#argh

[angstandhappiness]

IMPORTANT

Hey everyone, I know it's going to be a busy day for a lot of people, but Google enrolled everyone over 18 into their AI program automatically.

If you have a google account, first go to gemini.google.com/extensions and turn everything off.

Then you need to go to myactivity.google.com/product/gemini and turn off all Gemini activity tracking. You do have to do them in that order to make sure it works.

Honestly, I'm not sure how long this will last, but this should keep Gemini off your projects for a bit.

I saw this over on bluesky and figured it would be good to spread on here. It only takes a few minutes to do.

[granadolis]

The Hero's Journey

[tojisprettywife]

{note: unedited as hell, not at all proof read. me being self indulgent again. i love thinking toji is the sweetest husband/ boyf when he actually falls in love hard. a drabble ig?}

warnings: suggestive?! lactation (nursing a baby), fluff?!

again, back with the same agenda, husband! toji who lovingly watches you nurse your baby boy. he’s so smitten, heart swelling with love as he sees the little one desperately suck on your nipple. your breasts full of nourishing milk for the younger one. as he watches this little bonding moment between you and the little one, a small smirk creeps up his face. as much as he loves and is smitten by this, by nature he’s a cocky man. he isn’t a girl dad, a boy dad through and through. he slowly inches his finger towards your breast, purposely unlatching your nipple from the baby’s mouth. he likes to get a reaction out of everyone, he loves teasing, that’s his love language. he sees the baby squirm in your lap, whining in frustration, almost crying. he smiles at this, you turn to toji. “toji?” he’s propped up on his elbow, having fun with this. then he let’s the baby latch back again, by removing his finger, which is holding back the nipple from his little mouth. the baby happily latches back on, kicking his little legs in delight, giggling. “sorry, little guy” he smiles lovingly at his son nursing from you. then he looks up at you “sorry, mama” he holds your hand, rubbing his thumb, over your hand in circles, smiling slightly. this man is knee deep in love, oh god.

[kafkaesquetwink]

something i really appreciate about the locked tomb is that there are so many little details that make it clear tamsyn muir wanted you to have even more fun every time you re-read it. like throwaway lines or descriptions that become tragic or funny or foreboding only after you’ve read them before.

[hansolsticio]

mds que delícia que foi ler isso aqui você é tão maioral, sunsun pqp

AMG, preciso de uma fic do Markinhos mandrake marrentinho mas é pau mandado da namorada 🧎🏽‍♀️🧎🏽‍♀️🧎🏽‍♀️🧎🏽‍♀️

𓍯𓂃sinopse: Mark se fazia de durão quando você não estava por perto, mas se transformava completamente no seu cachorrinho sempre que seu nome era mencionado.

Mark Lee × Fem!Reader | br!au

𖹭.ᐟavisos: smutzinho bem fraquinho, masturbação feminina e acho que é isso (??)

w.c: 1.3k

⋆notas: anonnn, provavelmente eu não atendi ao seu pedido da melhor forma KKKKKK Mas foi bem difícil escrever essa, como eu já comentei aqui antes: é muito difícil escrever putaria, então escrevi minha safadeza romântica, espero que você curta!! 🖤

— Os meninos querem pegar uma prainha neste fim de semana — Mark comentou enquanto guardava os copos lavados dos refrigerantes que tomaram junto com a pizza horas atrás. Honestamente? Era sexta-feira, e você estava exausta. Nem percebeu que, após o lanchinho, dormiu com a cabeça encostada nele. A proximidade fazia seu corpo transpirar, mas não importava. Você amava quando ele fazia aquele carinho no seu braço enquanto parecia distraído com o filme na TV. Mas, na real? Ele fingia distração, porque te olhava a cada cinco minutos, pensando em perguntar se você não queria dormir na cama dele. Mas ele sabia que era arriscado. Você poderia fugir só com a sugestão, com medo de aceitar, dormir até o dia seguinte e seus pais pirarem com você.

Você puxou para trás a aba reta do boné dele. Não precisava daquilo dentro de casa, mas ele era vaidoso, gostava de ostentar as correntinhas para você e exibir sua coleção de bonés, mesmo que você sempre os tirasse quando o via. Dessa vez, fez diferente.

— E o que você disse? — questionou, sentindo-o te envolver nos braços de um jeito delicioso demais. Sentia que podia facilmente derreter ali, feito gelatina. Mark beijou seu pescoço, mesmo que você suasse um pouquinho na região por causa da cabeleira solta, os fios indomáveis, ainda mais depois do cochilo no sofá. Mas ele nem se importava. Para Mark, você tinha gostinho de bala, daquela de iogurte que derrete na boca. E ele amava te ter na boca.

— Disse que ia ver com a minha rainha — confessou, te apertando nos braços. Você fingiu uma careta, envolvendo o pescoço dele com os braços e beijando-o devagar, a princípio, somente um beijinho suave.

— Você é muito brega, sabia? — questionou, sincera. Mark sorriu, tirou a mão de você só para remover o boné e deixá-lo na primeira superfície que encontrou. Só tinha olhos e pensamentos para você.

— E você ama, né? — Mark provocou, bem pertinho de você, a boca a centímetros da sua, o corpo próximo te prendendo entre ele e o balcão da cozinha da casa da tia dele. Ela tinha viajado alguns dias antes e deixado o lar só para ele. Você mentiu para os seus pais, dizendo que visitaria sua amiga, mas ali estava, arrumada dos pés à cabeça: rasteirinha, vestido curto e preto, sem detalhes muito provocantes, mas só a alcinha fina fazia Mark ver estrelas toda vez que percebia. Queria prender seu cabelo com o punho, empurrar o quadril contra o seu devagar, te ter no seu estado febril, te ver sucumbir para ele gradativamente.

Mas você não era qualquer uma. Mark nunca enxergou nenhuma mulher dessa forma. Mas você… Era como se suas almas fossem intrínsecas, mesmo sem nunca terem pertencido uma à outra. Ele não queria forçar nada com você naquela noite. Só faria se você permitisse. E mal sabia ele que você chegou ali com uma única intenção.

O beijo casto, quase juvenil, avançou para algo lento, voraz, molhado demais. As línguas se encontravam, exploravam, se conheciam. Você se esfregou contra ele sem nem perceber, a respiração descompassada. Mark quase se abaixava, tentando alinhar os corpos, esfregando sem querer o próprio joelho entre as suas pernas. Por um momento, pensou em te colocar em cima do balcão, mas provavelmente você bateria a cabeça no armário de cima. Ele preferia não te deixar sem cabeça. Literalmente.

O pensamento o fez rir contra a sua boca, e você o contemplou, séria, sem entender a risada repentina.

— Que foi? — questionou, o rosto quente, vermelho, pondo a língua no céu da boca quando ele impulsionou o joelho um pouquinho para cima. Aquilo fez algo com o seu centro, uma provocação pura. Sentia que desmaiaria de tesão a qualquer instante, se isso fosse possível.

— Tá agindo como se quisesse me dar. É isso mesmo? — Ele perguntou, cessando o movimento de repente. Você voltou a raciocinar, mesmo que, dois segundos antes, estivesse se esfregando contra ele como uma adolescente descobrindo a puberdade. O vocabulário chulo te fez desviar o olhar e dar um sorrisinho. Ele sabia que você ficava gamadinha quando ele era safado contigo.

— Espero que sua roupa de cama não seja do Homem-Aranha — admitiu.

Mark te beijou e te conduziu meio cegamente, num mar de beijos e mãos entrelaçadas, até o quarto dele. A luz da lua entrava pelas janelas, deixando-o ainda mais bonito e reluzente. Mark te empurrou gentilmente para a cama com uma só mão, e você caiu feito pluma, olhando-o como se ele fosse sua única salvação, como se fosse um lago de água doce no meio de um deserto extenso. Ou talvez fosse só porque você queria desesperadamente que ele te comesse. Lentamente. Do jeitinho que os beijos de vocês fluíam: delicados.

— Nenhum Homem-Aranha, viu? Não sou narcisista assim — brincou.

Você riu, o nervosismo se esvaindo enquanto ele se curvava sobre você, beijando sua pele, afastando a alcinha do vestido preto e deslizando os lábios pela região escondida. Doce feito balinha. Suas pernas já estavam separadas, abrigando o corpo masculino entre elas. Foi o suficiente para que ele passasse a mão cuidadosamente pelo interior da sua coxa, subindo em êxtase enquanto seus lábios encontravam sua pele, seu rosto, sua bochecha, o lóbulo da sua orelha, que ele mordeu de leve. Você se arrepiou, afastando o cabelo, com medo de estragar tudo ao fazê-lo engolir algum fio. Provavelmente, deixou aquilo escapar em voz alta, porque Mark sorriu para você.

— Tá tudo bem. Quero te engolir mesmo — murmurou.

Ele desviou a atenção do seu torso, ficando de joelhos para segurar sua calcinha pelo cós e arrastá-la para fora do seu corpo. Você prendeu a respiração, e ele percebeu imediatamente, acariciando sua barriga por cima do tecido fininho do vestido preto e beijando sua boca.

— Relaxa, tá? Enxerga isso como uma sessão no ginecologista.

— Mark, eu definitivamente não sinto tesão pela minha ginecologista — você riu, surpresa com o choque térmico entre a mão dele e sua vulva. Sem perceber, abriu um pouco mais as pernas, permitindo que ele adentrasse um dedo com facilidade, só com sua lubrificação natural. Mas você já sentia que era demais.

— Tô tentando te deixar menos tensa. Não vai rolar se essa bucetinha não estiver bem aberta pra me receber, amor.

Morreria sem admitir que adorava o palavreado. Dois dedos entraram fácil, e você emitiu um barulhinho gostoso que fez Mark sorrir, beijando seu pescoço, a pintinha solitária que residia ali, um dos pontos preferidos dele.

Sentiu quando ergueu o quadril, indo de encontro à palma dele, rebolando, tentando de alguma forma se livrar do nozinho que se formava no seu ventre. Seus olhos nem estavam mais abertos. Mark se empenhava, afastando o máximo que podia seu joelho, te acertando tão bem que te deixava meio desesperada, o interior pulsando, engolindo-o, embora ele dissesse que seria o contrário.

Mesmo com apenas os dedos, ele te possuía fundo, te fazendo sair da órbita, os olhos revirando a cada investida. Saía com os dedos lambuzados de você e voltava, inserindo, esticando, te fazendo dele só com a mão. Provavelmente, você arrancaria os lençóis quando o caralho duro estivesse ali, cumprindo ainda melhor a tarefa dos dedos longos.

Mark beijou sua boca, permitiu que você mordesse o lábio inferior dele quando suas pernas cessaram a tremedeira. Ele parou o movimento devagar, te acostumando a retornar para a estaca zero, sem o esfrega-esfrega dos dedos no seu clitóris inchado. Mas ele queria te chupar. Precisava tirar a dúvida que inundava seu cérebro: você era mesmo doce feito a balinha rosa?

— Acho que pegar a prainha seria ideal — você sussurrou, segurando o rosto dele, as palmas em cada bochecha afogueada. Mark deixou um selinho meigo na sua boca, te observando com as orbes dos olhos dilatadas, feito duas frutinhas exóticas.

— Se você diz, rainha.

@sunspycy. Todos os direitos reservados.

[hexjulia]

"Researchers found microplastics in soil deposits more than seven meters (23 feet) underground, which were deposited in the first or second century CE and excavated in the 1980s, a team led by researchers from the University of York in the United Kingdom said in a statement published Friday.

In total, the study identified 16 different microplastic polymer types in contemporary and archived soil samples, the statement adds.

[...]

“This feels like an important moment, confirming what we should have expected: that what were previously thought to be pristine archaeological deposits, ripe for investigation, are in fact contaminated with plastics, and that this includes deposits sampled and stored in the late 1980s,” John Schofield, a professor and director of studies in the University of York’s Department of Archaeology, said in the statement."

[...]

“Our best-preserved remains—for example, the Viking finds at Coppergate (in the city of York)— were in a consistent anaerobic waterlogged environment for over 1000 years, which preserved organic materials incredibly well,” he said in the statement.

“The presence of microplastics can and will change the chemistry of the soil, potentially introducing elements which will cause the organic remains to decay. If that is the case, preserving archaeology in situ may no longer be appropriate.”

[ashfae]

Edit on 5/2/2025: I have mixed feelings about aspects of this essay these days but have chosen to keep it up and pinned as I'm still happy with my analysis even if I'm furious at NG, who is mentioned several times. TW for that. Argh.

-------------

The thing about romance is, it makes a good story.

As soon as NG described season 2 as "quiet, gentle, romantic" I figured we'd be in for it, because as he's the first to point out, writers are liars. And the best way to deceive is with truth.

Season 2 is romantic. The trappings of romance are everywhere. Crowley tries to set up Nina and Maggie by trapping them under an awning during a rainstorm, a classic cinematic bonding technique. Aziraphale's chosen method comes from his beloved books: the ball, the dancing, appearing as a pair in public, hands held as you twirl gracefully with your heart thrilled and racing. If they can set up a sensational kiss that will unlock the happy ever after. They've lived on earth, they've studied the tropes, they know how romance works.

The problem is a story is only a story.

Nina and Maggie had the classic romantic setup completely by accident before Aziraphale and Crowley ever began trying to interfere with them. They get locked in Nina's coffeeshop. They can't escape or communicate with anyone else, they end up talking by candlelight because there's no electricity, Nina offers wine. Maggie mentions how she'd hoped for a chance to talk to Nina, and now here they are. It's every bit as much a standard as what Aziraphale and Crowley attempt to arrange. Blanket scenarios galore exist because of that starting point. We love that story. And there's nothing wrong with that.

But it's still only a story, it's not enough. Because once that moment of connection is over, however lovely it was, all the rest of the world comes flooding back in in the form of dozens of angry text messages. Nina's messy entrapping relationship hasn't magically gone away just because she and Maggie shared a romantic encounter.

And it's so tempting think oh well, that's easy. We'll just give them more romantic encounters and eventually those will overwhelm the rest of the baggage. Must do, because it'll make them fall in love, and once they realize they're in love that trumps all other considerations, right? So it'll be fine. Love Conquers All.

Neil also mentioned Pride and Prejudice.

Darcy knows he's in love early on and makes a disasterous proposal that shows that he has no understanding of Elizabeth's perspective, possibly hasn't even thought about it. They've been meeting in forest lanes for walks, conversing, had tete-a-tetes in the sitting room, danced at a ball. And while his turn of phrase isn't as flattering as he thinks, he's still offering her everything he thinks she wants and needs: affection, security, his good name, wealth, an escape from the embarrassments of her situation, the world. How can there be anything to object to? Why would anyone ever refuse so much of value?

Elizabeth quite rightly cuts him to pieces. He lashes back with a few hard truths of his own and they separate. During that separation, he thinks and he learns. He takes to heart the criticisms she offered, re-examines his assumptions, opens his eyes. Thinks about her perspective and how sometimes the only difference between pride and arrogance is where you're standing. He does the work. When they meet again he tries to demonstrate that he's learned--not in order to court her again (yet), but because the only real apology he can offer, the only one that would have weight, is to show that he's grown, he listened to her. He changed.

Elizabeth of course has her own journey, accepting that many of her own conclusions about Darcy were erroneous because they were formed without her having the full picture to hand, and once she's done that she has to apply it to her own situation as well. She loves her family, but they do place her at a disadvantage on a number of levels, leading eventually to full-out disaster as her younger sister carelessly ruins all of their reputations. It's hard to admit, it's mortifying, but Darcy was offering her a great deal she needs. His offer did have worth for all that she dismissed it as an insult. And as she learns to value his own character more highly, and then as she sees that he did listen to her even though she insulted him so thoroughly...well, she grows too. And when they do eventually come together it's not because of courting and balls. There's a big romantic gesture in his rescue of her sister but even that isn't why they'll get their happy ever after. It was just the catalyst for the conversation. They win because they've learned how to understand each other and how to communicate for the future. How they can strengthen and support each other, how to balance their strengths and weaknesses. The films leave them at the wedding, but the book shows a bit of their marriage too, and during it they keep learning from each other. Their relationship is held up as a superior love story for good reasons.

The end of season one was romantic too. Crowley stopped time rather than face a world where Aziraphale would never speak to him again, Aziraphale walked into hell to protect Crowley, they dined at the Ritz and toasted the world. But then they stopped. Sure they spent time together, talked, enjoyed each other's company. But if they were talking about important things would Crowley still be living in his car? They had a bit of respite but all that real world baggage that exists outside of the romantic moment hasn't been faced, none of it. Four or five years sounds like a long while but for beings who are quite literally older than the earth? That's just an intermission.

Nina's relationship ends, leaving her with a tangled mess; Maggie realises the sweet dream of love she's been longing for isn't as important as the real Nina. They talk. They plan. Nina will sort through her life, get closure, figure out what went wrong with Lindsay and what she wants from a relationship, learn how to ask for respect instead of just bending under her partner's demands. Maggie will support Nina the way Nina needs, which sometimes means helping her get oat milk for the shop and sometimes means giving her processing space. They're on the same page; they're going to do the work. That's why most likely they'll succeed. To quote one of my favourite fanfics: it's not happily ever after, but it's a chance. It's all going to be okay. (The Profane Comedy by Mussimm, who absolutely nailed this theme)

The romance is nice, it's lovely. We need it to keep ourselves going. To give ourselves the dreams that help us get through the days and nights. But it's not the relationship. It's not enough on its own. The wedding can be the grandest most beautiful ceremony ever with doves flying and sweeping music and bells ringing, but that doesn't guarantee the marriage will last.

Crowley and Aziraphale have had their romantic gestures, oodles of them. One wing raised to protect the other from falling stars, another from rain. Shared ground, shared interests, hands offered in friendship and held on a bus. They've tried to get to the same page, they really have. They just aren't there yet. The biggest most important things still haven't been talked about, and season 2 showed there are even more of those big important things than we'd realised.

The show paints Maggie as Aziraphale's foil and Nina as Crowley's, even to the point of Nina casually calling Maggie 'angel'. But Aziraphale's baggage is Nina's. The toxic relationship has to be processed and understood and closed, and it hasn't been, despite season one. Lindsay never really liked Nina very much, for all that they tried to keep her trapped; Heaven never really liked Aziraphale very much for all that he believed in it. They both let themselves be used. But Lindsay left Nina and went to their sister's, whereas now the head of Heaven has reached out to Aziraphale and said here, we can fix this, you can fix this, don't you want to fix this? Others are already writing about that and maybe I'll add to it later, not sure. And Crowley, like Maggie, has had a sweet dream that he has to set aside. Maybe he'll be able to pick it up again eventually, maybe not. But sometimes you offer support by buying oat milk or rescuing your beloved from the legions of hell, and sometimes you do it by standing back while they sort through their shit.

Quiet, gentle, romantic. It was.

But that's only part of the story. Now they have to do the work. They thought they had, but they were wrong, because there's so much they just hadn't touched yet and tried to cover over with relief and sleight of hand and alcohol and forgiveness. The apology dance doesn't mean much without showing that you listened and learned. They've faced so much trauma already and that should have been enough, we wanted it to be enough and so did they and it's such a blow for it to turn out that there's still more to do, that the baggage hasn't just gone away and can't be hidden under blankets or soothed with cocoa. The texts are still coming in and demanding answers.

But it'll be okay. It will. It's still a chance. And one that in the long run makes them better, builds something real that lasts.

The best stories, the ones that last longest and become classics, are the ones that don't end with the kiss under the awning or the blanket scenario or the wedding. They're the ones that heal us while the characters heal themselves. It's hard to accept that there's still more to do. Harder to imagine how it can possibly work out. And yes, bloody frustrating to wait and see.

And we'll get through that interim by telling even more stories. Because the story is never just a story. It's how we get through the work, it's what we tell ourselves so we can do the damn work. Stories are what we cling to and how we remind ourselves we're human and connect. A book is a person you can carry with you. We're not alone, none of us, stories connect us because we love them and see ourselves in them, which means we see each other.

Aziraphale's back up in Heaven to deal with his unfinished baggage; Crowley left his behind long ago and it's clearly going to come back and bite him in the arse however much he tries to go his own way. And they can't help each other with that. Not yet.

But they'll get there. So will we.

[castielsprostate]

eddie brock, in shock, wet and pathetic, carefully and gently cradling the tiniest, goopiest, little heap of symbiote, their symbiote, in his hands and venom looking at it with the softest, love-filled eyes

[randomdog]

Some draw some sketch.

[hacash]

Irving introducing himself simply as ‘John’ when all other pretensions and titles fall away. Irving nearly crying to meet the Netsilik. Irving describing the men he commands as ‘my friends’. Irving sharing a form of communion with the Netsilik. Irving wanting to repay their kindness. Irving taking joy from seeing his new buddies exploring his technology for the first time. Irving actually laughing. Irving bonding with people who are so distant from everything he’s been raised to believe.

Fuck. Me.

[cuterefaction]

Trektober Day 21 - Canon Event Fix-It. I have a lot of these (Dr Pulaski stays and has a rivalry with Crusher, Sulu is in all of season 2, Tasha survives the evil puddle, Ziyal lives and dates Jake, Julian goes to Cardassia at the end of DS9, etc etc etc) but this will always be my biggie.

Like, seriously. Miles. You are there. You literally saved a person that medical science could not save (albeit with Geordi and Data teaming up) only a few years ago. Did you not remember? Can you not tell Julian to put your buddy in stasis for a few hours while you reprogram a single computer?

This of course brings up a bit of a major problem with Trek. We've seen so many different issues be solved that when they crop up later we can look at them and go '... don't you know how to deal with this?' - especially when it involves the same characters.

I'm seeing Miles in my mind's eye being at dinner a decade later and suddenly just freezing up and slapping himself in the face.

Anyway. We could have double Dax. It would be EASY. Jadzia would be such a good and terrible influence on Ezri. People would be constantly so confused.

This was a bit of a bugger to do in one day for the challenge so I may draw it more coherently in the future.

[wickedtrio]

honestly the wicked thropple genuinely devastates me cause as much as they are made for each other, they equally are made to fall apart in tragedy. there is no happy ending with the three of them together, but there's also no happy ending that is without the three of them together. there’s no such thing as a happy ending that doesn’t include the three of them together, not for their characters and what they've searched for within each other throughout their stories. but that could never be, and there is no happy ending for them (and I don't know what came first in that circle of suck). and it all works to tell the story, sure, of a broken system that wears down the people trying to live and love and make things better. but, fuck, their "love triangle" is actually just a doomed ecosystem

[q1ngqve]

fox! aventurine who lies about being inexperienced so you offer to teach him how to make a woman cum <3

fox! aventurine who pretends to not know where your clit is so you’d guide his eager fingers to your puffy clit, using the pad of his index finger to draw slow circles

fox! aventurine who gives you big bright eyes like a little puppy when you tell him his fingers feel good and he’s a natural

fox! aventurine who has to unzip his pants because his dick is hurting so badly from how hard he is when you let him put two fingers in you

fox! aventurine who asks if he can taste you when you cum on his fingers

fox! aventurine who sticks his tongue into you while his thumb plays with your clit instead of tasting you from his fingers which was what you thought he meant

fox! aventurine who makes you cum on his tongue in no time like a pro

fox! aventurine who can’t hold himself back any longer, pushes himself into you because you are just so fucking warm and innocent!

fox! aventurine who cooes into your ear telling you you’re taking him so well

fox! aventurine who laughs when you look at him with betrayal in your teary eyes, fingers coming up to pinch at your cheeks, asking you if your parents ever taught you to never trust men, much less a fox! hybrid

fox! aventurine who pumps you full of his cum as he apologizes, telling you he’s sorry for lying and he would a 100% do it again

[granadolis]

i want themboth

[missowo]

Kris variant,,,

Doorrune kris and Bunny Player belong to me.

Angel game belongs to @angelsgame-au

Twinrune belongs to @akanemnon

Reconnecting - @purplebehittindifferent

Chara timelines - @lilybug-02

[littleaipom]

Been rewatching one of my fave shows ever while showing it to my sister. trollhunters my beloved