I apologize in advance for all the bullshitted racing parlance and half-assed research into horses with allergies that I fling around in this fic.
An example:
I apologize in advance for all the bullshitted racing parlance and half-assed research into horses with allergies that I fling around in this fic.
An example:
I am making a NuTrek horse racing AU happen. What have I done.
Nyota Uhura picks him out at the Barretts October Yearling Sale. She notices a ruckus while watching the stride on a handsome Benchmark yearling and turns around to see a gangly red-gold colt nearly knock his handler to the ground. Others come to exist and eventually bring the colt back down to earth. Others around her - handlers, agents, trainers, owners - shake their heads, muttering that the yearling’s been nothing but trouble since he walked off the van two days ago and did nobody teach him manners?
She smirks at the implied challenge the colt offers and walks over to the older man keeping a firm grip on the colt’s lead shank.
“Mind if you walk him for me?” she asks.
She notes the way the man keeps shaking the colt’s head to keep him focused but pays far more attention to the colt’s smooth stride. She checks her catalog, marks the hip number, and informs the handler that she intends to have the colt scoped later.
Great, the most illogical song in existence is stuck in my head.
*headdesk*
Oh look, a snippet of TRON porn.
Specifically, Sam/Tron porn from Howl Pt. 2. Click here for Howl Pt. 1.
Rewrote an enormous segment and ended up adding 400 more words of ridiculous circuitporn, like you do.
Also, jfc, Tron. Just, jfc.
Mainly because I desperately want to illustrate something from it and I’ve never written any situation involving handcuffs before.
That alone should tell you what this expanded snippet contains.
7595 words and nooooooooo we are so not done with the porn. Far from it. I’m already envisioning the fuckload of tags when I finally throw this monster up on AO3.
Contains: er, um, negotiating, I guess?
6124 words and counting! contains a bit of blood!kink, bucketloads of Tronzler, and basically a ton of Rinzler/Sam-esque things!
/faffs off to work
but I am way too tired to give a detailed explanation of what the hell is up with this fic snippet
teal deer: I skipped ahead at least a thousand as-yet-unwritten words from where I left off to write a very specific snippet of porn over the past three days (while at work tutoring 4th graders) to burn off excess energy and to see if where I want to take the porn is feasible/won’t make me explode.
includes: aggressive and dominant!Tron, biting, circuitporn, orgasm denial
seriously though I have got to stop writing porn there is plot waiting for me
also going under “read more” because jesus christ let me show you one of my more volatile kinks (and in case you were wondering, Sam consented - enthusiastically, possibly aggressively - in a previous scene) warning(?) - Rinzler is involved.
oh yes
Also this snippet is part of what was originally supposed to be a pornlet based on that one doodle of mine but, uh, massive fail on that front?
~*~*~
There’s a glitch in the dense code that makes up the Grid’s infrastructure and the sector at its epicenter collapses. It’s the first such event in two cycles but that’s not what concerns Tron as he and his team race to the sector. What worries him is that it’s spreading, the system error slowly and surely chipping away at the surrounding sectors, bringing down buildings and destabilizing the city. As one of the few programs with restricted access to the Grid code he can slow it down but only Sam can stop the collapse.
Luckily for him - and the Grid - the system error occurred just two point oh one millicycles before Sam’s scheduled visit, so it doesn’t take much effort to contain the situation.
“Maybe you should go sit down,” Sam says, nodding towards the couch and hoping Tron does as told.
Tron frowns, then slowly asks, “Why?”
He’s moving closer. Sam backs into the counter until its rounded edge digs into the small of his back.
“You’re drunk.”
“It’ll wear off.”
Sam huffs a laugh, shakes his head. “Doesn’t work like that here. I mean, you-I don’t think distilled energy gets you shit-faced enough to go around kissing people-”
“But I like you.” Tron punctuates his point by reaching out and brushing his thumb along the curve of Sam’s bottom lip. His already stormy eyes darken. “Isn’t that what Users do?”
It was a strange new world, full of color and sound and touch and taste and smell. The waterfront was a little less gray and a little more blue - although the gray was a constant fixture of the permanently smogged Los Angeles - and he heard, quite sharply, the lapping water and the purring cars rolling down rough asphalt. The long bike ride from house to school was filled with the smell of wet spring and exhaust fumes, and he could taste it in the air. And he felt-well, he felt the bike handles under his hands and he felt the straps of his backpack pulling on his shoulders, but most importantly he felt free.
And trapped.
A weight had lifted off his shoulders, letting him stand just a little taller, but it left behind in his chest something dark and heated, full of confusion and need and lust. It faded whenever he was in school, whenever he hung out with the few friends he made from the computer club, whenever he was home and studying or helping Grandma around the house, and it reared its ugly head and roared whenever Alan stopped by to check in on them.
Sam ignored it for as long as he could, clenched his clammy hands tightly and swallowed down the butterflies whenever the car pulled up and Alan emerged. He was terrified that the other man would see the flush in his face, hear the rapid thudding in his chest, look into his eyes and read his mind. It mortified Sam to a level he didn’t think possible, because this was his father’s friend, his surrogate parent, the man who stood by him and his grandparents when the world crumbled. He shouldn’t want.
But god how he wanted.
