#just a little something while I work on other projects

[copperbadge]

Immediate Writer's Block

Had a comment on another post where I thought I'd probably need more space than the notes in which to respond, so:

constant-state-of-self-discovery Oh I get the envy I feel it right now how the fuck do you manage to write without impassable writers block after 5-9 sentences because I haven't fucking figured it out lol

I do have some advice on this!

I think most writers get blocked from time to time, it's normal and my general strategy is just to wait it out, but if you're frequently blocked after only writing a very little bit, I think the problem is one of two things: either you don't know what you want to achieve with the scene you're writing, or you don't know what should happen next within the scene to achieve that goal. If you frame "I'm blocked" as "I don't have an answer I need" then often you move from just sitting there, sweating and staring at a blank page, to thinking productively about how you're going to get where you're going. It's the difference between not knowing an answer and not knowing an answer but knowing where to look for it.

An invaluable piece of advice for this, which I think I picked up from someone who got it off a National Novel Writing Month messageboard, is "When in doubt, ninjas attack." It's not meant to be literal, you don't need to have ninjas or fight scenes just because you don't know what to do, but it helps to get the creativity flowing again. If you don't know what should happen next, or you know but you're having trouble actually writing the scene, it can be very helpful to induce a moment of uncertainty or surprise -- to have a metaphorical ninja attack. One time I did this literally -- the POV character was just on the road somewhere and I didn't know how to get them from a pastoral country road to their actual destination in an interesting way, so I had them get attacked by highway bandits and have to fight them off, which also allowed me to demonstrate that the character had significant unarmed combat skills. But it can also just be like, two characters who are having a boring conversation can be interrupted by a third person, even just a stranger asking for directions, or there can be, IDK, an explosion, or something goes missing, or etc.

Sometimes it also helps to leave it alone but keep it in your mind and go do something else -- listen to a podcast, take a walk, read a book, not because those things are distracting but because all our inputs eventually feed into our brain and come out as reactions. If you're thinking about your book while you're wandering around a park, something you see in the park might have an impact on it. If you've got YOUR story in mind while reading someone else's, you might be more inclined to look at what they're saying and see what you think of it, how it might play into your work.

And honestly, sometimes you just gotta go past it. I'm working on the next Shivadh novel right now and it opens basically with Simon the chef getting into a spat with his love-interest-to-be over some cheese. He want the cheese, she won't sell him the cheese, so they get off to a very contentious start. But I suck at writing conflict especially when it's basically "A character I like is being pompous and another character I want people to find likable is being stubborn and somewhat unpleasant". I've been stalled on it for a while. But I know where the scene ends up, like I do know what the goal is, so I just...skipped it and went on to writing a scene I like better, where they meet a second time and actually discover each others' identity and that they're about to be forced into the grownup equivalent of a school project. Once I've gotten dug deeper into the story I'll come back and write it, and by then I'll have the benefit of knowing the love interest a bit better.

So yeah -- I think a lot of breaking a writer's block, especially when you don't need rest but are just stumped about what to do, is to twist and look at it from another angle. It's not that you don't know what to write, or don't want to write what you know you have to -- it's that you don't have the correct answer to a question, or you need to leave that part alone to ferment and come back to it later. At least, for me.

#writing #constant-state-of-self-discovery #writer's block #inspiration #archive

[wasyago]

what .. happened to cleo…

( sorry, took a while to answer, i was busy n tired )

nothing happened! don't worry!! or, well, i guess cleo happened?

see, cleo has a bit of a... i wouldn't call it an obsession, but maybe a fascination, a liking to prosthetics. the whole deal behind it, how it works, how it connects to the body, how it functions the same or differently to what a human can do, it's all incredibly interesting to her. that's why cleo became a prosthetics neurologist (name is a work in progress, but basically that's a doctor or a specialist who connects the human nerves to the sensors on prosthetics. very fiddly and complicated job so it must be done by a human and not a robot).

that's also why cleo's body is like that, it's sort of an experiment? an art project? of how far can one push the limits of mechanization and at what point does it become impossible to install any more parts. so the entirety of their body is various prosthetics that they've slowly over the course of many years installed / changed / switched and all that other stuff. their profession pays a lot and they have good contacts to a bunch of prosthetic manufacturers, so they can easily afford something like that.

right now (on the reference) the only flesh part that is left of cleo is the brain, because obviously you can't change that for a prosthetic. and uhhhh technically cleo is just a brain piloting a mech? which is a little disturbing to think about tbh.... but that also means that cleo is kind of done with their project, there's no room to push it any further, so all that's left is refining the body, changing prosthetics for the more comfortable / unique ones, etc. she can basically do whatever she wants with her body now which is pretty cool actually!

#recks au #recks!cleo #yagotalk

[devilevlls]

hii can i request 1/jealousy with any of the brothers of your choice and i dont mind if its nsfw or sfw <3

thank you and have a great day/night <3

Hii! I can't remember where I read that Lucifer sometimes compares himself with Barbatos, but it just hit me like lightning and I started writing. 

Hope you enjoy the quick drabble with the prompt! 💙

Jealousy ༘⋆

Gender-Neutral MC༘ ⋆｡˚

MC found themselves spending an increasing amount of time with Barbatos, their affection toward each other evident in the shared smiles and lingering conversations. The human's presence in the demon castle seemed to outweigh their time spent at the House of Lamentation, much to Lucifer's growing anger.

Staying there observing them walking together, Barbatos exuding his customary gentlemanly charm while MC radiated their infectious sunshine personality, only fueled Lucifer's frustration. He grappled with conflicting emotions; as the embodiment of Pride, how could he possibly admit to feeling jealous of a mere mortal?

But today, he resolved to confront the situation. Intercepting MC in RAD’s corridor, he quickly joined them, shooting a meaningful look before bringing up the topic.

"You and Barbatos seem rather close lately," he remarked, his tone tinged with an edge.

"Yes," came MC's simple reply.

"Is that all you have to say?" Lucifer arched an eyebrow, halting their progress.

"We're working on something," MC shrugged, evading his scrutiny with averted eyes, silently pleading for a change of topic.

"And what, pray tell, might that be?" Lucifer pressed, his patience wearing thin.

"Something," MC deflected, determined to keep their secret under wraps.

"Are you two perhaps involved romantically?" Lucifer's attempt at nonchalance betrayed by the telltale twitch of his eyebrows, taking a long pause before MC finally responded.

"Well, that certainly took an unexpected turn," they chuckled, eyes widening in amusement. "Are you jealous?"

"I most certainly am not," Lucifer retorted, his irritation palpable. "Just answer the question and stop playing with me."

"Hmm... I'll leave that for you to discover," MC teased, shooting him a mischievous wink before sauntering off.

Little did Lucifer know, Barbatos was assisting MC in crafting a grand birthday cake for the pride avatar, their secret project intended as a surprise for his upcoming birthday celebration. With each passing day, Lucifer's impatience would only serve to heighten the anticipation of the impending reveal.

Drabble prompts you can use in your requests!

#obey me #obey me shall we date #omswd #obey me one master to rule them all #evllsposts #obey me writing #obey me drabble #obey me scenarios #obey me lucifer #obey me lucifer x reader #obey me swd #evllsasks #obey me barbatos #Luci's birthday is getting closer 😋

[moonit3]

˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ MAKING YOU MINE

⟡ cw: male yandere, biting, blood, violence towards reader, amab/m! reader but with neutral pronouns, implied future noncon but nothing written about it, choking, toxic behavior.

⟡ word count: 1.5 k

⟡ yandere! male boss x amab! reader

⟡ notes: can this be considered as a rewrite? probably not, since there isn’t much than a few similarities between the original piece with leonard and this one is way better, I promise. unfortunately this won’t include any nsfw content as i still struggling how to write amab! readers, so please don’t mean to me.

when your boss invited you to attend one of the most popular conferences of the world, you had to accept it. not only you would gain an extra bonus from the next couple of months, but also who doesn’t enjoy staying in a five star hotel with everything paid? you didn’t waste time to pack your stuff and travel across the word along with leonard, the ceo of the company you works at.

your mind already made plans to relax at a grand hotel room that has the size of your childhood house, perhaps a bath full of bubbles? sleeping in a bed so soft that makes your body think is clouds? or even better, eating all the food from the menu! that would be amazing plans if you haven’t learn that you will be sharing the same room with leonard himself…

“you look quite disappointed,” he said. “didn’t you know that as my assistant during the conference, you will have to share the bedroom as a way to prevent you from leaking information about my next project.”

the man arrange his tie when his eyes stare at you laying down at the king size bed, already having given up after learning the horrible news of having to be his unwilling roommate for the rest of the travel. it’s almost comical to see that one of his employees is now looking like a dead corpse, he would laugh if hasn’t worry about your current state.

“bold them to assume that i would remember of those secret projects when i can’t even remember of what i ate yesterday.” a laugh came out of your throat when rolling over the bed to reach for your phone. without thiking much, you began scrolling over social media to find something interest or a silly game to lose time before today’s conference start.

when you do find some game worth to waste time, your phone was quickly stolen from your hands by no other than leonard himself.

“give me that!” you got up from the bed and tried to reach for your precious little phone at his hands, even standing on the tips of your toes to try to grab it from him. “don’t be stupid, sir! you are too old to act like a little kid.”

of course, your words didn’t made any difference on his behavior. what would you expect from a guy who inherited dad’s company instead of climbing the social ladder to archive it? you know that leonard is one of those guys who think they can have anything by using money or threats. and you have a feeling that you will fall into his trap soon.

between one of your attempts to reach out for you smartphone, he throws your precious item away into the ground, smashing it in million pieces all over the wooden floor. the sudden loud noise made you freeze in front of him, too scared to act out of fear of what he is going to do next. is he angry at you for acting this way? you hope not, he is the one to blame for it. and he was the one that started it.

silence took over, you didn’t dare to speak a word with leonard’s sharp eyes looking down at your face. damn it, why he got to be so tall? he already looks so intimidating during work hours back at the company and now having smashed your phone to the ground only twice that feeling growing inside your body.

before you create any courage to say a word or two, he began laughing like a mad man while you can only imagine what is going on inside his head. seconds ago, he looked ready to yell at you for his own mistakes and now he is just laughing? rich people are weird, your grandfather was right.

one of his hand lays on your cheek, caressing it like he has known you for ages. it seems that make him feel better, his lips curves into a small smile with his finger trancing all over you [pale/tanned/dark…] face.

in your perspective, his affection or whatever you call that, it’s making you feel horrible. the expression on your face says all, you aren’t comfortable by having a man touching your face like this and you wish he stopped with it. however, when you try to move away, leonard harshly grabs your face and brings you even closer to him. his touch on your face is cruel, almost like he could rip apart the skin away from your cheeks and just throw you across the room.

“you are pathetic, [name].” he said. “you know that, right?”

his words hurt you, it made you feel horrible knowing that a man you often look up to is saying something like that right at your face. between the newly sobs coming out of your throat, you manage to beg him to let it go and unfortunately, he doesn’t listen to your pleading. instead, his grip only gets tighter as he brings your closer to him, now you can feel his breath right at your neck. the smells reminds you of those expensive drinks and even more expensive cologne that you could only dream to afford for yourself.

your mind was preparing you for a slap, maybe a punch right onto your nose that would leave you feeling like a piece of trash. but imagine your expression when you only felt his lips brushing against yours in a lustful and rough kiss. by your instincts, you succeeded push him away, just for a fleeting moment you saw his eyes full of fury, making you freeze.

“i-I’m sorry, sir! I didn’t meant to—“

you didn’t get to finish your pleadings, not when leonard’s hands quickly wrapped around your throat and began squeezing it like you were nothing, but one of those squishy toys. his strength is too much for you to fight against it, so you simply give up in trying to put up a struggle for him.

it took less than a minute to your vision to become pure darkness, leaving you completely at the mercy of your boss. even with your mind telling to open your eyes and try to put fight, you body can’t handle simple commands to put a fight against him. indeed, you are stupid to believe that you had a chance to fight leonard…

…..

….

…

..

.

.

.

.

water.

the liquid that means essences of all living being of this planet flows over your naked skin, hitting the large bruise around your neck left and the freshly ones that leonard gave you as the result of trying to mark you as his only. the crimson coming out of newly formed bite marks around your chest and neck was way too much be clean by a cloth. so he had to bring you inside the bathtub, took off your clothes and didn’t waste the chance to join you in.

there isn’t a place where leonard hasn’t touch your sleeping body, well with the exception of a certain place. the man would wait to tease your cock for when you fully regain your consciousness, just so he can admire your lewd expressions and record it to keep you in place. he knows it’s wrong, but can he blame himself when you are just too addicted? you are a drug that he can’t control it and he wants more and more of the weird sensation that you brings to him.

once the blood stopped coming out of your injuries, leonard decided it was the perfect time just relax inside the bathtub without caring about the world outside this hotel room. he turned the water off, letting the cold air hit his skin as the water disappeared down the drain. even sleeping, you body searched for a heat source and as he expected, your body moved around to find a heat source that is him.

it’s pathetic how your body acts without any shame to get closer to his, trying to bind yourself onto him to keep yourself warm. how leonard wishes to have brought his waterproof camera to catch this intimate moment between you and him, but there is no worry when he knows there will plenty of moments like this to record in a soon future.

he knows your life won’t be the same when you open your eyes to see your boss handing your naked body so personal, and leonard can already imagine how surprised you will be when hearing about your new position as his spouse. will you try to fight with him? probably not, only if you wish to carry more marks over you body. the most applaudable possibility is you agreeing with his statement with fear controlling both your physique and mind, afraid that he will killed you.

“my dear mine,” carrying your sleeping figure towards the bed, leonard can only smirk when taking a final look before putting a robe on you. “you have no idea what you makes me feel.”

@moonit3 . don’t repost it, don’t modify it, don’t plagiarize, translate it without my permission.

#yandere x reader #yandere oc #yandere x you #yandere #yandere imagines #yandere writing #yandere male #yandere male x male reader #x male y/n #yandere male x reader #male yandere x reader #x male reader #yandere x male reader #male reader #male yandere #yandere man #yandere original character #my oc leonard #➥·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ moon writings #yandere boy #yandere headcanon

[0cta9on]

Their schedules got canceled and they are stuck in the hotel. What would you do if you've got 10 minutes in each of their rooms?😉

And which hotel room would you end up staying in?

Hmmm, 10 minutes isn't a lot of time, what to do...

Sakura: She makes me sit on the bed and straddles my lap before pulling her top up to free her breasts. I start sucking on them while her hips grind against my crotch until my erection strains uncomfortably in my pants. Before we can take things further, however, she tosses me out of the room, saying she'd rather work on her crochet projects and catch up on some sleep now that her schedule is open. Right as the door closes, I catch a glimpse of a sly smirk on her face as I stand in the hallway horny and disappointed.

Yujin: When I get to her room, the door is already unlocked and I can hear muffled moans from the other side. Upon entering, I see that she's already splayed out on the bed, masturbating. After noticing my presence, she beckons me with her finger, begging me to fuck her just by the look of her eyes. I pull her hips towards me, plunging my still-erect cock into her dripping heat, and after a couple thrusts, Yujin cums quickly thanks to her touching herself already. Right as I suggest another position, she gives me a small peck on the lips before kicking me out of the room, saying that she's too tired now and wants to rest.

Chaewon: I knock on her door, and once she answers, she immediately notices the bulge in my pants. With a smirk on her face, she pulls me in and sits me down on the bed, whispering in my ear about how she'll "take good care of me." Chaewon kneels in front of me, unzipping my pants and freeing my cock for the third time that night. She begins deepthroating my cock, licking my precum and commenting how I "taste a little like Yujin." Right as I'm about to blow my load down her throat, her phone buzzes and she stops to read the text, much to dismay. Chaewon says that the Le Sserafim girls want to get some dinner now that their schedule cleared up and that we'll have to continue this some time later, leaving me alone in her hotel room.

Liz: While sitting alone in Chaewon's room, in desperate need of a release, I get a text from Liz telling me to come to her room to watch a movie with her. Not expecting anything, I knock on her door, and Liz answers wearing nothing but a silk bathrobe on. The sight of her exposed shoulder and her slim legs is enough to drive me crazy. I barge into her room, shutting the door behind me before untying her bathrobe and forcing her to bend over the bed. My fingers dig into her hips as I plunge my cock deep inside of her pussy, caring about my own pleasure over hers. Before I can even think about pulling out, I dump a massive load inside of her while my soul ascends to a higher plane of existence. My body collapses next to her on the bed, and I apologize for the roughness. Liz giggles, assuring me that it's okay and that Yujin texted her to take care of me since she couldn't. We spend the rest of the night cuddling while watching a movie, eventually falling asleep in each other's arms.

In the end, I think I would pick Liz's room to stay in :) She seems like she would give the best after sex cuddles and there's just something about the cute face paired with that hot body that's so alluring. Maybe its her dimples :3

Thanks for the ask, frisky! This is probably a longer response than u were expecting, but it was really fun to write so lol

[takemehomefromnarnia]

10 years of Rainbow Direction!

Exactly 10 years ago a girl named Danny printed out this rainbow poster and took it to the first concert of One Direction's Where We Are tour:

Anniversaries are always a bit arbitrary, and Rainbow Direction's was always a hard one to pin down.

This blog is just a day or two short of celebrating 11 years and without it Rainbow Direction would have never existed, because the people who were at the start of it would never have met, but its purpose and setup were entirely different and RD was still far from being developed.

The suggestions that eventually took form in "Project Rainbow Direction" were first submitted to the blog in late 2013. The first brainstorm between Kat, Li and Ellis about it, and further strategy talks with Ed and Molly took place in the early months of 2014. The project was announced in February. Haven and Red submitted their winning poster designs in March. Amy developed a logo and opened a merch store for us in early April.

While we've often referred to that midnight brainstorm on a cold January day as the origin of rainbow direction, that was only its conception. We don't even have a record of which date it was. We could also have chosen any of the more pin-downable dates: announcing the project, announcing the poster contest winners, opening the store. But really, all that Rainbow Direction was at those moments, was an idea, a plan, the hope that we had that it was within our, the fandom's power, to change something for the better for the LGBTQIA+ fans in it.

For months all of us, and especially Li, had worked tirelessly to encourage people to sign up and commit to bringing a rainbow poster to a show.

And then the big moment was there. First day of tour. The moment of truth. Would the people we'd encouraged actually have the courage to take a rainbow to a show, and stick it up in the air? Would it matter to people? Would it actually change something?

10 years on, we know that it did. So much more than we could ever have imagined.

But that was was anything but self-evident at the time. We had no idea. We nervously monitored the wwa tag and the blogs of those who had signed up, and then, after a few days, finally this report appeared. Danny from Bogota shared the first Rainbow Direction fan report.

I think if you'd ask any of us who were here at the time, they'd remember fondly how knowing that someone had actually done it, something happened in the real world, and if one person had done it, more would, how that sparked a fire in our hearts. A ball of warm feelings, not quite the same feeling as before. Before, there had been buzz and excitement and drive, but this, this felt different. Hope. A sense of the personal strength, and collective power, that could come from this if we could make it grow. It took a lot of hard work from a lot of people who committed themselves tirelessly to the campaign, but grow it did.

Thanks to Danny. Thanks to all of you who at some point or other, crafted something rainbow at home, took a rainbow to a show, put a rainbow on your blog, showed that you believed in your own power to change something, and showed the LGBTQI+ people in the fandom that they mattered, and that you cared.

It has been quite the roller coaster ride. As the coordinating group, we've had many ups and downs, and by now, for most of us, our attention has been drawn away from the fandom by our real lives and new pursuits. But regularly, when one of us checks in and sees the rainbows at one of the boys' shows, we share, revel, and sit amazed at how this thing, that once took so much effort on our part to get one, two, three people per show signed up, has grown into a regular staple, with people spontaneously taking it upon themselves to organize for entire venues to light up in a coordinated rainbow pattern, to design new posters and rainbow outfits, or to hand out hundreds of mini rainbow flags in the audience. This community has taken it up as its collective responsibility - let's get those rainbows out. How beautiful is that?! You are all so so amazing.

Thank you, you beautiful people, for becoming a part of this, for making it your own, for making it better, for carrying it forward, into the future.

So long!

#rainbow direction #one direction #rainbow project #harry styles #louis tomlinson #niall horan #liam payne #zayn malik

[olderthannetfic]

I just got a comment saying I should have tagged for dom/sub undertones and I'm a little confused. In canon, this guy always bosses his wife around re: doing shit that's healthy for her - napping, drinking water, remembering to eat more than once a day, getting more than 3 hours of sleep - and she lovingly calls him "Boss Man" as a nickname because of it. On some occasions where she's gone more than a day without eating he'll swipe her phone and order her to eat before she gets it back, something she always seems to find endearing. There's a lot of 'I didn't mean to worry you', 'you're worth worrying about, now here's your favorite homemade walnut bread' stuff, all there in canon, just lifted from canon and transplanted into my fic.

Is this dom/sub stuff? I'm aroace so I've never been in a relationship, but I assumed "take care of yourself" "I will but I will call you a silly nickname over it" was regular relationship stuff. Or is it that the frequency of it makes it dom/sub stuff, and I'm just not grasping that because my neurodivergency is making me not read the social cues correctly? I was only recently diagnosed but this has been a problem for a long time, the whole line between normal and abnormal behavior, so I thought I'd ask you. You're much more well-read than I am and know a lot more about shipping dynamics and how they're tagged. I feel like you're an expert whose opinion carries a lot of conclusions-informed-by-knowledge and so your take could help me figure this out.

People who are doms or subs or write them, if you have a guide on this stuff, that'd be cool, too. I want to educate myself more so I know if I should tag something. After all, I can't get my story to people who want to read it if it doesn't show up in the tags they're searching for. Readers aren't mindreaders. It's on me to make sure they can get ahold of the things they're looking for. I just need to work around my own ADHD-addled brain to do it.

--

I think this is the usual pattern of demanding silly tags that would only make sense in that reader's own bookmarks.

Yes, caretaking and food control of various kinds can be a part of BDSM. No, your description of canon does not make it sound like this has obvious undertones.

Readers are going to have different interpretations. It's possible that other readers would agree with this one. I have my doubts. I suspect they're projecting. But sure, maybe other people would think there was some of that vibe.

However, if you did not intend the fic to read this way, I would not add the tag. This is not what the fic is about.

--

As for what this kind of thing can look like when it is intended as a dom/sub activity, the movie Secretary has a bunch of examples. She calls him on the phone to tell him what her family's dinner looks like that night; he gives her instructions about which things she can eat how much of. The way she acts while making that phone call makes it clear it's an exciting game to her. Another time, he tells her she's not allowed to cut herself anymore: he will provide what she needs.

Even if the characters are being playful, just nagging someone to do basic self care doesn't really come across as this. It's more charged when it's an intentional power exchange thing.

It's more like... hmm... if you and a friend agreed to LARP as characters for a day. Even if you were acting fairly normal and doing things you'd often do anyway, there would be this added extra vibe to it that someone who knew you well could probably detect.

It's not so much about the specific behaviors: it's about the extra meaning those people ascribe to them. If it doesn't seem like the canon characters think of this caretaking any specific way and you, as the fic author, don't see it that way, then I don't think it will generally read as a dom/sub thing to most readers.

[captainofthedauntless]

Integration

Bayverse Donatello x Reader imagine

Info + Warnings: Donatello finds himself all over your life. No gendered language, pronouns, or Y.N used for Reader, but they use Spotify. Friends-to-lovers type beat. Set a few years after OOTS.

Commentary: While it's not strictly necessary reading, this is the sequel to Glow in the Dark, and is set to this playlist.

Donatello has always prided himself on his observational skills.

He notices things other people don't. He recognizes patterns, he collects data, he observes.

It's why Leo turns to him first for mission analysis.

It's why April sends him documents to proof-read.

It's how he fixes codes that refuse to work and reverse engineers biological weapons and is able to turn scraps into functioning gear.

He sees.

Especially when he's already interested in what he's looking at.

Which is why, in the middle of the night, he glances at your activity in his Spotify sidebar.

It's just in his nature.

He does it every now and again- well, okay, every time he opens Spotify- and it's become a bit of a game for him, to try and hone in on your music taste and then casually send you very casually considered recommendations.

He's the most casual turtle alive, everyone knows that.

Sometimes, he spots you playing a song he's given you, and he gets a dorky little smile on his face as he alt-tabs his way back to work.

This time, it's a song he'd given you months back- StarWaves, off of the Oblivion soundtrack, by M83- and just as his lips quirk up and his fingers find his keyboard, he notices something else.

Just below the song, he spots the playlist title.

It's a purple heart emoji.

He hesitates, hand over keys, eyes lingering on his screen.

His timing is fantastic, because the song changes. Little Dark Age by MGMT, which he'd sent you when he last updated the surveillance system- still on purple heart emoji.

This is why science is such a comfort to him- it ties all of those constant observations to something concrete, makes them matter. Observation alone means nothing; study gives him structure.

This means nothing.

But further study- tabbing back and forth between his latest project and Spotify every three-or-so minutes, noting song after song that he remembers giving you- suggests that the purple heart emoji means him.

It makes his heart do something dizzy in his chest, to think that you've tucked his suggestions somewhere safe. That you've taken them with open hands and set them in a display case.

That you make use of them.

It's not even a week later when you come into the lair with a smile and your computer bag over your shoulders and bags of take out in your hands. You set your phone and keys on his desk, both tangled in your headphones, and head off to dole out food, and he can hear a Phantogram song heavy in the earbuds.

Another one of his, he notes happily.

You come back a few minutes later, a tired and amused expression on your face as you offer him his food.

"I take it Mikey found you," Donnie says in wry, fond amusement, and he's rewarded by a little snort of laughter.

"He did," You respond, setting your own food on the desk- next to your things- and shimmying your bag off your shoulder. "I swear, it's like you all let that guy starve when I'm not here."

"He does a lot of things when you're not here. Starve is not one of them."

He almost misses your response- "Tell that to him, he nearly tackled me for his lo mein!"- because something green catches the light of his computer and, in turn, catches his eye.

It's a little piece of circuit board.

One you'd helped him pull out of a haul of scrap tech, and once he'd deemed that piece useless you'd made a joke about it making a cute keychain.

He'd taken an old soldering iron and melted a hole in the corner, threading a keyring through it, and passed it to you before you left.

It was mostly a joke. You'd been joking. He'd just tapped in and taken the bit to the next level.

And the joke was somehow still in one piece, hanging off your computer bag.

It makes his heart do something fluttery in his chest, to think that you carried that silly (warm, safe, delightful) memory around with you.

It's nearly two weeks after that when he climbs in your window in the early part of the night, a little earlier than he should probably be out, with a bag of snacks hanging from his elbow.

You're in front of your TV, flicking through movie options, and he intentionally scuffs his shoe in the doorway to make sure you know he's there.

He somehow still isn't prepared for the way you tilt your head back to smile at him in greeting.

"I know it's kinda warm out, but I made hot cocoa," You say sweetly. "I got marshmallows on sale, so..."

"I brought those chips you like," He responds, slipping the bag to his palm and holding it up as though you can see through it.

"You're the best!" You chirp, slipping off the couch and leading him to the kitchen.

You already have two mugs set out, filled to the brim with marshmallows- he assumes there's cocoa beneath them somewhere, but has little proof from just looking at them.

One mug is your favorite, the one you've been using as long as he's known you.

The other is new.

It's dark purple and large, with an oversized handle. About the same size as the one he probably left on his desk when he left the lair. Large enough to comfortably fit his hand, he suspects.

It nearly stops him in his tracks.

"What is it?" You ask.

"Is this new?" He asks in place of an answer, nodding at the drinks.

"The mug?" You're using that carefully nonchalant voice you use whenever you do something nice. The one that usually obscures a lot of time and effort. "Yeah, found it at that antiques place I told you about. The one with the iron giraffe by the door?"

He remembers.

"It's- pretty," He says haltingly, trying to keep himself in a logical, reasonable headspace.

It isn't a big deal. It's a mug.

(It feels big. Feels huge. Feels like he's going to suddenly collapse under his own emotional weight and leave a black hole in your kitchen where he had been.)

(It's you adapting to his- and his brothers', he reminds himself sharply, trying to stay in the realm of reasonable and unimpacted- quirks and needs. It's you accommodating him in your own home. It's his color. He thinks his unwieldy feelings for you grow a size right here, standing in your kitchen.)

"I thought so," You agree lightly, your back to him as you grab bowls. "Thought you might like it. Thought maybe it would be nice to have one here. For you."

Reasonable is rapidly becoming less and less realistic as his heart skips a beat. There's weight in your words, despite your best efforts- he's more sure than ever than you'd set out to find this mug, that this had been a mission for you.

You never act this casually about something you're actually casual about.

"Vank- er, very nice," He stumbles over his words, slowing down to enunciate. "Thank you."

You shrug, turning to him with the bowls, eyes trained on them. "Since I like having you here, might as well, like, make it easier for you, huh?"

He's glad, in a way, that he's green. When he blushes, it's a lot more subtle on him than it is on somebody like Casey.

(He hopes you're not feeling particularly observant.)

"Being here is easy," He says quickly, a confession he hadn't really meant to make.

It's simultaneously huge and just-the-surface.

Being around you is easy.

You look up now, eyes meeting his with a searching look, and you smile. "I'm glad," You say, that weight still in your voice, some extra, unknown thing just beyond his ability to figure out. Then it shifts, and you're more smirking than smiling, and the air shifts from uncertain warmth to a familiar playfulness. "That means you can easily pick a movie. I'm sick of looking."

He stays long after the credits roll, listening as you look up tidbits about the movie and the cast and how the effects were done. He's on your couch, one leg crossed beneath the other as he angles his body to you and rests an arm over the back (staying very carefully on his side, thank you).

He chimes in as you read out trivia ("I'm pretty sure that should be lucis, but my Latin's a little rusty." "You're right, according to this. Wonder if that was an error or a stylistic choice?") and laughs as you stop mid-sentence to re-read twice because something is so littered with typos that you can't immediately tell what it's saying.

Neither of you look at the clock.

You finish the chips he brought, and you make popcorn, and the two of you finish that, too.

The movie trivia gives way to a story about your friend's dog, and the laughter from that flows into him telling a similar story about Mikey as a child- because apparently, chewing on skateboards is a more common behavior than he'd thought- which shifts into you showing him the meme Mikey had sent you earlier in the day.

Mikey'd sent it to him, too, but he didn't mention it. He let himself lean into your bubble to half-look at your phone, just to be near you.

When he finally gets home- late, very late, the sun's already planning its ascent- he's grateful that everyone seems to be asleep.

Until he hears a throat clear behind him and he winces.

"Hi, Donnie," Leo says, knowing and smug and making Donnie stifle a groan.

Leo asks how you are.

"Good," He says simply, turning and holding his oldest brother's gaze. "We had lots to catch up on."

"Clearly," Leo says, a clear undertone of teasing.

Donnie resists the urge to roll his eyes.

"I'm glad you had a good time," Leo says, teasing fading from his voice, leaving an earnest tone in its place as he bumps a fist into Donnie's shoulder. "Just let me know next time movie night turns four movies long, yeah? Keeping your dinner safe from Mikey isn't my idea of a good time."

Don can feel the blood in his cheeks again. He hadn't meant to stay so long- disrupting your sleep schedule isn't his idea of a good time- but it just... was easy. "Yeah. Will do."

Leo nods and smiles and takes his mug- strong green tea, if Don's nose is to be believed- towards his room.

Donatello exhales softly. He'd expected worse-

"Oh, Donnie," Leo calls playfully, "Mike's come up with several new songs including "k-i-s-s-i-n-g", so I'd brace myself for a musical breakfast."

This time, Donnie does groan, not bothering to respond as Leo chuckles and leaves.

He eats the dinner Leo'd kept guarded- pasta with meatballs, cold, because Donnie thinks that if the microwave wakes either of his other brothers and he has to deal with them before he sleeps he's going to ask you if he can just live on your couch- before shuffling into his lab and flopping into the chair at his workbench.

He leans back into the chair, stretching his neck out with a soft groan before his eyes land on the little glass sun hanging above him.

He watches it for a moment, a soft smile creeping onto his face.

Then he stretches out- too lazy, too tired to get up- and flicks the lights off.

The sun glows, and it looks almost as bright as his heart feels, and he feels himself sink fully into the chair and memories of you and the unwieldy, bright feelings you spark in his chest.

After a few minutes in comfortable, sweet silence, he shifts forwards and boots his computer up.

Just for some music.

Work will have to wait until he gets some sleep. You'd be livid if he jumps in now.

He pulls up Spotify and his eyes go to the sidebar out of muscle memory more than conscious effort.

Your username is the first on the list, right above a purple heart.

He lets out a little laugh, a you-shaped feeling turning bubbly and warm behind his ribs.

Deciding you have the right idea, he pulls up Random Access Memories and hits play on his favorite track, letting the bass softly fill the room and enjoying the feeling of it beneath his fingers as he quickly types out the few ideas he'd had while at your place.

He's asleep before the song ends, face buried in his forearms on the desk.

#tmnt x reader #tmnt imagine #donatello #donatello x reader #x reader #tmnt 2014 x reader #2014 #bayverse x reader #*writing

[desos-records]

Magic's not allowed in Gotham, but Jason's never been one to follow rules. // Jason Todd helps out the local exorcist.

Jason Todd/Reader

Word Count: 1,464

Warnings: some mild violence, demonic possession

-

Jason still liked churches. He told himself it was the architecture, Gotham Cathedral had no shortage of vaulted ceilings, gargoyles, and huge stained glass windows. Its roof was one of the best places to watch the city—high up, plenty of corners and crevices to hide in, no guards making rounds or rogues ready to attack. The bells echoed against the city's metal and glass, the strong notes sounding solemn or joyful, but always reliable.

On pain of death or torture, he wouldn't tell anyone that he liked the quiet most of all. Silence in Gotham often meant something was about to go violently wrong. It was an empty feeling, the second between fire sucking in oxygen and the shockwave exploding. But here, the quiet air was full and warm, something almost hummed just outside his hearing. Even sitting on the roof in the cold air, he could still feel the warmth.

He didn't dare go inside though. He had a thousand reasons not to, namely that he didn't feel like getting another lecture. Bruce was self-righteous enough to last Jason a lifetime. He didn't want to sit under the judgement of the person sitting in the pew beside him. He didn't want to talk about what he believed in or what he didn't.

All Jason wanted was to sit in the quiet and warmth. He could do that from the roof.

On an especially cold night, he sat leaning against a gargoyle, watching the light from the stained glass reflect off the gently falling snow—red, blue, gold, green, and a hundred others swirling in the wind below him. Then the quiet shattered.

"Don't move! It's gonna be okay."

He recognized that voice, its clarity and ability to be kind and commanding all at once. You didn't operate in Gotham very often; your particular brand of justice took you all over the world, but when you did, it meant something had gone very very wrong. Jason smiled to himself anyway.

You didn't keep a secret identity like he did—there was no point when all the bad guys were after your soul—but Bruce had taken to calling you Harbinger and the name stuck. He still preferred your real one though.

Then Jason heard a guttural string of sounds that fell through the air like curses. You spat the demonic language back and Jason caught a flash of golden light somewhere in the Cathedral’s cemetery. Quickly, he shot his grappling gun and swung down, landing in the snow with a soft crunch. Keeping his head down and hood up, shielded by the Cathedral’s shadow, he tracked the familiar sounds of a fight and the eerie echoes of magic.

"No, you'll get out of her right now or so help me God, I will exorcize your head right up your ass."

Jason peeked around a statue and saw you under a cluster of Yew trees, magic sparking from your hands as the golden lines pinned a young woman to one of the trees. A little boy was crouched behind a headstone nearby. Even at a distance, Jason could see how the woman's eyes had turned black. She writhed and snarled at you.

Demonic possession. Your version of stopping a mugger.

You looked a little worse for wear. He saw burn marks in your coat, cuts and scrapes that hadn't yet healed, and something dark and slick had splattered across you—something that was not mud. Even still, he couldn't help the warm buzz he felt every time he saw you.

He wanted to jump in and help, but he knew he wasn't much use while a demon still had its hold on someone. And he'd learned not to distract you while you worked magic.

"Alright, but don't say I didn't warn you."

You strode forward and pressed a hand against the woman's sternum and the other against her forehead. The weave of magic kept the woman's arms and legs pinned back even as she struggled. You were speaking Latin now and the demon screamed curses in its bitter language. Smoke rose from the points where you touched it.

A shockwave erupted outwards and a thick black liquid, like crude oil, gushed out of the woman's mouth, eyes, and ears, staining the snow. Instead of flowing away, it pulled itself inward, forming a humanoid creature taller than Jason. Looking at it, he felt a deep instinct to run.

The little boy screamed and the demon turned its head. Jason bolted forward. He scooped up the little boy, drew his gun and fired all in the same motion. The demon screeched, more surprised than hurt, and staggered backward. You were there to catch it, your magic tangling itself around the demon. With one final shouted spell, your hands moved as if pulling something apart. The demon shattered into fiery pieces, dissolving into the snow.

Quiet returned to the graveyard. You helped the woman to stand, then turned to Jason.

"I need to get her to a hospital," you said, a phone appearing in your hand with a flick of your wrist and a flash of golden light.

He nodded and set the little boy down. "I'll wait for you on the roof."

A tired smile flickered over your face as you reached out, took his free hand, and squeezed gently. "Thank you," you said softly.

Over an hour later, he heard the whoosh of sudden magic, saw a flash of gold in the dark, and then you appeared across from him on the Cathedral's roof. He smiled and slid off his helmet as he strode towards you.

"Can I assume that won't be the last one?" he said.

You shrugged, pulling your coat tighter around you. "Like rats, aren't they? Where there's one, there's ten more. Best to warn your people."

He stopped a few steps shy of you. If you were surprised to see him, it didn't show.

"How long are you here?" he asked. Longer than last time, he thought, please say longer than last time.

You looked up and over his shoulder, staring at the steeple. "A couple days maybe. Depends on how long it takes to find the nest."

Damn.

"Want some help?"

Now you squinted at him, eyes glowing faintly in the dark. "I appreciate it, but it's a little outside your wheelhouse, Red."

He shook his head. "That's what you always say. It's my neighborhood, you know."

"I know. But if I make any more noise, The Bat will stick his nose in it and slow things down." You spread your arms out, twirling your hands like a performer, as sparks danced between your fingers. "No magic in Gotham, remember?"

Jason watched you carefully, paying closer attention to your injuries and noting the weight pulling at your posture, the slight tremor. "At least let me give you a place to crash. You look dead on your feet."

You smiled again, still faint as you looked away from him and dropped your hands. The lights went out. "I'm not so safe to be around at the moment."

"You never are."

You looked him up and down, considering, weighing your options. "Does this offer include take out? I took a little detour through Hell, you see. Hard to get a decent meal down there."

Jason let his smile spread wide and easy as he offered you his hand. "Sweetheart, you got yourself an in-house chef."

Shaking your head, with a scoff that sounded like a laugh, you took his hand. As always, your skin hummed with the magic that coursed through you and, as always, it sent a shiver up his spine.

"Still flirting with death, I see," you said.

He tugged you forward gently, then wrapped an arm around you and lifted his grappling gun from its holster. "Well, you're awful pretty."

As if it were the most natural thing in the world, you draped your arm across his shoulders, pulling the two of you even closer--the only trouble was you smelled of death too, blood and brimstone. But you were warm and radiant and never judged him and he wanted to be those things for you in return, if you'd let him.

There was something there in the space between you, humming like the air around the Cathedral, something magic. But it might break if he spoke it out loud, so he settled for holding you tighter. He didn't flinch from the steady glow of your eyes, inches away from his.

"Charmer," you said, the edge of a genuine smile in the corner of your mouth.

"You said it, not me."

Sparks erupted inside him when you nearly laughed. Then he fired the grappling gun and you both clung tight to each other as you rushed into the air.

#back into the one-two shot groove suddenly #dc gave me jason with a dark catholic aesthetic #and I'm about to make it everybody's problem #jason todd #jason todd x reader #dc #fan fic

[ken-dom]

The Stars Look Very Different Today

∘₊✧ Ryland Grace solo fic

2.5k words

∘₊✧ Summary: The computer has a new command for Ryland — one he’s extremely relieved to carry out.

∘₊✧ Author’s notes: I’m barely half way through the book and I’m so in love with Ryland already. My god. Anyway this obviously got me into researching some of the hornier aspects of space travel, potentially unlocked a new kink along the way, and this is where I ended up. If you’re as curious as I am about the topic of this fic, you might enjoy this Vice article and also this Mauden article!

Title from Space Oddity by David Bowie, suggested by the wonderful @heresthestorymorningglory who encouraged me endlessly with this fic, as always!

∘₊✧ Warnings/content: NSFW, Project Hail Mary spoilers!, masturbation, if you squint it’s kinda Ryland x Computer — and it’s kinda forced masturbation but he definitely wants to do it so take it as you wish, premature ejaculation, written from Ryland’s POV in keeping with the novel, horny Ryland, mentions of porn, low key science kink, and my favourite tag ever: cumming in space! 🪐🛸💦

∘₊✧─────────────────────✧₊∘

‘Ejaculate.’

The voice has become familiar to me over the last few days. Almost comforting at times, if not a little on the unsettling side. But hey, unsettling isn’t the worst thing a person can be, right? Or a computer, if we’re being technical. Which I suppose we should be.

I blink my eyes open, groggy from what I’m guessing was a relatively short period of sleep before I check the analogue clock on the wall to confirm it. I don’t think on it for too long, however, because my attention is pulled to the heat I can feel pooling in my gut, and the throbbing sensation in my… between my legs. It’s untimely, but expected.

I’ve found myself with this little problem upon waking up for the third time in a row, now. The previous times, I’ve ignored it, willed it away while trying to keep my mind on everything else I’m still adjusting to rather than wasting my time… enjoying myself a little too much. 

This time, though, it seems the ship knows and wants me to do something about it.

I obviously haven’t heard correctly. My inconveniently timed arousal must be playing on my mind. It has been a while since I… no, that’s irrelevant right now, I’m giving in but I need to focus.

Why would the computer instruct me to-

‘Ejaculate.’

There it is again, plain as day this time. Yup. The computer wants me to… ejaculate.

Despite being completely alone, lightyears away from another living human, I feel incredibly exposed all of a sudden.

I gradually sit up and look around the room, rubbing at my tired eyes, careful not to cause any friction that might exacerbate matters. One of the robot arms is waiting patiently at the other side of the small room, holding out a little plastic cup, which I presume I am supposed to deposit my offering into. And then, what? Give it back to put into safe storage? Or eject it out into space where it’ll crystallise and float forever as evidence of my deed, only for some alien to discover and analyse a hundred years from now and take back to his home planet with breaking news. ‘Sex seed found among the stars, Earth astronaut got too excited about space travel.’

Sex seed? Jeepers.

Maybe, more likely, they’ll keep it to repopulate in the event of this whole thing not working out, or-

Ok. Let me think this through a little more scientifically.

Why would I need to ejaculate right now? What’s different about this time to the previous times I’ve woken up with a raging erection straining against my uniform?

‘Ejaculate.’

‘Just give me a moment, please?’ I reply, irritable, and the computer does not answer. The robot arm remains, though, and I know I will be given no choice in this.

Is that ethical? 

Whatever. I don’t think I need to get caught up in the semantics of whether one can consent to a spacecraft computer asking for one’s semen, robot arms or not. And after all, in the words of the wise Beyoncé, I woke up like this.

So, back to the question. If it’s not for repopulation purposes, perhaps… ah! Of course! It’s for my own good! The computer is trying to make sure I stay healthy.

Masturbation has been proven to lower anxiety levels and stress. This is a high-pressure sort of situation after all. Maybe it thinks I need a little relaxation to be able to focus properly, or to keep my blood pressure levels well maintained?

That’s the stuff. I’m really getting the ball rolling now.

I remember a study I read, and realise that actually, the fact that it’s been a while is actually important here, too, and not just a distraction my body insists on.

Infrequent ejaculation can result in prostatitis, and the way to avoid the secretions and subsequent bacteria growth that cause the condition, is to ejaculate. Frequently.

The computer has either noticed my recent arousal levels; the higher heart rate, the dilated pupils, the change in blood flow to cause certain… swellings, and let’s face it, the scent of desperation I must be giving off after this long without an orgasm, and thinks I’m overdue an ejaculation or two… or, it’s programmed to encourage masturbation at set intervals with frequent ejaculation in mind as a necessary tool to health.

In honesty, I started to lose my erection when the first of all these thoughts occurred to me – nothing like a computer and a robot arm teaming up to persuade you to rub one out for them to kill the mood – but… mmh…

Listen, I know I can get a little… carried away with science, but I really am alone out here and I don’t think the computer is at all concerned with what gets me going. It just wants me to cum in a cup. I can do that. I think.

I retrieve the cup from the robot arm, which folds away, patiently waiting for me to return with the goods, no doubt.

‘Don’t look, okay?’ I say a little weakly, feeling my cheeks heat up. I know it’s a computer, but it knows things. Too much, almost, and I feel watched. I’ve never been into that, being watched. Nothing against it, but I much prefer to do this with my curtains closed and my doors locked, preferably in a darkened room, or the shower. Since I can’t be afforded these luxuries aboard the Hail Mary, the least I can ask for is the computer not to look.

It doesn’t answer me, of course. I didn’t really expect it to, but at least with whatever else it gathers about me, it’ll know I’m not enjoying it’s presence while I knock one out for it.

Who knows, maybe over time, we’ll get to know one another and the computer’s presence will be the only way I can jerk off. Maybe it’ll start talking me though it… would dirty talk be programmed incase of difficulty… getting into it?

I chuckle softly, knowing that liking the computer is a real possibility. Doll syndrome, it’s called. I’d start preferring the computer to a real living, breathing human. Or maybe there’s another syndrome specifically for the preference of a computer…

But I’m letting myself get distracted again.

Back to the matter at hand. Ha!

I sit back down on my bed, my erection pressed painfully against my uniform trousers now, as I consider the little plastic cup. By the look of it, it holds about 100mls. The average ejaculate is around 1.25-5mls, and from experience I tend to fall somewhere in the middle of that range, so it’s extremely unlikely I’ll fill it, but it really has been so long, the fleeting thought passes through my mind that it won’t be big enough.

Then my thoughts switch to how this is all so clinical and not at all sexy. I guess that’s another kink I might be missing out on, but before I can get carried away again, the robot arm drops something else down for me.

Oh. It’s a dirty magazine. The sort they keep on the top shelf, hidden behind more family friendly editions like House and Home or Celebrity Chat or whatever people read these days.

A pair of breasts almost knock me clean out as the magazine drops into view before me. The robot arm flicks through the thin, glossy pages and holds it open at a page of a woman with her legs spread, glistening folds displayed beautifully as if just for me.

But she’s not real. Looking at the image only reminds me that I’m alone, and whilst her aroused state and thoughts of how she might pleasure herself does make my cock twitch, my heart sinks a little that I’ll never feel another wet pussy.

‘No thank you,’ I choke out, slightly reluctant, and the robot arm switches to a magazine it was apparently holding behind the one with the pretty vagina photograph.

This one displays an image of a thick, handsome penis, uncut and leaking at the tip, fingers ghosting over the happy trail above…

‘No, that’s not the issue,’ I say, a little high pitched, because my cock is leaking now too, and I know I’m not going to make it to the cup if they keep showing me images like this.. ‘I just… I can manage on my own, thank you.’

Still, I feel a little disappointed when the robot arm takes that enticing cock away, too, and I’m left truly alone once again.

I let out a long breath, as even as I can muster. I need to get out of my head.

I close my eyes, breathing deeply. I focus on the ache between my legs. I think about taking my time, really enjoying the sensation of touching myself in space – and the thought that I’m actually in space, does it for me again. With an involuntary pulse of my cock, I feel a thick drop of pre-ejaculate form at the tip.

Take my time? Who am I kidding.

Clasping the cup securely in one hand, I slip the other over the crotch of my trousers and the strangled noise that escapes me would’ve been enough to wake the whole neighbourhood had I been back home on Earth.

I feel a rush of shame flood my senses, but then I remind myself that I can be as loud as I want here. In space, no one can hear you moan. I laugh again, feeling giddy. This is kind of exciting, actually. The thought that I’m alone is finally working for me, and without overthinking it any further, I tear open the fastening on my trousers and let my cock spring free.

I’m so hard it’s painful, visibly throbbing, angry red tip shining with pre-cum. Begging to be touched.

I realise as I stare down at my neglected equipment that words like cum and cock aren’t usually so easily thrown around in my vocabulary, and that I must be unusually horny – another word I tend to shy away from until the moment calls for it – to be thinking like this.

I bite my lips together, anticipating how it might feel.

I’ve never done this in space before. It must be ok to do it, otherwise the computer wouldn’t expect me to just get on with it, ‘reading’ material included, but what if it feels different? What if it hurts?

I tentatively raise a trembling hand and carefully drag a featherlight fingertip up the underside, base to tip, tracing a thick vein and collecting some pre-cum on the way.

I squirm, moaning loudly. I wonder if the computer has really shut its ears off, or if it’s simply programmed to know the difference between horny, desperate groaning and other types of sounds, like real pain or distress.

Whatever, I need more. Fuck.

I suck my finger clean and do it again. A gentle fingertip ghosting up the hot flesh and my body jolts upright.

I’m not gonna last more than a few seconds, and I know it.

It turns out that for whatever reason, touching yourself in space feels fucking incredible.

I lose track of most of my thoughts after that, feeling like I’ve transformed into some sort of rabid animal.

I slump backwards, spreading my legs, and my hand wraps around my shaft, immediately pumping furiously as a broken string of growls and roars rip from my throat.

I barely have time to remember the cup, but somewhere in the haze of unbridled bliss, my lizard brain must have kicked in at just the right moment because only instinct could have given me the sense to raise my other hand and position the cup to catch the insane amount of ejaculate I release as I writhe on the sheets.

Some of it dribbles down over my fingers, but it doesn’t matter, as long as I deposit some in the provided receptacle, I suppose, the computer will be satisfied.

It seems to drag on for a while, this release. Not that I’m complaining; it feels so good I wouldn’t be able to comprehend words enough to form an actual complaint at this moment, even if I wanted to. But as climaxes go, this one, long and intense and oh, so delicious, is up there with the best.

I shakily place the cup (around 7-10mls not including what I didn’t catch – that has to be some sort of record for me) onto the floor and roll over, curling into a ball, my softening cock twitching through aftershocks of pleasure as every muscle in my body relaxes me into another round of sleep.

I wake up five hours later, sprawled on my back with my cock out, still soft for now, and my hand sticky. It must have worked. I must have needed it.

Slowly, I sit up again, tucking my co- my penis back in. Making myself presentable. I am in uniform, after all. I reach up to smooth my hair down. It’s a mess, and there are loose strands stuck to my forehead. I’ll deal with that later.

I notice the cup of ejaculate has gone, collected by my trusty pal, the porno robot arm, and a little sink has been revealed from behind its wall panel.

The computer isn’t going to instruct me to clean myself up – it’s giving me that dignity at least, but it’s pointing me in the right direction. And it’s correct.

I stand on shaky legs to head over there, feeling a slight headrush.

Hopefully, the computer will never speak of it again-

‘Thirty-seven seconds.’

‘Until what?’ I ask, too relaxed to care very much, as I soap up my semen-coated palm.

‘Thirty-seven seconds to produce 7.8mls of semen.’

My cheeks burn. It timed me? And I couldn’t even last out a whole minute?

Did computers care about premature ejaculation as much as humans seem to? Is it even premature when you’re only trying to pleasure yourself?

‘Yeah, well, it’s been a while,’ I retort, sheepish but clearly irked. ‘A long while.’

No further comment from the computer. Great.

I know it’s time for me to get on with the thousand other things occupying my time on this ship, so I do. But the nagging thought I couldn’t shake as I observed the beetles told me that I had to prove the computer wrong about my stamina.

I can last.

And apparently, the thought of proving the computer wrong about my own masturbation habits was doing it for me and-

‘Mmhhnnn-’

That delicious friction against my sensitive cock in these pants was tormenting me. And I thought cock not penis so I must be horny again. Does space travel typically cause high levels of arousal?

Fuck it. It doesn’t matter.

‘Computer, you got another cup? You can watch this time. I’m gonna put on a real show for you.’

#not s f w 💀 #ryland grace #ryland grace smut #project hail mary #project hail mary smut #ryland grace fic #project hail mary fic #ryan gosling #ryan gosling smut #ryan gosling fic #ken-dom writes

[yuri-is-online]

Just had to share a random theory with you bc I honestly don't know where else to share this but I just read Luca's first affection chat and MC believes the huge stigma creature that showed up in prologue behind them was protecting them?? Honestly it happened so fast and was never mentioned again I was really curious about it, but do you think that's actually his missing brother?? Maybe the demon took him and turned him into that... Idk how his power works but it seems to take damage for him or smth? Like a tank. Why does MC see it when she holds his hand but he himself can't? Really feels like a "your brother was there all along" moment. And the height of irony that Luca wanted to protect his little brother but his little brother ends up becoming an anomaly(?) that takes damage for him instead. Maybe the brother also made a wish at the same time?

And Luca can *sense* something is off but gets very sensitive about it (remember how he straight up kind of ignored MC the first night the moment Kaito left, I thought that was so odd) and also snaps at her in chat... I wonder what that's all about.

No because I had the exact same thought when I got that chat. The Stigma creature that showed up does so twice, I believe, both times when MC is enhancing Luca's Stigma. I thought at first that we would see that with every Stigma we enhanced, but that's not what happened it's unique to Luca. While there is a chance his brother made a wish at the same time, I think what Luca says is probably true to an extent. He made a wish and the demon took his brother, but instead of taking him away to some other place he transformed him into an anomaly. If twins have the same soul then it makes sense that Luca's brother can't leave him, he's tied to his brother and desperate to protect him. There's a chance that maybe the only "wish" his brother made was for the demon to take him instead. As for why Luca gets so intense and defensive well.

Luca has a deep hatred for demons, and that hatred is intense. He pulls a knife on Kaito, he constantly asks how to kill a demon of all of his teachers, it's literally the only thing he thinks about seems like. So if his Stigma is an anomaly, then that anomaly is probably a demon. To me, a lot of that hatred and anger seems like a projection from Luca against what he hates about himself. He hates that he failed to protect his brother, but he knows on some level that what happened to his brother isn't something he can blame on a demon. It's something he has to blame on himself, and he isn't ready to accept that. If his Stigma is his brother, then he has to accept that his wish killed him and that there's no getting him back. The demon he hated was always himself, and there's nothing he can really do about it other than deny and turn that anger at anyone telling him the truth.

#<3 asks #tokyo debunker #tdb #tdb luca

[icewindandboringhorror]

I have found a beautiful perfect humble rock specimen that is light yellow with a weird dark yellowy brown lining, somewhat resembling a chunk of smoked gouda cheese... effervescent

#I am still very into trash collecting at the moment and even went out and got one of those grabby sticks for cheap and a little #bucket I can carry around and put trash in. so I am going on walks in nature a bit more (not really to enjoy nature but more to play the #very fun Real Life Hidden Object Point And Click Game that is 'hunt for bottle caps and cans' .. but eh.. whatever gets me out of the #house lol).. anyway.. some nature places near water will have cool rocks #Which I know you're not supposed to take them and I MOSTLY dont.. but every once in a while it's like... when else will I ever find a #gouda rock... I have cleaned up 4 buckets of trash today.. I have helped the environment.. mayhaps.. i could take a One Single Rocke as a #treate... ANYWAY. but yeah. I don't know the names of rocks but there's a rock that's a matte muted marigold yellow sort of #color and I call them 'cheese rock'. I'm pretty sure this one is of the 'cheese rock' species but it just has weird brown coloration #like maybe it got stained or something on one side of it. Most of the other cheese rocks have no markings. though sometimes there will be a #auburn reddish sort of hue on a corner or something.. hrmm.. curious. I also got a Beginner's Hobby rock tumbler and some supplies #so I might try polishing some of the rocks from my enormous rock collection. even though they're all street rocks I picked up from sidewalk #and stuff. I saw a video where someone put random gravel and stuff in a rock tumbler and none of them were Stunning Gems or whatver #but some still turned out cool enough that I would be pleased with the result... OUgh.. I want to post more I need to like do costumes and #sculptures and stuff and be Active On Social Media and think about my Future and Career and how it always benefits artists to keep an #active social media or etc. but I just feel so tired and bad lately. I think the summer heat waves have really exhausted me. I also have #been trying to make new friends + on a weird schedule so I've been socializing and also watching media too much. I notice I always start #to feel this kind of unsettled stress of not making any forward progress in my life if I do that for too long. like 'Okay this week I've #done nothing but meet up with two friends & watch like 10 episodes of tv and only worked on a few projects on the side.. this is HORRIBLE!' #(ppl who follow me here that I talk to on discord: this isn't about you! Im specifically just referencing being tired of introductory talks #with a new round of random strangers during my Friend Hunt. Just clarifying so it couldn't be misinterpreted as vaguepost implying that I'm #secretly bothered by talking to you or etc. lol.. anyway) . Which I know to MOST people 'I talked to a lot of friends and watched some cool #stuff!' sounds like a GOOD relaxing time but.. to me it is not ghhj.. Those are 'external' focuses on things outside myself which bothers #me if not moderated. Like.. i MUST retreat internally to work on my worldbuilding and my own thoughts and etc. at very regular intervals or #it will really start to bear on me too much. Brain Mandated Hermit Isolation lol. Just being too detached from my world and stuff for #too long feels increasingly bad. PLUS. every day I don't make tangible progress towards my goals is a day wasted that I could have been #investing in my future by working on novels/games/sculptures/actual career relevant stuff. Not even in a Capitalism way i just genuinely #enjoy Completing Tasks & feel miserable if I don't for too long. EVEN the media I'm watching I turn into A Task since I rank in a detailed #google doc list after viewing lol.. Like EW movie too boring on it's own. NEED to turn it into something I can categorize and analyze ghghj #LOVE to make things more complicated than they need to be. like YAAAY organizational tasks! yaay meticulous sorting!! BOO ''mindless fun''!

[vivy-nx]

hi!! look at my cool kirby walking simulator fangame i made over the course of last year!! i worked very hard on it!! it's downloadable for windows and linux!

#kirby series #kirby #kirby's adventure #my art #pixel art #it's got a little jank to it but i think it works about as well i could have hoped for. #unfortunately due to “my first time using this game engine proper” brain the two things i'd really like to have added if I could- #those being support for other screen resolutions and input remapping #were kinda. not something I considered at all #and trying to add them in retroactively was a bit of a nightmare #and i kinda lost steam on it and didnt work on the project for a long while #but i figured i'd rather have a release thats rough around the edges than an almost-perfect video game languishing alone on my hard drive #so i'm putting it out as is. #i hope you like it !!! #i learned a lot about godot engine making this thing. hopefully soon i will make even more cool things with godot!! #i can even try godot 4 now!! i've got no idea what that's like because when i tried to port this over to it all the visuals broke somehow #so i just stuck with godot 3.5 #anyway. please enjoy!!! #Youtube

[transmechanicus]

Bitch this shit does not fucking goddamn cohere i swear to god!!!!!!!

#my stuff #aiy am sooooo mad at my research lab rn they are going in like 5 semi-aborted directions at once #ooh we need to do this ooh we need to do this #lemme put u on this project but also if this other one works no one will care abt your results bc the other will be Way Easier #also i know i told u this project is abt drug discovery but actually we don't care about that stage of the process #we care about the shitty little minutia that is important but so abstractly connected as to be virtually unrelated #like ummm if im trying to find a way to inhibit a protein why in fuck do i care if something binds to it while its chopped up into 5 peps?? #that's missing all the secondary structure and complexes it forms that are arguably vital for function?! #binch?? #hough im working so hard trying to understand all this shit i need time i need more fucking time i need everyone out of my ass please pleas #i just wanna pass my classes and get to summer so i can focus on doing lab properly and stabbing myself full of HRT

[harvestmoth]

i love doing the same things twice just slightly different

#if you dont know the first one i beg of you not to look #sorry for posting project sekai things still i think theres something wrong with me #anyways minoharu mlb au :] i have thoughts #either shizuku and airi get to be the turtle and fox or they show up later as something else #while shiho and maybe saki or an? get the turtle and fox #mafu has the butterfly though :] her mom has the peacock :] #or maybe its the other way around. i haven’t decided #project sekai #minoharu #minori hanasato #haruka kiritani #those are little beetle wings btw. they work. she can kind of fly with them #havent really thought about hero names. just minori’s and its kinda boring

[eleanorfenyxwrites]

Why Not Me?

At last: the LQR raises LJY fic from my WIP Wednesdays has a name and proper chapters. My baby has been AO3 legitimized lol (the title is a link to it on AO3).

This whole idea, by the way, was sparked by this post by @korpikorppi about how Lan Qiren and Lan Jingyi seem to be really comfortable/familiar with each other during the Second Siege of the Burial Mounds, so I took that and ran with it while also shamelessly committing to my “Jingyi’s un-Lan-like behavior is actually at least partially because of ye olde ADHD because I say so” agenda.

-/-

“You.”

Jingyi stumbles to a guilty halt. Lan-xiansheng hadn’t called him by name, but he didn’t have to for Jingyi to know he’s the one being addressed. After all, the other children are all behaving exactly as expected as they walk from their classroom to the dining hall -- only Jingyi can’t resist bouncing on the balls of his feet and swinging his arms as he walks. They just had to sit for so long today! His limbs are tingly and restless and he needs to get the feeling out before he has to sit and be quiet for lunch, but he’s not allowed to wander somewhere more secluded to do it.

Which just means that he’ll get in trouble for it.

Again.

He decides to save Lan-xiansheng the trouble of trying to recall his name. Instead, he simply ducks his head and approaches him much more sedately. Once in front of one of the three most intimidating people in the Cloud Recesses, Jingyi dips into a bow and keeps his head down, eyes lowered.

“The way you were walking --“

“Is unacceptable,” Jingyi interrupts before he can stop himself and he winces, though he manages not to break his bow to clap his hands over his mouth. It won’t turn back time to 5 seconds ago before he’d interrupted anyway, so there’s no point.

“Do not interrupt,” Lan-xiansheng reprimands as expected, though he doesn’t sound any sterner than when he’d begun. Jingyi nods and dips a little lower in his bow briefly. He really doesn’t mean to be bad, but no matter what he says it always ends up the same. There’s no use trying to defend himself anymore.

“Yes, Lan-xiansheng.”

“Do not cause further disruptions.”

Jingyi hesitates but nods again. At least he’s not getting a punishment this time -- his last one had been for a few different things and it had taken forever to get all the copying and handstand-ing out of the way. He straightens up again in time to see Lan-xiansheng wave him away and he turns quickly, eager to go get something to eat -- and immediately smashes face-first into someone’s knees.

“Ow!” he yelps and rubs ruefully at his nose, his face blanching when he catches sight of the boy accompanying whoever he’d run into. It’s Lan Yuan, which means --

“Ha..Hanguang-Jun,” Jingyi barely manages to stammer. Hanguang-Jun came out of seclusion a few years ago now, but he still barely ever interacts with the rest of the Sect (at least as far as Jingyi can tell). His son is nice, but Jingyi feels ugly things that he know he shouldn’t whenever he sees the boy, and so it’s with the twin guilt of having run into Hanguang-Jun and for not liking Lan Yuan, Hanguang-Jun’s pride and joy, that Jingyi hurries to bow again.

“Move carefully,” Hanguang-Jun instructs, his voice deep and slow. Jingyi nods in a rush and is finally allowed to make his escape from what is now two of the three most intimidating people in Cloud Recesses.

Jingyi walks slowly to the dining hall, scuffing his heels all the way. He knows that it’s not fair of him to not like Lan Yuan. And an even tinier, even secreter part of him doesn’t like Hanguang-Jun either. Or Lan-xiansheng. Or Zewu-Jun. He respects them, of course he respects them! And he knows he shouldn’t feel this way, which is why he hasn’t said a word of it to anyone. But any run-in with any of them always puts a sour taste in his mouth.

Jingyi sits down with his rice and starts eating glum little bites. He usually can’t get the food in his mouth fast enough, cramming his cheeks full of rice and vegetables until it feels like they’ll split open. He’s always reprimanded for it, though never actually punished since he never eats more than the proscribed amount. Today he eats like he’s supposed to, and he pouts down at his rice feeling not very like himself at all.

The thing is, Jingyi knows that he’s related to them. He’s a Lan too - a clan one, with the cloud ribbon and everything - but he doesn’t get to have a family. When he was little, he used to cry for his parents and the aunties in the children’s house would tell him that they’ll be back soon, just sleep Yi-er, your family will come back for you.

Only they didn’t, because the aunties said one day that they were actually gone forever in the war that took a lot of kids’ parents. And Jingyi had cried and cried, wanting them so badly it hurt all the way down to his fingertips and his toes. The aunties would try to comfort him, but then they left and new aunties came in, and they didn’t know him at all and he just became another kid in the house.

And then the other kids started leaving. The sect was getting bigger again, and people were able to take in kids that weren’t theirs and give them a home and a new family, but no one ever came for Jingyi. And then one day he heard the aunties chatting amongst themselves that Hanguang-Jun had left the Cloud Recesses completely and come back with a son. He claimed the boy for his own, but the aunties thought with the way the boy was so sick that he’d been a war orphan that Hanguang-Jun wanted. Well Jingyi was a war orphan too, but Hanguang-Jun hadn’t wanted him. He’d gone all the way to Somewhere Else to find a son he wanted more.

It just doesn’t feel fair sometimes to be a Lan but not a Lan. He’s not the only kid in the children’s home, of course, but the others are all children who were sent here to live by their parents so they can become disciples. Sometimes their parents are even allowed to come and see them, and they can send letters every season. Sometimes Jingyi wonders if he’s maybe the loneliest kid in all of Cloud Recesses. Maybe the whole world.

Jingyi finishes his first bowl of rice and doesn’t reach for a second, his belly too knotted up and full of his sad mood to eat any more.

Every time he sees them he’s reminded that they don’t want him. They have to know he exists, even if they don’t know his name - he wears the ribbon, after all, and he’s in all the right classes for his age. Don’t they care? And Lan Yuan never leaves Hanguang-Jun’s side, which means he gets to be around his dad all the time! Jingyi wants that! He wants someone who will hug him and let him run around the house and play with him and take care of him - just him!

He’s never allowed to do that in the children’s home. The aunties tut over him and ask him what they should do with him and they give him extra chores to keep him out from under their feet while they take care of the others. They tell him he’s a lot to handle and he needs to be better behaved if he wants to be allowed to become a cultivator. Jingyi wonders sometimes if that’s why his family doesn’t want to take him away from the children’s home -- he’s too much, and at least there he’s someone else’s problem.

Jingyi’s mood follows him for the rest of the week like a big cloud over his head that he can’t get rid of. It wouldn’t be so bad if he didn’t have to see Hanguang-Jun and Zewu-Jun all over the place, but for some reason he sees at least one of them every day as he walks to and from class or his chores or the dining hall. Every time he sees them he has a foolish little flash of hope that they’re out and about looking for him, but they never are and each time it feels like a fresh rejection.

He skips class.

He skips class all week long the next week to go hide in the woods, near enough to hear the bells and the occasional hushed chatter of disciples on the other side of the trees but far enough away that no one can find him perching in branches or sitting on soft patches of moss.

It takes ten whole days for someone to find him and tell him he’s in trouble and to report to Lan-xiansheng. Even though he knows it’s to be punished, it almost feels like a reward. If they won’t notice him on their own, it seems he can make them notice him if he acts badly enough. He doesn’t want to be bad, and actually he wasn’t even trying to be, but if doing things to get in trouble will get him noticed then maybe it’s worth it.

“Your teacher informed me you have not been attending class,” Lan-xiansheng remarks once Jingyi has knelt in front of him across a table stacked with essays from the older classes. Jingyi dares a glance up at his stern gaze and immediately falters, dropping his eyes back down to stare at his fists on his knees instead as he shakes his head. “Where have you been instead?”

“The woods,” Jingyi manages to reply, still addressing his own lap. “There’s a nice clearing off the path to the sword grounds.”

“What makes this clearing better than attending your classes?”

Jingyi shuffles uncomfortably and immediately reprimands himself for fidgeting, the voice in his head a strange mixture of the sternest auntie and his teacher.

“I don’t know.” It comes out easily, almost desperately, and Jingyi can’t decide if it’s a lie or not. He doesn’t know why he didn’t want to go to class, but the thought of going made him sadder than the thought of sitting by himself in the woods so he’d just…done that instead. But he already knows from experience that that isn’t the sort of explanation anyone wants to hear when they ask things like this, so “I don’t know” is safer. They can’t be mad at him for something he can’t explain, right?

“Perhaps you will think of the reason while you do handstands until the evening meal.”

Dinner?! It’s only just after breakfast now! Jingyi’s head snaps up and a protest forms on the tip of his tongue; he quickly bites it back along with the sudden frustrated burning in his eyes to nod instead.

“Yes Lan-xiansheng,” Jingyi replies with effort. He was wrong -- this hurts worse than being ignored. Not worth it at all.

And yet he can’t seem to stop. He serves his punishment and lasts a few days before he acts out again and is once again delivered to Lan-xiansheng for punishment. Sometimes he does chores around Cloud Recesses, sometimes he does handstands, sometimes he copies, sometimes he copies while doing handstands -- it all makes him feel about as big as an ant getting poked with a stick, but he can’t help it.

It goes on for months, and Jingyi develops a reputation for being a troublemaker. Other children avoid him, adults watch him closely waiting for him to slip up, and he’s more miserable than he’s ever been.

Today he’s meant to be fetching water for his chores. The Cloud Recesses has running water, but Lan-xiansheng is running out of new ways to punish him so Jingyi is fetching water. He decides to go all the way up into the back hill for it, just because, and stumbles upon a secret place that’s way better than his old clearing in the woods. It looks about the same as that one, except this one is full of rabbits!

Jingyi drops his buckets and hurries into the clearing with a gasp, something happy lighting up in his chest for the first time in a long time to see the fluffy little things gamboling about in the grass. That little spark fans itself quickly into a desire to join them so intense he can’t possibly keep it under control, and so without a second thought he begins jumping and running around with them, giving chase and laughing when they all scatter away. He lunges for them and tries to catch them, wanting desperately to find out what they feel like.

He can’t help but scream in sudden fear when he’s yanked to a stop by a hand in his collar. He looks up and feels the happiness in his chest burst like a soap bubble as he finds himself staring up at a glaring Hanguang-Jun.

“Ah…” he tries to start, but terror has closed his throat.

“Do not chase them,” Hanguang-Jun intones, his voice cold and inflectionless. It somehow feels just as bad as when people are angry with him. “You will hurt them.”

Jingyi struggles against Hanguang-Jun’s grip with a sudden burst of anger and the fear closing up his throat turns into a lump that he can’t swallow away and a burning in his eyes. He gulps down big, shaking breaths and scrubs at his eyes while Hanguang-Jun releases him without another word. He should leave, he knows he should, but it’s not fair! He just wanted to play and there’s yet another rule! Another ‘do not’ that can be used to make him bad!

“I didn’t mean to hurt them!” Jingyi protests, finally finding his voice again. He glares at Hanguang-Jun’s feet through the warbling of his tears and scrubs at his eyes again. “I wanted to play! I’m s’posed to be doing another --“ he hiccups -- “another punishment for being bad but I found them and wanted to play instead! I’m sorry Hanguang-Jun, I don’t want to be bad but - but - but -“

Jingyi trails off into sobbing as he curls up in a little ball on the ground. Why couldn’t he have been born a bunny? Bunnies don’t have rules, bunnies can be soft and fluffy and have a million-billion siblings and be safe in meadows. They can run and hop around and no one will tell them they have too much energy, that their behavior is inappropriate, that he’ll never be allowed to become a proper disciple if he doesn’t learn to control himself and not lose face for the Sect.

That must be why none of his family want him -- embarrassment. He’s not like the rest of the Lans, even Lan Yuan who’s his age and a war orphan too is quiet and nice and all the right things that the teachers want to see. Jingyi’s just a nuisance.

Jingyi isn’t sure how long he cries, but it feels like he’ll never be able to stop. At some point through his heartache he hears Hanguang-Jun greet a new set of footfalls with a quiet, “Shufu,” and Jingyi tries to pull himself together. He doesn’t want to cry in front of Lan-xiansheng too, not when yelling and crying in front of Hanguang-Jun is bad enough. He uncurls with an effort and stands up to offer a bow to Hanguang-Jun and then to Lan-xiansheng at the entrance to the little meadow.

“I’m sorry,” he says thickly. “I didn’t carry the water.” Jingyi leaves a wide berth between himself and Lan-xiansheng as he returns to his discarded buckets and picks them up, one in each hand. They already feel as if they weigh a thousand pounds, exhaustion and sadness dragging at his limbs before the buckets are even filled.

He’s nearly to the path when Hanguang-Jun calls for him. “Jingyi. Come back.”

#the untamed fanfic #Lan Qiren #Lan Jingyi #Lan Qiren raising ADHD baby LJY like 'I have failed my nephew so I will not fail you' #LQR looking at a blood Lan who is too distant to be in the line of succession unless something drastic happens #and saying 'I do not have to raise you to lead so I can raise you gently' #and LWJ looking at this boy who reminds him so much of WWX and looking at his very quiet and serious perfect Lan little son like #'please. Sizhui needs to be kind and laugh and be a kid in a way I wasn't allowed to be' #and Jingyi looking back at all of them like 'YOU GIVE HEAD PATS AND BUNNIES OF COURSE I'LL DO ANYTHING' #ANYWAY - this fic is not going to be anything new for a While for anyone who's been keeping up with it for WIP Wednesdays #It's literally just reposting what already exists only with proper chapter breaks and stuff #but it's at least something I can post regularly while I'm working on my other projects behind the scenes