#first writing of 2018

[tangledinink]

:000 happy one year of i'm sorry, teenage mutant what now?

[bbcphile]

MLC Amnesia Fic (What's Sealed Away)

It was one thing to know what his qi felt like in his meridians–although he didn’t know what his neili was called, only that it had a name–and to know that, if he started running his sword forms, his arms and legs would guide him where his mind couldn’t. Muscle memory felt familiar. Reliable. But this? This free-floating knowledge, not connected with any event, any memory, any movement or motion? Just facts appearing in his mind? Assertions he was supposed to accept unquestioningly as truth? With no memory of how he learned them? Nothing to prove their validity? He clenched his hand around his dao’s scabbard. There had to be a better way than this.

NOTES:

I had a ton of feels about the differences between DFS and a-Fei, different types of memory and what is and isn’t lost in the sheer mindfuckery that is amnesia (very loosely inspired by my own experiences with amnesia), and a desire to explain some of the weird behaviors in the amnesia arc (why a-Fei spends so much time away from everyone else in the Mountains Red arc–-which LLH justifies with a lie about a-Fei sleeping instead, why LLH never tells FDB that it’s dangerous and painful for a-Fei to get his memories back, etc.), and thus this fic was born.

TW/CW: amnesia, body horror (finding the mind control bug), panic attack (to skip the panic attack, stop at “he pressed his shaking hands against the sheets” and start again at “His pulse finally started to slow.”)

Thanks to @momosandlemonsoda for being an amazing beta reader!!

Relationship: Di Feisheng/Li Lianhua (with hints of future difanghua)

[keirawantstocry]

With Fit’s recent Stardew Valley streams (and I think Tubbo’s too? Haven’t checked up on him for awhile) Maybe a Fitpacbo Stardew Valley fic?

I don't know anything about stardew but I'm going to try my best!! 

Tubbo loved living on a farm. He honestly did. At first when Fit had said he had inherited a farm in a small town and he wanted to check it out with all of them, Tubbo had expected to be back in the city within the week. But that wasn't what happened. 

Sunny loved the countryside. For hours and hours she ran around the fields and forests with Ramon and Richas at her heels. They begged to keep the house as the boys stood behind her with big sad eyes. Very quickly they converted Pac to their side, leaving only Tubbo and Fit as the voices of reason. 

“Wellllll,” Fit said in a drawn out voice. “Technically we could stay as long as we like.” 

“ARE YOU SIDING WITH THEM RIGHT NOW?” 

Fit made a sheepish expression. “Oh, cmon Tubbo. It's nice out here.” He wrapped his arm around his boyfriend, knocking their heads together. 

Tubbo groaned. “I hate you guys.”

“No you don't,” Pac said with a smile as he swung Ramón up into his arms. “Because we can win you over. Watch.” 

In unison the kids all stuck out their bottom lips, dipping their eyebrows low on their faces to look up at him with the saddest eyes. Tubbo hesitated as he saw literal tears in Pac’s eyes. “Fine!” he said, throwing his hands up. “You guys fucking win.” 

The kids cheered. 

Tubbo grew to love it. He loved the sun beating down on his back during a long day working on machines. He loved watching Pac and Fit bicker over where to put the seeds in their garden. He loved laying out in the grass explaining to Ramón how different machines they used on the farm worked. He loved watching the kids run around with the chickens, feeding them old corn and bits of grass. But most of all, he loved how small the house was. 

It was a strange thing to like perhaps. Odd that he would prefer the close proximity. But he did. There was something so incredibly intimate about the way Pac pulled him into bed to lay out on his body as Fit scored loudly beside them. There was something about the way Sunny would run in after having a nightmare and curl up next to Pac who would sing to her in Portuguese until she fell asleep. 

It felt like home in a way he hadn't felt in ages. 

And if a stupid farm in the countryside was what got him that feeling then so be it. 

[thebattybunch]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: DCU (Comics), DCU, Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Tim Drake/Jason Todd Characters: Tim Drake (DCU), Jason Todd Additional Tags: Canon-Typical Violence, continuity hodge podge, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, dubiously short refractory period, Also a lot of talking Summary:

The thing is, he'd been feeling it for a while now, this pull between them. Jason's moon calling to the waves of his ocean. Or perhaps it was the other way around. 'One day,' he thought. 'One day this tension will break and the waves will crash upon the shore. Maybe they'll leave nothing but a wreckage in their wake.'

--

Tim has a rough night, Jason makes it better.

[kazaleas]

Let the world burn [Donnie to GN reader short]

Im not an excellent writer, and I enjoy writing but my grammar isnt on point and I kind wrote this half asleep, but I was bored! If you dislike, you can scroll! No biggie!

(based off a character ai bot, Link below)

Donnie let's the world Burn for you.

[Warn: Slight obsessive behavior, burning / mentions of burning / fire, etc. Romantic Relationship, Donnie X Reader, Barely proofread, first time fully posting a writing, Short!]

Sitting at the table of huesos was unlike any other.

Pizza places, you mean. But of course, it was like every other day here. You all finished a successful mission and decided to celebrate the night with dinner at the best pizza place in the city of New York and your 4 closest friends, and Donnie. Nights like these, the ones that you loved with all your heart. Loud and lively chatter from each brother, you and April's quiet gossip between conversations and fights between Leo and Mikey over the last slice, Donnies grimaces as he bashes Leo for his weird, wriggling order of pizza sitting on his plate. Yes, nights like these were so casual and so favored that you could remember them even 15 years from now.

One difference was a topic that came up, a topic that sparked out of Jupiter Jim hero movies and a small argument between the brothers, April, and you. The same topic that struck your mind and lingered even as you had gotten home.

“I couldn't just ‘let the world burn’ for one person, why would you even suggest that?”

You had tuned back in to when Raph was in his hero mode. Leo had asked the group a question of: “would you let the world burn for the person you love the most”, And of course that was answer.

Everyone came to a disagreement, except Donnie. He was the only one who didn't answer, the only one who stayed silent when the topic appeared, and looked down at his lap instead, stim twitching his fingers. You noticed, but didn't say anything until you had all left and it was just you and Donnie in the car. The drive was quiet, seeing how he stared the same way he had been at dinner, and you questioned it.

“Donnie?”

“Hm?”

“Would you let the world burn for me?”

And there it was, that look in his eye. The way it darkened, the way it looked almost empty. You felt as if you just asked that question where you would ask if he'd still love you if you were a worm or bug or something. You stared at him as he drove, and he delivered no answer. His fingers tightened on the leather of the steering wheel, the way his knuckles went white from how hard he was gripping, and how his eyes narrowed as if he was contemplating something in that intelligent, messy head of his. You let it go, looking out your window as buildings and lights passed like wind, not going back to pull an answer out of him.

Eventually you made it home, the car shutting off and painting the house in a color as dark as the night that had fallen in the sky. Wind, the sound of cars in the distance, honking of cars and shouts of annoyed drivers, but no Donnie. Donnie was still quiet, unusually quiet.

It wasn't until you made it into the house doors, your coat resting on the holder and your shoes kicked off onto the front door mat to keep the hardwood clean, the weight of Donnies emotions on you. You could barely see him in the dark, the lights weren't turned on when you walked in, and you found it stupid as to why you just didn't turn them on yourself. You heard quiet shuffling, quiet breaths filling the silence in the room that weighed on your shoulders in pounds. You felt two arms wrap around you, turning your body to meet Donnies hold, his grip almost possessive by the way his fingers dug into your sides, pressing into your skin so tightly that it could hurt, if it weren't for the fact you liked it. His eyes were almost glowing if you were looking correctly, and he was looking at you like he wanted to absolutely wreck you. 3 fingers pressed into your sides, one hand sliding up your waist so slowly, like he was worshiping the skin he was touching, like he was trying to process the gold he held in his palms, like he was promising himself something you couldn't pick apart with your own mind and eyes alone. His hand trailed up to your neck, his fingers going to the side as his thumb pressed against your throat, gently pressing, studying the way your pulse quickened and your breaths grew heavy. He processed the way you reacted to how he was touching you, staring at you, admiring you. His eyes searched for you, you could see them moving as you stared, he was still thinking and contemplating, and you wish you could open his mind and just read it like a book, figure out each thought he had and take it as your own. His hand eventually slid up to your chin, squeezing slightly between his fingers, tilting your head up so you could see his gaze more easily, so he didn't have to angle his head so far that it began to hurt. You were pliable under his touch, like warm clay that was ready to bend and shape into whatever he wanted.. He swallowed thickly at the sight of you, how you were letting him do this and not even fighting back. You enjoyed it, he knew that, he knew it was heart that you lived for moments like these. It was still stuck in your head, though, it was still ringing through your mind.

“Would you let the world burn for me?”

That's all you could think of while he stood there and held you. In all honesty, he couldn't quite figure out what made him grab you like this, what made him want to hold you like this, why he couldn't say anything. He was a hero, he was good. He saved lives everyday in New York, the thoughts he's having now shouldn't be there at all, because he's meant to be a hero for a life he didn't even ask to be welcomed into. But you, you made it feel worth it, you made every fight feel like there was something left to do, something that still held meaning in all its glory, and he was so possessive over it. He would do anything to keep this treasure he has, and those thoughts start to seem as warm as the flames that he would engulf this town in if it were you on the line.

“Donnie?”

You ask, seeing how he's disassociated from himself after thinking about you. He quickly regains his mind and connects it back to his body, his eyes fluttering for a quick moment while he tightens his grip again to ensure you're stayed again him entirely

“..Donnie..?”

You ask again. He loved that. He loved the way his name sounded in your mouth, he loved the way it rolled off your tongue so easily, the way it made him feel warm and tingly, the way it brushed his mind and woke him up because it was you and your voice that made him feel so.. so.. everything..

“Would you let the world burn for me?..”

That was it. That was what you wanted. You wanted to have him answer the one question that was wrapped in your mind, wrapping around in your brain and squeezing every other thought out like a raincloud, fogging your mind. He understood that, he knew you needed peace of mind, he knew you needed a question left answered instead of pushed aside. He knew what he wanted to say, what he wanted to feel, how good it felt to go against everything he worked for just to please himself for the way he loved you.

“I'd let the world burn. I'd let the world burn for you.”

He whispers. His tone quiet, his hands tightened, his breath shallow and his heart full of you and only you. But it was only when you realized he wasn't exaggerating when your thoughts cleared, and you blinked back into consciousness.

It wasn't until you saw the city swallowed by yellow orange flames, and him at his knees in front of you, that you knew he was ready to sacrifice everything to keep you. You're his.

[icewindandboringhorror]

boy in silly sitting positions compilation

[silverquillsideas]

*Headspace ~ seeing things from the character's POV, feel what they are feeling at that moment (romantic / sexual / other intense emotions, etc)

(Please reblog to spread! 🥺)

[overdevelopedglasses]

OC-tober Day 3 - Old OC

I guess we'll keep the trend of TTRPG characters with the first one I ever made! Norian "Nor" Montrin, a tiefling sorcerer who uh. Is really sad, good GOD. He's 4 years old but acts like he's 10. He's a bit of the stereotypical first D&D character (doesn't trust anyone, likes being alone) but also he's 4 and is traumatized and he does have a fake personality that IS actually cooperative so.

I do have some art of him, but credit where credit is due ofc. This art is by u/jebusbeltran23 on Reddit (i couldnt find another way to credit them other than reddit, sadly). If they somehow see this, I always remember how special my little guy is since he got his own art <3

[wuxian-vs-wangji]

Every time Prapai gives Sky medicine, he's narcoleptic inside 5 minutes.

[blizzardfluffykpop]

alright~ a few updates about everything! so this weekend I'll be seeing changkyun in chicago- so I prolly won't be posting until after I'm alive again from that 😂😅 (I am vv excited about it- I just know I'll be vv tired when I return home). Anyways, I have a few fics in the works~ one of them that is a request 🤭 I'm vv excited to work on them! But I think I'm going to change my masterlist a bit when I come back. I'm going to retire a few groups from the main masterlist and I've been debating for the past year about it... But I think I'm going to add a yearly masterlist- So it would go from most recent to the beginning of this year~

I'm also thinking about changing my pfp- I haven't been really into stray kids for uh... years- But I will be sure to make an update about that if I go thru with that too- (It may be ji changmin next 🫣🤭)

Anyways those are my few updates 🥰💖

[glupshittostan]

back 2 writing fallout 4 fic as though it’s 2017 again. im bursting at the seams so here are the ones I’ve finished so far if anyone is inch rested:

the bloody gallery - the Sole Survivor is stuck in the Pickman gallery fighting for her life against some intruding raiders, while also fighting to find Danse again

state house of affairs - Sole and Danse reluctantly go to Hancock for some mission help and end up spending the night in the State House. bow chicka wow wow

and I got some more on the way 🙇‍♀️

[invisible-key]

Cherries and Milk

Kinks: emetophilia, stuffing

OCs: Trey

Summary: Trey likes to puke. He heard that combining cherries and milk makes one sick, and he's determined to try it on himself, with a generous dose.

Word count: 1.2k words

(Contains detailed descriptions of nausea and vomiting.)

==========================

Trey was on his way home from grocery shopping, when he passed a stall in the street selling fresh cherries. For some reason, he remembered the old wives' tale that drinking milk with cherries makes you sick. This thought made him stop in his tracks. He looked over his shoulder at the stall, pondering. He hasn't thrown up in a while so testing this legend felt tempting. With racing heart, he bought two kilograms of the fruit, imagining how sick he will be after eating all of them.

When he came home, he put the other food in the fridge and placed the bag full of cherries on the bed next to himself. He was nibbling on them while reading a magazine, hardly noticing the mass of fruits building up inside his stomach. 

When he was finished with the cherries, he felt significantly full. He patted his tummy, as if he was thanking it for containing all the fruit. He closed the magazine and got up from bed. Despite the tightness he felt in his stomach, he was only half done. He went to the fridge and took out two one-liter bottles of milk. He unscrewed the lid on the first one and started gulping it with admirable speed. He managed to get down three quarters of the first bottle before he started to feel a strong aversion towards drinking more, forcing him to slow down. He lowered the bottle and sighed. His body had finally noticed he was up to no good. He put the bottle back to his lips and forced himself to continue drinking despite his instincts screaming at him to stop. He managed to finish the first bottle, but the hardest part was just about to come - drinking the second one. He opened the next bottle, aware of the nauseating pressure in his stomach. He tried to drink quickly, but he was not able to swallow it. While he managed to fill his mouth with milk, he felt an instinctive aversion towards sending it down his throat, as his body was already overfilled with the white liquid. He had to force himself to swallow with sheer willpower. After a few reluctant gulps, he emptied his mouth and quickly filled it with milk again, and the cycle continued.

When he reached a half of the second bottle, he felt that he was not able to go on. “Come on…” he told himself. “Remember why you’re doing it…” He rubbed his stomach, which was now visibly protruding under his shirt, a stark contrast to his skinny frame, and reminded himself of the sweet relief he is going to feel while sending all this food out of his body. He could have stopped now - he was overstuffed enough - but he wanted to be able to say: “I drank two liters of milk and ate two kilograms of cherries and it’s gonna make me so sick”. The thought of torturing his body with such a large amount of incompatible food was making him aroused.

He tried to ignore the signals from his stomach telling him that it was already filled to the limit and poured more white liquid into his mouth. He had to take it slow, take a sip every now and then while continuing to flip through his magazine.

It might have taken another half an hour until he finished all the milk. He rubbed his enlarged belly and let out a long sigh. He could hardly believe he managed to get down two kilograms of cherries and two liters of milk. He lied on his back and he could feel the mass of his stomach pushing down on the organs underneath, making him feel queasy. He was excited, his heart beating quickly in his chest. He had to breathe heavily, his diaphragm pushing on his belly, further increasing the pressure in his stomach with every intake of breath.

He kept lying, and breathing, enjoying the nausea every breath awakened in his stomach. After a while, the pressure in his stomach began to be accompanied by a dull pain. The nausea increased and he could feel spit gathering in his mouth. He was kind of starting to regret forcing himself to eat all those cherries and milk. His stomach was not happy about it at all. It was gurgling and sloshing uncomfortably. He was not sure whether it was because of the sheer volume he devoured - or was the lethal combination getting to work? 

The amount of saliva in his mouth rapidly increased, accompanied by a strong acidic taste, which prompted him to get up and hurry to the bathroom with a hand covering his trembling lips. He kneeled in front of the toilet bowl and put up the lid just in time when a strong wave of pinkish milk escaped his mouth and splashed in the water underneath, filling it with floating chunks of cherry. He hardly had time to breathe when his muscles contracted again, pushing onto his overfilled stomach, leaving it no other choice than to violently send its contents up his esophagus and out of his mouth. Another wave fell into the water, coloring it more pink. Trey coughed and gasped for breath, but his body didn't plan to let him rest. With another forceful spasm, his stomach sent more undigested food up to his mouth. Trey coughed it out into the toilet bowl. He finally had the chance to breathe. His heart was pounding like crazy, and he felt pressure increasing down in his pants… He got up and went to the sink to drink some water. He looked at himself in the mirror. His hair was messy and his cheeks had a tint of red from the straining he had to exert over the toilet bowl. 

Yet he could feel he was not done. He heard ominous gurgling from his belly and his diminished nausea was coming right back at him. The relief he felt after getting rid of a portion of his food was only temporary. 

He went to kneel back in front of the toilet. He closed his eyes and breathed, trying to calm his gurgling stomach. Yet he could feel his nausea rising. He found himself having to swallow increasingly often. He sighed and leaned over the toilet. He was welcomed with a sight of cherry pieces floating in milky water. The acidic smell made him even more sick and he took a deep breath preparing for things to come. His back arched as his belly contracted and made him throw up more milk that mixed with the older vomit. 

He really shouldn't have eaten so many cherries and flushed them with an overly large volume of milk. His stomach was strongly disagreeing with his actions and expressing its discontent violently. It contracted again, adding more undigested milk to the mixture. 

The volume of waves was decreasing, as his stomach was getting empty. Trey hurled for one last time, yet only a small amount came out of his open mouth and dropped into the water. It was over. 

Trey was overcome with a feeling of blissful relief. His suffering was over, as his body had gotten rid of all the food that was making him sick. He sat in front of the toilet and enjoyed the peace. 

He became aware that his trousers are somewhat tight for him in the crotch area. The fun isn't over yet, he thought, as he leaned his back on the wall and unzipped his pants…

[cautiously0ptimistic]

“Had I ever seen anything so beautiful? I’d have to take the answer to that question to my grave now.”

[kanene-yaaay]

Look. Look.

I need to get it out of my system, okay? I just need to. Immediately

Himmel + cheer up tickles

The reason?

I rest my case. Thank you for coming to my Ted talk I am slowing descending into madness here

[comradecowplant]

I was on board for the season 1 nostalgia circle jerk (ily Seven ❤❤❤), I could even overlook the Interesting "put him in a scifimagic flesh & blood android body that will have zero further consequences to either Picard's personal journey or the greater scientific reality of such an invention" choice, but season 2 skywalker family legacy "Picard's ancestor is so important that she needs a secret time agency body guard thatfornoreasonlooksliketheladyhehasawilltheywonttheywith" baloney is not doing it for me. The entire season so far coulda been a TNG Q/time travel shenanigans 2-parter. Best part is the toxic yuri between Borg Queen and doc "we've got bad Marvel one-liners at home" jurati, otherwise I'm sadly getting pretty bored with Picard.

[icewindandboringhorror]

The evil slow creep of it being like "haha these will just be quick little side quests, not much effort at all!" and then noticing each one is getting progressively longer than the last, thus no longer being minimal effort.. auGh....