#trot of chuck

[drchucktingle]

i have copied this comment without name because i think it is very kind and respectful and i do not want buckaroos interpreting it the wrong way. PLEASE UNDERSTAND this buckaroo is very sincere and has important points and please respect their way. i am going to answer in a way that is counter to their point and i do not want buds to go after them IN ANY WAY. THEY ARE PROVING LOVE AND THEY HAVE GOOD POINTS

okay here is what i have to say:

i have not transitioned and in this lifetime i do not expect to. i think you have a good point of 'how can you know?' and honestly i cannot know that is just how timelines and reality and perception work

HOWEVER i must caution against this train of thought slightly because what works for one buckaroos MAY NOT WORK for another. every time i talk about my non-dysphoric way there are plenty of well meaning buds, particularly fellow trans buds, who show up with posts in the tone of 'its only matter of time.' like i just do not understand yet.

this reminds me of bisexual buckaroos who are told 'you just do not know you are gay yet'. as difficult as it is to step out of our own dang minds, i implore buckaroos to accept that there VERY JOYFUL AND FULFILLED NON-DYSPHORIC TRANS BUCKAROOS who do not need to transition and never will and are healthy and happy without that. just like there are bisexual buckaroos who are not just on their way to being gay

a good way to look at it is like this: I LOVE MY MALE BODY. i think i am a very handsome buckaroo. i have masculine features in my muscle and height and frame. as far as how fate could have placed me on this timeline I WON MY OWN PERSONAL FOOTRACE. i am up on the podium and i am standing here with a medal around my neck. GOOD JOB CHUCK

HOWEVER when i look down i see that medal is silver. i am not going to lie and say it is gold. it is silver.

YES my gold medal is a female body. that is an objective truth to my trot. i believe my gender way is that of a women, but there is no part of me that is upset about where i have placed.

I GOT SILVER. i am not upset. there is no tragedy. in fact i am OVERWHLEMED WITH JOY not just to be on the podium but to be in this race in the first place. HECK YEAH I DID IT AND I GOT A MEDAL

of course this is not to dismiss the difficult journey of others. many do not feel the way i do and their trot is VALID. a dysphoric way matters and is important and these voices are important. they should be elevated and supported. i understand some do not share this podium imagery, and they feel PAINED by trappings of their body.

i feel so much for this. i understand and care for my dysphoric buds, but the simple truth is that is not my story. i cant just lie and say that it is.

it will never be my story. i cannot say this enough: i love my body. however i STILL believe my truest way is that of a ladybuck. if it was a simple button push to change me, then i would push it without hesitation.

but it is not a simple button push.

talk to almost any buckaroo who has transitioned and they will say 'transitioning is hard'. it takes time and work and money and emotional support. i am in awe of the bravery of buckaroos who trot this path, but all of that is not worth it for something that i already feel good about. SCRATCH THAT, i feel GREAT ABOUT. i feel overwhelmed with joy every day over just existing in this male body that i have been blessed with. YES buckaroo, i feel joy existing in a male body that i know is ladybuck on the inside. it feels interesting a cool and exciting.

but my truest way is STILL a ladybuck trot

i guess i am just trying to say that i love second place. im happy to celebrate it. i think my male body is really dang cool. it is not a 'perfect me' but it is really dang awesome, and i never really bothered with trying to be perfect

[torpublishinggroup]

Bestselling author @drchucktingle is back with more horror in Bury Your Gays.

WHAT’S IT ABOUT

Hollywood screenwriter Misha—no, not that Misha—is on the verge of undreamed of success. 

But first he must satisfy the suits—and their soulless algorithm—by killing off the gay characters in the season finale of his hit streaming series.

Misha’s refusal to do so sets him and his friends on a deadly course as forces both corporate and incorporeal stalk them through the hills above Los Angeles.

Some things refuse to stay buried.

[amanonthecorner]

This one goes out to all the buckaroos whose trot has been SIGNIFICANTLY IMPROVED by the art of @drchucktingle

[stargatebarbie]

hello tungle dot net i have drunk spirits tonight for the first time in I think 2 maybe 3 years and I would like to say to you all that I love you dearly and genuinely. if we have spoken at all even in passing a guarantee that I think of you often and in high regard. if I have ever like, not responded to you or tumblr equiv of left you on read it is absolutely because I am extremely anxious as a person and also autistic as all get out and do not know how to interact with people in a socially acceptable manner. You are all beautiful incredible people and I would talk to you more if only I knew how. goodnight, and from the bottom of my heart, I love you guys

[injuredarcher]

Working on more sticker designs. Read the whole book last night, and absolutely had to draw something for it.

[indycinders]

I just finished reading Camp Damascus.

Amazing.

Beautiful.

Horrifying.

@drchucktingle share some of your word wizardry for visceral and detailed descriptions with me, I beg.

Anyone who hasn’t read it, GO READ IT NOW DAMN IT.

So excited for Bury Your Gays now.

[armandlovesgirlcock]

Today I cried a lot reading Camp Damascus for the first time. It is so GOOD and healing and beautiful!!!

I personally do not have a lot of Christian Trauma, but I’ve recently cut off a lot of family members and @drchucktingle writes so beautifully about the ache of losing your parents, even when it’s the best possible thing for you to do. 

I’ve always been of the opinion that Horror as a genre can speak to all parts of the human experience and this book is a testament to that - you walk away believing in love and friendship and killing the things that torment you with a sword of truth and justice (and also a flamethrower). 

10/10 i will not stop thinking about this book for a LONG time

[libraryofbaxobab]

😭 thanks king

[deehellcat]

looking forward to seeing man named Chuck in person tomorrow!

Bury Your Gays by Chuck Tingle is fantastic. I loved the way it was written and all the references to different pop culture, but the ending was my favourite part by far. I won't spoil anything, but it felt empowering and inspiring. My favourite thing about Chuck Tingle is that you can tell he puts so much love and care into what he writes, and I really felt that with this book. As an aroace, I am so happy that I have Tara as representation because she's amazing

[power-handmaiden]

Chuck Tingle interview

OK, here is the FINAL 2024 Tingles My Butt post, which I've been pretty hyped for. I still kind of can't believe this. While I was figuring out how I'd move on from 2024, @drchucktingle generously offered to answer some questions of mine to commemorate the end of my tingler project! Here they are!

-Considering that your process for tinglers is just to write it out and not stress about proofreading and editing, was it weird for you to see someone decide to go back, examine, and contemplate every single tingler published in the past decade?

the whole dang project was really wonderful for me, for exactly the reason you have just said. tinglers are very STREAM OF CONSCIOUS and only edited with one quick pass so while i think this adds to their honesty and rawness it also means that my time with them is limited. really watching someone go back through them at this depth was like reading a diary that i have not opened for many years, and it jumps around through time in a very beautiful way. it was very moving

-I love tingler character names. I personally admire how many great ones you come up with. (I never know what to name my ttrpg characters.) You just come up with all these great names that seemingly spring from nowhere, how do you do it?

DANG great question cant believe i have not been asked this before but yes there is a type of name that shows up in the tingleverse that is unusual and has a certain feeling and cadence that is very specific. if i am trotting along with sweet barbara and there is a name of a product or a place or something that has this tone we will say ‘oh thats a tingleverse name.’ the reason i wanted to do this in the books was as a very subtle way of saying these stories exist on a timeline that is RIGHT next to ours, so in some ways it is exactly the same as our world but there are these little cultural differences with things like chocolate milk and spaghetti and then with the names. you will have buckaroos like justin and sarah trotting along next to buckaroos named corb torbins-quill or borto lart.

-So, as a reader, reading from 2014 to now, old tinglers and new tinglers feel different to me. I believe you when you say tinglers have always been sincere, but they feel MORE sincere than they used to be. Like, I feel like there was some self-consciousness and irony in some of the early tinglers that you've since let go of and embraced the Chuck Tingle voice more. I don't know, am I imagining this, or does this square with your tingler writing journey? If it does, what has that process been like for you?

i think you are absolutely correct. the intention with tinglers was always to be a place for me to express myself with complete sincerity, but the practical way of HOW to trot like this took a bit of an evolution to arrive at. in other words i knew the basics, but actually refining the best way to express yourself and perform your art takes time. maybe in the same way goin back and watching season one of a tv show can feel very different from season three, even though they are part of the same expression. 

similar thing happened with in my chuck PRESENTATION as well, where my main focus was to stay anonymous so the metaphors i used to talk about my life were still true but laid on much thicker. even my attire was a large gi so that you would not even be able to see my shape, which has obviously changed now because i wear suits these days. all of this was a process of starting in a place i knew was important to me and then peeling off the parts that were not helping the message or expression over time

-Is there anything you could tell us about the significance of Borson Reems? I feel like he's more than just another Buck Trungle/Chuck Tangle/etc but I'm not sure what exactly...

yes borson reems is god. not that i believe in GOD in the way that most buckaroos talk about god (i am agnostic) but within the tingleverse, borson reems is an avatar for the creator of that world. technically i am borson reems, because i am writing the books. the question is: are we all the gods of our own little worlds that we create? i do not know, but when i look around at my buds and the joy and love they bring to various timelines they sure seem like gods to me

-A lot of no-sex tinglers (especially ones that aren't romance-focused) vary in terms of plot and structure a lot more than erotic tinglers. Is your writing process for these stories any different?

same process actually, but the sex scenes in tinglers are about 1500 to 2000 words long, and total tingler length is 4000 words which means if you are not including that portion you are going to have to come up with some creative way to fill that space in the story and a new axis for story to turn on. so the variety comes from me getting creative and trying out different axis points

-In "Not Pounded By My Book "Pounded In The Butt By My Non-Fungible Tingler That Is Literally This NFT" Because Of The Current Catastrophic Environmental And Ethical Impact" there are references to an earlier draft of the story that was never released because you ended up disagreeing with the message. Are there any other tinglers that never got finished and/or published, if you'd be willing to talk about any of them?

oh this is a VERY good question. the story of the NFT tingler is that when buckaroos were first talkin on nfts online and nobody really knew what they were, my first thoughts were just ‘oh this is interesting what the heck is this?’ this is my way with most CURRENT EVENTS. and i thought ‘this would be an interesting tingler, i suppose maybe i should make the tingler an ACTUAL nft’. this was in VERY early days so i did not really even understand what an nft was (neither did 99 percent of buckaroos yet honestly). so i looked into it just enough to actually MAKE a nft tingler that was a real nft and put it out. lasted for about thirty seconds before buckaroos were messaging saying ‘oh this is bad chuck you should look into what this is’ and i DID look into it and thought’ oh yeah this is terrible nevermind’. i took down the original and thought ‘well THIS is what art is all about. this is where i thrive in a world of moving living art that is in communication with itself’. so i dove into the research and actually started to understand NFTS and then i repurposed the story into a strongly anti-nft tingler and put that on out instead.

as far as OTHER tinglers that kind of move and breathe and live like this, in communication with the audience, GAY T-REX LAW FIRM is another very good example. that one i wrote early on and i think it was kind of in the model of something like fifty shade of grey, where issues of kink and consent and communication are not really handled well. i think at the time it came out the story was okay, but as time went on it always kind of bothered me and finally i thought ‘i love art that exists in the REAL WORLD and changes and evolves, so lets rewrite that story and fix some of these mistakes.’ honestly it is something i wish more artists would be open to. its okay to let something hold strong against a changing timeline, but it is also okay to explore what its like to take the notes that time gives us

-This one is about Chuck Tingle that exists in deeper layers of the Tingleverse that operate on tingler logic: what does the location inside his/your butt look like?

probably a nice mid-century modern home up in laurel canyon neighborhood of los angeles. kind of quiet and small like a cabin but also very cozy, like the kind of place where you would put on a crosby stills nash and young record on vinyl and gaze out into the woods for a while then walk down the hill for dinner at a little cafe where you spot some actor from a 60s tv show also having dinner in the corner booth. this basically sounds like the start of a tingler and in that tingler i will say the actor would be a bigfoot.

-OK this one is very self-indulgent but if you could help settle this frequent point of discussion I have with my wife- where do the following fit in the Tingleverse bigfoot/dinosaur/unicorn/living object(/human/does not apply?) taxonomy?

-a ghost of a regular human

-a regular human vampire

-a human/fish mermaid

-a sentient winged horse

-a sentient centipede large enough to wrap around a mountain several times (she is handsome)

alright lets trot through these. a GHOST is not one of the four tingle types so you can have a ghost racecar or a ghost unicorn or a ghost bigfoot. ghosts are outside of the four types and do not have a classification

a VAMPIRE is also outside of the four types. so you can have a vampire bigfoot or, of course, a vampire night bus. does not strictly fall into any of the four main categories

MERMAIDS are technically a long lost species of unicorn I DONT MAKE THE RULES I JUST EXPLAIN THEM. this makes the MERMOPED tingler a little confusing but i had to pick a category and that one went into living object. now that i mention it possibly the only tingler that is technically a double category of unicorn/living object.

WINGED HORSE is easy, thats a pegasus which is a species of unicorn just like a mermaid

a SENTIENT CENTIPEDE LARGE ENOUGH TO WRAP AROUND A MOUNTAIN is an ancient creature, therefore dinosaur tingler

-My other self-indulgent question: do you have a favorite bug? (Or second-favorite if you count Mothman as a bug)

i love finding spiders in the house and giving them a pet because they are doing a good job livin their lives doin their thing. close second would be a pretty ladybug

-Any thoughts on what tinglers will be like in 2025? Do you expect to be writing a lot of political tinglers again, like post-2016?

honestly i really do not like writing specifically political tinglers anymore, and the amount that i write has gradually dropped over time (i think ALL tinglers are political but in a different way). so honestly i think i will write a few political tinglers but not many. my hypothesis on this is that my HORROR NOVELS are very very political and so maybe i get a lot of these ideas out of my system that way now. when it comes to tinglers i just wanna explore my OWN mind and heart and butt more

THANK YOU for these wonderful questions and thank you for your tingler-a-day project it was so moving and powerful. what a treat it was an honor to be a part of something so beautiful. THIS PROVES LOVE IS REAL

[drchucktingle]

Across the wide world of the Tingleverse, one thing is clear: love is real 

But, for many buckaroos, their preferred kind of love has nothing to do with sex or romance. Whether asexual or just not feeling it at the moment, this collection of completely sexless tales is perfect for the desires of any readers who are looking for a non-sexual trip through the alternate timelines of Dr. Chuck Tingle.

----

NOT POUNDED BY ANYTHING VOL. 4 is out today as a paperback trot. six more platonic tales for your collection of no sex tinglers. LOVE IS REAL

GET PAPERBACK HERE

[torpublishinggroup]

so true—tinglers are high art! chuck's work posits a bold and compassionate humanism when the echoes of the lonesome train sometimes reverberate louder than the call of the world around us. we're fans, and we love how chuck brings this same boldness to his horror!

This advertisement is for a new horror novel called Camp Damascus, from two time Hugo Award finalist Chuck Tingle. 

WHAT IT’S ABOUT

Rose is a teen growing up in the God-fearing town of Neverton, Montana. Whenever she has an impure thought she pukes flies. 

Camp Damascus is the self-styled most effective conversion camp in the US of A.

Nestled high up in the mountains above Neverton, a life free from sin awaits. 

[nodoubtily]

warnings : drug intake (weed), smut (dry humping), action of infidelity, dirty talk, possessiveness. Lmk if I missed anything!

in NO way does this reflect on how Niki really is. This is not real. : @jyikeu @goldenretrieverjakezgirlbaby

Your eyes continue to read the same message, mind clouded with what you want, heart pumping through your chest.

got some more lollies

You know exactly what Niki means. You also know exactly what he’s got.

But should you really do this? You look behind you, to the peaceful sleeping body that is of your boyfriend. You promised him you’d stop this, and you promised you’d never associate with Niki again.

But it’s too tempting.

So you respond.

pick me up??

You gently remove your boyfriend’s arm from your waist, placing it over a pillow that you stealthily moved instead.

You throw on the closest jacket, which so happens to be one of Niki’s that only he knows you have. You shove your Jordans on, your phone in your hand as you sneakily slide through the gap between the door and threshold. You close the door behind you.

You tiptoe down the stairs, heading to the front door. Thankfully your parents aren’t home, so you don’t worry about being too loud, as your boyfriend is a heavy sleeper.

Locking the front door, the cool night air brings chills to your skin, so you make to wrap the jacket around you more cozily.

It isn’t long till Niki’s car pulls up to your driveway, and you quickly head to it. He opens the door for you from the drivers seat, Luther by Kendrick Lamar oozing out of the car. You climb in and you don’t shut the door until Niki drives a few houses down, where you properly shut the car door.

You roll your window down, your arm waving out into the night. You hear a package, and you turn to see Niki chucking a baggie to your lap. You don’t think nothing of it, and leave it where it landed.

Niki’s hand grabs your thigh, holding onto it, which you also think nothing of. You can’t bring yourself to feel bad, even though you should. You might be a shit person, and you know you don’t deserve your boyfriend.

The silence is comforting, Niki’s music playing through the car’s speaker as he drives to the public playground in the heart of the town.

The public playground was where you both tried drugs together, having bought a small bag of weed and a small bag of cocaine from a well known woman who deals to whoever whenever. You were both 13, and it was one of the best nights of your life.

And you continued to do drugs, up to now, where you’re now 18, somehow still graduating even after shit attendance and lacking grades that barely scraped a pass.

You didn’t even realise you were at the park, until the windows roll up and the car is turned off.

“I think the others are here too, but they have their own shit so we don’t need to share.” Niki’s voice always soothed whatever nerves you got before doing anything related to substances.

“Okay.” You say softly, before getting out of the car. You wait for Niki, who locks the car. His arm wraps around your shoulder, and you make no move to move it as you both trot to where the rest of your druggie friends are.

“Y/N!” Your best friend, Ash, gets up, flinging her arms around you, extremely hyper. You wrap your arms around her waist, and you both rock in place.

The rest all make there greetings, and you both take your seats on the slide, where you both normally sit. Niki sits down first, and you move to lay against him m, your back pressed to his front. Niki hands you the bag of weed once more, and Ashley chucks her glassy, you barely catching it. Niki is handed a nearly empty plastic water bottle, and he pours it in as you sit up, grinder in hand.

You, with shaking hands, gently tap the whole contents into the tub, twisting the cap on, and you press the button as it grinds the plant into smaller bits and pieces.

Niki also sits up, his chin resting on your shoulder as he watches you put everything together. Soon enough, the bong is ready.

“I’ll light it for you.” Niki whispers, his Spider-Man lighter in his hand. You place the bong to your mouth, your lips inside the circle, thumb pressed on the hole. He flicks the lighter on, moving his wrist in a circular motion.

You breathe in slowly, and at the right time, you take your thumb away from the hole, and you successfully sink it. Pulling the glassy away, you slowly exhale the rest of the smoke you can’t breathe in.

“Good girl.” Niki whispers, tapping your inner thighs comfortingly.

“Your turn.” You shift yourself, so you’re facing Niki instead. He grabs your hips, pulling you onto his lap, your clothed clit pressed against his crotch.

You trade, taking his lighter, and he takes the glassy. You sprinkle more weed on top, and your eyes meet Niki’s. He nods, bringing the bong to his mouth, reflecting the same thing you did, and you flick the lighter on, following with the circular motion.

Niki does it way better, his lungs being stronger, and he inhales more of the fumes as the bong is pulled away. He zeroes the inhale, and when he breathes out, no smoke exits his mouth.

You both go back and forth, the air around you both becoming more tense as the weed infiltrates your brain, bringing the familiar buzz you could never get over. Not even from a promise.

“Wanna try something?” His voice is even lower when he speaks, and you nod almost immediately. Niki quickly prepares for another cone, and he sinks it, and when he’s about to exhale, his hand grabs your bale, bringing your head close to his, where he angles the smoke into your mouth. You inhale what he gives, your lips almost touching.

“Let’s do it again.” You take your third cone, skilfully sinking that as well. He brings his head close to yours, but you place the bong between you both, and your hands grab his face, bringing his lips to yours. You exhale into the kiss, smoke everywhere as your lips dance along each others. You swear you hear cheers around you, but you don’t really care, occupied with the thick swollen lips of Niki.

He pulls away, panting. “Car. Now.”

The glassy and the weed remain on the drivers seat, as well as your phones and the jacket. You’re sat on Niki’s lap in the backseat, messily grinding against his growing hard-on, needy whines flooding the small space.

You feel as though on cloud nine; high as a kite, making out with the one boy you’re truly in love, his cock throbbing against your wetness.

“Your boyfriend doesn’t like me, does he?” Niki pants, hands guiding your hips along his lap.

“No..” your voice is shaky, eyebrows furrowed.

“Hates that his girlfriend loves me more, hm?”

“Love you so much, Niki…” your voice is needy when you speak. Your hands grab his shoulders for dear life as your hips quicken, thanks to Niki.

“I know you do, baby. I love you so much too.” His hips thrust up into you, and your eyes shut in pleasurable ecstasy as your only dragged closer to your orgasm. “Want you to be mine so badly.”

Niki’s words always get you going, and truth be told, you have no idea why you aren’t together.

What you do know is that you’re going to wake up exactly how you are now; pussy sticky, relaxed against Niki.

You should stop. Stop cheating, stop partaking in drugs, this case weed, and stop talking to Niki.

But you can’t, because he’s the one thing you’re more addicted to then the drugs he gives you.

[quietplace26]

Furina!MC au: Two Dragons, One Grumpy Mama to be.

Notes: This is an alternative take where Focalors doesn't appear to force Furina!MC to return to Fontaine. So she's still living with Neuvillette in his den.

Warnings: OCness of the characters. Cringe worthy content.

The Hydro Archon was missing.

That news alone was quick to spread to other nations, and of course that would catch the other Archon's attention.

It was known in their circle that the first Hydro Archon died during the Cataclysm, but no one has had a chance to meet her successor yet.

And only barely even 100 of years later that successor goes missing?

That... was concerning.

It was decided that as an act of kindness and respect to Elegria, and as he was the only free to do so, Rex Lapis agrees to travel to Fontaine to help locate the missing Goddess.

He scours the land of Justice with keen eyes and senses, eventually tracking down a rather divine scent.

A scent of divinity and Hydro. That was definitely the missing Hydro Archon's scent. He was on the right track.

Even though he hated it, Rex Lapis dove into the water, tracking the Hydro signature through a series of underwater caves before breaching into a large den.

And right in the center laid a nest where someone laid in it, sleeping like a baby.

It was the missing Hydro Archon. She was thankfully unharmed... and very clearly comfortable.

That alone confuses the Geo Archon.

Why was she... so unguarded? Hadn't she been kidnapped?

He silently moves closer studying the sleeping Goddess's face... Huh... She was a rather pretty little thing... Maybe he could-

Wait. What was that scent? It... The Hydro Archon was practically saturated in an unknown dragon's scent!

Well, not unknown, but it strangely smells familiar but he couldn't put his finger on it...

And not only that, but there was also another scent underneath the dragon's and the female's natural sweet scent. A scent he only smelled on pregnant women...

Now that he was closer, he could see the faint outline of a bump hidden underneath the female's dress.

Brow furrowing, Rex Lapis slowly reaches out to wake the Goddess so he could question her and hopefully understand more, only-

"Get your filthy hands off my mate, usurper."

A grumpy and tired Furina!MC ends up waking up to the sound of loud snarls and to sensation of the Hydro and Geo elements flaring up are around her.

A snarling Neuvillette was wrestling an equally snarling unknown man on the floor of their den.

Squinting her still sleepy eyes at the new male, it takes a second for her tired brain to realize who he was.

Different than how she recalled him from the video game, she knew this was definitely Zhongli- er, well, Rex Lapis? That would be his name currently, right?

Actually... Why was he here?!

Neuvillette practically yeets the Geo Archon to the other side of the den then, making Furina!MC wince at the crashing noises that followed, and a headache quickly starts to build up.

Huffing softly, she sits up in the nest, gently placing a hand on her currently small baby bump and clears her throat.

Both men freeze. Neuvillette had Rex Lapis in a chokehold and Rex Lapis biting down on the Sovereign's arm. Both stared wide eyed at the grumpy looking woman who was pouting in annoyance.

Furina!MC is once again graced with the sight of Neuvillette chucking Rex Lapis like he was a pebble. Not even looking back to see the Geo Archon landing back in the water, sputtering out water and looking like a soggy, wet cat.

The Hydro Dragon quickly has Furina!MC in his arms and he furiously begins to scent her, rubbing his cheek against hers and grumbling moodily about usurper touching what wasn't his.

And when a sopping Rex Lapis trots over as well, eyes glaring at Neuvillette but shifting to interest when he catches Furina!MC's gaze.

Neuvillette just bristles, growling ferally and wraps his tail protectively around Furina!MC's waist.

Furina!MC just wants to sleep.

"You two."

Furina!MC's voice was short, moody, causing both males to stand at attention. This was the voice of a woman who was done with men's bullshit.

"I'm going back to sleep. So, you-" She points to Rex Lapis. "And you-" She points to Neuvillette. "Play nice. Understood?"

Pregnancy hormones, as Furina!MC learned, made her more easily... stirred. Meaning she'll either want to cry at the sight of a cute otter, get snippy over the fact she wanted certain food or more sleep, or flat out want to be ravished.

Currently it is the second one. She. Was. Grumpy.

So, Furina!MC huffs, before turning and cuddling into Neuvillette's chest, quickly going back to sleep, and leaving the two males in an awkward silence.

...Only to be broken by an amused and fascinated Rex Lapis.

"Quite the charming little mate you have there... Hydro Sovereign."

Neuvillette gives him a sour look in which the Geo Archon only returns with an innocent smile.

[amiracleilluminated]

“The Hunger Games opening ceremonies have begun without us. As the anthem ends, we screech to a halt and the van doors fly open, revealing the inside of a cavernous stable, its high roof supported by concrete pillars. Handlers are trying to wrangle forty-eight costumed tributes into twelve chariots while harnessing the horses meant to pull us through the streets. Everybody’s shouting, and nobody’s listening.” “For the first hundred yards or so, the nags get their act together and trot along in time to the music. I look up at one of the giant screens above the packed stands lining the avenue and see myself in my crappy costume, hunched over the railing. Long shot, I think, and force myself to stand up straighter.” “The crowd looks drunk to a person, hooting and hollering, red-faced and sweating. People chuck bottles and trash at us. Some puke over the barricade set up along the parade route. For all their finery, the audience smells like the gang at the Hob on a rough Saturday night, a mix of perspiration, raw liquor, and vomit.”

[cyberllfe]

I got 1300 words! (Which you can absolutely shorten if you don’t feel like writing that much, absolutely understand as a writer.) and I would adore a “Shag me” prompt with Connor 🥴 if you feel up for it. My thoughts on this request (and you can adjust and add to because you’re a great story writer and I trust you) would be a female reader who works as a receptionist at the station (human preferably) and has known Connor since he first came to the department. Soon after his deviancy, they navigate a sort of awkward almost-friends-nearly-more type of relationship and stumble unto a slow romance, until Connor discovers the human emotion horny. It would be amazing if it could be at an awkward time too, like while watching a movie together or at work. I’ve been reading your pieces on AO3 and I truly think you are a talented writer, sending you all my love and inspiration💞💞💞💞

thanks for waiting, anon. connor will see you now. (ao3 link) 1300 words, rated E.

want a turn? prompt me.

It’s been raining all day—classic Detroit November—but all anyone can talk about is the guy who died, his escaped android, and the android investigator in the precinct. You’ve caught a glimpse of him more than once since yesterday, and this time is no different: he comes trotting in after Lieutenant Anderson, covered in glistening droplets of rain and speaking very insistently about something you can’t hear.

“That’s him.”

Your eyes would have slid right past him if not for the intensity in his face. He’s single-minded, emphatic... for all the good it does him. Anderson rolls his eyes and pushes Connor out of his path, leaving him standing there, recalculating. Only then do you notice the LED.

It’s barely two seconds before he’s started after Anderson, calling his name.

“Looks good wet, doesn’t he?”

You don’t offer anything but a soft hum. The thought follows you for the rest of the day.

*

Connor precedes Hank into the building today. He surprises you by speaking to you instead of simply scanning in, and you feel… strange. The look in his eye is so human, almost anxious. With an awkward smile, you offer a reassuring platitude. You’re earnest, but the offer seems to confuse Connor. He thanks you anyway and leaves your desk.

Between jobs, you keep an eye on him. He’s so animated. It’s marked, the difference a handful of days makes—he paces back and forth, oscillating where Hank is static, following his trail of thought as if it were physical.

Neither notices you. The rude FBI agent doesn’t notice you either; too intent on getting into the Captain’s office, he chucks his ID at you with a cursory here you go, sweetheart and goes back to his phone.

The ID is fine. You let the jackass through, and hope he gets shouted down by Fowler, who could probably do with a good outlet for his repressed frustration.

You laugh, later, as two uniforms perform a dramatised version of Anderson’s right hook on Perkins, but it’s brittle. Your eyes are on the news, and the demonstration in the street, and the news anchor’s silent mouth framing the words what do they want? without listening to the answer. Connor had raced out of the station earlier, and caught your eye as he went. You hope he's okay, wherever he is.

*

“Excuse me.”

Brown eyes meet yours, familiar intensity tempered with... caution? Nerves? It’s hard to tell them apart on a face that was built to display but not feel.

Connor wears plain clothes with all the ease of a soldier. There’s no tie to straighten, so he clenches and unclenches his hand and lets his eyes wander. They find you smiling, tentative but warm behind your professional attitude.

“How can I help, Connor?”

He’s clearly unused to the question. It’s endearing, really, to watch him like this—the self-possessed turned self conscious, attempting to hide in the shadow projected by his own image, broadcast endlessly on the new cycles at Markus’ left hand.

“Is Lieutenant Anderson here?”

“No. I don’t think he will be, either. He left about an hour ago.”

When Connor sighs, you wonder if he picked that up to blend in with humans or to help him communicate better with them. Both, probably. His fist coils up again, but he gives you a slight smile as he turns to leave.

“Connor.”

He turns, mildly surprised, to face you when you call his name. His smile is late but warm.

With one hand you reach for his, and with the other you slide a business card into his palm. The touch seems to surprise him further, and he stares at your hand even as you withdraw it.

“If you’re looking for Hank, he’s here. Diner out on the edge of town. I thought you’d come by looking for him.”

You’re glad to notice that he doesn’t look as guarded as before. Connor’s not around every day, not anymore, but you see him often enough to watch him relax into himself—to laugh when you make a self-deprecating joke, or hold the door for Officer Miller’s excitable son. Instead, Connor seems thoughtful, like you handed him something heavier than a wedge of paper with a cartoon burger on it.

“Thanks. I appreciate it.”

To your surprise, he lingers. Spends enough time to ask you about your family, about the plant you keep on your desk, which you should water, by the way. You talk quietly with him about almost-dead houseplants, why you’re not allowed to play Monopoly at home over the holidays, and show him the family dog. All the while he’s leaning against the counter, one arm crooked atop it and grinning… you’re more than distracted. He leaves the foyer, eventually, but not your thoughts.

*

Laughter covers cheesy Christmas music. You’re wearing half your wine glass in the colour of your cheeks, but Connor thinks the flush becomes you.

You notice when he glances at you, and you smile in that shy, self-conscious way. He returns your smile, adjusting his posture to face you, and you turn away, pretending that you barely noticed, and noticeably trying not to check back. He basks in private amusement.

The party draws on a little long—someone pulls out a bottle of something strong and definitely against regulation, and when Connor leans down to ask you if you’d like another drink, you jump.

You’re never in danger of falling, of course. Inhuman arms encircle you and hold you steady against an equally inhuman body—and for the first time, Connor feels a response that correlates with your change in expression. The slow pull that binds you and builds to something far stronger than he’s felt before until letting you go is unthinkable.

He makes a plausible excuse for you to leave. The charge in the air grows to fevered sharpness, a harmonic buzz that doesn’t break until he has one hand in your hair, the other encircling your waist, and that insatiable need to get closer.

Connor doesn’t leave any of you untouched. When his kisses would deny you air, he leaves them in trails down your neck, then undoes a handful of buttons to continue down your chest, hands restless and hungry, so much warmer than you’d ever imagined, so much more demanding.

When he whispers I don’t want to wait, it’s as if he read your mind. A shiver runs through you when he parts your legs and leans his weight into you, pushing inside with a growl that thrills you.

You tense around him. It’s not intentional, but he grabs your chin and holds you still beneath him, feeling the burning heat of your shaky breath past his thumb. He caresses your lower lip, and when you realise you can’t nod, you whisper please, and reach for him with both hands, in case he doesn’t understand how much you want him.

Connor leans back and pulls out almost all the way. You whine loud, desperate and frustrated, until the hand on your face tightens, cutting off your mumbled demand and making way for the moan he fucks out of you.

His fingers claw your jaw and throat and it’s heaven: the sharpness against your skin, the deep pressure inside you, building with every rock of his hips, chased with a mouth that suffocates and teases you until you’re dizzy.

You feel heavy, waves of sensation breaking over your body with increasing frequency and intensity, and no outlet except your nails in Connor’s back, scratching until he presses in deep again. You tense, on purpose, and half-feel, half-hear the stuttering moan, then the frenzied motion of his body as he pushes himself to the brink and drags you with him, tangled and messy, sharing breaths, but sated at last.