#bulk update fics

[the-lone-huntress]

So, I keep seeing people talking about wanting to bulk update their fic settings to be viewable for registered users only. This feature actually can be found in your AO3 settings and while this might not be a very glamourous infographic, it is fairly easy to do.

[grassbreads]

Hey besties, remember when I used to write Homestuck fic?

It's been a while, but I never did forget ;P. Here's a link to the newly posted chapter 5 of A Hermit's Guide to Moving Forward. That's my long-running, slow-updating story about Aradia and John getting stuck together in a lighthouse.

If the tale of a young lighthouse keeper fishing a corpse out of the ocean and gaining both a new roommate and a new perspective on his depression sounds interesting to you, consider this fic! You can check it out from the beginning here.

[ao3dorian-gay]

this is ur update schedule on bar prepping vs once it’s done

[boop-le-snoot]

masterlist

dirt

sundress+no panties+daryl = uh oh...

title and soundtrack is dirt by depeche mode. you need to take depeche mode away from me tbh, I'm hung up on the exciter album writing smut when I should be making updates to my negan and ironstrange fics.

I also headcanon daryl having huge fat swinging balls for some reason and I'm so sorry you had to read that I turn into an animal when I write daryl

cw: 18+, word count 3k. a little rough (butt slaps, some bites, he calls you a "bitch in heat" and a "slut" a couple of times - lovingly of course), a little pervy (you're fucking outside and daryl eats his own come out of your pussy+breeding kink if you squint really hard).

He reaches in, fingers curling around the bunched up, patterned cotton of the dress and his mind blanks. The low growling, he realises, is coming from his own mouth.

"The fuck, girl?"

You look at Daryl over your shoulder, where the bare skin has erupted in goosebumps from his hot, humid breath. "What?"

You sound annoyed, but there's a distinctive teasing undertone to it. Your eyes are narrowed a little too much. The corners of your cherry-tinted lips are tilted upwards.

"You ripped all my damn underwear, Daryl! What did you expect?" You grouch, breaking the second of still silence. "Can't just take a stroll to Victoria's Secret anymore, can I?" Seeing his face darken even more, you hastily add, "I got a couple I wear on runs."

You sound so cute when you're annoyed, Daryl thinks, but it's overshadowed by his blood rushing in his ears, hot and fast. His cock is still pulsing in his jeans and it demands to be released.

"So you jus' walkin' 'round with allat juicy ass hangin' out fo' all da men to sniff?" Daryl feels an urge to clarify to you, what is exactly you're doing, that he's upset with. "Cuz that's exactly what all them dawgs are fuckin' doin'!" He's jealous, of course he is, but most importantly, he doesn't trust any of the men as far as he can see them.

Hell, he isn't completely sure even Rick would pass on the opportunity to get an eyeful of your soft thighs, your scrumptious ass, or your fat cunt, for that matter.

Lord knows they're the juiciest fucking things he has seen in his whole entire miserable life. Just thinking about it makes his rock hard cock twitch and release a sad dribble of pre-cum in his pants.

"Exactly, your girl!" You declare, eyeroll audible in your voice. "Nobody's seein' me without my panties 'cept you."

Daryl's only response is to hitch up the sundress higher, the movement so quick, the fabric gives a sad crack as the seams threaten to burst. Your ass is still bare, still round and smooth as ever, nobody should have this sort of curves while they're in the middle of a damn apocalypse, he thinks, and sinks to his knees and sinks his teeth into the supple skin of your right ass cheek.

You yelp at the sharp pain. You squirm, your attempt at getting away, of course, futile: your hips and waist are firmly in his grasp. Rough fingertips dig into you, just shy of painful.

"There," Daryl inches back a bit, admiring the indentations left behind by his teeth. For someone who forgets to take care of himself most days, his teeth are surprisingly straight and white and strong. And he lets you feel it. "Now if any asshole decides to go nosin' where he shouldn't, there'll be a warnin'." Daryl sounds proud of himself, which is all and all - fair.

Once the initial shock subsides, your feel your cunt lips stick together even more as your arousal oozes out of them- and down your thighs, now that there isn't any fabric to contain it all. In all honesty, you did enjoy the occasional breeze that would waft up your skirt, even if it didn't offer much respite from the sweltering summer heat.

And Daryl is definitely not helping matters, either. He's like a damn furnace, pressed up against the back of your legs, all solid bulk, breathing hot and moist into your skin, every exhale going around the curve of your ass and disappearing between your legs. He knows it the moment that you shift in place, subtly trying to widen your stance even though there is nothing more you want than to rub your thighs together to provide relief to your swollen lips and throbbing clit.

He raises a hand, wide and open-palmed, and smacks your ass. "You're such a fuckin' slut," he grouses. And your first instinct is to gasp at the offense; you hide your grin in a lip bite. Yes, yes you are. And you know it. And he knows it. Your ass cheek jiggles as he gives it another well-aimed slap. "Lookit you," Daryl presses the issue, "drippin' wet." To hammer his point home, he takes a thick, fat finger and runs it along the seam of your cunt.

It glides easily. You shudder, biting back a moan. Your legs shake just a little, but Daryl notices - he always does - and his finger dips inside your lips. The rough, calloused fingertip swipes through your labia, stopping just short of your clit. You whine and he withdraws.

His numerous knives and tools clatter as he abruptly gets up.

"You wanna be fucked, huh?" Voice quiet, Daryl's front presses to your back with a malicious intent. The prominent bulge of his erection is pushing into your back. "Is that why you goin' round naked? So anybody coulda bend you over, anytime, huh?" He reaches around you, hand blindly nosing for your face. When he finds it, he wastes no time in prying your mouth open, sticking the damp finger inside.

Your own cunt, salty and tangy, blossoms on your tongue. The gesture makes you moan around his finger and him- he sticks another one in, keeping you quiet.

"Shut the fuck up," Daryl orders. The rasp in his voice makes your knees buck and your cunt weep and he knows it. His free hand moves at your back, and with the accompanying noises, you come to realise that he's opening his pants and hurrying to free his dick.

When the damp, silky tip touches the bare skin of your ass, your body reacts before you do. Your mouth wraps tighter around his fingers. Spit dribbles from the corners of your mouth and onto his wrist. Your back arches into his body. He is just as scalding as the sun beaming down from the sky.

Daryl pushes his fingers deeper into your mouth, holding them there until you gag. The motion makes your whole form spasm and shiver; his cock gives a responding jump of its own.

"Lookit you," he rasps directly into your ear, hot breath tickling the shell of it. "Like a fuckin' bitch in heat," he grabs the meat of your ass cheek, spreading you one-handed. His cockhead noses around the cleft, leaving a sticky trail behind itself. It dips near your cunt, adding your juices to the mix. "You want it so bad."

You do. You really, really do. But you know Daryl is mean. You love it when he's mean to you. When he is proud of the strength of his bulk, when his eyebrows draw tightly over his brilliant blue eyes and nothing, absolutely nothing can escape his predatory stare. You crane your neck, trying to look back at him, to plead with your eyes.

He gets it, because he always does. Daryl's fingers quickly leave your mouth, dragging a wet trail of spit down to your neck where his fingers wrap around it in a secure hold.

"You want it so bad, then fuckin' beg," he says the words and you immediately, greedily descend into the permitted depravity.

"Please, Daryl," your voice sounds hoarse, interrupted by hiccups as you struggle to swallow the saliva that had pooled in your mouth and around his fingers, "please, fuck me. I'll be good. Please."

You feel him fist his cock as it twitches; you can't help it, really, as you arch your back even more and push your ass against his rough hand. Immediately, he withdraws it, just to slap you again.

"You're a bitch in heat," he muses, but you can hear the beginnings of impatience in his voice. "Say it!"

He's never made you do that before. Wide-eyed and open-mouthed, you gasp, part shock part offense, until you feel a drop of fluid roll out over the outer lip of your cunt and fall and disappear somewhere below you. Then it's just lust. The kind that tints the whole world red and narrows your field of vision.

"Fuckin' say it!" Daryl demands, patience thin.

You wouldn't put it past him to just shove himself in at this point. "I'm... I'm a bi- I'm a bitch in heat," you hiccup, feeling your face flood with heat. "I'm a bitch in heat, please fuck me!"

You feel his lips tilt up just the tiniest bit against your ear before he reaches back for his cock and aims it at your cunt in a single, precise thrust. You gasp and mewl as he suddenly stops halfway through. Your cunt ripples and flexes and squeezes. Daryl drops his forehead onto your shoulder, panting.

"So fuckin' tight," he murmurs, mostly to himself. You're not - he knows better, he makes sure you're not before he even thinks about sticking it in - but you are. All that blood that went straight to your cunt the moment his breath caught up in his throat at the sight of your bare pussy - It's making your cunt swell all around him.

A pathetic mewl leaves your lips, your satisfaction incomplete. You wiggle, you arch, but Daryl is as unyielding as ever.

"You take what I give you," he growls, teeth bared like an animal against your ear. Nonetheless, you feel the tip of his cock kiss your cervix. Stars burst in your eyes. You are so full, practically bursting at the seam of your cunt where his fat balls rest against the stretched hole.

Slowly, Daryl withdraws, both of you hissing at the drag of his fat cock in your engorged cunt. You may be a bitch in heat but he's every bit the stud that is just as fervent and feral to breed you. His teeth creak as he pulls back completely, leaving just his weeping tip inside of you.

And then he slams home. And again. And again. And again.

With every powerful thrust of his hips, you gasp. Quiet, pleading moans is the limit of your vocal capacity. Mouth dry, the air gets trapped in the back of your throat as your lungs demand their due.

Daryl is unrelenting. His blunt fingernails drag over the skin of your throat, leaving marks in their wake, as he makes way to your mouth.

"This is what you wanted, slut?" He pants into your hair. "Be quiet. Be really fucking quiet unless you want everybody to see what kinda..." He inhales sharply, feeling your walls flutter at the flith dripping from his tongue.

And it shouldn't make you feel the way you feel. Those fucking words just add more accelerant to the fire in the pit of your stomach, spreading it from there and up, over your face. It flames. Your hand helplessly clutches the nearest surface as you attempt to brace yourself against his thrusts and the notion that anyone could see you.

Bent over something or another, dress hiked up to your waist and Daryl's hips pistoning in and out of you at a rapid pace. He didn't bother undressing save for letting his pants hang freely just below his cock and balls. Heavy, fat balls, littered with coarse dark hair, that slap against your cunt and your clit with a resounding smack every time he drives his cock inside of your cunt. The squelching noise it makes is obscene.

Another whine, and your pussy squeezes him once again, blind and hungry for release. You can feel it building steadily, deep within your abdomen.

"Fuck yeah," Daryl growls, "you fuckin' like this, don't 'cha?" He's gotten the hang of it: the dirty talk, he knows exactly how to get under your skin. He's a mean bastard with nothing close to dignity or self-respect. If anyone saw him, rutting into you, little more than two animals, he wouldn't, couldn't stop.

Daryl would stare them down up until his cock swelled and busted, depositing his seed inside your womb.

Your knees feel weak. It's getting harder and harder to keep up with him; seems like every pathetic whimper that leaves your lips only makes him meaner, stronger somehow. The grip of his hand on your hip is bruising. Daryl effectively wears you on his cock, submerging himself into the warm depths of your pulsing cunt over and over.

"Da-Daryl..." You gasp, you moan and you plead.

He doesn't stop. He merely handles you into a different angle, the one that hits that special spot inside of you with every powerful thrust. He is mean, but he is also fair.

"Gonna cream my cock?" He barely makes sense to himself, the words that his dry mouth garbles seem to have a mind of their own. "Gonna be good, girl? C'mon."

"Ah," you want to say yes, you want to affirm, but all that comes out of your mouth are garbled, unintelligible noises of pleasure. But Daryl sees it. It's in the way your arch becomes near-painful, body overtaking your mind. Even the slightest bit of pain blends into hot-blinding pleasure. You don't know where what ends and begins.

It begins somewhere behind your cunt. The contractions start slow and aching, and every punch of his cock to your guts intensifies the feeling tenfold, until every last inch of your cunt is squeezing around him in that same arduous, suckling rhythm. It's like your pussy is nursing at his cock, attempting to suck his life out of him and deposit it into you.

The pleasure is like a wall of fire and water. Your chest blooms with it, but your extremities swarm with pinpricks. Mouth parted in a silent scream, you sway forward, managing to catch yourself on your elbows at the last moment.

The man behind you doesn't care. He's way past caring, having had started chasing his release the moment your cunt enveloped his cock in a vice grip. The meat of it is sensitive and he spends the few inches to the finish line gracelessly mashing it inside of you, accompanied by the sound of wet flesh meeting even wetter, sloppier flesh.

"Take it, fuckin' take it," you hear him gasp through your stupor before that familiar, warm rush floods your cunt. His cock twitches, once, twice, three times, each forceful throb followed up by more and more seed being pumped into the depths of you.

Against your back, Daryl sags and pants out his excerption. Like a dog. His wet nose leaves sweat stains on your back where he nuzzles into you.

Your knees shake as you struggle to hold up his weight, and then your legs completely turn to mush when droplets of his cum escape your cunt as his spent cock slips out. You know you should be worried about stains in unsightly places but somehow, you can't bring yourself to care.

Daryl notices this, of course. His bulk slides off you; you hear him quickly shove himself back into his pants before his ass hits the ground with a loud thud. Next to you, of course, his stubbly, prickly cheek rubbing over the skin of your leg. He places a wet kiss on the inside of your thigh, and then another.

You know the drill. It's hard for him to find words, sometimes, after a scene like that. It's the intensity of it, the forceful ejection of him out of his head where he spends most of the time, that renders him speechless. Daryl is forced to feel - good things. It's not something that he is used to.

Your skirt is still around your waist and the hot sun is shooting lasers directly at your ass and pussy. You've managed to get your bearings enough to feel at least a little self-conscious, a little exposed. Your combined fluid still drip from you and for a split second, you think about pulling up your panties to try and at least somewhat contain the mess.

Right, you sigh to yourself. It makes your exhausted body twitch and sag even more.

Daryl gently pushes away your hand that was attempting to pull the dress over your ass. You freeze; he smiles against your skin, a little closed-lipped grin that makes something warm and fuzzy make a nest inside your chest. That quickly turns into a startled gasp as his fingers glide through the mess of your cunt.

You're spent. Exhausted. So sensitive, his rough skin practically hurts on your hole and clit.

But Daryl gets it. You get him, and he - he gets you. His hot breath fans over your pubic hair and it's all the warning you get before he opens his mouth wide, flattens his tongue and licks. You've made a big mess and there is a lot to take care of, but if there's anything about Daryl that you know, is that he's thorough at what he does.

In no time, he's got his tongue shoved down your cunt as far as it would go, curling against your walls, lapping up his and your cum like your pussy is an all-you-can-eat-buffet and what's inside of it is sugar and spice and everything nice.

But it's not enough. It's not anywhere near your clit, or any other place that could make you produce more of the cream he's feasting on. Idly, you think about who's the real bitch in heat here, but push out your hips to meet his face nonetheless. You can be mean too. If you want to.

I don't know what to say for myself

[f-imaginings]

If you've just discovered Billford from the Book of Bill you'll enjoy:

Knowing Me Knowing You on ao3!

If you're looking for fanfic to read that hits on the key dynamics from the Book of Bill, (despite the bulk of the fic existing before the books release) look no further! In the interest of tooting my own horn, to celebrate the new chapter I'd like to recommend a fic inspired by ABBA BABBA's musical back catalogue!

If you read the book of bill and wanted to see more of:

toxic old man yaoi billford

pre-betrayal worshipful billford (plus canon typical gravity falls anomaly research and hijinks)

post betrayal angsty possession billford (with bonus BORD!)

interdimensional cat and mouse portal billford (catch me if you can!)

Stanford getting it on with a triangle (and a human bill pre-betrayal) in many weird and wonderful ways

complex relationship dynamics between Ford, Fiddleford and Bill

Institute of Oddology toxic fidd/author/bill side story

Heist after heist with the henchmaniacs

Ford's portal adventures!

Terrible jokes that will make you laugh anyway!

A power dynamic that levels the playing field (Ford in control) and then decimates the field altogether!

Ford fell first, Bill fell harder!

Fleshed out backstories for the wider cast in Gravity Falls and a story that respects everyone's agency!

A Billford fic that takes a break from the toxic ship to spend a chapter with Stanley pug smuggling in New Mexico

Morally ambiguous Jheselbraum with past connections to Bill

Lottocron 9 and the infinity sided dice (including Ford's trip to the M dimension! Hate that place!!!)

Then you might enjoy this fic! It's just updated, with more chapters on the way, so if you're ready for a journey into mystery, mayhem and mischief, strap yourself in!

*author's disclaimer - Book of Bill DID align exactly with my fanfic and I was not disappointed!

[nap-thym3]

Sebastian Solace(Pressure) x Reader/Self-Insert, Pt. 2

I actually turned that one-shot into a fic, so If you’d like to see more, I’ll be posting new updates on my ao3 :)

____________

The churning of the ocean, once a peaceful melody you may’ve played as white-noise, is now something that haunts your every waking breath. You can hear it even now. The whooshing of the currents, the bellowing of unseen gargantuan beasts, and the creaks and groans of the facility around you bending and bowing to the pressure of the torrential waters right outside.

Cautiously, you turn to survey the room surrounding yourself. The constant, oppressive darkness outside the thick windows doesn’t help your ramping unease. The idea that anything can be lurking in the inky depths, laying in wait for you to lower your guard. Watching, surveying. Hunting. Your palms sweat as your finger nails dig crescent imprints into your flesh. Every shuddering groan of the structure feels like another nail in your coffin. Darkly, you wonder just how many rooms- no, entire floors, have completely succumbed to the will of the sea by now. You can’t help but feel helpless, every avenue of your mind overtaken by the countless ways your life can be so quickly and effortlessly snuffed out.

What’s there not to be terrified of?

You scoff quietly. When you’d signed up for this gig, there was nowhere in the contracts explaining where exactly you’d be going. If you’d known the horrors residing in these waters, of being helplessly trapped thousands of feet where not even the sun can reach… you may’ve been a touch more hesitant to apply. Or who knows, maybe being confined to the same four-walled cell would’ve drove you here regardless. There was no point on dwelling on the millions of ‘what-ifs’. Your life was already considered forfeit, UrbanShade knew it, Sebastian knew it- hell, even the monsters knew so! It was only a matter of time before you were either swallowed whole, imploded, or drowned. The only one who seemed unable to get the memo was you.

You sigh, massaging your temples in a circular motion in an attempt to mitigate the encroaching migraine. There was no point in marinating in your own existential dread, you wouldn’t give UrbanShade nor its residents the satisfaction of breaking you. You’ve spent near your entire life bottling feelings up, old habits were hard to kick and you certainly weren’t going to try stopping them now.

A little more put together than a moment prior, you continue your journey. You were going to die soon. Maybe not right this second, but your chances of survival were incredibly slim, and you’d never considered yourself lucky or partial to gambling. The truth was plain and simple, inevitable. You were expendable and that was okay. It had to be. It must be. It will be.

Yawning, you passed through yet another sad-beige room. You must’ve opened twenty- no, maybe more like thirty doors?? Possibly??? Anyhow, point was, it was quiet. Disconcertingly so. The ambient hum of the overhead lights droning on had been slowly chipping away at your resolve. It was worrying how long you’ve gone without encountering any threats. Suspicious, even. Not once had you needed to make a detour, or find a key-card to progress. Rifling through the numerous desks in this zone hadn’t provided anything particularly useful either. Aside from the occasional ‘loose asset’ or two that you know The Merchant would be glad to take off of your hands. Oh, and a flash beacon! Though it was all-in-all a pretty lukewarm score. Regardless, you clipped the light-source onto your utility belt. You doubt you’d ever actually need it- not when you have your trusty flashlight and more batteries on hand than you could possibly ever need( Sebastian had given you an exponentially cheap price for those. Claiming it was more profitable to ‘sell them in bulk’ ). The monotonous repetition of pilfering office cubicles was mind-numbing, and you were sick of it.

Feeling frustrated, your pace quickens to that of a jog. Logically, you know you should be conserving your energy. It was reckless to be blindly racing through these halls, but you just couldn’t stand it anymore. If you had to die soon, so be it. But you weren’t going to just sit there like an appetizing bucket of chum and wait for death to come to you. You’d go down kicking and screaming.

Without you noticing it in your rising panic, your modest jog had turned into a run, and before you knew it, you were flying through rooms. Each one a never ending blur of the same layout. Cubicle, desk, door. Cubicle, desk, door. Cubicle, desk- chair? Chair!

Abruptly, you’re sent careening off-balance by an errant swivel-seat. When had that got there?Thankfully, you land on your side, the brunt force of your tumble distributing throughout your body evenly instead of in one specific location. Your expiration date could’ve been that much sooner if you’d somehow managed to break a bone. Stunned(kind of like how toddlers freeze before realizing if the situation calls for a meltdown or not), you remain curled in a fetal position on the floor, chest heaving with exertion. Remember when you said you weren’t an athletic individual? Yeah, that wasn’t an exaggeration.

A strangled wheeze erupts as you inch your hands up to your face, muffling your sounds of misery as pain ricochet’s throughout your body. It’d be one thing to land on carpet- but fuckity fuck, concrete?? Yeowch. God, you were so pathetic. This isn’t even the worst pain you’ve endured during your stay at the black-site. Maybe it was just your exhaustion, but all that big inner-monologuing over accepting your fate on your own terms and all that other melodramatic bogus- only to epically face-plant so soon afterwards? Ugh. Embarrassing. You lay motionless in a limp pile of limbs on the floor, gasping for air like a fish on land.

Slowly, you drag a palm down over your sweat-slicked face, before you rolling onto your front. Your ribcage digs into your organs, but you endure for the moment. Now that you’re not actively moving, you have a moment to catch your breath and scatter the panicked, adrenaline-filled haze that had clouded your mind.

As you lay there on the steadily, increasingly uncomfortable, hard floor; chin perched on your crossed arms, and epiphany strikes through you. This whole time, you’d been brainlessly pressing forward. Assuming there to be only the one way through. But when had this place ever been so simple? Perhaps all you needed was a new matter of perspective.

Just as the thought crossed your mind, your gaze snags on a vent-grille a little ways ahead of you. Similar in design to that of the ones you usually traverse through to visit Sebastian. Oh. Sebastian.

Thinking of the fish-man now, you’re filled with melancholy. Would he be upset if you just… didn’t return? The idea of Sebastian waiting for you to visit again but you never returning leaves a heavy feeling in your stomach. No, you couldn’t imagine him being so easily rattled by your disappearance, no matter how much you’d selfishly hope him to be. The more likely scenario, on the other hand? He probably wouldn’t even notice. The constant ebb and flow of UrbanShade volunteers was sure to prevent people like you from occupying his mind for any longer than necessary. And yet, even still knowing that the shopkeep realistically didn’t hold you in the same regard… you crave to be curled by his side. Goofing off and trading quips, stealing a few precious moments to yourself to pretend that everything was okay. Your brows up-turn, features scrunching not only in physical pain, but internal pain too. You had it bad. Whether it was a case of simply pack-bonding to the nearest individual, or (hopefully) something more akin to genuine connection remained yet to be seen.

Heartbeat no longer thudding in your chest, you rise up on scuffed knees, mildly cringing at the bloodied and torn fabric of your wetsuit. Without anymore fanfare, you crawl into the vent. Through a few winding turns you’re quickly spat out into, finally, a new room. Bouncing onto your feet, the heavy blast-door slides open, and you’re greeted by your typical scene rather than the looping office-space. You don’t waste anytime jumping through the frame, only twisting around in surprise when the door hurriedly slams closed. Well that’s odd, the doors normally stay open, no?

Confused, you watch as the screen, typically presenting the previous room’s number, is instead displaying a pixelated “>:(“

You incredulously snort, unsure how to proceed.

Deciding to err on the side of caution, you timidly shuffle before the entry-way.

“Hello?” You greet, yet it sounds more like a question. Honestly, you felt pretty ridiculous calling out to a door of all things.

The screen goes blank, nothing but a red, blinking cursor remaining stationary. What the fuck? Was someone actively hacking the screens? But why? How?? Were they friend or foe? Unsure, you wave a hand before the display. The cursor doesn’t move, nor do any new messages appear. A little perturbed, you rub your weary eyes. Was it a trick of the light? Or maybe a malfunction? Whatever the case may be, your intuition doesn’t like it. So far, it hasn’t led you astray. Wearily, you turn away from the peculiar door.

Walking down the corridor, you’re surrounded once again by thick plexiglass-glass. This time, however, it doesn’t just stop at little viewing windows. No, everything but the floor beneath your feet and the ceiling above was made of the same reinforced glass. You sway on your feet, suddenly nauseous and feeling entirely too exposed. You can feel your vision tunneling, everything except for the door ahead of you blurring out of focus like a low-resolution camera.

You feel as if you’re walking on a tight-rope, one step away from falling into the oppressive darkness on either side of you. Shakily, you try to focus your breathing. In and out. Concentrate on pulling oxygen. In and out .

So focused on what’s in front of you, you fail to notice as a sickly green light begins filter through the darkness.

Behind yourself, the odd little screen flickers back to life.

“Goodbye :)” It reads.

Sebastian, ever on the move, didn’t stay in one place for too long. Sure, there were a few, self-made outposts he frequented where he felt confident no friends would interrupt his business dealings. But he couldn’t rely entirely on the bumbling ex-convicts UrbanShade ‘hired’ to retrieve the information he sought. No, it was best that if he wanted things to get done right , he shouldn’t shuck the entirety of the workload onto the fools who didn’t even care for their cause. Which was exactly what he was doing.

His frequent routes through the complex weren’t typically above-ground. Neither did he rely too heavily on traversing through water. He was sore to admit it, but despite his genetic ‘enhancements’, there were much bigger fish than him lurking about the complex. Ones that didn’t bargain, nor were they nearly as susceptible to the ways of persuasion as humans were. No, just like him, his fellow test-subjects were nearly all carnivorous in nature. They all hungered so deeply, so ravenously that they rarely deigned to even take a moment to consider before lunging. No amount of shared trauma or sympathies were greater than the hollow of their stomachs. Sebastian’s expression sours.

His current path took him through the utility tunnels, a labyrinth of narrow, concrete halls that he had mapped out over countless excursions. Here, he was less likely to encounter any unwelcome reunions that roamed the more typical halls. His movements were swift and silent, honed by years of surviving in this underwater hellscape.

Body on auto-pilot, Sebastian’s thoughts drifted to you, as they so often did these days. Especially so since your last visit. Sebastian’s chest warms as he recalls the way you’d looked(admired, really) at him. As if he were anything but a monster. Of how you had called him pretty. How stupidly sincere you were, refusing to backtrack as any other sane person in your shoes would do- even as he gave you ample time to do so. He curses his tender heart, maybe the only part of him left that was well and truly human. Most days he wishes that the scientists who swapped his organs and irreparably altered his body would’ve taken his heart too. It certainly would’ve made things a lot easier.

As his mind circles back to you, a small flicker of concern breaches through the current of his thoughts. You were stubborn, he’d give you that, but how long could you really last down here? He knew UrbanShade’s plans, their blatant disregard for human life- er, life in general. Everyone down here was expendable, a pawn in their grand plan. He didn’t want to admit it, but he had grown… accustomed, of your visits. Of your banter and your resilience. It’s been so long since someone’s looked at him and seen anything else other than a ghastly experiment. You spoke with him, really spoke with him, not just at him. Plus, you didn’t even mind his crass attitude- hell! You even matched it more often than not. Most others in your place wouldn’t dare to rebuke his snark. In a cruel place devoid of connection, you were a rare exception.

He shook his head, clearing away any residual gooey ‘sentiments’. Sentimentality was a weakness he couldn’t afford. He had a mission, and attachments would only complicate things. Still, as he navigated the dark passageways, he couldn’t shake the tentative hope of being able to see you again. Wouldn’t that be nice?

There’s a great bellow somewhere above, undoubtedly from that of the ‘eyefestation’. It was one of the more ‘tame’ byproducts of the black-site’s experiments. Well, as tame as anything down here could be. It was sentient, for a start. Sebastian wasn’t sure by how much exactly, and didn’t particularly care- nor had the time to find out. What was important was that it was free of its enclosure now, all thanks to him.

Poor thing, it’s always been easily picked on by the humans. With a long, suffering sigh, Sebastian once again curses his bleeding heart. Soundlessly, he makes a detour to the upper levels.

[tinydefector]

BIOLIGHTS AND BLASCHKO

One of my transformers headcanons I haven't talked about outside of smut is Cybertronian biolight, biolumoneses, it works a few way, alot of bots are forged with little lines of lighting that glow under the cracks in their armor, it was actually something they used to use when bonding with another slowly changing the glow to be the blend of each other's colours. But in the war, a lot of the bots shut down the protocol for these lights, mainly for safety, mission, and stealth. But when they land on earth and see cars with bright LEDs on the under carriage, some will, on occasion, turn those systems back on. 

Another thing I don't bring up enough is the difference types of vision the bots have, I love the idea that one day the switch over to Ultra violet in hopes of tracking their human in a game but then they stop. It is like seeing their human in a different light (literally) they don't bring it up but of a night when they lay naked curled against the bots bulk their digits traces the ‘invisible’ tripes and lines that are only visible under UV. They started using that vision more to just drink in the beauty of the lines. 

Some will even get the marks painted to them and my favourite part is so many of the human's are unaware they even Have stripes and when the bots finally bring it up, confusion happens, a lot of Google searches. 

“I HAVE STRIPES AND YOU NEVER TOLD ME??” They ask their lover in a panic which makes the bot chuckle as they are lifted closer. Soft kisses pressed to their back. “Yes sweetspark you have stripes” they would mumble against the human's back before deciding it was a perfect opportunity. “I also have glowing lights that line the ridges of my armour.” They would state before loading up the system. Their lovers' eyes go wide as the very soft pulsing glow surfaces. “Woah…. Pretty” they would mutter in true awe. Both are just basking in each other's markings. But then the bot changes to black light, and its the first time the human gets to witness the markings of their skin. The Cybertronian gently traced them as they lay under the stars. The way their digits move across the markings jolts the human's memory. “You have been tracing them all this time?” They ask just barely above a whisper. 

Let me know if you would like to be added to tag list (tagged for every fic)

Taglist

@angelxcvxc

@saturnhas82moons

@kgonbeiden

@murkyponds

@autobot79

@buddee

@bubblyjoonjoon

@lovenotcomputed

Update: link for what I think the biolights look like

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Bittersweet 2

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc. 

Part of the Sweet and Spicy AU 

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk. 

18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you. 

Summary: Your startup business catches the eye of a powerful rival.

Character: Loki Laufeyson

Please comment and reblog if it’s not too much. I always love getting to chat about these stories and hearing all your ideas! You all are wonderful and loved.

It’s baking day. Your kitchen is stolid with the heat of the oven and the treats cooling on the counter. Your apartment has been converted into a pseudo chocolate factory; though you wouldn’t claim Wonka’s glory. You are certain to keep to food-safe standards however and so your morning began with sanitization, another two hours on top of a long day. 

It’s a few weeks out to the next show; a local festival that hosts all sorts of local shops, though the biggest attraction are the musical acts. Even so, you’re hustling as best as you can. You spent a portion of the baking show profit to get a kiosk in the mall for the holiday weekend. It’s a big deal, you expect a crowd and now you have an idea of how much you’ll need to bring. 

You sigh as you tally up what you have so far. You’ll be in the kitchen all week at this rate and you don’t think even then you’ll meet your set quota. You’ll still do well but you can’t help the echo of that man’s words. You’re hitting a wall on your own. 

And you’re running low on red cacao. You frown at the slack canvas bag. That’s another trip to the bulk seller down by the freeway but that’s so far out, it’ll eat at least an hour and a half off your day.  

He’s right. That pompous snakish man is right. You can’t keep up with the demand.  

No, you can. You’ll bake into the night if you have to. It’ll be cooler then, anyhow. You inventory your cupboards as the oven radiate with heat. You have a list. Tomorrow you can get to that but for now, you’ll start packaging the chocolates in the fridge. 

You count out the truffles and fudge squares precisely. Each one in a sleeve or a box. You’ll add all the little details later; a ribbon, a bow, a seal. You yawn at the repetition but aren’t bored by it. Having your own business isn’t exactly dull, if anything it’s tantalizingly stressful. 

Your tablet dings as the baking show you keep on stream quiets for the notification. The woman’s voice returns to full volume as you approach to check the icon in the margin. It’s from your online shop front. Between the physical work, you can’t forget about the healthy tide of orders coming in virtually. 

It adds to the weight on your shoulders. You slump and drag down the notification bar. It’s large order and before you can skim each item, another notification sweeps in. You tap the inquiry so that the message opens.  

The inquiry is labeled with the same order number that just came up. You squint. ‘...requires in-person to order address...’ You don’t do that. It isn’t an option but the customer’s tone comes of insistent even over text. They promise a gratuity and underline that they did pay for the expedited option. 

That’s the first position you’re hiring when you can make the space. A customer service representative because you hate this. You go back to review the full order. It’s a lot; a lot of baking and a lot of money. 

You’ll have to make it work yet there’s this needling voice in the back of your head, slithering and sharp, you can’t keep this up forever. 

🍫

Surely, it’s the wrong address.

You idle in your large SUV, the nearly two-decade old model puttering between the sleek modern cars the fill the spaces outside the luxurious storefront. You gulp as you peer up at the moniker. You recognise the brand and the logo. 

Black Snake. It’s some sort of trick. You should have been suspicious.

The chocolatier isn’t unknown to you beyond your encounter with its owner. While the headquarters are nestled right at the heart of your city, there are locations across the country and even a few international. The local start-up boomed onto the front page and you can’t say it had nothing to do with your own come up. You offer a more affordable option with the same premium taste. 

You suppose he doesn’t like the competition. You wouldn’t either but you put yourself out there against the Black Snake monopoly knowing you would be trudging uphill. You get out and try not to think too much. 

You unlock the hatch and take out the large box stamped with your business name; Sweet Nothings. You approach the front door, trying to see through the tinted windows that form the front wall, and it opens before you can reach it. Shoot, he’s expecting you. 

“Ah, right on time,” Loki greets as he checks his watch. “I see you’ve no branding on your vehicle.” 

You try not to cringe. He has an eye for detail. You bite down on your smile. 

“Hello again,” you try to act like his foreboding hasn’t haunted you for a week, “I have everything in here--” 

“I didn’t see a reselling clause on your terms of service,” he proclaims smugly, “these should be popular.” 

“Ah,” you hesitate as he steps out of the door to hold it open for you, “you’ve paid so I guess I can’t stop you.” 

“Mm, and how is business then? You are quick to respond. Can’t be very hectic, then.” 

You take the jab like a weathered boxer. You don’t flinch, you just keep going. You stride inside and look around. You carry the box to the empty space the counter. 

“As promised, I will transfer a fee for your trouble,” he follows quickly. 

“Thanks, uh, I should--” you face him as he blocks your path. 

“You’ve a pop-up. This coming weekend.” 

The advert is at the top of your online shop. Of course, he would know. His diligence is starting to eke you out. 

“I do,” you confirm, “so I should be off.” 

“Yes, you have much work to do. Tell me, how many ovens do you have going?” 

Your expression falls, “you spent all this money to mock me?” 

“No, I’m simply discussing business. Seeing as I am experienced, I thought I might offer some sage advice,” he flutters his long fingers. 

“I appreciate that, really, but I am running a business, same as you, so if you would like to discuss that, you are more than welcome to make a proper appointment with me. Like a business person.” 

He snickers at the slant in your voice, the tone that insists you’re legitimate like him. 

“I didn’t see that option on the store front,” he counters. 

“You have my card,” you sniff and step around him. “Feel free to let me know if you have any concerns about your order.” 

“Wait--” He calls after but you’re already halfway through the door. 

[tinypandacakes]

Banana Bread — Simon Riley x f!reader

1.7k words

Tags: Domestic fluff, established relationship, NSFW but not explicit, soft Simon, oral sex (f receiving, not described in detail)

A/N: Inspired by an ask from @chevygirl666 about Simon catching you dancing by yourself while cleaning. I was craving some softness ~ thinking about Simon coming home after a tough mission and the comfort you bring him 💕

Feel free to send me asks/ideas you’d like to see! sometimes I like to work on shorter things between fic updates :3

You blinked away the cobwebs of sleep as your eyes adjusted to the soft morning light streaming through the window, enjoying the hearth-like heat of Simon’s chest pressed against your back. It was so tempting to let yourself fall back into the creamy haze of sleep like this, to stretch out languidly in the shared warmth of a blanket cocoon.

You wanted to pretend the rest of the world didn’t exist just a little longer. But, you had chores awaiting you this morning, long overdue.

You slithered out from under a heavy arm slung around your waist, moving slowly so you didn’t wake him. Normally Simon was alert the second you so much as shifted in bed, eyes sharp in an instant, a firm forearm braced possessively across your middle — stay, mine. But this was the first morning back from a long deployment.

Weariness was etched at the edges of his eyes and the dark smudges beneath remained even after all the black paint had been wiped away. The corners of your mouth pulled down into a frown as you scanned his face, seeing a few tiny half-healed scratches peeking through five o’clock shadow. There was a new crease between his brows from being pinched together tightly for too long in the scowl he wore when he was stressed — maybe this had been an especially tough mission.

You’d let him sleep as long as he needed.

You imagined this was the first time in ages that he didn’t have to wake up just as the sun began to peek over the horizon, when the remaining chill of night was pulled into his lungs with his first cigarette of the day. You liked to think of him watching the sky lighten in cotton candy hues, enjoying a quiet moment to himself, catching up on your messages sent several time zones over—

waiting to return to something familiar and soft.

You stared at him as you hovered at the edge of the mattress, his blonde hair catching the sun in golden highlights, lashes near-translucent as they fanned over his cheekbones, lightly flushed pink. His cheeks were more hollow than you remembered, his arms leaner, abdomen flatter and more firm. Deployment always stole a bit of his bulk and softness. It had nearly stripped him bare this time, leaving only lean muscle, what was necessary to get the job done.

Your chest tightened at the sight of him.

Maybe you’d make banana bread this morning with those too-brown-to-eat bananas that had been sitting on your counter. Let him wake up to something warm and homemade to replace the little layer of softness you liked to see over his stomach. He joked once about how you were fattening him up, but underneath the teasing, you saw a flash of something that caused your heart to constrict. The bit of extra weight meant he was home, meant he was safe,

meant he was yours.

Your eyes slipped over the swell of his pecs to his side — you hadn’t yet asked about the bandage there, taped near the bottom of his ribcage. There hadn’t been time with the way he’d immediately opened the door last night, scooped you up, and brought you to bed, your mouth far too busy to ask those kinds of questions.

You reluctantly turned away from him and plucked up the clothing littered on the floor, the evidence of your reunion and shared passion. Last night, he’d hardly undressed you or himself before he was on you, hands nearly trembling with pent-up need, mouth devouring yours with a single-minded intensity that stole your breath — but you’d wanted to see all of him, feel all of him.

But now, the clothes all went into the hamper, except for his shirt. You slipped it over your head, oversized on you, smelling strongly of him, crushed pine and dew-laden cypress underneath the lingering scent of smoke and sweat. With a side-eyed glance toward the bed to make sure he wasn’t watching, you lifted the collar over your nose, inhaling deeply.

Your bare feet padded softly against the floor as you made your way to the kitchen, the soft cotton of his shirt swishing against your thighs. The stack of unwashed dishes in the sink mocked you, as did the takeout containers on the counter, flecks of fried rice hardened into the styrofoam. You went to make yourself a coffee, grimacing at the few remaining clean mugs in the cupboard.

Good thing you were cleaning today.

You slipped on your Bluetooth headphones and started some music as you began to work, first mixing up the batter for your banana bread while the oven heated up, then set to cleaning the new and old messes.

You placed your phone to the side next to your mug. Occasionally you sipped your drink or changed the song, but eventually you found a rhythm when one of your favorite songs came on. Your lips moved silently to the words as you wiped down the counter of some sticky spill, exaggerating the movement along with wide swings of your hips in time to the beat.

But just when you expected the song to end, it began again. You stood for a moment in confusion and went to check your phone only to find Simon standing at the end of the counter, a pair of grey sweatpants slung low over his hips, your phone gripped in his large palm.

You gave him a sheepish smile, happy to see him of course, but—

“Don’t stop, darlin’,” he said, voice gruff, still thick with sleep.

Heat blossomed across your face, embarrassment burning the tips of your ears at his discovery. You weren’t one for dancing usually, not unless there were a few stiff drinks involved — and the right company of course. But Simon’s brown eyes were fixed on you intently. There was no hint of mockery or teasing in the way his gaze dragged up and down your body, taking in the view of you clad only in his shirt.

When he met your eyes again, you saw something molten there, simmering low in earthen shades. Your stomach flipped. You hesitantly began to move a little and resumed cleaning as he’d requested, keenly aware of his stare boring into you, prickling the back of your neck. But soon you relaxed and reached to give your banana bread batter a quick stir.

Two large hands gripped your sides suddenly, nearly making you jump as they slid up and down, bunching your shirt up around your hips. Calloused fingers dug into your softness, denting where you were most plush. Warm breath tickled the nape of your neck as Simon bent to you. He plucked the buds out of your ears so the music began to play on your phone for both of you to hear.

“I like seeing you like this,” Simon rasped, pulling your body back against his, a firm wall of muscle. “So soft and sweet, wearin’ my shirt an’ all.”

It was immediately apparent how much he liked it, the thick length of him pressing right up against you, only restrained by a thin layer of woven fleece. His teeth sunk gently into the crook of your shoulder as you began to rock your hips in time to the music more confidently, swaying side to side with his guidance.

“Fuck, I missed you, doll,” he mumbled into your skin, pressing a line of kisses into the curve of your neck that had your ass pressing back against him. “It’s good to be home.”

“I missed you too,” you breathed, words skipping as one of his hands roamed around to the front of you, over your navel and across your soft tummy.

Toughened fingertips lowered between your thighs. “I can tell,” he said reverently.

Your head tilted back against his chest with a sigh when his hand found the same rhythm as the song. Cleaning was forgotten, all your tasks for the day a distant memory as you placed your hands over his, yours so much smaller and softer, not scarred or battered, highlighting the vast difference between your worlds.

But here, in your shared space, none of that mattered. It was just you, just him.

The song passed and moved on to something slower, and Simon guided you to lean forward until you were bent over the freshly wiped counter. He pushed your shirt up over your back and peppered the length of your spine with gentle kisses, hands gripping handfuls of your plump bottom. Simon’s lips found every bit of sensitive skin, all your favorite spots to be kissed as he worked his way down until he was on his knees. His mouth ended its journey with a tentative lick that had you rocking forward, locked in place between the countertop and him.

The now-preheated oven beeped, pulling your mind away from the moment and back onto your to-do list, the batter ready to be poured and baked.

“Oh! That’s—Let me go for a sec, just gotta put in the—”

You squeaked at the gentle nip at the back of your thigh, a warning and promise in one, firm hands keeping you right where he wanted you.

“Hush,” he mumbled, pressing a kiss to soothe the faint indent of his teeth.

“But it’ll literally only take two—”

Another stripe of his tongue over you had your words fading, dissipating into the oven-heated kitchen air. Your eyelids fluttered shut, lashes fanned out over flushed cheeks.

“Just…let me enjoy this, first, yeah?” he asked, words mumbled into soaked flesh. He rubbed his bristly cheek into the silken skin of your inner thigh. “Been waitin’ for this for weeks.”

“Mmhm,” you conceded, a wet, muffled sound with your mouth pressed into your forearm.

Simon was a man of his word — and he showed you exactly how much he had missed you, acutely attentive to every whimper, every twitch of your legs that told him there, right there. His lips and teeth and tongue proved his devotion, slowing only to tease you and work you back up until your hands were clawing at the countertop, knocking into the bowl beside you.

You pushed it aside and arched your back against the countertop, offering yourself fully. Simon squeezed you everywhere you were soft as he rose and pushed down his sweatpants. You peeked over your shoulder at him, lips stretched into an inviting smile.

The banana bread could wait — just a little longer.

Check out my AO3 or master list for more. :3

[luna-rainbow]

Stucky AO3 stats 2023

This year I pulled both "Year Created" and "Year Updated". "Year Created" data should stay static, hence any changes would indicate people backdating their fics or deleting them. The "Year Updated" one is dynamic (i.e. long fics or slow updating fics could span several years). I think "Year Created" provides a better snapshot of historical fandom activity, while "Year Updated" better reflects current fandom engagement.

As of today (14/01/2024), there are a total of 65629 Steve/Bucky fics on AO3.

An impressive 86% of the fics are marked as complete! There are 880 fics over the 100k mark! The sweet spot seems to be the 1000-5000 word short stories, which comprise 28,935 works.

As we know, Stucky is a worldwide phenomenon, and while English makes up the bulk of stories, there are plenty of works in other languages too.

Whether you're after something sweet or fluffy or smut-free...or something dark or horny or violent, or something in between, there's something for everyone.

And what can I say...we really want a soft epilogue (fluff) for our boys, but it's the angst and hurt/comfort that keeps us coming back. And who doesn't love some good Shrinkyclinks.

Data disclaimers - Numbers may be inflated by any polyships that are tagged also with the individual pairing combinations. - Stucky may not be the primary ship in the works listed, nor necessarily the focus of the story - Data is pulled from a logged in account. If people have blocked me or muted me that's always a possible source of error - The "year created" data is pulled from today, so any works deleted before today (and I know there has been quite a bit in the past few years) would not be reflected

[lilacxquartz]

Those Late Summer Nights | Chapter 8

Satoru Gojo × Fem!Reader × Suguru Geto

This is a dark/yandere fic that features upsetting themes and it is canon divergent. Updated every Wednesday.

ABOUT: You moved to Tokyo over the summer to take a teaching job. As you get settled in, you find yourself entangled in a toxic dynamic.

CHAPTER SUMMARY: Your father celebrated his birthday while Satoru kept up appearances. After the celebration, an unwelcome face shows up in your life again.

< Previous Chapter • Next Chapter >

8. Reunions

The next morning had finally arrived and it was time to get through one of your least favourite time of the year; a family celebration.

You dreaded spending time with your family during certain types of events. Birthdays, celebrations and national holidays all made up those times and each moment spent with your folks felt all the more bleaker than the last.

It was never a simple congratulations with a gift parted away, but it was rather taken seriously, as though you had a script to follow along and play your part right, lest it all came undone.

Just as you had feared also, your parents momentarily paused in their tracks when they spotted you exiting the guest house along with Satoru in tow but they never once referenced it when you were back inside the family home.

This both relieved you, but also scared you.

Satoru immediately found himself separated from you as the two of you were given things to do right away. Both you and your mother took on the bulk of the responsibilities as your father sat himself down with Satoru in his company, curious to talk to the guy.

Every time it came to celebrating anything at all, your father would resign his responsibilities and hand them all off to the women of the household, a certain type of repeated condition that cycled through your mother’s birthday as well as your own.

Opting out of celebrating either was not an option.

As such, you grew to resent your father for his continued silence within the house. Whether it was proven by words or actions, it remained abundantly clear just how he viewed the family dynamic.

Satoru, otherwise to his credit, did offer to help out as he claimed to be skillful when it came to preparing at least sweet things if that’s something that needed help but your father was quick to whisk him away, reminding him of the important of a well maintained household balance.

You wanted to say something about that but you found yourself biting your tongue as you resisted the urge to tell your father off for being too old fashioned.

You knew that Satoru’s mind wouldn’t be swayed so easily, but you still worried about how this all looked for you. On you.

It was a thought that quickly went away as you prepared the food with your mother instead in a strained albeit comfortable silence. Your relationship with your mother wasn’t the best, but you were a reflection of her in many ways. It left you wondering if you had similar dreams, stifled away by a common hindrance.

Occasional small talk would surface but beyond that point, the conversation remained dry. At times she would attempt to thread through the seams by asking you how you’re settling into the city, how you’re finding life by yourself—only for the string to never seal itself off again, leaving a lot left unsaid instead.

And after everything was finally ready and prepped to go, you excused yourself upstairs to change into something a little more suitable for the occasion. Satoru had also been encouraged to do the exact same.

You wore a dress for the event; it was a lot different than the one that Suguru gave you but it was much better fitting for the occasion at hand. A dusty sage green midi dress with semi long sleeves capping at the elbows, decorative buttons and cinching along the waist with long flowy skirting.

Satoru didn’t have to comment, he could have kept as quiet as Suguru did but he couldn’t resist in doing so anyway. His eyes scrolled over your body in a similar sort of way to his friend, but it didn’t feel as strangely looming.

“You look good,” he simply said as he sported something slightly more formal himself. His smile felt genuine as his tone possessed something flirty, however keeping himself in check around the company of your parents.

It didn’t take too long for the rest of your relatives to arrive either, quickly filling out the once quiet house with the drone of chatter instead. A combination of rarely seen aunts and uncles along with the nieces and nephews that scurried around the house as well as your one remaining grandparent.

In total, it was a crowd of an additional eight.

Satoru continued to play his part as he promised; borrowing the spotlight away from you and standing within it instead. He got along criminally well with the chattier aunts, gifting you some breathing room in the process.

He didn’t really mind doing so either, it’s what he promised you, after all.

The relief continued to settle as the dinner finally passed with the relatives that now made their way back home. The secondary comfort being that the worst to come was now finally over and you could be back in the city quite soon again.

Satoru quickly reunited with you as the day came to an end, not saying much to your parents as they retreated back upstairs for the evening.

“We should probably go and find that plum wine for Shoko, right?” he asked, pausing a little as he spoke, it was evening by now and this wasn’t a big town so he wondered if there was any time to begin with, “…If the shops aren’t closed, that is?”

“It’s the brewery in town that sells it,” you replied to him, “everything else is closed but they’re open up quite late.”

“Then that’s what we’ll do.” he smiled, feeling comfortable once again. He hoped to lift your spirits even if you were on the verge of feeling burnt out, grabbing onto your wrist and leading you outside.

You didn’t protest this a second time, figuring that some fresh air would be good for you.

***

The walk to the brewery took a little longer and by the time you got closer to the town square, the sun had already started to set, leaving the settlement basking in a warm orange glow as a thick floral scent wafted in the air.

Satoru personally found himself enjoying the quieter parts of your personality, walking alongside you just because. It was because of the comfort he felt around you that he stopped himself taking things too far, too soon.

Upon reaching the inner town where the supposed bustle usually was, it now seemed closer to being a ghost town rather than what you were used to further down in the country.

You guided Satoru into the brewery, leading him into an almost out of place looking interior—large wooden barrels filling out the interior with decorative dark beams sloping against the roof creating a rustic look.

His eyes wandered around the building as he took it all in, finally settling at the menu just over the counter. The speciality looked like it was beer currently although plum wine did have a spot on there too.

There was a choice to either order to take home or drink out of glasses in the beer garden just outside.

You initially had offered to pay for the bottle because it was something Shoko asked from you specifically, but Satoru quickly stepped in on your behalf and with the bottle in tow, you decided to at least make an effort to tour him around the town while time still remained.

Not that there was much left to show off.

The most that the town had going for it was its greenery; a lush nature backdrop that grew between the cracks and seams with a few traditional buildings scattered throughout. It was pretty typical for rural Japan. Nostalgia unintentionally hit you as you walked through the streets, throwing you back to when you walked around all alone, those many years ago.

Satoru didn’t seem to mind all too much, never once showing discomfort around you as you led him in and out of the many neighbourhoods.

“You know, this place is very calm, actually,” he said, filling out a moment of silence, “but it is boring, I do have to admit that much.”

“I guess it isn’t that bad if you’re either really young or really old, but just not so much in between,” you replied in agreement with him.

“I’m just mostly surprised that you didn’t go insane living here,” he laughed a little, hoping to lighten things up with you. He liked seeing you smile.

“I mean, I did to an extent,” you replied with a bitter smile, “the town itself is fine, it’s just the people in-“

You then froze.

It was as if you had manifested the devil herself; the brief peace that you had experienced seeming to have quickly evaporated—something, someone familiar approaching you to take you back to hell.

You gulped as you surrendered, suddenly shying away and attempting to take a different route down the road instead. This however was quickly caught on by Satoru who had a different idea in mind, not wanting for you to hide from your problems for once.

Maybe the way he was going about it was wrong, since this was your battle to figure out, but he wanted to help in the ways he knew he could.

As a teacher, he wasn’t all that unfamiliar with bullying from an outside perspective, even if he did turn a blind eye to it as a teen and while you were his equal, not a student, he still felt as though it was something better to face than just ignore.

Standing up to Yui might not have been in your cards, forcing her to acknowledge her past might not work, but maybe teaching you that you could just move on from your past?

Not that it was his place but…

It wasn’t as though you were about face someone he didn’t know about, either. He could tell from your body language alone that this was the bully that you spoke of from when you had first met.

“Hey, don’t worry about it,” he assured you in a softer voice, patting your back to reinforce your folded posture once again, “nothing will happen, I won’t let it.”

In truth, he found the situation almost a little… amusing? He wasn’t a total stranger to the sway of influencial families and how they’d bend the public to their will by abusing their status in life. Seeing similar inner politics being reflected in regular civilian clans was a little strange to him, leaving him wondering exactly what type of mess this other woman was caught up in.

In the cities, sorcerer clans dominated the population. He speculated that in villages and towns, it must have been financial, some type of dominating business or simply just old money.

With that in mind, he thought that the bully in question therefore was overcompensating for something. It was likely that it was a lack of control in her life, so he she took it out on someone who had a history of not fighting back—not that he blamed you for it or anything.

The more he thought about it, the more petty he found it but he at least did get it, even if he couldn’t help but find the whole thing a little funny. For such an irrelevant town, one that he didn’t even know existed until you pointed it out on the map, to drive away its own people was hilarious to him.

What a joke.

And when this woman began to speak, he had to go the extra way to hold back stifled laughter.

“[name]! It’s been so long, hasn’t it?” Yui announced to you in a higher pitched tone, emulating some shred of care as her words feigned politeness. You wondered why this was happening, but upon seeing her eyes flick over to Satoru, you quickly understood why.

Satoru saw through this too, being completely used to this sort of person and situation. He liked attention, but he didn’t like it at the expense of others.

“Hi Yui,” you greeted in a resigned tone.

“Back in town so soon?” she asked in a forced polite voice, she wasn’t going to do anything that got her into trouble, not after the incident anyway.

“Yeah, uh, just visiting because-“ you mumbled, not wanting to indulge but you were cut off anyway.

“—sorry, but can you speak up? You’re so quiet.” she interrupted.

You swallowed away your last remaining shred of sanity, still not understanding why Satoru didn’t allow for you to just take a detour.

“It’s my dad’s birthday, so I’m in town for the weekend,” you replied with some strained added volume.

“Oh, the construction worker, right?”

“Actually he works in a facto-“

“—so, who’s your friend?” Yui asked, cutting you off once again as her intentions were finally made abundantly clear. You were the opening act for her to get closer to Satoru, thinking that a half-assed attempt of small talk would be enough to garner the attention of him.

You paused momentarily, unsure of how to actually introduce him. It was easier to go off on implications with your parents because that’s something you mulled over in your mind for a whole week, however suddenly doing so around your tormentor was a whole different story.

“He’s uh, a close friend,” you replied at long last; he was a fabricated lover, and while he did promise to play his part for you while he was here, you just couldn’t say it to her.

Satoru watched this happen from the sidelines, not wanting to interrupt unless he absolutely had to do so. He considered that he would have to talk to her soon, because his involvement was made clear.

He did find it a little disappointing that you didn’t use the boyfriend line for him though because he would have put on his best act for you.

“Oh, really…?” Yui replied, sounding almost disappointed as her eyes lit up with a new sort of flare, maintaining her friendly smile.

Yui seemed to be completely ignoring you now which you felt was strangely petty given the ages you were all currently in, since you weren’t teenagers anymore like before.

“Just a close friend?” she asked, setting her sights on Satoru next, “well if you’re ever craving some company that’s more suited to your liking, then-“

“Not a chance,” Satoru said, shutting down the attempt right away, not wanting to indulge in it any further. He could admit to being amused by the whole situation, but he didn’t harbour any interest in it all the same.

He dragged you past her as he settled on ignoring the bully instead. In his mind, you two weren’t at school anymore so regardless of what happened back then should be left behind in the past. Had Yui been more aggressive though, then maybe—but it was simple enough to just stifle her ego for now.

He could have gone further, but he didn’t.

As he walked by with you, you were left behind with some type of lingering confusion in the aftermath of things. He didn’t quite put an end to the problem at hand, but he didn’t let you dwell on it any further.

Something about this experience did manage to awake something else for him though, a sudden burst need of responsibility—feelings that were too confusing to understand right away but they were there.

What started off as him putting off his clan duties and showing off to a town he didn’t care about now simmered off into a realisation of wanting to keep you close, no matter what.

It sure felt complicated, though.

“You’re fine, right?” he spoke up after a while now that you both were far gone from the scene; feeling partial regret from making you face your past. He no longer wanted you to do so—wanting for you to move on, instead.

He didn’t like how he felt right now, it felt too familiar, almost. It was like looking into a parallel mirror as he finally understood why you hated this place so damn much.

It was a reminder that things had to be a certain way—just as his own family name emphasised the same point.

At least however, he could change the course of your life by interfering in the same way he was determined to give his students a chance at a more carefree life in spite of the life they’re forced to lead.

“Y-yeah, sorry, I-I just didn’t think I’d run into her here so soon,” you stammered in response, feeling stressed beyond belief from the encounter, thankful that you didn’t have to brave it alone, “I thought I could avoid her, but, I guess not…”

“Don’t sweat it,” he continued, forcing a smile to spread across his face as he pondered his own feelings, “nothing happened anyway, so we can just move on, right?”

“R-right,” you replied, nodding along.

Satoru sighed, he never thought anything would happen anyway. Teenagers could be needlessly cruel, but if Yui belonged to an influential family, then she would be unwise to stain the reputation in adulthood.

Feeling a little protective, he challenged an idea, not quite caring how it sounded.

“In fact,” he spoke just a little quieter than before as he drew you in by wrapping his arm around your shoulder, “she’s so irrelevant, hell, this whole town is so irrelevant that you don’t even need to think about it all again after you’re back.”

You responded with a nervous laugh in response, feeling unsure in which direction he was going exactly.

“I’m being serious, [name],” he said again, although moving away from you to gain some distance away from him, “you don’t need anyone else, not when you have me, Shoko and Suguru, so just forget about this place and never look back again.”

(And if you tried to go back, he’d stop you.)

“And my parents…?” you added to the list, still thinking he was joking.

“Nobody else,” he corrected you, feeling a little protective. He wasn’t always like this, so he felt like he really had to emphasise his point since he wasn’t joking around for once.

“I guess you might be right,” you replied as you thought about it some more; it wasn’t like you got anything out of this trip by coming to see your family, all it did was strain your relationship with your parents further.

Then again, this whole progression felt too soon—too fast, to abandon your old life in order to cling onto your new life felt unrealistic as well, no matter how much reassurance you’d get from the trio.

Was this level of attachment normal?

As you considered the implications in your mind, you slowly got used to the idea. To Satoru it seemed simple enough because you didn’t have to leave behind any crucial responsibilities, so the choice to move on was something you’d a fool to not take advantage of.

By the time you were both back at your family home, he led you back inside the guest house and didn’t do a single thing near you because he had you right where he wanted you; where he had his own hopes secured vicariously through your decision.

It wasn’t a malicious action he thought, unlike what you were feeling. This was just him looking out for you, keeping away from a place that was bad for you.

So come the next day, he rushed you out of the town as he barely gave you enough time to pack your things and to say goodbye to your very own parents, eager to get you back to what he thought to be a better life back in Tokyo.

You weren’t going to actually cut off your parents though, even if you had promised so under the spur of the moment. You were going to reduce contact instead and let them influence your decisions less.

As you sat back into the passenger seat of his car, you weren’t quite sure what you were feeling just yet.

It wasn’t quite entrapment as you felt with Suguru when he pushed your boundaries, but it wasn’t quite freedom either.

Regardless of where you went, it felt like the decision to do so was never truly your own.

So, have you managed to change at all?

Or were you still trapped in that shell?

(Is this how your mother also felt at times?)

[amethystfairy1]

My upload schedule will probably be slowing down the next few weeks...

As a lot of you who've been following TTSBC and TT know, whenever I start posting a multi-chaptered story, I usually upload daily until it's completed. That's always worked fine for me, and I do hope to get back to that schedule soon because it makes my brain happier than spacing my stuff out.

Buuuuut for right now, I'll probably be spacing my chapters out to either every other day, or maybe sometimes every three days or so...that or I'll just have to take more time between fics to write up and edit everything in advance.

This doesn't have to do with writers burnout or anything, I promise! I'm still super eager to work on TTSBC and TT and I have no plans on stopping anytime soon! It's just that things are about to get verrrry busy life wise...as I've mentioned before I'm currently pursuing a masters degree and I've got a thesis due at the end of this upcoming school year, so as much as I just wanna write the block men kissing all day every day, I unfortunately also have to do work. 😭

I also have an original concept I'm working on a little bit...I know, from me, the fanfic author!? GASP! But yeah. it's something I'm very passionate about, and something I do hope to share with y'all one day. I can only hope it'll get the same warm reception that TTSBC and TT have gotten, but that's still a ways away from anything worthy of posting anywhere Even still, I want to save some of my time to work on it as well, alongside the vast majority of my time that'll be going toward academics.

But still too does the fire burn for the block men!

So yeah. expect TTSBC and TT updates to thin out to every other day, or once every three days or so, at least for the next couple of weeks until I've gotten a big bulk of my academic work out of the way! And then I shall resume my tippy tapping terrors on the daily once again!

Thank you all, always and forever, so reading and supporting my stories! It truly does mean the world! 💖

[yukidragon]

Okay so I'm trying really hard to get into SWWSDJ but there's so much lore not e en in the games I feel very much in over my head lol. Can you like...give a rundown? Or at least point me in the direction of where to start? I wanna write fic about the clown man damn it lol

I understand what you mean. When you fist enter into a fandom it can be pretty daunting, especially if you don't get a lot of the references and information that the bulk of the fandom takes as common knowledge.

A lot of the information we have about the lore for SWWSDJ comes from the various demos and teasers. However, the lore is being updated as the game is in development, as evidenced by the differences in each of the demos. Things have changed since its initial demo release, and will likely continue to change until the full game is released. SWWSDJ is very much a work in progress.

The most obvious place to start of course is the latest demo. You can check out a public release of it on the SnaccPop Studios Patreon over here.

There's a release that came after this one with a bit more content, but you'll have to become a member if you want to see it for yourself. Personally I think it's worth it for all the goodies that are regularly released on the patreon. If you've signed up, I highly recommend checking it out.

After that, I think it's good to look at the official webpages for SWWSDJ, including the official tumblr over on @sunny-day-jack-official. The tumblr page answers quite a number of questions from the fans, as well as some teasers. They've even made a listing of most of the other official webpages in this post here.

Another page that teases some juicy lore is the official profiles over on Toyhouse. Want to know the canon heights of the love interests and their birthdays? This is the place to get that info.

The official twitter page has been a place to pick up bits of lore since the beginning. There's plenty of teasers, profiles, and it gives a good sense of how things have evolved during development.

There are some teasers that are floating around posted by the original creator and others working on the project, but the rule of thumb is to take these with a pinch of salt. They're very good to inspire ideas and lore crafting, but if it's not on an official page like the twitter, tumblr, patreon, etc. then it's technically not canon.

Speaking of technically not canon, if you're interested in seeing my deep dives into my theories about the lore, AU crafting, and just gushing about the series in general, feel free to check out my rambles. I've done a lot of thinking about this series, and my opinions keep evolving as new developments release. I've also done quite a lot of writing as well.

I hope this can be helpful to get you started, and that you enjoy your time in this fandom. If you have more specific questions, feel free to toss them into my inbox. I might take a while to answer, but I appreciate every ask sent my way. I look forward to seeing your stories, as well as the stories of everyone else in this lovely fandom.💖

@channydraws @earthgirlaesthetic @sai-of-the-7-stars @cheriihoney @illary-kore @okamiliqueur @kurokrisps

[echo-bleu]

End of the Year Fic Recs

thank you @thescrapwitch and @sallysavestheday for tagging me!

This is a wonderful game, I love reccing fics and I should do it more. I'll keep it all Silmarillion for the recs, since that's the bulk of what I've read this year. I haven't had the spoon to leave proper comments on some of these, so hopefully reccing them can count too?

Recommend up to 5 series or multi-chapter fics from 2023 that everyone should read (multi-year WIPs count, if the last update was in 2023).

- The Harrowing by @chthonion. I am forever in awe of this whole series and of Chthonion's writing. Somehow every single sentence is relatable and at least half of them are a punch in the gut, but in a healing way. A delightful Frodo, Celebrimbor and Finrod working through their trauma and Annatar, remade as an elf, learning how to be a good person (and a person at all, really).

- we will make this place our home by @leucisticpuffin. Truly delightful 70s AU as narrated by 8 year old Elrond, who just makes my heart melt in every chapter. Maedhros and Maglor as traumatized foster parents doing their best, the twins with their antics and their fears and joys, it's such a breath of fresh air and I can't get enough of it.

- Hanged Man by @tethysresort. Second age fic about the fall of Eregion and the start of Imladris with so much interesting worldbuilding and plot, and characterization of Elrond and Glorfindel especially that I really loved.

- Everlasting Song by @amethysttribble. This is perhaps a little more niche, a crossover with A Song of Ice and Fire, but I'm not an ASOIAF fan at all and I have like two whole memories of the books and I'm still finding absolutely delightful. Top-notch characterization of the Fëanorians, and it really keeps you on your toes.

- Aurë entuluva by @theheirofashandfire. Just very recently caught up with it and I love it to bits! The time loop is all kinds of angsty and breathtaking, and I really love the world that is being constructed afterwards. Wonderful Russingon, and I'm also, especially, in love with her Curufin and Celegorm.

Recommend up to 5 single chapter fics/one-shots (long or short) from 2023 that everyone should read.

- Wayward Son by @thescrapwitch. Angst exactly like I like it. Fëanor and Maglor, and it will make you cry. @thescrapwitch writes Maglor just wonderfully and I really love this Fëanor that will do absolutely anything for his son.

- On the difference between hostages and sons by leodesic (and the rest of the series as well). Absolutely delightful Elrond and Elros, as seen by Gil-galad when they first come to his court. I love Elrond defying expectation, and this was such a wonderful read.

- the world to come by arriviste. Arda Remade, told through the shadows and the gaps of what's missing. It's eerie, and I love a well-written eerie fic that leaves you feeling a little off-balance. Wonderful reflection on the price of perfection.

- Sea-Bells and Sunlight by @actual-bill-potts. Finrod, Lúthien and Beren in Mandos. This broke my heart in the best way.

- in the breaking by @thelordofgifs. Short but terribly impactful study of Maedhros and Maglor before the end, one of the best I've read of them.

Recommend up to 5 fics NOT from 2023 that everyone should read (oldies but goodies).

- A Farewell to Arms by MorwenSteelsheen (LOTR, Farawyn). Such a wonderful characterization and development of Faramir and Éowyn's relationship in a slight canon divergence where Éowyn arrives in Gondor two years before the end of the war of the Ring.

- The Splintered Light by @thearrogantemu. The whole series. These Gifts That You Have Given Me (Silvergifting) is well-known in the fandom, I think, and I absolutely loved it, but the other fics set in the Fourth Age were among the first I read in this fandom that I just fell straight in love with.

- The Host of the West by @mynameisjessejk. Various fics of the Otter Mayhem and Otterless Mayhem series could have gone into every category here because I love them all, but this is the one I chose because I reread it yesterday for the fourth (fifth?) time and it still had me bawling my eyes out. Probably my favourite Finrod, and definitely an inspiration for my own writing. The whole series is about healing and redemption and elf therapy and all of it is delightful.

- The Peril (and Potential) of Unleashing Lightning in a Fishbowl by @dawnfelagund. This one took everything I thought I knew about Caranthir, threw it out the window and gave me a truly brilliant characterization I didn't know I needed in my life. The worldbuilding is also delightful, and so is Amarië.

- Aranya by SpaceWall. I read this recently and it's really staying with me. Some people in my asks have expressed interest in fics that take the Valar to account for their mistakes, and this is a wonderful one. With a bonus revolution. I really love the non-linear storytelling as well, a hard-to-use tool that is done wonderfully here. Plus the title is inspired.

Recommend up to 5 of your own fics (completed or WIP) from 2023 that everyone should read.

- your veins are empty of dust. Character study of Nerdanel as feels her family die across the sea, and she sculpts. This is also the fic for which I made the art I'm probably the proudest of to date.

- your smile tells me I'm safe. Modern AU with aro Maedhros and a Russingon QPR.

- silver. Míriel, Celegorm and Celebrimbor, and living with chronic illness.

- the light that you keep burning there. Part of a much larger AU where the second and third kinslayings don't happen, but this one is about Maedhros, Maglor and Fingon in the later years, as the world crumbles, trying to remember what (who) they're fighting for.

- if I am to braid my mystic crown. The Silmarillion retold through worldbuilding headcanons about braids.

Tagging @unforth @foodsies4me @wren-of-the-woods @camille-lachenille (I don't know who has already done it, so feel free to send me a link if you have!)

[moonbaby26]

Ok, I promise I have fic in my drafts! My schedule has just been crazy so I haven’t gotten to update much. It should hopefully settle again soon. I will respond to all comments too! I go through them in bulk and melt. Thank you! Thank you! For everyone who interacts! It’s wild and hard to believe. 😭💗

But here’s what just happened. Poly AI app. I saw GrandLineReview had a sponsorship with them in a recent video. And I thought…eff it, for science! I had a few minutes to kill, but not enough to write. I have no idea what data this app steals. I assume no privacy anyway with stuff like this. But fellow Doffy brain rotters, here you go if you dare. I even tried to stay professional! It went off the rails immediately. 🤣

Whew! 😳 The app has many Doflamingos too. If you want this specific one, pick the Doffy with the same thumbnail in the red suit. I haven’t tried any other characters yet. I was short circuited quick enough already for a damn work day.

[shewolfofvilnius]

Tiefling Siblings + Their Loves

Unless I keep writing Gale and Lia's adventures in/as [SPOILER] as continuing chapters (I MIGHT), I've basically finished writing the main bulk of the initial/main story for my fic Wild Magic. (Updating 2x/week until it's finished). If you haven't read the fic, basically Shar's back on her bullshit and in the process, Rolan's sister Lia gains wild and unpredictable magic surges - and the romantic comedy takes us all across the city AND to Waterdeep briefly.

I thought I'd offer a pic of where everyone's kind of 'at' at the end of the story (early 1493DR). Lia and Gale are the main couple of the fic , while the overall arc follows Rolan and his soon to be wife, the semi-retired bard Tavaria (AND are getting a spinoff fic as Tavaria is tired of the city and wants to go back to the farm), plus Cal and Lae'zel, whose fling has gotten so serious it could shape the fate of interplanar politics - if Cal can mediate Rolan and Lia, the two factions of githyanki and the githzerai should be child's play.