#space does that to you/j

[obsidian-art04]

Redesigns of my ocs that were inspired by voltron :D

[The many designs below the cut]

In order from oldest to newest:

Bonus height chart lol

[piromantic]

i know i say 'i wanna make a video essay about xyz' like once every three months and i've never followed through but hoooly shit i want to make a video essay on queerbaiting in gacha games

[welcometogrouchland]

Thought about Damian and Dick's dynamic for too long and now I need to level a city block

[bones-sprouts]

Curses. now i am thinking about her

Oh well. anyway Jennifer Jameson aka Spinning Jenny is a young woman in early 1800s England. Her father, John Jonah Jameson, runs the local paper and is eccentric about his craft. However, he is firm in his belief that his daughter has no business endangering herself the chaos of the crowd. If she so dreams of learning the truth of the world, she can do so by working to build the nation's roots - with needle and thread.

Jennifer resorts to busying herself in the factories, learning the trade. And although whenever she comes home her news of revolutionary inventions are ignored, she is glad to be doing something with her time.

Thats all i got for now as i look at spiders and also pretty 1800s fashion

SHES JONAHS KID?????? OH MY GOD I LOVE THAT SO SO MUCH

she comes home every day like 'dad you would not believe the shit that is happening in these factories the inventions are like nothing we've ever seen before you have to write about this' and he's like 'not now sweetie i have to write about how spinning jenny is a menace to society'

love the energy of her just kinda trying to fill her time with factory work it leaves so much room for her to come of age when she adopts the spiderman moniker,,,, she can finally learn the truth of the world even if it isn't as idealistic as she believed it would be,,,, oughh her

[out-of-heaven-and-hell]

Listen to me when I tell you this is unironically an inspo for Belphegor

[taffy-glitch]

J0hn or Date!

J0hn. sorry Date you're just not as gay as him :/

[evilminji]

Okay but? We of the DPxDC? Are COMPLETELY Sleeping on DPXBNHA?

And not even for the Main Plot Shenanigans!

Just?? It has ALL of DC's super powers? But MORE OF THEM. And like 80% of the population has um! Danny can?? Finally achieve his DREAM of being???

JUST SOME DUDE™!

Yeah, he's in Japan. That's a bit of a learning curve. And YEAH, there was a cataclysmic war like a few centuries back that sorta... fucked everybody up. No one wants to talk about it. There may be mass graves and Never Forget memorials. But?

On the SURFACE!

This place seems utopian!

No ghost hunters! Advanced technology! Robust social services*!

Wait... what was that asterisk? What do you mean "corrupt shadowy government organizations"? What do you MEAN "Immortal Supervillians"? NO SPACE PROGRAM!?!? AaaaaAAAAAAAAAAH?!?!? I'M IN HELL!!! This is ACTUALLY THE BAD PLACE, THIS IS HELL, OH GOD NOOOOOOO-!!!!!!

Cause see?

There are SO MANY REASONS he'd end up there?

Think about it! Wish that he lived somewhere his weird biology wouldn't exclude him from becoming an astronaut? In Quirks having Bnha Japan EVERYBODY has weird biology! Y'ain't special! You could TOTALLY be an astronaut!..... if we HAD those! We do not. Shut down that program during the Quirk Wars and never really started it again. (And somewhere, Desiree LAUGHS)

Or MAYBE? Things are getting a little hot on the ground? Bit TOO spicy. The Family Fenton and Friends have fallen back, behind the barely holding shields. Not even the Mansons considerable political maneuvering could stop the inevitably of human fear and blind unthinking hatred. Money can't buy everything, in the end. There is only ONE(1) way out.

Through the Zone.

Plan: Strangers In A Strange World is a go.

They're all Limnal enough to fake it. Sam with her plants. Tucker with his technology and persuasion. Jazz with her limited empathy. Their parents with their... well, weirdness. And with a touch of ghostly assisted meddling? Well, they've always BEEN there! Haven't they?

And that's not to MENTION the random 4 year olds with no control! JUST coming into their powers! With all those big emotions in tiny bodies? Startling events and tantrums? Villian attacks? What could THEY possibly hope to do to control or guide that fresh new power? It does what it does and the rest of us are just along for the ride!

If Danny happens to be minding his business and gets accidentally kidnapped by a VERY distraught 4 year old? Well, that's hardly the KIDS fault, now is it? They're FOUR! That is basically a toddler! Tiny child! They are upset, confused, and didn't mean to do ANYTHING. He's a hero. And Heros don't blame little kids from accidents, no matter HOW stressed it makes them.

No, the curse like a sailor INSIDE their head. Like an ADULT.

Just? Imagine~☆

The slow transition from *starry eyed shoujo sparkles* "This is SO COOL~!" to "huh, that's... kinda weird. And Sus. Weird Sus. Maybe nothing... oh! A distraction!" To "okay, this KEEPS happening, that was shady. You all saw that right? You realize that's not NORMAL, right? That that's fucked up? Not cool?" To "oh god, oh God, OH GOD! I'm in HELL! This is actually HELL! I'm trapped in HELL!!! WHAT THE FUC-"

Like? This kid LOVES space. LOVES the stars. And this is one of the few Superhero Cannon that SPECIFICALLY MENTIONS that IN CANNON? Thanks to Quirks? As in Superpowers? That VERY THING got fuckin SCRAPPED. Gutted. Consigned to be a relic of the past so they could all focus on punching each other Real Good.

He would weep BLOOD. Chew the WALLS. The LEVEL of unhinged this child would unleash? Not as Danny Phantom... but as DANNY J. FENTON? Beautiful. Vaguely psychotic. Definitely doing the Fenton Name proud. God, the NOISE HE WOULD MAKE would be inhuman and yet somehow? Come entirely from his human half.

They👏 Would👏 Hear👏 BOSS👏 MUSIC👏

I don't even know if he'd CARE about the main characters. They'd be tangential at best. The man would be in a one man war with I-Island over their lack of space program and hoarding of scientific progress. Probably living out of an abandoned building or forgotten subway station. Just? The MOST bedraggled, feral genius to ever haunt Japan.

As opposed to the REFINED feral genius. Who is Nedzu.

I bet Danny stands outside his school at one AM waving his scientific papers at a camera and YELLS. Like a deranged lunatic. Mismatched slippers and a "haven't slept in a week" crazed glint in his eyes.

He's Nedzu's new best friend. They GET each other.

And, yes, Nedzu COULD let him in... but it's faster to just let him yell and read the papers through the camera. Who CARES if they both seem insane! Let's shout about advanced physics and engineering at 1 am! Over the speakers!!! Oh? You need to physically SHOW me the notes? Well I COULD unlock the gates... OR just wait for you to finish scrambling up the walls like a feral Racoon, to then throw yourself OVER them.

Either, Or.

I'm just SAYING! We are SLEEPING on this! There is so, SO much fun to be had! Danny breaks rules and minds! His outrage over injustice and the complete lack of SPACE! His protection instincts going BUCK FUCKIN WILD. The INDESCRIBABLE hate boner he would have for Mr. "Lemme just rip parts of your soul out so I can collect your powers like pokemon cards" AfO.

There? Is SO MUCH, guys. SO MUCH!

@hdgnj @the-witchhunter @babbling-babull @hypewinter @nerdpoe @lolottes @dcxdpdabbles @mutable-manifestation

[hoshigray]

iillly happy bday bbgggg pls BULLY SATORUUUUU pleasepleaseoHFGOSH

𝐚. 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: THANK YOU AND BET !!

⊹ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: Gojo x fem! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - modern au! college setting; you + satoru are juniors - sex in a public space; library study room - breast fondling + nipple play - sex on a table - overstimulation - pet names (crybaby, cutie, pretty girl) - clitoral play (pinching and swiping) - unprotected sex (psa: wrap that shit up, kiddos ) - mention of cervix and tears.

⊹ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.1k

“Ahhaaa! Thhh, shtopp! T’oo fast…!!”

“Yeah, goin’ too fast? Hnnmm, shit…tell that to your hips.”

This is not how this day was supposed to go, but that’s what having a bully in your life is like, right?

Today was one of those days where you’d spend most of your leisure time studying and catching up on upcoming coursework before the weekend, savoring your free days to rest and do some light reading for Monday. So here you were, spending the Thursday evening at the library in a study room you reserved until closing time. Fingers are typing away on your keyboard, putting words to your Word document while taking pieces of your french fries to munch—your study snack from the dining hall. 

And everything was going swimmingly, feeling the groove of things operate accordingly while bumping to your music.

Until your eyes snap to the door opening, and they widen at the sight of the culprit. Snow white hair and round glasses, and your stomach drops. “G-Gojo?”

“Yo!” He chips with a smirk, stepping inside and closing the door with his heel. You could’ve sworn you locked that door, but you’re sure it is now after he does it for you. “I knew I saw you walking out from the dining hall; the nerd is all cooped up in the library. Whatcha up to?”

“I, umm,” your gaze moves to your Word document, not wanting to see Gojo walk to where you’re sitting at the rectangle table. “J-Just, getting ready for a group seminar tomorrow…Need my notes ready.”

The tall boy slides his backpack off and drops it to the chair on the side of the table. His closing the door blinds and striding back to you grows the unsettling feeling in your tummy. “Ehhh, notes? Must be bored.”

“Not really…” It’s challenging to channel your focus on something productive when you watch from your peripheral with every step he takes until he’s behind you. “Just need to answer four more questions, and then I’ll,” your body rigid when he places his hands on your shoulders—there’s no escape now. “…I’ll be done.”

“Mmmm,” he hums and puts his chin to your head. “Working so hard, huh?” He kneads your shoulders and travels down to your arms. “I think it’s about time you give yourself a break.”

“Gojo, please,” pleads teeter out your mouth, yet your futile attempt to stand is refuted.

“Whaaat? You gotta give yourself breaks, right?” He moves his face to your shoulder to whine. “Can’t help a friend relax for a bit from studying?”

You open your mouth to respond, but words don’t leave your lips—a moan is snuck out from his hands, finding your chest. Sneaking inside your shirt to cup and soft mounds behind your bra. “Nnnn, n-no, we can’t…not here—“

“Psshh, you’re no fun, baby,” he coos to your ear, tweaking a nipple for you to squeak. “It won’t be for long, promise. Besides,” you turn to him, his blue orbs seen better from the dark shades now that you’re closer. “No one knows better to care for you than me, right? C’mon, just five minutes, and I’ll go, ‘kay?”

Your stomach has not stopped contorting knots ever since you saw that door open, and now you’re in a dilemma you prayed wouldn’t happen today. Regardless, you only have to give him what he wants, and you can return to work. So, you swallow your pride and kiss him on his soft lips. 

“—Ohhhh, y-you said for fi—Iiiive minutes…!!”

“Hahhh, did I say that? Heh, must be bad with time.”

Deliberately making a supposed five-minute break turn into nearly thirty minutes isn’t terrible with time—just plain ignorant. 

Your laptop, course material, and Gojo’s shades are pushed further into the table, substituting them with your figure to be laid on the edge of the table surface. Your bottoms and panties were stripped to the ground with Gojo’s jeans, your sexes exposed and now joined in the union as he propels his hips to pound into your chasm. Your cunt was a mess, slick, and come mixed and collecting in a soapy ring with the back-and-forth motions of your junior bully. 

The walls of the library rooms aren’t the best, nearly paper-thin to hear convos from one room to the other. You bite your lips to try to conceal your cries, but the curve of Gojo’s dick poking your walls have you screaming silently. “Fuck, pretty girl,” he intentionally grinds his pelvis to your folds, the broken wails egging him on to tease you more. “Scared someone will come and find us, huh? Scardey-cat,” the hands to your wrists pull you in with every rut. 

“Gaaahh, Gojooohhh,” your brows sewn together after the stimulation of your G-spot is hit yet again. “I’m sens’tiveee, go sloooww!”

“Shiiiit, that’s kinda hard when you’re clenching me so hard,” he hisses with a sigh. “Pretty much asking for me to mess you up.”

You shake your head at the brush of his tip hitting your cervix. “Ahaaaa, ohhJesus,” tears well up in your eyes with another jab to your womb.

“Oh, is the lil’ nerd about to cry?” Gojo bends down to you while his hips keep working, his flushed face inches closer to yours, and he wipes a tear with a thumb. “Awww, don’t do that; don’t want people next door to see what’s up with you.” His thumb enters your mouth, your tongue tasting your salty tear.

You sob on his digit, licking his thumb, and more twitches of your vagina come from more grazes on your inner texture. “Nhhooh, ahhhmyGod, good, feels tew goood…!”

Gojo can feel it; you’re clasping onto his length way too much not to notice. He snickers, “Gonna cum, baby?” You nod hurriedly, and he brings his forehead onto yours. “Want me to help you with that?” Too enraptured that you don’t notice him sneaking his hand to your lower half and a pinch to your clitoris has you cry. “Shhh, shhh,” he coaxes to your ear, his thumb swiping on the bud as you sob in parts. “Go ahead, wring me out, you slutty crybaby.”

Another pinch, and you’re contracting around him hard. Your orgasm hits you right there, the hot feeling of your body is washed with a sharp cold that rattles your legs. Hands come and grip the back of Gojo’s long sleeve, your cunt flitting on him as your body jolts from pleasure.

Gojo hurries to pull out and stroke his cock, his seed spilling out to paint your messy slit with the come oozing out from your hole. He throws his head back in bliss. “Shit, that felt good.”

“I,” you are stuck in a daze, yet you try to communicate. “I have to…get back to studyinng.”

“You still have some of those pills from last time?” You nod slowly as he brings his briefs and jeans back on. “Good! Be right back; gonna get some wipes from the restroom.” He then leaves and closes the door on his way out, leaving you cold and helpless on the table surface.

And now you know. Note to self: lock the door whenever you study at the library.

© 𝐇𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐲2024 – reblogs and comments are appreciated wholeheartedly ✩ dividers by @/animatedglittergraphics-n-more.

[entitled-fangirl]

Peculiar.

Cregan Stark x seer!reader

Summary: the reader whispers away, but Cregan doesn’t mind.

Masterlist

…………………………

"My love? What are you doing?"

Y/n sat in the middle of the garden in the dark, something in her hand.

"It's cold, my dear wife. What has caught your attention?" Cregan tried again.

A frog sat in her hand and she didn't let her gaze leave it. "The lead-footed toad will try to grow a hand," she whispered softly to herself.

He let out a soft sigh, knowing she was stuck in her head. He knelt down next to her, looking at the frog. "Are you cold?"

"The lead-footed toad."

"I know," he whispered back. "I know. But are you cold, my love?"

No answer came from her.

He reached up and gently touched her shoulder, and when she flinched instinctively, he was ready to calm her, "Shh. It's just me."

She relaxed at that, as if finally returning to the world. The frog had jumped from her hand when she had flinched and she looked back to her hand and began to frantically search the dirt around her for it.

Cregan reached out and grabbed her hands, "Hey. Hey. C'mere."

She looked back up at him, "It will try to grow a hand, Cregan."

He nodded, "I understand." He never quite did, but he knew better than to try to make it make sense to him. If it made sense to her, that's all that mattered. "You're freezing. Let us return to the warm walls, yes?"

"What if it succeeds?"

He frowned, "The toad?"

She nodded.

He shrugged, "Then he'll be the first of his kind, I suppose. But that's quite unlikely, don't you think?"

She considers his words and eventually nods, "Yes. Yes. I think so."

He smiles and brushes hair from her face, "C'mon. Up."

The two returned to the castle, but not without a last look at the dirt her frog had once been in.

…

The next spell happened in the dead of night.

It was actually quite unusual for it to surprise her in sleep.

She sat up, wide eyed, and in a dead sweat. Her breathing was erratic.

She looked to Cregan who slept like the dead.

The dead.

Her dream. "The fire will drown all but the two deserving of dying and they will claim it for themselves," she whispered to remember.

She pulled the blankets from herself and got up from the bed and moved to the fireplace.

She stared at the flames.

The fire will drown them.

Even she couldn't understand who.

Cregan rubbed his eyes and looked to her side of the bed, immediately frowning when she was not there.

He sat up, scanning the room and relaxing when he saw her, "Sweet girl?" His voice echoed in the quiet room.

She looked over her shoulder to him and wiped her face, "Sorry. Couldn't sleep."

He nodded, running a hand through his hair. "Alright," he said awkwardly. He wasn't sure what to do. "Want to talk about it?”

"Hmm?"

"The dream I know you had." He stated. "Do you want to talk about it?"

She hummed, "No. I don't think so."

"Come back to bed then."

"In a minute."

Cregan fell back onto the bed dramatically, "I shall catch hypothermia if my dear wife does not come warm me!"

She giggled, much more eager to join him.

His methods worked, and she was soon asleep on his chest.

…

The third one was sudden.

Cregan was busy sparring in the courtyard with a fellow swordsman, perfecting his skills.

She sat not too far with a book she was engrossed in.

But she suddenly dropped it and held her hands on either side of her head and her face scrunched in pain.

Cregan heard her whimper and he quickly abandoned his sword to move to her, "What's going on?"

She shook her head.

He knew the best method in this instance was to give her space, no matter how much he didn't want to.

She had a very sharp intake of breath and her eyes shot open. "Poison will stain the mouth of the ruler of the sun."

He tilted his head, "Hmm?"

"The… the poison. The sun…" Her voice faded as if uncertainty took over. "The ruler of the sun…"

He knelt in front of her, "You alright?"

She looked to him with a furrowed brow but she eventually nodded.

He let out a soft breath, leaning forward to capture her lips for just a moment.

He pulled away, "Let me clean up, and we'll discuss this 'ruler of the sun'. Yes?"

She let out a radiant smile, "Please."

He couldn't stop a small smile from running across his face as well.

She was such a peculiar thing, but he adored it.

……………………………..

Cregan Stark taglist: @misswynters, @cosmosnkaz, @sithapprentice, @kaniromi, @lovemesomevesey, @its-jackie-bb, @callsignwidow, @8812-342, @nyxbranwenn, @thorins-queen-of-erebor

[shoccoe]

So… I may or may not have written an entire Conlang based on a single joke in Minecraft Parkour Civilization 2. That would be ridiculous. Aha. Hahahaha. Ha.

*cough*

A Quick Guide to Writing in Parkour

Flourish List.

You add these in front of blocks to change their meaning. There’s a key at the bottom containing the Parkour alphabet which demonstrates how the space, 180°, 360°, and 720° Flourishes are used to refer to specific English-Letter analogs.

_ = Space

C = 180° Flourish = 5 spaces

O = 360° Flourish = 10 spaces

8 = 720° Flourish = 20 spaces

? = Reverse = Reverses input

^ = Vertical Jump = Raises Intensity

v = Drop = Lowers Intensity

Block List.

These are the building blocks (lmfao) of the language and are what would be counted as an “input” or “letter”. Also included are short legends under each block describing what each flourish does to each block!

(Note! _,C,O, and 8 cannot be applied to any block other than [ ] and H)

[ ] = Block = Grammatical Value

(?[ ] = Capitalized)

(^[ ] = Impassioned)

(v[ ] = Depressed)

H = Fence = Numerical Value

(?H = Negative)

(^H = Exponential)

(vH = Square Root)

u = Pot = Period

(?u = Comma)

(^u = Hyphen/Equality)

(vu = Parentheses)

I = Pane = Question

(?I = Exclamation)

(^I = Command)

(vI = Sarcasm)

% = Brewing Stand = Addition

(?% = Subtraction)

(^% = Multiplication)

(v% = Division)

Alphabet

a = [ ]

b = _[ ]

c = __[ ]

ch = ___[ ]

d = ____[ ]

e = C[ ]

f = _C[ ]

g = __C[ ]

h = ___C[ ]

i = ____C[ ]

j = O[ ]

l = _O[ ]

m = __O[ ]

n = ___O[ ]

o = ____O[ ]

p = OC[ ]

r = _OC[ ]

s = __OC[ ]

sh = ___OC[ ]

t = ____OC[ ]

th = 8[ ]

u = _8[ ]

v = __8[ ]

w = ___8[ ]

y = ____8[ ]

Numbers

0 = H

1 = _H

2 = __H

3 = ___H

4 = ____H

5 = CH

6 = _CH

7 = __CH

8 = ___CH

9 = ____CH

Now that you have all the tools, let’s put it all together~!

————————————

?8[ ]____C[ ]__OC[ ] ____C[ ]__OC[ ] OC[ ][ ]_OC[ ]__[ ]____O[ ]_8[ ]_OC[ ]?I

____CHH% _HH ^u _HHH

?C[ ][ ]____OC[ ] 8[ ]C[ ] _OC[ ]____C[ ]___[ ]^I

————————————

Big thanks to my friend PrismaticKoi for giving me the idea and helping me figure this all out! Working with her made this process super fun!!!

Enjoy Parkour-!!! I’ll be coding an English<—>Parkour translator at some point, so stick around to find that!!

All of you need to go watch Minecraft Parkour Civilization though. It’s seriously fantastic.

[put-me-through-the-wall]

Girl Next Door

Simon 'Ghost' Riley x reader

Word count: 1.8k

Summary: Simon is a simple man who doesn't ask for much. Just a bit of peace to come home to. When suddenly you pop in to interrupt his tranquility. Maybe he doesn't completely hate it...

A/N: This is fluff if you squint. Slow burn?? This will probably just be part one if y'all dig the concept. Let me know what you think.

━━━━⊱♡⊰━━━━

Simon loves sitting on his balcony in the evening. He loved it before his new neighbor moved in. He wasn't the type to be overly concerned about the actions of other tenants. If someone was too loud, he'd just turn up the television. Banging from upstairs, he'd play some music. Smoking pot outside, that's fine he smokes cigarettes. And he was never one to meddle in others personal lives. He sought sanctuary in his alone time. 

While unlocking his front door one day he couldn't ignore the soft grunting coming from down the hallway behind him. He turns to see someone coming out of the stairwell with a box so big he can only make out a pair of hands on the sides and little legs coming out the bottom. He watched as you waddled all the way to the door right next to his own. You drop the box with a huff, leaning forward on the cardboard to catch your breath. 

"Hi neighbor," you greet between pants. You're wearing some baggy clothes and a beat up baseball cap, wide eyes staring up at him from under its brim. Just a hint of sweat speckling your temples. "Sorry for the noise, I promise I'm not a normally noisy person." you smile. 

"Hope not," he grunts and enters his own residence. Closing the door firmly without a second look. 

𝜗𝜚

The next day while he's drinking his morning coffee and going through his emails he is disturbed by a politely quiet knock on the door. When he looks through the peephole he sees you again. This time with your hair down, wearing a sundress. Looking a lot more put together. You're holding a tray in your hands. He opens the door but does not release the door chain, leaving only a crack in the door to reveal himself.

"Can I help you," he grumbles in a flat tone.

"Hey neighbor!" You don't let the small allowance of space dampen your spirit or at least you don't show it. "I made some cookies. I'd like to think it's good luck to christen a new place by making something sweet in it. The recipe ended up making way more than I planned for so I figured it would be the neighborly thing to do to offer you some." You give your brightest smile hoping to win him over. 

"I don't like sweets," he states.

"Oh, really? I thought everyone liked sweets..." Your shoulders slump the smallest bit as you pause for a moment in thought. "Well, I've got a baked ziti in the oven. It should be ready in about thirty minutes. I could pop by and drop off some when it's done, if you'd like?"

"Yeah, no thanks." He doesn't allow you to respond when he closes the door in your face. Simon is a distrustful man by nature and he won't let a sweet girl with a tray of goodies change that. They did smell really good though. He can't help himself when he looks through his peephole to watch you leave. You let out a defeated sigh and shuffle back to your apartment next door. 

𝜗𝜚

A few days later he runs into you again. He steps into the elevator, presses the button for the lobby, when he hears a familiar voice calling. 

"Wait, hold the elevator please!" You shout down the hallway. You jog towards the lift, trying to get your purse on your shoulder with one hand while balancing your phone, keys, and a travel mug in the other. Your jacket is only half on and the straps on your shoes are undone. Simon groans under his breath but, out of a second of sympathy, he holds his arm out to block the doors from closing. 

"Thank you," you say breathlessly and duck underneath his outstretched arm. "I'm a running little behind this morning." 

"No problem." His eyes remain forward, watching the doors slide shut as the two of you start descending. You finish putting on your jacket and run your fingers to settle your frazzled hair. 

"Can you hold this for a second?" 

"Uh.." He doesn't get a chance to answer when you're thrusting your warm cup into his hands. He watches as you shove your phone and keys into your purse then bend down to finish buckling the straps on your shoes. Unbothered when your skirt rides up your leg exposing your upper thigh. 

You stand back up, straightening your blouse. "Thanks again" You take the cup back allowing him to shove his hands into the pockets of his jacket. "Hey, I'm sorry if I came off as strong the other day."

"It's fine"

"I'm not the best with first impressions." He doesn't respond so you continue. "I didn't mean to intrude either. I'm sure you're a very busy man. Me too, I'm pretty busy with work and stuff. I write for the paper. Well, I am writing the cooking column right now but I'm hoping to get bumped up soon. Maybe something like crime would be cool. What about you? What do you do for work?"

The elevator's ding signals you've arrived at the lobby. As the doors open Simon turns to his head slowly to look at you and nods towards the open doors. 

"Ladies first" 

He wasn't fooled by your clumsy persona, he could feel an ulterior motive in you. He watched as you sauntered off. You are much more professional now, as you pull out a pair of sunglasses and slide them on. He watched the way your hips swayed in your tight skirt. You looked over your shoulder and smiled sweetly at him. Simon waits until you're pushing open the glass paneled double doors before he heads out of the lift himself. 

As you make it onto the city sidewalk, a man runs right into you, causing your coffee to spill down the front of your shirt. You gasp as the hot liquid splashes onto your freshly ironed blouse and down your chest. The man hardly pauses before redirecting around you looking irritated. You spin back around with a huff and shove back into the lobby, pacing to the elevator. 

"Hold the door, please" you groan, marching back while Simon blocks the doors again, containing his laugh into a tight smirk.

𝜗𝜚

Whenever you caught a glimpse of Simon you were quick to skip over and start a conversation. Which was quite a bit. It seemed he was always running into you. The elevator, the apartment gym, while taking out trash, in the parking garage, as he unlocks his door. Most of the conversation being one sided. He was starting to learn more about your life, all the information against his will, of course. 

You were a recipe columnist, also a great cook. You liked dogs but really wanted a cat. You were a single child. You moved here to get a fresh start after a bad relationship. You don't have many friends, that one is pretty obvious.

Then one night, while Simon is trying to enjoy a smoke outside on his balcony he's disturbed by loud shouting in your apartment. Not in your usual bubbly tone, no you sounded angry. He couldn't understand the words you were saying through the glass of your patio door. Then a deep voice is shouting back at you. After a few minutes of listening to the back and forth, your front door slams and then there is stillness. The moment is interrupted when you storm onto your own balcony, slamming the glass door shut behind you.

You brace yourself on the railing edge. He watches your shoulders heave with a few heavy breaths then start to shutter. Your head falls weakly into your hands and you begin to cry. Cry hard at that, sobbing that shakes your whole body. You cover your mouth to keep yourself quiet but your pathetic whimpers still slip though. 

For a moment Simon actually feels bad for you. In fact he feels angry, angry at whoever could have made you feel that way. Sure, you could be annoying at times. Okay annoying all the time but he has never heard you say a harsh word about anyone before. He can't fathom what you could have possibly done to deserve such harshness. You are a sweet girl. He considers saying something to comfort you in some way but after another minute of watching you cry meekly into your hands he thinks maybe not. It would be better to let you be alone. His own patio door is still open, perhaps and can slip back inside with you noticing...

Then he drops his lighter. 

Your head turns sharply to the direction of the clattering plastic against the floor. You lock your watery eyes with Simon and he feels an unexpected pang in his heart. You swiftly wipe your eyes and brush your ruffled hair in place the best you can. Even in the dim lighting illuminating from the city below he can still see how flushed your cheeks have become. 

You draw in a shaky inhale before speaking. "How long have you been out here?"

"Not long," He sees your eyes flick down to the half smoked cigarette between his fingers, giving away his lie. "You want one?" He asks, unsure how to comfort you. 

"I don't smoke," then a pause. "Can I just have a bit of yours?" Your voice is so feeble it's almost a whisper. As you look at him with big round eyes and pouty lips, he can't deny your request. 

He passes the half burnt cigarette over the small stone wall separating your balconies. You're shaky fingers brush against his, careful not to drop it. You bring it to your lips to pull a slow drag. Your eyes flutter shut before you release the puff of smoke, carefully not to blow it in his direction. Simon watches the cloud drift out of your mouth, disappearing into the chilled night air. You lean on the wall connecting your balcony to Simon's. You stare down at the glowing red ember emitting a thin plume of smoke. 

"You alright?" It's him this time who breaks the silence.

"Yeah," you mumble, not lifting your gaze. 

"You sure?"

"No," you release a tired sigh. 

He waits a beat before speaking. "You told me you weren't gonna be a noisy neighbor."

A smile begins to creep onto your face. "I'm sorry, I broke my promise. How can I make it up to you?" When you look at him now, he sees a shimmer return back to your eyes. 

You pass the cigarette back over to him. It's basically down to the filter when he brings it to his own lips and takes a final drag, blowing the smoke between the two of you. It disperses around your features while you watch him. He stubs it out in an ashtray on his little patio table. The cool night dries his chapped mouth. He licks his lips and tastes an unfamiliar cherry flavoring. He looks down at the butt in his ashtray and observes the faintest red ring of lipgloss on the smushed filter. 

"You know, I could go for some baked ziti."

━━━━⊱♡⊰━━━━

Part II

[dante-mightdie]

yes this is hurricane porn i haven’t dated in 3 years my coochie got cobwebs in it, i’m a little deranged LEAVE ME BE.

farmer!john loves those cozy rainstorm days. he is a sleep old man, after all.

but one thing price loves about this weather is its ability to keep you grounded. it’s like your body melts into the rain and somber scenery, and you get sleepier and more bound to the couch or bed.

he loves it. he gets to make you a warm dinner, tuck you under his arms while you doze off to movies set on automatic play, and maybe a little later make you come under that maternity sleep dress.

one leg lazily draped over the spacious couch, subconsciously scratching your scalp while you both sleep. you’re on his chest, using his abdomen as a pregnancy pillow, because the day he can’t support your weight is the day pigs fly (u could be carrying triplets it does not matter). all is well and quiet in the farmside manor until 3 or so hours in when you’re a little squirmy.

you are sleeping, genuinely, and it’s one of the things price has always found so cute and charming about you. your little cunt will talk to him before you even open your eyes to realize as much. he can tell it’s needy squirming instead of uncomfortable squirming because (well, he’s set you up with everything you could possibly need) but also because it’s more in your hips and waist than anything else.

watches as you move from moving over to pushing your thighs and cunt into his leg. lets you do it until he can’t help but groan out in that deep sleepy voice of his and drag his fingers up your thighs. he’s cupping and kneading one of your cheeks in one hand and dragging his hand up and down the other when you wake up.

“j.. john?” you ask, sleepily, muffled against his chest.

“hey darlin’.. looks like you need a little something from me, huh?” his hand wipes over you slit and catches at your clit under your panties, feeling the silky substance leak over his fingers.

“mmmh.. mhm.”

“cmon.. roll over, get comfortable mama.” he tells you, assisting you however you need.

his hand moves to kneading your breast while the other stays in its rightful place down your panties, gathering a little slick from the mess you’ve made in them and drawing circles around your clit.

then, the hand from your breast moves to below your bump as he caresses and pulls it upward to remove some pressure off your back and spine, which is arguably more pleasurable then what his fingers are doing to your clit. gets a mixture of a sign and a moan out of you.

“you’re so good to me..” you mewl up at him, clearly already immersed in the pleasure.

“y’ carryin’ my kid.. i better damn be,” he replies, beginning to speed up his fingers, causing you to arch up momentarily before giving into the pressure of your tummy.

(he also loves how pliant pregnancy makes you)

“more,”

“c’mon, play nice. y’know i shouldn’t be going too hard on ya..”

“c’mon daddy, please..” price has been calling you mama since you first told him you were pregnant, but one you started calling him daddy back… you had him wrapped around you finger.

with a huffed chuckle, he switches to circling two fingers around your slit, collecting your slick, before he begins to slowly insert them.

“mmmhh.. thank you…” price doesn’t reply, but instead begins kissing you, dragging you bottom lip into his mouth and grunting into yours.

one of your manicured hands, the ringed one, reachers up and claws into the bicep of the arm that’s pumping his in and out of you. your lips are parted against his in a mostly soundless, strangled moan.

“i know mama, i know,” he coos at you, still supporting your stomach.

price keeps his pace, seeing the way you begin dragging your legs and squirming with as much space you can bear to with your tummy and all, pushing you toward the edge. he does, however, adjust his fingers just enough to hit your gspot)

“yesyesyes please don’t stop.. please don’t stop,” you plead with him, knowing he had no plans to, and feeling the white hot pleasure building in you.

it’s not long before you’re letting out long, quiet moans and cumming on his fingers.

not even 20 seconds after, you’re yawning and rolling back onto his chest.

“took what i gave you and goin right on back to sleep, huh?” ‘nd presses a kiss to your forehead.

and just like that, his plump little pregnant wife is out like a light again. no need to drag her out of the nursery decorating, or the kitchen baking, or her hobby room. she’s all tuckered out, thanks to him and the rain.

- i’m going to name myselfff… ☕️ anon

i’m the one who asked if u did emoji anons btw yeah idk why it took me this long to say something..

also ur anon was off im pretty sure

farmer!john my love <3333

[tteokdoroki]

Denji blushes when you hold his cock hand

☆༉ — DENJI. pretty boy.

about. let’s pretend this ask isn’t years old but yeah actually he does omg :( !! started writing this ages ago but finished for @miguelism mwah <3

warnings. minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact. characters aged up to 20s, smut, nsfw, handjobs, exhibitionism, praise kink, college!au, gn!reader, roommate!denji.

“denji…”

“uhuh— i mean, uh, yeah?”

“has anyone told you, you’ve got such a pretty cock?”

you feel the entirety of denji’s length twitch within your hold— his head full of sunshine blonde hair falling back on the wall you’ve caged him against. your fingers are soft, pillowy around his thick shaft and your thumb presses to his leaky slit curiously, watching his face for a reaction. “y-you’d be the first…ah—fuck!” denji whimpers, golden brown eyes falling away from the world as you give your wrist an experimental flick, testing the waters on what you can do to him. “that’s nice…that’s real nice.”

you giggle, his precum oozing into the seat of your palm the more you start to jerk him off in the right space of aki’s bathroom. “yeah? i want you to feel good, denji.” you doubt that your roommates would want to be woken up by slick sounds and whiny whistle tone moans, so you step forward and reach out into the dark— pressing your lips against your boyfriend’s in a slow, syrupy kiss.

it’s adorable how he chases the warmth of your mouth, like a moth drawn to a candle flame, when you pull away to check the door only briefly. “come back, baby…please,” he pleads while he feverishly fucks your hand as if he’ll never get the chance to do so again. “feels good when you’re close…when you kiss me ‘n you use…shit, y-your t-tongue on me!” pleading turns to soggy, pathetic whimpers that are muffled by your tongue as you push your way back into denji’s mouth to shut him up.

you make denji feel like he’s going fucking insane, desire ripping through is chest, lewd squelching noises from his cock bleeding arousal all over your hand overlaying his soundtrack of moans and tongue lapping over tongues. opaque white slings around your knuckles as it drips from his creamy tip, only serving to guide your fist up and down his throbbing a little easier — as if it were a makeshift flesh light.

he really is so cute like this — pliant and needy underneath you, his body seizing up at your sensual ministrations and his skin shiny with sweat under the moonlight. the chainsaw devil can’t help but hiccup loudly despite how you pacify him with sweet, loving smooches. tears slip down the apples of his cheeks and track salt along your tongue too where they land at the corner of denji’s mouth. “you look so pretty with your cock in my hand,” praise for denji comes easily to you — he deserves to be cherished, to know that he’s good and loved. squeezing the base of his length, you push your thumb through his seedy slit just to see him cry, circling his bright red and mushroomed cockhead in order to lube him up more.

a pink flush blossoms across the expanse of his milky skin with every pump of his dick and his his head falls back against the wall with a dull thud. you lick your lips at the sight of his adam’s apple bobbing and his body shuddering, revealing to the naked eye just how desperate denji truly is.

“do you think you could cum for me, denji?”

the stutter in his hips tells you the answer, but you want a verbal one anyways — so for a moment, you stop palming his dripping wet cock and wait for his response.

“well?”

“please, i can do it,” he pants, eager to please — his honey brown eyes crazed and delirious. “j-just call me pretty again. ‘nd i promise i’ll—“

even with his back pressed right up against the wall and his shoulders quivering in anticipation of his impending high — denji still towers over you. so you stand on your tippy toes, languidly flicking your wrist to get him off, in order to whisper your command into the shell of his ear. “make a mess for me, pretty boy.” you simper, mouth falling open to mock his moans like you’re right on the edge with him.

denji cums with a shout and his release spills into your spoiled palm like a stream of molten igneous rock, painting your knuckles a gooey white. you have to cover his mouth with your remaining hand, muffling any sounds that escape him since his brain quite literally short circuits, reducing the poor blonde to nothing but tears and brainless babbles.

you do your best to keep him quiet while he twitches through the aftershocks — after all, it would be a shame if some else got to see your pretty boy blushing with his cock out.

꒰ end. — all rights reserved © tteokdoroki 2023. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

[thebibliosphere]

Joy I have to ask - what temperature do you think it is inside Wayne Manor?

Is it essentially outside temperature except where the fireplaces are? Does Alfred have a one man war against climate change? Is that why Bruce spends so much time in the basement?

Depending on which timeline you follow, Wayne Manor was built in the late 1800s. Having worked in giant historical homes, I'm telling you now it's a fucking pain in the ass to update the heating systems in those buildings. I know we've got comic book logic to contend with, and they've got massive generators in the basement to keep the cave running (sometimes it's turbines powered by the water flowing through the caves), but I also think it's plausible that to avoid damaging the historical facade of the building, you might walk around the house and see box fans shoved into the window frames during the summer because fuuuuck trying to install modern AC through 18th-century brickwork.

As for heat, well, for a frame of reference, the James J Hill house up here in MN—built roughly around the same time during the Gilded Age when the Waynes were pioneering industry in Gotham—was forced to rely on a boiler roughly the size of a steam engine to heat the house and used 250 tons of coal each year to keep it warm. That boiler provided hot water and ambient heat through steam radiators, but they also still had fireplaces in almost every room to try and compensate for the winter. The house was updated for modern heating and air conditioning within the last 40 years, but with a house that size and ceilings so tall, it's not particularly efficient. They still rely on box fans and space heaters to keep the space habitable during summer and winter.

New Jersey is not as far north as Minnesota, but the temperatures can still drop comparably low, especially when you factor in the seafront Gotham is on. So, while I do think they likely upgraded the heating systems at some point (they can't keep guzzling through coal like that), I also can't help but feel it's got to be cold as hell in that house unless they're being meticulous about lighting fires and airing every room out to prevent damp.

Because that's another thing. If you're not keeping your stone house warm, you risk damp and water damage, and I feel like Alfred would rather gnaw off his own arm than let Wayne Manor crumble to dust with black mold festering in the original French plaster.

So he's not so much fighting a one-man war against climate change as he's fighting a one-man war to keep the house dry. He's walking through rooms no one even uses, making sure the steam radiators are working and opening the windows a crack to let the condensation out.

Is he also turning off all the light switches as he goes? Yes. Is he always yelling, "Why is every screen in this house turned on if no one is using them?" also, yes.

Is Bruce also down in the cave huddled under an extra cape, overclocking the batcomputer to stay warm? Also a distinct possibility.

[v6quewrlds]

❝ sky full of stars, j. burrow. ❞  ‎ ‎ ┉  

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀summary: joe's a big space nerd. you're a big space nerd. it's a match made in space nerd heaven.

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀author's note: literally laid awake last night thinking about this. decided to write it during my lecture. short and sweet but i love writing joe in love. suppressing the urge to cite my sources on this lol. ty to wikipedia's black holes article <3 also don't worry y'all will still get a game day fic on sunday 🙂‍↕️

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀warnings: science talk, general cheesiness.

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀pairing: joe burrow x nasa engineer!reader.

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀word count: 1k.

Your eyes scanned the living room, your gaze lingering on the framed LSU jersey hanging on the wall. A soft chuckle escaped your lips as you thought of Joe's insistence on displaying his pride so prominently in his Cincinnati home. Despite his celebrity status, he remained as down-to-earth as the day the two of you met eight months ago, a quality you cherished deeply.

The gentle hum of the air conditioner filled the quiet room as the documentary's narrator droned on about black holes. Joe's breathing grew even and steady, his head comfortably nestled in your lap. You felt his hand twitch in his half-sleep, his thumb brushing against your thigh through the fabric of your shorts. You gently stroked his hair, a soft smile playing on your lips.

Your thoughts drifted to the upcoming mission you were helping to prepare at the Johnson Space Center. The excitement of possibly making more discoveries on your Mars probe was palpable, and you couldn't wait to get back to Houston. Yet, here you were, feeling more content than ever, with a man you never thought you’d end up with. The rhythmic beat of Joe's heart against your palm was a reminder of the love the two of you had found amidst your two dramatically different lives.

You leaned back, your hand still cradling Joe's head, and refocused on the documentary. The TV screen flickered with images of stars, galaxies, and cosmic phenomena that you knew so well from your work, yet seeing them here, in Joe's home, made them feel so much more profound.

“So, how do black holes, like, eat stars?” Joe’s sleepy voice interrupted the silence. His eyes remained closed, but his mind was clearly still processing the information he had been hearing.

“It’s not so much that they eat stars, but rather they have such intense gravitational pull that nothing can escape them, not even light,” You explained, your voice a soothing murmur. You felt Joe’s head shift slightly, his curiosity piqued.

“So, it’s like a cosmic vacuum cleaner?” He mumbled, a hint of a smile in his voice.

You laughed, the sound echoing lightly in the room. “In a way, yes. But a vacuum cleaner you definitely don’t want to get too close to. Once something enters a black hole, it’s gone forever.”

Joe’s eyes fluttered open, and he looked up at you, the corners of his mouth tugging into a smile. “How can something be that powerful?” His gaze was earnest, the curiosity in his eyes warming your heart.

“It’s all about the mass and gravity. When a star dies and collapses, it can become so dense that its gravity is just too much for anything to resist. Not even light can escape, which is why we call them black holes. They’re like the universe’s trapdoor.” Your voice was soft, your eyes shining with the same enthusiasm that had captured Joe’s attention when you’d first described your job to him.

Joe nodded, his eyes drifting back to the TV screen. His fingers twined with yours, and you felt a gentle squeeze. “And what happens when something does fall in?” His question was genuine, his curiosity a bridge between your worlds.

“Well, we think that anything that gets too close gets stretched out like spaghetti. But before that, it passes the point of no return, gravity gets so intense that it bends time and space itself. It’s like nothing we can truly imagine.” Your words painted a vivid picture in the quiet room, your voice a mix of wonder and knowledge.

“You’re like nothing I could truly imagine. You’re like my own black hole, pulling me in with your brilliance every day.” Joe’s words were a gentle whisper, his blue eyes opening to find yours, a warmth that didn’t quite match the cosmic chaos on the screen.

Your heart fluttered. “You’re not so bad yourself, Mr. Heisman.” You leaned down to kiss his forehead, your smile tender. The room felt smaller, the universe’s mysteries forgotten as the two of your shared a moment of quiet intimacy.

The documentary played on, but your attention had shifted. Joe’s hand found yours again, fingers interlocking. He pulled himself up, dirty blonde hair messy from rest, eyes squinting in the light. “You know I’m going to keep asking questions until I understand everything you do, right?”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way, Joey. You know I love talking about this stuff with you.” Your voice was filled with affection as you reached for the remote and paused the documentary. The room was bathed in the soft glow of the TV, the only light source in the otherwise darkened space.

Joe sat up, his hand still holding yours. He leaned in, your eyes locking for a brief moment before your lips met in a gentle kiss that grew in passion. His arms wrapped around you, pulling you closer as you shifted on the couch to face him. Your kisses grew deeper, a silent declaration of your love and appreciation for one another’s differences and shared moments of wonder.

As you pulled apart, Joe whispered, “You know, I still can’t believe you agreed to go out with me. A guy who throws a football for a living asking out a NASA engineer.” His self-deprecation made you laugh again, the sound music to his ears. “Still not sure why you’re with me.”

“Why not?” you said, your voice filled with warmth. “You’re smarter than you give yourself credit for, Joe. And you’re incredibly good at what you do. Maybe not launching rockets, but you have your own kind of rocket science going on out there on the field.”

Joe chuckled, the sound rumbling through his chest and into yours. “You always know what to say to boost my ego.”

“I’ll say whatever it takes to get me ahead of Ja’Marr in your heart,” you teased with a laugh, leaning forward to steal another kiss from his pink lips. The warmth of his breath tickled your skin, sending a shiver down your spine.

Joe’s arms tightened around you, his eyes lighting up with mischief. “I don’t know, he’s pretty good at catching my throws.”

“Well, I’m pretty good at catching your heart, so I think we’re even,” you quipped back, your eyes sparkling with love and amusement.

Joe’s chuckle grew louder, the sound rumbling through the room like thunder. He leaned back, pulling you with him until you were lying on top of him, your legs draped over his. “You definitely win that title, babe. No contest.”

Your smile never left your face as you looked down at him. His strong arms wrapped around your waist, holding you in place. You felt his heartbeat beneath you, a steady drum that matched the rhythm of your own. The air between the two of you was electric, the kind of charge that could spark a star into existence.

[specialagentartemis]

What queer Asian sci fi authors would you recommend?

Yeah, to put my money where my mouth is, here are some queer SFF writers from Asia and the Asian Diaspora in the Anglosphere that I really like and highly recommend:

Nghi Vo: probably doesn’t need an endorsement from me, hah, her The Empress of Salt and Fortune is one of the most perfect novellas I’ve ever read and well deserved its Hugo win. The whole Singing Hills cycle is great. It’s a fantasy world strongly inspired by Imperial China and Vietnam, and does clever things with fantasy, folklore, storytelling, and memory. Her novels are standalone historical fantasy set in 1920s-America-with-magic and are very much about Asian immigrant/diaspora experiences in the early 20th century US. With Magic.

Yoon Ha Lee: I love his Machineries of Empire. Would love to finish that trilogy someday. But seriously it’s creative, intense military sci-fi in a magic-science space empire and is very interested in what it takes to uphold such a system.

Simon Jimenez: The Vanished Birds is sooo heartbreakingly good and I need to read A Spear Cuts Through Water soon.

Isabel J. Kim: Short story writer. Runs the gamut of sci-fi, fantasy, horror, and the weird stuff in between. Creative and vivid in really compelling ways. Her first novel is in the works and I am SUPER interested. She does funky and creative things with perspective and structure in her stories. Has several stories now that are about turning popular tropes or other iconic stories around like they’re in a kaleidoscope, but her first published story “Homecoming Is Just Another Word for the Sublimation of the Self” is probably still the most affecting to me.

Michelle Kan: Has a trilogy of novelettes called Tales of the Thread, self-described as “aromantic Chinese fairytales” that take a deliberately aro approach to fairytale retellings and fairytale style fantasy. I recommend them. (Also has a superhero novel I haven’t read.)

———

Haven’t read yet but they are on my TBR:

Aliette de Bodard: Her Xuya universe novellas, and the relationships between humans and AIs and spaceships, sound super up my alley.

Kai Cheng Thom: Author of Fierce Femmes and Notorious Liars: A Dangerous Trans Girl’s Confabulous Memoir is a less traditionally sff entry but is a fabulist/surrealist take on the Trans Memoir… which I feel like I have to be in the right space for, but I do want to read it.

———

Also he’s not out as queer or anything but I can’t not recommend Ted Chiang because he writes some of the best short stories In The World and has THE most interesting and unique and compelling ideas.

———

There are also so many more authors out there I don’t know and haven’t read! But! Someday!!