#I'm starting to enjoy being part of the fandom less and less.

[lucienarcheron]

Seeing some of those comments on the fairyloot edition of tog gives me the ick so bad. this fandom can be so disgusting sometimes.

[ereborne]

Song of the Day: March 17

"I Like It" by Cardi B, Bad Bunny, J Balvin

[my5hiningstars]

.

[celestialholz]

Live long and fuck in Hondas (or 'why that Vulcan salute is way more significant than you think it is')

Hey. Hey Holz. Did you know Deadpool and Wolverine fucked in the Odyessy? Did you know that they now live in a one-bed with Blind Al? Did you know that -

Yes, friend. I know all of it. And you're all super fucking valid for pointing it out.

... But maybe all of you aren't seasoned Trekkies like me. Maybe not all of you gorgeous people understand the true significance of this.

Or maybe you just want a definitive way to win the argument of "are these two fucking?"

But either way, I'm here to help, and to tell you why, amongst all the absurdly homoerotic text of this film, this moment? Might be the gayest of them all.

Now, we must start by saying that although you wouldn't know it from the bullshit Abrams films, these two:

Are the fathers of gay fanfiction. Spock and Kirk here are the reason you're living in the fantastic timeline where you can write/read men fucking without any other shred of plot and that this is a legitimate and normalised internet experience - everyone say thank you, iconic papas. These guys were so homoerotically coded that even in the 60s, the era of wondrously overdramatic performances of all kinds and fairly prevalent homophobia, The Girlies still took notice, still started mailing each other fics and making zines and being just hugely excited at the thought of these two getting space-married. They are fandom as we know it today's beginning, and seventy years later they're still an enduringly popular ship on AO3. (You should all go and watch Amok Time, by the way. Contains the Honda Odyessy scene of the 60s, except there's weird biology and wrestling and just go and put it on your screens, thank me later. They fucked on that planet.)

Anyway, these two were as close as early colour TV could ever allow two men to be, deepening their *coughs* friendship almost every single episode or film - Trek's creator Gene Roddenberry even gave them a unique word in Spock's Vulcan language, with the meaning of 'friend, brother, lover.' (And if that isn't ringing any Poolverine bells, I'm not actually sure what you want out of this post. Enjoy it anyway, love you.)

... And then we get to 1982's The Wrath of Khan, and to that moment that every iconic screen couple must face - the ol' classic, it's you or me and I won't let it be you.

Sure, the set-up's a little different here - the chamber Spock's in is filled with radiation, and the scene's quieter, softer. And Kirk isn't a mutant so he can't smash his way in, he can just sit there and inwardly die as his emotional support Vulcan does.

... But you get where I'm coming from here. Ryan Reynolds doesn't take a million other potential love scenes from across the cinematic ages - no, he takes this. What is for many the romantic acknowledgement of a whole generation. The humble and desperately sweet beginning of it everything we fans know and love nowadays. The most ambiguously romantic homosexual relationship in television, directly comparative to what is now arguably the most ambiguously romantic homosexual relationship in cinema. And lest we forget, Wade doesn't believe in a fourth wall - this is a conscious choice, both in canon and in the writer's room.

Oh it's so clever and so beautiful a girl could weep. Ryan just introduced the MCU to the gays, just as Kirk and Spock did all those years ago to the masses of the time.

And then there's what it means.

This is the Vulcan salute, created to mean either 'live long and prosper' or 'peace and long life' - it's used more or less interchangeably.

But part of that's irrelevant when you're as immortal as these two.

So we're left with the sentiments of prosperity and peace, given to a man who up to this point can't imagine ever prospering again, is the furthest thing away from being at peace. Wade gives Logan the opportunity to go on, to find the things he's been lacking for so long now - things he has already helped him find. Spock tells Kirk during The Wrath that 'the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few,' and that's exactly what Wade's doing here - sacrificing himself for the greater good of his friends and his newly beloved, however much it will hurt them all.

And that's lovely, and poignant, and character-growing, and I think we all would have been content to leave it at that and have our noble sacrifice, however much we would have wept. Kirk goes on to find the remnants of Spock's soul in the next film in the series, to bring him essentially back from the dead because he felt it was more than his own soul's worth not to have done... which, again, ringing a bell anyone?

Because Logan, in not so many words, tells dear Wade to fuck right off, and we get this.

What we've got here is a direct translation of one of cinema's gayest moments, made somehow infinitely more gay. A true achievement here - I genuinely think I spontaneously acquired tetanus in the cinema for a good minute, my jaw dropped so hard on seeing this. The pillars are the same colour as Kirk and Spock's original uniforms, for fuck's sake. I'm dying out here.

What we've done here is create narrative equality. The whole film's kinda done that leading up to this anyway - they're both mentally fucked up men who can't die, who are constantly dying anyway, who are evenly-matched in battle and both enjoy Honda fucking, who have forged a real love even as they piss each other off at every turn.

But here, they place one another in narrative equality for the first time. It's not about a sacrifice, not now, even though they're assuming it is one - it's about what should be done. It's about righting wrongs, being heroes, being together because every option other than that is unacceptable, because neither understands quite how to lose anyone else. They've both made the same choice, and that's not to let the other die alone.

It's about holding hands and loving and never letting go, even if it kills them.

... It's just about the most romantic and gorgeous thing I've ever fucking seen.

There are no more instances of masks, once they're done in this station. They don't need them any longer; they will never need them again.

And that's only emphasised by the parting shot we get of this... almost directly after Vanessa and Wade share a final sweet look.

I don't know, man. It's almost like the true conclusion is hidden behind the acceptable masquerade. Imagine that in the MCU, folks.

They've taken one of the most intimate and sweet moments in screen history, and made even more glorious.

They did The Wrath of Khan better than The Wrath of Khan did it.

And that's... that's gay. That's just about the gayest thing they could ever have done, and I adore it to the smallest pieces.

So remember, the next time your friends disbelieve you... show 'em this. Show them that they redid the very beginnings of slash fandom, and did it better.

(And then you can add on that they now live in a one-bed with their grandma, daughter and dog, and will do for the rest of their lives. Kirk and Spock didn't even get THAT shit.)

[sunderwight]

Much as I love the idea of PIDW being rife with terrible porn tropes and interesting (if contrived) erotic writing conventions, all actual evidence in canon would seem to indicate that apart from some sex pollen and "uh oh, the protagonist has gone into a fugue state, whatever shall calm him down?" type stuff, it was fairly vanilla.

Like, that's part of both Shen Yuan and Airplane's frustration with it, I think. It's full of sex and it's not even sex either of them enjoy the concept of. Airplane was fully just trying to pander to an audience he felt he knew and could manipulate, but not one either he nor his ultra mega hate reader were actually part of.

Not that they understood that themselves at the time.

I mean I know fandom likes to make Airplane less closeted than Shen Yuan (for a lot of reasons), which I support, but I feel like in canon at least... he didn't cotton on to Luo Binghe's change in interests at first either. It wasn't until he was watching his protagonist obsess over resurrecting Shen Qingqiu at any cost that the light started to dawn. For Shang Qinghua, also, many more years have passed since he was back in their original world. He's had more time to reconcile himself to certain ideas.

What glimpses we get of the person he was before he died, was reborn, and lived a whole other life well into adulthood, would seem to indicate that he probably wasn't much better than Shen Yuan back when he was writing.

I mean he probably was still BETTER (the bar is on the floor), like I bet he could have a fantasy featuring Mobei Jun without having an existential crisis or pretending it didn't happen, but he would have probably been like "wow I guess I've been writing so much m/f porn that I can't even enjoy it anymore and my brain had to come up with something else, anyway Mobei would make a hot chick tho, I'm gonna write one of his cousins as Binghe's next wife" and gotten on with things.

Basically I guess what I'm driving at is that it would be funny if SQQ and SQH figured they had a solid handle on the kinds of sex pollen-y porn tropes to expect from the world (mostly just the occasional fuck-or-die that missionary can cure), only for the rug to get ripped out from under them because the system incorporated a bunch of stuff from Airplane's subconscious to fill out the gaps. Not even his notes. His daydreams and fantasies.

SQQ: what the hell?! PIDW didn't even have werewolves or tentacle porn monsters!

SQH, suddenly reminded of some very specific fap sessions: right?! this is definitely weird and in no way my fault! it must be because of the genre switch!

SQQ: *suspicious*

SQH: which is your fault! you made the protagonist gay! in fact it's probably your fault that I'm gay too now!

SQQ: bullshit. what did you do. was this in a draft?!

SQH: *sweating* I can say with absolute confidence that it was not! I never wrote anything like this!

SQQ: *having a crisis now because maybe he DID accidentally cause the monsterfucker stuff and he desperately doesn't want anyone to realize that he's actually into it*

SQH: *continuing to sweat because the world is consistently manifesting content from his personal spank bank and if cucumber ever figures that out he's a dead man*

[dxncingwithastrxnger]

1. i'm sleeping with a ghoul (Ghost!Lucifer x MC)

A/N: Hello!! This is a few days late, but I said I wanted to do Obey Me month and I'm sticking to it, damn it! So I offer you my very first story for it, as well as the first thing I've published for the om fandom that isn't Barbatos. This was actually really fun to write and I wanna thank @the-ancient-fae for giving me the prompt of 'ghost' to help me figure something out!! That simple prompt has created a whole basket of ideas in my head, so thank you, Roxy 💜 But anyways, enjoy reading!!

Pairing(s): Lucifer x MC

Prompt: Day 1 - Lucifer from @obeymetournaments's list of prompts for this month!!

Summary: The tale of someone who encountered a... different kind of ghost.

Tag(s): 18+, themes of stalking, Spectrophilia/Phasmophilia, dubious consent, non-explicit, mentions of sexual content, first person pov

Word Count: 922

Song Inspiration: Sex With A Ghost By Teddy Hyde

Not beta'd, all mistakes are my own.

~*~

[Author Masterlist]

[Day 1] [Day 2] [Day 3] [Day 4] [Day 5] [Day 6] [Day 7] [Day 8] [Day 9] [Day 10] [Day 11] [Day 12] [Day 13] [Day 14] [Day 15] [Day 16] [Day 17] [Day 18] [Day 19] [Day 20] [Day 21] [Day 22] [Day 23] [Day 24] [Day 25] [Day 26] [Day 27] [Day 28] [Day 29] [Day 30] [Day 31]

~*~

Anyone who’s ever lived in a haunted house before will be familiar with the usual signs. Creaking floors, footsteps down the hallway, doors opening and closing on their own, whispers in other rooms. I, myself, am familiar with all of those, but those aren’t the things I’m experiencing in my current home. I hear less whispers and more longing sighs. I see shadows creeping around the corner. Sometimes the flap of wings. The click of formal shoes. I’ve recently started finding feathers in random places throughout the house. Long, black feathers. Bigger than any bird in my neighborhood.

I can feel whenever I’m being watched. The time I seem to be watched most is when I’m sleeping. Or at least laying in my bed at night. I can even see the outline of a figure if I look into the darkness for long enough and I swear the figure has horns and wings. Do you think it sees me, too?

~*~

The ghost. It’s a man. I know what he looks like now. He’s gotten bolder, closer. Or maybe I’ve just started paying more attention?

The places I find feathers have gotten more consistent. More specific. They’re only in parts of the houses I often frequent, like the kitchen and my own bedroom. And just the other day… I was in the bathroom, had just finished a shower. It was such a cliche. I wiped off the mirror and immediately I saw him, behind me. But unlike the movies, he didn’t flicker away as soon as I saw him. Instead, he stayed. He met my eyes. It was like he wanted me to see him. And so, I did. Soft, black, feathery hair with just the tiniest piece of his bangs turned gray. Deep, mysterious red and black eyes. Four black-feathered wings that are a glorious sight to behold, almost how one would imagine angel wings. But then my eyes catch on the large, black horns curving upwards from the top of his head. That’s when I’m reminded that he is certainly no angel.

Even so, he took my breath away. And he knew it. A look of pride upon his face before I blink and he’s finally gone. It took me a moment to recover after that. But it was not because I was terrified. Nor was I upset that he was intruding upon my home. All I felt in that moment was an intense curiosity, along with excitement at the thought of finding out more.

~*~

I’m starting to think something’s wrong with me. I can’t truly be thinking like this about a ghost, can I? But I can’t help it. He’s doing it on purpose. Seducing me. There’s no other way to describe it. I see him all the time now. He’s stopped trying to hide from me. He watches me openly now, during all hours of the day. I’ve started speaking to him. He’s there to listen, so I might as well, right? And sometimes he’ll answer. With gestures or the softest of whispers. But what’s more important is what happens at night.

Once I’ve shut off all the lights and settled beneath my blankets, that’s when I’ll feel it. Fingers brushing over my skin. Sometimes gloved, sometimes bare. First, it was just soft affection. Holding my cheek or tracing my hand. Then, he’d trace down my neck and over my calves. And now, he’s trailing down my chest and up my thighs with touches that can no longer be considered simple affection. No, these touches are filled with intent. And I know something’s fucked in my head because in response, I’ve started wearing less and less clothes to bed. He’s taking it as an invitation to continue and we both know that’s exactly what it is. Even before it’s bedtime, I’m already anticipating the feel of his fingers and the pleasure his touch brings.

I think he’s waiting to take a step further because he enjoys seeing me touch myself. He gets this smirk on his face as his low chuckle fills my ear and it only adds to my overloaded senses, driving me over the edge. Sometimes during the day, I’m unable to help myself when I think too much about it. When that happens, I always make sure to be loud enough so that he’ll know exactly what I’m doing.

Even now, questioning my own mind, I can’t find a single ounce of hesitation towards any of it.

~*~

Lucifer. Lucifer. Lucifer. That is my lover’s name. He finally told me when he gave himself to me completely. I got to see him in all his glory, laid bare and without any clothing in the way. Just as he saw me the same way. And not only did he touch me without holding back, but I got to touch him as well. We were finally joined as one and that’s when I knew for certain - this is love. It must be. There’s no other emotion I could use to describe how I feel for him. And I know he loves me, too. He told me so. Told me that even when he was alive he never loved another the way he loves me.

We’ll be together forever, him and I. He’s in my bed every night and right beside me throughout the day. He takes me whenever he feels like it and I would never dream of rejecting him. All of me belongs to him now, mind, body, and soul, and I don’t want it any other way.

~*~

A/N: Please, let me know your thoughts!! Thank you for reading!!! 💜💜💜

[olderthannetfic]

I know the response to this will be "WRITE FOR YOURSELF!!!1!" but when I look at things I worked really hard to write that have zero comments and the things I threw out there on a whim that actually appear to have made people happy, I feel so much less motivated to write the former. I know I'm supposed to be "doing it for myself" but I don't know what that means. It feels like those 90's movies saying "be yourself" or my therapist saying "be authentic". It's a nice enough sounding thing, but what does it mean? Does it mean writing in obscurity is more pure or more artsy? Is it supposed to be more moral and demonstrate integrity?

There's an agreement in fandom that writing for others is bad. It's impure. It's selfish. But no one has really ever explained why. Nor am I getting much out of writing a story that means a lot to me and getting dead silence in response. I like entertaining others and making them smile.

I can practically feel the, "uh, back in my day fic was hosted on a server and we didn't see hit counts let alone get comments and we were happy with it because we weren't whiny and in need of validation like Gen Z!!!1!" people gearing up to yell in the replies that they're good writers who don't care about comments. That's great for them, and I mean that sincerely. But equally sincerely, how are you supposed to maintain passion for something no one else is interested in? I've been told it's better to get validation via hit counts or bookmarks but numbers don't really do anything for me. Someone saying, "I loved this! Can't wait to see what happens next." can make not just my day but my week.

I know what people say. Fandom isn't a popularity context. It's not social media. You're not supposed to like talking to people about fandom things. But... I do. And the utter silence that is modern fandom - of the 100 last published fics in my fandom, only 10 have comments, and only 4 have regular commenters - is just really not fun to me.

--

Yes, lots of people do think it ~demonstrates integrity~. People who never finish anything.

People who actually succeed at making art will say superficially similar things, but what they mean is "If you write things you aren't actually interested in, you will either burn out or the art won't actually be satisfying to the audience or both".

--

The thing about back in the day is that we only got comments. You're dead wrong about that part. Yes, people whined that there wasn't enough feedback, and they will continue to whine about this until the end of time, but your description misses the most important part about the rose-colored glasses and what people are trying to explain about the past in most of those posts:

We couldn't see the lurkers (hit counts) but we did see some actual interactions. This allowed us to imagine that the comment rate was way higher than it actually was and to see fandom as a close-knit community (which was maybe somewhat more accurate than now but never as true as people believed).

--

You have fundamentally misunderstood what the (saner) posts about this are saying.

You shouldn't care about overall numbers. You should care about meaningful social interactions. Obviously, people like connecting with others via art.

Fandom is not a popularity contest. That's why you should enjoy talking to actual peers about things. Genuine connection is not about being a celebrity with fans: it's about making friends.

--

Some fandoms do have interactions. Maybe if you start interacting with others' works, that will help. Maybe you need a different fandom. "Modern fandom" isn't this total wasteland with no interaction, nor do most people find a total lack of it fun.

[riinkun-art-stuff]

Howdy ho! I'm very excited to finally be able to share this illustration I worked on as part of this year's @bumblebybigbang for @tahnex's lovely and super fun fic (with no pain attached whatsoever), "Of Dragons and Panthers," which you can read here! As soon as I read the original notes on it this scene captured me so much I had to do something dramatic for it. It's been such a pleasure watching the whole collab come together, tysm for having me!

First time joining an event like this, and I'd love to again if the opportunity comes around hehe. Still a few postings to go on this one, the pieces before us this year have knocked it out of the park and I'm super excited to see the rest once they come around!

Made a few process cuts just for fun, which I left under the cut!

I did do a few sketches roughly before I started out, especially based on other parts of the chapter, but this particular composition was so fixed in my mind that I ended up just sticking with it. In retrospect, I would've loved to go back and do some more thorough exploration for it. Here are a few of the sketches I managed to fish back up:

I also was thinking of trying a few other doodles/another big piece, but ended up not really having the time between other obligations :')

And the sketch I finally settled on:

Inking was SUCH a fun process on this piece in particular. I'm a huge fan of how dragon!Yang's mane turned out, especially, and all the detailing on the head and around Blake's fur and such. Feel like I'm really satisfied w the particular way the line weight variations came out, and it's where the piece shines the most imo.

Panther!Blake, too. Oh gosh. I feel like it took me a lot of reworking to get her structure to a point where she felt very leopard-like, rather than any other type of big cat- especially around the head.

Colours were such a challenging part. There was a big feeling I had for that glow coming off dragon!Yang in the middle of the heavy rain- I love seeing that sort of effect in real life so that's something I'm really hoping to work to capture better as I practice. Trying to get dragon!Yang's slight iridescence in there and to balance out the lighting on panther!Blake's fur each took a long time, too- I'm only a pinch sad that a good chunk of it is covered by other lighting effects XD

Blake's rosettes were SO fun. Augguhugg.

In terms of backgrounds. HOO boy I was going through a strange patch in life while working on the background and final polish for this piece, which is why (at least I feel like) it looks kinda rushed. I have been practicing natural landscapes and doing some observational studies but still struggling to get those rock shapes quite right, which I think is a big make or break point of something like this. I did really enjoy toying around with inking on the foliage and foreground layers of the ground, though! And in the end, lighting and effects ended up masking a lot of the big weak spots :D

I think natural effects like smoke/steam, and rain, are big things that I got to practice more of in this piece, but also really would like to get better at in future. Esp since I feel like it's been a great opportunity to mess around with different colours and brushes that I use way less, which I'm always grateful for w painting. I think just layering the rain on its own ended up being about 10 odd layers?

I think the only other thing I would have loved to improve is to just help the piece feel more Bumbleby™ in the final look. I think I like the cool colours of the lighting for this particular outcome, but I also would have probably tried to have made things much clearer (ahem at the very least switch to yellow/purple) in the long run in terms of representation and resemblance. Ik that at least for me it is fairly easy to associate the two characters with dragons and panthers since I'm more familiar w the fandom lingo around these two, but esp for outsiders I feel like it's probably not great at conveying who they are, and why they are potentially in this situation.

I'd also love to try and find a shading style that still has a painterly quality but compliments the inking a bit better, rather than overpowering it.

I think that, on the whole, I am pretty satisfied with the piece and had a great time working with Tahnex on the whole collab! And I've also has a fun time reading his work and notes in return, and thank you so much for being so so patient with me even as my updates were slow n rocky at points :'D

That's about all I got, have a great day y'all! Still a few big bang postings to go, so very excited for those once they come around!

[itsclydebitches]

Don't mind me, everyone, just gonna slip on my Tedependent conspiracy hat for a bit...

Okay, for real though, can we talk about how Trent's backstory in 3x06 completely re-contextualizes his dinner with Ted in 1x03? Based on my own interpretation, the implied timeline is that Trent was married to a woman, attempted to come out to her and was dismissed (perhaps in large part because they were married: what do you mean you're gay? You can't be. You love me, etc.), either having his daughter forced Trent to become more honest about what he and his family needed, or they had her in an attempt to "fix" the marriage, she gets caught in the crossfire of all this, Trent comes out again, this time his wife believes him, they divorce, are still good friends, and their daughter is happier than ever because she has two loving parents who are now living their best lives.

Given her age - 3 at the start of the series, about 6 now - that means there's a decent possibility that Trent was still married at the beginning of the show.

And that his dinner with Ted is one of the things that pushed him to try coming out again.

As his core Ted is someone who is authentic and that authenticity is what catches Trent's interest. He's dismissive of it at first, literally thinking it's a "fucking joke," only to later end up with the revelation, "You really mean that, don't you?" - that Ted honestly enjoyed spending time with him. AKA, Ted says and does what he means, even when it seems completely unbelievable. How freeing must that be to see? I'm just imagining this interview-turned-dinner through the eyes of a man who is still unhappily married, mostly closeted, and struggling to help his daughter through the stress of that dynamic. Then he meets this sunshine of a coach who is so authentically himself that it initially comes across as an act, an exaggeration, a joke. But Ted never wavers, simply refuses to be anything other than himself. Soon he's doing even more than that, breaking down gender norms by characterizing the masculine, aggressive Roy Kent as the "little girl" from A Wrinkle in Time, burdened with the responsibility of leadership. He turns what should have been the end of a horrific day of shadowing into a dinner date and Trent finds himself answering the hard-hitting questions instead of his interviewee. Ted brushes off his accusation of greed with, "Wait, I'm supposed to be getting paid?" but Trent is completely caught off guard by Ted's "What do you love?"

The textual answer is "writing" and the fun fandom answer is "you," but if this is a Trent who still hasn't fully come out yet that's! A hell! Of a question!!! A closeted, queer individual's mind is going to jump to their biggest secret and, when offered an out, they're going grasp at it, so Trent eagerly agrees with Ted's guess of "writing" the same way Colin eagerly pulls the 'This is a gay bar? Haha, my mistake' card and makes a run for the door. Reading this interaction as Trent not just being gay, but potentially being closeted and unhappily married makes it less about the journalism (this strange coach likes me and thinks I can be a good person despite my invasive career choice) and more about his sexuality. Oh, no big deal, just having an intimate dinner with another good-looking man who's questioning me on love of all things and slowly inspiring me to be the best version of myself, which would require coming out to my wife again. This is a totally normal and not at all life-changing night! I definitely don't need to run away now!!

Via this reading Trent's article feels so loaded. Ted is "out there in the community" either "bravely or stupidly facing the music." That sounds a hell of a lot like a parallel to literally coming out and facing the music of a community's potential rejection, with Ted's American background/inexperience/unique personality acting as a stand-in for sexuality; the reasons he's labeled a "wanker" before anyone actually gets to know him - as the pub trio does while those very words are narrated by Higgins.

And then we have this:

"If the Lasso way is wrong, it's hard to imagine being right.... and though I believe that Ted Lasso will fail here... I can't help but root for him."

There are other elements at play here, like the football's celebration of ego and the threat of the club being relegated, but underneath it really sounds like a still-cynical Trent wanting to see the kind of changed world that those like Ted could bring about, but not really believing that it's possible. Given his history, is he really just talking about football when it comes to "the Lasso way"? I doubt it. Trent is potentially feeling trapped at this point in time, pessimistic to the point where yes, he still thinks that Ted will fail at football and creating a more inclusive, accepting community... but even still, Trent can't help but root for him. Of course he can't. He wants what Ted is offering. He needs it.

But then, of course, Ted succeeds! Not just in doing well by the club, but by the community as a whole. He maintains that inspiration and hope until, potentially, Trent felt like he could do something about his own situation. He found the nerve and strength to try again. So he comes out to his wife, they divorce, their daughter is happy, he goes on a date with a mustached man at the local pub, ditches him to try and 'interview' Ted, blows up his career because he realizes that his job is undermining the very thing he's been rooting for and he can't not give Ted a heads up, begins shadowing Ted as he looks for something "deeper," and then comes out to Colin, gazing wistfully across the water as he imagines being able to kiss a man after a win...

I'm not saying Ted Lasso is going to go there - and I'm DEFINITELY not saying there should be ANY accusations of queer baiting if/when they don't, because we've absolutely built the majority of this ship in fandom spaces - but I AM saying that if Trent's potential intersection of his history with Ted's influence and Ted's desire to shake things up while imagining bisexual triangles actually led to something... it would be a damn well done setup!

[shapelytimber]

Look, social media aus are very dumb but fun to do fklxkdk Illya would make short videos (mostly) about fashion, and Napoleon would be very unsubtle about being a Spy

I am formally apologizing to the uncle fandom for tiktoker Illya Kuryakin, I have no regrets (also @quijicroix is part responsible, being my evil advisor)

Here are the posts in details, and the profile pics :)

[COMMISSIONS]

No process this time, just me yapping for way to long about every choice and refs that went into this dumb au below vvv

Illya is younger than Napoleon (I usualy headcanon him at around 25 and Napoleon 35ish), so I think their use of social media would be quite different : hence Illya on Tiktok and Napoleon on Instagram. Also it's not the 60s so Illya can be like 10% less reppressed :)) but as a debuff Napoleon now has the technology to call him a nerd

Illya's page started as a cover for some affair, but he ended up kinda enjoying doing it in his free time. It's like a hobby for him, a way to experiment with fashion ! It's what made him want to pursue fashion design as a career after his curent spy job. And also I think he gets more and more nervous the more followers he gets, because as a spy having a chance to get recognise in the street is really bad dkdldlos Napoleon teases him endlessly that he became a tiktoker (as he should)-

Did I, at one point in the project, had to scrap the thirst trap idea to keep the fashion nerd vibes ? Yes I did, but just know he uses the "twink" tag :)

• The first post is a ref to the discotheque affair, not the best episode and a great miss for not including a disco Illya outfit, so I made him one to match the other :D

• The second is to the Hot number, but he gets to wear the thrush pattern !

• The third one is what made me do all of this ! Because, if you're not french, you might not know about one of my favorite yearly twitter threads : Met Gala outfits as INSEE graphs by Clara Dealberto ! Don't care about the met gala, but this is very funny :) and such a Illya Kuryakin thing to do kdkdkd

• fourth one isn't fashion related, it's a ref to popart and the "he has Dostoïevski eyes" line that made us laught a lot

• A little Fiddlesticks for the dog post, because it's a banger episode. Plus a nod to he dog expert from it, with whom Illya had palpable sexual tension fkfkfkl I like to think they kept contact ;) (shoutout to this fic (Intensity by AconitumNapellus) who absolutely get the vision, 10/10 guy to "cheat" on your boyfriend with)

• and the final one is a make over because of course it is

As for Napoleon, being older and less invested in this, an instagram made sense. But crutialy, I get such strong modern oss117 vibes from Napoleon (the way he shoots his gun, the goofy faces, the awkward stance everytime he enters a place, the inexplicable in universe rizz...) dkfkldls modern oss117 was a parody of both 60s james bond and older oss117 movies, but I'm now convinced they also whatched some uncle while doing these, it's just so obvious- anyway all this to say, in the second movie oss117 has to pose as a photographer and gets way too invested in his cover (it's his thing don't question it), and at the end of the movie we get to see all the photography he took during his mission..... Let me tell you how hard it was to resist him having an instagram full of blurry women on the street (canon 60s napoleon would have done it I'm sorry)- but what I kept was the pretty "badly" shot pics of random things, tho you sometimes get the odd decent pic taken by Illya. And he gets to be in a duck floatie as a treat and nod to oss <3

• Pinned post is because it became frustrating for him having to respond to people asking him if it was his real name or if he was a far right french man simping for Bonaparte

• first post is not a ref, but if my very sexy flat car was burning in the desert I would take a pic (ft Illya despairing) kdkdkd

• Duck floatie is a oss117 ref

• selfie with a beautiful woman (ft his finger), no ref I just love drawing women

• also Fiddlesticks for the cute Napoleon fox !! And to kinda link the two profiles :)

• and finaly Spy with my face ! He tried taking a picture of his date (I'll let you decide who it was), but oops front facing camera kdkdkdk

Can you tell I had a lot of fun doing this ? I love this show way to much omfg

PS : if you've never seen the recent oss117 movies, you should they funny ! But oh god some jokes are terrible- the first one is the best, minus one gay joke frankly not great. They nail the gay joke in the second one but oh god... They do not always win the 'is our character a piece of shit or is the movie problematic' gamble so be aware of that. And the 3rd one is shit don't bother

PPS : I don't use Tiktok, I tried my best to emulate the feeling of it but be aware I have no idea what I'm doing dkkdld

[smehur]

Some Harry/Draco Fic Recs

There is so much great fic in this fandom, I'm struggling to keep track of everything I read and like. I already mentioned some of my early favorites here, but I have since found several more.

In no particular order:

Hermione Granger's Hogwarts Crammer for Delinquents on the Run by waspabi

In which Harry did not go to Hogwarts, but is instead found by a group of seventh year students led by Hermione, and recruited for the war at the ripe age of 17.

I'm not usually a fan of AUs, but this charmed me within the first few paragraphs with irresistible characterization. Harry is a little different than how I imagine him, but the premise allows for it. And the Harry/Draco romance is possibly the sweetest, softest I've seen so far. 10/10 would read again.

In Pieces by dysonrules

Harry returns to Hogwarts as the new DADA instructor, only to find his teaching efforts thwarted by a very familiar ghost.

When I got this rec myself, I wasn't sure I would like it, because, well, the summary spells it out, doesn't it? But I ended up loving it. It's incredibly sweet and tender and sad and hot. I couldn't put it down.

An Emerald In The Sky by corvuscrowned

The hardest part about shagging an Unspeakable is that they’re not allowed to speak of anything. All Draco knows is that Harry works in Time. Harry works in Time, and while he’s out there in all of that time, it is as unforgiving to him as it is to anyone. Somewhere along the way, Draco realizes he's been thinking in lines, when he should have been thinking in circles.

This story moved me like few others. It's a masterpiece of 'show, don't tell' in that elusive way I have never been able to tap in my own writing. It speaks in images, and the images capture incredibly specific, perfectly chosen details that paint years and decades of slowly fading hope. Just the thing for one who considers their own aging and mortality increasingly often.

Take You Home by lq_traintracks (lumosed_quill)

Everybody’s a little fucked up after the war, Draco especially. What starts as hate sex after a night out, eventually turns into something else, something more like comfort. And even though his friends all tell Harry he’s just being used, all Harry’s doing is making sure Draco gets home in one piece. He’s not falling helplessly in love.

From the author of one of my early favorites (Right Hand Red), a hugely enjoyable read that makes love to a post-war Draco (and his long hair in a man-bun that he fastens with his wand). I gulped this down in one sitting.

Hey, Potter by SunseticMonster

Harry returns to Hogwarts for his 8th year, determined not to let Malfoy get to him. But when the snarky teasing starts up again, Harry finds that returning the jibes with compliments has a far more interesting outcome.

I am in love with this premise. It works so well? While I wished for a bit more shipping and a bit less collateral, I still enjoyed this story immensely and went on to read almost everything the author wrote for the pairing.

An Issue of Consequence by Faith Wood

Draco has woken up in an alternate universe. Or he has woken up utterly insane. Nothing else can possibly explain why Harry Potter suddenly seems to think he's Draco's boyfriend.

The light-hearted summary belies the gravity of the plot of yet another favorite tale from the pen of my favorite author. The POV immersion is so deep that I absolutely did not see the resolution of the mystery until it was revealed, and then I was just as shocked as Draco. Fabulous stuff.

A Doll's Tale by Faith Wood

Harry/Draco, as observed by Draco's childhood doll. Please note, this doll is very self-absorbed.

This... broke me a little, lol. Don't get me wrong, there's nothing (too) heavy, angsty or dark about this story. It's as innocent as they get? But it just clicked so well with the idea I've been brewing in my own (yet to be published) writings, of Draco as this... sensitive boy hiding under the guise of confidence and cruelty. And the plot-twist, Merlin. Was it obvious? Maybe, but not to me! It struck me like a (fluffy toy) train and days later, I'm still recovering. I want to take this fic and hug it when I go to sleep.

Actually, I'm in a bit of a pickle, as my instinct is to list pretty much every single thing written by Faith Wood that I've read so far. But that would be silly, so I'll list only one more, as a treat.

Beholden by Faith Wood

Draco Malfoy might not be a killer, but it turns out he's an effective painkiller. If stopping pain was all Draco's touch did, things might not be so complicated, but either way Harry can't afford to be choosy.

I already mentioned this one in that inaugural post I linked at the very top, but: 1) it's now completed and can be safely binged on; and 2) the only thing I said about it back then is that it deals with chronic pain, which was particularly relevant at the time because I was at the peak of sciatica and could relate to poor Harry all too well. But that's just one of the many merits of this incredible story. Now that I'm feeling better, I'd praise it first and foremost for the patient exploration of the characters' inner worlds and the gradual, methodical and inexorable buildup of their feelings and convictions that eventually leads to falling in love. A masterpiece of slow burn. I plan not only to read this again, but to study it in the hopes of improving my own craft.

Tagging the authors I found on here: @dysonrules @faith2wood @corvuscrowned @lqtraintracks and also my friend @kuraiummei who helped me find some of these gems.

Thank you for enriching my life. ❤️

[thisgameissonintendo]

some thoughts...

at this point this seems like the usual 'hey, a show that has my whole heart got canceled' -post because it keeps haunting me every year but i have some words on dead boy detectives.

when the trailer was posted my first thought was 'hmmm, i don't really know about this. i'm still sad and upset about lockwood. but i gotta say this looks interesting'. months passed, dbd aired. and i LOVED it from the very first second. loved it more than any other show i've ever seen before. it was fun, it was lovely, everything made sense, no plot holes, interesting characters, long episodes, action, romance, it had everything. i could go on about how much i love this show for hours but if you know me, you know how much i love it and the cast + crew. they deserve all the praise in the world and all they wish for. they created a home for so many of us. true heroes.

dbd introduced me to the most amazing people in the world. i started talking to someone who i've known for some time but dbd was the reason we connected. i guess it was that last bit of tv magic that brought us together.

i don't really enjoy tv shows all that much (movies even less), so a show has to be good for me to give it a chance. it took me 0.01 seconds to know dead boy detectives was the show for me. it sparked my creativity, i had (and still have!) so many ideas. it made me happy. truly happy. whenever i think about the show or all the people i was introduced to because of it i get emotional. it means so much to me and it's like my little escape from reality. a dream really. a dream that's not ending because a certain network decided it was a good idea to cancel one of it's best shows. after 8 episodes. 1 season. again.

i'm really grateful and i don't know what i did to be welcomed in this fandom. i love everyone here and i hope we'll continue to be a little family. you may not know me or just see me as someone who posts content but just know that i'm thankful you crossed my path somehow. thank you for making me happy and being a little part of my life 🫂 and remember - we're all just a mirror away 🫶

[nicoline1998enilocin]

Hi Nicoline😌❤️ I wonder if your any fandom fluff is open to requests?👀

If so, I want to ask for a neighbor(or roommate) Steve and reader. Maybe they had a small fight over something (something like Steve's date screamed too loud when he brought her home?) and neither of them apologized to the other.

reader: "you listen to me-"

Steve: "NO YOU LISTEN TO ME. I'm done with your attitude and your bullshit. I fuck whoever I please whenever I please. It's not like you haven't made any noise when you're fucking yourself over some toy. So zip it up because you are not any better"

And the next thing you know, you are competing who can make the other one moan louder and you end up fucking👀🤭

Listen

PAIRING | Steve Rogers x Avenger!Fem!Reader

WORD COUNT | 3.4K

SUMMARY | Working together with your ex is already difficult enough, but the fact that you're sleeping in the bedroom next to him isn't much better. Since the two of you have broken up, Steve has brought home many women, and you are starting to lose sleep because they keep making too much noise. When you try to get Steve to stop, the conversation takes an unexpected turn, and you end up in his bed again.

RATING | Explicit (E)

WARNINGS/TAGS | Natasha being a good friend, Steve is an asshole in this

ANGST | Swearing, lots of fighting between Steve and Reader

SMUT | Exes hooking up, hate/revenge sex, dirty talk, heavy degradation, daddy kink, nipple play, hair pulling, spanking, choking, Steve has no refractory period, oral (M receiving), face/throat fucking, deepthroating, facial/cumming on face, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!), belly bulge, squirting, implied aftercare.

A/N | @jamneuromain I cannot thank you enough for the amazing request for this square! This is my first time writing a fic like this, but it was a lot of fun, and I look forward to doing it again. I want to thank @late-to-the-party-81 for beta-reading this story; without your help, it wouldn't have gotten to what it is now. I hope you will all enjoy it as much as I did when writing this! 💚

EVENTS Masterlist | @anyfandomfluffbingo | I3: "No, you listen to me." Masterlist | @fandom-free-bingo | B5: Exes Hook Up Masterlist | @sweetspicybingo Sweethearts | My Bed Now

Banners: Yours truly | Divider: @firefly-graphics | GIF: Source

Main Masterlist | Steve Rogers Masterlist

Lately, you've been losing more sleep than you can afford, especially with the number of missions you've been going on. Every night, Steve has a different woman over, which is fine in and of itself if it weren't for the fact that they are never quiet. It's like he wants to rub it in your face that he is getting laid on the regular, and you're making good use of your trusty vibrator.

You have always been warned about getting together with colleagues, but when you met Steve, he was a gentleman, taking care of everything you could desire until the flame between you fizzled out. The moment you two parted ways was sad for you both, but it was clear then that your relationship had run its course.

However, tonight has been especially brutal on you, and you even tried wearing earplugs to bed without success. Their combined moans and groans, the spanking and her screaming carried through everything, and you ended up with less than three hours of sleep. You managed to drag yourself out of bed and into the kitchen, but as soon as you saw Steve all lovey-dovey with his latest 'prize,' a stone dropped into your stomach, and you suddenly weren't hungry anymore.

Bucky, Tony, Sam, and Natasha were all eating their breakfast in peace, but as soon as Nat saw the look on your face, she picked up her food, ready to lead you out of the room.

"C'mon, let's go somewhere else," she says before hooking your arm through hers and leading you to her bedroom. Tears start gathering in the corners of your eyes as you reach it; however, they're not because of jealousy but because of pure anger.

"Jesus, does he have to rub it in our faces like that?! It's fucking unbelievable that he’s moved on within the blink of an eye; it's disgusting, actually," you tell Natasha as you're pacing in her room.

"You do realize he never moved on, right?" she asks, and you stop in your tracks before looking at her with narrow eyes.

"What do you mean? He has a new girl over there every day," you tell her, but she shakes her head.

"It's just his way of hiding his pain. He feels like he's made a huge mistake by leaving you. I know your relationship didn't work anymore, but he feels he could have - should have - done more. Bucky told me about it a few weeks ago," and with those words, you let yourself sink onto the couch, wondering what could have been.

"You know, I honestly couldn't care less about the fact that he's fucking everything that moves, but they don't have to rub it in my face like that; it's starting to get to me that they're so loud, I barely sleep anymore because of them... It's like he forgets that not everyone is a super soldier like him."

Natasha looks at you with understanding, and she puts her plate to the side before standing up and grabbing your hand, guiding you to her bed.

"Why don't you sleep here for a while? I'll cover for you with Tony, and you can take the day off today to recover a bit," she tells you, and you happily agree. As soon as your head hits the pillow, you're asleep, and Nat goes to have an important talk with Steve.

"You, out of here. I need to speak with Steve," she says with a pointed tone to his latest conquest as she returns to the kitchen, and she looks offended at the redhead in front of her. With a raised brow, Nat silently threatens her, not needing to say a single word before the other woman scrambles away without saying anything.

"Was that really necessary, Nat?" Steve asks curtly, clearly unhappy with her rudeness. However, she isn't fazed and instead cuts straight to the point, not worrying about who else can hear.

"Why are you fucking everything with a pulse?" she asks, and Bucky almost chokes on his breakfast as he hears it. Sam and Tony go wide-eyed at her question and are suddenly very interested in each other, not wanting to be on the receiving end of Natasha's words right now.

"Since when is that any of your business, Romanoff?"

"It wasn't until I almost got killed during our last mission because of it. Y/N is barely sleeping because of you and your ''ladies'', and we're risking our lives out there because of you!" she spits out at him, and for a second, Steve's heart hurts at the mention of your name. However, the feeling is gone almost as soon as it comes up.

''It's not my fault she can't sleep; I'm just having fun, and what I do in my spare time shouldn't matter to anyone. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some important business to tend to," Steve says as he gets up, but Natasha is not letting him go anywhere as she grabs his arm, squeezing her long nails into his bicep.

"Just talk to her, for Christ's sake; that's all I'm asking! And keep it down during the night; she's not the only one losing sleep over the dying cats you seem to find every night," Natasha tells him, and with that, he rips his arm away, stomping out of the living room and heading to the gym, needing to let his frustrations out.

Things have improved in the first few days after Natasha talked to Steve. Even though he has brought some more women back (because 'every woman wants a chance with Captain America' as Steve says it), he has managed to keep it down, and you have gotten a solid six to seven hours of sleep, which instantly brightens your mood. It's not where you want it to be, but it's better than nearly no sleep.

"Mornin' everyone!" you say happily as you walk into the kitchen again, but your mood instantly sinks when you find Steve standing at the counter, his latest conquest sitting upon it with her arms wrapped around his neck as they make out.

"Can't you two get a room or something? Not everyone wants to see this in the morning," you tell Steve, the venom dripping from your voice. He promptly pulls away before turning to you, leaving the girl you couldn't care less about alone.

"What the fuck is your problem, Y/L/N? As far as I know, you ended things between us because you didn't feel anything for me. And now you suddenly care about every single thing I do? Seems a bit odd if you ask me," Steve scoffs, and you're starting to see red at the edges of your vision.

"You're such an ass, you know that?! You act perfect and gentleman-like, but nothing could be further from the truth. You couldn't care any fucking less about anything or anyone around you, and you're a disgusting piece of crap. Sleeping with everything that moves every single night, moaning the wrong name during sex almost every night? I'm not deaf, you know," you throw back in his face. The response he gives, however, has your blood boiling.

"Really? You never heard me complain when you moaned Bucky when we had sex!" he tells you, which makes you lose every last bit of control. As soon as Bucky hears his name, he turns a deep shade of red, not wanting to be involved in whatever is happening between you.

"You're so... ugh! I fucking hate you, Rogers!" you scream in his face before turning around and running away, not wanting to be near him any longer. Tears are streaming down your face, and Natasha is running after you, feeling horrible for everything that has just gone down. It's not like he didn't deserve it, but it was still a low blow for him to expose something so private.

"Hey, let's just breathe for a bit, okay? I know he hurt you, but if we calm you down, you won't go down that same spiral again, alright?" Nat says as she pulls you into her arms. You and Steve rarely fight, but when it does happen, you tend to go down a problematic spiral. Natasha desperately wants that not to happen again - she doesn’t want to lose you.

"It's okay, Detka, I'm here with you; just let it all out," she reassures and calms you. The sobs wreaking havoc on your body are heart-wrenching, and the screams are cutting right through everything, but it's precisely what you need right now. After what seems like forever, you calm down, though you're tired beyond belief. It has drained every last bit of energy from you, so you can barely stand on your legs.

"Here, let's get you on the bed, okay? I'm not going anywhere; I'll be here the entire time," Natasha tells you as she sits against your bed's headboard, and you crawl under the covers. You rest your head in her lap, and her long fingers rake through your hair, and soon, you're lulled into a deep, dreamless sleep.

Steve has been gone for an extended undercover mission, meaning you’ve finally gotten some proper sleep, and the few weeks he’s been gone have been nothing short of heaven. You did expect him to bring another woman along when he returned, but he didn't, much to your surprise.

That morning, you both come out of your bedrooms simultaneously. You are dressed in a sports outfit, ready for the gym, and Steve is only wearing a pair of tight sweatpants that show off how his muscles bulge in the most delicious manner. It's almost as if he’s doing it on purpose.

"Can we talk?" Steve asks you, and even though you're not in the mood, you give in anyway.

"Sure," you sigh before turning around and heading to Steve's room. You're secretly hoping he will apologize, although you also know that's not at all likely to happen. When you're in his room, the door slams shut behind you, and you're all alone with him. Everything inside looks so familiar, yet so strange at the same time. Some things were items you’d picked out for him, and others were new,  added after you broke up.

"Steve, I need you to listen to me-"

"No, you listen to me! I'm done with your attitude and your bullshit, Y/N. I fuck whoever I please, whenever I please! It's not like you haven't made any noise when you're fucking yourself over some lousy toy! So zip it up because you're not any better," Steve tells you as he's pointing his finger in your face.

What you do next is something you never would have expected in a million years. Your hand reaches out for his as you pull him closer, your lips crashing together in a bruising kiss that leaves you both breathless. All the pent-up anger and resentment is finally coming out, though not in the way you had thought. 

Steve's hands quickly move to the zipper of your sports bra, revealing your breasts and perked nipples to the room as the fabric falls away, his large hands enveloping them with kneading motions, making you moan into his mouth.

"God, listen to you, already moaning like a pathetic slut for me, and I haven't even touched you properly yet," Steve tells you, but all you know is how good he can make you feel with just his hands. The way he tugs and squeezes your nipples between rolling them has you moaning loudly and arousal flooding your panties. In this moment, all of the hurt between you disappears, and you become the woman who used to welcome him into your bed gladly.

"Y-yes!" you whine, your brows knitted together and your mouth slack.

"What are you?"

"A-a pathetic s-slut! Just for you, Daddy, 'm y-your p-pathetic slut," you tell him, and you feel his cock jump against your thigh as you call him Daddy, a name reserved solely for him. You don’t know why you called him that the first time you were together, but both of you quickly discovered that you liked it, and it became a staple part of your dynamic until the end. His sweatpants are straining against his cock, and before you can think about what's happening, he pushes you down on your knees and lowers his sweatpants.

"Suck my dick, you slut; it's the only fucking thing your mouth is good for anyways," he says as he grabs your head, your mouth already opening on instinct. The feeling of his cock on your tongue is instantly calming, and your lips wrap around him immediately, sucking him down without him needing to say anything else.

"That's it, put that mouth of yours to some good use for Daddy," he groans before he slowly starts to fuck your mouth, sliding deeper and deeper into your throat until you can feel his balls slapping against your chin and his pubic bone makes contact with your nose.

Loud moans escape from his chest, and you can't help but feel proud at the way you're making him feel, that it's you pulling these sounds from him.

Steve grabs a tighter hold of your head, tears gathering in the corners of your eyes as he sets an almost brutal pace, fucking your throat in earnest, only concerned with chasing his high. Your thighs are clenching to give yourself some relief, and your nails are digging deeply into his thighs to the point of almost drawing blood, but Steve doesn't care.

"That's it, take it! Doing so good for Daddy," he praises you, and you can't help but feel a little warmth bloom inside you. The tears you had are now streaming down your face in a rapid motion, but all you can do is breathe through your nose as Steve keeps up his pace, his orgasm building quickly.

"Almost there; are you going to let Daddy cum all over this face of yours? Will you be a perfect little cumslut and let Daddy cum all over your face?" he asks as he pulls out of your mouth, leaving you feeling empty. Despite this, you nod in response as you open your mouth and stick out your tongue.

"Such an obedient slut for me today," he praises, and you preen under his words. His fist wraps around his cock before jerking it quickly, the ragged breaths and groans coming from him increasing with every move until the first drops of his cum squirt out, landing on your tongue. His orgasm seems to be never-ending, more and more of his cum shooting all over your face, making a mess that only serves to arouse you further.

"Look at you, such a dirty fucking slut, but you love that, don't you? To be used as Daddy's cumdump? Yeah, you do,'' Steve says with a wicked grin, and he scoops some of his cum from your cheek before shoving his fingers in your mouth, and you lick them clean for him.

"My bed, now," he orders, and you scramble up; despite the soreness in your knees, you manage to get there relatively quickly.

"Take off your pants, and get on your hands and knees," he says, and you do as he asks, the fabric quickly discarded before you present yourself before him. You know he’s looking at your pussy, able to see how wet you are for him

"Look at you, all ready to take Daddy's fat cock! That's all you've wanted, right? To be railed by my fat cock inside your pussy? Bet you only think about me when you're with someone else or when you're fucking yourself on that pathetic toy of yours," Steve spits out, the degradation only making you hornier.

"Y-yes Daddy! Need your cock," you tell him, and he takes his place behind you before sliding in with one single thrust. He hasn’t taken any time to prepare you, so the intrusion initially burns, but the discomfort quickly subsides as he thrusts in with an unrelenting pace.

You can't keep your moans and whines in even if you want to, and when Steve lands a hard spank on your ass, you scream his name loudly. At this point, you don't care who can hear you, all you know is how good Steve is making you feel as he fucks you nearly into oblivion.

"Let everyone know who’s making you feel this good, you dirty fucking slut! You want the entire Compound to know who's fucking you like this, hmm?" he asks, and all you can do is nod.

"Well, let them hear it!” he demands. “Who's making you feel this good?"

"Y-you, Daddy! Daddy m-makes me feel t-this good!" is all you can manage between his violent thrusts. Your ass is getting sore from the brutal pace Steve has set, as well as the brief spanking he gave you. Your arms gave out a while ago, your face mushed into the covers, and your pussy throbbed, but you don't want to let Steve win; you're determined not to let him get to you.

"Pussy feels like heaven, missed your pussy so much, you know that? Nothing ever came close to how perfect yours is! Such a sweet pussy, letting me in whenever I want," Steve groans before leaning forward and grabbing your throat and pulling you back against his chest.

"Daddy!" you scream out at the change of positions, and he squeezes your throat, constricting your airflow enough to have you feeling lightheaded and floaty but not so much to risk you passing out. His other arm is wrapped around your belly where he can feel himself.

"Fuck! I'm so deep in your sweet cunt I can feel myself in your belly!" Steve exclaims with a grin, picking up the pace as he shifts his angle slightly. You let out a strangled scream at the way he hits your sweet spot like this, your legs shaking uncontrollably.

You know that if it weren't for Steve holding you up, you would have collapsed by now, and the position he has you in has your nerve endings feel like they're on fire. All you need now is just a little stimulation on your clit to be sent head-first into your orgasm, a fact that Steve is well aware of..

"What's wrong? Does my slut need to cum?" he coos as you nod, but instead of giving you what you want, he constricts your airflow entirely and sets an even harsher pace, all while groaning loudly. As the edges of your vision go white, Steve suddenly lets go. You inhale deeply, and a mind-bending orgasm works through your body.

"Jesus, fuck! Look at you, squirting all over the fucking bed like a filthy slut!" Steve says as he rides out his orgasm, which had been triggered by the strength of yours. You hadn’t even noticed at first. When he lets you go, you collapse onto the bed, completely tired. ”T-thank you, Daddy," you manage to murmur before falling asleep, exhaustion having taken you over completely.

While you sleep, Steve cleans you up and dresses you in a pair of his boxers and a T-shirt.

When he's dressed, only pulling his sweats back on, he goes to the kitchen to grab some water for the pair of you, a thin layer of sweat still adorning his body as he walks around proud as a peacock.

Nobody says anything as they look at Steve, horrified, and he knows everyone heard exactly what the two of you did just now. What the two of you said to each other.

"What? Someone had to make sure the message would get across," he says with a wink before heading back to his bedroom and closing the door. The water bottle he grabbed for you is put on the nightstand with some Advil, which he’s sure you’ll need when you wake up.

He takes his place in the large armchair in his room, his sketchpad and pencil lying on the armrest as he decides what to draw. He grabs it before flipping through the pages, every page having a beautiful drawing of you. He has drawn everything he could imagine, from close-ups of your face to your silhouette in his favorite outfits.

As he starts on the next one, he can't help but think about what things would be like if you were his again. He has missed you too much and vows to try his hardest to win back your affection. Today was the first step. Now, all he has to do is wait. And if there's one thing Steve is, it's a patient man, especially regarding you.

[tadpolesonalgae]

Hi! Is the master list a wip rn? It’s not working for me

Hi! Sorry to commandeer this post but there are a few things I want to say relating to this.

So over the past fortnight or so I've actually seriously been considering deleting my blog, or just stopping writing fanfiction entirely. Most of Two Birds has been deleted and I started getting rid of a few Teeth and Talons chapters, I think all the links to masterlists have been taken down and I've made most of the cbmthy chapters private.

I don't want to mislead anyone by speculating why I've been feeling the way I have, but I'm fatigued, exhausted, demotivated, and I feel used.

Fandom to me is supposed to be about community, not to be taken as charity. That means interacting with writers. Reblogging posts with more than just sorting tags. Commenting something other than asking to be on a taglist.

I want to stress there are over 3,600 of you following me, and yet only the first part of cbmthy, Unchained, and Stockholm Syndrome even a third of you have interacted with. Most stories I write now have around 100-300 hundred notes, a fraction of those being comments or reblogs, which is such a small percentage.

My problem isn't feeling there aren't enough likes/comments/reblogs.

My problem is when I now share a fic with you, less than one twelfth of you are even seeing/acknowledging it.

If you don't like my writing, I'm fine with that; there have been others who have been kind enough to express how much they do enjoy it, and sincere enough that I believe it.

But for anyone who doesn't enjoy my writing anymore, please unfollow me.

If you don't have the time to read the things I write anymore, please acknowledge that and unfollow me.

If you don't have the energy to enjoy fandom anymore, please unfollow me.

I'm more than happy if 100 or so of you enjoy a post, because that's one hundred people who have enjoyed something I've taken the time to write, but the remaining three and a half thousand of you, keeping quiet, not interacting, potentially not even seeing the stories I work hard on, just feel like dead weight.

A drabble, or a head-canon post takes me about two hours to write.

A 2k/3k word fic takes me around five hours to write.

A regular cbmthy chapter can take me up to eighteen hours to write. Not including editing.

So to answer your question: I don't know if it's a wip.

I haven't decided whether or not to fix all the links. I don't even know if I want people to have access to all the stuff I've written.

Hobbies are supposed to be fun, but if the discontent and resentment outweigh my enjoyment, then I have to take a break from it, either temporarily or permanently.

I'd love to write a book one day, and I think having this blog is a great way for me to practice my storytelling, but I can't do any of that if I don't have the will to write.

[fictionalreads]

Hello do you think you could do this one the reader and Mike are married and she knew about Lockwood but Mike didn't believe her because of Rita, reason, and they had an argument he said something that he should never said and she got kidnapped while being months pregnant 😦😦😦😦

A/N: HIIIII!! I'm so sorry this took so long, I was out of town and then had to get back in the rhythm of things once I got back. Writing for Mike (where it's his story and he's not playing the role of narrator for the sake of Armando) was different. I included Rita but I just couldn't make her the reason he didn't believe reader, I just felt like she and the reader wouldn't have beef so that was changed but I tried to stick to the rest of your request. I hope you enjoy this! 🥰 Title from Forget How to Love by Meghan Trainor

I Know Your Words Shouldn't Hurt Me, But They Hurt Me

Fandom: Bad Boys Movie

Pairing: Mike Lowrey x reader

Warnings⚠️: Um... Relationship issues? canon typical violence even though its mostly talked around

You knew when you married Mike Lowrey that he was used to doing things alone, that moving as a unit didn’t come naturally to him. Sure he had Marcus and they were a well oiled machine, but it didn’t start that way and at the end of the day Marcus had a family that was his priority no matter how much he loved Mike.

But Mike was your priority, you’d go through hell for him.

He knew this, but after relying on himself for so long, he didn’t always come to you first. His initial reaction to anything was to internalize and figure out a solution, only coming to you after he failed on his own. You were used to it, but it didn’t make it less hurtful every time he did it.

You on the other hand, preferred talking it out with him. You liked to explain the issue to him, not looking for him to fix it, but rather to vent it out to someone you trusted, someone who would let you think through it all out loud, sometimes offering his own two cents. You usually were able to solve the issue on your own while talking it out, but having him as a sounding board made you feel less alone. Mike was good at listening to what you had to say.

Which is why you were so surprised when he was dismissive about your concerns.

“I’m telling you, something is off with Lockwood,” you insisted.

“The man is one of the best U.S. attorneys I’ve ever worked with. He’s part of the reason AMMO exists and has tried a lot of high profile criminals that nobody else would touch cause they were afraid of the blowback.”

You shrugged, having already thought of this too. “The best criminals hide in plain sight, gain your trust and make sure you’d never think of them.”

“This ain’t Scooby Doo, alright? This is the real world, let’s get back to reality please.” You knew he didn’t mean anything by it, not really, but it felt like a dig.

“You don’t believe me? You think I’m making it all up?” You were defensive, ready to 

“I never said you were making it up, I’m just not convinced. What proof do you have?” He placated.

He had you there. There was no concrete evidence, nothing specific that made you feel like Lockwood was hiding something, but you just knew he was.

“I don’t have any, it’s just a gut feeling. Intuition or whatever you want to call it.”

“Intuition? You want me to investigate a man who will probably be the next mayor of Miami cause you feel something?”

He was being dismissive at best, belittling at worst. It irked you, especially because you knew he had done exactly that for others before. So why not for his wife?

“Would you do it if it was Rita?” It was a bit bitchy to ask, considering Rita had been nothing but kind to you despite being Mike’s ex. You had thought she’d be a point of contention for the two of you when you first started dating and you found out he worked with her all day, but it wasn’t. You weren’t using her now to pick a fight, just to prove a point. You knew if any of the AMMO team had come to him with the same amount of information you had, he’d chase every lead until there was nothing left.

“What?”

His surprise was warranted so you clarified, “would you look into it if Rita came to you and said she felt something off about Lockwood?” 

“Why are you bringing Rita into this?” His evasive answer made the hairs on your neck stand up. Why wouldn’t he answer the question? You were prepared for him to say yes and for you to point out the hypocrisy of his answer, but him refusing to answer? It put you on edge.

“Why are you ignoring the question?”

“I’m not.”

“Then answer the question. Yes or no?”

“Where is this coming from?” Another avoidance.

“Yes or no Mike?”

“Yes! Okay? Yes I would.”

“Why?”

“Why what?” He knew exactly what you were asking and honestly you were almost afraid of what this was leading to, but you couldn’t seem to stop yourself, to diffuse and come back with a calmer head so you pushed some more.

“Why would you do it for her and not me?”

“Don’t do that.”

“Is it because she’s a cop?”

“Y/N,”

“Or because you’ve known her longer?”

“Y/N,”

“Is it because she’s dating him and therefore closer to him?”

“Because I trust her!”

And wasn’t that a slap in the face.

“And you don’t trust me?” You whispered.

“Y/N,”

“What are we even doing if you don’t trust me Mike? What was the point in exchanging vows and being together if you can’t trust me?”

“I didn’t mean that.”

“You still said it.” Mike was at a loss for words, staring at you, hoping you’d understand but you couldn’t. The man you loved just told you he didn’t trust you. You had never felt so unmoored in your life. Everything about your relationship had just shifted in your view. “I’m gonna go stay in the guest room for the night,” you managed before turning away from him.

That had been the last time you saw him before he became a wanted man and you were kidnapped by McGrath. What you wouldn’t give to go back to that night and talk it all out instead of allowing hurt feelings to run the conversation. Now you could be killed before you got the chance to fix things.

You had faith in your husband’s abilities but McGrath held you and Marcus at gunpoint, blocking Mike’s view of himself.

“What you don’t know is one of ‘em can’t die.”

What the hell? Since when did one of you become immortal? What the hell was he doing? You missed his and Marcus’ exchange because you were so confused by the first statement, only jolted out of your thinking by the gun going off. Mike had shot Marcus to get him down and then shot McGrath. It was over, and Mike was running to you.

“I trust you, and I love you. I’m sorry I didn’t believe you before,” were the first words out of his mouth. He cut your restraints, pulling you into his embrace.

Too high off the adrenaline of the past day, you couldn’t have a real conversation about it with him so you let him know it was okay with a joke. “Bet you’ll never doubt my intuition again.”

He laughed and went to say something when you both heard Judy over the comms saying she’d found Armando. He looked at you in a panic, clearly not wanting to leave you but needing to get to Armando. “Go, I’ll check over Marcus and get us back to the team.” He didn’t waste another second, running to find his son.

It was later when you were escorted to an ambulance that you saw him again, rushing to get to you.

“Everything alright?”

The medic looked at you for permission to speak. “It’s okay he’s my husband.”

The medic nodded, answering his question with, “Its just a precaution sir. We just want to make sure there’s no hidden wounds that are being masked by the adrenaline.”

You were helped onto the back of the ambulance and the medic began her examination, checking your head for wounds and asking if you were hit at any point, blacked out or fell into something hard. You answered in the negative, stating you were pushed around a bit but not hit or thrown into anything. Any falling was the result of trying not to get hit by a bullet or the chopped that crashed. When it seemed she was about done with her examination you spoke up.

“Is it possible to do an ultrasound?”

“Ultrasound?” “Of course.” Mike and the medic spoke at the same time.

You reached out to grab Mike’s hand, tears in your eyes. “Yeah, an ultrasound.” Mike looked dumbfounded and you continued to look at him even as you spoke to the medic, “My OB said I was about nine weeks.”

The medic noted the information and readied the ultrasound. Before long the sound of your baby’s heartbeat filled the air and the fear you’d been holding back burst through you in the form of relief. Uncontrollable sobs wracked your body knowing you had managed to keep your baby safe. Mike held you closely, trying to calm your breathing.

You knew the two of you had some tough conversations in your future but right now all that mattered was that your little family was safe.

[marika-misc]

Mental Health & fandom

tw : mentions of Neil Gaiman and JK Rowling, mentions of suicide ideation (in the past)

Note : this is my personal musing and should not be read as facts or an universal truth.

(very long post)

I was never - ever- able to casually like fictions. When I like something it becomes a safe place of sort. A refuge if you will.

As far as I remember, I have been an avid reader and a lover of fictional worlds in books, movies, tv, podcats, etc.

For me, works of fictions have always been more than just pieces of media to consume. They are a get away when things get too much and they often feel like the only thing that can comfort me in a time of need.

I love more or less every kind of fictions. I have pet peeves, yes, and things I can't/won't read or watch, but I love them anyway because I know they bring comfort to other.

I like it so much, that it became my job (I'm a librarian) and nothing makes me happier than a patron telling how they enjoyed something. Even if I don't like it and wouldn't read it/watch it myself. I love when people like things.

So, fictions can't be a casual enjoyment for me. They are part of me and of what I am. When I like something, it consumes me and spreads through every aspects of my life. And yes, sometimes it's a little bit too much maybe ? But, so what ?

For me, being alive is a choice I make every day. Sometimes it's easy, sometimes it's not, most of the time it's neutral. Being alive is hard. Life is hard. And the world is a violent, messy and loud place. So, if fiction helps me to keep going and find joy in this life ? Hell yeah ! Who cares ?

Numerous works helped me through the years to stay alive and deal with changes.

When I was 8, it was books by Enid Blyton. When I was 10, it was books by Agatha Christie and Gaston Leroux When I was 13, it was Titanic and Celine Dion (ilu Celine) When I was 15, it was Gundam Wing for 6 months When I was 17, it was Prince of tennis for about a year But between 14 and 25, it was mostly Harry Potter

Harry Potter and the Globet of fire was the first book I read in english. It took me 6 months, with a dictionary. It was also my first real foray into the world of fanfictions. I had read some before, but with HP, I binged like crazy. I read in french and in english. I printed pages and pages of fics in my highschool library. And I made arts. Lots of it, now lost in the ether.

I re-read the whole serie every time I had to go through changes. It was with me when I moved 500k away from where I grew up and helped me through 3 house moves.

At 25, I moved from HP to other fandoms, but it was still very dear to me and I kept going back to it from time to time. I was on the waiting list for Pottermore for example and still occasionnaly binged fanfictions.

When JKR started to be more vocal with her bullshit, I was chocked and disgusted. I felt betrayed. And it was also the first time that I felt like I was a traitor for enjoying a thing. I couldn't be a good ally if I admited to like HP, right ? So I gave away my books and stopped interracting with the work. I even started to judge people who still bought things HP related. Because HOW could you still give money to her ? But deep down I kind of understood how difficult it was to part with something that meant so much for so many of us. Don't get me wrong, I don't want to give her money and I don't plan to. But it's easy to judge other and forget that the real piece of shit is JKR, not the fan who buy a gryffindor pair of socks and/or write fanfiction after a grueling day at work. It's unfair to have this purity weight to bear all the time and judge people for how they chose to interract with a thing they like. And it certainly doesn't do much to tell people how to feel and how to be "good".

Also, being an ally is not just refraining to buy something HP related. But it's a whole other subject.

Anyway, after HP, I started to fall even harder in the fandoms I was a part of. A fair number of them being "problematic".

First thing first, liking a "problematic" media is ok imo. I know they are not perfect and I acknowledge it. I'm still allowed to like them. Nobody can dictate how I feel.

Second thing : some of these fandoms saved my life. Glee litteraly stopped me from jumping in front of a train and for at least two years, Merlin was the only thing bringing me a little bit of joy.

Nobody can take that away from me.

Recently, Doctor Who and Our Flag means death prompted me to go to therapy again and made me realize A LOT of things about myself.

And there is Good Omens. Good Omens is my current hyperfixation and really what kept me going these last few months. I fell and I fell HARD. Probably because I needed fiction to keep myself afloat and it was there for me. It's kind of funny, because I had read the novel more than 15 years ago (I came to it when reading a lot of Pratchett) and even if I liked it at the time, I still liked other Pratchett's works better. It all changed with the tv show. I wouldn't say it's better than the novel, but it's different and the changes made (and also the fact that DT is in it, lets be honest) spoke to me a great deal. So I became invested. And I began to create again. After years of art block and only drawing sporadically, I was drawing nearly every day and finding great joy in it. Good Omens kept me alive and gave me my creativity back. It was (and still is) so important to me, that I decided to get a tattoo of the first two sentences of the novel. It's a whole design with a book, a sword, a snake and apple blossoms. It goes from my right shoulder to my elbow. I got it done in april.

Three months later the allegations against Neil Gaiman came out.

It hit me hard. Harder than with JKR. And I wasn't even a fan of his. But what he did (because I chose to always believe the victims) horrified me and made me angry. So angry. Angry for the women who suffered first and foremost, but also angry for the fans who grew up with his words and now feel so betrayed and overwhelmed by what is happening. And I'm angry for myself. Very selfish of me, I know. I'm angry, because Good Omens is my safe place and I have now to fight to keep it that way. It still brings me joy, but it also brings me anxiety and seriously fuck you Gaiman. Fuck you. Fuck you for tainting a source of joy and creativity for me. Fuck you for dirtying Terry Pratchett's legacy. Fuck you for being an abuser and proving again and again that none is really safe in the world we live in. I hope you'll pay for what you did, even if I know you will probably not.

This is so not good for my mental health. Also, how do you cope when you have the words inked on your arm and are reminded everyday of the shitshow going on ?

I hope Terry Pratchett wrote them. Not you. But how would I know ?

I talked about it with my therapist because my anxiety was out of control (again) and we did some EMDR work on it. It helped me clear my head a little and reminded me that I was not in the wrong to love something and to find joy in it. I agreed to wait at least a year before deciding if I wanted the tattoo to be covered (not the snake, sword and apple blossom part ; the book part). I could do it now, I even have some designs in mind, but I'll wait to be certain and not take a rash decision because I'm hurting. I will not give him my money anymore, but I don't want him to take the joy and comfort I find in Good Omens away from me. I won't let him. I won't let anyone.

I don't want to do what I did with HP again. I don't want to negate something I love and which brings me joy. So I will rip this book and show from his dirty hands and keep them close to my heart where it's safe.

Maybe it's not being "good" or "moral". Maybe I shouldn't separate the art from the artist and preach for Death of the author. Maybe.

But I'll do it anyway.

My own moral compass is strong and I will not deny myself again.