#I have been rotating this fic in my head for a fucking year and now it's finally here in the open

[thewritingowl]

When Dick took over Tim's infiltration of the Ghost Investigation Ward, he thought he'd be coming out of it with a few files and maybe some information.

Instead, he left with a kid.

Now Dick finds himself trying to learn how to be a father all while helping his new son, Danny, overcome the trauma that he had been dealt by the GIW. It's a roller coaster of a ride, but thankfully Dick isn't alone. Danny now has a bunch of excitable aunts, uncles, grandparents, and even a great-grandfather all ready to dote on him. Dick is determined to give Danny the best life he can manage as he works to keep Danny safe from the myriad of forces that want to harm him.

[jen-with-a-pen]

(In Your) Arms Tonight - 1/2

summary: Hypothesis: If he (Wade) turns off the AC, then they (Wade and Logan) will have no choice but to strip naked and end up sticky and gross and hard together!

That's what he was taught in middle school, right?

pairing: Logan Howlett x Wade Wilson / Worst Wolverine x Deadpool

word count: 1.3k

warnings: MDNI 18+, Wade's POV-ish, blood mention, knife mention, beer mention, Wade's fuckin horny and thirsty y'all, pining, cursing, claws, Wade is looking ✨respectively✨, crude humor and language, slight Deadpool and Wolverine spoilers, no smut (yet, sorry)

a/n: AUGH DONT LOOK AT ME (actually please do I cannot hold this in any longer.) currently part one of two parts. posting the first one now as I am currently traveling for work and won't be back until beginning of September and then part two will be out when i either A. Get home or B. Finish it and format it in between running around like a chicken with my head cut off. Please be patient with me! I will not tolerate "whEreS PaRt Two?¿??" when I literally just told you. Hope y'all enjoy one of the many products of my brain rot. More to come in due time ✨

Not beta'd. Written on my phone and edited via gdocs. Post formatted on mobile because I don't wanna use my work computer lmao

Please let me know if there are any spelling or grammar mistakes!

If I've missed any tags, PLEASE let me know!

gif by @tomshiddles | dividers by @saradika-graphics | warning banner by me ❤️

My AO3 | My Masterlist

Read this fic HERE on AO3

❤️ Reblogs and comments are appreciated, as always ❤️

PART ONE | PART TWO

The abs are great. More than great, actually. In fact, they're all Wade thinks, dreams, and fantasizes about. All day, everyday, non-fucking-stop. The moment replays over and over in his fucked up noodle brain like a scratched record. He knows muscle memory is a thing, but what about salivatory memory?

Christ. He's gotta get a grip instead of getting hard.

But what about when Logan isn't flexing hard enough to rip his goddamn suit off?

Wade notices Logan becoming more relaxed around the apartment as the days pass. Adjusting to his new life, coming out of the bedroom earlier than he has to on days when he gets a turn to sleep on a real bed. It's Sofa City most of the time– which he really doesn't mind, he almost prefers it most of the time (since it's in clear sight of the front door) but Wade more often than not likes to insist they share his 'much-too-big-for-lil-old-me' twin XL mattress that's seen more stains than sex in the last year alone.

Logan's compromise is he'll take the bed and Wade the couch half the time. Alone. They're still working on the negotiations of said compromise, but the jury– Blind Al– is still out on recess.

Once he's more settled in, Logan learns that it's okay to kick off his boots and put his feet up. It's not often, but enough that Wade silently wishes he'd rest those big meaty calves on his lap instead. He's been needing a new weighted blanket and Adamantium-coated tibias and hairy legs are so in right now.

Logan doesn't know it, but Wade secretly plays 'ohmygodhetotallylookedatme' whenever he so much as catches a glimpse of Wade oggling at him in his peripherals. Wade can't help it when Broody and the Beast's ribbed white muscle shirt pulls taut against those deliciously plump pecs that he silently prays it'll burst off again. Or he'll rip it off. Or Logan will rip it off. For him.

A boy can dream.

It's especially hard to win at 'OMGHTLAM' when Logan accessorizes– AKA throwing on whatever flannel is in rotation out of the several he finds at the thrift store a few blocks over. Wade feels his throat tighten like his jeans do when Logan wears the forest green one. Really brings out his eyes.

And smile. And lips. And–

It's still summer, so on the hotter days, when sweat glistens on his brow and Wade desperately wishes to be the back of Logan's hand, the tank top comes off. All Logan's sweaty, gloriously muscular body has on is a wonderfully worn-in pair of jeans with the hem of black briefs poking out behind the denim waist.

Do they have AC? Yes. Because Wade would have to plan a funeral for Al if they didn't.

But when she's out and about, he likes to turn it off and let the New York heat wave run its course. Sure, it leaves him sticky and gross, but he'd rather be sticky and gross and hard when he can help it.

Luckily, Blind Al is gone for the whole weekend. Some girls trip or a drug mule job. Same difference.

Hypothesis: If he (Wade) turns off the AC, then they (Wade and Logan) will have no choice but to strip naked and end up sticky and gross and hard together!

That's what he was taught in middle school, right?

With the push of a button and a sprinkle of patience, Logan is splayed out on the couch in a matter of hours with a lukewarm beer in hand while fighting his eyelids from dozing off to some random war documentary. Sweat beads on his temples and there's a slight sheen to his skin from his biceps to the lower V pointing down to between his thighs. He chuckles every so often, mumbling things to himself between swigs of beer and shaking his head when the narrator gets something 'wrong.'

Wade busies himself in the kitchen but his eyes are permanently glued to his roommate. He doesn’t miss the way Logan's stomach rises and falls gently, the rock-hard six pack softening into rolling hills of muscle with a layer of dark hair covering as much surface area as immortal-like hormones will allow. Grown out beard, chops, and messy hair really throw the whole look together; very 2000s, if you ask Wade. His pecs look just as soft as a pair of titties, if not softer, and Wade knows it. He'd do anything to lay his perfect little head on Logan's chest. Maybe lick it too, if he's a good boy. 

Logan perks up suddenly from the couch.

Oh God did he say that out loud?

"Wade?"

Wade doesn't hear him. Can't hear him. Half-refuses to hear him, honestly. Daydreaming takes up a whole lotta brain power and this show isn't running itself. Economy, budget cuts, unprecedented times. You know the shtick. 

"Wade."

Nothing but a bead of drool comes out of Wade's mouth. 

Suddenly, there's a crash right behind Wade's head and now he's awake. He whips around to the ale-spattered wall behind him and back to Logan, who's now standing with claws drawn and chest heaving.

Wade swears he's blushing. 

Eyes wide and brow standing up straight like his good little soldier, Wade looks down at the counter before him to find a bloodbath of a scene: one hand's on a knife while the other spews blood all over the yellowed counter tops; there's remnants of a carrot that was finished five minutes ago, followed directly by remnants of fingers cut down to the last fucking knuckle and slice marks beginning down the back of his hand.

Wade holds up his spurting stump, gashed artery doing a spot-on impression of Ol' fucking Faithful.

"Oh. Huh. Thought I smelled something," he says, staring at his now-tingling hand. Baby fingers for the rest of the night were so worth the staring contest with Logan's beautiful body.

"Fuckin' idiot," Logan mutters, sheathing his claws and striding over to the hall closet to grab a towel. Wade's already stopped bleeding, but just because they might be immune to bloodborne pathogens doesn't mean Al is.

"Gah– get back, damn mutt." Logan shoos Dogpool out of the kitchen to prevent her from lapping up her papa's bodily fluids. He throws the towel in Wade's face and goes to grab the bleach out of the cupboard under the sink. Logan learned very quickly where to find it the first time this happened a month or two ago.

"Sorry baby, Mommy's got a boo-boo and Daddy's just trying to help," Wade coos at Dogpool. "You're too good to me, peanut. Someone oughta wife ya up before I do."

Logan responds with a scowl as he tosses the carrots out and tries to keep the counter from staining. "Why th'fuck did you do that?"

"It was time for a new hand. Old one was so last season."

Wade mops up the blood from his arm and wraps the towel onto his head like he's just gotten out of the shower. Holding up his regenerating stump, he poses like a cover model for Vogue.

"Whatcha think, peanut?" He strikes another pose. "Is this doing anything for ya, big boy?"

Logan grunts as he tosses a wad of paper towels into the trash can. He turns to leave the kitchen, eyes flicking to Wade. It's the quickest once over ever, but Wade sees it. Commits it to memory while he pulls a Flashdance in a chair from the kitchen table and follows Logan's denim-clad ass as it sways off to the bathroom. 

"'M gonna go shower. Don't wait up,” Logan calls before shutting the door and locking it. 

Sighing, Wade looks down at his crotch, pants tent pitched higher and tighter than a first-timer on Everest.

Good thing he's ambidextrous.

[cdelphiki]

Hi I just wanted to say that my roman empire for the last four years has literally been jason and the three terrors. It was jason and the three terrors in 2020 when I first found it after like chapter two I think and it's jason and the three terrors in 2024 fifty seven chapters in.

I think about it multiple times a day.

I am constantly rotating the characters, their interactions, possible plotlines and arcs and theories and endings in my head like a fucking microwave with my face pressed up against the glass.

Your fic has consumed me because of how good it is and frankly I am never going to be the same again. People talk about that ONE fic they never forget about even years later that like opened their third eye and for me this is it. I'm ruined forever now, sorry.

(all jokes aside, I think you're an incredibly talented writer and I would happily wait five years humming and kicking my feet for whatever you wanted to give whenever you were in a place to update. Love everything you do, I'm so incredibly grateful you decided to share this story and I hope both sides of your pillow will remain cool and comforting forever!)

🥹❤️❤️

You have no idea how much that means to me. This story has been a worm in my brain since 2019 when I started writing it, even when I was going through my rough patch there and wasn’t able to write much, this story was the one I went to sleep thinking about. I’ve imagined the Jason & Bruce reunion a million times. I’m so glad you’re still around after so long and just as excited about it as I am. Thanks for sticking around and thanks for sharing this with me. ❤️ you’ve truly made my night.

[captainkirkk]

✩ WEEKLY FIC ROUND-UP ✩

All the fics I’ve read and really enjoyed in the past week-ish. Reminder: This list features any and all ratings and themes. Please look at tags and warnings on ao3 before reading.

DC

my dearly departed by redrobin1989

Kon heard the stories about how Tim had fallen apart after he died. He couldn’t imagine what Tim had gone through, what he’d been feeling. Even now, with the shoe now on the other foot, Conner doesn’t know how to cope. Especially when he needs to keep his boyfriend’s collapsing family together.

Exit Strategy by smilebackwards

Batman needs a Robin and Batman has a Robin. Tim is just extraneous now, vestigial. He’s a bandage over a healed wound. He doesn’t know what he’s hanging on to.

Or: Tim didn’t expect his exit strategy from the Batfamily to involve quite so much bonding time with Damian over Wayne Enterprises bureaucracy.

the capillaries in my eyes are bursting by Scarlet_Ribbons

Bruce grunts, standing up. “Jenkins said the same. What about what you weren’t told?”

And without dissembling, Jason says, “I think they fucked that kid up, B.”

[Jack and Janet die. As things get weirder and weirder, it feels like Tim might be at the center of the unfolding conspiracy.]

Stranger Things

and i know that you don’t, but if i ask you if you love me— by fakecharliebrown

Once, only a few weeks before his parents decide he’s too old to be tucked into bed at night, Steve grabs his mother by the wrist and asks, “Does Father love me?”

“Of course he does,” she says immediately, smoothing the blanket where it rests over his chest.

Steve blinks up at her. “Then how come he never says it?”

She purses her lips. “He shouldn’t have to, sweetheart. You should just know.”

(It isn’t until years down the line that Steve realizes she’d somehow turned that into being his fault.)

or; Steve Harrington through the years, on loving and being loved.

Percy Jackson

percy jackson and the scrutiny of his coworkers by pqrker

Jim turned back to the tank and looked at Marcie the seal, who was now staring at the spot his coworker had been standing just moments before with that same strange look of reverence in her eyes.

Percy Jackson truly was the oddest person Jim Elpool had ever worked with.

Or: 5 times percy's coworkers were confounded by his fish magic, plus 1 time they try to figure it out.

Star Wars

Bounty by smilebackwards

"You took a puck for Luke Skywalker?”

Din looks up at the tenseness in Cara’s voice.

“Yes?” The puck for Skywalker had been passed over by half a dozen hunters, surprising considering the price on his head, but Din had assumed that was because his last known location was Coruscant. The Core is a dangerous place to hunt bounties.

“If I didn’t consider you a friend,” Cara says, with a tone that sounds like she’s reconsidering it, “I’d shoot you where you stand for admitting that."

SVSSS

What Is Seen by CaveteDracones

....is not [always] the real truth.

Truth-compelling artifacts in the hands of an enemy to one side, SYSTEM-mandated silence on the other, and Shen Qingqiu caught between the two. Is it too late to go back to the Water Prison?

and judgment is just like a cup that we share by Kieron_ODuibhir

The blob finished rotating into place in a way that wasn’t quite compatible with geometry as Shen Qingqiu understood it, and cleared a throat it didn’t seem to have.

“Greetings,” it said, somehow clearly addressing him in particular more than the room as a whole despite its total lack of features other than blueness and translucency. “I’m here on behalf of the Hyper-Celestial Peace and Order Enforcement Bureau. Crime scene secure, proceeding to interviews. Beginning with Subject One: You are Shen Qingqiu, formerly Shen Yuan, also known as Peerless Cucumber?"

[momosandlemonsoda]

for the wip ask game: i think that i'm breaking form a bit here, but i'd be fascinated to hear about your process for the long fics, if you wanted to talk about it. how much do you have planned out in your head before you start? how do you maintain such consistency in them?

apologies right now for how long this got...

So I’ve been mulling this over for a while, trying to figure out how to answer it. I’ll go ahead and use DTSD as the example, since it’s the one currently living rent-free in my brain, but this probably applies to all my long-fic.

A lot of times when I get an idea and start rotating it in my head, I spend a fair amount of time just doing that. Trying to figure out what’s going on, where the story is going, what I want to do before the end. I usually have things I’ve envisioned I want to include. And then lines show up out of nowhere that I have to write down, and then a scene kind of forms around it. 

I start telling myself the story—but I can’t go too far, because if I know the ending, I lose momentum and probably won’t write it. At the same time, I fully expected to be at the next major plot point by now (this was supposed to be 80k, she wails) and I am not because first, there were other plot points that showed up, but more… I wanted to let things happen more organically. I could write you 3k of LLH and DFS fucking for the first time in 10 years, but it wouldn’t have been true to either of them (and I really, really needed LLH to attempt to seduce DFS in an alley and get interrupted, this has been living in my head since like November) (also sex scenes are the worst and I need so many words to get to the actual fucking, maybe this wasn’t a good example). (maybe a better example is that I had no plans for FDB to play the showcase originally and when I decided to do that I figured that there would be like 4 chapters between him signing up and him playing.) ( ha ha ha sob )

I do know what is happening further out—I know the backstory that I’ve been feeding you in dribs and drabs, I know the way that Shan Gudao and Jiao Liqiao are going to show back up. I am determined to have LLH and FDB dance at a club and DFS angrily stalk over and join them. I have a fair amount of the next big arc written down in disconnected pieces (why are the connect-y bits so hard?). So I guess the good news is, I do have a plan for DTSD, and I don’t write unhappy endings. But the ~bad~ news is, I don’t actually know what that happy ending is. I’m still feeling out what seems in character for the three of them. 

As for consistency—first, thanks very much for the compliment! Second, the fics I like best, the ones I come back to again and again, are the ones that take their time to get where they’re going because they really dig into their characters, and they let the characters breathe so that their actions make sense, they aren’t contrived for the plot. So a lot of it is me going, ok, but how would they get there? How would that character react? With a background as a child of privilege living in the real world, not fantasy jianghu China, how does FDB react to being told he can’t make music, when that’s fundamental to him? If Li Lianhua is planning on keeping the rhythms of his life and leaving town because it’s warm now and he has enough money, what would make him stay? (spoiler: it’s certainly not the two men who are half (fully?) in love with him.) If Di Feisheng is a well-known musician trying to make a comeback and his former bandmate turns stalker, how is he going to deal with it?

So I think that’s what keeps me going, and keeps it consistent—I don’t need to bend them into particular shapes because I’m not completely certain how they’ll look in the end, and I’m trying to see how they respond to what I throw at them, and stay true (or as true as I can manage) to my interpretation of the character in canon.

[heavyhitterheaux]

Fright Night

First Lady of Private Garden Fic

AN: Reader beware, you're in for a scare 👻

Synopsis: The annual Private Garden Halloween party doesn't go exactly as planned when Shloob doesn't realize the location he picked for the party is actually haunted

Pairing: Husband!Jack Harlow x Wife!Reader

Requested by my baby @softtcurse 😘💕

Please Do Not Repost My Content Anywhere

“I found the perfect place to go before our Halloween party.” Shloob confessed as PG were all sitting around waiting for him to say where they were going.

Every year PG hosted a Halloween party and it would rotate every year who was responsible for finding a location for it and from there everyone would set up everything and invites would be sent out at the beginning of October.

“And where is that?” Yasmin curiously asked from her spot on the couch next to Urban.

“It’s called Terror Heights and it’s an amusement park that’s Halloween themed.”

“I-..... now you already know that I do not do scary shit like that.” 2fo said while looking over at him and shaking his head.

“Stop being scared, it’s going to be fun.”

“Fun? By whose standards? I’m not interested in someone chasing me with a chainsaw!” Quiiso said while looking at Shloob. 

“What the….? It says that they can come close to you, but they can’t touch you on the website.”

“I think we should go, it’ll be fun and then we can go to the mansion and have the Halloween party.”

“I don’t know about this. Why do I have such an uneasy feeling?”

“Because you’re a big baby who can’t go anywhere without her husband.” Ace answered while looking over at you.

“And? What about it? I have absolutely no shame. And does everyone have their costumes? We might as well wear them to the amusement park so that way we don’t have to worry about changing.”

“Yes! I’m going as Brat doll!” Luna exclaimed and Yasmin was immediately on board with that idea.

“Oooh, I did that last year. I’m going for a cowgirl and of course Urban is going as a cowboy.”

“So you can ride him like a rodeo later?” You asked while wiggling your eyebrows.

“Y/N!!!!”

“What? I didn’t say anything that wasn’t true! Shit, I’m about to do the same thing to Jack!”

“Here yall fucking go! Will yall cut it out just for tonight?”

“No.” You and Jack said both at the same time and he leaned over to kiss your forehead.

“Well I’m going as Captain America.” 2fo said and you smiled. The two of you had been doing some serious binge watching when it came to Marvel movies as of lately.

“I’m going as Audrey from Little Shop of Horrors.” Nicole added and you smiled with that being one of your favorite movies.

“Mine is simple. Michael Myers. A classic.” Ace said while smiling. 

“I’m going as Prince. I got a whole wig and everything.”

“Shloob, I look forward to seeing that. You wearing the heels too?”

“You’ll find out later. No spoilers.”

“I’m surprised Jack and baby girl aren’t going as a pad and a tampon.” 

“SIGMAAAAAA!” Urban yelled and everyone busted out laughing. 

“What are you two even going as?” Quiiso asked while looking over at the two of you.

“I got me a Georgia peach just like Bowser.”

“MARIO AND PRINCESS PEACH! I LOVE IT!”  Yasmin exclaimed. 

“I’m going as MJ.”

“Michael Jordan or Michael Jackson?”

“Heehee bitches!”

“What the actual fuck is wrong with you Nemo?” You said as you busted out laughing.

“Okay Quiiso that just leaves you. What are you going as?”

“Hamburglar from McDonalds!”

“I can’t wait to take pictures.”

.All of you were now walking into the amusement park ready to explore and you were holding onto Jack’s hand for dear life.

“Baby? Don’t tell me you’re scared already?”

“Shut up, Jackman. Not helping.”

“I’m going to be with you the entire time, mamas. Nothing bad is going to happen to you.”

“You promise?”

“Yes, I promise.”

“Will you two come on?! Yall are slowing us down already and Yasmin! Who told you to wear them tall ass heels to the amusement park? Ma’am what if we have to run?”

“A bitch can run in heels just fine and besides, Y/N’s heels are taller than mine!”

“I had to look cute!”

“Which you do baby.” Jack said as he leaned down to kiss you.

“CUT.THE.SHIT.NEOW!”

“Okay, is that the house of mirrors? Let’s go.”

“No, the fuck I’m not.”

“What the hell is wrong with yall? Nothing bad is going to happen, come on.”

Everyone followed Shloob into the house of mirrors and you spent time making funny faces at Luna who was laughing at you.

“Damn Y/N, this mirror captures your actual height.”

“Fuck all the way off 2fo before I kick your ass.” You said while you laughed and playfully pushed him. 

Once all of you exited the house of mirrors, everyone was looking around for Nemo or should we say Michael Jackson.

“Where is Nemo?” You asked while looking around at the group and everyone shrugged.

“I coulda swore he was right behind me.”

“SEE??! I KNEW IT! THEY ABOUT TO PICK US OFF ONE BY ONE! WE ABOUT TO DIE!”

“Dramatic much, 2fo?”

“But we seriously need to find him. No man left behind.”

“Shit, it’s every man for his fucking self. Ain’t nobody tell his ass to get lost.”

“NICOLE!”

“DID I LIE!?!”

“Somebody has to go back in and get him.”

“Over my dead body. Somebody call him because issa no for me dawg.”

“Yall are terrible.” You said while whipping out your phone from your bra.

“Damn, Y/N, what else you got in there?”

“That concerns my husband and no one else. And my weed is in there” You said as you were now dialing Nemo’s number.

Straight to voicemail.

“I don’t understand, it went straight to voicemail.”

“Oh shit, here we go.”

“Will everyone calm down and act like they have some sense? Jack, go back and get him.”

“WHAT?! WHY ME?”

“NO! YOU AREN’T SENDING MY HUSBAND OFF TO BE KILLED!”

“WHY ARE YALL SO DRAMATIC? IT IS LITERALLY A BUNCH OF MIRRORS!”

“Then you go, Luna!”

“Fine!”

Just as Luna was about to turn around and go back, Nemo came from around the corner stuffing his face with cotton candy.

“Are you serious?! Where the hell did you go?!”

“To get cotton candy obviously.”

“And you didn’t think to tell us?! Or get us any?!”

“No, yall got legs and can walk over there just like I did.”

“I’m done with yall, anyway can we keep going? What’s that up ahead?”

“Don’t know but I saw a clown and Quiiso does not do clowns.”

“Why are you referring to yourself in the third person?”

“Does it matter? I SAW A CLOWN!”

“OMG I SHOULD HAVE DRESSED UP LIKE PENNYWISE, YOU’LL FLOAT TOO BITCH!”

“Y/N!!!”

“And Jack could dress up like Georgie. Oh yes, next year babe we’re doing it.”

“Oh, so I take it he didn’t even know about the other costume?” Yasmin asked you while raising her eyebrows.

“What other costume?” Jack curiously asked as everyone was making their way over to the haunted house.

“Umm…”

“She was going to be a dominatrix.”

“Fuck, that’s hot.”

“Well umm baby you still technically can do it later. I’m definitely down with the idea.”

“I-... will you two behave?!” Nicole exclaimed as screams were now heard from the haunted house in front of all of you.

“Nope.” You said as you hid behind Jack and Yasmin hid behind Urban.

“A bunch of babies, I swear. Let’s go!” Nicole said, trying to pry your fingers from around Jack’s waist.

“NO! YOU DON’T HEAR THEM SCREAMING?!”

“No one has died! Come on!”

“But how do you know that?”

“You are about to cut off your husband’s circulation from holding him so tight!”

“Fine.” You loosened your grip and followed behind Nicole while still holding Jack’s hand.

“Welcome to Terror Heights and I hope you enjoy your stay.” a lady who was dressed up as the corpse bride said as all of you entered into the house.

“Jack, you go first!”

“Yall been throwing me under the bus all night! Why the hell do I have to go first?!”

“Because you’re the tallest!”

“What the fuck does that have to do with anything?!”

“All of you out of my way.” Nicole stated and moved to the front with you and Jack following close behind.

It was quiet for a few minutes and all of you were beginning to feel uneasy.

“Nah, it’s too quiet. Some shit about to pop off.” 2fo said while looking around.

Just then you heard the familiar sound of a chainsaw.

“OH HELL NO!”

The next thing you knew, a guy with a chainsaw was literally running behind all of you.

Shloob fell, Nemo tripped over him, Luna was nowhere to be found and you figure that she ran off awhile ago, Yasmin was screaming and ditched Urban and ran for her life with Urban yelling at her that she left him, Quiiso and 2fo were trying to duck and dodge the dude with the chainsaw, and Ace was doing mission impossible rolls on the floor while you, Jack and Nicole took off running leaving everyone else behind.

“I AM NEVER FUCKING DOING THIS AGAIN!” You said as you were now running with one hand holding your dress and your shoes in your other hand.

“Almost there, AHHH SHIT GO FASTER! HE’S COMING, HE’S COMING!” Nicole said and she didn’t have to tell you twice. 

All three of you found the door that exited the house and led back out to the amusement park and Nicole immediately pushed it open with the two of you tumbling out behind her.

“That’s it. I want to leave NEOW!”

“Imma kill Shloob.”

It was about ten minutes before the rest of PG and Yasmin came out looking distraught.

“How the fuck did yall just leave us?!”

“You and Nemo fell. It’s every man for himself!”

“And Yasmin just left Urban to fend for himself.”

“Look, he wasn’t moving fast enough for me. I was like see you on the other side, hopefully.”

—

The annual Private Garden house party was now underway at the location that Shloob picked and everything was going perfectly. From the spooky alcoholic and non alcoholic drinks you made, bobbing for apples, finger foods that were shaped like actual body parts and the amazing decorations, you were pretty proud of yourself.

“Baby girl?”

“Yes, smush?” You asked as you turned towards Jack and he looked a little uneasy.

“Umm do you get like a weird feeling being in this house?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean something about it just feels off to me.”

“Don’t tell me my baby is paranoid.” You said while eyeing him. 

“Nah babe. I’m serious, something doesn’t seem right.”

“I’m sure it’s nothing. Come on and try to have fun.” You said while reaching up to kiss his cheek and going back over to where Luna, Yasmin, and Nicole were.

“Nas! Who are you dressed as?” Druski asked, clearly confused.

“Ice Spice! You can’t tell?”

“Obviously not, that’s why I asked.”

“And who are you?”

“Drake, obviously.”

“I-... I don’t see it. You look like the security guard I saw at the hotel the other day.”

“NAS!”

“WHAT? WHAT I SAY?”

“Have yall noticed that the lights have been flickering on and off since we got here?”

“It is an old house.”

“But, something feels weird.” Luna said while looking around and taking in her surroundings.

“I said the same thing.” Jack confessed while looking over at her.

“Yall stop trying to scare me. You know how I am.” You said while eyeing the both of them.

“Baby, that is the last thing I’m trying to do, I just…”

“Umm so when I was dropping off things here earlier in the week, I would set them in one spot and when I came back they would be somewhere else.”

“Oh hell nah, absolutely not.”

“And this place is not too bad during the day time but it still felt weird and creepy so I knew that this would be the perfect place to have the party.”

“I’m not going to be able to sleep tonight.”

“You weren’t sleeping anyway because I’m tearing that ass up later.” Jack said before leaning down to kiss you. 

“Got damn it! Not now!”

“She has to put her dominatrix outfit to good use! Jack you just might cum in your pants when you see her in it.”

“YASMIN!”

“WHAT?! SHE LOOKS SO GOOD IN IT! WHAT DO I HAVE TO LIE FOR? SHE HAS A WHIP AND CHAINS!”

“What is this about a dominatrix outfit I hear?” Clay said while making his way over to where everyone was.

“Favorite Harlow child!”

“No, no, and no. Back up from my Georgia peach NEOW!”

“It's not my fault she loves me more.”

“You wish.”

“She confessed this info months ago.”

“Okay, you two calm down.”

“Imma beat his ass later.”

—

It was now around 3 am and a few of you were cleaning up and taking down decorations that you wanted to use for next year. You and Jack were gathering things up to take them to the car when the unexpected happened. 

"Baby…. Did you? Did you see that?"

"Mm hmm and you know good and damn well black people don't do ghosts."

“I told you that something wasn’t right about this place.”

“We need to hurry up and get out of here, now. I am not for the nonsense tonight.”

Jack made his way to the front door and tried to open it with no success.

“Baby, the door isn’t opening.”

“What do you mean?!”

“IT’S NOT OPENING! AT ALL!”

“FUCK I HATE THIS. I HATE THIS SO MUCH.”

Everyone came to see what all of the commotion was and you explained to them what was going on and what had happened. 

You took it upon yourself to pull up your phone and do a little research and when you had finished reading a few articles, you wanted to kill Shloob. 

"SHLOOB THIS PLACE IS ACTUALLY HAUNTED?!? WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK!?!? WE GAVE YOU ONE DAMN JOB!" You screamed and everyone began to freak out. 

"I DIDN’T KNOW! THE REVIEWS WERE GOOD!"

"THE REVIEWS!?!? SHLOOB YOU DIDN’T SCROLL DOWN FAR ENOUGH! PEOPLE HAVE SAID TO STAY AWAY FROM HERE!"

"WE'RE ALL GONNA DIE!" 

"DRUSKI SHUT UP! NO WE AREN'T!"

"THE DOOR ISN'T FUCKING OPENING SO HOW ARE WE SUPPOSED TO GET OUT?!"

"Y/N! FLASH THE GHOST!"

"QUIISO THAT HAS TO BE THE DUMBEST THING THAT YOU HAVE EVER FUCKING SAID AND MY WIFE  ISN'T FLASHING ANYBODY BUT ME!"

"WHAT IF THE GHOST IS A GIRL?!"

"WHO KNOWS SHE MIGHT BE A LESBIAN!"

"WILL EVERYONE STOP YELLING AND LET’S THINK FOR A SECOND!" You said while trying to calm everyone down.

“WHAT IS THERE TO THINK ABOUT? WE’RE ALL GONNA DIE!”

“DRUSKI GET A HOLD OF YOURSELF!”

“Okay so apparently the ghost who haunts this place is named Amelia Wallace. She passed away here and apparently her husband went off to war and never came back and she was pregnant and a whole bunch of other shit but yeah.”

“I don’t care about her fucking back story, I want to go home!”

“Oh shit and it’s the witching hour! It’s 3 am.”

“It was nice knowing yall. I had a good twenty something years on this earth.”

“Luna! Quit it!”

“We just have to figure out how to get out.”

“Windows!”

“Nah, she’ll probably close the shit on top of us and cut us in half!”

“CLAYYYY!”

“Did I lie?”

“Just let me try the door again.” Nicole said and walked over to it. She turned the knob and it opened with no problem.

“That was too easy.”

“Welp, it’s been not fun. So LET’S GET THE FUCK OUTTA HERE!”

As Nicole held the door open, the rest of you were literally throwing things out of the door to put in the car later not wanting to risk getting locked in once again. 

2fo and Quiiso started to load up the car while Nicole was waiting for Yasmin to come out since she hadn’t seen her. Just then she heard a voice from behind her.

“Won’t you stay? I could use the company.”

All of the color drained from Nicole’s face as she turned around and was met with a young woman in 1800s clothing staring back at her.

“You have got to be fucking kidding me.”

Nicole then turned around and made a run for it towards where everyone’s cars were parked.

You and Yasmin then looked over at her confused.

“Nic? You okay? You look like you’ve just seen a ghost.”

“Because I just did.”

Everyone proceeded to turn around and look at her in disbelief

“WHAT?!”

“Next year I’m staying home and eating candy.” You said while looking up at your husband who simply nodded his head in agreement. 

Taglist:

@harlowsbby

@babyharleezy

@hoodharlow

@stefansalvatoresgf

@jackiehollanderr

@primadxna-girl

@dessmxsworld

@cockslutslurper3000

@raelorns21​

@variety-fangirl​

@gbaabyyyy

@kamorsstuff

@harlowthot

@sinsandsuccubus

@curlyhairclub

@bootlegroach

@haylexo10

@thinkingaboutjharlow

@fluidsentiment

@charli123456789

@moody4world

@yourstrulymayah

@yana4life

@beanbagbitch

@alinaharlow

@carma-fanficaddict

@minaxcarter

@arination99

@xjup1t3r

@venusvinc

@jacksmoviestar

@jackharloww

@midnight-star47

@minkookie95

@inluvwithladybug

@tynesharandolph8633-blog

@exoticr0ses

@jharlowsangels

@jackierose902109

@jackmansbabymama

@cmalass

@megawhoree

@softtcurse

@sia2raw

@miniaturehideoutmentality

@hoya122

@nattinatalia

@jackslover12

@skyesthebomb

@jackharlows-world

@louisianalady

@fdl305

@automaticpeachsong

@harlowcomehome

@gassyandsassy1

@babygirlwilly

@amethyst09

@harrycanyonmoonn

@toocriticalharlow

@liv2sworld

@tattered-tales​

@sisiking99

@dessxoxsworld

[madnessformunson]

Try Losing One

Summary: Fighting with Eddie was never easy

Note: it’s me again coming at you with a fic based on personal experiences, hope you enjoy. Most definitely not my best work, but I just needed to write something

You and Eddie have been dating throughout high school. He was always so easy to talk to. When it was your sophomore year, you were the new student at Hawkins High. Lost and unsure of who to talk to and where to sit, when the long haired boy bumped into you in the hall.

“Hey where are you headed to Speed Racer?” Eddie let out with a chuckle as he picked up the fallen papers.

“Oh I’m so so sorry, I’m just a bit lost. I’m new around here” you said with a small smile.

“What class ya headed to? I happen to know the ins and outs of this place”

“Um” you said she you fumble with a piece of paper containing your schedule on it “looks like history with Click”

“You are in luck, fair maiden, I am heading to her class as well” he said as he locked arms with you and escorted you to class.

—————————————————————————

Sure over the years you had your fair share of arguments like when Eddie started getting especially close with Chrissy.

“For the hundredth time y/n, I do not have a crush on Chrissy! She just came to me for some weed, that’s all. Nothing more I swear”

“You should tell that to her, she was going on and on about you in Mrs O’Donnel’s class to her friends. Said you were a sweetheart”

“I can’t help that I’m a sweetheart” he said to you with a grin “but seriously y/n there is nothing going on between me and her. You are it for me babe.”

A tear slipped out of your waterline, “I can’t compete with that Eds, she’s perfect and I’m just … not”

He came over to embrace you, cupping your cheeks in his hands as he used his thumb to wipe away the tear.

“You are perfect to me y/n”

—————————————————————————

But this new fight, it bigger than a simple kiss could fix. After graduation you moved into a small apartment just the two of you. He was working as a mechanic and you were a full time student. You were almost done with your nursing degree, something Eddie and you were so excited about. He had been supporting the two of you the best he could so you didn’t have to work through the program, knowing once you reached the end your lives would be so much better. The past two years had been stressful for both of you, he spent every day working, never taking a day off and you were drowning in assignments and clinical rotations. Both so engulfed in your own dreams, forgetting about the one you wanted to share together.

You had the day off of school as you curled your hair in the small 4x4 bathroom. Eddie had the day off as well. He stumbled into the bathroom surprised to find you getting ready.

“Where are you heading off to today?” Eddie questioned.

“I have an extra credit assignment to turn in today, he said he would grade it right away to add the points to my class” you state not looking away from your reflection in the mirror as you fluff the curls in your hair.

“Why because you need an A++ instead of just a simple A+” Eddie said as he slumped against the door frame, rolling his eyes.

You ignore his comment as you finish putting yourself together.

“You know my teacher and the doctor at my clinical site said they would write me a letter of recommendation to get into nurse practitioner school, I told them I wasn’t sure but they offered me a spot to shadow to see if I like it” you said gathering your belongings.

“How much longer would that be”

“Another year or so, but I could make almost double the money. Seems like a small price to pay for a brighter future and so many more opportunities”

“You got to be fucking kidding me right? Eddie let out with a sigh. You follow the sigh with a look of confusion, not sure where this burst of attitude came from.

“I’ve been working my ass off for two years to get you through school and now you want to keep going for another year?”

“Well I haven’t looked into all the details, not even sure if I’ll like it yet Eds, I was just bringing up the possibility”

“You make all these decisions without me. I thought we had a set plan, after you graduate we were gonna find a house and get out of Hawkins”

“I never said I was going to do it! It’s just an option, god I thought you would be happy for me” you start to raise your voice. You know he has been more than supportive of your education but he is turning something good that happened for you to be a negative thing.

“You are being so selfish right now” you ignore him as you leave for your class. The next thing Eddie says, he knew he would regret it as soon as it left his mouth.

“Gotta get all pretty for your teacher huh? Guess we know how you get all those A’s”

You turn around to face him, tears starting to form.

“You know Eddie, sometimes you are really ugly”

And with that you left him. High and dry in front of the apartment building. He tried to reach you throughout the day, knowing your schedule and exactly where you should be. You never answered. That’s the thing when fighting with Eddie, he loses his temper quickly but is always the first to apologize. But you were tired of him apologizing, that doesn’t make what he says ok. You decided after your class ended that it was best to head to your mothers house, crash there for a few days while you gather your thoughts.

[darkpoisonouslove]

1, 2, 7, 8, 24, 25, 27 for fic writing asks :) Hope you’re feeling better!

Thanks!

1.the last sentence you wrote

Well, I posted the last fic I worked on so here's the last sentence(s) from my Fallen Love Chapter 3 doc:

Her head spun from just the couple inches her heels added to her height. She’d bet on practicality for years but combat boots would only take her back to the battlefield. They simply didn’t make sense without the threat of war hanging over her head.

(I was going to play by the rules but the angst doesn't really hit with just the last sentence so...)

2. a character whose POV you’re currently exploring

Oh, my god, I've got nothing for this. I have been sick for over a week. Before that I was barely working on that Erendor x Samara fic I wanted to finish. Tbh my head has been way more into House of the Dragon (heaven knows why when the writers are hacks) than any of my own stuff. Like, I am hyperfixating in the most annoying way where I'm not coming up with fic, I'm not really analyzing the text that much, I'm just rotating the same thought in my head like it's a microwave that doesn't work and I'm hoping the heat generated by the rotating motion itself will be enough to cook my fucking thought.

But yeah, if we're talking about actual writing, then I'd have to go with Griffin since Fallen Love is all from her PoV (and so are all of my other recent Griffin x Valtor ideas, which are all I have). She's, uh... She's having a bad time and I don't know how to make it better. The good news is that I don't have to yet but at some point she's going to have to figure out what to do with her life now that she's not at war every day and I. Don't. Know what I'll do then. For now she's having Realizations TM but those are def spoilers.

7. your preferred writing fonts

I don't have any. Unless the one that's already set isn't an abomination, I just don't care. I'm using Libre Office and my default is Liberation Serif so I'm just using that.

8. if you had to write a sequel to a fic, you’d write one for…

I suppose that fics that already have sequels planned don't count? I have several for which I'd write an AU but a sequel? Let's see.

Yeah, nope, I'll have to pick something from those that I've already thought of continuing.

Originally, Imitation Play was supposed to have a sequel but I decided that I don't have a clear enough idea for it so I've left it alone. I already have enough other stuff to work on but if I had to write a sequel to something I've already finished, I'd look at that one and try to figure out how to continue it.

24. how do you recharge when you’re not feeling creative?

Usually watch movies. Way more rarely read a book or fanfic. But if I'm looking to spark thoughts, then listen to a playlist or even make a moodboard (which I haven't really done recently). Recently I found out that spending time and having fun with your family can really charge you like nothing else. Huh, who would've thunk?

25. besides writing, what are your other hobbies?

There's watching movies and reading books. DIY. Drawing. Playing various games (sudoku, mahjong, jenga, crossword puzzles, chess occasionally). A couple more that I'd feel like a fraud if I list because it's really been years since I've done them.

27. your favorite part of the writing process

It's what would fall under outlining. When I'm making sense of the story and adding ideas, tying plot points together and just weaving it all into one. I like seeing how it comes together into a coherent story and since it's not super serious at that point, I don't have to stress out that much. I'm just throwing pasta at the wall and seeing what sticks. And then arranging the stuff that sticks into a coherent, beautiful pattern. I like that!

send me fic writer asks

[thosewickedlovelies]

wildflowers  |  Joel Miller x Reader

Summary: A change in the air, small as a candle flame

Tags: No warnings tbh. GN!Reader, not an age gap fic. If any soap-makers are reading this, do not tell me if I’m wrong about the QZ’s capabilities

Words: 1,511

Note: hiii babes. I don’t really know what this is, other than my brain’s desire to say something about this man. A possibility, perhaps. Written after ep 3, although there’s no plot/canon references.

Masterlist

Joel’s knees ache with every step upward to his apartment. The staircase protests beneath his weight, as if the chipped paint of the railing and the grime and graffiti on the walls weren’t warning enough about the state of this place. Not that people had much of a choice about it. This building is no more derelict than all the rest in the QZ. Unless it’s FEDRA quarters, maybe.

Joel snorts, and then has to stop as a lance of pain through his ribs takes the rest of his breath away. Fuck. Bruised from that slip he took earlier, maybe. Damn sewer maintenance.

Joel can hardly remember a time before the ever-present pain. Had there ever been a point when at least one part of his body didn’t ache, or twinge, or pinch? Had he ever lived in a world where everything wasn’t as gray as this fucking staircase, where he at least had some distraction at home from the shitty parts of the world and his aging body?

The door to his apartment opens, and the first thing Joel registers is the smell. It’s pleasant, sweet, like a sunny meadow full of wildflowers. What the fuck? Nothing smelled nice in the QZ- even all the flowering plants of spring couldn’t cover the stench of human hopelessness or the rotting world outside the walls. 

“Joel! You’ll never guess what I found last night!” You rush around the corner from the living room.

Carried by your passage, another wave of scent billows over him. Amidst dropping his keys and gear, Joel pauses for a fraction of a second, his eyes closing. Memories rise up, unbidden: a fat, tri-wick Yankee candle in his childhood living room, one in a rotation of his mother’s favored scents. The heady perfume of real flowers, the ones lining the fence of an Austin side street where he first kissed-

His jaw clenches, and he lets his pack thunk loud onto a dining room chair, hoping the sound will shatter the hold of his memories. 

Joel turns his head to you, raising his eyebrows. Well?

“Candles! That’s what the smell is- they were buried under some debris in an old corner shop, you know, the kind that were the first places to be looted when everything went to shit. Nobody went digging for a pack of scented candles then, but now…” Your eyes shine, proud and somehow…happy? 

Joel glances past you, to where a tiny flame dances brightly on the rickety bit of wood you call a coffee table. A little scented wax, about as useful as a bottle of perfume but more wasteful (firestarters being a valuable commodity), has brought you this much joy?

“I hope you plan on sellin’ the rest of the pack, unless you found somethin’ else to make the trip worthwhile.”

He doesn’t look back as he heads to the bathroom, intent on getting out of the sacrificial clothes he wears to work in the sewers.

You scoff, trailing after him to deliver your retort. “Obviously I did, no way I’m selling the whole pack. I need something to cover up your stink.”

Scowling, Joel pokes his head out around the bathroom door, only to see your mouth already open to finish him off. 

“And I’m not talking about the days you work sewage.” You smirk at him triumphantly.

A deeply resigned sigh is the only response you hear.

Joel has had two years to get used to you as a roommate, after the last building you both lived in collapsed unexpectedly (Or at least, unexpectedly to most. Joel had seen the signs, which was why he hadn’t lost as much of his stuff as everyone else. But he hadn’t been able to predict the exact moment it would fall). You’re…not the worst he could have gotten. Between your respective smuggling groups, you lived reasonably well (Joel still remembers the night that realization had come to light- it was the closest he’d come to genuine laughter in years). You’d even gone on the occasional independent run together. You don’t get in his way, but nor do you enable his worst impulses; although he’d never acknowledge it, it’s come to be something of a relief to have you around.

You’ve moved on from making fun of him, now listing other goods last night’s trip had brought in, interspersed with the occasional observation on the world outside or gossip about the people in your group.

Joel listens with half an ear, silent but not uninterested. When the last of his clothes are hung outside the window (where they’ll remain exiled until his next trip down below or until the smell fades), he turns to bathtub.

Shit.

For all their skill of stretching resources, their latest bar of soap had finally squeaked out its last gasp of bubbles yesterday. Their spare was still in its protective wrapping…somewhere decidedly not in the bathroom.

Joel sighs again.

The pile of spandex that was his underwear lies crumpled in the tub already. He’s motionless for a long moment, his ribs sore, his skin gritty.

“Hey,” he says, interrupting your musings.

“…Yeah?”

“I forgot to bring in the other soap. Would you mind…grabbin’ it for me.”

“Oh, sure.”

Silence stretches between you, as intangible and yet undeniable as the network connecting the mycelium. It’s there even as other sounds spring up- your quiet footsteps, the rustle of you rummaging through packaging. 

It thickens as you return to the bathroom door.

“Here.”

Your voice is closer than before. Just on the other side of a thin wooden barrier. No other sound breaches the silence connecting them, and Joel knows that it’s up to him to make the bridge.

The click of the doorknob is loud. Maybe silence is the wrong word for the thing connecting you, because it’s still present, undiminished despite sounds like that click, the whisper of the door opening, the beating of his heart.

The air on your side of the door is warmer without any windows open, and still laced with the scent of wildflowers. 

“Here you go.”

Your voice- it sounds like someone trying to sound normal, but failing in a way Joel doesn’t know how to describe. You feel it too.

Joel eases his body slightly further toward the gap, and reaches out his hand.

You try to keep your eyes on his face, or your hands. Try to keep your expression neutral, blandly amicable. But Joel sees the moment you fail. Catches your gaze flicker past the reach of his arm, to his very bare shoulders, chest, waist.

Joel hasn’t been a vain man in years. Decades. His reputation in the QZ is enough to keep most people from looking at him too long, anyway. But you….he’s seen you look at him. He’s let you look at him- in the silence of their shared apartment, on those rare, fraught ventures outside the walls. 

What you’re seeing now isn’t much more than what you’ve seen before. You’ve patched him up a time or two, and he you. All the same…

The look in your eyes strokes some dusty, long-forgotten part of Joel that wants to preen. 

It’s not a very overt look, to be fair. A tension in your jaw. A shadow of interest, a willingness to be interested, if it weren’t for something stopping you. Like you knew better than to entertain the notion that he would return your interest.

And Joel…feels bad about that.

What? 

Yes, that’s what that is, a twinge of regret- for being so closed-off, so unavailable, that you wouldn’t even consider that he’d be willing for a roll in the sheets. 

Your hands connect. Or rather, they both connect with the soap. The crude, QZ-produced chunk hovers between you, both of you holding onto it.

You swallow, your gaze finally tearing from the sliver of bare hip Joel had left visible beyond the edge of the door. Thick and strong as the rest of him, an intimate curve whose appearance sent your thoughts whirling like dandelion fluff. You force that careless smile back onto your face. 

Joel’s fingers are less than an inch from yours. He stares at them, their subtle, restless stroking motions against the waxy wrapping.

“Thanks,” Joel finally says.

“Sure.”

Something has shifted in your face. A cautious curiosity emerged, as if you recognize the presence of a new feeling seeping through the fracture in his thoughts; as if you’d felt it through the not-silence still connecting you.

Tentatively, you release the soap. Your invisible connection holds, unbroken despite that Joel now grips the soap alone.

He lifts it to his nose. His face wrinkles at its strange tang, too strong for it to truly be considered ‘unscented’.

“Maybe smellin’ nice ain’t so overrated after all.”

His grimace made you laugh; a grin breaks across your face, in a shade of teasing you’ve never used on Joel before.

“Well, you know where I’ll be.”

Joel watches you waltz back toward the living room, and breathes in the scent of wildflowers.

💕💕💕

[night-dark-woods]

5, 7, 15 for the fic asks!!

thank you!!! this got extremely long.

5. What’s a fic idea you’ve had that you will never write?

oooh hm. idk about Never, but ive been rotating the idea of Chalco and Aunor interacting bc the different ways they orbit around Ikora FASCINATE me, and the things that have been asked of them are very different. it would have to be epistolary i think and while i DO think i have enough primary sources to get their voices and values alright (letters from Aunor etc, and then WQCE my beloved), im not confident in my ability to do epistolary, & also i'd need something specific for them to argue about (that i also am interested enough in to litigate thru character POVs).

i've yet to decide if I'm accepting the TFS ending cutscene panel where Ikora is using strand, bc im suuuper ambivalent on Ikora using any darkness subclass- i need to re-listen to a bunch more post-campaign stuff to see how i feel about it, bc i know she talks to Mara a LOT in mission voicelines, and i think a lot of their past conflict has been over Mara's antipathy towards the Light & focus on balance over sheer faith in the Traveler (not religious Faith-faith, as we've talked abt before, bc i dont think Ikora sees the Traveler as a *god* like Zavala does- it's like gravity or thermodynamics its simply *true,* and can be explained. its not something that requires faith or sacrifice.)

but if i decide to accept that as canon then i think that would make a FASCINATING argument because Aunor has been Ikora's hunting dog for YEARS, cold-blooded killer putting down guardians who fall to darkness, and i think the sheer betrayal (from Aunor's POV) of Ikora changing her position on that would cause SUCH a crisis of faith for Aunor (what does that mean for what she's done in Ikora's name? what does that mean for how she can live with the weight of it?), and i think constrasting that with Chalco being Ikora's right-hand man (her silly rabbit / does she call you that / no) BUT without the blind loyalty that Petra has for Mara ("you are not the queen and i am NOT one of her cadre") could be sooo fun bc it wouldn't be a simple "Aunor mutiny Chalco loyal." i just dont know if Actually Writing it will provide more enrichment for me than just rotating the concept in my head.

that got long!!! and also ive partially convinced myself to work on it eventually lol.

anyway. that's the main one that i can think of, that isnt a "this scenario sounds hot BUT i dont want to write it bc there isnt enough character work to make the logistical nightmare of writing porn worth it" LMFAO

7. How many ideas for fics do you have right now?

5-ish?

- Elsie&Amanda (nicknamed "horsegirl movie but its a robot with dysphoria") where Elsie needs help fixing some part of her body and she can't do it by herself for some reason and then has to deal with the fact that Amanda regards her body with a simple honest appreciation that Elsie will NEVER feel for herself bc of when and how she became an exo!!! her own mother calls her body a "walking lazaretto" and she watched her father die horribly for this technology!!! god!!!

- Ikora's fight with Madhir & how she let him eat her ability to want anything. god. Ikora Rey woman that you are. also inspired by the way the demon works in dunmeshi bc i think the Ahamkara should work more like that. fuck monkey's paw genie trick wishes, getting exactly what you wished for and in doing so losing part of Who You Are is so much better. the Ahamkara aren't evil tricksters they are PREDATORS they are the very tippy top of the food chain and as dunmeshi says. to eat is the sole privilege of the living. there is no moral weight to that no matter how violent and that makes the violence of it far more interesting!!!

- somewhere between 3 and 5 high-concept porn fics, 2 at WIP stage and several that may or may not get written, all Petra-centric bc i (and Jackie) love to put that dyke in situations (all have Mara/Petra/Sjur as a given established relationship, the two WIPs are focused on Mara/Petra and Petra/Sjur & the ones that may just stay as ideas have bonus Petra/Amrita(/other corsairs) & Petra(/Sjur)/Amanda)

15. How do you come up with titles for your fics/chapters?

song lyrics mostly!!! often the one i was listening to a lot while writing/thinking about it, or one that makes me feel like that post thats like "song that reminds me of my favorite character comes on and i make the most unwell expression known to man."

the problem is i want the vibe of the whole song to mostly fit which means i've recently become aware that i nearly exclusively listen to sad music, apparently, bc i could not find a Single Song i like that fit the very fluffy/conflict-free Amanda/Sloane fic i wrote recently, so instead its both a line from the fic and a bit of a pun on the content lol: follow-through (impact play)

[saiiboat]

i’d love to hear about your fuga sailing stuff \o/

HII ^_^ awesome. ok. so atm i have one silly racing au that i rotate in my head and one fic in the works which takes place directly after fuga when guaxinim, pac, and mike leave the island together on the boat. this one is heavy on the hurt and lighter on the comfort and is essentially just pac on one massive spiral now that he's starting to process everything that happened in prison and the island. lots of pac feeling guilty about cell's perceived suicide and struggling with his anger at mike for getting them into this mess. he's very much an emotional wreck LOL. hes been through so fucking much man. also going from being enclosed in a prison for a year and a half and then being out on open water and the crazy anxiety of being in such an open space is. well. its really getting to him. i'll leave some snippets of it under the cut 💪💪💪

the racing au is really just silly⛵💪💪🔥🔥🔥the nature of the sailing autism being that i always need to take some guys and throw them on a racing team, all of their insanities included.

when i talked about this au before i said that they sailed j22s but im upgrading them. they now sail Melges 20s. its official. ill put images under the cut. god. gorgeous boats.

the general idea is that JV and cell are two sailors looking for new members for their respective crews. felps is already on cell's crew and guaxinim sails with JV. probably at some point jv was on cell and felp's crew and now they have some kind of crazy beef. anyways. cell is just as weird and gross and intense as he is in fuga and he really wants pac and mike on his crew and having nothing to do with JV. obviously mike is skeeved out by the weird gross guy who looks maybe a bit too hungry sometimes and tries to get pac to join JV's crew with him. unfortunately pac is way too enamored with cell's negative rizz and cell proposes the idea to pac that tazercraft splits ways and mike can join JV's crew on his own. Mike is understandably upset at this but still ends up joining JV and guaxi's crew. the two boats have insane tension and pac is torn between pretending none of this happened at all and ignoring mike/sending worlds saddest eyes back to mike. mike is hurt and pissed off at pac and cell and felps and does his best to pretend that they dont exist at all while also needing to beat them in every regatta ever or he'll DIE because maybe if he wins against them enough times it'll prove something to pac. what will it prove? i dont think even he knows lol.

cell is actively trying to drive a wedge in between pac and mike and JV is doing the same thing on the other side. felps is purposely looking the other way during all of this and guaxinim is watching it all go down with some sick sense of fascination. definitely just hanging around to watch it happen like a long drawn out car crash.

cell in this au is especially fascinating to me. squeezing him like a stressball. he's ten ways fucked in the head and the reason why he started sailing in the first place is because his therapist told him to get a hobby and it was downhill from there. anyways cell tells his therapist about pac and the next time cell sees pac he walks up to him and says "my therapist says that we need to get coffee together and have normal interactions so i stop thinking about eating you" and pac just goes. oh! and its the hottest thing anyones ever said to him

obsessed with them, frankly

^^ sexual images fr

[belethlegwen]

You are so wonderful and I hope things smooth out for you sooner rather than later. Obviously you should prioritize yourself first (god knows we all have sooo much good fic of yours to reread), but it leads me to a question I’ve been too shy to ask 👉👈 how do you feel about recursive fic about your fics/characters? Would you be ok with us sharing it with you/others, crediting you for the creation of such good characters of course? I have serious Stranding/Rescue brainworms and it’s making me want to write drabble & fluff for the first time in a long time 💕 of course it’s fine if you’d be more comfortable with me not posting it — either way, thank you soooo much for sharing this lovely world & worldbuilding & all the characters within. I will be rotating them in my head for years no matter what 🙇

Hello and good morning! Or afternoon, I'm not sure. I'm drafting this answer over a late breakfast because I got a precious day of sleeping-in and I'm still thinking deeply about it.

Firstly: I want to hug you so tight (if you were down) because this is wildly sweet and flattering, thank you so so much for reaching out at all even just about the works, but the wishes that things smooth out are highly appreciated ;-; We're looking… solid? Right now? But there's still so much up in the air and hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh I won't bore you with it, it's not the reason I'm drafting this out.

ABOUT RECURSIVE WORKS [very long, read under the cut, tl:dr summary at the end]:

I would love it. I would genuinely, honestly love it, with the caveats that you laid out that proper credit would be given (thank you so much you lovely beautiful soul), that it be clarified wherever it is shared that it's based on characters/settings/storylines of the current works, but truly importantly that it would clarify that the works are actively still being written at this time.

That's my biggest hesitation, if I'm being honest. The stories are both at this time unfinished (they are all unfinished, I am a creature with heavy need to process things through writing and, quelle surprise, I am never truly finished processing anything, new shit just needs to get processed, wheeeee) and being that they're unfinished, there's a chance that any recursive work could hit on a scene/plotpoint/moment that I've already got plotted out for the future. I'm not Neil Gaiman or anything, I'm not planning to make money off of this work, so it's not my concern that you or anyone else is gonna turn around and try to sue me for stealing something or whatever-- that's not the problem. I just don't want you or anyone to feel at that point that the effort you put into something was then copied and put in the main work or something.

It's an odd situation. The odds of it actually BEING a problem I know are astronomically low, but I didn't get to where I am today without chronically overthinking everything.

I love that you have a desire to create, and I do not know who you are-- I don't know if you already have projects and characters of your own and just want to branch out with something familiar-but-new, but I want to encourage you to use this energy and focus for writing all the same. If you can put it into your own works, hell yeah, but also: yes I would be flattered if you used my dorks and their silly little worlds. It's just the concern where I'm not finished with the stories yet. I just am, again, overthinking and overworrying, likely, but if I could stop doing those things then life would presumably be easier.

I would be absolutely down for like, experimental works I believe is the best term for what I'm looking for. Characters and stories based off of my works that are wholly new. Want to write a refracted AU about Melinda and Hank in Space? Fuck yeah, yes. Though I mentioned this to Zip and they immediately told me No, We're Doing That One and we laughed about it for a hot minute, so maybe not exactly those names hahaha

I guess another question here is, if you were to put in the effort and the focus and the pride of writing something based on my characters, of a scene you had in your head, and got through the beauty and pain of creation to get it down and then put it out there, how would you feel if something similar then happened in the main work? Not the same, not based on what you did, but that similarity still there and still noticeable at least to you. Like if someone had written (before I had posted them) something similar to Melanie being involved in a Naval battle, even though I have the receipts that that arc was written in November of 2022 and only finished posting in September 2023, I don't know how they would feel to still see that like, a similar idea had been there.

On one hand, personally, I love being in the G/t community and reading other people's works when I have the spoons and focus and time to do it, because I love that something as simple as "small person falls and big person catches them" permeates the ideas so often, and what that can mean to dozens of different creators. Refracting the same light through a diamond and watching the facets all scatter it differently, etc etc. It's beautiful. It makes me happy. But that's a personal thought, and I know how deep and personal writing can be. I know how much the process of creation can mean to the individual. I don't want you to go through that, to write something beautiful even if just for yourself, and then think in some possibility later that because I did something similar I was trying to do it 'better' or whatever. It's not the case, it's never the case.

So, after chatting about this with people I love in this community (I love you Zip and Kelly <3), I think the solution is: If you want to chat with me about the like, basic bare-bones of the ideas you might have just to give me a heads up, and I can let you know if it's something that'll be in the main works soon and if I'd rather you wait on something, or if I'd go 'oh fuck yeah, go ham', I would adore to chatter away with you about it all regardless. I'd love to chatter with you about writing in general! My characters, your characters, whatever. I'm down. Please feel free to hit me up and I'll get back to you whenever I can <3

Let me know what you think! Thank you so much for the sweet message and the ask!

Cheers,

~ Belle

[TL;DR]

When it comes to recursive works I'm interested and open to them provided they're not something major/heavy I'm planning to tackle too soon in the future canon, as the works are still being written and posted. I am always down to receive DMs about writing, and would prefer to get messages about the recursive fic ideas (as vague as you'd like them to be!) just so I can give a quick yes/no on if it's something I'd rather you wait on until I can get it out myself, or whathaveyou. I don't see this being a huge problem, and if you're good for chatting then I'm positive we'll have a good time with this <3

Writing recursive fics for my existing, in-progress works means agreeing to the caveats that credit be given to me and the existing works, and clarifying when posting that the fic is not canon and the works they're referencing/possibly based on are still in progress/being written. It also means accepting that there is a chance that things tackled in your fics may be similar to things that have not yet been posted for said works.

When it comes to experimental fiction based on my characters, settings, or plot: hell yeah go full 50 Shades if you want to. File the serial numbers off of it and/or write something New Enough. It's what I did to Jonathan Swift, please feel free to do it to me hahaha.

Shortest answer: Yes, just send me a quick message first <3

[binch-i-might-be]

oh god. i cant. like. i have so many thoughts in my head rn. i need to choose just one to rant to you about. but my god. know i have SO MANY

and no bc i am constantly thinking about how they have to hide. how theyre so fucking in love but nobody can ever know. how their love is so fucking pure and sweet and yet nobody can ever see it, but the unhappy arranged marriages are flaunted for the world to see.

yk whats on my mind constantly? how nobody came to their wedding. because they couldnt. it would be too dangerous. not even the people who know. because it was already so dangerous, even when it was just them and the river and the stars.

and the LINE. "you can share your life with the man you love without fear and thats a luxury i will never have" lives in my brain. just constantly. like my god. you pulled out ALL the stops in that fic. that line tore me APART. like okay. what if i just sobbed.

god. im just. im cradling them in my hands. these poor poor boys.

- 🐥

give them to me ....... send them ALL 🌀

dude it literally rips me apart. that's one reason I'm so obsessed with the reincarnation au, because finally finally finally they get to hold hands and kiss and be silly and young and in love. they're constantly in each other's arms, touching at every chance, to make up for the 45 years they had to hide

NOBODY CAME TO THEIR WEDDING! it was just them and it was so special but. they didn't even have an officiant. because no one would have married them :(

THANK YOU. I loved that line, I loved that John was the one who got to say it to Martha. he needed that. he deserved that.

actually you mentioning the wedding and Martha reminded me of a little bonus fic taking place during Green Eyes that's been rotting in my drafts for like two years now, I'm gonna put a lil snippet under a cut!

yeah. cradling them kissing them tucking them in nice and tight and protecting them :(((

“Alex, dear, I- would you mind telling me a bit about that wedding of yours?” she said, brushing her thumb over a chip in the smooth porcelain cradled between her hands.

She had asked George about it after Alexander had left last night, but he hadn’t been able to tell her anything, either. He had not been present for it; on some level, she had been glad, even if that was petty, perhaps.

It was just hard for her, sometimes, to realise Alex felt he could be open with his father while he so obviously treaded on eggshells around her, even giving a warning every time he was about to mention the man he wanted to share his life with.

To know George hadn’t been involved in that wedding was a bit of a consolation.

Alex snapped his head up and regarded her with wide eyes. “Really?” he said, and there it was again, that guarded expression, as though he expected her to launch into a lecture about sodomy and the fate of his immortal soul any minute now.

Martha ignored the dull pang in her chest that came every time she was reminded her sweet little boy distrusted her on some level now, and forced a smile. It felt stiff on her face, and she knew she had raised a very sharp young man, so she hid it behind her cup.

“Yes, really. Of course, I have attended some weddings in my time, but I do think yours might have been very… special.”

Alex huffed a soft laugh and cut his gaze away, his eyes finding the gently shining ring on his finger instead, and a blissful little smile conquered his features. “You could say that.”

Well, that distraction had worked quicker than she would have thought.

“So?” she prompted, careful, and nudged her knee against her son’s thigh.

“Um,” he said and slowly turned his cup between his fingers, an old habit he had picked up from George, who liked to absentmindedly rotate everything from wineglass to teacup when he was lost in thought. “What would you like to know?”

“Let’s start with something simple,” she said, and Alexander chuckled. “The date?”

“June sixth,” he responded at once, smiling softly to himself.

“Oh, a summer-wedding? That must have been nice," she said in an attempt to show him he had nothing to fear right now, that he could be honest and open with her as he was with his father. "Your father and I got married when he was on leave in January. The snow was beautiful. Awfully cold, though."

Her first wedding had been in autumn, but Martha tended not to dwell on that chapter these days.

Alex snorted a laugh and took a sip of his tea; he wasn't tense, and he didn't seem suspicious of her intentions anymore.

It was a start, she thought.

"It was… a little different from your wedding, I think," he said. His eyes were so soft and happy, not even a trace of his earlier tears in sight, and Martha wished she could understand it all. What drew her son to that boy, and what drew Laurens to her son, and how they fit.

It just seemed so odd to her.

"How so?" she prompted gently after a beat.

Alex flushed a bit at that, didn't meet her eye. "Well, it was… private. Just the two of us, out under a tree at midnight. The- the moon was full that night. Cloudless sky." He took a slow breath, and his smile slipped a little, gained an almost sad note. Martha shuffled closer and squeezed his arm. "We went down to the river and said our vows under a willow."

He turned back to her, his smile returning full force. "It was perfect. There's not a single thing I would have changed."

Martha hummed, thoughtful. She couldn't help but wonder about the stricken look that had flickered across his features just now.

"You mean that, love?" she said, and Alex nodded, let his eyes slip back down to the ring he twisted around his finger–Martha had to bite back a fond smile at that gesture, something she herself had done for over twenty years now. Perhaps Alex hadn't only picked up his habits from his father, after all.

"What was that frown about, then?"

[fluffypotatey]

any tips and tricks for getting into the writing zone?

ok so i have 2 methods and they depend on what i'm writing on: story writing and essay writing (waring: this is a mini-ramble)

with essay writing,

get mad, get super fucking mad, write that shit with spite flowing in your veins. even when i'm writing essays and stories i enjoy, i drag my feet.

i whine and complain like a toddler in my head because despite this topic being one i enjoy, putting my excited tones and rambling into coherent words always tends to feel like i'm butchering that (which is why academic papers should simply let me swear in them and use the 1st pov bc it is sO easy and my thoughts flow a lot better but noooOOOOoooooOOOOOooooo, i have to be formal and proper and-)

also, outlining. fucking godsend with essays. it's why a lot of my longer essays have headings bc i use them to outline and keep my thought on one line of thought bc i have a rambling issue (which is then easily solved with parentheses, my beloved)

with story writing (notice how this is basically a heading? good job! you've found my mini outline for this reply! have a cookie 🍪)

i find that jotting down that scene that is nagging at your brain immediately is super helpful. and do it even if you're now writing out of order. pro-tip: writing out of order is THE best, endorphins be going crazy bc you're actually not fighting with your brain with the story but writing alongside your brain-map.

personally, i find it very difficult outlining a story (how contrary) because sometimes my mind changes ideas or switches the order of scenes, and it is exhausting trying to keep up with all of that in your outline. but i guess, my "outline" with stories is simply me jotting down a very quick summary of the plot that invaded my mind in one document, never touching it again, but staying true to it because i wrote it down. therefore, it exists no longer in the recesses of mind but it a physical statement/promise to complete.

also (this advice goes for both story and essays) it is ok to take a break, step back, and not look at your writing for some hours, days, weeks, months, years--fucking whenever.

my midterm essay? a fucking nightmare. loved the topic, would write something similar about it for fun, but the reason it took me so long to complete (and why i dragged my feet) was because of the "short" timeline i had to complete it. i felt like i was on a time crunch and that led to me procrastinating, stressing over it, and taking my grand old time researching for it. however, when i was able to work on it? i allowed myself to simply do as much as i could. if i was unable to look at that stupid document, i didn't look at it. if my mind had a really good thought or example for the topic rotating in my head? immediate sit down and get that thought onto the paper. it must exist.

i have fics sitting in my folders that have been unfinished in so long, but i still consider them as wips because (and here’s another subpart-advice) i tend to work on them when i am unable to touch my current work. to be frank, working on something else helps keep you in the writing zone even if you cannot stand to look at the blank/unfinished work you wanted to complete originally. when i was incapable of writing for the Monkie Destiny Challenge, i switched to working on writing and editing my teen wolf fic (a fic i had not looked at since July) because while i still had that itch to write, something was blocking me from completing the prompts. and when i switched fics, getting into the zone was a lot easier.

so, to recap:

when jumpstarting the writing zone for writing an essay, you get passionate (can be read as mad/spiteful), and outline your thought process of the essay with headings to keep the writing flow flowing (the headings do not need to stay in the final product but they are good to have in the draft) .

when jumpstarting story writing, write! that! shit! down!!!! chronological order doesn't mean shit when you're in the planning/writing phase. your readers don't have to know that you wrote/planned a character's death before writing/planning out the beginning. they just read it in the order you publish it in!

to keep the writing zone stable and in working condition, TAKE THOSE BREAKS BOO! who cares about your personal deadlines???? if you feel exhausted before opening up a doc, then take that break, babygirl. again, your reader(s) will not need to know (nor do they need to know) how long it took you to get your writing piece done. hell, if you still feel the itch to write but the thing you wanna do is not working, then work on something else you haven't touched in a while because that itch WILL get its scratch somewhere, so help me god.

so yeah, i hope this was helpful, anon (and coherent jfc there better not be a plethora of typos T^T). happy writing, and may your weekend be a healthy dose of eventful!

[ninjadeathblade]

Compliance (a Bad Batch fic): Chapter 4

Summary: This series of chapters is going to be about how Wrecker got his scar. Totally based off of a brief line in @just-here-with-my-thoughts' Test Subject series.

Warnings: Swearing

Word count: 547

Beginning / Previous / Next

Author Notes: This I the closest we've gotten to fluff so far folks! Yes! Enjoy!

Crosshair moved swiftly and soundlessly along the halls of Tipoca City, eyes narrowed at the lights, holding tightly onto Wrecker's toy. Even though it was well into the night cycle, the lights of the city always remained blinding. Crosshair flicked his toothpick onto the floor outside of the medical wing before casting a wary glance back down the hall.

A couple of shadows flitted across the wall before two younger cadets rounded the corner, giggling to themselves as they ran down the hall. They didn't glance in Crosshair's direction and he let out an amused sound. Him and Hunter had been like that in their younger years, before things got more complicated. Before there were more operations and tests. Before they had been sent out on missions.

They'll be like us, sooner or later.

No. Not like us.

They're just more regs.

Crosshair let out a quiet snarl and shook his head, creeping into medical. Wrecker was asleep in his bed, drooling slightly. Without the bacta covering his face, Crosshair could see the damage. The spidering scars that spread from his ear around his face, helmet blown out by the explosion.

"I'm sorry," Crosshair said into the quiet, only disrupted otherwise by the beeping of medical monitors. He tucked the plush Tooka toy into his brother's arms, turning to leave. Wrecker's large hand enveloped his wrist and Crosshair turned back towards him.

"Love ya," Wrecker murmured. Crosshair let out a huff of disbelief.

"Whatever," he replied, withdrawing his hand and heading back to the Batch's barracks. As the door to his shared room slid open, Tech looked up from his seat on the floor.

"Where did you go?" He questioned, adjusting his goggles.

"Like you care," Crosshair snarked, crossing the room.

"I do. I think you should stop discrediting my emotions," Tech shot back at him. Crosshair let out a sigh that was part laugh and turned back to face him.

"Oh yeah? Then how about you show it once in a while?" Crosshair spat, picking up a blaster and shooting the monitor in the ceiling. "Because our brother is in medical and we don't know what's going to happen to him! We don't know if he'll live more than a few rotations!" Crosshair drew in a deep breath.

"I am worried for Wrecker as well. Just because I am not as close to him as you are doesn't mean I feel any less strongly about what may happen." Tech stood up to his full height and Crosshair remembered how much he slouched. Now he was ever so slightly taller than his younger brother. "I honestly wish you could see past your own worries sometimes, Crosshair. I don't understand what you are going through, I will give you that. However, I do know you. And I know that this is how you show that you care."

"Fuck off," Crosshair growled, turning around and storming back to his bunk. Tech let out a sigh, picking something up off his worktable as Crosshair flopped down onto his bunk.

"Catch," Tech called and Crosshair grabbed the small scope as it was flung at him. "It's for your rifle. I made it shaded to help with…" Tech trailed off but Crosshair understood.

"I didn't ask for this."

"You didn't have to."

[scenetocause]

SHIP OPINION or something adjacent to it… when you rotate alex albon in your head who comes to mind? have you ever vibed with chalex? i luv their little flirty giggly thing like maybe it’s not DEEP but they bring each other little bits of joy. if you happen to have thoughts i would like to hear them!

alex is so incredibly polycule coded in my head. whether it's girlfriend swapping with george or the classic milky way situation with george and lando (thank you ao3 user sirius for my LIFE)

i sort of never think of charles for some reason except when i need someone to do depraved things with carlos. BUT chalex is very important. charles likes alex soooooo much it's really embarrassing and he was all over it when they were streaming in lockdown but he still does it now. like seeing alex is the most exciting thing possible and you know what, he's right.

charles, who's all, y'know. charles. il predestinato, the pain of being the one true ferrari driver, painted scarlet in agony and just as much in victory. charles is in awe of alex. clearly alex has a hell of a presence because like, lando was a little alex fanboy too and george likes alex a ridiculous amount but alex is god to charles in a way no one seemed to be. when he first arrived in f1, especially when he get to ferrari, he wasn't reverential to lewis and sebastian he just wanted to beat them. his attitude to alex, though, is worshipful. charles needs alex to like him even more than he needs every other human being on earth to love him, which is a lot. charles' thing for alex is irrational, unreasonable, a crush on a deep level that alex is a safe person to have it on because he'll brush it away and not feed on it. charles loves alex like someone in thrall to the supernatural and alex makes him a cup of tea or something and asks how the piano's going.

i don't think i can actually write any chalex so here's an old ultra-deep-cut actual fic of some alex/george/lando that got deleted a few years back. warning: features double penetration, background carlando, probably loads of errors cus it was the writing on my phone era after le grand concussion.

The little fucker is glowing. George knows he looks good, Alex obviously looks great but Lando is like a blushing bride, lit up and joyful and uninhibited in showing it. It's the same way he's always been, even when it used to be for just them.

It doesn't require genius detective work to know who's sparking Lando up now. George and Alex had never exactly broken up with Lando but they'd consciously made space around him for whatever was going on with Carlos. They were there when he reached out, never far but far enough to let Lando decide what he wanted. 

And that had made them a bit less three and more two-and-one, which had always seemed almost inevitable but frustrated George. If they could solve the geometry of their triangle through some magical thinking, anything would be possible, surely? 

But Lando is glowing like he's been lavished with attention, cackly laughter barely contained and with the sort of flush George knows isn't only post-coital but also anticipatory, bubbling with the affection Lando needs to want to go there. It makes him proud - and jealous. 

He nudges Alex's knee with his own, gestures with a subtle movement of his thumb and appreciates Alex's eye roll. In between the tests, Alex will tell him he's an idiot. He'll push George into his own bedsheets and fuck him until George can't think about missing when there was three, only the join of two and George is grateful, so much but Alex must equally know he needs this jealous moment. A last gasp at possession, an acknowledgement of the loss. 

Lando, small and annoying goblin that he is, had been a warm weight between them - vulnerability by proxy when neither of them could show it yet, eager to get fucked and cuddled and say the things that scared the shit out of them all, quietly, cradled between Alex and George after. Fears about their careers and lives and love that would've been too stark, said by anyone actually capable of articulating them. 

But they're not rookies at this anymore. Alex has held him, crying and cum-stained and vice versa and the crutch Lando's inherent wobbliness had excused them had turned into proper support. At which point, George had to admit he just really missed kissing the little git. 

He pokes Alex's thigh again, expecting another eye-roll but instead gets a micro-second of a hand covering his before Alex is obnoxiously manspreading, rubbing his knees against both George and Lando's and when the orange-clad body on the end looks round, his face and the glow in it is all for them. 

-----

"I've missed you wankers." Lando swearing, unless it's with his hands clenched in sheets and hair messily crushed into a pillow, soaked in sweat, still sounds ridiculous. George pulls him tight against himself anyway, dragging Alex behind Lando. 

"Thought you had some sexy new boy to keep you busy," Alex thwacks his arm and George knows he's being ridiculous but sometimes, from the back of the grid, he's not envious of them but he wants just as greedily as they both do. 

Lando has to nearly climb his shoulders for a kiss, demanding and reassuring. "Yeah well I thought you'd gone off without me and you know I hate that."

Alex tuts at the pair of them, smoothing soothing hands down them both. This is how it works - front runner comforts midfield and backmarker in everything, from when Lando had to learn the finer points of lasting more than five seconds in bed to Alex getting taught how to relax enough to not need to charm everything into being his way and George's own lessons that in this, too, he could be patient. 

"Carlos is good to you, yeah?" George feels guilty that it hadn't even occurred to him,too caught up in how obviously the most annoying big spoon in history had gone to wriggle every five seconds against someone else's neck. Carlos has a girlfriend or something, he's pretty sure. 

"Yeah." Lando hides his face against George's jacket, lets them bracket him underneath this fire escape, as comfortable as ever without an exit route. 

"Ok mate. I just miss shagging you, Alex never comes forty seconds after I get my cock in him." Both of them hit him, for that, "Oi, this is an abusive relationship."

Lando shushes him, snuggles closer. "You can still shag me, you giant moron."

Alex's hand moves to George's cheek, smoothing a thumb down his jaw, "That would be nice. I can't keep up with George's stamina alone."

Landos hand stretches up to cup Alex's as they all lean in, George's arms around both their thin waists. "What about tonight?" 

Their joined-hand slap is more of a stroke and the kisses more than make up for it. 

-----

Lando wears a nice shirt, like he's making an effort, which is frankly weird. It makes George's cock twitch, though, where the buttons are a little undone and he thinks about the times they've wrestled each other out of suits, Lando's fingers at George's collar while Alex pulls off his jacket, both their hands working his trousers open until Lando knelt in front of George, wet-mouthed and with Alex's hand in his hair. 

"You still with us, G?" Alex has looked up from kissing Lando and they're a picture, one unusually well-groomed and the other in one of George's t-shirts that somehow doesn't fit despite their similar proportions, hanging off one of Alex's shoulders. 

"Yeah. I was thinking about the Autosport Awards." Lando blushes, hides against Alex's chest and holds a hand out blindly, fingers reaching to George. 

It had been one of the last times of three and Lando had disappeared after, made himself scarce from Alex's huge bed. George had been worried they'd hurt him, until he saw the Insta stories about shopping with Carlos and nestled down against a tanned chest, let Alex comfort them both about it. 

After was one thing, the before, though. 

Alex teases Lando's face up, with strong fingers, as George takes his outstretched hand. "Do you think you could be up for that, tonight?" 

Lando looks uncertainly between them. "I can try - it's been. You know. Carlos doesn't fuck me, so."

George is suddenly harder than he's ever been in his life, "You don't have to."

Lando reels George in by their joined hands, puts George's fingers against his crotch to show him, "I want to."

Alex grumbles at them stealing all the attention between them and George has to kiss him for a bit, Alex's tongue in his mouth while his fingers play over Lando's cock through his jeans. 

Something shifts and he realises Alex has picked Lando up, the youngest's legs round his waist to bring him up to their height, "Hey."

Alex looks dreamy, gazing into George's eyes before he looks to Lando. "Ready?" 

"Might need some lube and stuff first but yeah." George can't help laughing - yeah, they probably will. He goes to find it, while Alex carries Lando to the bed and they go about undressing each other. "Leave his shirt on, I want that."

Alex looks up, his hands around Lando's thighs where he's yanking fabric down, an expression that's almost dangerously hungry, playful. "Whose?" 

George slides onto the bed with a thud, lines himself up on his back next to Lando so they can hold hands while they're looking up at Alex. "Not the guy wearing my manky old Quiksilver from, what, F4?" 

Lando grins, grabbing at George for kisses while Alex dispatches his jeans. "Oh G, that's hot - get naked."

Alex has always been the voyeur of the three, loved George and Lando's showoff tendencies and farbeit for him to resist an opportunity to take his top off. Especially with his boyfriend's (plural maybe, still) eyes on him, hot and dark and wanting. 

That's what George likes, has always liked about this. The reassurance of not one but two, able to get deeply lost in them both and as he settles back down, Lando spreading his legs while Alex opens the lube George passed him seconds ago, George feels less possessive and more possessed, letting Lando grab at him and bite his shoulder when clever, elegant fingers disappear beneath him. 

"Oh, we missed you." George trails his fingers over quivering abs, half-cradling Lando. Neither of the rest of them would try this, more seasoned at the art of knowing not to be frustrated by their limits while Lando still refuses to have any. "How does he feel, Alex?" 

Lando writhes, annoyed George isn't kissing him and he acquiesced while Alex is commentating, feeling what he's doing to Lando through their tongues and lips. "Same as always, like someone made the perfect twink who's a total slut for your dick."

Lando breaks the kiss, grabbing at George's face but looking at Alex "It's not just his dick."

Alex leans down, placatingly kissing at Lando's chest as he must do something pretty good, that's a little bit on the edge. Lando arches up, makes a strangled noise and reaches for George's body, Alex's shoulder, "Fuck - fuck. I like your dick too, fuck's sake, I just. Fuck, Alex, please."

Lando is not capable of saying it, right now or ever but George basks in the incoherent affection, reaches out for Alex's dick to stroke him, make him shiver while he's still readying Lando. 

"Oh fuck, G. Lando, keep talking and it's gonna be me coming first." Alex squeezes more lube out, both hands going between Lando's legs and the resulting gibberish out of the smaller man makes George's heart swell, watching Alex enraptured by it. 

"Fuck, god, it's so much - it's so good, Alex I need you. I need you both, fuck, I missed you. Oh god, fuck me - George, please, I want you too." It's surprisingly actual-word-like, from Lando, maybe Carlos has been teaching him to use them rather than animal whimpers and soft noises that'd never fall out of him or Alex. Probably. Even if they had three of Alex's right fingers and one of his left, wrapped around George's index finger where he's stretched down to get involved, inside them. 

"You want to try?" Lando whimpers, nods, mutters 'yes' and turns ragdoll between them as their fingers leave him, manhandled onto George's lap because he's bigger and it's easiest this way. 

George hold a hand out for Alex, joining fingers over Lando's hip while he more helps the smallest of them onto him than fucks in, loosely fisting Lando's cock for some contented noises while he settles against George's shoulder. "Ok?" 

"Very OK." George's cock twitches - and he knows Lando will have felt it - when Lando sweetly kisses under his jaw, across his collarbone. "Alex?" 

Alex is looking down at them, fond and frankly, thirsty. "Fuck each other for a bit - I've missed watching you."

George doesn't need telling twice to thrust up into Lando, knowing he's more than ready. Alex is a little less keen to be fucked unless he's in the mood, which is fine and makes it so special between them. But there's something very appealing about someone who's really, really into it - and George is really trying not to let his mind wander to how the fuck Carlos isn't doing this all day - and Lando is so pliant and responsive in his arms, crying out and pushing back and using George for support. 

When he feels Alex's fingers at his own balls, he slows - Lando whines about it but George remembers him liking what came next, so for the sake of both their dicks aching for a minute they can wait. 

"Touch his dick, G," Alex's fingers are slick and wet against the base of George's cock, then alongside the shaft, in Lando. 

"Fuck, no-" everyone stops "-no, no not no that, don't touch my dick or I'll cum. Sorry. Argh, Alex, do it."

Lando's voice is shaking, his thighs are trembling and when George brings one arm around him, supporting him, his whole body is a tremor through which George feels Alex push in, while their linked hands squeeze and dicks nudge together and George has to throw his head back and whine, delirious. 

It's not really fucking, like this, just frantic little movements between them and gasps as they push each other into the support. George can feel Alex's legs shaking almost as badly as Lando's, as his own, Lando using a hand on George's chest to push himself back and make Alex grab at George, frantic with something while his other hand curls round Lando's chest, holding him. 

It's barely like sex, too much - like a litany is what George keeps thinking but he has absolutely no idea what that means because his brain is glitching between the pressure of Lando's body and Alex's cock and his balls feel so tight he can't help it when it happens, crying out while he comes in Lando and over Alex's cock. 

"So much for stamina," Alex is holding Lando up, over George, their dicks still inside him. "Wank him off, I'll be quick."

Lando sighs, content, eyes closed while Alex fucks him, "I like when you talk over me, like 'mm a toy."

It sounds so wrong, George's post-orgasmic state not as caught up in the filthiness as they are except that Lando says it with such affection he can't help moving his hand faster, tighter, desperate to get Lando to come as he sees Alex bite down on his shoulder, rough and broken in the noise he makes. 

Lando is quiet when he comes, easily his least plausible trait if it weren't George knows he wanks off about seven times a day still and paddocks don't leave you much privacy. It's messy - all of them were, everything is, especially George's thighs where it's all leaked down and Lando must be a disaster but he can't do anything but bring them both down for a cuddle. 

They have to be careful, Alex spooning Lando while George - clearly the designated jizz sponge for the night - lets him curl up against his collarbone, nuzzling Alex over Lando's head. 

It's not a circle, it won't be even in every direction all the time, morphing and pulling but F1 isn't about equals, it's about finding what works.