#So if I read everything I consider good in a fandom and an author I like happens to be in several of them

[seafoam-taide]

nothing moreinsane than clicking on a fic authors name out of curiosity and finding they authored several other fics from a wide variety of fandoms that you have ALREADY READ.

[sciencebecameouraddiction]

title: dancing in the rain

author: sciencebecameouraddiction

fandom: hazbin hotel

rating: PG

genre: slight, baby angst/ major fluff

pairing: Alastor x Reader

summary: all hell had was acid rain, and all you wanted was the rainstorms you knew on earth.

Rain hardly ever was an occurrence in Hell. And when it was, it was acid rain. You sighed, looking out the window and watched the green acid pouring down on everything, missing desperately the rain storms that you had on earth. Being the youngest at the hotel, you remembered more clearly the burn of the sun on your skin, the cool breeze on a fall day and even the mix of the humidity in the air that felt like it would choke you but the reprieve as a rainstorm came and fell from the heavens.

“What has you so melancholy, my dear?” A voice asked behind you, shockingly quiet all things considered, toning down the announcer quality in his voice.

“Hey Alastor, just thinking is all.” You replied and smiled at him, not wanting to explain that the acid rain made you sad.

“Now, whatever it is that you’re thinking about is casting a dark shadow over your usually lovely face. So, tell me, what’s wrong? What kind of hotelier might I be if I didn’t ensure that all the patrons here were happy?” He said, the announcer tone coming back into his voice, which made you wince. Knowing that meant he knew you were lying so he was going to put on a show if you were. You sigh.

“It’s the rain.” You explain.

“The what now?” He asks, all effects gone from his voice except shock and a bit of confusion.

“The rain. I miss the rain. Not this rain. The rain on earth. The smell of the earth after a good rain storm, the way that especially in the summer when it was so hot, the rain was a cool reprieve. It always felt like…” You trailed off.

“Forgiveness?” Alastor finished, looking outside the hotel now too. You blink and look up at him.

“Yes. Are you sure you don’t read minds?” You chuckle, resting your head on your hand. You suddenly feel his microphone tap your head. You look up at him as holds his arm out to you.

“Come with me.” He says, not giving you time to feel confused. As when you take his arm you shadow travel with him to the other side of the hotel appearing at the door of his room.

“This is your room.” You say, confused now.

“Ever observant. A skill many would kill for I’m sure.” He smiles at you, but the sarcasm is evident as he holds open the door for you and you step into his room.

“Just a certified Sherlock Holmes.” You roll your eyes, taking his sarcasm.

“I never had the chance to read those books.” He mused for a moment, as he shut his door and walked around you heading to the forest area. You stayed near the door.

“I have the collection if you’d like to borrow it and read them.” You explain. “They are annotated though, so you’ll have to put up with my notes.” You explain.

“That would be lovely, dear.” Alastor says stepping on the grass and you watch as he takes off his coat and hangs it on a coat rack that appeared suddenly. He turns to you. “Aren’t you coming?”

“I-I guess?” You say, more like a question. You jog over to him and start walking next to him. “Are you killing me in your forest because I complained about acid rain?”

“Oh, no. Not you at least.” Alastor chuckles. “I want to show you something.” You look up at him skeptically.

“Hey Alastor, can you take smaller steps?” You ask having to jog to keep up with him. He looks down and hums seeing how you were almost running next to him.

“Good to know that if I had to catch you I could do so without breaking a sweat.” He says, as he walks slower and taking smaller steps, allowing you to actually walk, instead of run.

“Har har.” You say deadpanned and roll your eyes. You walk into a clearing that has a cabin in the middle. The whole forest felt like it was shrouded in the twilight of fall when lightening bugs gently floated around and the sky was a perpetual shade of blue, purple and pink. You finally looked up and around, seeing the trees, the bugs, the animals, the sky. Tears formed in your eyes. “Alastor, this is beautiful. It looks just like-“ You stop, your throat constricting as emotion overtakes you. You feel Alastor’s clawed hand rest on your shoulder.

“Just like earth?” He finishes, speaking softer than you had ever heard. You nod and look at him, watching him take everything in and then looking down at you.

“Come, let me show you something else.” He says, walking away and heading to the cabin. You walk in and suddenly feel at home. The decor is a little dated and you feel transported to the 1920’s, but it’s all homey. There’s a kitchen, a living room, a lounge and a hall way leading to what you assumed to be a bed room. You walk through the living room, taking it in but trying not to pry at the photos Alastor had in frames along the mantel of the fire place, you see at the back door there is almost like a deck, with a more modern porch swing.

“The porch swing is a nice addition.” You mention, smiling a bit at the modern accessory in what felt like a time capsule.

Alastor chuckles as he sets his microphone down and rolls up the sleeves of his shirt. He joins you next to the window. “You haven’t seen the best part.” He murmurs, unusually quiet and reserved. You don’t mention the change in demeanor though, wanting to savor the quiet and this almost more authentic view of the Radio Demon.

“What’s the best-“ You stop when you hear it. The start of a pitter patter of rain on the roof, that builds and when you look outside, it’s raining. “Is that?” You blink a few times.

“It is. Safe for you to touch as well. You won’t get hurt.” He smiles a genuine looking smile as he goes over to the record player and starts playing music. Your hand touches the door, feeling the coolness of the water slide down the glass pane. You can’t stop yourself as Alastor fiddles with the record player, you open the door, quickly closing it so no rain would get in the cabin and rush outside off the deck. Twirling in the grass as the rain poured down soaking you.

“What are you doing?” Alastor yelled from the door, watching you like you had gone mad.

“Dancing in the rain!” You yelled back, a smile feeling permanent on your face.

“You’ll catch a cold, get back inside!” He says, looking up at the sky and then back at you.

“No! Come join me! It’s amazing! This is exactly what I remember.” You say holding you hand out to Alastor. His smile looks more like a grimace as he takes you in looking like a wet dog. He looks back inside and waves his hand at something and you see towels appear and the record player is louder so you can hear it outside. He takes off his shoes and socks and places them neatly at the door but far enough away that when you come in, water or mud won’t get on them.

He walks out getting drenched almost immediately as you run up to him and grab his hand and pull him on the grass. You take both his hands and start trying to spin around in a circle with him, as you see his eyebrow raise. You stop and look at him, a little disappointed when he doesn’t spin with you and you start to let go of his hand, until his hand tightens and pulls you to him.

“We can dance in the rain, but we will be actually be dancing.” He says as he proceeds to guide you through a dance that was popular when Alastor was alive, morphing into an odd mash up of a swing dance and you dancing like you were at a rave. You both settled down and were now just slow dancing as the song had turned a bit slower. You watched as Alastor’s eyes were closed as his face angled up to the sky. You made a spit second decision, and rested your head on his chest, really it was like the start of his abdomen but it was as tall as you could reach. You didn’t see his head snap down to you and watch as you seemingly relaxed in his arms, drunk off the warmth he gave and the cool from the rain still coming down. His hand moved up, and grabbed your chin, encouraging you to look at him. As you did, you saw his eyes widen and his cheeks turn bright red.

“What’s wrong?” You ask quietly.

“I’ve never… done anything like this before.” He says quietly, and it breaks the fogginess you felt before.

“You don’t have to be scared. It’s just me.” You say, as if it’s the most simple thing in the world.

“Just you? Darling, just you is enough to have me go to war.” Alastor murmurs and then his eyes widen again, shocked. You realize that he is just blurting things out and there is no filter. You smile.

“Well, I’m honored that the Radio Demon would want to be in my corner.” You say as your hand reaches up to touch his cheek, stopping just a few centimeters away, allowing him to close the gap if he wanted to. He leans into your touch shaking his head.

“Not the Radio Demon, dear. Just Alastor.” He says, looking at you with a vulnerability you had never seen before. Your eyes widen and you smile.

“Even better.”

[sundrop-writes]

Better Than Sleeping

Jason Todd x Fem!Reader

Summary:

You and Jason are friends with benefits. Though you have come to realize that the relationship doesn’t always ‘benefit’ you when he ends up annoying you after a long, tiring day of training.

(He quickly makes you come to see that his annoying persistence can benefit you, even if you would never admit it aloud.)

Jason Todd x Fem!Reader. Friends with Benefits. Smut. Set during Season 2.

Word Count: 5,300

DC Titans Masterlist | AO3 Link

THIS IS A RE-POST. This is a fic from my old blog (a blog that was shadowbanned, forcing me to move). This fic is not stolen, it is completely mine, and I am just re-posting it to help people find my new blog, and to make my masterlist complete when I post new fics for this fandom.

Warning: This fic contains Dubious Consent. One character ‘wears down’ the other and ‘convinces them’ to have sex, and both of them display verbal consent that goes against their true actions and desires (they say no to having sex when they do truly want to) and they think of convincing the other person to agree as a kind of ‘game’. It is a relationship that is playful in nature, and this consent is based on bodily queues, facial expressions, and knowing a person’s safety and comfort based on being in a relationship with them for a period of time. If this makes you uncomfortable, please don’t read the fic.

List of detailed warnings and author’s notes below the cut.

Warnings: friends with benefits, this is primarily a smut fic, the reader character uses she/her pronouns and has a vagina, Jason is more dominant and the reader is more submissive (once the sex begins), the reader could be considered a brat, Jason calls the reader ‘babe’ (it is a canon event), Jason calls the reader ‘baby’, Jason calls the reader ‘good girl’, dubious consent - coercion (please see the above for an explanation about this), mentions of masturbation (watching someone masturbate), mentions of fucking someone to sleep/fucking someone while they are asleep, mentions of free use kink, mentions of cumming inside someone/unprotected sex, marking/biting, groping/touching through underwear (reader receiving), orgasm denial (toward the reader), ‘just the tip’,teasing, there is a point where Jason’s dick is inside her without a condom but he doesn’t cum, and he puts on a condom before fully penetrating (what would you call that?), begging, slight mentions of subspace (but it’s more so described as a lustful drunkness), there is implications toward the end of fucking someone to sleep/fucking someone while they are asleep with their permission. I believe that is everything.

A/N: This is definitely one of my favourite things I have written. I thought maybe I was going to edit it some before re-posting it, but I was rereading it the other day and I actually realized that it's really good the way it is, so here you go - some random cocky Jason smut, inspired by the 'just the tip' trope. I hope you enjoy!

...

You knew that becoming a Titan was never going to be easy. 

But fuck, this was a lot harder than you imagined it would be. Dick Grayson was quickly becoming your least favorite person. Between the 5am wake up calls and the endless workout routines, paired with the bland ‘nutrient filled’ meal plans he had everyone on to ‘fuel your bodies’ for training - he was becoming a menial drill sergeant that you couldn’t get away from. One of the only things that made it better was the fact that you had friends around - the ability to joke about him with Rachel, Gar, and Jason behind his back. Was it a bit mean-spirited? Yes. Did you feel less guilty about it whenever he added more onto the training routine? Also yes. 

You had no clue when these skills you were working so hard on were ever going to come into play. Every single night, Dick retired himself into the comms room full of computers to ‘monitor the city for threats’ - but he seemingly never found anything worthy of the team’s attention. At least not yet. So you went about the routine of training hard, becoming exhausted, falling into bed to sleep and then doing it all over again. 

Oh - and there was the other thing. The not so occasional part of your routine where Jason fucked your brains out. The fact that the two of you had developed a mutually beneficial relationship to help ‘relieve’ each other when you were horny, a quintessential friends with benefits situation. But with your muscles sore from training and your entire body so exhausted, that was the farthest thing from your mind on this night. 

After a long, hard day of training, the last thing you wanted to hear was a knock on your bedroom door. You hoped that it was simply Gar asking to borrow some of your body wash again (because he liked the smell), or Rachel asking you to kill a spider in her room, and not Dick alerting you to some surprise training drill that he had suddenly thought up. 

You shoved your pajama top over your head, finishing getting changed for the night, and rushed across the room to the door. When you opened it, you barely had time to gauge if you were pleased or displeased at seeing Jason before he spoke. 

“I’m horny.” He announced abruptly, being very abrupt about delivering his feelings. 

But it was in character for him, and didn’t surprise you in the least. 

You hated that your stomach jolted at his words, even if just out of Pavlovian habit. It had been only two days since the last time he had fucked you. He had caught you in the shower in the morning, snuck into the bathroom with a condom between his teeth and opened the shower door to join you while you were distracted meditatively washing your hair. It had been steamy, soapy, slippery, and goddamn wonderful. 

But it had left you sore and stiff before training, and you were wondering how much give and take there was - if you truly needed his cock. 

“Hello to you too.” You said, your tone just as dead tired as you felt. 

You wouldn’t admit that you were a bit horny too. You were tired, and you wanted to go to sleep. So that made you annoyed with his presence. (It should have made you more annoyed than you were.) 

Jason bit his lip, raking his eyes up and down your body with an intense heat lurking there. You glared back at him. 

Jason was intensely attractive. He was a good looking guy, that was just a fact. And while you did enjoy the way he was looking at you, staring you down like you were a porn star when you were slumped with exhaustion, wearing baggy old pjs with mascara smeared on your face with sweat, your hair a mess from the day - there was barely a spark stirred in your stomach at the idea of fucking him right now. You were just too damn tired. Dick had been running you all into the ground, instituting the same training that Batman had given him, and it was fucking exhausting. 

“So - can I come in?” Jason asked. 

He gave you a very expectant curl of his lips and tilted his head toward you when you didn’t say anything for a few seconds. You just stood there and stared at him bitterly. 

You sighed hard through your nose, not wanting to answer the question. 

Fucking him might be nice. A good orgasm before bed. But you needed to put what little energy you had left into your nightly routine and then get a good, long sleep before Dick woke everyone up at ass o’clock again. 

“No.” You finally told him. “I’m going to bed.” 

You turned and walked back into your room, but left the door open. You hoped that he would get the hint to leave on his own. You grabbed your bottle of makeup remover and a cotton pad and began taking off your makeup. 

You weren’t so lucky. 

“I’ll go to bed with you, babe.” He announced proudly. You could practically hear the smirk in his voice. 

He then came up behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist from behind. You felt the half hardness of his cock pressing into your ass as you wiped away your makeup with stern hands. You tried your hardest not to let him wear you down, even as you felt a tingle between your thighs. He was used to training this hard, so it wasn’t as exhausting for him. Clearly, he didn’t understand how tired you were - how badly you needed the rest. 

“Go get in your own bed.” You barked, your tone becoming more strained. 

As you leaned closer to the mirror to inspect your face, to make sure that you had gotten all the tiny specs of makeup off, you unintentionally arched your back, pushing your ass much closer to his crotch. Jason let out a quiet moan and you caught him smirking at you in the reflection of the mirror. 

He leaned in close, draping his warm body entirely over your back, trapping you there as he put one hand on the dresser and the other on the wall and leaned his body weight on you. You could have shoved him off you if you wanted to - but as you felt a tingling heat creeping up your back, you weren’t entirely sure if you wanted to. 

“Come on, babe.” He sighed into your neck. 

His hot breath on such a sensitive place caused a shiver through you that you would deny. 

“Why are you being like this? You know if you want a good sleep, getting fucked nice and hard is the best way to get it.” He told you, so entirely cocky. “My cock will put you right to bed, baby.” 

The words sent a hard jolt of electricity through you, settling a hard heat through you from your gut all the way to your face, burning uncomfortably through your skin. Combined with the way he ground his increasing hardness against your ass, you were forced to suppress a whimper. 

It made you even more annoyed with him - the fact he could play your body like an instrument he had finely tuned. And you reacted with that intense annoyance. 

“Why can’t you just masturbate like a normal person?” You scoffed at him, entirely firm, not giving away an ounce of weakness in your voice. 

“As if.” He held intense disgust in his voice at the very idea. 

He gave another firm dig of his hips, causing you to be pressed into the sharp edge of the dresser - a small twinge of pain that only added to the heat growing in your stomach. 

“Why the fuck would I resort to touching myself when I have the sweetest pussy ever to fuck right down the hall?” Jason explained. “But ya know, if you want to watch me jack off, that can be arranged.” 

Instead of responding to that, you just rolled your eyes. You hoped that he wouldn’t notice that subtle shift of lust in your features that said this was definitely a new fantasy of yours because he had brought it up. 

“You can’t deny that you need it too.” Jason whispered into your ear. 

“I need sleep.” You grunted in return. 

You then shucked out of his hold, using one of the evasive maneuvers that Dick had taught you in training, ducking under Jason’s arm when he wasn’t expecting it. Before he could blink, you were across the hall and in the bathroom. It was mostly because you knew that if you stood there any longer with his warm body pressed against your back, you would have given in far too easily. 

Naturally, Jason followed you. 

He stuck by your side through your entire night time routine, trying to wear you down. You weighed the pros and cons in your head without truly listening to him as the exhaustion seeped into your bones and battled with the lust growing inside of you. 

Jason brushed his teeth standing next to you in front of the sink while you brushed yours, all the while mumbling excuses through his toothpaste about how the sex would be good aerobic exercise to help with your training. By the time you got to doing your skincare, you ended up putting a face wash and moisturizer on him just to mentally drown out whatever he was saying - something about orgasms and endorphins and how it helps mental health. 

As you pulled back the covers to finally settle in, he snuck his way into your bed under the guise of ‘just cuddling’. Though you weren’t anywhere near convinced of that sentiment, you didn’t kick him out of the room or protect. You were surprised, but grateful when he took off his shirt, laid down, and seemed to finally shut up. You weren’t sure which you were more grateful for - the quiet or the stunning eye candy of his tight body on full display. But you didn’t question the fact that he had finally stopped nagging you. 

You crawled into bed beside him and settled into his arms. You gave him a kiss on the cheek as a goodnight (knowing that if you kissed him on the mouth, it would turn into something more heated). It was only about two minutes after you shut off your bedside lamp, shrouding the room in darkness, that the talking began again. 

“You could sleep through it.” He noted quietly. 

You sighed with deep annoyance. 

“If you want to. I could be gentle about it.” 

His voice continued on from behind you as he spooned you, one arm under your head underneath the pillow and the other laid almost possessively around your waist. 

Of course, he didn’t even have to be too descriptive for you to know what ‘it’ was. 

The idea of him gently fucking you while you fell into a lazy sleep was entirely too appealing. But he didn’t need to know that. He didn’t need to win. Especially not after you had put so much of your very little remaining energy into deterring him all night. 

“Go to sleep.” You told him with a huff, shoving your head further into the pillow. 

He simply chuckled. 

You hoped that if you just ignored him, he would shut up and go to sleep. 

You would never admit to him that heat bloomed in your stomach at the idea of Jason crawling into your bed when you were already in a deep sleep, using you for his own selfish pleasure and leaving you sore and full of cum to wake up to in the morning. 

“Hmm… no.” He replied, as easily as a petulant child, his breath fanning out over your neck once again. 

Your heated thoughts easily blossomed into a moan from your lips when he latched onto your neck without warning. He picked a particularly tender spot, sucking hard with teeth and the fullness of his lips, easily knocking the wind out of you. You shoved your heated face tightly into your pillow, praying that he wouldn’t notice your reaction. That he wouldn’t realize he so blatantly had you like putty in his hands. If he knew that, he would know that he could just take whatever he wanted and you wouldn’t protest. Not in the slightest. 

Jason already knew that. But he wasn’t just going to pull down your shorts and slam his cock into you. As much fun as that would be - he wasn’t barbaric. Plus - now that he had one of your sweet little sounds in his ears, he wanted more. He wanted to hear you beg for it after denying him for so long. 

He moved his arm from being so tightly around your waist, and pushed your shirt up. You tried your best to put up a wall of indifference toward this. He began skimming his touch oh so lightly along the roundness of your stomach, right above the band of your shorts. You knew he felt the shiver that ran through you, but you refused to say anything. You weren’t pretending to be asleep at this point, but it was a game to the two of you. You still refused to give in. 

But he was playing to win. 

He shoved his hand into the waistband of your shorts, touching you outside the fabric of your underwear. His skin felt like he could have burned you, even through the fabric. You had to make a conscious effort not to buck forward into the touch. When his fingers skimmed across your hotly beating clit (when had you gotten so turned on?) you swallowed another whimper and steadied your voice. 

“Jason.” You said his name firmly, like a warning bell. “If you don’t behave yourself, I’m gonna kick you out.” 

“I don’t think you will.” He whispered into your neck, defiantly cocky once again. 

He sucked another hard, hot mark onto your skin as he cupped your pussy whole in his palm and began grinding the heel of his hand against your clit. 

You let out a wobbling moan and your body thrashed, your energy so depleted that you could no longer hold back your body’s natural reactions to him. You were met with the hard wall of his body behind you, so firm and perfectly hot as he pressed himself tighter into you. 

He gave a satisfied grin into your skin and only doubled down, putting more pressure on your throbbing clit and causing hot waves from that point, adding to the rolling boil that raged under your skin. 

With the beautifully firm pressure and Jason’s talent, the way he knew your body so well, you could have come from this alone. Especially as the pleasure throbbed through your core, your underwear became more soaked through and it was all so beautifully smooth and wet. 

Jason began grinding his cock - still trapped inside a pair of sweats - against the back of your thigh. He groaned into your neck when he felt a pleasurable tingling of his own spreading through his gut, though he craved to be inside of you. As much as he was enjoying this - the sweet, needy sounds falling from your lips, the way your thighs clamped around his wrist, as though desperately trying to keep him in place while your hips humped against his hand like a bitch in heat - he knew that he needed more. 

And he was going to make you beg for it. 

When he felt the signature twitch of your legs that said you were about to cum, he stopped. He held his hand completely still, his strong arm easily pinning your hips down to the bed to prevent you from humping against him and simply taking what you needed. In that moment, he even curled two of his fingers up to shove the fabric of your underwear inside of you slightly, creating a sharp sting that reminded you just how empty you were feeling. 

“Jay-!” You let out his name in a petulant whine, about to scold him for the ruined orgasm, but he cut you off. 

“You gonna ask me nicely now?” He rumbled into your ear. “Admit you were wrong?” 

You wanted to bark out ‘either make me cum, or go to your own damn bed’ - but you knew that Jason was just as petty as you were. At that point, he would have gotten up and left for his own bed just to prove a point. 

“You’re keeping me awake right now.” You huffed out, trying your best to sound annoyed. (Which wasn’t too difficult, considering how badly the ruined orgasm had frustrated you.) “My point still stands.” 

Of course, sleeping was the farthest thing from your mind now. The sexual frustration had injected a new wave of energy through you, and you knew that you wouldn’t be able to rest until you were truly satisfied. 

Unfortunately, Jason knew that too. 

“Okay.” Jason sighed quietly, giving a click of his tongue. 

He then completely pulled his hand out of your shorts and pulled away from your body. It seemed like he was moving to get out of the bed - you worried you had accidentally triggered that signature pettiness in him. 

But as usual, Jason Todd surprised you. 

You bit your lip to hold back a cheer when he reached for the waistband of your shorts and underwear pulled them down all at once, exposing your hot, soaked cunt to the cool air of the room. (At some point, the blanket had been accidentally shoved off you.) You took a glance over your shoulder and of course, he was shoving his pants down to his knees. You caught a glimpse of his long, thick, hard cock bobbing out of the fabric in the darkness. But you didn’t dare to spend too much time admiring it, for fear of making him too cocky. 

You relaxed against your pillow in satisfaction, waiting for Jason to grab a condom out of the bedside table’s drawer so that he could literally fuck you to sleep. 

You were surprised when he scooted back toward you, pressing himself right up against your back once more. He proceeded to simply press his hips against yours - his cock laid flat against the bare folds of your leaking pussy, immediately becoming slick with your wetness. But be made no moves to grab a condom or even tease you by pushing inside of you raw. 

(Which - yes, the two of you had agreed to always use condoms, but it was secretly a fantasy of yours that he would go against the rule because of his overbearing need to feel you raw - or even the need to cum inside of you). 

But instead of doing any of that, Jason seemed to be settling in to relax. 

Jason draped himself across your back, wrapped his arm around your waist again, and gently laid his head on your shoulder. But he made no effort to move, or fuck you. Your pussy throbbed with need, feeling the hot, hard length pressed against you, entirely unmoving. When you clenched around nothing, you let out a wave of slick that you knew he could feel right on his cock. You felt a groan catch inside his chest, but still, he didn’t move. 

“Jason.” You breathed out, having to question him after a few more moments of silence and stillness. “What are you doing?” 

“Going to sleep.” He answered, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. “I thought you wanted me to just shut up and leave you alone so that you could get some rest?” 

That. Little. Shit.

You resisted the urge to elbow him in the face. 

Obviously, being so close to you, he felt your entire body tense up with anger and annoyance. He was only able to partially hold back his satisfactory laughter. When the quiet snickers met your ears, you became even more annoyed. 

“Jason.” You scolded him gruffly. 

“Oh? I’m sorry,” He said, entirely sarcastic. “Did you want something?” 

“Did you want something?” You parroted back, mocking his words in a childish voice. 

Essentially, you had no more clever comebacks left. He had won. 

“I guess I can give you something for your troubles, babe.” Jason sighed, as though it were a grand inconvenience to him. “Maybe just the tip, though.” 

“Just the tip.” You sighed, finding yourself repeating his words once again. Though this time your voice was dead and sarcastic rather than mocking - mostly because you didn’t believe him. 

You knew that in Jason land, ‘just the tip’ meant slamming his entire cock into you after the tip lingered in your entrance for a moment. You clenched down on nothing again at the thought. 

Once again, you were expecting him to grab a condom so he could fuck you freely without worry. You were surprised when he peeled his body away from you slightly and reached down to grab his cock. After a moment of rubbing the fat cockhead along your folds to get it nice and wet, he did as promised and pushed the tip inside. 

It was the first time he had ever been inside of you without the barrier of a condom, and feeling his hot, raw skin touching yours - even just a little bit, made you gasp. 

“Jason!” 

Your voice was whiny even to your own ears, so needy for him after so much teasing. Upon instinct, feeling that painfully empty ache coming from deep inside you, you arched your back and attempted to shove your hips toward him - attempted to pull more of his thickness inside of you. But Jason was quicker, and he had his hands on both your hips, shoving you down onto the bed so hard and fast that the tip of his cock fell out of you with a wet pop. 

It was a sound that made heat beat through your cheeks, and the feeling of his wet cockhead brushing against the backs of your thighs took your breath away. 

“Oops.” He chuckled, and moved to slot himself back into position.

You had no clue why it was so dizzyingly hot. 

But this time he held you down firmly so you couldn’t simply fuck yourself back onto his cock. You moaned as the thickness of the cockhead popped back inside of you - you yearned for more, but he stayed still. 

After a moment, he began to move his hips so slightly, feeding no more than an inch of his cock into your throbbing cunt before pulling it back out. It was an entirely careful movement on his part where he fed you the first inch, and didn’t let the tip pop out again, in pathetically shallow thrusts that could barely be called sex. Your pussy ached, tingled, yearned for more. 

You mentally cursed Batman for teaching him such good self discipline and him using it for this.

“Jason.” You whined, trying fruitlessly to fight against the firm grip he had on your hips in order to fuck yourself on his cock. 

“What, babe?” He chuckled, leaning down to kiss a line across your shoulder. 

“You know what.” You replied, your tone even more frustrated and whiny. 

You wiggled your hips desperately, trying to get more of him inside of you. You yearned to feel the perfect ache of his thick cock splitting you open, hitting all of those perfect spots so deep inside of you. 

“No, I don’t.” He told you, his voice somehow steady and confident. “You’re gonna have to spell it out for me.” 

You couldn’t see it or feel it, but his hips were trembling and his abs were tight with the pure resistance of his self control. All of the energy he was using not to slam his cock into the tight, warm velvet of your cunt, especially as he felt it leak so freely around the tip of his cock, knowing how badly you needed him. He wanted nothing more than to watch you whine and babble and fall apart on his cock - but he wanted to win just a little bit more. 

There was a distinct pause. The last shreds of your own stubbornness hanging in the air, even as your cunt throbbed with need. 

Even if Jason couldn’t see your face from this angle, he could feel the warring in your body. He knew you too well. And he knew how to break you down so perfectly. 

“If you want anything more than this,” He told you, emphasizing the point with another pathetically shallow thrust. “If you want anything more than just the tip of my cock,” His voice was low and silken and creating even more heat that almost drowned you. “Then you’re gonna have to beg for it.” 

“Fuck you, Jay.” You whined out in protest, once again trying to fight his grip on your hips to fuck yourself against him. 

He viciously dug his fingers into the fat of your hips, causing a sharp sound from your throat at the beautiful pain. 

He leaned down and pressed his lips to the back of your neck, and growled out his next words in a low tone that dragged through your insides in the exact spot where his cock should have been. 

“Come on.” He urged you on. “Fucking. Beg.” 

That was when you broke. 

At least you hadn’t given in too easily. 

“Please,” You whined out breathlessly. “Please, fuck me! Fuck me, Jason! I need it.” 

“What else?” Jason asked expectantly. 

You could have killed him. But when your desperate cunt unconsciously clenched down on the fat head of his cock and you felt yourself growing only more hot and needy, you knew that there was only one thing to do. 

“I’m sorry, Jay, I should have - I should have just asked nicely in the first place. I do need it. I need your big cock inside of me so badly.” You poured it on thick, emphasizing the last words in the most pornographic voice you could muster, hoping that he was running low on self control as well. 

And he was. So he was very satisfied with this. He grinned into your skin, leaving a surprisingly tender kiss on the back of your neck before he mumbled out ‘good girl’ - something that made you moan out sharply. 

You let out a sharp noise of disappointment when his cock popped out of you again. 

“I need a condom.” He told you, giving you a reassuring pat on the ass. “As much as I’d love to cum inside you, we do have an agreement.” 

You weren’t sure which was hotter - his sex-thick voice admitting that he shared one of your deepest fantasies, or the fact that he was caring so deeply for you, making sure that he protected you with a condom even when you were in that floating headspace and willing to let him do just about anything do your body. 

Your mind was swimming contemplating it, and next thing you knew it, he had the condom on successfully. He then slammed his cock inside of you in one firm, smooth movement. Any thoughts were easily pounded out of your head by the practiced movement of his hips.

“Better now?” Jason grunted into your ear. 

You could practically feel his smugness radiating through his cock, spearing into you. 

But you were now alight with intense pleasure, warm satisfaction rolling through you - so you couldn’t bring yourself to truly care about how smug he was. Every bit of cockiness he had, he did back it up with a pretty big dick that he knew how to use well. Not that you would ever say those words aloud to him. Not even on your deathbed. 

“Just shut up and fuck me.” You ordered, though it was breathless and had no bite. 

“As you wish, babe.” He replied, and then doubled down - his hips fucking into you with an intense fury. 

You moaned like a whore at this, finally feeling that dizzying fullness that you had been craving since he had snuck his touch into your shorts. Jason drank up your sounds and easily wanted more - more of your perfect pussy squeezing around his cock, more of that wetness coating his inner thighs, more of that filthy wet smacking as he fucked into you. 

He leaned down, draping his body fully over yours once again, creating a pleasantly smothering weight on top of you as you laid on your stomach on the bed with your face nearly drowned in the pillow. He slowed the pace of his hips to a dangerous torture of a grind, fucking you so deeply now that you were sure you could feel him coming up inside of your throat. You let out a wounded noise, and he hushed you gently. 

“Shh, babe, I’ve got you.” He whispered into your ear. “Gonna make you feel so good.” 

He moved one of his hands from your hip and shoved it between your body and the bed, and once again he was cupping your mound fully in his hand - but this time there was no fabric barrier, and he was settled deep inside of you. It was filling your whole body with lava, turning every place he touched you to boiling ash. You were sure that you would have dissolved into nothingness if not for the anchor of your cunt hanging onto his cock, keeping you grounded in reality with that slight nip of pain as your muscles clenched onto him. 

“Now say thank you.” He told you, his voice so gruff in your ear, so thick with desire that it made you dizzy. “Thank me for giving you my cock.” 

He used two precise fingers to rub circles on your neglected clit, immediately sending shockwaves through your body that made your muscles jump and jolt. 

You gulped for air and struggled to move your face out of the fabric of the pillow, and Jason saw this. He moved his other hand and slid it under your cheek, gripping under your jaw to fully lift you up. 

He stilled his hips completely once again, causing a pained sound to emanate from your lungs as you clamped down on his cock deep inside of you while he continued to relentlessly work over your tender clit. He gave you a couple of seconds to catch your breath. But you were so cock dumb that you had to be reminded of the goal. 

“Come on, baby.” He encouraged you, pressing his lips to your cheek that he wasn’t holding onto. “Say ‘thank you’.” 

“Thank you.” You easily repeated back, now completely pliant to his desires. “Thank you for-for your cock.” 

“Good girl.” Jason praised you once again. 

Then he began fucking into you once more - it only took a few careful thrusts of his hips and the talent of his fingers on your clit to finally bring your orgasm to life. He shoved his tongue into your mouth as you screamed through it, imitating some sloppy version of a kiss while you flailed and creamed on his cock, your body becoming truly boneless and tired as the orgasm rocked you. 

When it was finished, he was still throbbing hard inside of you, and you let out a whine of disappointment. You were absolutely dead tired now, and you couldn’t even think of how much energy it would take to finish him off. Mister ‘Twice In A Sunday’ could last quite a long time, and that didn’t exactly work for you in that moment. 

“You can go to sleep now, babe.” He whispered into your ear. “I’ll clean you up when I’m done.” 

He began thrusting into you once more, and you couldn’t help but let your eyes drift closed. 

It ended up being a good night for both of you.

...

If you enjoyed this fic, check out my DC Titans Masterlist for more of my other fics!! And please consider reblogging and commenting on this fic to tell me what you liked about it.

[navstuffs]

Synesthesia

Pairing: Gojo Satoru x GN!Reader

Summary: "A condition in which stimulation of one sense generates a simultaneous sensation in another". Or aka the fic where Gojo Satoru fucks you inside his domain expansion.

Trigger Warnings: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!, SMUT, tiny squint of dubcon (reader goes mind blank inside the domain), creampie, multiple powerful orgasms, reader gender isn't mentioned

Author's Notes: probably the hardest smut i have ever written. idk how many times this has been done in the fandom (im sure tons) and one time i read this INSANELY good fic abt it and have never found it again. anyway, enjoy! credit on the images from this post right here.

other gojo fics

An average person will feel many sensations in this world, either physically and/or spiritually (if you believe in that type of stuff). Before meeting Gojo Satoru, your emotions were still there to remind you, hey, you are human: come and feel us; you can't stop us.

Everything changed after you met Satoru.

Gojo Satoru wasn't normal. Even in your first meeting, even without being a cursed user, you could tell something was off about him in the best way possible. The white hair, the ethereal blue eyes behind the sunglasses, or the fact that he consumed sweets as someone should be consuming water. Even your concerns about diabetes didn't feel necessary with this man. 

And then you started dating him. Yes, you, the average human being of this world, the single person in the million of eight billion or more. And he chose you, fell for you, for some crazy idea in his head. You became his new drug in the best way possible. Gojo Satoru could never have had enough of you. 

The kisses were intoxicating, and his neediness was that of someone who could not hear the word "no." Satoru would pout like a child, his head down enough that you could see his eyes shining through his sunglasses. And you would say "yes" as if only that vision persuaded you (it was your heart speaking).

Now, fucking Gojo Satoru, that was on a whole new level. At this point, you knew of the curses, the Jujutsu world, and the fact that somehow you are dating the strongest of that universe (?!). Fucking Gojo Satoru was not like fucking your other lovers. Satoru was entirely in during sex. As in head, soul, mind, the total package deal. And it was only fair you gave him the same. 

-x-

"What would happen to normal humans inside your domain expansion?" 

The question is met with curiosity by Gojo, who is wearing his black bandana today. He ponders for a moment, one finger toward his chin (because you said once he looked cute doing it, and he does it every time now). "They probably wouldn't be able to see it. Just feel it."

"Could it be considered safe?"

"Mhmmm, let me think. For some milliseconds. Why?"

"Nothing."

Oh, but Satoru had already perceived your interest. Your eyes did not meet his, and you tried to look away, embarrassed. His smile grew from his side lips until Satoru questioned, his voice low, " Is there anything I should know of?"

"You promise you won't laugh?"

-x- 

That's how you end up on top of him, his dick buried deep inside your body. It is already overwhelming, suffocating almost, the air being pulled from your lungs every time your hips meet his, and you weren't even inside his domain yet. Satoru insisted on starting slowly for your safety: 0.1, 0.2 seconds max, according to his estimation. 

"Now?"

"Are you close?" You shake your head impatiently, furrowing your brows. "Didn't think so."

Differing from all the other nights, you sense Satoru's tension. He can't relax, not even without you moaning in his ear. It's not that Satoru believes he will hurt you; Satoru has to consider the slight possibility of what could happen if he lost control for a tiny second and ended up frying your brain on accident.

"'Toru. Focus on me." You demand, squeezing his nipple so he can come back to you.

Satoru reacts: he starts rubbing in between in the middle of your legs, stroking your sex in a way only he knew how to do, after weeks of studying your reactions every time you had sex. In less than two weeks, the prick had learned places you haven't even discovered yet. It had to be six eyes, giving your body away like that. Biting where the neck meets your shoulder together with a particular way of fucking you and hitting on the place that made you see stars could make you cum in minutes. You are thankful he is the strongest because Satoru had ruined you for any other person who existed. 

"Focus, honey."  His voice is steady, his chest heaving up and down.

If someone asked you how a mere mortal felt bringing God to his knees, you would know exactly how to explain. That's exactly how you felt fucking Satoru. Like now, with his hands on your hips, helping you sink inside further every time, your open palms resting on his chest for support. It feels powerful and mythical; his mouth parted away like that, licking his lips from time to time. Satoru is a proud moaner, loud and about - but for this time, his forehead is furrowed in concentration, and barely any noises are coming from him. If it were any other time, Satoru would have helped you or taken control when it had gotten too much for his small patience to handle, moving his hips until you were a blabbering mess.

But now, he has to be focused on not harming you. The situation is even more thrilling if you think like that. Bring a God to his knees because if you don't, he might kill you with his power.

"Satoru!" You moan, needy. A warning that you are getting close.

His white hands raise, and you watch (as always) fascinated as the bandana comes off, even forgetting about your looming orgasm. Gojo Satoru is the most attractive man you have ever seen in your entire life, and if you believe in reincarnation, about ten more lives. He has a smirk on his lips now, happy with the way he affects you. I mean, how couldn't he? 

"Domain expansion, Unlimited Void."

Everything stops. The air stops moving, and time stops. You are paralyzed, your eyes wide, feeling everything and nothing at the same time. Your mind goes blank in the total sense of that word; you can't form a single thought. You forget your name, can't remember your parents' names, or where you were born, what you do. 

At the same time, everything is being shown to you; your consciousness is there, floating lost in the sky, but you can't grasp it. The only thing you can feel is your orgasm, but even that feels like it has toned down, a small explosion the size of a jelly bean growing inside your stomach.

The next thing you know, you wake up in Satoru's arms, gasping for air, shaking, with tears coming down your eyes. You can't stop squirming, and you realize it is your orgasm, with so much energy that could light up an entire city, spreading in your veins and going back into your brain at a swift speed, amplifying your senses. Then you find yourself staring at Satoru's blue eyes, and your mind goes blank again, but not like when you were inside the Unlimited Void. No, now you can feel everything: Satoru's love, Satoru's shooting his cum inside of you, Satoru's hand gripping your hips, the scream coming out of your throat!

Satoru is murmuring something, praising you, saying he loves you, but you pass out again, and the entire world goes black. Satoru holds you, feeling your heartbeat, not placing his bandana on his eyes, your body twitching unconsciously. 

You return to him after a few minutes - if anyone asked Gojo, precisely two minutes, twenty seconds, two exact milliseconds, almost three. 

"'Toru?" Your voice sounds exhausted, grateful, and in disbelief all at the same time.

"I'm here, honey. I'm here. You are okay." He kisses your forehead, holding you tightly in his arms, still buried deep inside you.

Later, when you ask, Satoru will answer that he had felt your orgasm within you. He had never seen you so out of this world, literally dumbfucked. He won't confess he got worried for a second and ended up placing you inside his domain for ONLY one millisecond. You also won't confess yet that you wanted to try again, up to 0.3 seconds (normal humans wouldn't survive), but who cares? You want Satoru to fry your brain. Instead, you will roll your eyes at his answer, slapping his arm playfully, and he won't even turn infinite on because it is you. And who is he to ever deny you? You who finally made his life whole. 

You that had a God wrapped around your finger.

[craftygobelin]

I decided not to create fan art or post about Good Omens (Tv Show) anymore.

This fandom was a great support for a long time for me and the book is still one of my favourites from the time I started reading compulsively everything from Sir Terry Pratchett, but I'm so pissed with the fandom right now.

The fact that the recent allegations against Neil Gaiman (I was a big fan of his work until I discovered that like every white cismen of his era with a bit of fame he is a piece of shit and think he can do what he wants to women) was barely covered is a thing and yes, it's pissing me off too.

But the fact that so many people in the fandom try to find excuses or justification for his action and don't participate to spread the information or just say nothing about it thinking you can be "neutral" is pissing me way more.

I don't judge people who want to separate his work from him or those who consider that a fandom, at the end, is more the propriety of the fans than the artist, I'm totally agreeing with the last one and I think they are ways to consume the work of problematic authors without giving them platform and money if you really cannot do without it.

BUT, and my big point is here, the issue I have with GO fandom right now it's that a big fandom like this has the possibility to spread the information and awareness pretty easily and right now people continue to post their fan art or fanfic without any infos about the allegations like nothing happened, that's bad! And don't start me with those who are more focused on if the last season will be released or not. It shouldn't be, not with him as screenwriter and executive producer at least and with a lot of money sent to SA associations and transparency about the situation.

It's giving him the possibility to keep the whole thing discret and make people forget about it. It's giving him the opportunity to have kind of a come back at some point, even a small discret one, and give him access to more women in the future who might not know what he did and what kind of man he is.

I don't say that people need to speak about it on every post, but at least, please :

- stop tagging Neil Gaiman in your fandom works (Good Omens, Sandman, ...fan art, fanfiction).

- stop posting, blazing, or reposting quotes from him, or giving him a platform by showing off his work.

- don't buy first hand or loan at the library his books or comics. Why the local library too ? When more people ask for a book at the library, they buy more copies, and in most of the countries, writers receive something when people loan ebooks at the library, even physical books sometimes.

If you really cannot live without merch products from your favourite fandom, then by all means buy those who are not licenced on etsy or other platforms by small artists. I usually don't recommend that, though I prefer not to buy merch at all if the original creator of the license can not be rewarded, and here it's a bad thing if he is.

- and speak about it. If you post fanfiction, post a disclaimer about the allegation at some point on every fanctiction you post, adding at least the two links of the two principles podcasts. Same when you post fanart on whatever platform it is.

That's all I have to say for now, I think.

[the-king-andthe-lionheart]

History of Westeros tries to act like some sort of ASOIAF authority because they've re-read the books several times, but they really aren't. They legitimately released a YouTube short about Robb's Will being up in the air, which is correct, it is, but they also said that Sansa's marriage to Tyrion was annulled, which is factually wrong and just sounds like annoying Sansa Stan propaganda this fandom loves to spew that completely misconstrues and makes up about Sansa as a character and her arc and themes. I know Stansa's love coming up with excuses about Robb's Will to try to explain how Sansa can become Lady/Queen or the North/Winterfell (spoiler alert: she doesn't even have a leadership arc so how does that make sense?) but this is just next tier bullshit. Sansa's marriage isn't annulled just because you wish it hard enough. Littlefinger is hoping Tyrion is dead so that when Sansa makes her grand appearance after marrying Harry the Heir, it's not proved she's some bigamist, and that her marriage is legitimate. Littlefinger didn't magically finagle an annulment. No Sansa is still Lady Lannister in the books by the people of Westeros no matter how much this fandom wants to boo and hiss and complain about it. No matter what you want, this is what she is known to be in the books right now, just like Arya is still Lady Bolton and Lady of Winterfell (through proxy) by the people in Westeros. No matter how much you complain, it doesn't negate canon.

Can't say I'm surprised though. History of Westeros has defended the show and actually thinks what happened in the show, will largely take place in the books. And they are legitimate Arya anti's. I remember a few years ago they tried answering a question about what they think Arya's upcoming arc and endgame could be, and they couldn't think up anything beyond her either dying or sailing away. How can you be a self-proclaimed ASOIAF authority and not even take Arya's character and arc seriously enough to have legitimate, good faith ideas about where it's going considering she's one of the five main protagonists? Riddle me that?

It's ridiculous and all of this just proves my point. New fans of these books, or even older fans of these books who haven't re-read them, or haven't re-read them in a long time, need to be wary of these so-called "authorities" in fandoms, because most of the time they are biased and they spread lies. It's not a coincidence that most of the lies these people spread always misconstrued or flat out lie about Sansa's character, arc, plots, or circumstances in the books, either. I mean just look at this claim that Sansa's marriage to Littlefinger is already annulled. Look at how many things would come easier to her if that was the case. Not only would she no longer be tied to the Lannister name, but if she were to go on and wed another she wouldn't be considered a bigamist and it would be legitimate. And that's not even considering the fact that the reason Robb made up a Will was to specifically disinherit Sansa from ever getting Winterfell after being married into the Lannister family, so that the Lannister's couldn't claim it through her.

Hmm...kind of seems like History of Westeros isn't just making a dumb mistake (which you'd think would be edited out in the editing process if it was) but actually spreading lies to support their Pawn to Player/Queen Sansa propaganda even though it's still highly unlikely that Sansa would ever become leader of the North even if she got an annulment considering everything going against her in her own arc, which doesn't even include the fact that she quite literally doesn't have a leadership arc and she's the most passive POV character I've ever read and how she's constantly in lalaland. The fact that Robb, the legitimate heir to Winterfell, had to prove himself worthy in a bloody and violent and proactive way, should tell us everything about what the North is looking for in a leader, and it's not some pretty princess puppet planning parties. Sorry not sorry.

[faiell]

yapping about fics and commenting

sorry to yap but work is boring today and tumblr isn't blocked on my work computer LOL

ok it's abt that post where the writer friend stopped writing because they weren't getting the comments/kudos they wanted.

i'm like. an overeager fandom person. like i cannot get into a fandom without wanting to meet new people and make friends. i love yapping about whatever silly gay idiots i'm hyperfixating over. i'm all about community, and sharing the joy of fandom, and all that fun positive stuff.

i don't post my art for stats but like. that means nothing coming from me tbh. i get stats. i can't accurately predict what would happen if i stopped getting notes on my art, but i would probably keep drawing and keep posting, just maybe less confidently, and less often. i recognize that stats make it much easier and while it’s not my primary motivation, it definitely motivates me to keep posting.

and yet. for years, i never commented on fic. i think i left kudos? and i saw posts like this all the time about how writers were so sad they didn't get comments. and i would feel super guilty about it all the time. but i still wouldn't do it! it sounds stupid, but i would feel pressured. if i liked a fic a lot, it felt even more difficult to comment, because i thought i would have to somehow give back to the author everything that fic gave to me. i wanted to craft the perfect comment that could perfectly encapsulate everything a fic made me feel. and that was way too much pressure so i would just not say anything.

when i got into drarry, i started reading a shit ton of fic. and i still wouldn't comment. i left maybe... 2 or 3 comments, maybe, i think. i can't remember. but i had a lot to say and i WANTED the writers to hear that i had read it and liked it. i just... didn't comment! u know what i did instead? i just fucking straight up DM'd writers on discord and started gushing to them that i liked their fic. somehow i was confident enough to do that, but writing a comment still felt like too much pressure. ?? i don't understand it either, but in my head it felt like a writing assignment, but when I was in DMs it felt more like a conversation and so there wasn't any pressure to make it "good"? idk!! it's very weird.

then i wrote and posted my first complete fic. just a oneshot, nothing special, and i was like. UNREASONABLY nervous about posting it. like. i am a confident person, okay? i was going to make a burner AO3 account and post it under a different name so nobody would know it was me, and then never mention it to anyone except MAYBE super close friends. i got talked out of doing that (thanks i feel a bit silly about considering that now). and then i received my first comment on it, which was basically a two-liner where someone said they liked it and thanked me for writing it.

and i was like. ??...?????? ???????? ...??!!! because i felt like... uncontainable glee? i was freakishly happy. the amount of serotonin those two sentences gave me was definitely unnatural.

is that healthy? idk. will it continue? idk. LOL. i hope so? but idk, some people said it wears off if you write/post for a while. but whatever, the fact that one little comment like that could make my entire day blew my mind. tbh i thought writers were just exaggerating when they said stuff like that.

ever since then i started leaving comments! that shit's easy! like what was i overthinking for? i'm such a fucking tryhard! all i gotta say is that i liked it, and even the bare minimum can bring lots of joy to someone.

so basically what im trying to say is that negative reinforcement doesn't do shit!! it just makes people feel bad about themselves. that post is nasty for guilt-tripping readers like that, and i bet you it's going to have the opposite effect (or no effect tbh).

YAPPING FINISHED. for now.

[potatoofdefiance]

My two cents and a rant on the allegations and Good Omens

(I will probably regret this later)

This has been eating at me for a while now, ever since the news broke that Neil Gaiman was a sex pest (see infamous TERF-adjacent podcast by Tortoise media) and I have been consciously and unconsciously ruminating over it for weeks now, so here goes.

I think the news of Neil Gaiman hit me harder than I was expecting, and certainly harder than I would have liked.

I didn’t (and certainly do not now) consider myself a “true fan”. I was never a hard-core fan, one that goes to signings or book fairs or cons to meet my favourite author. Partly because I never latched that much on any of the authors of the books or movies I loved, and partly (maybe for the best now that I think about it) because I never had the money, or wasn’t located in a geographically favored area. Meaning I never lived anywhere near wherever events with Neil Gaiman were happening.

So, with all this in mind, how is it that the news managed to hit me so hard?

I thought (read: ruminated) about it, and I think it is because of Good Omens. And the latest times. In my life, and I think a good chunk of other people’s lives too, these last few years have been a roller-coaster. You choose which particular scenario the roller-coaster is set into; mine is on fire, running through a sea of shit and we are being slapped by gooey flaming eels hard in the face.

Maybe someone might enjoy this. That someone isn’t me.

But the point is: I have been struggling. With my life, with a mental health condition, with the world and my place in it.

Enter Good Omens. In an effort to actively expose myself to “nice” stuff, stuff that would, if not make me feel better, at least make me laugh, I started tapping more into the fandom.

I’m not a fandom person. Again, never latched onto anything that had a fandom big enough (where are the Ann Halam fans? No one is making cosplays of Sloe from Siberia, are they?).

But with Good Omens, it seemed perfect for me. I wasn’t invested so much, it didn’t make me feel like I was “lacking” something in order to be part of it. I just felt like I didn’t care enough to really be vulnerable to it, I felt like it could have been a nice innocuous hobby.

But that’s the point. Thinking it was innocuous made me let down my guard enough to actually fall in love with the fandom. Fall in love with those two weirdos of characters (which by the way, I’ll say this now: I think Aziraphale and Crowley as portrayed in the series are more a product of fans and Tennant and Sheen than they are a product of Gaiman and Pratchett. And this is not a bad thing per se, I think, but let’s give credit where credit is due).

And let me be clear: I gained so so much from joining the fandom. It has positively affected so many seemingly unrelated parts of my life, and I’m so grateful to so many kind strangers on the internet who have shared such wholesome art with me, and have gifted me so much, that even putting it into words is simply not enough to explain all of it.

And one of the results of this “wave of wholesomeness” is I also started following Gaiman more closely.

Like so many, I loved Coraline. Gaiman seemed a genuinely nice person. An old guy who had wisdom to share, and who seemed to be fascinatingly non-stereotypical? If that makes sense. What I mean is that he was everything my father warned me against. A goth, weird, a writer therefore an artist (and in my family we know artists are fools who end up on the street jobless and homeless). And yet, to me now he seemed such a normal guy. Yes maybe someone who enjoyed that fashion style, but otherwise very far away from the usual excess of a rockstar. Of course I was too young when he was at the peak of his rockstar years. English is not my first language, and when he was 40 I was in elementary school and just learning about him, and you know, they do not write about his fans passing out at signings or his groupies on the back cover of children’s books.

What I mean is that I didn’t have access to all the media and information about him.

So I start seemingly connecting to this writer, whose works I have enjoyed for the most part, and who seems such a nice guy in how he interacts with his fans and people in general. Such an inoffensive, kind person. And kind seemingly to everyone.

I started liking him. To the point where I remember telling my partner: you know, Neil Gaiman is someone I’d take a coffee with (which in Italian culture is one of the greatest honors one can give you. Having a coffee while sitting at a café and chat for hours is what good friends do).

So, in my mind he had a special place now. He was someone I started to admire and look up to.

And this is, I think, where it hurts. It hurts because even if I wasn’t personally victimized, I never met him, he never acted creepy with me, he doesn’t even know me, it still felt like I, as part of the fandom, had been used for his clout. And also, it hurts to feel like someone you trusted because of how they presented themselves has lied to you.

And on top of that: it is so fucking disrespectful. The fact he thought he could get away with it. With hurting so many people (one is one too many by the way), and causing so much pain, while also enjoying crowds of adoring fans, both online and in person.

I find it personally difficult to reconcile my love of the GO fandom with all of this right now. And I think it’s for a number of reasons.

Firstly because the silence of institutions and people around these facts has opened some old wounds and made me angry again towards a system that I perceive as hostile towards me and people like me who might be vulnerable.

What I mean is: I know that Gaiman is a powerful person, and a lot of people need to bring money home and are tied to contracts and what not (yeah I’m looking at our favorite two male presenting british actors here) and I understand it. I do. And this is exactly why this stuff makes me angry again. Angry at the whole shitty system we live in, where if you happen to be in some kind of power imbalance you might end up having to eat shit and shut up while witnessing violence against you or others and not being able to utter a word about it. This sucks. It makes me angry. It makes me angry that Michael Sheen, someone I like to believe would be among the first to shout “I BELIEVE THE VICTIMS” if he was talking to friends at a bar, likely has to shut up and play nicely because Darth Amazon has some fucking clause written in Braille somewhere that says he has to sacrifice his firstborn if he ever dares to suggest he doesn’t like anyone related to the franchise.

It makes me soooo angry that we stay in the dark, and we only know from those people who are brave, and powerful enough to speak up about something that (allegedly) has been known for fucking years in the writing community. That this person was a creep. That he was treating people, mainly women and non-binary folks, if not bad, at least poorly.

And you know, this makes me even more angry because I have been in such shitty situations too! I was a victim of a system where exploitation and borderline abuse were normalized in a work setting.

And it wakes something deep in me to read that “it was an open secret bla bla bla” and again: I understand why people set up whisper networks instead of taking these giants down. I understand it. It still makes me angry because I simply do not want to live in such systems. Systems where I’m either the sacrificial lamb or I’m the one tying it on the table, or handing the axe over to the butcher, or a witness who has no power to stop the suffering.

I don’t want to live in such a system. But I have to. In my real life. I have to put up with so much shit sometimes, shit that makes me feel like I cannot stand up for my values because hey, I need to pay the bills too. And Good Omens was one of those few things where I could escape a bit into an alternative reality, where everything could be a bit better.

And I’m sure the fandom is still like this for most of the fans. I have witnessed first-hand how supportive and cheerful this fandom can be.

For me though, it still makes me think of all this...tsunami of shit.

I want to be able to enjoy the silly fanart, the memes, the wait for season 3 again. But I can’t. I can’t because my brain does not work like that. Good Omens still means Neil Gaiman too much to me. And I cannot go around talking cheerfully about Good Omens while feeling like I’m feeding into the clout of someone who used their power to coerce vulnerable people. Because (and I might be wrong) it feels like the message I’m sending is: my comfort show/book is more important than your pain or your life. And I can’t. This is not the truth.

I feel for the victims. Probably I feel even more than it would be healthy for me, or normal. But I don’t know, I feel like I connect to them. Maybe because I’ve been a victim of abuse perpetrated in clear power-imbalanced relationships, or because I felt like nobody cared about me and my wellbeing for so long, that eventually I stopped caring too.

And it is bad. It’s dehumanizing to a point where you really start believing you don’t matter. Your wellbeing doesn’t matter. There are more important things.

Ok so, I don’t want the victims, the survivors, to feel like this. They matter. They matter to me because if there’s one thing that is going to re-ignate the sacred fire of defiance in me is being able to stop this self-feeding cycle of self-loathing and misery. You matter. We matter. Vulnerable people who have been hurt matter to me. If there is one thing we can do to resist these systems of oppression and these people who abuse their power, that thing is believing that the people they hurt matter. If not more, at least as much as them.

And the way I show myself and others that the victims and their lives matter to me is by distancing myself from Neil Gaiman and his works, at least for now.

I feel bad for people who might have found themselves unwillingly tied to all of this. I feel bad for Sheen and Tennant, for all the wonderful artists and craft-people who have put so much of their work and love in Good Omens and I don’t want to let them down.

My two cents are that season 3 will not be canceled if they see there’s enough traction, and definitely won’t be canceled unless fans start a crusade against it, which won’t happen most likely.

The fandom loves Tennant and Sheen too much, and these are too much nice people to really hold a grudge against them, so I don’t think it will be canceled.

I’m afraid we (I say “we” meaning everyone who loves Good Omens) will be “held hostage” by Gaiman in the sense that he knows season 3 is not going to happen without him, so it’s either “we” or the majority of “we” behave, or it’s not going to happen. Which again, I don’t think he would lose the opportunity to make some money, and he also has contract duties to fulfill, but it still is worth it for him to try to leverage his power.

I wanted to end this rant on a positive note, somehow. But I don't know exactly what to say. Recently one of the things that has brought me laughs and joy has been the Channel 4 series “We are Lady Parts”.

In one of the episodes they quote a very beautiful poem, which came back to mind when I was listening to Claire (the latest woman who has come forward with allegations) on the “Am I Broken” podcast.

The poem is Speak by Faiz Ahmed Faiz, I will paste the version from the show, because I think it’s very powerful and beautiful.

Speak, for your two lips are free Speak, for your tongue is still your own This straight body still is yours. Speak, your life is still your own.

See how in the blacksmith’s forge flames leap high and steel glows red, padlocks opening wide their jaws. Every chain’s embrace outspread.

Time enough is this brief hour Until body and tongue lie dead. Speak, for truth is living yet. Speak, whatever must be said.

[spaghettiposts]

Who are some of your favourite writers here?

That's a tough one because I love A LOT of them, but here are the ones that have stuck out to me.

Firstly I'll talk about some Wanda writers:

@mionemymind: one of the most compelling writers out there. I think I have a personal bias because we're similar and share similar interests (star wars lol), they've literally written a star wars based wanda fic!!! Apart from that they have really good one shots and stories. My personal favorite one shots have to be To Be Loved Is To Be Considered, The Actress & The Geek, and my personal favorite Blood Drive.

Aside from being a writer Mionemymind is also a really great person to the community and friends, and I can't tell you how many times I've smiled because of their reblogs. Truly awesome sauce.

@targaryenmarvel: From the moment her story "Fallin all in you" came onto my feed, I was desperately hooked. Absolutely one killer of a story and I can't wait for more. Really great writing and its just so perfect, that story meant everything to me at one point <3

@fortuositywritings: I love everything about this authors writing, but my most favorite thing about their style is the humor. It's so natural and well paced, it makes me smile without fail every time. They aren't as active, and I hope they're doing amazing but if I could let this author know that their series I Said No, and Love Bug changed my writing forever, I would do it in a heartbeat. They're one of the reasons I'm writing for Wanda here today.

@ziggyzolch: I discovered their fic on ao3 first and I've got to say it has me hooked. They deal with more serious topics on series and its one of my favorite parts about their style, honestly Your Prettiness is Seeping Through has got to be hands down one of my favorite series in 2024. Amazing work and great representation to those who need it.

And lastly @wandascosmic: I haven't seen much of her until today but her new series you belong with me has quickly become so special to me that I can't help but mention her. The humor between reader and Sam is amazing, but also the interactions between reader and Wanda have my heart aching so sweetly. I feel like a leech with how quickly I've sunk into this story, you belong with me is so sweetly written and I enjoy every second of it. Amazing work.

Now for the Jenna Ortega fandom, I think I have quite a list. There's so many amazing writers out there it's crazy, I'm always so well fed by both fandoms.

I've got to start out with the legendary @cobaltperun: I binged Lost, for 2 days straight. I was HOOKED. so hooked this story got in the way of my personal life because I couldn't stay away from my phone. I love the way you write Tara and gosh did the series kill and heal me. Aside from Lost, Woe out the storm is also such a sweet story. The whole concept Raiju is so interesting to me now and damn do I love a good slow burn. Im just so deeply impressed too by their rapid request process, and how much they get done, its moving.

Another legend @letorip: First I've just got to mention, his headcannons for characters are amazing and I'm CONSTANTLY having to restrain myself from asking for more because I would only continue. I highly recommend them, they're like stories in themselves. But aside from Headcannons, my personal favorite fic of his would have to be somethin' stupid, especially part 3. The whole series is a must read and gosh do I love the writing, its so beautifully described, every inch of it.

@ajortga: every fic of hers is a fucking BANGER. there's never a fic in which I'm left dissatisfied. I love it all, eat it all. When I find her on my feed, you know I'm immediately digging in. Everything is always so fluffy and nice and just makes a girl feel better yk? I completely recommend reading Cute and Absolute, My Girl, and Bear hugs. All super fluffy and heart warming fics, its crazy <333

@persevereforahappyending: This author stabs me, kills me, brings me back to life, and then stabs me again with angst but I go back every time. Specifically to their newest series A Legacies Secret which is. So. Fucking. Good. They really cooked with that one. Every Friday like clockwork I'm checking for notifications and I'm never disappointed. Their writing style just leaves a grip on you and the plots are so clever too, they're very unique and I love them. Luck Runs Out is another great series and damn I revisit that thing once every two weeks for a reminder on what true love really is.

And lastly but not least one of my newest favorite authors of all time is @honorarysimp: Uncanny Distortion was one of the best things I ever read, the plot, whilst held similarities to scream, had such a creative own twist to the authors imagination. I absolutely loved it, Tara and Detective made my day for weeks, and then came Rumor has it and now two others hold my heart, and break it, a lot. this series feels like its gonna hurt me. But overall Honorary simp is such an underrated writer and I really hope that more people will notice you out there and give you some more well deserved attention because God damn your fics are masterfully crafted and I don't even have the words to describe how much I adore them, all I can say is that I carved a space in my heart for Detective and Lucky.

that was longer than I intended but all of these authors came from the top of my head so they mean a lot to me. Tumblr is a way better place with all of these creative souls in it and honestly I wouldn't have gotten far without all this inspiration surrounding me ❤️

[hg-aneh]

You don’t have to answer this but I hope you read it. I just now saw that you wanted to settle things privately and I feel like a dick because

Well. I hope you’re doing alright and that you have lots of warm blankets and all your favorite drinks of choice nearby. ♥️ I was upset on your part. Lots of good vibes to you.

Hey, don't feel bad about it, I know your intentions were definitely not bad with this, and I'm very appreciative of the gesture regardless of how I wanted to handle things personally

What has been bothering me however is the way people are reacting about this being brought up to Neil

I know it can be mortifying to the fandom at large, but sometimes, some people on the internet won't stop or listen to reason unless some higher authority tells them to do so (which, in this case, it would be Neil), and the people who come to those higher authorities are only trying to make things right, it's all!

Also, he's got over a thousand asks on his inbox and he decided to pick this question to answer by his own volition

No one was pressuring him to do so and he's not going to leave the platform or close his askbox because someone gets a bit too personal with him, he's said before that he just deletes asks that make him uncomfortable, which wasn't the case here so that should tell people enough about it in my opinion (you are completely allowed to disagree)

I've also seen people considering this whole thing just "drama"-?

Listen, I know those people are not me and that theyre not in the position I'm currently at, and by God I hope they never EVER will be

But look. I haven't told anyone (besides 2 friends who watched everything unfold very closely and have helped me with receipt-safekeeping) all the details about this situation, nor have I gone out of my way to talk about it fully with anyone or allow myself to process this whole thing completely, but I assure you, it is not just drama

The way the buildup of all of this messed with me almost made me k-ll myself about a month ago

I can see why people would think it's just something silly since they don't have all the details (and I'm not planning on revealing them unless something big comes up), but please, to those people, think of that for a second, think of everything I haven't talked about. Just. Keep that in mind before you call this drama

I'd really appreciate that

[thatonebirdwrites]

Realized a truth yesterday about how far I have come in my healing

My abuser destroyed my love and joy of writing. I've alluded to this story off and on, but honestly, the only time I ever came close to encapsulating the horrors of that time was the poetry I wrote during therapy.

In fact, the only things I wrote in this dark period of my life was either:

Poetry, which came at a great price.

Essays that I treated like a college assignment.

For several years, attempts to write anything were physically painful. I couldn't write my original fiction at all. Attempts to write fiction left me in spirals of panic, where I drowned in the flashbacks of my abuser.

The one consistent thing in my life had been stolen from me.

It slowly ate its way into everything I wrote, until I could barely write journal entries, and I've written in journals since first grade.

I tried everything to repair this, but that looming abyss of horror obliterated my attempts each time.

One of my chosen family offered a suggestion I'd never considered.

"Bird, what if you write fanfiction?"

But how does one undo years of hurt? Could fanfiction be the key to rediscovering a loophole in my trauma?

When I asked my chosen family, one of them countered with a question, "If there was one thing about a favorite show you'd change, what would it be?"

"Asami needed more screentime to explore her trauma," I replied. "Oh, and Lena and Kara from Supergirl deserved to kiss at Alex's wedding."

"Well, go write that."

Which sounded utterly terrifying. So I dabbled and wrote shorts to familiarize myself with the lore, but that wasn't helping me. It only spun me in circles. I kept tumbling back in the terrifying void that the abuser had hurled me into years ago.

Fanfiction was meant to be shared, right?

So I wandered to AO3, and I read a Korrasami story by Paxbanana. Then I read a supercorp story by @snowydragonscave.

Each word those authors painted on the page spilled hope into my veins. I discovered other stories through the tags on these tales.

These stories on AO3 brimmed with creativity, amazing talent, and lit the flames of a tenuous hope.

Maybe I could find my way back to fiction writing.

Maybe I could eventually return to my original SF novels.

Fanfiction might just be that loophole.

So I took tentative steps in the Korrasami fandom because it's smaller, quieter, and older than Supergirl's. The first fics I posted were not up to my usual writing standards, but it'd been so long since I really exercised my fiction writing muscles.

When I panicked about whether to share or not, my Legendfire chosen family deluged me with words of support. Reminded me that no matter what the response was, I deserved to be heard.

So I posted my fics to AO3 for the first time. The trickle of kudos and kind comments startled me.

People liked what I wrote?

It wasn't even good, I thought.

So I tentatively wrote more.

Then, after a sixth rewatch of Legend of Korra, I found myself wondering, "What if I rewrote Book 2 so that Korrasami happened by the end of it?" Then I wondered if there was a way to reveal Raava's tale piecemeal to Korra and the reader, and thus Book 2 of Shared Moments was born.

I wrote at a feverished pace because I was terrified that if I dared to stop and rest then I'd lose my ability to write fiction again, where the claws of my abuser's legacy would suffocate me once more.

Not a healthy approach, especially as my fear of loss almost burnt me out mentally and physically.

A new approach appeared after a week long, forced break from writing. I randomly read a ficlet by @fazedlight, and felt so compelled that I wrote a follow-up from Lena's perspective.

Not my best work honestly, but it taught me an important lesson. I don't have to write feverishly in a desperate bid to cling to the act of writing.

It hadn't left because I took a break (mind you, the break was partly due to a week long hospital stay, but that's not the point).

I was still able to write after a break.

The claws of my abuser had started to fade.

So I snatched up Kate and Kia from my original science fiction novel -- The Lost Ones -- and dived into a scene with them.

That was a mistake. It set me back. Panic soaked my neurons, dissociation stalked me, and I almost deleted all my fanfiction and nuked my AO3 and Tumblr from the agonizing pain of that set-back.

That's when I got a surprise message from a Korrasami fan @snazzy-korra, who wrote a wonderfully kind message. (Which became the start of a beautiful friendship). That saved me from my own urge to self-sabotage my own healing.

I put away all the original writing, and acknowledged I had not healed enough for it.

But fanfiction?

I could still write that, even if I never felt fully satisfied with the prose. So I returned to carefully staying in the fandom lane. I suspect this journey is why my fanfiction focuses heavily on healing.

A few weeks after that fateful start of a new friendship, I found some GIFs on Tumblr from Supergirl Season 4. The idea for the scene formed, and I tentatively wrote it and posted to AO3.

Also not my best writing. Honestly, I didn't really like it at first. I knew I write it better. That I had written better prose in the past, but I couldn't get past that suffocating terror of loss yet.

I named the fic Confession, and it became my first Supercorp fic on AO3. The amount of kudos and comments on that fic deluged me, and I almost drowned in the shock.

Korrasami felt like friends whispering stories to each other around a campfire.

Supercorp was a whole-ass writing and reading community that felt as big as a city.

To say I was a bit intimidated at first? Maybe terrified? Is putting it lightly.

But then I read more fanfiction by fazedlight, snowy, @luthordamnvers, nottawriter, and others. (One of them shared a link to a supercorp server, and I have a bad habit of collecting discord servers only to lurk out of fear of revealing how broken I am).

Little by little, fanfiction began to heal what I thought had become too shattered, too broken for me to ever recover.

Maybe writing could be a joyful act again.

At that time, I wasn't there yet. My soul still hurt. I still trembled in fear, shrouded in dissociation, lost in a feverish fog, desperate for any nugget of hope that healing was possible.

I didn't really understand how to interact with readers that first year of fanfic writing, and I made mistakes thinking I could befriend people. I still make that mistake, and I often end up hurt by it.

I didn't have to try to appease these readers and live up to what was impossible expectations that I set on myself. I didn't understand yet that fanfiction writing didn't mean I had to keep writing a story when reader's demanded.

Part of the healing process is relearning trust in my own mind.

I'm not there yet. I'm better, yes, but the healing is not a linear process.

A few months ago, I re-learned the lesson of how nonlinear healing truly can be. I reacted badly to someone who left a bizarre and accusatory comment on the most vulnerable fanfic I've ever written -- my Shattered fic.

Shattered was a fic where I poured my heart and soul into exploring my pain and healing, where I dared to share that with others in this fictional lens. I had not done this since before my abuser.

The accusations in the comment (and DMs) triggered massive flashbacks. I panicked, dissociated, and spiraled into a dark place, especially after reading the claim that 'that no one can stop another from writing.'

My wounds still bleed at times, where for several years of my life, my writing was stolen from me, ripped from my hands, torched by abuse, until I was nothing but a husk of a person.

This happened in the same week as my disability healing, and both threatened to torch my healing progress.

I came very close to deleting my AO3 account and Tumblr yet again.

Yet this time my friend, Raveneye's random picture of a cat reminded me of a crucial truth:

Reach out when in crisis.

@fazedlight and @nottawriter came to my aid right away, faster than even my LF chosen family (which is impressive). They talked me through the panic. They provided support when my mind was on fire, when I dissociated so bad that I lost days if not an entire week of time. Their encouragement and kind words prevented a major backslide in my healing.

While they helped me on that front, my LF chosen family showed me the evidence that my perception of reality is accurate.

That two-pronged approach rescued me from spiraling into a very, very dark place. (The disability hearing being that same week really was the icing on a major trauma cake.)

That incident is life reminding me yet again that healing is a nonlinear journey, but it's not one we must walk alone. We can reach out to others for support.

We may not know one another's stories until those stories are shared with each other, and even then, it's often not the full story. it takes time and effort to truly listen and seek common ground.

That's not easy to do, so finding a community of people who holds space for a shattered, broken husk of a person like myself? Where I mess up more than I can count? Who struggles against the spiral of panic and dissociation?

I never thought I'd ever find community again.

I realized recently that a piece of me still believed my abuser's claims that I'm unworthy of such care, that no matter how much love or support or hope I try to share with others, no matter what I write, no matter how hard I try to heal -- I was doomed and too broken for care or support.

But so many people have, often without realizing it, taught me that my abuser is wrong.

I am worthy of care and support.

And yes, it is possible to hurt someone enough to suffocate the words from them.

Because it happened to me.

But it's also possible to heal someone enough to rekindle their spirit.

Because that too has happened to me.

Re-learning how to write from my heart and soul? That is an ongoing journey I continue to this day.

It's why I write Shared Moments.

It's why I write Shattered.

It's why I write this meandering post. What I shared here is the tip of the iceberg of my journey. It's not the full story, as it can't be. That is beyond my ability to write in a nonfiction setting.

I can only share tidbits like this here and there.

But I am slowly rediscovering the heart of my writing -- where I explore my story through fiction. Where I explore themes I care about through fiction. Where I explore justice and healing and hope through fiction.

Can I lose all this yet again?

It's possible.

But I realized yesterday that even when people hurt me, intentionally or unintentionally, I no longer face it alone. Yes, sure, I might be physically isolated due to my disability, but through the power of the Internet, I found community despite that.

My abuser sought to rip me from my communities, from my Legendfire Chosen family, and slowly kill me. She almost succeeded, and for a few years, she did succeed in killing the one joy in my life -- writing.

But I found that joy again.

And I found it in fanfiction. Yes, it is true that I am still too hurt to write original fiction yet. This haunts me still, but I'm a step closer.

I have rebuilt connections with other people. I've found a new community who have been kind and welcoming. Who put up with my weirdness and fractured mess of a mind, who listen when I overshare, who let me listen to them in turn, who write with me, who share supportive messages.

When I mess up, they give me grace, accept my apology, and we work through it. When they hurt me, I do my best to offer the same, to try not to let the trauma speak for me.

Because of them, I have a fighting chance at surviving any future painful events.

Never underestimate the power of your words. Never underestimate the power of your presence.

I am here today, writing this, because of people whose writing and kindness helped me weave my spirit together again.

And to those people, I will forever be thankful.

May they never forget how amazing, how awesome, and how powerful they truly are.

Take care, and keep on writing, friends.

[raedear]

Do you have any Joe/Nicky fic recs?

Do I ever, bestie.

Here are my bookmarks on ao3, which functions as a rec list really

Specific shout outs include:

He, Dreamless by @guarncre, which I read with a breathless hysteria I've never experienced in myself before

say the word (& I'll be your renaissance man) by @bewires. Everything by Lia, actually, but this happens to be my particular favourite that wasn't written as a gift for me.

If Never Again, If Every Day by @gallifreyburning & @takiki16. A true and proper gamechanger of a fic. Sets the standard we should all aspire to.

Leave the Window Open by superblackmarket, who has never missed even once in their life, their every fic is a joy

Continuity of Memory by AirgiodSLV, which I absolutely adore

i want to wear your sweater (i want to wear your ring) by @knoepfchen which is just flawlessly fuckin hilarious and wonderful. Once again, please read all of Laurel's fics.

some cupids kill with arrows (some with traps) by @nicolos surely everyone has to know by this point that soulmates of any fashion are my kryptonite

honey i’m lovedrunk (it’s what you do to me) by @maddielle, which was the first fic of Maddie's I read and I hadn't even finished it before I subscribed to her.

Exposure by @chinchillinator and its sequel of course, this whole series is such a balm to my soul in the face of the terrible fuckin gender politics I've seen in omegaverse fics. Legs never misses.

wherever you are and wherever you go by @werebearbearbar I can't read just one of melly's fics, I have to read them all like I'm eating my way through a family bag of crisps in one sitting, but this one literally changed the chemistry of my brain

this song is new to me by @captainshakespear entirely flawless ace!Joe fic. I think about it every single day.

Roll Initiative by @nanashi-07 never fails to have me in absolute bits, it's wonderful

the dark matter of you by @polarcell I still think Nicky should get to murder him a little. As a treat. For me. The emotions this fic inspires in me, good lord

Lionheart by @non-un-topo absolutely no one does a mystery like siggy, holy fuck. I was going to link Perferō but I think you should start at the start of the series and work your way through

whatever here that's left of me by asifnotbound. peach can absolutely do no wrong in my eyes and this fic showcases her fantastic range and emotional depth.

Old Olives by aeli_kindara I love this fic so fucking much

Ten Ounces by @the73rdpostscript do I think of this fic every goddamn day? Yes. Yes I do. Read postie's fics I swear to fuck.

nothing here that is not sacred by @sixth-light. No one does it like sixth-light. No one. This just happens to have demi!Joe and I'm so outrageously here for that, but please just consider this the jumping off point for reading everything she's ever written.

Recover what was lost by @pinkninjapj, a stunning change of pace for me here, I know. Anyone who's ever talked to me for more than ten minutes knows my heart beats Retrograde, but I need to show love to Recover as well, which I have read easily a dozen times.

Shattered Pieces by AraSigyrn. I think of this fic every goddamn day.

with every inch of my heart by @smilebackwards what if Nicky had a Michelangelo and I cried about it many times????

walk inland by ScribeofArda fucking hell this fic does me in each time and I ADORE it

Departures by spqr I can't even BEGIN to tell you how much I love this fic. It makes me see shrimp colours.

In Pursuit of the Best Taste by PastyPirate they're rival bakers!!! It makes me so happy!!!!

This list is definitely not exhaustive, we'd be here forever if I listed every fic in this fandom I love. I've absolutely forgotten top tier fics and writers, but they're in my bookmarks for sure. Please go through all the authors' back catalogues too, because there is so much wonderful work in this fandom.

[sundrop-writes]

Missing You

Gar Logan x Fem!Reader x Jason Todd

Summary:

Gar misses his two best friends. When he calls the two of you, he certainly doesn’t expect to find you in such a… compromising situation.

Gar Logan x Fem!Reader x Jason Todd. Accidental Voyeurism. Smut. Canon Divergent AU of Season 2.

Word Count: 2,800

DC Titans Masterlist | AO3 Link

THIS IS A RE-POST. This is a fic from my old blog (a blog that was shadowbanned, forcing me to move). This fic is not stolen, it is completely mine, and I am just re-posting it to help people find my new blog, and to make my masterlist complete when I post new fics for this fandom.

Detailed warnings and author’s notes below the cut.

Warnings: there is a lot of Gar/Jason (emotionally and sexually), dubious consent - Gar listens to the reader and Jason having sex without their consent (but they don’t mind when they do find out), invasion of privacy (but again, they don’t mind it), would this be considered eavesdropping?, accidental voyeurism (and then on purpose voyeurism), Gar masturbates while listening to Jason and the reader have sex over a FaceTime call but Jason and the reader don’t know Gar is listening, Gar feels slightly guilty about being horny in this situation, lots of dirty talk, Jason is more dominant, reader is definitely submissive, Gar is (slightly?) submissive (though he is not ‘involved’ for most of the sex act), the reader uses she/her pronouns and has a vagina (though she is not really the ‘center’ of this fic), Jason has a filthy mouth, p in v sex (between Jason and reader) - actually protected sex this time (which is a surprise for my fics) (it’s my headcanon that Jason is a big proponent for condoms/safe sex), degradation kink (towards the reader), terms used to describe the reader: slutty/slut, cocksleeve, hole, fucktoy/toy, cumdump, good girl; slightly possessive Jason (but it’s clear that he doesn’t mind sharing with Gar), spanking (very light, no severe pain kink) - mention of clit spanking, mention of orgasm restriction, mentions of sexting/sending nudes. I believe that’s everything.

A/N: This is a repost. Again, to complete my Titans Masterlist on this blog. I did some tweaking to it, but it is still mostly the same. So if you have read it before, I hope you enjoy it. And if it’s your first time reading it, I hope you like it again.

...

The concept of butt-dailing was something that still mystified Gar. 

He understood why it was a thing in the 2000s, sure. A time when people’s phones still had tactile buttons on them, when you could sit on your phone in your back pocket and start pressing things by accident. But these days? Why was the term even still used? 

How can you call someone by accident? How can you have an entire phone conversation with someone by mistake? 

On that day, it hadn’t been Jason that called him - no, Gar was the one calling Jason. 

Gar hated to admit it, but he was fucking lonely. He had a soft heart and if he went too long without talking to his friends, without hearing their laughter, then he wilted like an unwatered plant. It wasn’t something that he ever said aloud, but it was something that was very easy to tell for the people who were closest to him. 

So Jason had taken to calling him on a regular basis. And ironically, because of it, the two had actually grown a lot closer in the Robin’s absence. 

Their friendship bloomed because of the long, late-night phone calls where Jason’s tired voice mumbled things to Gar as he fell asleep, admitting things about his past and the pain he sometimes felt that he never would have told anyone else. And they often spent hours on Discord calls as they kicked ass together playing COD or some other stupid game like Mount Your Friends. Even though on that day the Tower was practically empty, Gar found himself missing Jason the most. 

Ever since you had gone to Gotham to visit Jason, Gar’s other closest friend abandoning him, Gar had practically gone mad with loneliness. Rachel was off on a ‘girls trip’ with Donna, Dawn, and Kory, and Dick was attending some kind of ‘League’ business. Hank was leading a ‘be a better you’ sobriety seminar in another city, and Gar still found himself feeling like an outsider when hanging out with Rose and Jericho. 

So where did that leave him? 

Alone in his room, sprawled out on his bed. 

He had thumbed over Jason’s contact in his phone several times before he actually decided to put in his earbuds and give the guy a call. Surely his best friend wouldn’t consider him needy after the three hour long timestamps on their other calls. If Jason was busy, Gar could simply find something else to entertain himself. He could probably best his Resident Evil speedruns. Again. 

But selfishly, he was hoping Jason would pick up and talk to him for a while. Maybe you would be lounging around with Jason and he would get to talk to the both of you. That would be really nice. 

When the FaceTime call was answered on the other end, the screen was dark. Gar thought for a moment that Jason was just busy - that he was pressing his phone to his chest until he could get into another room to take the call. But for a few moments, all he heard was deep breathing, some grunting. The sound of Jason training? 

He was definitely inside Jason’s pocket. 

See, Jason hadn’t even noticed the incoming call. He had his phone on silent, and he had answered it completely by mistake. Turns out, the rapid, rhythmic thrusting of his hips had somehow successfully pressed the ‘answer’ button, even with the phone shoved deep in his back pocket. 

And Jason wasn’t really in a position to have a friendly, ‘let’s chat about COD’ video chat with his best friend. 

He was balls-deep inside of you. With his thick, hard cock out through the zipper of his pants with his phone still inside of his back pocket. He was thrusting into you where you were face down on his bed, on your knees exactly how he wanted you. 

It was a huge part of the reason you had come to visit him. The two of you had been fooling around for as long as you had known each other, and you couldn’t seem to go for very long without fucking the other person. It brought you both relief from your stressful vigilante lifestyle, and it was the best sex either of you ever had. Not that any of your friends knew that you had a ‘thing’ going on, of course. 

Gar was about to hang up the call, believing that he had caught Jason at a bad time and realizing that the guy didn’t even know his phone was on. But he froze completely still when he heard it. 

“Fuck, babe, take my cock.” Jason groaned, his voice absolutely thick with sex. “Fucking take it.” 

It was something that instantly made Gar tremble, made blood rush to his cock as he heard his friend’s voice in a way that he never had before. The sound was rough in his headphones, distant and not nearly as pure as it would have been in person. But it made Gar’s blood run hot in seconds, made him so turned on so quickly that he became dizzy. 

Gar’s hand itched to reach down and grip his cock through his pants, but he knew that he shouldn’t. He knew it was wrong. He should just hang up the call and hope that Jason never saw it in his call history. The longer he stayed there and listened, the more suspicious the timestamp would look in the call history if Jason ever saw it. 

But Gar was frozen in his tracks when he heard something that absolutely made his head spin. 

“Yes!” It was your voice. “Fuck, I fucking love your cock. I’m just a slutty little cocksleeve for you, Jay!” 

High pitched and needy, moaning out - it was you. You, screaming those entirely pornographic words, followed by a deep grunt from Jason. 

Gar let out a sharp breath. It hadn’t occurred to him who Jason might be fucking. Or that he was fucking someone at all, and that he wasn’t just alone, fucking his own hand. 

Gar almost couldn’t believe that this was happening. The two people that he had been attracted to for so long now, playing out an epic sex fantasy for his own ears. He knew that it was so horribly wrong, but he probably wouldn’t have hung up the call if someone had pointed a gun to his head. 

“Yeah, you are.” Jason replied, his voice slightly obscured from the phone being in his pocket. “You’re my perfect slut. Such a good fucktoy, aren’t you, Y/N?” 

Jason saying your name with such a deep, possessive need, paired with the way he spoke so confidentially - it forced Gar to imagine how long the two of you had been in a relationship like this. How long the two of you had been playing around behind everyone’s backs to know each other’s kinks so well without crossing any boundaries. Even with his brain so lust-clouded, his thoughts flashed through all of the times you and Jason had snuck off together, or made lame excuses to go to bed early when Jason had still been living at the Tower. 

Gar was upset that he hadn’t found out about this sooner. His brain conjured up a fantasy of him sneaking into Jason’s room late at night, and seeing you on your knees for his best friend. He easily imagined Jason inviting him to stay, telling Gar what a slut you were, how much you would love to have two guys at once. Him and Jason passing you around, your wetness making both of their cocks shine. If you were the ‘fucktoy’ that he claimed you to be, it probably wouldn’t be that far from reality. 

There was a wet, slapping sound - Jason fucking into you harder as you moaned and struggled for breath. 

Gar’s cock pulsed with need. 

Something in the back of his brain screamed that it was wrong and that he needed to hang up, but his cock screamed louder. So he untied the string of his pants with haste and racked them down over his aching balls. Just to be safe, he muted his end of the call so that Jason wouldn’t hear any noises he made. 

(If he had been thinking a bit clearer, he would have realized that any noise he made, especially echoing into Jason’s back pocket, would have simply gotten lost in the haze of sweat and sex that the two of you were making in Jason’s bedroom. But - better safe than sorry, right?) 

In his mind, muting the call seemed even more reasonable when he let out a deep moan the second he took his hard dick into his hand. More beautiful sounds from you and Jason came in through his headphones as he began to jerk himself off. 

“Fucking love how you take my cock, fucking love how this slutty pussy gets so wet for me.”

Jason’s dirty mouth continued as Gar’s hand started a steady rhythm. Gar was already leaking precum that easily slicked him up - he was absolutely dizzy at the sound of Jason’s sex-graveled voice. 

“Just a fucking hole for me to cum in.” Jason growled. “You love it, don’t you? You love being my fucking toy. My fucking cumdump.” 

The pure filth coming out of Jason’s mouth surprised Gar, just as much as his own reaction did. The way his dick jumped in his hand and his lungs released a moan, his tip leaking even more precum at the words. He had no fucking idea that you and Jason were so dirty, that you liked being… degraded so much. Because clearly you loved it, with the wailing moan that you echoed back in response. 

“I love it!” You told Jason, your tone desperate and breathy, worn with sex. “I love being your cumdump. I’m just a hole for you to use!” 

Gar tried to imagine what the two of you might look like in that moment. Were you on your back, your legs spread wide for Jason? Were you completely naked with your tits swaying with his every thrust? Were you on your hands and knees, ass out like a bitch in heat for Jason? 

Gar pumped his cock faster at the thought, his precum making it sound absolutely slick, unrestrained grunts coming from his parted lips as he continued to listen you and Jason fuck. He would feel guilty for this later, but right now, he was absolutely dizzy with lust and needed to hear more. 

“You gonna cum on my cock, slut?” Jason’s voice was sharp, demanding. 

It sounded like Jason was holding back the urge to cum himself and he needed you to get there first. There was a sharp sound - skin hitting skin, higher in pitch and less muffled than the constant pounding of Jason into your cunt. Jason had spanked you. Gar’s orgasm swelled in his belly as he imagined Jason’s hand coming down against your skin, making the fat of your ass bounce or - fuck, Jason’s hand blooming against your wet clit. (Gar hated that he would never know which it actually was.) 

“Be a good girl. Cum for me.” Jason demanded, throat strangling his voice as he drowned in his own arousal. 

And just like that, you dissolved into a fury of sounds. Gar caught you chanting ‘I’m a hole! I’m a hole! I’m a hole!’ as though it was the only thing on your mind, increasing in volume as your orgasm overtook you, but it was muffled after a moment and Gar heard Jason grunt the words ‘shut up’ in the most sharp, dangerous voice he had ever heard from his best friend. 

Gar’s mind was immediately struck with the picture of Jason’s hand on the back of your head, shoving you into the bed to quiet your whorish moaning, and this was what sent him over the edge. His stomach curled so hard that it practically made him nauseous, his body drawing up off the bed as he pumped his cock hard and fast. He pumped himself dry as cum splashed up over his (thankfully) naked stomach and dirtied him in hot, white waves. 

Gar’s body was still trembling when he heard Jason rattle out a shuddering moan, a sure sign that he was cumming too. 

Gar should have rushed to end the call. 

But it seemed impossible to move at this point - his bones were practically made out of jelly from the intensity of his orgasm. The hand holding the phone had dropped it against his chest, the sound still coming in clear from his earbuds. He was desperate to catch his breath, and his cum still warm against his stomach when he heard it. 

There was a shifting, a rustling sound - fuck, Jason was taking his phone out of his pocket. 

Gar panicked. 

But his orgasm had been so spectacular that it had knocked all the sense out of him, including his usually good reflexes, so he was slow to pick his phone back up. When he did, his heart jumped in his chest when he found Jason staring at him, wearing a wide smirk. 

In the time it had taken Gar to recover, Jason had taken his phone out - with the original purpose to check the time. Alfred always had a very specific time for dinner, and always became cranky if anyone was late. Jason certainly didn’t need anyone to come looking for you and him, seeing the compromising position that you found yourselves in. 

Jason was surprised when he found the call with Gar going. And once he had checked the timestamp on the still ongoing call, he immediately knew what had happened. 

“Did you enjoy the show?” Jason said, his voice slightly rough from the sex, but entirely confident, unshaken. 

“Uh - I - I -” Gar stuttered. 

When Jason saw his lips moving and didn’t hear any sound, he quickly spoke up. 

“Unmute the call, dickhead.” Jason told him, giving a small chuckle with the offensive, affectionate nickname. 

Right. Gar had muted it to participate in his perverted voyeurism. 

As Gar reached up to find the button, he realized his hand was still covered in cum. 

Jason licked his lips as he saw substance smeared all over Gar’s palm and saw his friend reaching for tissues off to the side. As Gar raced to clean off his hand, you appeared behind Jason’s shoulder in the frame of the call. You were wearing a bra, your skin slightly slicked with sweat and tear tracks coming off the side of your eyes - clearly from pleasure and not from pain. 

“You had Gar on a FaceTime call?” Your tone was a breathy giggle, clearly not at all upset at the idea that your friend had been listening in on you being fucked and called degrading names. “Kinky. Did you call him while you were putting the condom on?” 

Gar unmuted the call with his now clean(er) hand, but waited in silence for you and Jason to finish your conversation. He was surprised that you didn’t seem to care; that you seemed to think it was some kind of pre-planned kink that Jason had executed. Gar’s stomach twisted at the thought of it, that you and Jason had discussed inviting another person into your sex life and you were more than okay with it being Gar. 

“Don’t worry your pretty little head about it.” Jason told you. “Go get cleaned up for dinner.” 

You simply nodded, and leaned in to give Jason a kiss - a soft, gentle sight that was entirely arousing in contrast to the rough, filthy sex that Gar knew the two of you just had. It was even more arousing when you walked out of frame and Gar heard another spank to your bare skin (clearly you weren’t wearing bottoms) - and heard you let out a delighted squeak in response. 

“Look, I can explain-” Gar began his groveling, but Jason quickly cut him off. 

“Quiet.” Jason said, his tone taking on a kind of authority that made Gar’s stomach jump. “Next time this happens, we get to watch you cum, or you don’t get to cum at all. Got it?” 

Gar’s cock was quickly filling with blood again at Jason speaking to him this way, so boldly, making sexual demands over his body. His mouth was dry and lost for words so he simply nodded in response. He opened his mouth to attempt to speak - to apologize, to ask for clarity, to ask Jason when ‘the next time’ would be. 

But now that Jason had Gar’s simple affirmation, he hung up the call. 

Gar - unable to help himself - stretched an arm out and took a picture of his half hard cock and his shirtless body, still covered in his cum. He hesitated to send it, though. After a long mental debate in the shower, it came back to his phone sitting on his nightstand, and sent it to Jason with a caption that read ‘I really did enjoy the show’. 

It pinged Jason’s phone when he was sitting at the dinner table with you and Bruce. And as he looked at it under the table, he choked on his peas.

[caelanglang]

Who are your fav skk fanfic writers and why? Do you have their works that you love the most that you don't mind sharing here? 💘

this... this is such a hard question, *brings out a whole safe of records* /j (no srsly it's gonna be a long read--)

Here are a list of authors i really like :3 Their ao3 links/handles are:

the_most_happy: love how emotional their work can be! they have smut and fluff works, and most of all—which i think the the most delicious one, is the way they write angst <3 I actually made a bunch of fanart for their fics/aus when I was just getting into the fandom :3 They're writing is like going into a spicy sexy emotinal adventure... idk how else to describe it xD my fav fic of theirs... augh so hard to choose... In Loving Memory caught me so off guard (cuz i forgot to read the tags and immediately dived into it the moment i saw their post about it hhhh)

forest_racoon: The fluff and softness and magic in their writing is so good! I love the energy and comedy and seriousness and everything in their writing! it's always so fun to pick up any of their works~ Don't be tricked tho,, the angst they deliver have the same gravity ToT it's just so... augh... I first found them through Plate :( and have reread it several times (please check out their other works too it's all so amazing!!)

devilrin: love how she writes. period. the emotions and the poetic energy of it?? the angst?? so. good. the skk energy in their writing is more mellow(?) it feels more realistic—it's like watching people instead of characters ;w; (very cool how she world builds an entire life outside of her fic for her characters actually, got to witness the behind the scenes first hand myself its pretty insane to me) The fic that ruined me tho is Down to a Sunless Sea (which is so angsty im so--)

themadtree: The energy in their writing is just so amazing. it's very hard to stop mid-way! The dialogue feels very fun and engaging and you really get very attached to the characters because of how energetic and full of life they are. Whimsical is the best word I can think of to describe the reading experience of their work :3 They made a bunch of fun aus; their brain is just so amazing (pirate au and avatar au like broooooo) My favorite is Mors Vincit Omnia (yummy pirate au!)

StarshipDancer: one of the first ao3 writers whose name i decided to remember by heart (which means a lot considering how bad i am with names) because they are my most searched user in ao3 xD The fluff is just so addicting. The sillies and shenanegans are so on point for me, idk it just scratch this itch so perfectly in my brain. I draw a of inspiration from my skk sketches from their works actually :3!! READ EVERYTHING THEY HAVE PLS ITS ALL SO GOOD (you should check the fluff week collection augh) Without Words is one of my most reread ones... I think... I reread a lot of their works tho...

setosdarkness: let's be honest. i think everyone whose dived into ao3 skk just knows her alreayd xD she's such a kween for that, making sure we are so well fed with so much fun skk writing. Her works are so fun to read! Very comedic and has such similar energy to the gag moments and bickering and shenanigans of the anime skk for me idk why. I love how fun and unique each fic scenarios are :3 (no srsly you'll never run out of food made with so much love by athina-san)

xLillyle: I am working with Lilly for a Fullmetal Alchemist Brotherhood skk au!! (its Royai skk BUT it's also beast!skk) it's been so exciting to work with her :3!! You can check some of the teasers here. She made an iwaoi!skk fic recently so if that's you're type hehe *starts bawling*

there are lots of other amazing authors there but these are the ones that came to mind and i am most familiar with for now :3 Here are some other fics ~~

When I Awake: Ghost(?) Writer Dazai and Musician Chuuya. yummy angst. silly skk

castle out of couches: My favorite domestic fluff skk. it's my must read. Halfbloom is such a master of the fluff in comedic tone and capturing that skk domestic softness idk how they do it. it's just so good.

In One of the Stars I shall be Living: A sweetheart wrote a fic about my little prince skk au TT it's so well written and I am so in love with all the references and angst ueueue

Five Steps: My favorite skk knight x prince au TT

The Best Worst Thing: Another sweetheart wrote a fic based on my silly sketches ;w; it's so cute waaaaaa

okay. i am. so sorry for the long answer. I just love a lot of stuffs from these incredible writers. feel free to drop by again :3 these are the ones that comes to my mind first so i may have missed out on a bunch oop

[lullabyes22-blog]

Dropping in just to tell you how much I LOVE your Sevika x Silco portrayal. I never considered Sevilco a ship before reading your fics but you make them work so well, and I really like that you gave Sevika so much more backstory and character development. As a desi girl, I also appreciate your Sevika giving us desi rep and making it so relatable and believable. The kavya, the payasam, the bidi, I can feel her being desi on my skin, lol.

And for Silco, you make him such a hot bastard, it's unbelievable.

As someone who's a huge Grishaverse fan, they're giving Kaz x Inej vibes. I think you mentioned reading Six of Crows so I believe you're familiar with the duo, but I can really see similarities between Kaz and Silco. They're both badass villains, they're both dark and twisted and have done questionable things, they both have an intense obsession with destroying a rich and corrupt society and replacing it with something better. Also Inej and Sevika are both poc women who can kick ass and they both have a complicated relationship with the men they love. I love Kaz and Inej to death but if they were a little darker and older, they could totally be Silco and Sevika.

I'm sorry, I'm rambling, but I wanted to share. Keep up the amazing writing! I hope you write a lot more Sevilco fics. You've become one of my favorite Arcane authors, and I look forward to your updates.

Thank you so much<333

I'm so glad you're enjoying Sevika and Silco content. They've been a weird 'sleeper hit' with certain pockets of the fandom (and horrified a few others) and I'm really happy the ship's being considered as a viable option.

I really did want to try and give Sevika a bit more depth re: her family, motivations and flaws, simply because there's so much (justifiable) thirst for her character as a hot mama, and plenty of 'yas queen'ing everytime she does something terrible - but not a lot of consideration for the human, complex, flawed person behind the muscle, and why she'd choose to throw in her lot with Silco and stake everything on Zaun.

I'm also so pleased the representation feels authentic - I'm basing Zaun on RL Manchester in some ways, and Queens NYC in others - both of which are very diverse, with a huge South Asian presence. If FnF was taking place IRL, Silco would've been a no-good-bounding English boy of working-class immigrant parents (probs half-French, half-German) growing up with his best friend Vander (also of German descent with a little Greek thrown in) and Sevika and Nandi would've hailed from the nearby South Indian community, all set in the 1980s. The boy would've known his way around a good plate of biryani, though I doubt Nandi would've let him within 100m of her kitchen, let alone into her bed.

Sevika, on the other hand, would've hung out with him aaaaaall the time, just so she could bum his cigarettes and booze, and snog questionable girls behind the local pub.

(He would've paid her a tenner so he could watch her and her mate snog at his twenty-fifth birthday party. She'd have agreed, and maybe tried to goad him into joining in…)

Roflmao I do remember reading SoC, but it was very long ago, and I was a bit old for the 'young adult' genre by then. I did enjoy Kaz x Inej, although the dynamics would be somewhat different, and in many ways, far less toxic: none of this 'let the monster out' nonsense as Inej wants Kaz to be a better person, not a more ruthless one.

But really, all things aside, this is all I can think of whenever I see the comparison made:

Also we fuck. A lot.

Thank you so much, and I'm very happy you're enjoying the story<333

[sarcasticsciencefictionwriter]

In the vein of posts about commenting on AO3 and the comments on those about being fanfiction authors being needy and selfish, I'd like everyone to see this.

Every AO3 author has a statistics page, for those of you who don't know. We get to see everything related to our stories and, basically, how they're received.

It looks like this:

Here, we have the overall breakdown of one author (in this case, of 107 stories). You'll notice right away that the statistics are incredibly skewed.

2,349 kudos to 26,841 hits, 519 comment threads to 26,841 hits. Even factoring in multi-chapter stories and rereads (of one-shots or otherwise) these numbers do not even out.

We'll allow lack of popularity in certain fandoms, readers genuinely not liking a story, and those who left before finishing to be considered, but that still should not affect the numbers so vastly.

This is why comments are so important to authors.

We can see how many times our stories have been read overall; we can see how our writing is being treated as content that is expected to be there rather than art we put effort into for free.

I know not everyone has the energy or mentality to comment all the time and that's okay. Even just hitting the kudos button is great!

But treating reading fics as a hit-and-run does effect the authors.

We see that we put something out there and that it has been read over and over. But we also see that no one appreciated it or felt we were worthy of the time to leave appreciation.

It also effects us because people will sort stories and deem their 'worth' by kudos and comments and assume because they aren't there, the work is no good.

I hope seeing the numbers laid out makes people understand better.

If anyone reblogs this and is comfortable doing so, feel free to add a shot of your statistics so people can really see why there are so many posts about commenting on AO3.