I get what you mean now." It was undeniable that Choso was a different person behind his helmet, and that he took the sport seriously. He always wanted to make everyone proud. As one of the best players on his team, everyone counted on him, so there was a generous amount of pressure on his shoulders.

The screeching blow of a whistle shrills throughout the arena for half time, Choso violently shoving his hockey stick onto the ice. Plenty of teammates approach him, others choose to not get involved. Either way, he shoves past them. Everyone around you seemed confused, wondering what made him so agitated. You watched as he cursed to his higher-ups, hands strongly gripping onto the side wall.

"Every day, I fucking hate this sport more and more." Choso speaks through gritted teeth, angrily ripping off his helmet. "Piece of shit."

The staff team stands aside, ushering him out of the rink. His coach guides him over to the side bench, crouching down to give him a typical, motivational chat. Choso only puts his head down and into his gloved hands, becoming more and more annoyed by the second.

"Kamo- you know what? Bring your ass back to the locker room and give yourself five." Not knowing what to do, his coach decides it was best for him to blow off some steam. Not letting out another word, he storms off back into the locker rooms, the crowds groaning as he does so; the privacy invading camera focusing on him.

Chatter filled the air between the crowds around you. “..What happened to him? Your brother just stormed off.” You turn to Yuji, confused and filled with millions of questions.

"No clue, but I'm still a bit hungry." Yuji sighs, looking at the now empty plastic bag of popcorn. He takes a sip of what's left in his soda cup.

"..What? You are?" You look through your purse for some money. More than enough, that's for sure. A wrinkled twenty bill was tucked away inside. "Here- I'll go and get you something. It's on me."

You could've sworn that you had seen happiness twinkle in his eyes. This boy certainly loves to eat. "..Really?" He smiles, in response you nod your head up and down.

"Yeah! Just give me five, I'll be back as soon as possible." You warmly confirm the offer and he nods, shortly before you had to endure the entire process squeezing your way back out of the row.

You walk off into the tunnel leading to the outside of the arena. So many halls, and I’m not even familiar with this place. The two minute stroll led you to nowhere anyways, resulting in you doubting yourself. “…Where’s the food court?” You pout, coming to the conclusion you had probably been walking in circles this whole time.

The next long corridor you were met with was filled with doors everywhere. Loads of them. “..Ah.. have I been here before?”

Walking past each door, you look around for anybody nearby who was able to provide some sort of guidance. Hopeless, there was no one at all. Until one door you had walked past was slightly open, the light on. Maybe someone was in there? You genuinely just wanted to get your hot dogs.

You retrace your steps backwards, the faint sound of two voices coming from the room. Curious, you peeked your head through the slight gap.

"I don't think I did my best out there." It was Choso, elbows on knees on a padded seat. Heaving heavily, pulling the last strings of himself together. His coach with arms crossed in front of him. The conversation was hard to make out, but you were still able to put together some bits of it.

Clutching tightly onto your necklace, you couldn't help but feel concerned. Choso adored this sport with his entire heart, but so much he didn't have time to do anything else. Yuji always talked about how distant he could be when preparing for the new season.

The cursing stops, and before you know it, the door in front of you was wide open; framing you to look like an absolute snoop. You howl, instantly stepping back from the door frame. The same coach stood in front of you, an appalling look on his face. "Who the hell are you?! A money hungry reporter? Guards!-"

You nervously laugh, "Oh- No, no- I'm not a-", endless words were coming out of your mouth in a complete babble.

"..I know her." Choso who was watching everything unfold, tilted his head to the side, looking to see who was at the door.

The coach looks at you with an unamused expression, giving Choso a double look. His voice grows low, speaking in a discreet manner. "How about you talk it out with him. He needs it." He says before walking away from the frame, giving you a stare down as he does so.

Dumbfounded, a string of words only come out in a disoriented patter, "..I was just, looking for the.. concession stand.."

Choso on the other hand, keeps quiet. Blankly staring at the carpeted floor. His gloves and skates were off, but his jersey still on. You gulp, considering if you should speak anymore; scared that you'll only tick him off further.

Your hands rested in each of your palms, unsure whether you should step inside. "..I'm here with your brother, actually- cause he invited me to-"

"I know. I wanted you to come. I invited you, I told him to ask you." Choso speaks lowly, his tone different from when he was talking to the coach. He lets out a labored sigh, mumbling. "..Only for me to play like absolute shit,"

Processing what he had just said, it still changed your entire perspective. You didn't know how to think of it though, so you simply looked over it.

Deciding to approach him rather than standing at the door like some stranger, you close the door behind you. Recalling the coach talking about 'money hungry reporters', you didn't want to take any chances. "..I don't mean to pry, but do you want to talk about.. this?" Sitting down on the free seat beside Choso, you were careful with your choice of words. You didn't want to dig the hole any deeper. Making yourself comfortable, you set your bag away to the side and faced him.

Choso's voice was more soft, and it wasn't as stern to when he was talking to his coach. "..I just don't approve of how I'm performing lately."

Personally, you didn't know much about ice hockey. Nor did you store any valuable advice for it in your brain. It pained you to think that if you were to give him advice, you'd sound like a typical high school guidance counselor.

"Oh, well um.." You purse your lips, trying to come up with something to say. "Is it because you're.. stressed?" Still unsure of what to do, your hand slowly makes its way onto the flat of his back; slowly rubbing shapes all over to comfort him.

"Probably." Although his voice was now mellow, Choso's replies were becoming short and quick. You were afraid that this talking out was of no use to him.

Your hand stops its movements, "..Should you do something about it? Like let it out?", Choso lifts his head up, turning to you. A gulp forces down your throat at how intense he was eyeing you, your own eyes unable to hold contact.

Choso blinks, head turning away once again to rest his chin on his palm. "..I don't know how." That was his problem, Choso wasn't good at letting out his emotions. He usually bottled them up, and solved his personal problems on his own— you could almost refer to him as a stoic being.

Clearing your throat, you bite your lower lip to try and think of something. You gave him the advice, but you didn't know the method yourself. This is why I could never be a therapist.

You mentally curse at yourself, trying to come up with a suggestion that isn't so cheesy like, do what you love to do!

"..I don't know either.. Me- I guess?" A worried expression washes over your face, a mazed Choso turning his head to you for the second time.

A perplexed, questioning noise came stirred up in him. "Huh? What do you mean?"

Eyes fluttering, you were unable to provide him with another answer. What did you mean by, 'me'? Was it just another one of those moments where you let your mouth speak before you think? "..You could let it out.. on me?"

Chosos demeanor had altered, his chin peeling away from the warmth of his palm. His body sat upright as he looked at you, his lips slightly parted. You couldn't tell if he was mortified or enthralled; and you were almost begging for him to say something.

He closes his mouth and swallows some spit to nourish his dried out throat, before standing up in front of you. You feel as if your beating heart were to take over your entire body and head any second now. A lingering tension in the air so thick— not even a lumberjack could saw through it.

Choso's eyes surveying you from top to bottom, studying the features on your face— his thumb swipes across your cheek in a tender, reassuring matter. He was grateful of your offer, but he just couldn't bring himself to directly accept it.

Choso's hand slowly moves down your face, the tip of his thumb gently pressing down on your lower lip. "..You look good in our jersey," His thumb forces the rest of its way into your mouth, "..but even better if it was my own." Was this a code phrase for, 'I need to fuck you, and I need to fuck you now?' His thoughts drifted off to filthy things—like imagining himself rutting into you in his own, bespoke jersey, 'Kamo' in a dirty gold written on your back as you take him whole like a good girl.

Your breath hitches, his finger gliding over the surface of your tongue before he decides to pull it back out. Choso starts to take off the gear on his upper half, both the body pads and jersey.

It was difficult enough to keep your eyes off the now, half naked Choso in front of you. His body muscular and perfectly carved from all of the work he's been putting in for preparation, Choso was more than pleasing to look at. He tosses his jersey and gear beside you, his hands grabbing onto the flesh of your waist.

Lifting you from the seat, you wrap your legs around his torso, lips desperately locking onto each other as he switched positions. The two of you now sitting back down on the seat.

Short mewls and gasps for air leave your mouth as you started to pull your top over your head; Choso's hands roaming all over the surface of your ass. Your hands travel down his chest, your finger tips tracing over his abs painfully slow. Tongues tangling, Choso swallowing any moan he could get from you, especially after the distressingly slow period of yearning for one another. It felt like a reward.

Being the skilled man he is, his fingertips undo the clasp of your bra effortlessly. Groaning in satisfaction, eyes closed and sucking; a free hand fondling with the other.

You claw your fingers through his hair, quietly moaning as he hungrily latched onto your nipple. Arching against his bare skin, you ached to keep him close, and possibly closer. Amidst the sucking, Choso reaches for his jersey beside him, gesturing you to put it over your head. He fulfilled his wish. You proudly raise your arms up, feeling the fabric graze against your skin. It was quite massive on you, hence himself being twice your size.

Impatient, your curious hands wander off to the waistband of his pants; his safety gear already being off had made it easier. Reaching down and past his skin tight shorts, a thought evoking in you causing your hand to withdraw.

"..W-wait," You pant, "What about everyone out there?" You couldn't help but worry about those outside who would start to get suspicious. You knew how much this mattered to him.

Choso rolls his eyes. "I don't really care, they're assholes anyway. Let them wait." His lips only make its way back onto the skin of your neck, warm breath fanning down your sternum. He didn't care if everyone else were to wait outside. He had been waiting for this moment, dreaming about it - and would do anything to not miss it.

Using two hands, you possessively grab onto his jaw to keep him closer, Choso's hands cheekily moving up inside the jersey and cupping onto both of your tits. He really loves them, doesn't he?

Pulling away for another breath your lips miss his already. You hop off his lap, hastily unbuttoning and kicking off your jeans. They fly away to the other side of the locker room, Choso pulling you back into his embarace. But this time, you were facing the other way.

His fingers tug onto the hem of your panties, pulling them back until they snapped against your skin; the stinging sound echoing throughout the room.

You intently watch yourself in the full length mirror across from you two, Choso using his hands to guide your legs open; his head falling onto the crook of your neck.

Choso's hand slowly made its way down to the your panties, his fingertips moving the fabric to the side. Toying with your folds, taking his sweet time. His delicate, addicting touch giving you shivers all over. You close your eyes to indulge in the ecstasy of this moment; scolding yourself for not doing this with him any sooner.

His same fingertips circle your clit, the speed of his movements fluctuating; which resulted in you grabbing onto his bicep, your body sinking down into his lap. Choso watches you break into pieces under his touch, how you repeatedly tap on his arm- asking for leniency.

Choso leans down to your ear, his throaty voice almost sounding like he's purring. “Just relax for me, I can feel you’re too tensed up.” Wasn’t it supposed to be me who gives him advice? Why is it that the roles have reversed?

The back of your head presses deeply into his chest, Choso bringing retrieving fingers give them a generous suck before pushing them into you. His fingers curl up inside, working them in a motion that emits a squelching noise.

“C-Choso, it’s too much- please,” A whimper crawls out of your throat, the man above you cooing and hushing you.

Your hair raising pleas being the catalyst for him only wanting to do more than he already is. His middle finger taps and teases and your bundle of nerves, his strength making your tug on his wrist pointless. “..Shh, you don’t want them to hear, do you?”

You frantically shake your head from side to side, Choso grinning against the top of your head as he had you wrapped around his finger. Cock straining against his shorts, he would take a photo to make this memory last.

His gestures come to a halt and you whine, Choso had forbidden you from orgasming. "Choso!" You hiss as he glues his hands to your hips, twirling you around against the seat.

Mindfully pressing onto the flat of your lower back, he bends you forward; in need of support, your hands reached for the wooden slabs that divided the seats. His strong hands rip your underwear into fragments off your body, Choso sneering at you nagging him.

His actions in no rush, the same hands that were cupping your pussy now feeling down your back, Choso sheepishly grinning at this fresh new view, a degree of gratification fills him for the hundredth time at the sight of 'Kamo' and '12' plastered on your back.

You reach behind you, barely tapping your fingers on Choso's pelvis to grab his attention. He leans down to hear what you had to say, the imprint of his cock imprisoned by his shorts pressed against your bare pussy.

“..Let it all out, I promise I’ll be okay.” Your hand snaked behind his head, fingers combing through his hair one last time. His body heat glossed over your behind, a position so intimate.“Just tell me if I’m hurting you, alright?”

Nodding in approval, Choso withdraws into his old position. Grabbing for his girthy cock out of his shorts, he groans as he jerks it ever so slightly. Forming an orb of spit on his tongue, letting it fall directly onto his length. He doesn't waste anymore time to slide it in, the objective of not hurting you still at the back of his mind.

You let out a long, awaited whimper that broke out into a pained sniffle, his entire length stretching you out. Your anchoring onto the wooden panels only grew stronger, Choso stilling in you for a few moments. The two of you create a symphony of guilty satisfaction, Choso himself unable to process that you let him inside of you; luckiest man in the world, he thought.

His grip on the plush of your waist transition into a soothing massage, “..Are you okay?” Concerned, he regards your strained noises.

Tears well up in your eyes, Choso rubbing his hands up and down your back. “..I-I’m fine.” You replied, managing to form some words. Even though it hurts, you didn't want him to stop. You wanted this as much as he did. He inhales deeply, grunting as his hips stroked into you slow and deep. He took you in like a work of art, savoring every minute, second with you.

“Fuck, Choso- just go faster will you? I know you want to.” You choke out, words dying in your throat. Choso obeying the green llight, you felt him grab and twist onto the fabric of the jersey behind you, his hips snapping into you at a faster pace.

A cacophony of skin slapping and moaning echoed throughout the room, Choso brings his hand down to toy with your clit; heightening your stimulation. Your entire body jolting with each of his thrusts, his little praises like 'good girl', and 'you're taking me so well' making your sex pool like mad.

Broken and choppy curses slip past your wet llips, Choso letting go of the jersey and fixing his grip on your scalp, pulling your head back towards him.

His hand sneaks underneath your chin, forcing you to maintain eye contact as you furrow your brows up at him. Your mouth stays wide open, moans no longer heard coming out from it. "Look at me baby," lids shut at the colossal pleasure, Choso needs not to repeat himself; but he does. "I said, look at me," Hauling your eyelids up, a vision of Choso glaring down at you from above— he wasn't the same person as the one half an hour ago.

Choso drops yet another ball of spit into your mouth, patting on the bottom of your chin telling you to shut and swallow, letting out a throaty sound in approval.

Clawing his fingers back into your scalp, he pushes your head back down. His leg lands onto the seat beside you, his thrusts brutally drilling into you deeper than before; Choso definitely rearranging your guts. You let him use you, so he did exactly that. Hell- if you two had a bed, just make sure you have enough saved for a new one the next day.

Makeup was unfortunately ruined from tears and spit, your hair no longer in perfect style from all the grabbing. His heavy balls relentlessly slapped against your clit, Choso huffing quietly.

He takes a hold of your two wrists, prying you from the comfort of the seat and commanding you to stand. Hypnotised, you watched everything unfold; Choso still holding onto your arms behind you as he continued to rut into your hole like a mad man.

Your cheeks were stained with tears, all sorts of unimaginable feelings stirring in the pool of your stomach; Choso already grows bored of the position. He swiftly lides you off his cock, turning you around for the fifth time today so he could see your beautiful face one more time.

Unsure of what was to happen next, you tiringly wrap both of your hands around his neck as he cupped onto the surface of your ass, lifting you up and sinking you down onto his cock. Your head rests against his chest in exhaustion, Choso’s anchored grip slowly loosening, choosing to move into the inside of your legs. Short paced breaths and eyes shutting at the new sensation of him fucking up into you. It was light work to him, carrying you was no problem at all.

Pushing both of you against a nearby wall, your back almost slid up and down the cold panels as Choso grew feral, his cock bullying but thoughtfully kissing your cervix at this unforgiving pace.

You fail to keep your eyes open, body taken over by bliss as he bottoms into you, convinced you had lost your voice. Choso could feel your silky juices move down his shaft, walls constantly clenching around around him.

“Don’t you dare close those eyes,” Choso orders, your hands hysterically tapping onto his shoulders to let him know you were going to snap. Your face winced in pain, you knew that you were going to have a hard time walking for the next week or two.

“..C-Choso,” you choke out, a threshold about to be met as the unfamiliar coil in your stomach urges to let loose.

His thrusts deepening to push you over the edge, cock sloppily moving in and out of your hole; his entire length coated with you.

“Just let it out— let it out.” he desperately whimpered, your mouth forming an ‘o’. His words like a spell, something that will haunt you for days coming. Choso’s eyes faux-sympathetically looking into yours that were blinking like mad as he felt your legs shiver in his grasp.

You shatter and cry at the orgasm that washed over you, bringing yourself to look at his cock withdrawing from your puffy, used cunt. Choso's jaw clenched, beads of white endlessly form at his tip, his balls twitching at the same time your gummy walls pulsed and throbbed around him.

He doesn’t let go of you, bodies still overheating and glistening from sweat. Instead he carries you back to the seats, sitting you down like a fragile porcelain doll. “My legs,” your voice raspy from the endless moaning, “..they’re so sore.”

Choso leans in for a meaningful kiss, your cock-dazed smile forming against his lips. His hands kneading your thighs. The locker room smelled of filthy, sinful sex—but that will just air out in no time. “..You need me to walk you out?”

“Choso, you can’t. There are cameras everywhere.” You grab your purse off the ground, in search of your phone. Almost forty five minutes have passed, your eyes widening. “Huh?! How long have I been gone for?"

He attempts to wipe the stained carpets, a faint white still engraved. Atleast he tried. “Pussy too good I forgot where I was, I’m not gonna lie.”

“Not funny, Choso. I need to get back to your brother!” Scurrying around the room, you pick your jeans off the ground, Choso whistling behind you causing you to turn your head,

“..Guess these aren’t of use to you anymore?” He holds the fragments of your panties up, torn to pieces, the dismaying mempry angering you as you were reminded of it for the second time.

You snap at him, Choso not taking any inch of you seriously. I mean, he literally had you whimpering, fucked you in his jersey and melting under his touch less than five minutes ago. “You fucking owe me a new pair.”

“I’ll buy you a hundred.”

You hurry out into the lobby, looking around for Yuji. Not having time to fix your hair, you almost scream as you walked past a reflection of yourself, mortified at how you looked. It’s okay… he wouldn’t suspect anything, right?

A familiar coral haired person was lounging at the sofas down the end, of course that had to be him. “Y-Yuji? is that you?” The head turning to your direction, it definitely was him; his eyes were shocked to still see you alive and standing before him.

You sit on the free armchair beside him, “..I’m so sorry, something just.. happened.” Nervously smiling, you wipe the residues of dried spit off your chin, your head stuck in one direction to avoid looking at Yuji in the face. Airing yourself with an invisible fan, you look away in all sorts of directions.

“It’s cool, the game got cancelled anyways- and I got my hotdogs.” He points to the four empty wrappers on the table in front of him. Yuji leans back against the sofa.

“..Uh— ..Is that, Choso's jersey?"

Fuck.

⊹ ࣪ ˖ ⤳ © luvwestwood ‘24 all works are owned by me, and originally come from my own head. please do not re-post on a third party platform without my permission!

⊹ ࣪ ˖ ⤳ as always, thank you for the love on each and every one of my posts! it means the world to me, ily guys sm!!🎀🩷

[luvwestwood masterlist]

#choso kamo smut #choso smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen #jjk smut #choso kamo x reader #choso x you #choso kamo #choso x reader #jujutsu kaisen choso

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adaginy · 3 months

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The Big Guide to Humans: Language

Most humans use their lungs, mouths, and larynx (a small organ between them colloquially called the "voice box") to produce audible language. There are also "signed" languages, in which the positions and motions of fingers, hands, and arms are used in place of audible language, primarily for communication with those lacking a sense of hearing or ability to use their mouths or larynx, but also in places where silence is required. There are also languages of whistling, a high-pitched noise made with the lips (the mobile edges of their mouths). Terra has thousands of languages, many of them incredibly complex and precise. Despite this, humans rarely use translation docks with each other, preferring to find a language they have in common. Most humans can use at least two Terran languages. They are likely to speak (or sign or whistle) a native language and are expected to speak or sign one or more Terran-Common languages (see human history for how Terran-Common languages spread). They may also be able to use languages of other regions as needed for trade, diplomacy, or curiosity. Human languages additionally have features called "accents" and "dialects." What makes something an accent, a dialect, or a separate language is ostensibly a spectrum of how different they are... but in practice some accents are not mutually intelligible* with each other while some languages are, and what is a "dialect" as opposed to one or the other may be political rather than practical: We asked human language-experts about this and the answer given by several of them** was "A language is a dialect with an army and a navy" (two types of human military). As a matter of practicality, translation docks allow for translation into and out of most dialects if the dialect (or accent) is, functionally, a separate language. This sometimes caused problems in comparatively early human space-history for those political reasons, but Terran politics has become more cooperative over time. Most human languages, particularly spoken ones, also have a written form. There are far fewer writing styles than languages. For example, many languages, including multiple Terran-Common languages, use what is known as the "Roman alphabet," named for a distantly historical military (see human history, again). In an alphabet, sounds are represented by marks or combinations of marks, and by knowing the sounds one knows what the line of marks would read if spoken. There are also syllabaries, in which the marks represent sets of sounds, and logographic systems, in which complex marks represent ideas. Some languages use combinations thereof. While humans generally cannot write as fast as they speak, many can read far faster than a human can speak, allowing for the rapid absorption of information.

Most humans are innately "good at" language, even if they do not believe they are. (This is especially true with human children.) If your language is adequately perceptible to humans, expect that over time they will learn at least a little bit of it. If your language is audible to them (or signed in a way that can be approximated), expect that they will find a way to produce it and use your own language to speak with you. They feel this is polite and friendly, although they understand that most non-Terrans are unlikely to learn and use their languages in return. * Many human languages share a "root" language, and the languages have spread and separated in ways akin to evolution. Similarly to how closely-related species can sometimes hybridize, a speaker of one language may be able to understand, with some difficulty, a speaker of a closely-related language. **see human hive mind debate

#addie writes #humans are space orcs #big guide to humans #language

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roxineedstosleep · 3 months

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Could you do a snippet for yandere platonic Batfam where reader accidentally gets hurt and is able to hide it for a few days until someone (May be Dick?) finds it and asks / gets upset about it? Love your writing!!! ♥️♥️♥️♥️

Hi there!!!

First of all: Thank you sweetie!

It's been a while since I've written, mostly because of the university, I'm about to graduate and I'm crazy because I'm approaching my final exams (I even have to defend my research work to be able to get my bachelor's degree)!

But, I got to thinking a bit about what you have written above… and even more so because I myself am a little bit crashed after my last film shoot for my final year of my degree. And can I just say that being in a bad way and having to hide it is terrible.

So… here goes!

(I'm sorry if I sound a bit comical in this writing, but I think the best way to get over something is to laugh at yourself a bit so you don't think about the pain too much; I hope you enjoy it anyway.)

Disclaimer: I don't know if you've noticed, but English is not my native/mother tongue. Occasionally, when I think too much, I write them in my language and then translate it in a trusted translator. So, if there's a grammatical problem or a strange term, it's the translator's fault.

Let's face it… having a large family is terribly exhausting.

It's never quiet enough, everyone is in everyone else's business, you can't leave your favorite mermelade in the fridge for less than a day. Someone is always occupying the bathroom or using your favorite shampoo or watching something on TV at too much volume and someone is probably occupying your bed at nap time.

Did I mention about meddling too much in other people's business? Yes? Well… triple it.

Having multiple siblings was new.

Having multiple siblings, a father and a butler/grandfather isn't exactly bread and butter either.

It wouldn't be so bad to belong to a large and numerous one if it was your blood family and you had lived with them all your life. I mean, sometimes blood is too thick and you have no choice but to learn to love them or just be nice to each other.

Like I said, it wouldn't be so bad if they were really your family.

But the Waynes were not your family. Not distant relatives or anything like that.

You were just living your life, as quietly as possible… and poof!

New room, new butler/grandfather, pets beyond belief, 4 new male siblings and a father with serious emotional constipation issues. And, to add more salt to your wound…. all have serious abandonment issues and death-related trauma.

After several escape attempts, sleep strikes, hunger strikes and any other kind of protest that an anarchist could be proud of… you realized that it was simply impossible to get out of this without risking the path of death.

Which, to top it all off, was also unreliable because apparently your older brother Jason had revived as well as another of your siblings. So no, dying was also not a viable option to which one could resort in the worst case scenario.

What to do?

Well, not much. Trying not to die of suffocation of affection or finding a way to have privacy while going to the bathroom just seemed to be the best survival tools you could resort to.

What does that entail?

It implies that Tim was going to give you hours and hours of lectures on his latest discovery of a case, even if you don't understand half the things he's told you or mentioned at all.

Richard and Damian trying to teach you new tricks almost every second, taking you to the Zoo or not leaving you alone to go to the bathroom.

That Jason, oh holy cow he is the only one more relaxed, takes you with him on his motorcycle to eat ice cream and to the public library. Without being able to scape, because it seems that you have a kind of GPS inserted in the bone marrow.

(Sometimes you don't know if it's true or not, but sometimes you also felt pain between your bones, almost during the cold seasons, and you didn't want to burst your poor little head thinking of different viable possibilities knowing them. No scars, no remembering anythins about any surgery).

Have a grandfather who will not hesitate to make you cookies, your favorite foods whenever you want … without leaving you aside at any time.

Plus a terribly quiet father, who if he can will carry you for as long as you spend time together, won't let you near the secret basement and enjoys being in the same room with you.

Do you see any privacy in this?

No, because even at the bathroom door would be the pets trying to get in and see you for themselves while you want to do your business.

The worst of that? Titus always judge you when you close the curtains.

As I mentioned and it was clear: Having a large family implies little privacy… Having a large, obsessive family means NO privacy.

So, knowing that you have over 50 nanochips tracking in all your clothes, two security monitors embedded - God knows how - in your body (monitors that only tell you if you are in designated safe place), 20 high definition surveillance cameras in every room and a Great Dane chasing you like a chick …. How the heck do you fall down the stairs and hit your pelvic bone without anyone noticing?

No kidding, how?

And if you had to blame someone for your fall… you'd totally blame Damian for it.

It's not that the kid pushed you down the stairs, but over time he had tamed himself into various things and relaxed into looking his age. You know!!! He started acting like a normal teenager!

What do Damian's kids do at his age? Well, they leave things lying around and have messing around them when they can, of course they do!

You just wanted some yogurt with orange marmalade. Maybe some oatmeal cookies. Alfred had left it for you in the fridge when he noticed you'd been watching video tutorials on homemade marmalade for hours. Who were you to deny such a gesture of generosity?

I mean, Alfred was the one who allowed you to hide in the attic for hours on end so you could have some time to yourself.

And how did it end? You, slipping down the main stairs of the old Wayne mansion, down a nicely polished wooden staircase, rolling all the way down (which is no small flight of stairs, it should be noted) to the bottom of the first floor.

Now, lying on the ground is not so bad in itself. What is bad is not being able to feel your legs and still not being able to understand how you manage to tidy up your neural wiring so that your legs can still move on their own and go to the kitchen to rescue all the delicacies Alfred left you in time.

And it's a good thing you managed to do it… because within seconds Bart had rushed in to ransack the fridge and the fruit basket.

But that's not the point.

The important thing is that this time you managed, I insist a little on the feat of action, to climb up to your room and not notice how you couldn't really feel your legs.

You ate, you lay down… and to your bad or good luck, you couldn't get up …. and without anyone noticing there was an emergency and everyone went out to sort it out.

Weak limbs, limited movement and you don't want to mention the embarrassing actions you did in order to go to the toilet.

It's not like you hid it either, I mean, there was no one who could even notice because they weren't entirely available to watch you. Nor is it that you would have run away, otherwise they would have been at your side in less than a second.

The detail, as they insist, is that you had probably bruised your back badly and your body was now taxing you extra for your food craving.

I insist, you did not hide anything.

But still, when you're found completely itchy on the floor, ridiculously trying to run away in the direction of the bathroom… that's when everyone really goes crazy.

First, having to carry you and not dying of embarrassment when you notice that Bruce definitely doesn't give a damn about having to carry you to the bathroom and do almost everything for you.

Or having Dick and Jason carry you and fit you into some kind of weird medical scanner they have in the cave.

Or that Tim keeps track of your periods, types of meds you take and, for fuck's sake, knows how the fuck to inject something into your spine.

Or that Damian had the gall to look a little embarrassed when he heard that a pair of boxers lying outside the laundry basket was to blame for all this.

NO matter.

At the end of the day they heal you, pamper you, leave you alone when you need to take a nap and figure out a way to fix it without looking like complete maniacs who built some kind of internal plumbing that sucks up the dirty laundry and throws it straight into the washing machine.

Like the time they didn't look like maniacs by sanding all the edges of the tables and nightstands.

Or the time they bought a whole brand of sanitary towels when they realised that not all women use tampons.

Don't worry, they're looking out for you… even if they look like deranged Arkhan freaks in the process.

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featherquillpen · 1 year

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Gained in Translation

I speak four languages (at varying degrees of fluency) and do translation both for smooth and peaceable family reunions and for fun, with works of literature I enjoy. It's practically a truism at this point that meaning gets lost in translation; in fact, I'm currently reading an excellent book, Babel by R.F. Kuang, in which there is magic powered by the meaning lost in translation. But a topic I hardly ever hear anyone discuss is how meaning can be gained in translation.

Example 1: References

A type of meaning that can be gained in translation is that when you translate from language A to B, you can make references to other texts in language B that the person who wrote the original in language A wouldn't have been aware of. Here is an example from a translation I did of a Pablo Neruda poem:

Yo te recordaba con el alma apretada

de esa tristeza que tú me conoces.

I remembered you with my soul gripped

by the tragic ordeal of being known by you.

These lines in Spanish reminded me a lot of the meme based on the viral New York Times article about how you need to submit to the mortifying ordeal of being known in order to reap the rewards of being loved. So I decided to make a subtle reference to that quote in the way I phrased the English translation. This meaning, of course, doesn't exist in the original Spanish; I added it in.

Example 2: Meaningful Distinctions

Meaning is often gained in translation because the target language makes a distinction that the source language does not. The translator has to choose one side of that distinction, and so meaning is gained.

Here is an example from the Spanish localization of the Japanese RPG Fire Emblem: Three Houses. There are two unlockable scenes in which the character Hubert is given a gift as a romantic gesture. Now, I don't speak Japanese, but through reading the analyses and translations done by Japanese speakers, and by checking for consistency in the kanji, I can see that the same word for "gift" seems to be used throughout these scenes. However, in Spanish, there are multiple words for "gift" with rather different connotations, which becomes relevant in the localization.

In Spanish, there is no generic word for "gift" that applies in every situation. There is a distinction made between gifts that are personal, between people who care about each other, and gifts between people who are not close, such as charitable gifts and formal gifts given to a diplomat. The translators of the game had to choose which of these words to use in the Spanish, and they used the distinction to add some very interesting meaning to these romantic scenes.

In each scene, what happens is that Hubert notices the person has a gift and comments on it, thinking it's for somebody else. In these lines, in Spanish, Hubert uses the personal intimate word for gift. Then, when he finds out the gift is for him, and reacts very awkwardly, he switches to a formal word for gift, creating an emotional distance between himself and the romantic token. This is excellent characterization and adds a layer of meaning in translation.

Example 3: Meaningful Ambiguity

Sometimes, the opposite phenomenon occurs, where the target language does not make a distinction that the source language does, and that ambiguity or vagueness adds something to the translation.

I have a Finnish friend who has told me that fiction that plays with gender is often more meaningful for him in Finnish translation than in the source language, because Finnish does not have gendered third person pronouns. Where books like The Left Hand of Darkness or Ancillary Justice have to make a conscious decision about which gendered pronoun to use for characters that fall outside the Western gender binary (The Left Hand of Darkness uses "he" and Ancillary Justice uses "she"), the Finnish translations can just use the default neutral pronoun they use for everyone, and never have to resolve that ambiguity in any direction. My friend has told me that there are some books about non-gender-normative characters that he wishes he'd read in Finnish instead of English because the experience would have felt more authentic in some ways.

What It Means

The reason why I bring all of this up is that the concept of meaning lost in translation is tied to the idea of translation as an act of violence. Indeed, there is a saying in Italian, "Traduttore, traditore," which means "Translator, traitor." I agree that translation can definitely be an act of violence that destroys the intended meaning of a text and warps it to suit the needs of the speakers of the target language. But when we focus only on what is lost in translation, at the expense of what is gained in translation, then we deny that translation can be an act of liberation and power.

I was raised in a bicultural household speaking both English and Spanish, and when I translate between these languages, it makes me feel empowered and proud of my heritage. It feels insulting to me to claim that when I translate, I can only ever deplete the meaning. That is not true. Every translation requires a translator, and we are more than thieves and traitors. We are more, even, than archivists, trying to minimize loss and decay as much as possible. We are creatives and inventors who can add something beautiful and meaningful to the text via our translations.

#translation #on writing

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simblr-question-of-the-day · 4 days

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Introduction

Hi! I'm an anonymous asker who sometimes sends fellow simmers questions. "Simblr Question of the Day" is something I saw going on around September '23 and I wanted to revive this "trend"! After a bit, some simmers suggested a SQOTD blog, to which I agreed and finally did it! I can broaden my asking horizons to blogs w/o anons now :)

^ Due to time, I can only post questions, and not send asks, I'm very very very sorry :(

I'm going to continue preserving my anonymity, but I'd like to share some basics about me ! ~

You can call me squat or squatty! A name I chose based on the way I pronounce "SQOTD," You can also call me SQOTD Anon! My timezone is ( PST ) - I like the colors yellow and pink/red, I've been playing the sims since I was 5 and I like to read and write :)

And below the cut will include a little rundown of how I will run this blog and navigation hashtags ~

- I want to start off by saying that while I do play TS4, I'm going to try and keep my SQOTDs all-sim-games-friendly, so if you play TS3, 2 or 1 and want to answer, go right ahead! Feel free to "translate" them for older games if you want to answer and it seems too "Sims-4-oriented" - Also! You can absolutely answer: 1. older SQOTDs 2. a SQOTD multiple times or 3. a SQOTD that isn't prompted by an ask while this is a ~daily questions blog~, you can also consider it a questions archive where you can pull any question out and answer it whenever and however many times you want to :) -I will queue a question once a day around 4am-5am PST, I will try to vary the type of questions (builds/renders/cas/sims/ocs). I also do around 3-4 tzrs per SQOTD. -I will also send a SQOTD to a random 5-10 Simblrs either around 4-5 AM or somewhere in the same day in my time (I forewarn this in the chance that I'm asleep around 4-5 AM) - and yes, I will make sure that it's different Simblrs everyday :) -Interact with these posts in anyway you prefer: reblog, reply or a separate post! (make sure to tag me ^^) -I'm going to attempt to reblog as many answers as possible, but I do want to avoid spamming dashes, so not always, but I will occasionally reblog ^o^ -I FULLY encourage YOU to continue sending asks with SQOTDs (crediting/tagging me is optional). I don't expect every simblr to know about this blog and SQOTD is intended to be a community thing, so while this blog will extend SQOTD reach, asks will spread even further -If you have your own SQOTD, you can send me an ask with your question and I will answer it prompting anyone of Simblr to answer it! -Since this isn't my main blog, I won't be following anyone back, but I will always check this blog at least twice or thrice a day and check my notifs and engage with the community as much as possible :)

Navigation

〘 Main Tags -

╭

| - SQOTD, Simblr question of the day, Squat's TXT.Files, Squat's reblogs

╰

〘 Question Tags -

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| - Sim/OC Questions, Build Questions, Gameplay Questions, Render Questions, CAS Questions

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↳ I am very open to critique, suggestions and feedback, feel free to send me these messages via ask or DMs :)

#feels good getting this out! Thank you for the feedback and thank you for your SQOTD answers! I love reading them so much!#simblr question of the day #SQOTD #SQOTD anon #new simblr alert #navigation #introduction #simblr #ts4 #ts4 simblr #sims 4 #sims 4 simblr #the sims 4

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yuurei20 · 6 months

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Hi! I've seen some posts going around about Epel's accent and Vil correcting him. From what I gathered Epel has a pretty farmland accent that can be basically indecipherable so Vil being hard on him for it is both 'this is kind of casual' and 'i have no idea what you're saying' but could still be kind of elitist/classist. But I see some people saying Vil is just correcting Epel because he's swearing a lot?

Thank you so much for this question! Reading through just the EN adaptation of Book 5, I think I can understand why people might be annoyed by Vil’s wording: in English, he says outright that Epel should “speak properly,” as if his natural dialect is somehow improper and objectively “wrong.”

But his original line is closer to, “Speak more politely”! (The translations in these images are just more literal rewordings of the original dialogue, not meant to be corrections or improvements over EN’s localization)

I think the game was aware of the risk it was taking by having Vil give such an order, which is why it has Epel immediately jump to that assumption himself, so that Vil can explain it is not Epel’s hometown pride he has an issue with, but rather the outdated mindset that comes with it.

While softened on EN, Epel is quite misogynistic in the original game. He also repeats the same insult three times, possibly as an example of his limited vocabulary, which is another of Vil’s projects.

While Epel does say that Vil has told him not to use the accent specifically, Vil explains that he just wants him to consider the time, place and occasion for it.

Question: But then why does Vil order him to drop the accent entirely if the only problem is that he’s speaking rudely? Surely he can just speak politely while keeping his accent?

Answer: There is another layer to this that is more difficult to explain in English, but I shall try!

The Japanese language has multiple verb forms that change depending upon who you’re talking to at the time. “Meshiagaru,” “taberu” and “kuu” are three different ways to say “eat,” for example, depending on how polite you want to be.

In the beach scene (and anywhere we get his Harveston dialect), Epel immediately shifts into casual/impolite verb forms.

I searched for the most formal interaction involving characters speaking in the Harveston dialect that I could find (where the mayor is apologizing to Marja), and even there, the character was using casual/informal verb forms.

So that is what Vil is actually getting at: he wants Epel to use polite speech around his senpai and teachers, but Epel’s original dialect might just not adhere to that system.

The Harveston dialect clearly has its own ways to denote politeness, which must make sense when you’re there, but outside of Harveston what is a harmless and natural way of speaking becomes offensive from the perspective of everyone else (when Marja adapts her speaking patterns so that the visiting NRC students can understand her, she uses polite forms).

Not able to have a student from his dorm obliviously insulting everyone around him through his verb forms, Vil bans Epel’s accent entirely, presumably so that Epel can grow more accustomed to interacting with people from other countries and then learn to judge for himself the times, places and occasions outside of Harveston where that degree of informality is appropriate :>

(Omake: I conferred with an American friend who told me it sounds like this is the opposite of how things are in the US, where sometimes it is assumed that people from more rural communities use more polite speech (using "sir" and ma'am") than people in cities, so they visit cities and are surprised by forms are expression that are considered rude where they come from. This is the same, but backwards! Epel is going from a laidback rural village to a more populated location where polite speech is expected of everyone, and is experiencing culture shock as a result.)

#anon #twisted wonderland #Epel Felmier #Vil Schoenheit

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yridenergyridenergy · 3 months

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Burrn! Japan vol. 23 Individual Interview Translation Notes

Kyo's favourite movies are those that leave a really bad aftertaste, which he just can't watch more than once or twice. Besides Holy Mountain, some of his highlights have been Pearl, MEN and Midsommar. Ideally, he'd love to replicate this in a live show: as a fan, you would be so shocked and blinded by tears that you couldn't even see Kyo. He thinks that Dir en grey is more and more working toward this kind of mission. Kyo would also love to perform in Las Vegas' SPHERE venue, with this type of overwhelming shock.

If he had to make a movie, it would also be one that leaves a bad aftertaste and which nobody could sanely watch more than twice, but since he would have to do multiple reviews as the director, it won't happen.

Kyo finally explained the focus on Uroboros more: he feels that Dir en grey was able to build something more from this point onward. The worldview started with Withering to death. too, but the base was set more firmly with Uroboros.

For Kyo, the inclusion of Oboro is what totally changes a setlist. He feels that it's a bottomless pit, like he's cutting deeper and deeper into a wound. For Die, The World of Mercy is the song that can make a whole difference in a setlist, because of the change of tempo in the middle.

Die described that when they try to compose songs, sometimes, after 25 years, they can have the impression that the melody's already been done before. But then, let's say Kyo adds his singing on top of it, and it goes through the filters of the other members too, and in the end, Die feels like: "Wow, it's something totally different now!"

Die doesn't usually work on melodies in his free time. The ideas come to him the most when there is a concrete release decided and deadlines, even if he doesn't like deadlines.

Regarding the upcoming European tour, Die reflects that Withering to death. was the first time that they toured in Europe, and in general they have never done "concept tours" overseas. He feels that the band will be able to do things in 2024 that they weren't able to do back then.

Apparently Dir en grey is thinking of celebrating the 30th anniversary since their formation!! And they are wondering whether to release the next album before that or around the same time.

Kaoru mentioned that at first, only Acro no Oka and Zan were supposed to be recorded with Yoshiki in LA, but when they arrived, it was decided to add Yurameki. About Acro no Oka, Yoshiki commented that it was a concern because of the lack of "collision of sounds", whereas Zan was a problem of collision of sounds.

In Yurameki, apparently they recorded some strings separately and overlapped them in post-production because Yoshiki asked Kaoru to play something in a specific way that was impossible, because the string couldn't be held down simultaneously. They figured: "No one will notice."

This European tour was supposed to happen in 2022 to coincide with the band's 25th anniversary.

Shinya would have preferred to sleep until 4PM on the day of this interview. He also appreciated that the songs of Phalaris were introduced in three segments/tours, because he had trouble memorizing the structure of the songs. It would have been impossible for him to play all of the album's songs at once live.

His favourite kind of ending is when the show doesn't end with a bang, but that it instead leaves a lingering worldview, which was accomplished with Kamuy. His favourite part is when the curtain was lowered in front of the stage as soon as Kamuy started. Ideally, he would always just walk off the stage without throwing drumsticks or anything.

For the first time, the rehearsal for Tour23 Phalaris Final –the scent of a peaceful death- was not just [rhythm section] then [whole band]. At Die's suggestion, they had rhythm first, then the four musicians, and finally the whole band rehearsed together.

Shinya was ecstatic that his composition, Yurameki, was chosen for the major debut and that it was produced with Yoshiki. Ever since then, he felt like he could die happy, and all the way up until now, Shinya has continually felt like he could be content to die at any moment.

For ten years now, Shinya has wished to record simple drum melodies. Also, he thinks that he will struggle to re-learn how to play the Uroboros songs.

Toshiya reveals that the imagery projected on the curtain in the opening (during Otogi) and ending (during Kamuy) of the shows in Tour23 Phalaris Final –the scent of a peaceful death- were generated by AI.

It seems that a lot of people have commented that going to see Dir en grey is more like a spectacle than seeing a rock band's live performance.

Toshiya was initially opposed to the idea of re-recording the three singles of their major debut. He feels that old songs are out of their hands, and some things about them belong to the listeners and their past experiences of it. In other words, he is worried that re-recording could destroy something about the memories associated to the songs. In his view, it's better for the creators to re-imagine the songs, like they have done with their remakes so far. At the same time, in retrospection, Toshiya is glad that they decided to do it, because it made him realize that a lot has changed in 25 years, but a lot also hasn't changed, with the band.

#Dir en grey #interview #translation #magazine #burrn #volume 23 #Burrn! Japan #19990120 #Kyo #Die #Kaoru #Shinya #Toshiya #scans #scan #live #tour23 Phalaris Final -the scent of a peaceful death-#Phalaris

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hoe4sports · 1 month

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Caroline Graham Hansen | Discovering a new side (18++)

A/N: This is a mature +18 imagine. Do not read if you are under 18, easily triggered or in an unsafe place. The Spanish is taken directly from google translate, so do not judge the Spanish. You get the point.

TRIGGER WARNING: Semi angry, strap on, light spanking, riding, domination, mommy. All the warnings basically.

(IMAGINE STARTS UNDER GIF)

The referee blew the whistle signaling for the match to be over. The fans broke out it screams of Joy, and the home team was jumping together in a circle screaming about their victory. My girlfriend had just played a game against low ranked Scotland, and lost tremendously leaving their chances of the next World Cup in the trash. We both played on the national team; but i was currently not playing as my acl was causing me pain. Caroline would always take it very personally when Norway lost, and it didn’t help that she hadn’t been scoring goals with Barcelona lately either.

As the match was over some of the girls fell to the ground,. Aurora Mikalsen, Norway goalkeeper kicked the goal and chucked the ball out of sight. Everyone was finding ways to release their dissatisfaction, disappointment and imagining the dreaded headlines. Caroline was different. She would go quiet until she had processed what was wrong, and usually within a few hours she would be okay.

“Baby, come here” I said as I walked towards her on the field. She walked straight into me, and wrapped her arms around me for comfort. I looked up at the tall winger and she looked like she was dissociating. Dissociating was always her escape in times like this.

We walked into the warderobe where some of the girls were sobbing while others were trying to be as fast as possible. Gemma Grainger was Norway’s newest coach after the last coach had mentally ruined multiple of our star players. Gemma was a good woman and she was handed a national team that was a mess. “Girls, listen. We are allowed to feel sad right now. It’s okay, we need to process. Tomorrow, we start fresh. Our ranking has climbed from 12th best to 7th best. That’s something to be proud of. I want all of you, playing or not, to remember that you are the reason as to why we have skyrocketed the rankings.” she finished as the spirit in the group slightly brightened up.

As we got to the hotel, Caroline was watching the game on her phone. In a closer inspection, she was watching her mistakes over and over. When she finished, she jumped to the next game, watching all of her mistakes again and again and again. “Baby” I mumbled as I leaned towards the disappointed woman sitting in the chair by the desk looking more like an analyst than a player. “Maybe it’s time to put the phone away?” I suggested as I kissed the back of her neck lightly. No response. “Caz, how about some food?” I suggested as I kissed her cheek. “Caroline, perha-“ I started as she cut me off by turning around. “No Y/N, I need to figure out why I am not working!! I need to find a solution to this problem or I will end up never playing again!” She screamed as her eyes moved over to the phone again. I sighted, Caroline wasn’t one to yell and I had probably only heard her yell 2-3 times within the time we had been together. Strangely enough, I always felt a burning sensation between my legs as she showed her more, let’s say dominant side. That side only came out when she was angry and would yell. I decided to push my luck, and tried again. “Baby.. Let’s try to decided what to-“ I started as I once again was cut off by her turning the chair around to face me. “I said no, I don’t want too. Stop being so fucking annoying before..” she screamed, but stopped as her eyes got glued back to the screen to see herself appear in the picture. I wanted to rest my luck. I wanted us to have rough sex. To have her be dominant. Assertive. In charge. But she would always be careful and sweet, and I loved that. But sometimes..

“Baby, take it out on me please..” I whispered in her ear as I let out a quiet moan. She didn’t respond, but I could sense that she was tensing up. “Baby, use me, please.. I can take it, I can make it feel better..” I continued as I could see her focus become less and less sharp. “Will you please take it out on me, baby? I’ll be a good girl for you.. ” I whispered seductively while letting my hands slip her shoulders and under her shirt to reach for her breasts. She broke contact as she turned around and looked up at me. It was almost like her eyes had shifted to something darker, like her lust was pouring out of her eyes. Her breathing was heavier and I could tell that she was looking at my breasts. She was definitely a booby girl rather than booty. Lucky for me, as my boobs were bigger than the standard football player’s chest. I could tell that she was considering letting go, and I needed to act quick.

“Amor, por favor desquitate conmigo. Usa mi cuerpo, puedo soportarlo. Por favor, úsame hasta que te sientas mejor.” (Love, please take it out on me. Use my body, i can take it. Pretty please, use me until you feel better. )

Her eyes sharpened as she dropped her phone. “Como quieras princesa” (as you wish princess) she said as her voice sounded lower than before. She stood up from the desk chair, and with one motion; she picked me up and forced my legs around her waist with her hands resting on my ass.

“Seré muy bueno contigo, lo prometo.”(I'll be so good for you, i promise.) I whispered in her ear as I scratched her back with my nails. She let out a small moan, and laid me with my back facing down on the bed. She crawled over me, so that she was practically on top of me. I sent her my “fuck me” look and she sweared under her breath as her hands started exploring my waistline. She leaned down and kissed me softly before a grabbed her hair in a makeshift ponytail and tugged on it forcing a moan out of her lips.

“No princesa, ahora estoy a cargo” (No princess, i'm in charge now.) she said as she looked down on me forcing me to let go of her hair. I nodded, and she went back in for another kiss leaning herself on her toned tanned arms. She touched my lips with her tongue forcing it inside to dominate mine. I moaned softly into her mouth as I couldn’t simply get enough. This was all I had dreamed about for the last year, and finally she let her dominating nature out. I could feel her hand loosing the strings on my pants.

All of a sudden, she flipped me around on my belly and yanked the pants off of me. I gasped as my wet thong came into contact with the cold air. On my back, I had her name as I was still wearing her jersey from the game. She was massaging my ass violently as she moaned. “Fuck baby, my jersey.” She moaned as she tugged on the jersey. “Yes baby, I made sure to let everyone know that I belong to you” I said as I could feel her hand stroking the back of the jersey where her name was located.

“Eso es correcto. Todos ustedes me pertenecen, baby” (That's correct. All of you belong to me.) she said in a low voice as she started kissing my neck from behind while pulling on my hair. “Are you gonna be good?” she asked as she grabbed one of my boobsfrom behind forcing me to moan. “Yes, I’m gonna be so good. So good.” I obeyed as she pulled my hair tighter. “Let’s test just how good you are then, princesa.” she growled as she let go of my hair and body to stand up. She pulled me up from the bed and carried me to the desk, laying me with my ass over the desk.

Suddenly, her hand made contact with my ass. That itself was enough to send me over the edge. I moaned out loud as she grabbed my ass pulling it upwards towards her. “Be a good girl for me, and stay still.” She growled in my ear as she had me pulled back by my hair. Fuck, this was really going as I had hoped. I loved this new side of her leaving me wanting to obey everything she would request me to do.

I stayed still trying to move my hips in the hopes my red lacy thong would relieve me of some pressure. Caroline was rumbling around the room and I wanted so bad to turn around to see what she was doing, but I wanted to be good for her. I had imagined this the day I purchased a double sided strap on. The one for the giver was shorter and upwards, while the one for the receiver was longer and wider. Let’s just agree that I had a clear vision in mind when I purchased it a few months back.

I was standing bent over the desk as I could feel Caroline coming back for me. She smacked my ass again, and I moaned louder than ever before. “Oh, fuck baby, I need you” I whimpered in hopes of her long fingers making their appearance. Instead, I was surprised by the strap on I had purchased going full force inside my pussy from behind instantly hitting the sweet spot. “AH, fuck baby, yes please” I screamed out in pleasure as I held on to the desk. No time to adjust. I knew from the treatment on my ass that I was already close. “Fuck babygirl, you are taking it so well.” Caroline moaned out as stopped without any warning. She lifted one of my legs up on the chairs next to the desk. “My perfect girl, wearing red lacy underwear underneath my jersey for a whole day without letting me know” she whispered in my ear sending chills down my spine. Her hand was barely touching my folds through my panties making me desperate for her.

As I was about to whine, she went in with the strap at full force going even deeper than before. Her hips thrusting harder and deeper with every trust. I could feel the tension growing in my abdomen, and I instantly knew what was about to come. “Caz, I’m so close, I’m gonna cu-“ I started as I was cut of by my own orgasm making an entrance. She pulled out immediately.

“Te dije que te corrieras princesa o eras una chica mala?” (Did i tell you to cum princess, or were you a bad girl?) she growled as she turned me around and looked straight into my eyes. I couldn’t help myself but look at her soaked pussy with the double strap. “yo era una chica mala” (I was a bad girl) I replied with attitude forcing her eyes to widen as she let out a quiet moan.

She picked me up again, and practically threw me on the bed. She ripped off my tiny panties and I moaned as I could feel the cold air make contact with my throbbing pussy. As I was enjoying the cold sensation with my eyes closed, I hadn’t discovered that Caroline had positioned herself with her head between my legs. My eyes opened up as she entered my sensitive pussy with her tongue licking my folds and nibbling on my clit. “Ah, Caroline, more please” I moaned as I gripped the sheets while she continued exploring my insides. Her tongue started throbbing in and out of my walls. “AH, more daddy, more!” I screamed out in pleasure as she continued not realising what I had just said. She responded with her thumb rubbing my clit while her soft tongue pushed in and out of me. “Ah, baby, I’m gonna have to cum” I moaned as I arched my back. “Beg babygirl” she responded as I noticed that I was barely able to talk. “I can’t hear you” she repeated, and I moaned again. “Please, I need to cum. I have to cum, please let me cum in your mouth daddy.” I cried out as I grabbed her hair and tugged on it. “Do it for me baby” and with that I came hard, I squirted on her face and buckled my hips upwards. She grabbed my hips, and forced them down again as she glared at me. “MINE” she growled as she started licking up all my squirt.

When she had gotten every last drop, she laid down besides me and propped me on top of her. This was new. She looked into my eyes and brushed my hair behind my ear. “¿Cuánto puedes tomar antes de venir princesa?” (How much can you take before you cum princess) she whispered as I swallowed. “As much as you need me too.” I said as she kissed my head and dragged me out of bed. She put me on my knees as she stood with her strap levelled with my mouth. I looked up at her with the most seductive look that I could, and with that she took the strap and held it infront of my lips.

“Chupa la polla de daddy ahora, princesa. Muéstrame lo desesperada que estás por mí.” (Suck daddy’s cock now, princess. Show me how desperate you are for me.) She growled as she touched my lips with the tip of her cock. I didn’t even realise that I had called her daddy, I just obeyed. I opened my mouth and she put it in, gagging me as she held my hair and pounded it in my mouth. I sucked her off as she was eyeing me as I was gagging.

“Fuck baby, I’m so close” she stunned as she threw her head backwards. And I stopped. Her head flashed towards me and her eyes was even more lustful. “You need to be punished.” she moaned as she pulled me up on my feet by pulling my hair. She then picked me up as she sat herself on the bed and laid back. Leaving me sitting on top of her.

She grabbed the cock forcing her to moan as the giver cock moved with the receiver part. She rubbed the cock along my folds before inserting it. “Ride me, babygirl. Show me how it’s done. Let me cum first.” and I? I obeyed as I started bouncing on her cock giving friction to the part inside of her. She moaned loudly as her breathing was becoming heavier. I picked up the pace, and my boobs were now bouncing ruthlessly. She looked at me, and forced me to lay forwards so she could reach my boobs with her mouth while still riding her. She put my nipple in her mouth and used her other hand to massage the other boob.

I could see her starting to shiver meaning that she was close as I kept riding getting closer and closer to my own edge. “Ah, baby, yes, yes, don’t stop, be a good girl now, let daddy cum” she stunned as I continued. Her cries were stopped by herself moaning so loud that I was worried that the neighbours was gonna hear her. “Ah, fuck, yes!” I looked at her “I’m gonna cum, baby”. I said as I felt my insides tensing up again. “No, I’m gonna cum first. Keep going, baby.” She commanded and I swore I was about to have my eyes roll back into my head.

I was slowing the pace down as I was so close and so sensitive, but Caroline was in charge and she started bouncing her hips picking the pace up. “Oh my god!” I yelled as she thrusted deeper and deeper with ever move. She was working her hips in ways I had never imagined. “Say my name babygirl.” She commanded. “Ah, yes, yes , Caroline please, please let me come!” I screamed loudly as she moaned. “No” she growled, “the other name.” And then it clicked for me. “Yes, daddy, yes please let me cum!!” I screamed as she was shaking, trying to hold herself back from coming. “Please,” I screamed “only you can make me cum like this! Fuck, Caroline!” I screamed on the top of my lungs as I was a second away from cuming. “Cum for me princess” Caroline growled as i came all over her cock in sync with her orgasm. She slowly stopped thrusting by going slower and slower with every move until our synched orgasms were over. We passed out next to each other, and I couldn’t believe what had just happened.

I turned to face her, and noticed that she looked a little bit taken back by her newly discovered side. We were both pretty out of breath as we laid next to each other. We had talked about boundaries one time when she was drunk, and agreed on a colour system if we ever needed one. She was laying on her back, staring upwards. “Color?” I suggested. “Orange” she motioned back. I jumped up immediately, and helped her unbuckle. Orange was different to us then to others. We had traffic light systems for during and after sex. Green was no aftercare needed, Orange was that aftercare was highly wanted and red was that aftercare was pretty much required. I kissed her forehead, and rushed to the bathroom as I turned on the water to the bathtub. I grabbed a cold water from the fridge and dragged her along with me to the bathroom. She sat down first in the tub, and I sat down behind her guiding her to drink from the waterbottle. She relaxed in my arms as I kissed her head. I kept repeating how much I loved her, how beautiful she was and that she was safe. After a few mins of cuddles, she got back to herself. “Hi baby” I said as I smiled while she looked up on me. She smiled back. “Thank you baby.” She muttered and I hugged her tight. We sat in the tub for a while until she was ready to go to bed. As we turned around to walk to the bedroom, she tossed her jersey at me. “I like you better with my name” she said as she smiled knowing that one day, I was gonna have her lastname.

#caroline graham hansen #woso imagine #smut

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the-cat-and-the-birdie · 7 months

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I don't think non-New Yorkers know how funny Miles and Wiles having Jordans is.

Like it's REALLY funny and really Brooklyn - New York of him.

Miles, Wiles, and Jordan Sneakers - Clever Cultural Characterisation

[A MEDIUM length post were I talk about Brooklyn Sneaker Culture and it's use in ATSV]

Have you ever wondered -

Why is Miles the only one wearing branded clothing?

When all other brands are either spoofed or replaced, why is Miles - the main character wearing such VERY BLATANTLY branded sneakers?

And why is Nike, a random shoe brand, the choice to go with?

There's a reason the creators show Miles' creativity and personality through his shoes.

And it's because

JORDANS HAVE A CHOKEHOLD - on Black Guys in High School from NYC

And this might be bizarre to some and idk if it translates to other black communities- (please tell me if it does)

But here in Brooklyn, almost every masc guy in my high school was OBSESSED with Jordans. Most guys I knew can name certain releases by looking at them, and had multiple pairs in different colors

JORDANS WERE LIKE SOCIAL CURRENCY - from middle school all the way to college. And it's a very cultural thing here in Brooklyn.

What colors you had and how many are something you bragged about. Many guys own multiple different colorways of Jordan's and will WAIT in line hours for a new release.

There's a store call Flight Club here in the city, and sometimes you'll see the line going out the door, of well dressed black guys waiting for the new release of Nikes to start going on sale.

Of course Adidas is popular, but no where near the culture hold as Nike to us.

I remember begging my parents for like a week until they brought me Black Air Force 1s

And I STILL have them over ten years later. They're too small, but they're holding up well. And even until this day, my home town is lined with sneaker stores. There's one around the corner from me rn.

Here it really is natural for guys LOVE JORDANS and to use them as a form of self expression. It's not odd for Fashion is on the minds of black guys in Brooklyn.

Even in high school, guys were matching their outfits and always trying to get the latest brand name. Mind you, this is an inner-city school full of 98% low income black kids. For us that was a social language.

Some shoes even have their own 'personalities' tied to them:

For example:

Black Air Force 1s (the one above) are often called 'hit a lick' shoes. Hitting a lick means to rob someone. So there's this idea that if you have those on you about that action lol it's an chill inside joke though it isn't serious.

White Air Forces are seen for guys who DON'T do that because they're too worried about getting their white ass shoes so clean.

Keep the above in mind for the next part

Hair cuts - like shape-ups and fades, Backpacks, and Shoes are three big things that were a fashion influence in my high school HARD.

Trends also are a big thing here, and they come on really quickly. I remember for maybe four years a brand called Sprayground got big, and after all SO many high school kids started collecting these $80 bags in all different colors. I wanted one so bad.

A lot of them had illustrations of things like money or weed.

If you see a mfer with the shark mouth bookbag RUN he's the biggest fuckboy you've ever met.

Which is to say - !42 WOULD HAVE ONE OF THESE BAGS

Guys get SO INTO THEM

How many of the iconic orange boxes that you lined up in your room (yes they keep them) was something you boasted about.

MFers would deadass have this in the corner of their room and bring you over talking about sum 'it's decor' SIR IT'S A HOARDING ADDICTION

They'll walk different, and NEVER squat, because doing that might crease the leather along the toe box. And creased Jordans are not fresh so what's the point - they're ruined. A guy in my class use to being plastic bags and tie them around his ankles when it rained then he walked home.

Like look at this Reddit post I found -

'is he stupid' 😭😭that's so mean but like here EVERY guy just assumes you know not to do that to Jordans ever

And that's why the creators do it - AND THEY DO IT WELL

And it's so impressive their deep understanding of this very specific thing that happens in mostly black high schools in NYC.

Cause that's not something you can just search up and research really.

Because of our culture - Miles & Miles!42's shoes are a silent language in their own right.

Like Miles!42's shoes are one of the first things we see about him.

They're the first thing we're suppose to notice - because it let's is compare him to Miles.

Miles' Jordans are iconic - the white and red shoes.

They're clean and white, with pops of color and personality. Like Miles, he's about being the good of Spider-man, while also getting himself and adding his own colors to it.

And because it's natural to the character and the culture, they let his shoes be the signal that Wiles is not like Miles. He has a different style, in fighting, in speaking, in personality, from his hair literally down to his shoes.

REMEMBER HOW I TALKED ABOUT SHOES HAVING PERSONALITY AND THE BLACK AIR FORCES ??????

Wiles' shoes are VERY similar to Black Air Force 1s. It's basically that with utility bags and purple detailing.

That's a signal - like I said: WILES IS ABOUT THAT ACTION. He's here to get his lick back.

From his standpoint, as a black guy from Brooklyn with his personality, he would know about this culture. He'd know the message black Nikes send where he's from.

It'd be natural for him - Hell yeah he'd go for the black Jordans.

He's speaking his social language.

Wiles' doesn't have to say 'fuck around and find out' he got on Air Forces with bags on them - HE'S ABOUT IT.

The writers didn't wake up one day and say 'Oh Nike wants a brand deal?! Okay cool'.

They don't show Wiles' shoes to be like 'LOOKY BUY THE NICE SHOES' - We are shown this shot

For them to be like : This is who Miles!42 is.

Because of sneakers.

Isn't that COOL? ISN'T IT. ISN'T IT COOL THE SOCIAL DYNAMICS OF INNER CITY BLACK KIDS IN NEW YORK??

But it's really funny to me to see Wiles shoes and be like 'damn he bout to fuck Miles up'.

THE IDEA OF THEM FEIGNING OVER JORDANS Fyyofydyogoc

Do guys where you are do this?? Like is this a thing y'all know any Sneakerheads.

Anyway I would put a pic of Hobie but I'm on mobile so they won't let me and I'm lazy

Bye.

#no proofreading fuck it we ball #spiderman #atsv #marvel #spider man #across the spiderverse #atsv miles #atsv analysis #miles morales #miles g #miles 42 #Earth 42 miles #Earth 42 Miles Morales

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arminreindl · 4 months

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Fossil Crocs of 2023

2023 has been a year with its ups and downs, but one consistent thing has been its fossil crocs at least, giving us another interesting variety of species and genera not known before. Like last year, I'll go down each of them (including phytosaurs) and give you some key notes. And since I've done my best to make individual posts for them I'll link those when available. I'll also try to give translations where possible, but do note that sometimes I might switch around a word due to it just sounding awkward otherwise.

Scolotosuchus

Starting us off is Scolotosuchus basileus ("royal scythian crocodile"), a basal, rauisuchian-like animal from the early stages of the Triassic. An animal roughly 3 meters long, it is primarily known from vertebrae and some other material, which however does have interesting implications. Based on the anatomy of the vertebrae, it has been speculated that Scolotosuchus performed a lot of rapid movement of the neck, presumably while hunting. Furthermore, it might be that Scolotosuchus lacked osteoderms, instead having developed a bracing system for its body much more like that of dinosaurs and mammals. Artwork by @knuppitalism-with-ue (he'll pop up quite a lot)

Colossosuchus

Fast forward to the Late Triassic, the hayday of early Pseudosuchians, and we find our first phytosaur of the list. Colossosuchus techniensis ("colossal crocodile of the Indian Institute of Technology") was an enormous animal from India's Tiki Formation. This one is known from undisputably better material, perhaps some of the best on this list as we have an entire bone bed of these guys, possibly representing a mass death site. Size estimates of the large specimens generally range from 6 to 9 meters in length, also making it the largest animal of this list, with the authors favoring an estimated 8 meters for the largest individual. Of course this is all subject to change, as we don't know the precise proportions (the downside of a bone bed is that all the bones are kinda jumbled together and god knows what belongs to what). Artwork by Joschua Knüppe again, a female being courted by an overconfident and confused Volcanosuchus (told you so)

Kryphioparma

Ok I won't bother you with this one too much. Kryphioparma caerula ("blue mysterious shield") is an aetosaur from the Late Triassic Chinle Formation of Arizona. Now aetosaurs are cool of course, but the thing is that Kryphioparma is known from exclusively osteoderms, their large armour plates. While thats valid, its also not really exciting (as you could have guessed from the absolute lack of artwork). Best I can say is that it coexisted with a bunch of other aetosaurs, which surely would have been a sight to see back in the day.

Venkatasuchus

Now Venkatasuchus armatum ("Venkata's armoured crocodile") is in a similar boat. This Indian aetosaur too is only known from osteoderms, tho at least a lot more of them that were found together, meaning we got a much better idea of its shape. There are some interesting implications it has on paleogeography and how different animal groups spread across Pangea, but that's probably beyond the scope of this post. There is at least some art of it tho, including one piece by Joschua featuring Jaklapallisaurus, an early sauropodomorph.

Mystriosuchus alleroq

Now we got our first new species of a preexisting genus. While I did my best to make posts on new genera, which typically went hand in hand with their respective wikipedia pages, species are a different matter since they'd require me to overhaul and research the whole genus. Which for Mystriosuchus would go all the way back to 1896.

Anyhow, Mystriosuchus alleroq ("jawbone spoon crocodile") is the newest in a long line of Mystriosuchus species and has been recovered from western Greenland of all places. Like Colossosuchus it is known from multiple individuals, at least four in fact, And like Venkatasuchus, it appears to have wideraning implications for the spread of archosaurs during the Triassic. Oh look its Josch's art again, neat.

Jupijkam

The final phytosaur and the final Triassic taxon of the year, Jupijkam paleofluvialis ("horned serpent of ancient rivers") was recovered from Nova Scotia Canada and represents one of the northernmost phytosaurs (alongside obviously our friend Mystriosuchus alleroq above). It is far less complete than the other phytosaurs I covered so far, but still nothing to scoff at. It's also one of the youngest known phytosaurs, possibly having lived during the last stage of the Triassic. There's no art but here's an image of its snout from the original paper.

Turnersuchus

And with this we have reached the Jurassic and somewhat of a double feature. Ordering these via chronology makes this almost like storytelling. Turnersuchus hingleyae ("Hingley's and Turner's crocodile") is the oldest and basalmost named thalattosuchian, a group of crocodylomorphs that took to the seas. As such it shows a mosaic of features, already having begun to reduce its limbs, having a moderately long snout and still bearing osteoderms, which some of its descendents would come to lose. Turnersuchus dates to the Pliensbachian, a stage of the early Jurassic, tho the paper mentions how its not likely to hold its title as oldest member of its group for long as even older material has been discovered and is awaiting publication. Artwork by Júlia d’Oliveira and Joschua Knüppe

Torvoneustes jurensis

While Turnersuchus gives us a glimpse at what the earliest thalattosuchians were like, Torvoneustes jurensis ("savage swimmer of the Jura Mountains") represents them at one of their most derived. At 4 meters long, it must have been an impressive creature, entirely smooth and lacking osteoderms, highly reduced arms and a tail fluke to boot. There are some interesting features, as unlike other species of Torvoneustes, this one does not appear to have been as durophagous, instead appearing to be more of a generalist. It's the last Jurassic croc of the year and practically lived at the opposite end of this time period relative to our previous thalattosuchian, during the Kimmeridgian. Artwork by Sophie De Sousa Oliveira, not to be confused with Jùlia who drew Turnersuchus.

Comahuesuchus bonapartei

From marine to terrestrial, Comahuesuchus bonapartei is a member of the Notosuchia, land-dwelling cousins to the Neosuchia. This new species is known from the Cretaceous of Argentina and was described on the basis of a lower jaw, which differs from the previously described species of Comahuesuchus by the fact that the teeth are situated in individual sockets. Its jaws were short and wide, being described as U-shaped, giving it a somewhat pug-nosed appearance. In case you're wondering why I don't have the translation of the name thats because I can't access Bonaparte's first paper, so all I can say is that the new species is named after famed Argentinian paleontologist Jóse Fernando Bonaparte. Artwork by I mean you probably guessed it, its Josch again.

Aphaurosuchus kaiju

I have some mixed feelings on Aphaurosuchus kaiju ("powerless kaiju crocodile"), not just because I have to rewrite its genus wikipedia page that I am no longer happy with. No, Aphaurosuchus is a great genus in my opinion, given the complete nature of the holotype. But I do think that the species name of this second form is a bit of an exaggeration, seeing as it is to my knowledge not that exceptionally big. So why name it kaiju other than to sound cool? I also think it just kinda becoms funny when you consider the meaning of the genus name. Anyhow, it does look pretty mean, but thats to be expected from a baurusuchid. It lived during the Late Cretaceous in Brazil and the phylogenetic analysis that accompanied its description had some interesting implications that I'm curious to see tackled in the future. Other than that it's just another baurusuchid from a place crawling with baurusuchids, which tbh is pretty cool itself but doesn't really help make it stand out. Arwork by Paula Zeinner

Dentaneosuchus

It is the middle Eocene. France is entirely occupied by mammals. Well, not entirely... One indomitable reptile still holds out against the invaders. Yes, I am of course talking about Dentaneosuchus ("frightfull crocodile"), the titan of the Eocene, the terror of the jungle. Easily among the most exciting finds, this animal was an enormous sebecid previously thought to be a member of the genus Iberosuchus, but recent research not only shows its distinct but enormous. With a lower jaw around 90 cm long, it rivals even the famed Barinasuchus of Miocene South America. The total body lenght is of course a matter of debate given how little we know about sebecid proportions, with the paper lowballing it at 3 to 4 meters and I personally recovering something more akin to 5 meters. Regardless of the specifics, this would make it easily one of the top predators of its time, tho sadly this was not meant to last. It was among the last non-mammalian apex predators of Europe, before climate change and competition from mammals eventually drove them to extinction. Arwork by Joschua Knüppe and @mariolanzas

Baru iylwenpeny

Our last three entries were all members of the Notosuchia, the terrestrial crocodiles that existed from the Jurassic to the Miocene, so lets jump to the other major group of the time, the Neosuchians, specifically their most recent branch, the Crocodilians. Yes finally we are getting to crocs in the stricter sense.

Baru iylwenpeny ("divine crocodile thats good at hunting") is an animal we also knew for a while under the informal name Alcoota Baru based on where it was found. This year I spent a lot of time writing in the Mekosuchinae, Australasian crocodiles of the Cenozoic and just when I had finished the page for Baru, this guy got published. It's the largest, most robust and most recent member of the genus. Good at hunting is a good choice for the species name, as this animal was over 4 meters long with a head commonly likened to a cleaver and a hunting style speculated to consist of inflicting a lot of trauma on its prey with its massive teeth. I could gush about Baru for ages, but thats the important parts. It lived in central Australia during the Miocene only 8 million years ago. Artwork by the incredible @manusuchus

Antecrocodylus

Now for the last crocodilian described this year and one I remised to make a dedicated post for due to time constraints (I had a busy few months). Antecrocodylus chiangmuanensis ("before Crocodylus from Chiang Muan") is a close relative of the modern dwarf and true crocodiles from the Miocene of Thailand. It is only known from the back of the skull and an associated lower jaw, but it serves to highlight how little we know about the crocodiless of eastern Asia during the Miocene, which is a shame given that this region is crucial to deciphering where true crocodiles originated.

Alligator munensis

And our final taxon is Alligator munensis ("Mun river alligator"), which, obviously, is a member of the modern genus Alligator and thus most closely related to the still extant Chinese and American Alligator. Likely having been split from its Chinese relatives when the Tibetan plateau was lifted up, this species lived during the middle Pleistocene in Thailand and may have survived until the Holocene. It's head was short and robust and its teeth globular, which could indicate that it fed on hard-shelled prey like clams and snails. It was also small, likely not much bigger than 1.5 meters. Artwork by Joschua Knüppe

And that should be all of them, all new species and genera of Pseudosuchians described this past year. It's once again been fun to look back and I hope that you find them just as interesting as I do. Lets hope that 2024 will bring equally fascinating discoveries.

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