#more please!

[rigbykinnie]

"you need to be a non-binary protag in an indie game where you are dealing with forces beyond your comprehension (usually in a meta or religious way)" me asf:

[california-112]

*3/4 of the way through any X-Files episode*

Mulder: Scully, I'd like you to go and investigate something mildly dangerous by yourself.

Scully: Why, where are you going?

Mulder: To investigate the significantly more dangerous thing, also by myself. Don't worry, surely nothing bad will happen to me.

[melliemelons]

Re: the lil drabble that you wrote for the ask (same anon btw): Picture that for as much weight as the mother puts on, the babies put on even more. The majority of the calories are going to them and anyone can see it. Her tummy enters rooms far before she does... if she can even fit through the doorway. Her belly is wider than she is and there's no angle from which it can't be seen. Everyone in the neighborhood can't help but stare and gossip about how big she is and how much her babies must weigh. Every time she manages to find clothes that fit, the movements of her babies cause rips that spread like knocking over dominoes and buttons go flying like they were fired from a slingshot. When people touch her tummy without permission, she can't reach them to swat them away. Their movements have gotten so strong that when they kick, they almost knock her over. They jerk her forward and she has to follow along to keep from toppling over. The babies get a whiff of food and next thing she knows she's being forced toward yet another meal to feed her gluttonous brood. Sometimes her belly jumps from all of the activity inside, and it knocks things off of counters, upends furniture, makes all kinds of trouble. They're just too big and strong now, but she can't stop them from getting bigger and stronger when she keeps eating so much

Oooh, anon! You certainly know what gets me. 🤤 This is all so, so GOOD!

The poor thing is really just caught in a vicious cycle, isn't she? The larger her brood grows, the hungrier she gets, the more she consumes, the larger her brood becomes... it's almost as if she isn't in control of herself anymore. This is more than mere pregnancy brain. This is pregnancy worship, leaving her an absolute slave to the state of her body.

She can't even bear to look at her closet anymore. Why would she bother? Nothing in it has even come close to fitting for months now. In a pile in the corner is mangled and torn clothing, the victims of her frantic attempts to cover herself with something. Anything.

But then again, pregnant cows don't need to wear anything, do they? All they need to do is eat, and grow.

She barely notices that her due date has come and gone. Somewhere in the back of her mind, there's panic--how the hell is she supposed to birth babies that surely weigh near fifteen pounds apiece now? But then the aching in her stomach starts, those hunger pains that make the entirety of her gravid girth groan and gurgle.

She's not going to be mobile for much longer.

[nekogorogoro]

Finished Prodigy. Can't wait to watch it again tomorrow... er... later today. It's after 1am...

[respectthepetty]

Tajín in a Japanese BL!

I'm Team Trechas Spicy pero . . .

Are we putting it on fruit with chamoy? Are we putting it on a rim with some lime?

My mouth just watered up thinking about it.

I was not feeling this the first 13 minutes, and like magic, this moment turned everything around!

See you next week, Naked Dining.

[alien-hybreed]

Which of your characters do you most closely associate with?

Which of them would you change lives with even if just for 24 hours?

Hmm that's really tricky! Largely because I'm fickle and that answer could change on a whim, depending how I'm feeling. But also because I think there's bits of me in a lot of them and that shouldn't be surprising given how often I base their stories on dreams I've had?

I relate a lot to Michael in Overtime as someone who worked in fast food, had a crush on a co-worker, had a terrible boss who I also felt a peculiar attraction towards. (The difference being I did nothing about it. And neither of those women were aliens. I think...)

But also Ben in Overtime is also a bit self-inserty. Dude's withdrawn, quietly trying to chip away at his creative hobbies. And he's clearly on board with Monster Fucking from the way he encourages Rhiannon.

I think Michael is someone I was ten years ago and Ben is closer to who I am now.

But who would I change lives with, geez. I'm switchy as hell, so how's that feeling today? Do I crave escape? Freedom? Connection? Power? Or do I just want no thoughts, happy subservience?

Today I'd say The Queen's Pet. If I could be that guy slowly being corrupted by the bee queen right now? Becoming her monstrous concubine? That sounds nice.

[bembely]

I am currently reading Les Mis and this is STUNNING

Just rediscovered potentially the funniest thing I’ve written in recent memory

[unforth]

Y'all I know that when so-called AI generates ridiculous results it's hilarious and I find it as funny as the next guy but I NEED y'all to remember that every single time an AI answer is generated it uses 5x as much energy as a conventional websearch and burns through 10 ml of water. FOR EVERY ANSWER. Each big llm is equal to 300,000 kiligrams of carbon dioxide emissions.

LLMs are killing the environment, and when we generate answers for the lolz we're still contributing to it.

Stop using it. Stop using it for a.n.y.t.h.i.n.g. We need to kill it.

Sources:

[faeriekit]

"This fic was ai generated—" Cool, so lemme block you real quick

[oncorhynchus-nerka]

VERY IMPORTANT a dam in the Netherlands, the weerdsluis lock, is directly on a migratory path for spawning fish. They have a worker stationed there to open the door for the fish, but they can take a while to open it. So to keep the fish from getting preyed on by birds they installed a doorbell. Only, the fish don't have hands to ring the doorbell. If you go to their website, they have a LIVE CAMERA AND A DOORBELL that YOU RING FOR THE FISH when they're waiting, and then the dam worker opens the door for them! I can't express how obsessed I am with this. look at this shit. oh my god.

Please check on the fish doorbell once in a while :)

[artemisdesari-blog]

A writer friend told me something that broke my heart a little bit today; they're going to quit publishing their fanfic.

My instant thought was that they had been trolled or attacked or that something terrible had happened in their life because this person is so passionate about their writing. It wasn't any of that. Engagement with their works has been going down, as it has for many of us. Comments are like gold dust a lot of the time, and just looking through the historical comment counts on old fics on ao3 demonstrates this trend very clearly. It was not simply the comments dropping off which caused them to decide to stop posting, however.

My friend came across a discord server for their fandom (I should point out here that their fandom interest and mine diverged a couple of years ago, we stay in touch but don't currently read each other's posts because I'm not into their fandom and they would rather gouge their eyes out with a wooden spoon than read anything Star Wars) and specifically to share fic in that fandom. They joined, because we all love a good fic rec, only to discover that their latest multichapter fic, which has almost no comments and very few kudos, is being hotly discussed in this server as one of the best stories ever. Not one of these people has bothered to say this to them on the fic. When they asked, none of participants could see the point in telling the author of the fic they apparently loved so much that they love it.

This discovery has absolutely destroyed my friend's love of sharing fic. They share because they love seeing other people's enjoyment, and fic writers do that through comments and kudos/reblogs/likes because we don't get paid. There is no literary critic writing a blog post/article about how amazing the story is for us to copy and keep/frame. There is no money from royalties. All we have are the words of the people reading our works.

Those people on that server could have taken five minutes of the time they spent gushing about how amazing my friend's story was to other people and used it to tell the one person guaranteed to want to hear that praise how much they loved it. They could have taken a moment to express their opinion to the person who spent hours upon hours plotting, writing, editing, and posting those chapters. Instead, they deprived my friend of thing that keeps them sharing their writing, and in the process have killed their love of it. My friend now feels used and unmotivated.

I won't be sharing a link to their fic, they said I could share their experience but not their identity. I know they plan to post one final chapter. I know they intend to express their hurt at being excluded from the praise for the thing they created, and I know they intend to announce that as a consequence they will not be posting for a long while, if at all.

So please, I beg you, don't hide your love of a story from the writer. It's just about the only thing we have.

[girldraki]

this is insane

[beemochi-art]

Did you hear Elon wants to buy Hasbro?

[yunggoblin]

FUCKKKK 💦💦💦

Later

Black Noir x GN!Reader 

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Word Count: 1.7k

Warnings: 18+ (minors DNI) tiny size kink, unprotected vaginal sex, rough sex, almost a “caught in the act” situation, brief mention of knives

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A/N: nobody look at me I’m going through a phase. 

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Black Noir Masterlist

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It began the first night you met, his attraction for you. He found you interesting, mesmerizing, your presence making his focus falter. You were new and foreign to him and everyone else in that room. As soon as you walked in, his attention turned to you. It was the middle of a meeting, too, a setting he’s quite attuned to. It’s shocking you were able to pull him away just by being you. 

As for the others, they could tell he was distracted. Black Noir never spoke but for some reason, they could tell his focus was elsewhere, too. For the rest of their meeting, he couldn’t seem to get his head out of the gutter. All he could think about was finding you, figuring out who you were, and getting to know what you liked. Besides, the meeting was getting boring anyway. As soon as it was over, he shot up from his seat, intent on finding you. He wasn’t sure what he’d do when he found you, maybe just observe you, detail you. He wasn’t expecting this, though. At least not right away. 

You weren’t immune to Noir’s interest; you felt it when you were in that room, too. When you left, you thought about him, wondered how often you’d see him. You were a new assistant, after all, so you were hoping your chances were good. They were better than you realized. 

“Noir…” you sighed, fingernails scraping along his shoulders. 

He grunts, reaching up and grabbing hold of your wrists. Your fingertips knocked the knives on the upper part of his suit, the ones at the top of his back. With intense force he slams your hands above your head; he doesn’t want you touching them. 

It’d become a regular occurrence, the two of you seeing each other. It wasn’t anything besides sex, that’s what you told yourself. But it was becoming addictive. And he was becoming possessive. 

“Oh,” you gasp out, feeling his body weight press into you. 

He’s holding you down, his right hand grabbing you as he maneuvers to hold both your wrists with his left. Gloved fingers dig into your hip, Noir’s pelvis slapping down onto your own. The only part of his armor he ever removed around you was the piece around his groin; he didn’t want to hurt you. But other than that, he kept everything on. He didn’t want you to see a single part of him, not even the part currently plummeting into your core. 

“Holy, fuck - ” 

The first time he took you was against the interior door of his home, his suite in Vought’s tower. It was after that first meeting; he found you about five minutes later. You hadn’t wandered far and even if you had, it would have been easy for him to find you. 

You can hear his rough groans beside your ear as he leans down, pressing his face into the crook of your neck. His breaths are ragged, his movements firm and full of strength. You used to be able to count on one hand how many times the two of you collided, the occurrence happening every so often after the first. But now, you can’t keep track at all. When you were with him, you felt lighter than air, like your body could float away if he wasn’t there to pin you down. And Jesus, did he pin you down. Noir always used his strength and size against you, and to say the least, it couldn’t be any fucking hotter. 

Suddenly, he leans back, lifting himself from you. His mask is dark, just like the room, but you can still see his eyes; or at least, where they’re supposed to be, where they are underneath his mask. He’s still pinning your hands down, feeling your legs wrap around his waist as he moves. His hips snap into you sharply, repeatedly, his heart pounding when he hears your audible gasp. 

“Fuck,” your eyes roll back in your head, feeling a powerful wave of euphoria overcome you. 

When he sees your reaction, his grip on you tightens, knowing how much you love it. Something overcame him after he’d been inside you so many times, his passion and strength overwhelming his body. At first he saw shock, maybe even fear in your eyes when he restrained you. But you were safe with him, always safe. Inside, Noir was a gentle soul, maybe even a little shy. That’s why your immediate attraction surprised him. He wasn’t sure what he intended to do when he first found you, but he’s glad that you decided to make the first move. 

Quickly, the hand he has on your hip flies to the underside of your thigh, bending your leg and pushing it back against your chest. He loves to see you stretch for him, fucking lives to hear and feel you react to him. 

“Oh my god, baby, p - please don’t stop, ugh.” 

Baby, a name far too sweet for him. But he likes the sound of it when it comes from you.

He groans when you speak to him, moan for him, it’s so much better that way. He loves it when you’re vocal, evidenced by his grip tightening on your wrists and thigh, the thickness of him pulsing inside. He’s piercing something deep, and you honestly feel like you’re on an entirely different existential plane. You’ve never had sex this good before, not in your entire life. Does he feel the same? 

“M-mm,” he suddenly grunts, a harsh, punched-out sound. He doesn’t make many loud sounds, but that one, that one tells you he’s close. 

“Noir?” Maeve suddenly yells, pounding on his exterior door. 

He whips his head around, the rest of his body still going full bore. What he hears next isn’t Maeve, though, it’s you. Your shrill cries worry him now that his teammate is right outside his door. Abruptly, he pulls out, hearing your exhausted sigh. Noir’s hand then slaps down over your mouth, quieting your moans. 

“Mm…” you mumble timidly beneath his hand, feeling his capable muscles begin to move your bliss-filled body.

Noir steps back off the bed, pulling you with him by your hips. He flips you onto your stomach, bending you over the side while his chest continues to release his heavy breaths. His hand leaves briefly as he moves you into this new position, quickly returning to your hip when you’re where he wants. Now if he needs to silence you, he’ll be able to do it while he’s inside you. 

“Noir!” Maeve shouts, pounding on the door again. 

And then… silence. Maybe she went away?

He decides to take the chance. Without missing a beat, Noir slides back in, hands cementing to your hips as he resumes his previous pace. He’s pounding into you, and with what strength you have left, you move, too. You can hear his low growl when you bounce back against him, the hand on your hip sliding down to grip the fat of your ass. You were naked for him, your body exposed completely. He liked it that way; seeing your entire body made his tense. 

“I can hear you in there!” Maeve’s shrill yell makes you jump, releasing a small squeal. 

Forcefully, Noir shoves your face down into the sheets, his hand on the back of your head as he presses you into the bed. With the way he’s moving, you’re not going to last long, and neither is he. But he has to go soon, you both know it, so he needs to finish this. 

“What are you doing? You’re going to be late!” 

It’s not like him to be late; he’s always on time, always reliable, especially to Homelander. He’ll know something is up if Black Noir isn’t in his seat soon. They’re going to find out, fuck. Nobody knows about the two of you, and nobody should. You both want to keep it that way, he wants to keep it that way. It’s for your own good; he wants to keep you safe from them. They’d without a doubt ruin this if they ever got the chance to. He might never see you again if they got to you.

With another few firm snaps of his hips, he’s groaning behind you, his body tensing as his head slowly tilts down. The hand on your head slides down to the back of your neck, now not as tight as before. His ragged breaths are just barely audible to you, only because he’s so close. Noir’s hand continues to move, slowly gliding over your back. He didn’t used to do things like this, he used to always be rough with you, and you were fine with that. But now, after he’s done, he still clings to you. His hips still roll gently into you, his palms roam over you, petting at you. It’s almost like he’s saying thank you, like he’s telling you without words that he enjoys you. 

You’re breathing heavily, slightly disappointed in all honesty. You didn’t get to finish and more often than not, Noir did that for you. Regardless, you enjoyed it, you always enjoyed him. 

Placing his palms on either one of your cheeks, he slowly pulls out, releasing a low breath. And you sigh when he does it, finally able to keep yourself quiet. It makes him happy to hear your relaxed and steady breaths, your body completely laid out and resting on his bed. 

Like his attire, Noir’s interior design was entirely dark, made mostly of deep grays and blacks. It looks modern and sleek, and you were always comfortable here. It was tidy and neat and always smelled fresh. He kept his space nice, whether he knew you were coming over or not. Oftentimes, your encounters were a surprise to you both. But ever since the first one, you were impressed with his cleanliness. 

When he moves away from you, you begin to lift yourself from the bed. But then, he walks beside you, pulling out one of the drawers in his nightstand. A pen and notepad are what he grabs, quickly scribbling something down and tossing it before you on the bed. Noir then walks past you, his hand landing on your back and trailing gently along its dip, then the curve of your backside, before leaving the room. A minute passes and you can hear him open his front door, closing it shortly thereafter. Grinning, you stare at the paper, wondering if he wants you to just stay until he comes back. You probably will, the one word prompting another encounter for the two of you.

Later.

Thank you for reading <3

[lordofthenightfruitt]

New Minecraft trailer

WHAT?!?!

!?!!?!!?