#i don't think i can ping you which is fine

[owtechnolich]

Outer Wilds vines part 1.

Someone (@tippertot) convinced me I should put these here so I am. (It didn't take very much convincing.)

Anyway here they are.

[programmedradly]

As someone who volunteers for a website whose userbase has had their fair share of meltdowns over design changes big and small over the years, I find all the hate directed @ staff incredibly upsetting to see.

I don't mean the "I hate the new layout" posts, you can hate the new layout (I use the iOS app pretty much exclusively, which works fine for me), but I just saw a post on my dash that had four copies of an image with the words "I WILL KILL YOU" in it, and called @ staff "YOU STUPID BASTARDS", and apparently people think this is okay? It had 11k notes?

This is literally a free website you're using, for free, to upload and look at tons of media, which costs money, and there are real people trying to keep it alive somehow, who aren't actually out to get you? From all I've seen, they're listening to feedback, and trying to balance the quirky fun side of Tumblr with the cold hard reality of needing to make money. They're also real human beings, Jesus fucking Christ.

Begging you all to take a deep breath before pinging @ staff in your all-caps rants, and then not. Also please don't send death threats or yell at support; the people directly dealing with users are usually not responsible for design changes.

[inkskinned]

you're grabbing lunch with a nice man and he gives you that strange grimace-smile that's popular right now; an almost sardonic "twist" of his mouth while he looks literally down on you. it looks like he practiced the move as he leans back, arms folded. he just finished reciting the details of NFTs to you and explaining Oppenheimer even though he only watched a youtube about it and hasn't actually seen it. you are at the bottom of your wine glass.

you ask the man across from you if he has siblings, desperately looking for a topic. literally anything else.

he says i don't like small talk. and then he smiles again, watching you.

a few years ago, you probably would have said you're above celebrity gossip, but honestly, you've been kind of enjoying the dumb shit of it these days. with the rest of the earth burning, there's something familiar and banal about dragging ariana grande through the mud. you think about jeanette mccurdy, who has often times gently warned the world she's not as nice as she appears. you liked i'm glad my mom died but it made you cry a lot.

he doesn't like small talk, figure out something to say.

you want to talk about responsibility, and how ariana grande is only like 6 days older than you are - which means she just turned 30 and still dresses and acts like a 13 year old, but like sexy. there's something in there about the whole thing - about insecurity, and never growing up, and being sexualized from a young age.

people have been saying that gay people are groomers. like, that's something that's come back into the public. you have even said yourself that it's just ... easier to date men sometimes. you would identify as whatever the opposite of "heteroflexible" is, but here you are again, across from a man. you like every woman, and 3 people on tv. and not this guy. but you're trying. your mother is worried about you. she thinks it's not okay you're single. and honestly this guy was better before you met, back when you were just texting.

wait, shit. are you doing the same thing as ariana grande? are you looking for male validation in order to appease some internalized promise of heteronormativity? do you conform to the idea that your happiness must result in heterosexuality? do you believe that you can resolve your internal loneliness by being accepted into the patriarchy? is there a reason dating men is easier? why are you so scared of fucking it up with women? why don't you reach out to more of them? you have a good sense of humor and a big ol' brain, you could have done a better job at online dating.

also. jesus christ. why can't you just get a drink with somebody without your internal feminism meter pinging. although - in your favor (and judgement aside) in the case of your ariana grande deposition: you have been in enough therapy you probably wouldn't date anyone who had just broken up with their wife of many years (and who has a young child). you'd be like - maybe take some personal time before you begin this journey. like, grande has been on broadway, you'd think she would have heard of the plot of hamlet.

he leans forward and taps two fingers to the table. "i'm not, like an andrew tate guy," he's saying, "but i do think partnership is about two people knowing their place. i like order."

you knew it was going to be hard. being non-straight in any particular way is like, always hard. these days you kind of like answering the question what's your sexuality? with a shrug and a smile - it's fine - is your most common response. like they asked you how your life is going and not to reveal your identity. you like not being straight. you like kissing girls. some days you know you're into men, and sometimes you're sitting across from a man, and you're thinking about the power of compulsory heterosexuality. are you into men, or are you just into the safety that comes from being seen with them? after all, everyone knows you're failing in life unless you have a husband. it almost feels like a gradebook - people see "straight married" as being "all A's", and anything else even vaguely noncompliant as being ... like you dropped out of the school system. you cannot just ignore years of that kind of conditioning, of course you like attention from men.

"so let's talk boundaries." he orders more wine for you, gesturing with one hand like he's rousing an orchestra. sir, this is a fucking chain restaurant. "I am not gonna date someone who still has male friends. also, i don't care about your little friends, i care about me. whatever stupid girls night things - those are lower priority. if i want you there, you're there."

he wasn't like this over text, right? you wouldn't have been even in the building if he was like this. you squint at him. in another version of yourself, you'd be running. you'd just get up and go. that's what happens on the internet - people get annoyed, and they just leave. you are locked in place, almost frozen. you need to go to the bathroom and text someone to call you so you have an excuse, like it's rude to just-leave. like he already kind of owns you. rudeness implies a power paradigm, though. see, even your social anxiety allows the patriarchy to get to you.

you take a sip of the new glass of wine. maybe this will be a funny story. maybe you can write about it on your blog. maybe you can meet ariana grande and ask her if she just maybe needs to take some time to sit and think about her happiness and how she measures her own success.

is this settling down? is this all that's left in your dating pool? just accepting that someone will eventually love you, and you have to stop being picky about who "makes" you a wife?

you look down to your hand, clutching the knife.

[icypopz]

when he gets jealous ♡

↬ request from anon ; Can I request for zayne? Please make a fic of him and mc where he is jealous and they making up after

↬ notes ; zayne x gn!reader

↬ from ice ; ohhh hell yeah we love jealous men in this house 🔥🔥🔥 also i wish the three LIs could meet in-game but since it won't happen i'll settle for making it happen in fanfic 😋 also did u guys see sylus because what the actual fuck HE'S SO FINE!!!

↬ warning(s) ; suggestive at the end

please reblog ! it helps a lot :)

zayne is a very secure man. he's the youngest recipient of the starcatcher award, one of the most talented surgeons to ever grace the halls of akso hospital, and he considers himself a rather good boyfriend - all this means he has absolutely no reason to get jealous. at least that's what he tells himself when he sees you happily talking to another man outside your apartment. the tall blonde smiles softly at you as you chatter away, and it's only when zayne clears his throat that you notice him.

"oh, this is my boyfriend, zayne! zayne, meet xavier - he lives in the apartment next to mine." you smile as you intertwine your fingers with zayne, blissfully unaware of how the temperature in the room just dropped to subzero. "hello." zayne's reply is curt as he scans xavier, taking in his messy hair and casual outfit, a stark contrast to zayne's sharply pressed suit and vest. xavier just nods at him before waving to you, "i think i'll go have a nap now... have fun on your date." with that, xavier leaves you and zayne alone in the corridor, where you grin at him, "let's go plushie hunting!"

after way too many hours at the arcade and practically a mountain of plushies to show for it, you're both back in zayne's car for him to drive you home. just then, your phone pings with a notification, and you can't help but giggle as you read the message, "zayne, look at this. xavier loves feeding the birds at his apartment." zayne looks at the image, which is an admittedly funny picture of a bird falling into a water dish, but then he registers the second half of your statement, "xavier? oh." his grip on the steering wheel tightens, his knuckles whitening as he internally rolls his eyes.

this time, you notice how the atmosphere becomes slightly awkward. "zayne? is something wrong?" when he doesn't reply, you tilt your head to look at him, noticing the small furrow between his brows and the barest hint of a pout on his lips. as you're wracking your brain for what could have upset him, it clicks. "zayne~" your voice has that familiar teasing lilt to it, and zayne is already planning his rebuttal when you ask, "are you jealous~?" that catches him by surprise - so that's the feeling weighing heavy on his chest. he clears his throat, eyes fixed firmly on the road ahead, "perhaps."

now it's your turn to be surprised - you weren't expecting him to admit it so candidly. you laugh delightedly as he pulls into your apartment parking lot, "that's so cute!" "you have a peculiar definition of cute, then." zayne scoffs, turning the engine off and still refusing to look at you. you click your tongue affectionately before leaning over to pull his cheek, "you're so annoying! but i guess even the great dr zayne gets jealous then, hm?" his ears are red, and he just settles for a simple, "i suppose so." "you don't need to worry about xavier," you press a kiss to his cheek, "you're the only one for me." then, a wicked smirk curves your lips as you whisper, "and if you come upstairs with me, i'll show you i mean it."

it's safe to say zayne is no longer jealous of xavier - he just hopes your neighbour isn't going to file any noise complaints any time soon.

✧ thank you for reading ! if you have a request, feel free to send it in 🌠

© icypopz 2024. do not repost or modify in any way.

[vagabond-umlaut]

⁙ ensnared

No matter what the world says, no matter what the world believes in, Gojo is nothing but a puny fly to the wily spider that you are. Flying headfirst into the gossamer web your skilled fingers have spun, time after time after time— The silk threads, perfectly tailored. Just for him.

▸ Gojo x Wife!Reader; Tooth-Rotting Domestic Fluff; Very Very Suggestive Themes; Nudity; Mentions of Food & A Plant Dying; Gojo calls his wife 'cookie'; Everything is fair in love and war ;) [This Fic's Rated Mature -> MDNI!!! ^_^]

▸ This is for you, Dilay! *MWAH MWAH MWAH* @roseqzpd

For all that is said about him, Gojo is a man who succumbs to only two temptations.

One:

Sweet dishes, regular intake of which will put anyone into a hyperglycemic crisis. [Good thing, he isn't just 'anyone'.]

And the other one:

You. His wife. His sweet, sweet, sweetest wife, who's currently peering up at him from his lap, wrapped in nothing except a way too tiny bath towel— however– he instructs himself the nth time since you emerged from the bathroom– you are a temptation he refuses to cave in to... just for now.

Strangely cognizant of his mind [like you are, more often than not], Gojo watches you intently stare at his lips for a full two seconds. Then repeat the request you made less than thrice today, but your husband already feels his defenses crumbling.

"'Toruuu," you whine, wrapping your arms round his neck and pressing closer, "Won't you help your wife choose a pretty outfit for today's get-together? I'm so confused... You want your wife to look the best among all the ladies there– tell me, don't you?"

"'Course, I do, cookie!" he exclaims, indignant as to how you could ever think anything otherwise— before a sudden ping! from his laptop sends him careening to the ground like a deflated balloon.

The poor man sighs. "But there's still so much work left to be done–"

"– which you can always complete once you've helped me, 'Toru," you cut him off with a pout, that slowly gathers a playful tinge as you ask, "Why are you behaving like this, though? Usually, you jump at the faintest chance to get out of paperwork. But now..."

Eyes growing comically wide, your voice sinks to a conspiratorial whisper. So worried, so cute. "Did anyone threaten to leak where your secret sweets stash is, 'Toru? If you– you know– submit these reports too late like always, eh?"

The only response your husband manages to eke out for your query is a very strained chuckle... 'cause, yeah, that's right.

Nanami promised to do exactly that– telling his very dear but having-black holes-for-stomachs students where his foreign sweets are stored– besides telling you how the white-haired man hogged ten chocolates one day despite his allowed daily two– and how your favourite star cactus didn't die from age but from him overwatering it, that week you were on a mission in France two months back– should he submit anything late ever again... But, no, wait.

You were on a foreign trip when he was given this ultimatum, and returned only last night. And Nanami promised to not tell you these yet– at least, not any time before that damned deadline's over. So, how...

"'Toruuu," Your petulant self, very adorably so, draws him away from his musings. And Gojo swears, if he wasn't losing before, he certainly is now. Your watery eyes, lower lip jutted out just the right amount and your nails leaving a delicious trail on his undercut— they've always been too strong for the world's strongest sorcerer.

Groaning, he leans forward to rest his forehead on yours. And darts his eyes to bore into yours lest they travel to your soft skin peek– NO, DON'T GO THERE. NOT NOW. PLEASE.

He huffs. "Okay, fine."

You open your mouth, probably to screech in delight, but your husband shushes you with a finger to your lips. He continues, shifting his tone to a graver timbre, "But only to help you choose your outfit– nothing else."

Lips curving into a wide smile behind his finger, your eyes gleam in terribly concealed delight. He has to actively stop himself from kissing you right then and there— there are still three mission reports left to be filed.

"And if I catch you trying to change the stream to anything else," he warns. You nestle closer into him, blinking your gorgeous eyes up at him in silent wait. A chuckle [which sounds more embarrasingly choked than anything] leaves him.

Features shifting into something brighter than a supernova, you push his finger away. And giggling, say, "You won't go easy on me— right, 'Toru?"

[In hindsight, though, Gojo thinks he should have recognised this plan to be yours.

From the way you step out the bathroom, not in your usual bathrobe but a towel... To the way you beg him to help decide your dress, in spite of knowing well how he leans towards only white or light blue choices... To the way your towel– pretty conveniently and accidentally, of course– slips lower not even ten minutes into the task...

To the soft 'Oops!' you exhale but make no move to cover your exposed chest, a mute thrill clear in the curve on your lips as you watch him watch, drink in, mentally devour the delectable sight before— your ever-present coyness nowhere to be found even as he strips you, nothing hiding you anymore from his starving gaze...

To the smug smile you're offering him now, the next day, after he's been thoroughly chewed out by Yaga for submitting his work a whopping four hours late...

Your wicked, brilliant, bewitching eyes go from him, to the mountain of empty candy wrappers on the centre table, to the empty pot of soil on the windowsill– the one that had your annoying, attention-hogging desert plant– then return to him.

A shudder runs down his spine— which doesn't take long to transform into a shiver of excitement. And a very, very warm burst of fondness right in the middle of his chest.

The man shakes his head with a laugh, 'cause—

For all that is said about him, Gojo is a man who succumbs to only two temptations.

And he'll be a fool, if he is to mess with the second– and more important of the two–

You.

His sweet, sweet, sweeter than the sweetest sweet dish, but startlingly sharp wife.]

[Also, no joke, but isn't your 'Toru insanely in love with you, even more for that?]

Gojo, some time later: My cookie is sooo smart– did ya know that, Nanamin? Hehe. Nanami: Why TF do you always hide in my office every time your wife is mad at you?

▸ Divider by @hitobaby. Header from Pinterest. I don't own the characters used here.

▸ masterlist

[utilitycaster]

this may seem needlessly finicky but I do actually believe it's important: calling Verin a himbo is just one of many examples where like, one of the cast says something off the cuff and it's not exactly the right word or it is highly contextual, and that is fine because no one is perfect especially in improv, but then it gets repeated ad infinitum within the fandom when it never really fit in the first place. We have Verin's stats and he's decently more intelligent than average with a 13 (smarter than most of Bells Hells for one; as smart as Pike); it's just he's the guy with a bachelor's degree with good grades followed by military service in a family where everyone has two PhDs - Matt said "himbo of the family" the way in a family where most people are exceptionally tall you'd call the 5'11" child the short one. In Call of the Netherdeep he appears as thoughtful and competent and promoted to a difficult position at a very young age, and in the campaign his appearance is simultaneously as a leader of troops in a dangerous mission, and someone who cares enough about poetry from a completely foreign and distant culture to have tried to learn more about it. I'm sorry, but if you're using the word "himbo" I don't think you're processing a thing about the character yourself; you're just the latest repetition in a game of telephone that's been going on since mid-2021.

And that's not deeply bad on the surface, and I'm using Verin not because he is the character most wronged by this sort of thing but because he's recent and it's really clear where the word came from and that it's not a good assessment, but something I happen to have a decent knack for is pattern recognition in language. I usually find it really easy to pick up on when someone's plagiarized because of the language and pattern shifts. I tend to remember urls and out of place words well. So I do tend to notice when everyone suddenly starts using a single turn of phrase and I tend to flag it. Sometimes that's not bad; sometimes it means everyone came to a similar conclusion and that's the best way to express that conclusion. But like, when Taliesin called the Yios episode a gas-leak episode and the entire fandom started parroting it? The line "bone-dry takes"? The fact that a lot of ship defenses I see were phrased precisely as "I have eyes"? without actually talking about the ship itself? the fact that I've seen a spike in the use of the term "ontologically evil" including in myself and not all uses are actually correct? And extending this beyond strictly language but consider any headcanon with minimal textual support that catches like wildfire (sidebar: remember how we make, or made fun of the SPREAD THIS LIKE WILDFIRE tendency on Tumblr a decade ago? same concept of repetition of a specific turn of phrase without internalizing) all sort of ping this.

And it's fine, truly, to come to fandom and turn off your brain. I know this will sound sarcastic from me, and that's because I don't personally agree, but I do strongly agree that you can do what you want in fandom and you don't have to listen to my opinions so in the end, yeah, it's fine because I am not the arbiter of "fine". But I think critical thought is a vital exercise and I think precision with language is part of it and so if you find yourself using the same exact words and thoughts as everyone else, that should, ideally, trigger a process of "but are these the right words? what do I see when I see this character and how would I describe them? do I agree with this assessment?" Fandom is an interesting and easier microcosm than reality in which to start doing that.

[zayne-li]

Heartbreaker Attacks!

Rating: Explicit

Length: 2.8k words

Here it is. The sex pollen fic. I forget who posted about this, but whoever it was, here you go.

I’m currently in the middle of the woods when I get a notification on my hunters watch that there is a wanderer attack nearby. I follow the coordinates through the underbrush, ducking under branches and avoiding rocks, and when I emerge, I’m in… Zayne’s backyard?

Well, sort of, the entire thing is enclosed in a high fence, but the location ping on my watch tells me that the wanderer is still ahead of me. I don't actually know if he’s home right now, but the fact that as I walk around the perimeter, it seems to be pinging from inside gets me worried fast. From inside, I can definitely hear some kind of commotion going on. But why would Heartbreaker attack a house randomly like this…? No, it wouldn’t just show up to destroy property, I decide, Zayne must be inside. At that moment I hear the distinct and familiar sound of Zayne’s ice spikes crackling and lodging themselves in something, possibly the wall. Luckily, only a few weeks ago, Zayne gave me the code to his front door, deciding it was “only fair” because I’d given him my apartment key. You know, just in case of “emergencies”. No other reason.

This is the first time I’ve used it though, and for a moment I’m not sure I can remember it. Was it 4102? No… 4210? No… Shit! 0412? Yes! The lock on the door blinks green and I push it open before pausing for a second, realizing something I hadn’t before. 

0412? That’s… My birthday.

I blink and shake my head a little. Not important right now! 

The sounds are coming from the living room, up ahead, and I think I even catch a glimpse of the little pink and purple wanderer. I can definitely hear it screeching, then from through the doorway, I see another ice spike whiz past. Heartbreaker cries, there’s the sound of something breaking, and then a heaving gasp that sounds distinctly like Zayne, before a series of hacking coughs.

When I skid to a stop in the room, Heartbreaker is gone, and with a brief glance at my watch, I see that the metaflux has dissipated. Which means that Zayne took it down. At least for now. Another glance around the room, and Zayne is leaning against an armchair with one hand, while his elbow covers his mouth. He’s still coughing. 

“Are you okay?!” I ask, trying not to sound panicked as he doubles over, now holding himself up by his elbow on the armchair. In just a few long strides, I’m at his side, hands hovering over his back, trying to assess what might be wrong. The first thing I notice is that he’s breathing hard and he’s flushed, though maybe that’s just the exertion from fighting. What I expect to see is maybe a bit of frost on his fingertips or creeping up his neck, but instead, when I place my hand tentatively on the small of his back, I realize he’s burning up. Also… The moment my fingers make contact with his body, he moans. I jerk back almost on instinct, my brow furrowing in confusion. Is he injured there? Zayne rolls his head to the side, and I can see better how he looks, red and panting. “I’m,” cough, “fine… You certainly acted quickly.”

He doesn’t look fine. His pupils are blown, and he has a hazy look in his eyes. My concern grows. I blink at him. “Did you just…”

He looks away, blushing brighter, “... Yes, I believe so.”

“I think you should sit down.” I touch his shoulder and arm to guide him, trying to get him to walk around the chair to sit down, but that touch too has a shiver going through his whole body before he tenses up, though he doesn’t try to stop me from guiding him into the seat. “Are you in pain?”

“No, I… No, not pain.” He gets out after a second, his expression pinched, almost frustrated, and he seems to be trying to avoid looking at me, keeping his gaze settled firmly on the ground and away from me as he clasps both hands in his lap. Maybe I’m imagining things, but I think I can see a bulge in his pants where his legs press together. “Let me get you some water.” “Yes… Water.” He’s distracted. When I return with a glass of water, his condition has already deteriorated drastically. He’s almost panting, one hand gripping the arm of the couch, the other in a fist on his thigh. He’s burning up when I get close, and he seems to have attempted to adjust himself in his pants in my absence. I feel a brief flash of anger go through me, just knowing that he’s in a state like this, and he’s arrogant enough to think he can get away without me noticing. I set the glass down, concerned, and drop to my knees in front of him, taking a hold of the hand on his leg. His eyes drift closed, and he moans softly. My voice is quiet, but firm. “Zayne, what did it attack you with?”

His face pinches more, and he swallows. “An aphrodisiac of some kind, I would assume, based on my symptoms. You… You should go. I’ll be fine. It’ll wear off.” “You’re an idiot if you think I’m just going to leave you here. Do you have any idea what will happen to you if this is left to work its way through your system?” He does. He’s seen patients exhibiting these same symptoms before, on rare occasions. In a hospital setting, there’s not much to do for them except keep their body temperature down and make sure they’re hydrated. From what he’s seen, detoxifying this particular poison is excruciatingly painful, regardless of the drug they're given to ease it. He should drink that water. “Yes.”

“Well so do I, so no, you’re not going to make me go anywhere right now.” I lean over him, hands on his thighs, and he suddenly looks up into my eyes, so needy, and whimpers. “You’d do the same thing if I was in your position, right?”

After a second, a short nod, though it looks like it pains him. “I would.”

“Then stop being a hypocrite.”

His eyes get a little wider as he looks up at me, “But what if I can’t co–”

“Don’t start that again.” I shoot him a look, and sigh at the worry on his face. My hand strokes his cheek and hair for a second, and it seems that’s all he really needs as he deflates a little, leaning into my palm and letting out a soft little grunt from the back of his throat.

I reach forward between his legs, and they seem to part for me almost instinctively. When my hands cups him through his trousers, his head falls back, and his hips rise up to meet me. The sound he makes as I squeeze down on him is a soft, high pitched moan. He’s still gripping the armrest with one hand, and I swear his knuckles are turning white already.

“Please… I need…” Already Zayne sounds a little wrecked, his voice low and desperate. The heat of his cock is heavy in my hand, and I squeeze down a little harder one more time, pulling another groan from him before I let go. “I know what you need.” I reassure him, and start to work on my clothes. My hunter’s uniform is a little complicated to get off, but the good news is that I’ve had a lot of practice. First the belts, then vest, boots, and in only a few seconds I’m shucking off the tight pants, leaving me only in my white button down. When I look up, I realize that Zayne has been drinking in the sight of me undressing the entire time, and one of his hands has now taken place of my own, where he seems to be gripping himself pretty damn tightly, enough that the veins and tendons on his hand have become more prominent than usual. 

As I take a step closer to him, he reaches out, grabbing hold of me to touch me everywhere, and all pretense is lost to him. Squeezing at my ass, my hips, my thighs, everywhere he can reach until he has a strong enough grip to rut me against him. His head falls onto my shoulder, and he’s whining, wordless. I let him do that for a minute or two, locked against him in his strong arms while his hips move beneath me, and then I grab his arm to make him stop. Even though he could easily overpower me, he ceases desperately grinding himself on me, and looks up with wide eyes, blown out by his lust, like a puppy begging for food. Or maybe like he’s afraid he’s done something wrong, and is about to receive a scolding. I brace one arm on his chest, and with the other move back on his lap. He watches, rapt as I undo his pants and pull out his cock. It’s already leaking, red, and throbbing in my grip.

The first touch has him swearing quietly, hips moving into my hand. I squeeze down on the tip as I stroke upwards, and he lets out a broken sound, his body arching for a second. So I do it again, and again, watching him as his head rolls to the side, and he seems incapable of closing his mouth.

“Too hot…” He chokes out. And he is sweating, almost through his shirt already. Were he alone, I think, this is the point by now where he would have attempted to get himself into a cold shower. 

“Let me help you then.”

I start undressing him, and it seems like every brush against him, clothed or not has him reacting, letting out little whines and moans, and he’s almost trembling with the effort to contain himself. Sometimes it even sounds like he’s trying to speak, but every plea comes out half formed. I offer encouragement to him until he’s completely bare, and help him stand so I can lay him down on the couch. I press my full weight on top of him. He’s about to lose his mind, his neck and back arching underneath me, hands tight on my waist. 

“Hey,” I murmur against his throat, and he moans. He’s so hard that I can feel a wet sticky mess starting to form between us, “you still with me?” I ask him, against his lips, barely brushing against them with my own. Zayne just groans and captures my mouth in a bruising kiss, letting go of my hips to hold me by the back of neck to him. His tongue probes at my bottom lip, and he’s moaning so softly and so desperately that I feel a surge of heat between my legs. I open my mouth to him, and he moans louder, his tongue invading me the moment he’s given permission, licking into my mouth, like he’s trying to taste and memorize every part of it. 

When he finally lets me go, he’s gasping, and his lips are now swollen, pink, and shiny with our shared spit. 

It’s frankly, an amazing look on him. 

“I’m here…” He pants, his voice hoarse as his dazed expression meets mine. I’ve never seen him like this before, it’s like he’s almost drunk on sex, and we haven’t even had it yet. “Just… Need you… Please…” Zayne begs, quiet and small, and he speaks slowly, like he’s unsure how to properly voice his own desires. For just a second, I’m overwhelmed by just how… cute he is. It’s my turn to swear under my breath, and I can’t help pulling him into another kiss, which he accepts gratefully. 

I reach my hand between us, rising up on my hips and scooting forward to position myself over him. When I grab his cock he seems to finally realize what I’m doing, and for a second I’m worried he’s forgotten how to breathe, with the way he suddenly goes almost entirely still. His erection is slick already, and I use the mess of cum he’s made on himself to stroke him a few times, until his cock is coated in his own seed. Zayne’s head arches back against the cushion of the couch, and the leg he has braced on the floor moves inwards, jostling me a little as I press the tip of his cock against me. I rub it against me a few times, looking down at the debauched mess of himself that Zayne has already become, and fuck if I don’t feel myself almost gush between my legs. 

“Please don’t tease me.” He sounds almost broken, begging as he tries to arch up into my cunt, whining when I place a hand on his hip to keep him still.

“I’m not, I promise.” I try to reassure him by rubbing my thumb against his skin, where I’ve braced myself on his chest. Then, I get his cock to catch on the rim of my entrance, and sink down all in one go. It nearly takes the breath out of my lungs, the sudden fullness and heat of him inside me, and I let out a few soft gasps. 

“Oh, fuck…” Zayne whimpers beneath me, his voice high and thready. His hands twitch for a fraction of a second, and then he grabs at my waist, like he needs something to just ground him. I start to move, slowly at first, and watch his face screw up almost like he’s in pain, but I think really he’s just trying to stay still. My breath comes out heavier as I brace both hands on his chest and move on him faster, rolling my hips atop his own.

And God, it feels so good that I start to get lost in it myself a little, chasing my own pleasure with his cock, and when I look down at him I see him watching me, his mouth open, and he’s making the cutest little sounds with every movement, growing faster with each passing moment, and then I see it. I don’t stop riding him while I watch his back arch, his eyes close, and his body start to twitch and tremble while I feel him pulsing inside of me. He’s almost silent during his orgasm, only gasping softly, as if he doesn’t have the breath to make another sound.

I don’t cum yet, but I can feel myself clenching down around him at the sight of him coming undone. His hair is messy, his cheeks and ears bright red, and his chest is heaving underneath my palms. He looks completely fucked out, boneless, and like he’s barely aware of his surroundings. 

My hips keep grinding down onto his cock that hasn’t started to soften yet, and I try to angle myself so that I can fuck down almost onto his public bone, because I know if I can get my clit just a little bit of– “Oh god!” I choke out, and start to ride him hard and fast as I feel my orgasm start to wash over me, and I feel how wet it’s getting between us, the squelch getting louder and louder while I work my way through it. 

In the haze, I dimly become aware of Zayne’s hands now taking a bruising grip on my hips, and the pained groans and whines that start to come from him while I use his overstimulated cock. “Oh fuck, oh, mmm, wait, I can’t–” He starts to protest, but during the fall of my orgasm, I feel him start to cum again, in a matter of seconds. This time he is not so quiet. Instead he keens, and inside of me his cock jumps wildly, spurting into me over and over, and as Zayne gasps and shudders through it, for a second I think both of us are wondering if it’ll ever end. 

As it ebbs away, he makes a little sobbing sound, and while I catch my own breath, I feel that he’s still holding tight to my hips. I lean heavily over him, tightening around his cock a few times as I feel it start to soften inside of me, and hear Zayne’s small, almost pained grunt. There’s a long silence, neither of us speaking or looking at each other until I feel his cock slip out of me, flopping back down between his own legs, and then I raise up to look at him. I wonder if I look as disheveled as he does. Not that it matters, because he’s looking up at me and his eyes are almost sparkling. I clear my throat, “Better?”

Zayne huffs a chuckle, and instead looks at his hands as they start to move up and down my thighs, his voice still hoarse, “Yes, much… But I’m afraid I might need a follow up appointment, doctor.”

I roll my eyes, and crawl back over him to steal another short kiss. I don’t miss the way he tries to follow my lips for a second. “Well, then I guess we’ll just have to schedule one.”

[why-animals-do-the-thing]

perhaps a bit of an odd question: so, when I'm scrolling tumblr on mobile, I have a habit of downloading most images i come across, so that I can send them to people who don't use tumblr, especially memes and animal photos. however, i also have severe memory issues, and I may end up forgetting where i got certain images. i know for the photo repository one of the rules is to not repost the photos without any modification- which i might forget, or forget which images on my phone fall under that rule. and while i would guess that that rule doesn't apply to stuff like direct messages or texts, i might forget to tell the person I'm sending it to, who might repost it elsewhere without being aware, or months after downloading i will just forget and use one of the photos in a post I'm making because it felt relevant.

this is something i can pretty easily solve myself by just blocking the photo repository blog, or tags relating to it, but I'd rather not do that because i do really like seeing the photos and all the info and stuff. and i would assume it would be an insane amount of work for you to add something like a watermark to every single photo, so I'm not really sure how to go about this. i like seeing the photos, but i don't want to accidentally break the rules.

You clearly care deeply about doing the "right thing", so, what that tells me is that you're not actually the target audience for that rule. I appreciate all the thought you put into this message. Let's talk about it!

I've been reconsidering if requiring people to get permission for reposting images is the best policy to have and I'd like people to weigh in.

My original reasoning was this: the more I can ensure that reposts are affiliated with credit, the better I can control copyright on the images on the site, and therefore have more ground to challenge any scrapers/fake accounts/AR groups that yoink them for nefarious purposes. The easiest way to do that seemed to be to have people ping and ask, with the expectation of saying yes almost all the time.

But there's a couple problems with that, I think, in practice:

People don't like emailing strangers (I forget this! I have done it for work for so many years it isn't uncomfortable anymore).

This isn't how the internet works. (Tumblr has a specific microculture that encourages crediting creators and not stealing! Once this is shared more widely on other platforms, I don't expect it'll be the same ecosystem).

It actually undermines organic spread of content! (You're less likely to make an excited post about a cool photo if you have to send a maybe-scary email and wait for a response). And I do want there to be lots of eyeballs on the photos.

Realistically, @nexus-nebulae, with the policy right now? If you slipped up and reposted something without thinking, I'd just ask you to add credit to the post so it directs back to the site. The goal of this whole project is community access and engagement - I want to you to enjoy the photos, and send them to your friends! I'm just trying to also protect it from the awful that a lot of the internet has become.

But, I'm also wondering it it makes sense to swap the policy to say that it's fine to re-post images on socials as long as they're appropriately credited and/or linked back to the repository. This isn't the policy yet, but if you're reading this please tell me what you're thinking.

Non-edited image use (like putting them in a scientific paper, using them to build a curriculum unit, or putting them on board game cards - these are just random examples) would still need to be requested; but that's an entirely protective stance and if you ask, my goal is to always say yes.

So OP, please don't worry too much. Enjoy looking at the animals, do your best, and I'll be happy. :)

[ms-demeanor]

I think I knew you’d posted some risqué things but I didn’t know you were once the porn guy? If you are also accepting questions about porn - have you ever had fears or issues with those sorts of photos/videos being out and about impacting your career? I’ve always been told it would be a terrible mistake but I’m always curious to do it anyway.

Also, head shaving fetish videos? I got paid to shave my head for a commercial once but this intrigues me all the more!

I've been the porn guy kind of forever; my first real jobs were doing porn (commissioned art of some stuff that was actually really distressing largely because of the business relationship and nude modeling that was fine) and I've done random fetish stuff and custom videos over the years.

When I first started doing any of that the internet wasn't the way that it is now so it didn't make a difference, by the time it made a difference my career was already dogshit and I'd spent some time working for a feminist magazine that made me use my full legal name on their publication and I got myself a nice collection of howling MRAs to follow me around for the better part of a decade. That was genuinely more professionally damaging than porn has ever ended up being because at least with porn nobody expected me to have my legal name on anything but a release. (It turned out that one of the guys I worked with was fans of one of the MRAs who made an entire video about one of the feminist comics and kept using my name through the whole video so there were like several years where I was trying to be nice to this dude who was pretty awful so that he wouldn't tell this youtuber's audience where I worked. That fucking sucked)

I guess it could come up and it would probably have some pretty bad fallout at work but also there would be other places that I could land; I know several former sex workers in infosec because infosec is a weird space with weird norms and I'm sure I'd land somewhere stable if I had to call in favors. I mean, hell, two of the guys I'd tap for help if I got fired tomorrow work places that host porn where part of their job is making sure that the porn sites get support.

It is definitely something that I would be more concerned about if I were not already relatively toxic as far as employers are concerned. I don't think they'd get as far as being put off by the porn, they already hate the motormouth and the haircut and the eye contact and the labor organizing. (This blog, my current online presence, is not exactly an asset if I'm looking for work, you know? Most employers are not a real big fan of people who talk about abolishing copyright and establishing worker protections - and it's inextricably tied with my legal name because of the feminist magazine that wanted me to leverage my social media presence for their clicks.)

But if it's something you're thinking about and you're not already radioactive it's worthwhile to be cautious. Talk to other porn producers online, read up on it (I've got some stuff written by other people about sex work in the digital age on @safe-for , which is my porn blog, but it's a bit of a scroll to get to it. I had more on my other porn blog, where I also had more porn, but that got deleted. I was really starting to pick up what I was producing online and promoting on tumblr when the porn ban kicked in, then I basically stopped doing pretty much anything SW related when my spouse's health imploded then there was covid and wham bam here we are)

I don't know. If I was starting new at all of this and it was post SESTA/FOSTA would I do it? The internet and its attitudes about porn are VASTLY different now than they were just a few years ago. I would probably be a lot more hesitant now than I was in 2004.

The headshave stuff is fun though, and there's a lot you can do with that that doesn't ping as sex work the same way to a lot of people. There's still SW in the performance for the clients, and in the way they treat you, but it's less of a concern as something that might rear its head and shame your family line in thirty years.

I once had someone pay a five hundred dollars to clip my undercut and shave it down with a razor after. It's good work if you can get it, but it IS work and there may be weird emotional fallout if you're entering a fetish space you're not familiar with (LOTS of degradation in this particular scene; I'm personally okay with that but many many people aren't - if you're uncomfortable being degraded this may not be the kink space for you).

[pedriache]

Hello! Could i request a story about Pedri dating a tennis player, someone like Emma răducanu? If you do not like tennis, it's no problem if you don't want to write it. I like all your other Pedri stories 🤗

Breakfast of champions 𖦹 Pedri González !

summary. after you won a match and pedri had won a game on the same day, you both decided the next day you’d celebrate with the most elaborate of breakfasts. the only problem was—pedri was terrible at making waffles.

wc. 685+

disclaimers. fluff, established relationship, reader is a tennis player, ect !

notes. i know literally nothing abt tennis so i hope i did this justice.. its so barely there but i gen had no ideas what to write

The kitchen was filthy with flour and the sweet smell of Belgian waffles. Pedri was currently staring at the burnt—once fluffy and delicious, looking waffle. A line formed between his brows as he tried to figure out exactly where he went wrong.

You, standing a few feet away with a flour-splotched apron, stifled a laugh. “Baby.. How..” You start, but clamp your mouth shut when Pedri’s eyes snap to you with a warning look.

“Right. Okay, well, just.. put it in the trash. You can just start over. No big deal.” You smile lightly, striding over to his side and standing up on your tip toes, planting a kiss on his cheek.

Pedri sighed at the light touch before gripping the plate and moving toward the trash can.

Yesterday had been a whirlwind. You’d won your match at Wimbledon, which was a major accomplishment for you and many other tennis players alike. Pedri and his team had won the El Clásico.

So, today, you were celebrating with a breakfast fit for royalty—or they were supposed to at least. You forget that Pedri's kitchen skills were subpar at best.

You’d been put on bacon duty, which you gladly accepted. Easy to do, and made sure that you could keep your eye on the waffle maker since your boyfriend’s attention couldn’t seem to stay on it.

Instead, he’d attempt to drift toward you, hands sliding around your waist for about five seconds before you swatted at them and scolded him—

“Pedro. Get your ass back to the waffles.”

And now, he was facing the consequences of his actions.

Both of the waffles in it had burnt.

“I swear, I was watching this time!” Pedri groaned, running a hand through his dark hair. “Cariño..” He whines, setting the now-empty plate on the table. “Can you just.—“

Rubbing your temples, you rolled out your sore wrist. Your opponent had most definitely given you a run for your money yesterday. “Just go set the table.”

Pedri’s lips pulled into a small grin. “‘M sorry.” He mumbled against your hair, placing a quick kiss to the too of your head.

Tilting your head up, you rolled your eyes. A hint of amusement passes across your face as he tips his head, capturing your lips in a slow, warm kiss.

“It’s okayyy.” You murmur against his mouth, “just go set the table and start cleaning the dishes.” Nodding, he let go of you and walked to the cupboard.

While Pedri did the dishes and you made the waffles, conversation flowed between you, and by conversation.. well, it was mostly you complaining.

“In the beginning, I thought I was going to twist my ankle I was running back and forth so much. She had a strong ass wrist, babe. I literally have never had to put in so much effort.” You dramatized your words, which had your boyfriend chuckling.

“You ran track in high school, I’m sure you were fine.” He shakes his head in short laughter, setting a spatula into the dish washer.

Your head turns to face him, eyes narrowing. “Alright, that was like—nearly four years ago.”

“Well, couldn’t be me.” Pedri shrugs.

Okay, ego.

“Is that a challenge?”

“Maybe.”

“When our bodies aren’t dying, we’re so racing.”

Ping!

Waffles were done, everything set out… you and Pedri feasted.

When you both finished and exhaled long, dragged out breaths, leaning back into your seats, you met each other’s eyes. “Holy shit, I don’t think I can eat ever again.” Pedri grumbles, head tipping back as his hand rubbed his stomach as if to soothe the ache.

“Me neither.” You almost laugh, but couldn’t bring yourself to make the sound in fear of upsetting your stomach.“Let’s go back to bed and never leave.”

And with that, Pedri walked around the table, reaching out his hands for you to take before pulling you to your feet. Both of you glanced at your dirty plates and cups then to each other.

“We can put them away later.”

You nod and let him drag you to the bedroom.

likes, comments, and reblog’s are all appreciated. lmk if you’d like to be tagged in future posts.

ᝰ.ᐟ tags @halfwayhearted @lechrts @joaoflms @sakashq @spidybaby @be11ingham @gadriezmannsgirl @unx100to @cececarmona17 @piastri-fvx @st4rgirl-ellie

[huggywuggysuppy]

Gem and Pearl chatted lightly about the WL finale on Pearl's Dec 4th stream (here) and now we know what they meant.

Among references to Pearl's wet catness, at 1:55:30:

Gem: We're both a little bit pathetic in wild life, it's fine.

Pearl: I don't know if you can call yourself pathetic, Gem. I really don't-

Gem: I think-I think I was pathetic yesterday [in the finale.]

Pearl: You reckon?

Gem: I mean I've got like the biggest target on my back ever so it's like doomed, but I think it was a little bit pathetic

Pearl: mmmmm I don't want to spoil anything otherwise I would have a full blown conversation about why you think that. But also I can't. [because spoilers]

So why'd they say all that? Spoiler analysis ahead!

Gem lost her final life to the wildcard all alone at her base, which isn't the most interesting death. Many of the CC's have mentioned that a boring final death sucks -- even in the same stream Pearl mentions she hesitates to fight reds cause she doesn't want to inflict a bad finale on them. Also, in the ep Gem muses that she regrets holding herself back so much from murder -- the "sweat" accusations are really getting to all the CC's I fear. Gem isn't pathetic, and had a lot of entertaining moments in her ep, but the death was unsatisfying.

Pearl hesitated to even post her finale in part because she thought it was boring / unfulfilling. The wet cat bit is funny (and she's sort of owning it?) but even its origin is messy. Due to Aussie ping (as she demonstrated earlier in the stream), it was straight up improbable to get a mace kill, no matter how much she tried. She was fighting lag the rest of the episode too due to the wildcard overload. That was on top of episodes worth of failed traps, storylines, and murder attempts, that were largely foiled by not having enough time to do them properly. Placed final 5 as always, but she suffered the whole way there and mostly just survived without getting any kills herself.

Most importantly: neither of them got to enjoy/execute their divorce arc plans. It's an ongoing problem with WL but especially noticeable in the finale. Neither of them wanted to rush things, but the series forced their hands! Joel kept interrupting with (valid) murder attempts, and Pearl actively tried saving Gem when she was getting attacked by the rest of the server. Everyone loves and longs for another Murder Camel team up, CC's included, but it just wasn't viable. They agreed to hold off on their foreshadowed 1v1 until Gem was red, where she then died right before the wildcards deactivated (when there was room for lore/rp.) Overall, they were punished for pacing things out.

And why wouldn't they feel bad after that? Gem died unceremoniously, Pearl slogged through the ep with very little payoff, and neither got to fulfill their season long arcs. And that's what everyone's here for at the end of the day: telling a good story! Life series is special for its specific brand of focusing on RP, which is why the "a gimmick an episode" format hurt so bad. The CC's aren't pathetic, the wildcards are the problem.

(I hope the CC's feel better after the positive reception they HAVE gotten from the ep, as we still enjoyed the season and storyline they did squeeze in. Joel's ep in particular was still fire inc the final fight, although I dream of the au where Gem makes it to the end with him.)

(Pearl's stream line about "wanting a full convo" says good things about the CC's examining what went wrong and why so many people walked away unsatisfied. It's also sweet that the girlies don't want each other to think they're "pathetic /srs" instead of "pathetic /wet cat." I trust Grian + co. will figure things out for (hopefully) next time.)

[sanijoys]

HC: Bunny Isekai 1

This Head canon is taken inspiration from another author. They have given me permission to take inspiration from their work with credits of the original :> @lotusarchon :D

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You and your friend love the story of Sun Wukong or JTTW but how you two got introduced to it were so different.

she first discover LMK in which she begged you to watch it with her. At first, you were fine with the story, however as it progressed you started to feel regret in agreeing to watching it.

The show wasn't bad per se, rather it was how the show portrays the OG characters from the source material that being JTTW.

Although you kept reminding yourself that this was just an adaptation and the target audience are children. BUT STILL.

You begged your friend to try reading or at least watch a summary (heck, you even recommended her to watch the live series) of the original story of JTTW. You made sure that she will only be watching/reading the original and not another adaptation.

You were to happy that you were able to convince her to watch a summary of it (bless your soul). And you gleefully took every reaction she made.

"Who tf is Erlang?"

"Red Son got his ass kicked by his own uncle? What?"

"WHO TF IS THI- HE CHEATED ON PIF????"

"You mean to tell me that LBD was a fucking weak demon??? HUH??"

"DBK wasn't trapped inside a mountain?!" "ye-"

The list of reaction goes on, and you took it all like drinking wine.

Of course she took two days break (both from watching LMK and the OG JTTW) because she REFUSED to believe that DBK cheated on his wife. WHOM SHE THOUGHT HE LOVED. (you told her that he did cheated and that at least PIF got her girl boss moment).

But despite after watching the summary she still choose the Lego show (much to your despair). She was still thankful of you for letting her watch the OG.

Although you tolerate the show, you can never have it in you to linking it.

And don't get yourself started with another one that your friend found. Black Myth Wukong.

You first discovered that game through a Youtube short but chose to ignore it. That is until your friend found it.

She watched it before you, and gave you the link to watch it. Her words being "It looks so cool and I love the story! You might love it too!"

She also mentioned to you that thee game was accurate to the original story. (you hade your doubts)

Although you were slightly hesitating in watching it. You kept getting video shorts of it for a whole week. You were at your end point so you watched the 20 hours gameplay.

To say that you had many, many points about the game.

You like the graphics of the game. The music? Oh damn it is majestic. The animations were so good that you often re watched it (especially in Ne zha's scene). And the voice acting? UGH, you can just sit there and rewind to listen to Erlang's voice. But these are just the good points.

The bad points.... What. The. Fuck.

WHAT DO YOU MEAN THAT ZHU BAJIE WIFE IS THE SPIDER QUEEN???? (you had to look back both live series, book, and summary to check if you missed that part).

You were so confused with the black bear story too. Because didn't you (black bear) swore to Guanyin and become the mountain's guardian deity??? You were also confused with Elder Jinchi's dialogue because why did he mentioned the two best friends of the black bear???? Huh???

Also, who tf is Ping Ping? And what do you mean Red Son was born through the River of Child Bearing??? WHAT????

You were breaking down throughout the gameplay because you couldn't help but think how the devs literally altered almost most of the story points.

YES, you knew that the game plot was basically a what if situation if Wukong choose to rebel the heaven's (again) so he can get rid of the golden headband so that he can be finally be free from the clutches of the Heaven's.

But that's the thing... the golden headband was removed after the journey. His headband was finally removed because he found enlightenment. He was literally named as a Buddha.

Your brain at the end of the video was fried from all the recalling just to make those points. And yes, you did create a power point presentation to your friend showing those said bad points.

Did you have a small argument with your friend about it? Yes. Did she realized that she was actually wrong to assume that it was an accurate adaptation? Yes (it took you 2 hours to make her admit it). Were satisfied after that? Absolutely.

You lazily watched the series of LMK (the season 5) as you ate your spicy noodles. You can hear your friend from the other side of the vc squealing when MK was able to come back to his friends.

Although you showed your disinterest to continue watching the show to your friend. She bribed you with free spicy noodles and ramen for 2 weeks. So in the end, you agreed even though you didn't want to. But hey, at least you got free food for 2 weeks.

You sigh internally when it was the end of thee show, 'Finally, its done.'

"So, what did you think of the ending, bubble?"

Bubble, the nickname she gave you. Why did she nicknamed you that? You didn't want to know.

"It was good, although it would have been interesting to have an episode of Ne zha and his dad's interaction," You continued while swirling the soup of the noodles, "Cause' I wanted to see how their relation go."

"Or is it because you wanted to see more Ne zha scene?"

You can hear her smugness.

"Both."

She giggles from your honesty, "I still don't get how you don't like the show but you show favoritism to one of the characters."

You gulp down the soup and replied, "Not my fault that they made the character hot."

"Ah, fair."

You throw the cup in the trach can next to your desk, "Anyways, didn't you said that after this episode you'll be doing your research paper, Cheesy?"

A nickname that you gave her since she was basically is obsesses with cheese. It's also because she gave you a confusing nickname too.

You hear her groan from your headset as you exit the share screen in discord.

"Ugh, but don't wannaaaaaa......"

Rolling your eyes you told her that it's either she sacrifice the downfall of her grades or not. This made her groan again but she said she'll do it. Thus making her say her goodbyes, leaving you alone in the vc.

'Hm, I wanna eat ice cream,' You drool at the idea, 'Amma just check my wallet.'

You found that you had enough for four. Huzza!

You went and grab your cap. You went down from your room, informing your mother where you will gone to, and asked your brother if he also wanted ice cream.

after that you leisurely walked to your local convenient store across the street. As you went to cross the road, you heard someone shouting.

At first you didn't mind it. After all, this is a loud street that you lived in. But it seems that this was your biggest mistake.

Because you felt a hard impact hit the back of your head. Causing you to fall on the pavement, you felt your head ringing. Trying to get up from the ground but then you felt another impact...

Before you knew it....everything turned black.

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Wewo :3

[fiveht]

Proof of life (Adore pt 3)

Hello my sweet angel babies ♥️

I'm not going to be able to adequately express my gratitude for the steady stream of love (and concern, sorry) I've been receiving over the past couple of months. I'm so sorry I've been AWOL, it will definitely happen again. Because see, for me, I usually have to make a choice between social and creative fandom participation. My battery is small, and takes a long time to charge.

Thank you to everyone who's left comments and asks and DMs since I've been gone. I don't think I can respond to all of it, but rest assured those messages ping my cold, dead heart every time I see them.

So I'm gonna go out on a limb here. I did this same thing months and months ago, when I was working on Head Over Feet, and let me be clear: posting even a single word of a WIP goes against my every instinct and principle as an author. I am someone who likes to finish an entire story before I post any of it, and on top of that, I am NOT a fast writer, so the expectations that I'm setting up here might not be advisable. But I did it before and managed to finish the thing, and I want to give you guys something in exchange for being so unbelievably awesome, so here I am again.

This will probably be the only time I mention this story in public until it's finished and posted, and inquiries about my progress are unlikely to help with the writing process, I'm just saying. I reserve the right to change every last word of this before the final draft, and I also reserve the right to fall off the face of the planet and simply never finish it, as much as I will strive to prevent that from happening. Please be patient with me.

Anyway, here is my paltry offering to say thanks for the love: the (VERY rough) first ~1300 words of the third instalment of The Adventures of Soft Daddy and Danger Twink.

Sirius secures his handheld shower head to its holder at the edge of his clawfoot tub, and steps out carefully onto the bathmat. He shivers in the cool air outside the shower curtain; it's about twenty degrees below zero outside, so even if he could afford to run his ancient radiator at full blast, it probably wouldn't help much.

He dries himself off and checks his reflection in the mirror, turning his face this way and that as he tugs his hair out of the bun he'd piled it into to keep it dry during his shower. There's no need for makeup tonight, not when he's not even planning to put on clothes.

It's incrementally warmer when he steps out into the main room of his apartment. He gathers an array of splayed text books and notes from his bed and dumps them carelessly onto the couch, then closes his new laptop and places it delicately on the coffee table. It's the most expensive thing he owns, save for the Gucci backpack currently sitting in his wardrobe with a three-inch berth around it like his shoes and other bags might somehow contaminate it. It's weird owning rich-people stuff when you are still, objectively, broke as fuck.

He perches on the edge of his bed and sets his phone to charge, because his battery doesn't even last a day anymore, and he's going to need it this evening. He tucks it in next to his pillow and picks up his new toy.

The plug isn't much larger than the one he already has. A little longer, which is appealing, but no wider, so it shouldn't be a challenge to get it in comfortably. He disconnects it from its charger and hefts it in his hand, feeling the added weight from the electronics inside.

He picks up his phone, and hesitates when he sees the notification waiting for him.

Rieka: let's go out tomorrow

Rieka: the fact that we haven't been drunk since the term started is criminal

Rieka: we've had two chem labs and zero drinks

Sirius purses his lips, thumbs hovering over the keyboard. There's a fine line here, and he hasn't quite found it yet.

Me: got plans

Me: raincheck?

So complete avoidance is the best strategy, right?

Rieka: booooo 👎

He sighs, but at least she's not asking for an explanation. He opens a different conversation then, pushing all thoughts of Rieka Lupin into a tidy, sealed compartment, not to be opened during certain activities with a certain relative of hers.

Me: i'm ready

Me: are you in your office?

Daddy: Yup, I've got a few minutes

Daddy: Want me to call?

Instead of answering, Sirius hits the call button himself.

"Hey baby," Remus answers. His voice is already smooth and honey-sweet, and just from that, Sirius knows he's planning to lay it on thick tonight.

"Hi daddy," Sirius says with a smile. "Should I put it in now?"

There's a low chuckle over the line. "Are we feeling eager?"

"Always," Sirius says, laying back on his bed.

"Use the good lube I got you, it's gonna be in there a while."

He switches the call to speaker, and snags the bottle from his nightstand. "I threw out the old stuff, you've got me ruined for cheap lube."

"Only the best for that ass," Remus says, and Sirius can hear his smirk.

He gives the plug a liberal coating, running his fingers along its shape, his dick twitching just at the feel of the silky-smooth silicone, at the anticipation of what's about to happen. He spreads his legs wide, drawing one knee up to give himself easier access.

"Take it slow," Remus says, succinctly heading off Sirius' impulse to just shove the thing inside himself in one go. "Rub the tip against yourself, so you're nice and wet."

Sirius shuts his eyes as he obeys, sliding the slick end of the toy over his entrance. "Okay."

"Are you going to be a good boy for daddy tonight?"

"Uh-huh," Sirius says, teasing the very tip of the plug in and out of his hole.

"Tell me how."

"I'm not gonna touch."

"You're not gonna touch, and you're not gonna come."

"Yeah," Sirius says. His cock is starting to harden as his body tries to draw the plug inside. "Can I put it in, daddy?"

"Slow," Remus reminds him, "Slide it in nice and slow for me, baby."

Sirius catches his lip between his teeth and tries to push the plug in slowly, the way he knows Remus would do if he was here. 

The shower has left him relaxed and more than ready, and it's hard not to take advantage, just press the toy in to its limit because he can. But he's working on his patience -- under Remus' careful tutelage -- so he shuts his eyes and tries to savour it, the tease of the plug's rubber tip at his entrance, the slow stretch as he eases it past the slight resistance before he sighs, and his body eagerly accepts the intrusion.

"Mmmm," Sirius sighs as he settles the base of the plug flush against his entrance, shifting his hips and feeling the constant, dull pressure against his prostate.

"How's it feel?" 

"Good," Sirius says, splaying his legs out and just enjoying the pleasant fullness. It's been almost a week since Remus last fucked him, and that's just way too long. Christmas really spoiled him. He tugs the blankets up around him, because it's going to take some time before his body temperature is high enough to fight against the chill in his apartment.

"Have you tried out the settings at all?" Remus asks him, and Sirius picks up the phone, switching off speaker and holding it to his ear.

"No," he says, grinding his ass down against the bed to test the plug's reach inside him. "I thought you'd rather do the honours."

Remus hums, and Sirius hears the phone shifting in his grip. "I'm gonna turn it on, okay? Lowest setting."

"O--" Sirius stutters as the plug buzzes to life inside him, nestled snug against his prostate and sending little zings of pleasure down his legs. "Fuck that feels good. That's the lowest setting?"

"It is," Remus confirms. "Want to run through them all, see how high it goes? Or would you rather be surprised?"

"Mmmm, surprise me."

"Surprise it is," Remus says, and Sirius hears shuffling papers in the background as he prepares for his night class. Psychology 1001, Thursdays, 7-9:30PM. Two and a half hours of a lecture that Remus swears he's given so many times he could recite it in his sleep, so why not give himself something fun to focus on while he goes through the motions? 

Being privy to all of this brilliant, upstanding man's secret perversions is a privilege Sirius does not take lightly.

"You can turn it off from the app if you need to," Remus is saying, "Or you can call me and I'll switch it off. My phone's on vibrate, so I'll see it right away."

Sirius smiles to himself. "Got it," he says, though this is a rehashing of the rules that Remus had laid out when he'd brought the plug over last weekend. He'd called it a "late Christmas gift", as if he hadn't already given Sirius several thousand dollars worth of presents on Christmas morning.

There's more rustling over the line, the squeak of a chair. 

"Tell me again how you're going to be good tonight."

"I'm not gonna touch myself, and I'm not gonna come." The toy is still buzzing away inside him, making everything a little fuzzy at the edges. 

"Tell me why."

"'Cause daddy's in charge, even when he's not here."

"Good boy."

Sirius squirms with pleasure, his cock smearing a little drop of fluid on his belly as the toy hums insistently at his prostate.

"I have to head out," Remus says. "How do you feel?"

"Good," Sirius says, his abs tensing as he shifts his legs and the angle of the toy changes. "Excited."

"Me too," Remus says softly. "I'll talk to you soon, beautiful. Send me some pictures." With a low beep, the call disconnects.

[polyshowtime]

thinking about how interesting it is to see how differently people write in stars and time post game stuff

like. there's so much stuff you can miss and things you can do differently (maybe you give up on confessing to isabeau, or are worried about triggering the sus ping too many times (might i also add is insane how the game gets the player to see this as a bad thing. get my guy siffrin some help)), or you don't like exploring that much or. whatever. you miss the easy to miss secret ending.

plus!! the amount of loops someone goes through can differ so much depending on their play style

as an example. personally, i only used the dagger once over all of my play time, since the dialogue you get when you wake up after using it for the first time. made me sick to my stomach. so i returned the dagger immediately (thus making me have to make a separate save for the loop chat achievement LOL)

I see so many people write siffrins that had active dagger use, though. which is fine!!! i love reading fics!!!!!! keep writing!!!!!!! but it just goes to show how different people's siffrins can be.

and that's not even mentioning how much is left unsaid, given the game starts at the end. it's so beautiful.... prime sandbox territory right there i LOVE IT i LOVE seeing people's interpretations of stuff.... mwah

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

reading update: October 2024

hello, ahoy, and welcome to my October reading recap.

I made a real effort to focus on spooOOOoooky books this month, in the name of the season; you may even recall that I started early and read some spooky stories at the tail end of September. (read Carmen Maria Machado's comic The Low, Low Woods, btw.)

I've never been great at sticking to a theme but I think it helped that what gets classified as "horror" can vary greatly, so I never really got bored of the genre. I did get disappointed more than once by how Not Spooky some of these books turned out to be, but that's a totally different question.

right at the end of the month you'll notice a couple of outliers with Caped Crusade and Luster, which happened entirely because I was out of library books and on the road for a conference, so I was reading what I could get my hands on! I've been working on rereading Caped Crusade on and off for a couple months and I bought Luster at a cool indie bookstore in the town I was visiting and then inhaled most of it on the way home.

ANYWAY. to the books!

And Then I Woke Up (Malcolm Devlin, 2022) - this is a novella with an interesting spin on the zombie story, where the "zombies" are actually people who have started suffering hallucinations that fill them with paranoia and force them see other people as monsters. so, like, there were never any REAL monsters, but a woman looked at her young son and saw him as a cannibalistic monster, so she killed him. so who's the real monster? it's very deep. this story's explanation for this is "the narrative," an idea so strong that it simply seems to take hold of anyone who's around a sufficiently charismatic ringleader who drives them to join in their delusions and kill innocents who don't share their worldview. it's not a super subtle zombie metaphor, but I guess very few zombie metaphors are. it's fine.

Through the Woods (Emily Carroll, 2014) - I truly wholeheartedly wish I had more to say about this but it's just a very charming creepy collection of comics. my favorite was the one that was the scariest, involving humans getting taken over by body-snatching worm monsters, but on the whole it was a very minor creepy factor. the art's great the whole way through.

Happy Medium (Sarah Adler, 2024) - Happy Medium is October's romance novel as picked by my patreonites, and I will admit: my hopes were not high going in. a conwoman posing as a psychic clashing with a skeptical hottie goat farmer didn't ping me as a great mix, but honestly? HONESTLY? it kind of served. there was a much more well-rounded emotional core to this book than I often encounter in my romance novels; at risk of sounding like a cornball it genuinely had a lot of heart. the conwoman is actually extremely charming, I was rooting for her in a big way, and her emotional journey goes so far beyond just falling in love with the goat farmer. I'll happily claim Happy Medium as my #1 romance of the year unless a challenger arises in the next two months, but it's not looking likely.

The Ones That Got Away (Stephen Graham Jones, 2010) - this is a collection of Graham's short stories that was published long before he became a huge name in horror with books like The Only Good Indians and My Heart Is a Chainsaw. and as much as I hate to say it, I think I personally prefer his longer form fiction. none of these short stories were bad, per se, and they're incredibly stylized and polished, but I think I like Jones' work a lot more when it has time to simmer out. I may have also been biased by the fact that I was desperately seeking something scary to read, because while Jones plays with some pretty narsty concepts, the horror tends not to hit until a last page reveal that recontextualizes everything that's come before. which is cool! but not scaring me as much as I wish it was.

The Salt Grows Heavy (Cassandra Khaw, 2023) - a lot of people told me I should read this because it stars a killer mermaid and a plague doctor, which are two aesthetic archetypes I love, and I will give this to Cassandra Khaw: I liked this a lot more than their other book, Nothing But Blackened Teeth. which is clearing a very low bar, since I didn't really like that book at all, but I do think Salt is genuinely a pretty marked improvement. the prose is still kind of torturously overwrought in many places and I desperately wish that Khaw would put the thesaurus away, but there's like. a Concept here. the core is fun.

Tell Me I'm Worthless (Alison Rumfitt, 2021) - this book is by far the scariest I read, because the horror is hatred and bigotry and a fucked up, evil house that brings out the very worst of everyone who steps inside of it. this book gets so fucked up and bloody and downright nasty in its exploration of the characters and the underlying bigotries that turn them against each other and drive them apart. I don't want to spoil anything, but the book follows a white trans woman named Alice and her mixed race, cis ex-girlfriend Ila. in the past Alice and Ila entered the evil house with their friend Hannah; that ended with Hannah dead and missing and Alice and Ila both scarred and traumatized, each certain that they were raped by the other. so that's what this book is like! not a lighthearted undertaking, but one that I could. not. put. down.

A Sunny Place for Shady People (Mariana Enríquez, trans. Megan McDowell 2024) - what is there to say? Enríquez is my short story queens, and her new release absolutely lived up to the precedent set for me by The Dangers of Smoking in Bed, which was originally published in 2009 but not translated into English until 2021. this collection is sooo aptly named, because many of the stories are obsessed with the terror of places: hotels haunted by memories, neighborhoods filled with ghosts, junkyards where bodies are hidden, towns abandoned and taken over by something sinister. also, completely detached from the quality of the writing, this book has one of the most striking covers I've encountered this year. the screaming yellow cover and bold purple text looked SO COOL under the purple string lights in my bedroom, which was a little +1 to my mood every time I saw it :)

Thirst (Marina Yuszczuk, trans. Heather Cleary 2024) - I think if I had to pick a favorite book from my spooktober reading, Thirst would edge Tell Me I'm Worthless out by just a hair, because I'm just SUCH a sucker for a modern gothic. this novel is split into two chunks. the first is narrated by a vampire (hinted to be one of Dracula's infamous brides) who flees the Old World and crosses the sea to find safety in a young Buenos Aires, where she struggles to figure out how to slake her thirst and escape from loneliness while avoiding detection in a modernizing world. ultimately she seals herself away in a crypt to escape the relentless pace of change around her, and that's when our perspective shifts. here we join a modern woman with a young son, an ex husband, and a dying mother, who's struggling under the pressure of grief as she watches her mother waste away. she ends up accidentally reawakening the vampire from the first half of the book, and you can imagine things get weirder from there. honestly, for me, the part of this book that's most brilliant is the latter half and it's deep meditation on grief, but the historical portion of the book also plays the vampire gothic to the hilt. delicious!

The Caped Crusade: Batman and the Rise of Nerd Culture (Glen Weldon, 2016) - this is a really fun piece of pop culture history, tracking how Batman came to be DC's little #1 it boy alongside the developing prominence of nerds and fandom as a cultural force to be reckoned with. as I said above, this was a reread for me, because I wanted to circle back now that I've actually read most of the major comic events discussed in the book. Weldon weaves between Batman in comics, TV, and movies to examine on how one portrayal influences another - for instance: the goofy '66 TV series saw a huge backlash in comics, which went way dark to reinforce a grim and serious Batman for 'real' fans who objected to the show making Batman a joke to much of the normie population - and I think that's a really neat lineage to trace. while I think Weldon is sometimes a bit too transparent with his own disdain for certain adaptations, he overall has an extremely levelheaded approach to Batfandom and a conversationally informative approach that I really enjoy. of particular note is the fact that Weldon is himself a gay man, making him one of the only writers I trust to talk about why he personally dislikes Joel Schmacher's movies without getting homophobic about it.

Luster (Raven Leilani, 2020) - this book!!! this was one of three novels recommended to me by Bonnie at Snowbound Books, and Bonnie if you are on this website I owe you my LIFE because you were 100% correct. I was obsessed from the very first line and it only gets better from there; Leilani's prose is painting a searing, witty Sistine Chapel to render her protagonist's miserable life in vivid color and detail. the short version is that our 23 year old hot mess finds herself jobless and homeless and ends up moving in with her married boyfriend who's 23 years her senior, where she forms a powerfully weird connection with his rage-filled wife and develops a bond with the couple's nerdy adopted daughter, as the two of them are the only Black women in the excessively white neighborhood. (spoiler alert: she also realizes that her married boyfriend is a fucking loser.) it's a simple enough premise but the execution is bananas in its flair. I couldn't believe this is Leilani's first and so far only novel; if she ever drops another I'll drag myself through barbed wire to get my hands on it.

Juniper & Thorn (Ava Reid, 2022) - I first became aware of this novel via twitter thread of Reid's that made its way to tumblr, in which Reid bemoaned being harangued by readers who were shocked that her dark fairy tale retelling had, you know, dark shit in it. having now read the book, I have to say: these people are fucking pussies. going into this book I was under the impression that there was full on-page father/daughter rape happening, which is actually NOT the case, so you can breathe easy if incest is a hard no for you. what's actually here is a wizard dad who's emotionally abusive, non-incestuous sexual abuse in the backstories of the main character and her love interest, some moderately explicit consensual sex, some bulimia, and [spoiler alert!] admittedly a lot more cannibalism than expected. it's not a lighthearted romp but it's also like, come on. come on. grow up. in terms of the actual book, rather than its controversy, I didn't LOVE it but I'm still compelled enough by the world building (particularly Jewish author Reid's Hueli people, who are a fairly obvious stand-in for Jews down to people claiming that they have horns and using phrenology to prove the have an unfair advantage at making money) that I'm going to check out Reid's earlier novel, The Wolf and the Woodsman, a novel set in the same world. it felt a little repetitive in places and the characters were largely pretty predictable, both of which may be a byproduct of trying to encapsulate the vibe of a classic fairy tale, but I had a good time reading it.

[beemovieerotica]

hey can you tell me how you got tested for OCD and/or started to think you had it?

yeeeess so it was literally 2018 when i was like "hm maybe i have OCD" to my therapist (who was not specialized in this) and she did not disagree with me and everything kind of clicked in that session between us when we both simultaneously realized a lot of my behaviors could be explained that way.

the hardest thing was that i'd already been diagnosed with generalized anxiety so like. "yes i obsess over conversations i've had or will have and repeat things over and over in my head" "yes i constantly check to make sure things are okay" "yes i hyperanalyze and hypercriticize myself" all got wrapped up in that.

i think the behavior that i actually brought up with that therapist that precipitated the realization was i started vacuuming a corner of my room repeatedly like over the course of several weeks, every day. just obsessively vacuuming this corner because i kept finding tiny cat litter crystals there from a previous tenant. i'd be literally picking it out of the carpet with my fingers with my head parallel to the floor just staring and trying to find these things for like an hour at a time. colossal waste of time. but it was "important." and i was finally like...THIS is excessive, right?

but i do a lot of things that are the opposite of "classic" OCD which confused me for YEARS - like i genuinely have such poor food hygiene and don't care about bodily fluids, i love touching sticky things, my personal things are poorly organized, my room was always a mess, etc etc.

i got officially evaluated when i went in for the psilocybin study (beginning of this year) where i met an OCD specialist for the first time who did this complete battery of questions with me. there were things i never realized were OCD for me:

very obsessed with parasitic insects and constantly checking for bedbugs and fleas even when i have no reason to suspect these things

constantly re-reading everything i write. 5x. 10x. saying whole sentences over and over in my head. the sentence is fine, i didn't make a mistake, but i just have to keep reading it to be 1000% sure.

rubbing my scalp a lot and pulling out random hairs on my legs, eyebrows, eyelashes

over-explaining so fucking much to be absolutely sure i'm not misunderstood or that someone can read bad intentions into what i'm saying. "predicting" conversations and anticipating entire lines of questioning and how i would defend myself. lol.

intrusive horror film-esque thoughts

being terrified as a child that i would be possessed by a demon if i yawned too wide - i had other extremely irrational superstitions that i would force on myself and try to live by for no reason, these started at like age 10

obsessions around my health (orthorexia, i've ping-ponged between various diets like vegan / gluten-free / vegetarian thinking that it would help me)

only ever felt normal when drinking. like i could just let go of the compulsions and anxiety while drunk.

it was really hard to even parse a lot of this out being 1) already anxious, 2) raised very religious, and 3) BOTH my parents and my older sister have OCD, so all this was just normal!! my mom also pulled out her hair. my mom and my sister also had eating disorders and very weird attitudes around medicine. superstitions and moral scrupulosity were encouraged in our community. i had no reason to think that any of this could all be linked back to an actual disorder.

i really wish i'd had intervention at least a decade or more earlier. this started when i was in grade school at least. it sucks. so much of the public perception of OCD is centered on the classic symmetry / cleanliness / hand-washing shit. it did not help that my family loved watching Monk when i was growing up so i was like "oh, i'm not like THAT" and never questioned it.

i think(?) i might go to the big OCD conference happening in the states next year, not sure, but i really want to talk to people about psilocybin. idk let me know if you have any other questions, i'm still processing a lot of this.