#but I don’t have the energy to write

[indiaalphawhiskey]

“Perhaps,” Colin said, and the word itself tasted so bitter on his tongue, it was as though he was compelled into spitting all the others out of his mouth, just to finally rid himself of the poison of them, “that was another part of your… entrapment.”

His regret was instant — hot and blinding — his mind playing out the memory of her wide, curious, shining eyes as she had laid bare and vulnerable beneath him, all bashful innocence, and asked him, so earnestly, ‘Is there more?’

The sweet lilt of it echoed in his head as his pitiful lie burned through his body, shaming him. But he could not bring himself to look at her now, because he knew he could not take the accusation back — knew no apology would suffice.

“I did not mean to entrap you, Colin.” Her gentle words were pained — small, and tearful, and so full of truth. “I love you.”

Out of his periphery, he caught the shape of her lips as she said it, sweetly downturned in their devastation, in their distress.

He loved those lips.

He loved her. His Pen.

It was on the tip of his tongue, his heart steadfastly pushing it forward like a boulder through a dark cave, desperately urging the confession out of him. Only—

“I loved you enough to save you from entrapment,” she said. And maybe, had he not been so focused on the way the earlier devastation in her voice seemed to turn determined, he would have seen it sooner: seen her slip off her ring before her warm fingers met his — the touch he had so missed, had so agonizingly craved for days, finally coming back to him in its most heart wrenching iteration. She pressed the cold metal into the palm of his clenched hand, the curves of the small pearls smooth against his skin. It might as well have been shards of broken glass.

“I love you enough,” she repeated, though it was not lost on him, the sudden change of tense — from past to present, “to save you from entrapment.”

His gaze shot to her the very moment the true meaning of her words hit him, dread solidifying at the bottom of his belly.

No, he thought, panicked.

No.

No.

No!

Again, the right words had failed him. She was gone.

[remxedmoon]

practicing self care (projecting my stims on my blorbos)

greyscale vers below the cut!

[keferon]

Monster hunter au part 9

I wanted to cook a bit more fluff before I get back to drama hehe

Previous Next

[stealingyourbones]

Never will I stop with the steadfast notion that folks in the DPXDC fandom should interact with at least some form of canon DC media.

There are comics, tv shows, radio dramas both old and new, podcasts, movies, magazines, so much shit that intentionally avoiding the media is simply preventing yourself from spawning new ideas and gaining a new appreciation for a fandom that you’re already in.

The Superman Radio Show has episodes 11 minutes long. A lot of the TV shows don’t have episodes that surpass 30 minutes and most are nearly fully clipped on the official DC YouTube channel. The amount of fan made motion comics is astounding. The amount of fanmade animations is equally as incredible.

[sabbathbloodysabbeth]

Alpha!Eddie Munson being asked to help fellow Alpha! Steve Harrington’s knot to stay down longer during sex. As the second Steve gets inside an omega his knot immediately pops. Eddie agrees to help under the conditions that he gets to decide when and where he helps train Steves knot. Of course a few sessions go by with no luck, up until Eddie decides playing with the others prostate could possibly help.

Now Steve doesn't understand how the staffs area of scoops ahoy was the perfect place to test this out for the first time, and he kinds of regrets agreeing to this. Not because he doesn't enjoy it, but because he has to stay silent.

His shorts are currently down to his ankles and his hand’s covered tightly over his mouth as tears roll down his face. His legs are spread out as his cock is pressed uncomfortably between his stomach and the table. Their goal of having him last longer than a second has been met but now his knot is swollen and cock is leaking more precum at each thrust from behind.

Eddie’s purposely thrusting against his prostate. His own Knot starting to catch against Steve’s rim.

Steves very close to having the best orgasm of his life when Eddie pulls out, flips him over and jerks off all over Steve’s agitated knot. Then proceeds to pull Steve’s shorts up, pat him on the ass to be on his way.

“You just told me to help you not knot immediately. Never asked me to teach you how to cum properly big boy.”

[stars-for-circe]

My heartfelt apology for not posting for a while, enjoy :)

Support Palestine

cw: pure smut, that’s it

A video of you and Ellie in the car, it’s rather plain, actually. She’s holding your phone, facing her way, while you seem a little occupied. But for some reason, the point of the video seems quite unclear, because for some reason, Ellie just can’t seem to get the right words out.

And instead of words coming out of her mouth, its moans and whispered swears broken up with stifled giggles from the two of you. And oh, now it’s quite obvious, what with how her head is slowly leaning back and hitting the headrest, and the first syllables of a failed sentence tries miserably to escape Ellie’s throat.

“Say it.” You whisper, sounding as though your voice is muffled.

A silence follows, then a small slurp, then a snicker as you hear her whimper. From your point of view, it’s just so fucking funny seeing Ellie struggle like this. The camera’s out of focus now, shaking slightly and facing the wrong way, but who can blame her for not focusing on the angles? Bless her, with how she tries to lift her head and look into the camera as she speaks.

“I just….just wanted to-fuck- to say that I love my girlfriend so m-much.”

“She makes me….?” You stare up at her expectantly, wiping your lips with your tongue as you slowly trace two fingers up and down, the way she’s soaking the leather seats translating into such a wet noise that the video could pick up on it.

“…She makes me s-sooo happy, and……makes me feel so good-holyshitdon’tpleasedontstop-”

“I won’t, baby.” What you say is muffled once again, your tongue now occupied all on her puffy clit, sucking and swirling above your two fingers, thrusting in and out at just the right angle. And thank god for your other hand staying unoccupied, as you take the reins on recording (since Ellie is too fucked out to care at this point).

The new angle, showing your face as you tongue fuck her, and showing the foggy car windows behind you, just barely illuminated from that busted streetlight. As you glance up at Ellie, all your encouraging open mouthed “uh huh”s and moans at how she tastes just turn into little giggles at what the fuck you’re both doing right now - fucking your girlfriend in some residential driveway, meaning you need her to stay quiet because you both were too horny to wait until you got home.

But you couldn’t really care less, as you feel her clench harder and harder on your fingers, her tattooed arm coming down to card her fingers through your hair. And you really can’t find it in you to care about anything at all as her soft hold turns into a harsh grip and tug as you make her unravel in your tongue, using your fingers to brush against her sweet spot as you slurp and suck everything Ellie gives you.

You bite your lip and smile as her breathing finally goes from heavy, whiny pants to soft sighs, pulling yourself up from the floor and into her lap. And just as you lean down to kiss her, you make sure the camera’s got both of you in frame as you make out with Ellie. You make sure she tastes herself on you, coaxing open her mouth and slipping your tongue against hers which, to your delight, elicits another small groan from her, and then a slow, fucked out smile against your mouth - one that you reciprocate.

And it feels so good to slide your hand up and pull at her hair this time, while you start to slowly grind and swivel your hips against hers - a taste of what’s to come next. You feel her hands slowly begin to trace up, up, up your back and under your clothes, a small sign that she’s ready for another round. But before you can do anything more, the fucking porch light at the end of the driveway turns on, and fuck, did the front door just open?

“Shit!”

Followed by loud snickers from the both of you as you clamber into the passenger side and Ellie stomps down on the peddle, pants still down and all. And as she tries to navigate the unfamiliar neighbourhood, you lean over and try to help her with her pants - pulling them up and grabbing her belt. But she stops you, taking a hand off the wheel and gently pushing you off.

“We’re picking up where we left off the monent we get home. Don’t bother with that, baby.”

So you just lean back into your seat, watching the houses go by as you wait with a smile on your face. Something tells you she’s gonna do good on that promise.

[cynicatalyst]

Small Yautja meme comp

[tired-all-the-time22]

ヒアソビ - Camellia ft. Hatsune Miku

“In this one-night-only fantasia,

I’m scorching my fingers in the dissatisfaction”

^ Fic inspiration from this song, idea below v

+7/8/2023 update at the end

mistaken identity fic based on the knowledge that red son is unaware of MK’s monkie form. MK sneaks into a demon gala/formal event to crash any demon shenanigans (aka hang out with red son) any does so by using his monkie form. He finds red son, who, by some miracle, finds Mk completely unrecognizable and assumes that MK is a suitor or a kind of representative wanting to make ties with the demon bull family.

However red son, at this time harboring a crush for MK and possibly pining over him for a while, still recognizes enough features to see a resemblance to MK. Feeling as if he could never actually date MK himself, red son decides to try for second best and ends up flirting with what he believes to be a monkie demon Mk-lookalike. MK, while he does pick up that something is a little odd with the situation, shrugs it off and reciprocates red son’s flirting, ending up in them making mayhem and having cliche formal event-dancing-lights-shipping moments.

The night ends in MK feeling like their relationship has grown (possibly to something more, he hopes), and red son believing he’s fixed his ‘half-sided’ pining issue.

Imo this could be a funny fic like From Three Thirty to Four by Pittedpeaches (will always plug this fic bc it’s awesome and if you haven’t already read it go and do that now bc it’s hilarious) where MK and red son keep coincidentally only meeting like this when MK’s in monkie form and shenanigans ensue,

But alternatively I did originally imagine this as a kind of angst hurt/comfort fic where red son starts to feel dissatisfied with his ‘replacement’ and deals with feeling guilty about dating someone he feels is so similar to Mk while also remaining friends/enemies with him. They would eventually actually get together in the end, but I like hurt/comfort fics so making this art was fun. ^^

July 8th Update - I have decided to write a single chapter for this idea and here is the announcement post for more info - fic isn’t posted yet but if you guys want more when it is make sure to comment/reblog telling me so ^^

[overthinkinglotr]

People always say “Thorin could never retire in the Shire because he has to be King” — and I think the funniest way to handle that plotline would be for Bilbo to convince Thorin to eliminate the monarchy.

Bilbo has lived all his life in the Shire, where they elect their main leaders in a democratic system. Thorin is the first king he ever meets. Bilbo would initially think monarchy was very storybook-like and fantastical, like the things he’s read about in tales from distant lands…..but he would quickly find the reality of monarchy underwhelming, baffling, and annoying. Thorin/ Thranduil/Bard would make Bilbo decide that all monarchies are terrible. Being a king makes you self-important, haughty, greedy, and warlike. Kings are too powerful and use that power to fight over utter nonsense. They’ve got no one to keep their stubbornness in check. He would come to decide that the Shire really did have it right by holding elections.

I’m imagining a scene where Thorin dramatically confesses “I suffer under the burden of my duties; heavy is the head that bears a crown” and Bilbo flatly responds “don’t be king, then. >:/Elect someone else. If your people don’t want you then they won’t choose you! Im very tired of this whole affair and I wish I were back in the Shire, where folk are more reasonable >:(“

Thorin is enchanted by the strange foreign Hobbit custom of “elected leaders.” He has never considered this as a possibility. Overwhelmed by the Hobbit’s wisdom after the Battle of the Five Armies, Thorin converts his kingdom into a democratic republic and retires from public life.

This causes a domino effect. Other kingdoms across Middle Earth are inspired by Erebor’s example, and band together to reject their monarchical systems. Revolutions ensue.

Thorin’s consort “Bilbo Baggins,” known only as “the dwarf-king’s advisor who first set off this wave of revolutions,” becomes one of the most controversial and reviled people in all of Middle Earth. Bilbo becomes a figure of mythic proportions, loved by the democratic republicans and despised by the royalists, each of which invents their own wild legends.

To the democratic republicans “The Great Baggins” is glorified as a great warrior sent from Valinor to restore the long-forgotten wisdom borne out of The West— he snaps his fingers and with a poof of smoke he washes away all the old corrupt systems of the world, just as the Valar washed away Numenor.

But to the royalists, “The Mad Baggins” is a scheming shadowy monster who crawled up from the deep places of the world to burn the very foundations of Middle Earth to the ground; he’s a monster more powerful and terrible than a dragon or a balrog, who threatened Thorin into submission and brought the world into chaos. he snaps his fingers and monarchies collapse in a puff of smoke.

Meanwhile elderly Bilbo grumpily putters around the Shire with Thorin, mostly oblivious to all of this.

[durchdenspiegel]

28.03.2024

A little over a month left to finish my BA thesis, so in reality, a few weeks to get a decent product to send to my friends to read over… I am determined to actually have a first draft at the end of the week (utopian) because I really want some space to breathe before the next semester sweeps me up again.

Roughly one third written - I‘m testing if „study with me“ videos help me stay productive long term to meet my goal 😮‍💨

[nateezfics]

i haven’t been the same since this man picked up that electric guitar…

[hopelesslonelyghost]

something something bodyguard! ghost tasked in keeping you safe from a stalker but turns out he’s the stalker >:)

and now you’re both alone in a secluded cabin, far far away from anyone. where no one can hear you beg and cry

keep screamin’ love, it only gets ‘im harder.

[uhbasicallyjustmilex]

🩷💜💙

[stealingyourbones]

(Here’s a quick idea I jotted down a month or so ago and never elaborated on. Lost the energy to expand upon it so have the rough draft)

Time is a tad loose in the Zone. Danny goes to Frostbite for his yearly checkup and decides to spend the weekend there and meet some of Frostbite’s extended family.

Exiting the portal he arrived in a new dimension. One where his family hasn’t been alive for dozens of years. The only lineage that still exists of Jazz Fenton’s bloodline is a metropolis photographer by the name of Jimmy Olsen

[bazpango]

A lawlight fan fiction where the NPA’s benefits package includes—mandatory—counselling sessions (their job is emotionally taxing) but they can’t use them because it’s too much of a risk to the task force’s objective in catching Kira:

Matsuda waltzes in with a stack of notebooks under his arm. “I read in Good Housekeeping that journaling lowers stress!” L groans. Soichiro—desperate for any crumb of autonomy in this investigation—fully endorsed the idea.

Light freaks. If anyone finds the Death Note and they hire a graphologist, the first samples they’ll want to compare will be his—if L has anything to say about it. He has to be careful. This will be a burdensome paper trail. With a second (well, third) notebook to keep track of, the mental load is at risk of becoming dangerously heavy—for even the best of liars.

Every morning and evening the team journals for thirty minutes; they are locked away in a safe at all other times. It becomes a sort of ritual for clocking in and out of work.

Light is meticulous. Holding his pen off-kilter to throw off the curves and edges of his penmanship. He takes to journaling like he’s penning the world’s most mundane, most detailed, most virtuous autobiography.

L’s notes on the other hand are borderline illegible. Each entry is merely one or two sentences at most. Sometimes just a word, or a string of numbers.

Strawberries too tart today, taste terrible

He is Kira

1600. 50? …

Misa Light-kun’s girlfriend

Watari. HQ. microwave mud cake?

Light-kun did not kiss Misa back

L feels it, something quiet and scheming in the man sitting beside him. He tugs on his tie. It’s something new, since they’ve started journaling.

Weeks go by. One night, he tiptoes down to HQ hoping to break into the safe and confirm his suspicions; to his surprise he opens the door to find Light seated on one of the couches, flipping through his journal and scrunching his nose at it. “Light?” Caught you. “You aren’t to be here after curfew. Especially not with that.”

“You’re one to talk.” Light’s eyes scan L and then flicker to the coffee table, where his own journal sits invitingly. L’s been got, and what’s worse, Light knows it. He always knows. L wonders if he’ll ever get used to it.

“Yes, but.” L perches on the opposite sofa. “There’s no reason for you to be reading my journal. I’m not a suspect in this investigation.”

There’s plenty reason, and they both know it. If Kira can anticipate L’s hunches, he can misdirect. It’s a poor bluff, but still it’s one that Light can’t cop to.

“I suppose your right,” Light says, lips tightening into a line. He locks eyes with L and closes the journal softly, tossing it on the coffee table. L scratches at his wrist, where the handcuff used to be. Questioning if this opportunity would be wasted by fighting fire with fire.

“Perhaps my journal offered some insight. I was thinking the same about yours,” L mutters, “…Kira is my white whale, I suppose.”

“But I’m not Kira.”

“Yes, you keep saying that.”

Light crosses one leg over the other. “And Captain Ahab isn’t someone to aspire to. I’d be careful Ryuuzaki,” he warns; sounding perfectly concerned as a friend ought to be, “or the task force might begin to question your aptitude. You’re beginning to sound obsessed.”

Snide bastard.

“And what of you, Light?”

Light stiffens. So begins the spar.

“Do you shed the work day off in the shower with ease? Is your sleep dreamless, or do you comb through evidence you might have missed? You are tasked to help us hunt down the most prolific serial killer to ever walk this Earth, and…” he raises a thumb to his teeth, “surely that can’t be accomplished between the hours of 9 to 5, even for someone as brilliant as yourself.”

He’s monologuing now. Leaning forward. Dangling the fish hook and begging that Light takes the bait.

“That would be a most incredible feat for any man,” L says. He’s got Light right where he wants him, wide eyed and stubbornly still. Careful not to reveal any tells, which is one in and of itself. “But you don’t see yourself as one, do you?”

Light scoffs. “What are you asking, Ryuuzaki?”

It’s a ruse. Light always knows exactly what he’s saying, and does this stupid little dance with him anyway because he knows he can. L normally quite enjoys it, but tonight he’s had it and he isn’t sure why. He stands, only to step across the coffee table and plant his foot on one side of Light, the other soon to follow on the other side. Light instinctively recoils until his back is flush with the back cushion. It isn’t quite straddling, because L is still quite hunched overtop of him. But it is an intimidating closeness. Obsessive, even.

“I’m asking,” L mutters, eyes darting back and forth between Light’s, “if you think yourself God, or man.”

He’s still an immovable force, a statue underneath him. But there’s a flush of pink to his cheeks. So, you are human after all.

“This is ridiculous!” Light huffs, wiggling, and for the first time there’s a tinge of urgency to it. “You’re not getting a false confession out of me, pulling a stunt like this.”

“That is not my intention.”

“Then what is?”

“Have I not made that clear?” L asks, and the patronizing tone gives Light significant pause. L looks at the wetness of Light’s lower lip and bites that thumb between his teeth. “…Or have you just tricked me into thinking you’re smarter than you actually are?”

Light, ego bruised and bested, smashes their lips together. He plays dirty, and spars with him until their lips are swollen and there is a tinny, metallic flavour on both their tongues.

God, man, monster. Whichever he is, L likes the taste.

[autistic-katara]

mutuals and non mutuals pls answer 🙏🙏🙏