#i wanted to write something longer about this but i have too many wips so im leaving it as a thoughts post for now lol

[dwaekkicidal]

desperate!Hannie complaining to his roommate that when him and his girlfriend have sex, he gets too into it and always cums before her

closeted dom!Minho who agrees to help them out and wastes no time in setting rules, and all but orders them to have sex in front of him a couple of hours later

desperate!Reader who grinds down sloppily onto Han when she rides him and desperate!Hannie who has no set rhythm as he fucks into her

dom!Minho who wastes no time in taking control, putting his hands on your and Han's hips and showing you both the right way to move when each of you are the ones on top

desperate!Hannie who doesn't listen and loses his pace not long after Minho's hands are removed

dom!Minho who takes it upon himself to prep the younger man with some of your wetness and slides himself into his ass while he's still balls deep in you

dom!Minho who slides a hand into Han's hair and holds it tightly as his hips move at the same pace he explained earlier, fucking into Han roughly and causing a domino effect as Han's hips fuck into yours

desperate!Hannie who almost cums before you again, though for more valid reasoning this time, until Minho slides a pretty pink ring around the base of his cock, stopping him from cumming all together

dom!Minho who edges the both of you to the point where youre both crying and begging him to cum. and once he finally allows it, you get to cum first and squeeze all nicely around Han while the cock ring is still tight around him

dom!Minho who pulls Han out of you and then fucks him into the mattress until he deems him ready to cum. then pulls the cock ring off and lets him cum all over the sheets, Han’s cock red and angry as it spurts out more cum than usual

& none of this was part of the agreement but you'll all be damned if you dont go for a round two with a promise for this to happen again soon

sigh.

[prettiestgrlinthemorguexo]

Swipe (Lucifer Morningstar x reader) Preview

This is a preview of my WIP fanfic for Lucifer, it’s a three parter and this is a small about of part 1, since it’s still a WIP it’s not yet proof read :) Description: after his divorce, he finally gets back into the dating game…through a dating app :)

Please note I’m writing this before the release of ep7 and ep8 so- 

Takes place between ep 5 and right before ep 6 

I wrote nearly 98% of this at like 3 AM-

 Warning: Lucifer being a dork, Lucifer being a dorky dad, age gap(reader died at like 25 and Lucifer is like a good few thousands years old so), talk of divorce, Charlie being a supportive daughter, I’ve never used a dating apps so i might get info wrong, Lucifer doesn’t know modern day technology or slang, lying

⛧☾༺♰༻☽⛧ ⛧☾༺♰༻☽⛧ ⛧☾༺♰༻☽⛧

Lucifer’s POV

“Charlie, are you sure about this?” I ask still hesitant, I knew Charlie just wanted to help and had the best intentions, but a dating app?  “Of course!” Charlie exclaimed, face lite up. “It’s perfect! You get to meet people without the face to face interactions!” Charlie said downloading the app, viva by Voxtech.

Charlie’s was more excited than I was, I wanted to meet people but an app? I can’t help but feel my heart race and my body get heavy, why was I this nervous. In the middle of my overthinking Charlie handed me the phone, it had a profile made it had my name and many details. It felt like I was giving it to all 9 rings of hell! “Ok! How we gotta add some photos an-“ 

“Charlie!” 

We both turned are head to see Alastor and Vaggie standing there. “Can you help with something real quick?” Vaggie ask seeming annoyed. “Of course!” Charlie’s called back before as standing up. “You go ahead and add those photos dad I’ll be back!” Charlie said as she ran to the two, leaving me alone on the couch staring at the screen. 

I read over the info and it all was so…personal. How would anyone be comfortable putting this much out? I Don’t get me started with being the King of Hell it’s self, then an idea popped in my head. I turn my head slightly to see Charlie still talking to the pair so I decided to take matters into my own hands. I added photos of my duck inventions and made a duck with a white top hat as my ‘icon’. Now onto the name, Lucifer was too out there everyone would know, think! L names that are similar.

Lucifer..

Luci…

Luc…

Luca..

Luca! I instantly think changing the name quickly, removing the last name from the profile along with it. After that it looked like a normal profile. When I finished and satisfied with it Charlie was walking back over. “Sorry bout that dad! Now back to w-.” While she was speaking I shove my phone in my pocket and stand up. “No it’s fine! I set it up!” I nearly screamed it out as I stood from the couch. Charlie stared at me shock for a moment before her normal bright smile returned to her face. “Wow that’s great!” She said as she walked over “Look at you getting the hang of technology!” Charlie said happily. I didn’t know why I was so nervous by an app, but it was on my mind. After finishing talking to Charlie I was able to leave, soon I was back in my bedroom. I let out a sigh and feel onto the massive bed and pulled out my phone, Viva still open.

Y/N POV

Left..Left..Left..

God this app was a never ending app of swiping left on people wanting hook-ups was tiring. This was the last time I’d take F/N  advice and use a dating app, the fact they exist in hell was already surprising. It was nude after nude of people looking for a hookup. Then something different popped up, instead of the naked body I almost have gotten used to, I was greeted by a rubber duck with a white top hat. My eyes widen a bit as I layed there I swipped to look at the second photo, more ducks. I then moved and read the bio. “Luca..” I said quietly to myself reading the short info. I looked at the photos and the bio, it stood out in the sea of profile, i stair a while longer…

…Right. 

[monsterfuker3000]

You Call the Shots, Babe ༺♡༻

Hi kittens, mommy’s had a rough one and that’s why it’s been since October since I published anything lol. My now-ex boyfriend broke up with me and it thrust me head first into my man-hating era and I couldn’t write to save my life. I’m not happy with this fic but I had to publish SOMETHING bc it’s been rotting in my WIP folder forever. Enjoy, my stinkies 🩷

WARNINGS: p in v sex, perv!Leon, unprotected sex, mentions of male masturbation, a lil bit of footjob action/very light CBT, Leon is a two pump chump I’m sorry, creampie as always, uhhh you degrade him and stuff but he’s Leon so he gets off to that, idk RE2R Leon strikes me as a panty thief who would get off on being told he’s a pervert so that’s what I wrote lol

Word count: 3k words of Leon being a perv

“Leon?” you called.

“Yes?”

“Why do you have my fucking panties?”

Movie night with Leon was always unnecessarily complicated. It very nearly felt like it took him hours to get settled; he needed the right snacks for the two of you, the right drinks, the right comfy clothes, the right movie. If he put much more effort into every movie night, it would start to feel like a date. Not that he’d mind that.

You, however, seemed like you would mind. He had tried like hell to hint to you that he wanted something more than friendship; brushing his hand against yours whenever he could, resting his hand at the small of your back in a manner that was much more than friendly, letting his gazes linger a bit longer than they needed to. But you? Dear, distant, unmovable you? Never once reciprocated his affections. Leon was desperate for you.

That’s why the movie nights came about; they were the closest Leon could get to a date night, and by God did he push the envelope. He’d spend every movie night with an arm around your shoulder, both of you under the same blanket. He’d behave himself, keep his hand a where they belonged, but all the while he’d have to try like hell to conceal the hard-on he’d be sporting every time. He felt pathetic, jerking off to the thought of you every night after you’d leave. That’s when he started stealing your panties.

It started out with just one pair he’d seen discarded on top of your hamper in your room, too careless to hide it before he came over. He’d snuck them into his pocket, vowing to himself they he would return them the next time he was at your place. Only he didn’t return them, and he did do it again.

He jumped at every chance to spend time at your place instead of his, sneaking another pair from you nearly every time. You had to be wondering where they kept going, but as long as his operation was still going off without a hitch, he was going to keep stealing them.

Then came the hitch.

You had come over for the aforementioned movie night, barging in after work without knocking like you owned the place, not that Leon minded.

“Lee!” You whined, “It’s cold out! How come you have to live so far from where I work?” You continued your lament as you kicked off your shoes by the door and walked further into the apartment toward the kitchen. Leon poked his head out from the doorway, pointing to his bedroom door.

“Go grab one of my hoodies or something if you’re cold, I’m making popcorn, so help yourself!” He busied himself with the popcorn once again as he heard you turn and walk toward his room, thanking him as you walked away.

“Leon?” you called.

“Yes?”

“Why do you have my fucking panties?”

His heart immediately dropped into his stomach, remembering just how many pairs of your used panties were tucked away in his drawer. The volume and variety would have been impressive if he didn’t feel downright creepy.

He slunk towards his room like a child expecting to be scolded, and his face reddened when he stepped into the doorway. You had your arms crossed, one of his favorite pairs of your panties dangling from one finger

It was a little baby-pink number; cotton, his favorite, with delicate lace around waistband that he couldn’t get enough of. Memories flashed through his head of just what perverted things he’d done with the scraps of cloth spilling out of the drawer you’d apparently yanked open.

He loved to jerk off with them wrapped around his cock, eyes closed and head falling back, sometimes with another pair pressed to his nose to inhale your scent. The worst thing he did, however, embarrassed even him; he loved to jerk off directly into the crotch of your panties, imagining that the reason they were covered in his cum was because it had spilled out of you. This was his favorite of all of his dirty fantasies about you, and imagining that the panties in his hand were soiled because you’d finally let him fuck you would often make him have to touch himself a second time.

“I saw these sticking out of your drawer, and I thought they looked familiar,” you said flatly.

He forced himself to return to the present at your words, fidgeting a bit to try to hide the half-chub that refused to go down even in the face of such profound shame. You cocked an eyebrow, looking all too relaxed given the situation the two of you were in.

“I asked you a question, Leon,” you reminded him. “Why do you have so many pairs of my panties? And I know theyre mine, don’t try to tell me they aren’t,’ you added, effectively crushing to death the only chance at redemption he thought he might have.

“Um, well. . .” He trailed off immediately, completely unable to tear his eyes away from the panties swinging from your hand, not sure how he was going to get out of this one. “I don’t- I. . . It’s beacuse-“

“I know why you have them,” you cut him off, his eyes finally snapping up to meet yours before the embarrassment made him duck away again. “It’s because youre a fucking pervert.”

His heart dropped; this was it. You were disgusted with him, you were going to leave his apartment and never come back, you were going to tell everyone you knew that he was a disgusting panty thief, never to be trusted. However, there was no hiding the full-blown hard-on he was now sporting, thanks to the insult. His face reddened more, if that was even possible. Your eyes flicked down to his crotch, and the scowl you’d been wearing slowly turned into a smirk.

“I’m so sorry, I-“ he began, but you cut him off yet again.

“You’re not sorry you did it,” you salked toward him. “You’re sorry you got caught.’ You were right on the money, as usual, but before Leon could even try to get a word in edgewise, you spoke again. “I think you need to be punished.”

What?

His confusion must have been clear on his face, because you continued.

“What, cat got your tongue?” You teased. “Take your pants off, Leon,” you said. It very obviously wasnt a request.

This felt like a trap to Leon, but he figured things couldn’t get any worse, and so help him he was going to do whatever you asked of him in the hopes it might smooth things over. He cleared his throat, reaching for the drawstring of his sweatpants as you began to slowly circle around him. He felt very much like a cornered animal.

“O-okay,” he finally spoke, albeit haltingly as he slowly pulled at the tie on his pants.

“Tell me, Lee, what have you been doing with all the panties you’ve been stealing, hm? Be specific. And hurry up with your pants, I don’t like waiting when im already impatient.”

God, what were you going to do to him? He tried like hell not to very his hopes up, but he hoped to God this was going to end well for him.

“W-well,” he began, sliding his pants off as he spoke, nervous but still eager to find out what was going to happen next. “I mean, I jack off with them. . .” He trailed off, clearly not wanting to be any more forthcoming than that. He chanced a look at your face again, hoping what little he told you was sufficient, but of course not.

“Tell me more, Lee. And look at me when you do it,” you added. He swallowed hard, fighting to keep his eyes on you while he spoke.

“I wrap them around. . . Around my cock and I, well, I jack off with them, ‘nd then I. . .” He trailed off yet again, cheeks burning bright red, afraid to try your patience but far too embarrassed to get it all out at once. He took a deep breath. “And I like to. . . To finish in the crotch,’ he finally finished.

“Why?” You asked simply. He wasnt prepared to answer that one. He cleared his throat again, and mumbled something, turning away. “Come again?” You asked. He huffed out a breath and looked back up at you, tears very nearly welling up in his eyes from the humiliation but still hard as a rock.

“I said I like to imagine theyre filled with my cum because you put them back on after I fucked you!” He nearly yelled, frustrated with the interrogation. A few embarrassed tears he hadn’t even noticed finally spilled from his eyes and he wiped them away roughly with his sleeve, knowing he had no right to cry.

“I figured,” you replied flatly. How were you staying so calm about this? You’d just found out your best friend had been stealing your panties for the past few months! Leon opened his mouth to ask you just this, but you moved lighting-quick, stuffing the panties into his open mouth and covering it with your hand, swatting away hips hands when he instinctively reached up to push you away.

Holy shit. You just stuffed your panties in his mouth.

“Kneel,” you told him, and his knees were on the floor without a second’s hesitation, placing his hands down on the tops of his thighs. You walked around him, adding the instruction to be careful not to spit them out, and he could hear you once again digging around in the drawer behind him. you gasped behind him, reaching out from behind him to range another pair inches from his nose before snatching it back.

“Leon, these are my favorite!” You cried indignantly. “I’ve been looking for them forever, you pervert,’ you added. God, there was that word again. It absolutely shouldn’t have made his cock twitch in his boxers, but it did anyway. “Hands behind your back,” you instructed him, and he obeyed, wondering what you had in mind. His eyes widened when he felt you twist that second pair of panties around his wrists, essentially improvising a pair of handcuffs. You walked around him again to stand in front of him, and he looked up at you expectantly, tears long-dried. “Try not to rip those, I like them,” you said simply, before sitting on his bed and pressing your socked foot to his crotch without another warning.

He cried out as best he could with a mouthful of your panties, nearly doubling over from the sensation. You were pressing harder than should have been pleasurable, but between how wound up you had him and how long he’d wanted you to touch his cock, he was still in heaven. As you slid your foot up his cock, he wished with everything in him that he didn’t still have his boxers on; that he could feel the friction and not just the pressure, delicious as it was. You leaned back, surveying your work, all the while still working your foot up and down his cock.

“You like that, Leon?” You teased, propped up on your hands. Of course he liked that. Of course you knew he liked that, but how could you not tease him like this?

Your curled your toes gently over the head of his cock, squeezing a bit with your toes. He was sensitive, so fucking sensitive, and he bucked up into your touch with another muffled cry.

“Ah-ah,” you admonished him. “I didn’t say you could move.”

Leon whined again at this, worried you were going to stop touching him, but far too afraid of that prospect to do anything about it.

Instead of withdrawing your foot Ike he expected, you pressed the ball of your foot against his cock, hard. You meant this as a punishment, of course, but poor Leon was so very on edge that he came in his boxers, shaking as he dampened the crotch of them along with your foot.

“Leon. . .” You sighed with a deep frown, one that would have made his heart clench had all his blood not been allocated elsewhere. “You really are a pervert,” you scolded. God, there was that word again. Leon knew at this point that this was all a game, but he couldn’t help the way that word made him feel. Pathetic. Dirty. Unbelievably horny.

You stood, looming over him as he looked up at you with wide eyes.

“I was worried about the rest of my plans for you, but it looks like youre still hard,” you remarked, nudging his overly sensitive cock with your foot and pulling a surprised yelp from him. To his shock, you unbuttoned your pants and slid them off along with your panties all in one go. The way his eyes flicked over to the panties you discarded to the side wasnt lost on you.

“Don’t be greedy, Leon. You have more than enough,” you teased. You knelt on the ground in front of him, pushing against his chest and knocking him off balance to sit flat on the floor with his back to his dresser, hands still bound behind him with your panties. You straddled him, hovering over his cock so close that he could feel the heat and wetness of your pussy. He didn’t dare move after what happened last time.

You decided to grant him just a little relief, using your hand to slide his cock shallowly through your folds, Upand down, up and down. His head hit the dresser behind him with a thunk, a deep groan tearing itself from his throat. Then finally, fucking finally, you slid down onto his cock, taking him to the hilt.

He tore his eyes away from the ceiling, and they nearly popped out of his head as he took in the sight in front of him. His cock had completely disappeared inside of you, your clit resting against his pelvis. He was mesmerized for just a moment before you lifted your hips and slammed them back down, earning another muffled shout from him as his head hit the dresser again.

You began a brutal pace right off the bat, the sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, along with your moans; yours were completely unbridled, his were still dampened by the panties he absolutely wasnt spitting out.

You reached up to place a hand against his cheek, patting it softly before pulling your hand back and delivering an earnest slap. It took him by surprise and he bucked into you again, but you seemed to let that transgression slide. You squeezed his cheeks with one hand, forcing him to look at you.

“Fucking disgusting, Leon. I should spit in your face for stealing and doing such nasty shit with my things,” you said through gritted teeth, hips still rolling against him. God, he was going to cum way too soon again. Sweat rolled down the side of his face with the effort he was exerting trying to hold off his orgasm.

“‘M gonna cum,” you moaned, and it was like he saw the light at the end of the tunnel. “You wanna cum in me Leon? You wanna fill me up with your cum? Of course you do, you fucking sicko,” and Leon knew he had just seconds.

Finally, with a last, particularly strong roll of your hips, you came. As your pussy pulsed around him, Leon came as well, filling you with his cum and thrusting up into you in earnest now, though he was too fucked-out to notice and correct himself.

As soon as your breathing evened a bit, you stood abruptly, the friction against Leon’s softening cock startling him along with the overstimulation. You hooked the panties in his mouth with your finger to yank them out and he choked a bit, his mouth dry. He was speechless as you shook out the slightly damp panties and slid them on with a snap of the waistband.

You bent over in front of him, showing him that the thin gusset of the panties was wet enough with his spit that it had gone slightly translucent. He could see your pussy lips through the wet fabric, and nearly passed out when he watched the wet patch spread as his cum began to spill out of you and onto the panties, just like he’d jacked off to so many times. If he wasn’t so mindful of not wanting to rip the panties that were still wrapped around his wrists, he probably would have pulled you toward him to fill you up with even more of his cum.

You walked around behind him to untangle him and free his arms. As soon as you did though, his hair stood on end remembering what he’d been caught with earlier. He whirled around, still on his knees to look up at you with big, pleading blue eyes.

“I’m so, so sorry, I know it’s gross that I was taking your panties-“

“Leon,” you interrupted him. “Why do you think my used panties were always on the top of my hamper? No girl would leave her panties visible like that if she knows someone is coming over. I wanted you to find them.” You turned and walked out toward the kitchen before turning back to him and seeing his jaw practically on the ground again. “You might wanna check on your popcorn, Lee.”

I’m on twelve Vicodins smoking on Scooby-Doo dick

[jojojoy1]

I thought I lost you- Lando Norris

Lando Norris x reader

A/N: so this isn't on my wip list but I got some inspiration to write and 4 hours and 1.1k words later I have this, enjoy.

Sunday. You loved Sundays, getting to see Lando race, getting to experience the joy with him. You also dreaded Sundays though. The fear and the worry doesn't disappear no matter how many races you attend.

Lando was just about to get in the car, helmet on and focused. Just before he stepped into the cockpit, you grabbed his hand.

"Be careful out there. I need you back here in one piece." You kissed his helmet, leaving a lipstick stain. You couldn't see Lando's whole face, but you could see in his eyes that he was smiling.

"I'm always careful." He said in his usual cheery voice, hands on your waist as yours rested on his chest.

"Just be extra careful, okay? I love you." Your tone changed slightly, clearly worrying.

"Hey, I'll be careful, don't worry. I love you too."

After that Lando was hurried into the car, no longer in your arms, no longer right next to you. You were normally quite calm at races, but something was different. You had this gut feeling telling you something was going to go wrong.

The start of the race was smooth sailing. Lando had made up a few places and there had been no red or yellow flags so far. But you still couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong.

That's when your whole world came crashing down on top of you. You didn't know how to react, so you didn't. You sat there in complete shock and fear. The words of David Croft replaying in your mind: Lando Norris and George Russell have hit each other. Norris has flipped, he's spun straight into the wall.

The car had spun into the wall upside-down, with Lando inside. Your Lando. Your World. Your everything. And there was nothing you could do but sit there and wait. It felt like time had stopped but was moving rapidly all at once.

No message had come through on Lando's radio. No indication of if he was okay. The waiting killed you. Watching the screens as the marshals ran to help him.

You wanted to move, you wanted to run to him. You wanted to scream and shout. You wanted to cry. But you couldn't. You couldn't move, you couldn't scream and you couldn't even cry. You were frozen.

A frantic shaking had brought you out of your trance. It was Carlos. He seemed out of breath, as though he got out of his car and ran directly to you.

"Are you okay, cariño?"

You tried to speak, the words on the tip of your tongue, but nothing came out. Carlos immediately knelt down to the height of the chair you were sitting on and wrapped his arms around you in a tight hug. His hands started stroking your hair soothingly. The first tear fell onto his shoulder as Carlos whispered comforting words into your ear. Suddenly, you were a train wreck, going from zero to a hundred in a second.

Carlos pulled away to look at the screens still showing Lando's wreck. Your eyes followed to see that Lando had been pulled from the car and was being taken to the ambulance on a stretcher.

"I need to go with him." You blurted out, the first thing to leave your mouth since the start of this nightmare. You arose from the chair hastily, however, your legs felt like they had disappeared from beneath you and you tumbled. Carlos caught you, enveloping your legs in his arms as he was still crouched down. He helped you sit back down and held your hands before he started talking.

"Y/n, you're in no state to go anywhere right now."

"I need to be with him, Carlos." You pleaded with the man in front of you.

"Then I'll come with you, cariño."

"But the race. When it restarts-"

"I'm coming with you." Carlos interrupted your frantic excuses. He didn't care about the race anymore. His best friend just got into a horrific crash and was in the hospital and you were having, what could only be described as, a breakdown.

"Thank you." You whispered as Carlos stood up, pulling you to your feet and helping you find your balance.

Carlos drove you both to the hospital. Your anxiety through the roof at this point. Leg bouncing up and down. Hands fidgeting. Shifting in your seat constantly.

When you arrived the nurses told you: He's in surgery, you'll have to wait.

So you waited. And waited. And waited.

Four hours later, a doctor entered the deserted waiting room. "Are you two here for Mr Norris?"

Your head shot up. "Is he okay?"

"Why don't you come and look for yourself."

The doctor led you to Lando's room. He was asleep on the bed. He looked peaceful and the parts of his body that weren't covered in a blanket looked virtually untouched, like the crash had never happened.

"I'll leave you two with him. There's a button you can press to alert a nurse if anything is wrong."

"Thank you." You and Carlos both thanked the doctor and entered the room.

You sat down on the chair next to Lando, Carlos at the foot of the bed. You carefully held his hand as the floodgates reopened. You couldn't control the tears. Seeing Lando laying in a hospital bed is not what you had expected when you woke up this morning.

You rested your forehead against his chest, feeling him breath and hearing his heart beating. You continued to sob in the nearly silent room, so overwhelmed by the events of today.

You felt a very soft squeeze, really it was a tap, to your hand. You lifted your head from Lando's chest to see his eyes just barely open. A cute, cheeky smiled adorned his face.

"Hi." He croaked out in a faint, weak voice.

"Hi." You smiled through the tears at Lando. Admiring his beautiful eyes you thought you'd never gaze into again. Feeling his soft curls you thought you'd never run your fingers through again. Cherishing his pink lips you thought you'd never kiss again.

Your hand reached up to tangle in his hair, your eyes following the movement. "I thought I lost you." You whispered, if you could even called it that. You could barely hear yourself, but Lando heard you.

"You can't get rid of me that easily." He laughed, trying to lighten the mood a bit.

"I love you." You spoke softly, relief washing over you.

"I love you too." You lent down and gently pressed you lips against Lando's, trying to memorise how he felt and tasted.

"I love you too, Lando. Do I get a kiss?" Carlos spoke up from the foot of the hospital bed.

"Obviously. Get over here."

[gffa]

I would like to say I've slowed down a bit on BATFAMILY fic over the last month, but that's kind of a lie because fandom has put out some absolute banger longer fics and I've been reading a lot of comics (can you believe how many comics I've been enjoying?? I have never felt so spoiled for choice!), so I still feel like I'm inhaling everything as fast as I can go and it's GREAT. It's a constant stream of crying about fictional characters in canon, crying about fictional characters in sad fic scenarios, crying about fictional characters in happy fic scenarios, and crying about fictional characters because other people care about our babies, too. Also, I have decided I no longer have a Dick Grayson Problem that you must all suffer through to get some variety in the recs, but instead I have a Dick Grayson Solution. You're all welcome. But I'll mix it up a bit just for you guys, so hopefully you find something fun to read no matter your fave and have a good time, because this fandom has been knocking it out of the park with the fic that has given me a good time, READ AND CRY WITH ME, OKAY. BATFAM FIC RECS - BABY DICK IS THE CUTEST FERAL ROBIN I'M NOT HEARING ANY ARGUMENTS: ✦ Grounded by WingFeathers, dick & bruce & clark & wally & ma kent & pa kent & background clark/bruce & cast, 60.4k     In the early days of the Justice League, Bruce is out more and more frequently on League missions, and Dick (age 13) is growing more and more restless and lonely stuck at home. His friends can't know he's Robin, and there are no superheroes Dick's age--or so he thinks, until Bruce receives a call from Barry, desperately seeking mentorship advice. Dick asks to meet the Flash's new sidekick, but Bruce refuses; a fight ensues, ending in Dick getting grounded. One week in Gotham off patrol, and then two weeks alone, far from Gotham... at a little family farm in Smallville, Kansas. And hey, if a certain Midwestern speedster sidekick just so happens to turn up, that'd be just fine. Or would it?

✦ trust in serum by deargalileo, dick & bruce & alfred & clark, 15.7k     "I believe the serum is a mixture of chemicals that compels the target to be completely honest, even against their own will." "You got hit with a truth serum?" Bruce winced as Dick's voice reached a high pitch. "Really?!" "Yes, really."

✦ Storge by CKBookish, dick & bruce & alfred, 5.4k     “Your dad must have his hands full with you.” Elizabeth Ribbons leaned forward and patted Dick’s shoulder, as he reached for yet another slice of cheesecake from a passing waiter’s tray. Bruce fixed his eyes on the ice sculpture that hid him from view. It suddenly seemed like the most interesting design in the world. The soft lines of the ice on the otherwise insignificant over sized swan seemed like a lead shield... Because Dick would read it easily in his expression. He wanted to be Dick’s dad. But he wasn’t.

✦ Robin Wings by JeanjacketCarf, dick & clark & bruce & cast, 3.4k     Clark wakes in a panic, unsure what has jarred him from his sleep. Until he notices Robin's absence from Batman's side.

✦ Hey! He Attempted a Coup! by PandasandDucks13, dick & bruce & clark & justice league & cast, 6.8k wip     What if Dick Grayson was a Kryptonian?

✦ grief mosaic by newsical, dick & bruce & alfred & leslie, 1.3k     Grief paints Dick’s days in muted shades of red and yellow and green. He grows to expect sleepless nights and sweat-drenched sheets. In turn, he finds late night companions in Alfred, with his old movies and stories, and Bruce, who wears the colors of his own grief to prevent its spread to others. Dr. Thompkins writes a letter to Bruce diagnosing Dick with PTSD.

✦ before this ends by emavee, dick & bruce, 2.5k     Mr. Wayne would definitely be angry if he knew what Dick was planning, but it’s not as if Dick is going to be here long anyway. Might as well take the opportunity to fly one last time, while he still has the chance.

✦ A Light at the End of the Tunnel by dizarys, dick & bruce & alfred, 1.6k     Maybe the parenting and grieving books he skimmed the highlights from last week–and Alfred–were right. Why else would Dick have approached their newest case with such ferocity and determination? At first, Bruce chalked it up to empathy. Seeing another child crying after his parents were murdered was something Batman and Robin could relate to.

✦ Last Night of Sadness by gothamshero (emhyr), dick & bruce & slade & william cobb, 6.1k     Dick Grayson has to take liberties when he’s a civilian, but he still knows when he’s being followed.

✦ Starlings in Winter by FromStarstuff, dick & bruce & clark & cast, 18k wip     When Dick was eleven years old he ran away from Gotham. No one could quite figure out why. Take your pick; there was a fight at school, a circus in town, and a song he can’t remember the melody of. Eleven-year-old Dick Grayson was flooded with grief, swimming in it, perpetually drowning. One day it was too much.

✦ What Defines A Father by Browniesarethebest, dick & bruce & justice league & cast, 7.7k wip     Batman hasn't known the newly formed Justice League long enough to trust them, but he's willing to put everything on the line when the one thing he cares for most is taken somewhere he can't easily follow.

✦ Stolen Son by springfox (dallystrings), dick & bruce & cast, 8.6k     Bruce’s heartbeat sped up, but he leveled his breathing to remain clear headed. After another thirty seconds he abandoned the cart and walked briskly through the store, searching every row in a growing panic. “Dick?” he called, “Dick, can you hear me? Where are you, chum?”

BATFAM FIC RECS - ADULT BATSON AND BATDAD ARE MY KRYPTONITE, I FOLD LIKE WET CARDBOARD FOR THEM: ✦ Learning Experience by strikeyourcolors, dick & bruce, 2.3k     "Does it ever get easier?" Dick asks. Bruce isn't technically old enough to be his father biologically, but those deep blue eyes are looking at him as a child beseeching a parent. "Some nights I feel like I can't do this anymore, Bruce. I can't be Nightwing."

✦ Rainbow Puppies by zombiesbecrazy, dick & bruce, 2.4k     Bruce really wanted to hate Pamela Isley right now, but all that he could focus on was how much he admired the way she passionately fought for her beliefs and how he could applaud her application of her educational background into practical endeavors to her cause, however misguided. Being hit with one of Ivy's toxins has Bruce babbling like a fool.

✦ the business of the very few by dustorange, dick & bruce, 4.2k     “I was trying,” Bruce says, “to respect your privacy.”

✦ notches in the door frame by dizarys, dick & bruce, 2.1k     Bruce hadn't been prepared for his days or nights to feel so empty. And he wasn't sure how to interact with the young man before him now. Because Robin didn't need Batman anymore. --- A patrol gone wrong forces Bruce and Dick to finally talk about Robin becoming Nightwing and feelings they'd been avoiding.

✦ No Comfort in the Shade by mx_chrx99, dick & bruce, 3.4k     Dick Grayson is having a hard time and Bruce is there to help.

✦ The Long Distance by takadainmate, dick & bruce, 1.2k     Down here they're not Batman and Nightwing. They’re Bruce Wayne and Dick Grayson. But they still fight.

BATFAM FIC RECS - EVERYBODY LOVES DICK: ✦ tender will fall by dizarys, dick & bruce & donna & jason & cast, 3.5k     When the Titans are devastated in an attack, they go to Batman in a last ditch effort to rescue one of their own.

✦ the hardest part by emavee, dick & bruce & jason & tim & damian & cass, no powers au, 5.8k     Dick is dreading his eighteenth birthday and everything that it means for him as a foster kid. His time with his family is running out, and he needs to be prepared for what comes next, to be on his own again.

✦ 5 Times Dick Grayson Was Grateful for His Insomnia + 1 Time He Wasn't by avengemyheart, dick & bruce & jason & tim & damian & alfred & wally, 5.7k     Dick can't sleep, but that's a good thing. He finds himself helping the people he cares about late at night throughout the years. Eventually though, everyone realizes just how intense his insomnia can get. Or: A 5 +1 thing about Dick's insomnia.

✦ A Darker Shade of Gotham by JackHawksmoor, dick & bruce & tim & alfred, 8.3k wip     Dick and Tim are stuck in a crappy alternate universe where most of the heroes they know are dead, Bruce Wayne's bad health meant he never became Batman, and Tony Zucco runs Gotham City's underworld. When Dick is shot by the mob, they take a risk and go to Bruce for help. Alternate Bruce didn't have children, but as he gets to know Dick and Tim, he starts wishing he did.

✦ leave as though fire burns under your feet by perissologist, dick & bruce & jason & tim & damian & cast, read the tags, 33k     That glow is gone, now. Gone from Dick’s skin, gone from inside him. It used to shine out of him, out of all the cracks the world put in him. But now Bruce looks down at him, and he is as dark and cold as a snuffed star. That’s what gets to him the most—not how cold the morgue is under its colorless fluorescent lighting, or the cloying smell of formaldehyde that clogs his throat. It’s how still Dick is, on the cold, sterile surface of the examiner’s table. It’s unnatural. The boy never learned how to sit still.

✦ papers say it's doomsday by dottie_dc (dottie_wan_kenobi), dick & bruce & donna & cast, 2.5k     Half-laughing at his own joke, Nightwing starts to say, “He just doesn’t—” In the space of one word, one breath, and the next—the world ends.

✦ Ibn al Xu'ffasch by hellsreluctantheir, dick & bruce & damian & jason & cast, 16.2k     Batman when they’d thought Bruce was dead was one kettle of fish. Batman when the original Batman was around was another. In his head, Robin—perched on a gargoyle next to him—tutted like an eighty-year-old, and rolled his eyes like the kid he was.

BATFAM FIC RECS - BATKIDS ALL HAVE MANY SIBLINGS AND THEY'RE ALL PETTY ASSHOLES AND/OR WONDERFUL BABIES AND I LOVE THEM WITH MY WHOLE BEING: ✦ our aspirations are wrapped up in books by theragingstorm, damian & barbara & cast, 1.8k     Damian's been confined to bed rest. Someone unexpected helps him.

✦ remind me why I'm here again? by dizarys, bruce & dick & jason & tim & damian & cass & bernard(/tim), 3.5k     Jason's at a Wayne gala. He doesn't want to be. Good thing his siblings are there too. "Were we mean?" Dick mused, "Or just being big brothers?" "He's holding your hoodie hostage." "You're right. We went too easy on him."

✦ put away childish things by bittlebarnes (monroesherlock), dick & damian & clark & jon & barbara & ma kent, 7.2k     "I was sent here as a punishment, surely," Damian deadpans. "Are you feeling punished?" Martha sounds like she’s laughing at him. Unacceptable. "Absolutely."

✦ a hero by hellsreluctantheir, bruce & dick & jason, 15.5k     Dick Grayson died in Amusement Mile. Four years later, Jason Todd is Robin. But he's not dressed in the costume when he hears about a new player in Crime Alley; a man in a red helmet.

✦ Improvise A Symphony by cabezas_de_vaca, bruce & dick & alfred & cast, 5.5k     Or: three generations of Wayne and Wayne-adjucacent men do their absolute best.

✦ The Second Stage by nightwalker, tim & jason & bruce & dick & damian, 8.2k     All Tim wants is to take a shower, get something to eat, and try to wear off the effects of Ivy's stupid pollen in peace. So of course tonight is the night Jason decides to start acting like a brother.

BATFAM FIC RECS - I CUT MY TEETH ON DICK & TIM AS CLOSE BROTHERS AND NO ONE WILL NOT TAKE IT FROM ME: ✦ Red Letter Day by silverwhittlingknife, dick & tim & damian & cast, 41.8k wip     Dick Grayson, stressed pseudo-parent to a preteen assassin, tries to solve the case of Damian’s Mysterious Wednesday. He never expected it to help him fix his relationship with Tim, too. (... Though only after everything fell apart first.)

✦ I know it's just a number but you're the eighth wonder by orphan_account, dick & tim, 1.2k     Dick gets sick. Set before their lives implode on them, so Dick’s Nightwing and Tim’s still an itty bitty Robin.

✦ it's been a long time now (i'm with you) by centreoftheselights, dick & tim, 1.8k     Tim has been noticing some strange things about his life. He isn't the only one.

✦ Little Do You Know by sardonic_sprite, dick & tim & ra's, 2.2k     "So," Tim said quietly. "You're here to break me out I guess." "Yes," came out in a choked sob. "Then you're wasting your time."

✦ pain/release by unchosenone, dick & tim, 4k     Dick goes to check on a wayward brother in the middle of yet another Gotham Toxin (TM), and Tim has a bad time.

✦ I'd Fly Far Away From Here by Sohotthateveryonedied, dick & tim & jack, 3.5k     Tim stacks his fries onto his burger patty in a crosshatch, covering every spare inch in a layer of salty potato and grease. “It all happened kind of fast. Dad and I got into this huge fight, and it’s not very dignified to go back upstairs for my wallet and then storm out.” Dick is quiet while he eats his sandwich, trying to figure this out. “Dick?” “I’m just—trying to think if I should call Bruce first or your dad.”

✦ A Collective End to a Harmony by 061828, dick & tim, 1.2k     A drop of water falls into an ocean, a house’s wooden skeleton has its last nail screwed into place, an old book’s first page finally crumbles off, and Tim Drake turns twenty years old.

✦ young numb and broken by wingedgrace, dick & tim & cast, read the tags, 1.1k     His bare feet were covered in cold, damp sand, and he could barely feel them. Well, he could feel them, but they didn’t seem to be connected to his body. Or maybe it was him that wasn’t connected to his body. (or: poor Dick Grayson needs some love and a chance to catch his breath.)

✦ there's an endless road to rediscover by Zahri, dick & tim & cast, 1.2k     Sometimes the only way to show that you've moved on and forgiven each other is to take a flying tackle from the ceiling. Dick and Tim know each other's demonstrations of affection. Damian doesn't.

✦ spread your wings by wingedgrace, dick & tim & cast, 2.1k     “Why did you give Robin to Damian?” Dick pinched his nose. He’d started to pick up some of Batman’s habits, whether he realized it or not. “Tim, we’re not talking about this again. We’re talking about how you’re off on this… quest, to prove that Bruce is still alive. And I just want to talk. Come home.” Tim didn’t budge. “Why did you give Robin to Damian?”

BATFAM FIC RECS - DICK/BABS FOREVER AND YOU CAN SHUT IT IF YOU DISAGREE, THEY'RE ADORABLE TOGETHER: ✦ Taking Turns by mx_chrx99, dick/babs, 2.3k     Tim had practically begged Dick to get a flu shot. He probably should've listened.

✦ The Summer of Her Discontent by dotfic, dick/babs, 7.8k     Batgirl contends with her feelings after Dick leaves Gotham.

✦ Thirteen Hours by dotfic, dick/babs, 7.9k     Set during "Knight Time," during their trip to Romania, Dick and Babs start healing some old wounds.

✦ The Night the Lights Went out in Gotham by dotfic, dick/babs & bruce & tim & jim & cast, 13.8k     "When it comes to emotions, even great heroes can be idiotic."-from Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon

✦ Regular People by zombiesbecrazy, dick/babs, 1.6k     All sorts of people can enjoy a good sunrise over the city after a long night. Why should heroes of Gotham be any different?

✦ strawberry milkshakes by brandywine421, dick/babs & bruce, 2.8k     Why is Bruce bringing Dick? It's not an emergency alert, or medical - just an alert. She should have put in her comm - if it was a simple pit stop they had safehouses, but - Batman dangles Dick's keys in her direction at the door but she's glad he didn't come through the window. She looks past him to catch Dick's attention and - something's wrong.

BATFAM FIC RECS - I WILL DIE ON THE HILL THAT TIM DRAKE'S TRUE LOVE INTEREST IS CONNER KENT AND NOBODY CAN STOP ME, NOT EVEN GOD: ✦ Stay for breakfast and also forever by Ididloveyou_once, tim/kon & bruce, 2k     Conner turns up in the middle of the night after a mission gone wrong. Tim learns that seeing Conner cry makes him feel like his heart has been torn out of his chest.

✦ Think Cupid, But Aim Lower by NevernightUnderRainbows, tim/kon & bruce & cassie & bart, 2.3k     Or, the Batfamily will make sure Tim gets his guy, even if it entails a lot of beating around the bush, dropping hints so veiled that they can be misconstrued surprisingly easily, and basically giving the bird and his clone boy a headache in the process

✦ The Once and Future Bat by LilliputianDuckling, tim/kon & some kon/cassie & dick & roy & martha & anita & cast, 16k     Tim realizes it was a mistake to clone Conner when he ends up with a baby on his hands at sixteen years old. Well, Jackie's his now. Where does he go from here?

✦ there you were by mindshelter, tim/kon & cassie & bart & martha, 19.5k wip     “You know, the cool thing about me,” Tim says, voice gone quiet and petal-soft, “is that even when I didn’t care whether I lived or not, I was pretty goddamn hard to kill.” Kon sighs, eyes glued to his feet. His hand is still encircled around Tim’s arm, trailing up to the bend of his elbow.

✦ time flies by by Laroyena, tim/kon & clark & jon & lex, 6.5k     Jon Kent is Superboy. Tim's gut instinct tells him that's wrong. (Timkon fix-it where reboot!Tim misses Kon like a phantom limb. And then he gets him back.)

✦ Tangled by thewhitestag, tim/kon, NSFW, 4.1k     Kon doesn’t want to be that person, always waiting, wondering if the next time will be more than just two friends messing around.

✦ you put your arms around me and i'm home by merils, tim/kon, 4.5k     Kon's acting a little odd after a close call. Tim ponders the potential causes.

BATFAM FIC RECS - TAKE THE ANGST DIAL, TURN IT UP TO ELEVEN, AND BREAK THE KNOB OFF, THAT'S WHAT I'M HERE FOR: ✦ Bereft by glassofwater, dick & bruce & cast, 4.7k     Laying on his back, shoulder brushing up against debris, Dick closes his eyes briefly. He doesn’t want to die, has no intention to do so tonight, but he is scared. The blood on his side pumps out of him with each thump of his heart, beating at a rate too fast for Dick to properly count. That shouldn’t be right, he shouldn’t even be awake and struggling at the moment, but the luck that hangs over Gotham is a mysterious one; it doesn’t favor anyone and yet…

✦ fun and games by prismatical, bruce & dick & jason & tim & barbara & stephanie & duke & cast, 78.6k     The Joker's loose, and the Batman isn't in Gotham. The family struggles to hold itself together as everything else spins out of control.

✦ Bone Weary by TheSilencer, bruce & dick & jason & tim & damian & cass & steph & duke, 8.1k     "You cannot reach out until you reach in." Dick assumed the words were metaphorical. They weren't. Or Dick Grayson is cursed, and the cure is not any better.

✦ What These Hands Have Done by WinterSky101, bruce & dick & jason & tim & damian & cass & steph & alfred & cast, 14k     Dick is mind controlled into attacking his family. Unsurprisingly, he takes the whole thing very badly.

✦ All The Small Things by Geeves, dick & bruce & damian & cast, 20.1k     After Bruce's return to the Bat, Dick and Damian have to deal with just being brothers, but things are just a bit too messy to be that easy

✦ All Our Broken Parts by mx_chrx99, bruce & dick & jason & dick/babs & cast, 28.1k wip     Jason will not let this happen again. He can't. But what if he's already too late?

[moonlight-prose]

✧ SAFE HAVEN ✧

a/n: as of right now i am behind on kinktober, but that's okay. i'll catch up. this fic was originally based on another wip i have of shower sex with joel, but that one is a more in depth angsty one. so i decided to just write a new one. there can never be too many shower sex with joel fics right?

day eleven - shower sex | kinktober 2023

summary: "being with Joel felt like breathing. as if you’d stepped outside for the first time in eons, soaking in the fresh air that emanated from the trees. it was clear. a constant fixated piece of nature that you knew would never fade."

word count: 1.8k+

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

warnings: EXPLICIT SO MINORS DNI, shower sex, soft joel, what it means to love someone you want to grow old with, gratuitous prose about romance, p in v sex, fingering, dirty talk, tenderness.

Jackson had been good to you. More than most places in this world; some attempting to carve a piece of you to leave behind. Little bits of your soul now scattered amongst the decay of what used to be. What you could no longer recognize in the broken streets and fallen buildings.

But Jackson was different.

You wanted to say it was because of Tommy and Maria’s warm welcome. The people’s willingness to live in peace once more after so much horror, so much grief. And while those facts still rang true, you knew the reason why you chose to settle. Why you moved into a house that was a little rickety, old in all its beauty, and remained with the one person who understood you. Who you could count on to keep you safe, keep the life you’d built steady.

The warm water of the shower had become a luxury you took advantage of as often as humanly possible. When traveling for months at a time without even a moment to get clean, this was truly something special. The small amount of shampoo you had washed down the drain, your forehead leaning against the cold tile as the hot spray of water hit your back. It loosened up the overly tight muscles—your body having been through the wear and tear of surviving.

You didn’t hear the door open, or even notice the soft thud of his boots as he left them by the door, his hands reaching for his clothes. It wasn’t until he was pulling back the shower curtain did your eyes fly open. The instinct to cover up overtaking you, until your eyes met the warmth of his brown ones. The exhaustion, clear on his face.

“Wonderin’ where you were,” he said, stepping in next to you, reaching for the homemade soap you’d picked up in town.

“Long day?”

He sighed and that was all you needed to understand how the day went. So you turned fully, took the soap from his hands, and got to work lathering it along his skin. The days may be filled with peace, but everyone still remained on edge. Still wary that their safe haven would one day be destroyed.

Joel more than anyone understood what this place meant to people. How hard they fought to keep it going, to keep themselves protected. Which meant he was out longer than necessary, working with Tommy to make sure that Jackson ran as smoothly as possible. Some nights he’d crawl into your bed, half awake and fighting sleep. Other nights you found yourself alone, only to wake up with the remaining warmth on the sheets where he’d been.

“Lean down,” you instructed, smoothing the shampoo between your fingers and dragging it through his untamed curls. The gray was more prominent than before, nearly covering most of his hair, but you found it sexier than before.

It was a sign that he was willing to keep his word when you first fell for one another. He was determined to grow old with you. To wither away in this house and make it a home. You wondered if that’s why he was so adamant on protecting this town. Risking his life any chance he could to make sure nothing happened. He wanted the certainty, the knowledge that there was somewhere to grow old.

“You take care of me,” he murmured, letting the suds run down into the drain, his hands draped over your hips.

You grinned. “Someone has to.”

There was an unspoken understanding between the two of you. An invisible rope that tied you to him to sight you swore it would never snap. Which is why he simply smiled. The skin around his eyes crinkled slightly as he caught your lips in a tender kiss. Tugging you closer until your bare chest pressed to his. And for a moment you swore you could feel the rope tighten—writing the narrative of your future together. Permanently carving it out in time.

“Turn around,” he said against your cheek, hands guiding you until your back was pressed to his chest—hands now placed against the shower wall. “Gonna take care of you now darlin’.”

“You don’t have—”

The smack that echoed in the room had the slight sting of pain blooming on your ass. It silenced you immediately, your lips parting and eyes fluttering shut. Slick pooled in the soft curls around your pussy, that glutinous warmth you longed to sink into now gathering at the base of your stomach.

“I know I don’t have to.” His hands spread apart your ass, staring at the tight ring of muscles that peeked out at him like a fucking prize. Pressing his thumb against it, he grinned at the way your body jerked, head falling forward—a guttural moan bouncing off the walls. “This ain’t about have to. I want to.”

Being with Joel felt like breathing. As if you’d stepped outside for the first time in eons, soaking in the fresh air that emanated from the trees. It was clear. A constant fixated piece of nature that you knew would never fade. He was the earth beneath your feet, the cloud in your blue sky, the sole reason you were here now giving into his touch. 

A soft kiss was pressed to your shoulder, a tender show of love in contrast to the filthy way he spread you with his fingers. Finding your clit with ease. You sagged against the wall, a moan crackling through the air, and that urged him to keep going. To press two fingers into your soaking cunt, curling them until you bowed forward, a distorted version of his name leaving your mouth.

“Right there darlin’?”

You both knew he didn’t have to ask. He knew that he was pressing right where you needed him—your walls tightening around his fingers. Joel was simply enjoying this allotted time. He was going to take you apart bit by bit until you had no sense left in your bones, and you were going to take it.

Nodding frantically, you felt him drag his fingers out, plunging them back in with a speed that nearly gave you whiplash. You were sensitive after weeks of nothing. But Joel could see the need on your face. He noticed how your body was pulled tight, stiff with the day's heaviness weighing on your shoulders. You took on too much; believed that you could handle whatever the world threw at you. Which you did.

Yet you never allowed a moment to be taken care of—never gave into something you didn’t deserve. Joel supposed that’s where you shared similarities. You reflected one another, each stubborn in your own impossible way. Both too afraid to admit that sometimes…you needed someone to lean on.

“Cum on my fingers and I’ll fuck you,” he grunted against your ear, speeding up until a high pitched whine tore from your throat. “Wanna taste it honey. Miss your sweet fuckin’ taste.”

“A-Ah f-fuc—” His thumb collided with your clit, circling it quickly until you had no choice but to follow his words. Your body went rigid, mouth falling open in a stuttered cry as you broke, spilling on his fingers—your heart cracking wide just a bit more.

True to his word he dragged his fingers out and placed them at his lips, sucking your release clean off his skin until nothing remained. You were an aphrodisiac to his senses. The nectar of the gods come down to gift him with your delicious sweetness. Yet no matter how much Joel indulged…it was never enough. A hunger had started in his body, turning his once hollow heart into something ravenous. Craving one thing day after day. You.

“Joel,” you whimpered, pressing back against his throbbing cock. “Please.”

He sucked in a sharp breath at the sound of the beg falling from your lips. An echo that he wanted to sear into his mind.

“I got you darlin’.” Pumping his cock, he notched the head against your entrance, feeling your walls flutter around nothing—begging him to move just a bit further. To fill any emptiness that still lingered in your chest.

And who was he to deny you? Who was he to resist your siren-like call?

Gritting his teeth, he sunk into you with one smooth thrust, choking on his spit when you clamped down around him. Nearly shoving him off the edge before he could start. His hands found purchase on your hips, fingers digging painfully into your already tender skin, before he set a pace so brutal it nearly made your legs collapse. A low rumbling sound tore from his chest, reverberating against your back when he began to fuck you with enough strength to shove cries out of you with every thrust.

“Not gonna last honey,” he grunted, dragging you back onto his cock with every shove of his hips into your body. “Perfect fuckin’ pussy. Made for me.”

Your eyes rolled back when his cock nudged against your cervix, the sensation obliterating in all its bliss. Fingers slid against the wet walls of the shower, legs trembling as he held you up with one arm, dragging your body even closer. Until his hand was pressed against your throat, lips by your ear.

With every thrust you could hear the harsh breaths he let out. The deep growls and moans that were like another flame licking its way up your body. Digging your nails into his hips you felt yourself reach another peak, higher than the last. You wouldn’t last another five seconds and he knew it. Could tell by the way you slowly tightened around him with every stunted thrust.

“Touch yourself for me.” His fingers pressed against your throat, your hand dropping to rub quick circles over your clit. “Feel how wet you are honey.”

“Oh g-god,” you choked, back arching into his hold.

“Gonna have to clean you up after I’m done.” A garbled sound reached his ears, making him smile. “You want that? Want me to lick myself out of ya?”

Your eyes rolled back, body going taut as you exploded, a shout bouncing off the walls and ringing in his ears. Joel grunted, grinding his hips into your ass and wrapping himself around you. He spilled into your wet heat, filling you with a warmth that wracked your body with a shudder. A soft moan breaking through the daze you were in. The steam of the shower clung to your bodies, pressing the heat against your chests until it was almost too hard to breathe.

But he refused to move.

He cradled you close, head dropping to your shoulder as his cock softened in you—cum trickling down your inner thigh slowly. He kept you close because Joel had never felt more safe than he did now. You were the person he longed to see at the end of every day. The one who kissed all his wounds, healed his heart with your soft touches and joy filled laughs. You were his forever. 

His very own safe haven.

[wolfjackle-creates]

Ghost!Robin Part 8

Look at you lucky ducks! Two WIP Wednesday excerpts today! I'm afraid you won't be able to get used to it. Going forward I may update each fic on alternating weeks. I have a busy few months coming up if everything goes to plan and could use the buffer in case I can't get much writing done. We'll see, though.

I'm going to start leaving a fic summary at the beginning of every excerpt in case people find this in the wild and want to know what they're getting into.

Summary: Danny is finally going to meet Jazz's boyfriend Jason. At Jason's family's mansion. He spent weeks making sure he could have an evening off of any Ghost King business. But when he meets Jason on the steps of the mansion, he can barely pay attention to the guy because his focus is on the ghost of the dead Robin hanging off his shoulders. Who is very happy to find someone who can actually see him.

Word Count: 1.4k

First, Previous

----------

“Right. Um… Well, I do just kinda do whatever is necessary or find someone who can. Because, um, well, I’m… kinda the High King of the Infinite Realms? There’s a bunch more titles after that but I refuse to memorize them because ugh.”

Danny looked down at his plate, not wanting to see everyone’s reactions. Jazz must’ve made sure he got a piece of pie because it sat in front of him. It looked so good. Did they even know about the Infinite Realms? Justice League Dark members did, but did Batman? Jazz reached over and took his hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

Tim and Barbara’s typing seemed to get faster. And then a pair of pixie boots and legs settled on the table next to his plate. He looked up and met Robin’s eyes.

Robin reached out an poked Danny on the nose. He gave a little trill of safe, friends drawing a smile out of Danny.

At the same time, Duke exclaimed, “That’s why you have a crown!”

And Steph said, “Okay, I may be out of the loop, but what the hell are the Infinite Realms?”

Damian snorted. “Aren’t you too young to be a king of anything?”

Danny half stood. “Look, do you want to go spar or something? Is that why you keep picking fights? Because we can do that. Fighting is good for young liminals. But I really don’t think this is the time or place.”

Jazz groaned and dragged him back into his seat. “Stop it, Danny. You’re on Earth right now.” Speaking over Danny’s protests, she explained to Damian, “We wish. Managed to get them to delay until he turned eighteen at least, but his grandfather wouldn’t let us wait any longer than that.”

Danny let the fight drop, but he did notice how Damian’s grip on his spoon tightened. Looked like they would be having that spar tonight if Damian had anything to say about it. Still, Jazz was right and he had to follow human customs on Earth so he bumped his sister’s shoulder and spoke to her instead. “You know as well as I do that he would’ve if it was possible. But thanks to Pariah, there are things that haven’t been done in a thousand years and it’s been causing so many problems.”

“Steph,” said Barbara. “The Infinite Realms are the spaces between universes according to Constantine. His documentation states that the Realm’s inhabitants are all incredibly overpowered and should not be approached under any circumstances. Just one being can evade all methods of capture with standard supplies.”

Jazz nodded. “And our parents dedicated their lives to building a portal to the Infinite Realms, or the Ghost Zone as they call it, and destroying all ghosts.”

“By ‘ghosts,’” asked Bruce, “Do you mean beings from these Infinite Realms?”

Jazz nodded. “Yes. Most beings from the Infinite Realms come into being when a living creature dies in a traumatic way, with a lot of emotion, or near a large source of ectoplasm. Usually some combination of all three.”

Both Tim and Bruce tried to ask further questions, but Jason’s voice cut in over theirs. “Jazz, when you say your parents wanted to ‘destroy all ghosts,’ did they stop after Danny’s accident?” Jason’s question did, at least, cause silence to fall as everyone stared at the two siblings.

Jazz looked down and gripped the tablecloth tightly, jaw clenched. Now it was Danny’s turn to lay a comforting hand over hers.

“No,” Danny said. “They didn’t. They didn’t know what happened for several years and when they found out… Well, there’s a reason I can’t use their last name and Jazz won’t call them ‘Mom’ or ‘Dad’ anymore. But”—Danny clapped his hands—“this is a great segway into what is actually important. Does the Justice League know about the Guys in White? More formally known as the Ghost Investigation Ward? Or even just GIW?”

“That name is unfamiliar to me,” said Bruce.

Tim agreed. “Babs and I aren’t seeing anything in the JL databases.”

Even Robin just shrugged.

Danny didn’t expect the jolt of pain that sent through his chest and Jazz turned their hands around until they were gripping each other’s hands with more force than any baseline human would’ve been able to.

“I told you, Danny. They didn’t know. They didn’t know.” Her eyes were wet, but she forced a shaky smile. “You could’ve had help.”

Danny just shook his head. “Even if I had believed they didn’t know… Without meeting them, without knowing how many of their own were in danger, I would’ve never trusted them. Too many people rely on me for me to risk it.”

“Care to enlighten the rest of us?” asked Dick. His posture was relaxed, but his voice had an edge that hadn’t been there earlier.

Robin nodded from where he sat staring at Danny. He sent out a questioning Danger? pulse at Danny.

“Yeah, danger,” agreed Danny. “Barbara, Tim, if I give you a law code number, can you pull up the law I’m referring to?”

“Of course,” agreed Barbara. “Just a moment… And shoot.”

Danny gave them the code for the Anti-Ecto Acts. “The Guys in White are the government agency responsible for enforcing the Anti-Ecto Acts which classify all ‘ectoplasmic entities’”—he made the air quotes—“as non-sentient and non-sapient and excludes us from the metahuman protection acts.”

“What the fuck!” shouted Duke.

Next to Danny, Dick suddenly was sitting up tense. “That’s impossible.”

“The league would’ve noticed such an act being passed,” said Damian, though he didn’t look as sure as his words would seem.

Cass merely tilted her head and looked at him while Steph choked on her drink.

Bruce looked to Tim and Barbara. “Is this true?” he asked them.

Robin pointed to himself and mouthed the word ‘Me?’ at Danny.

“I’m afraid so. And Bruce, Cass, Steph, and Damian as well.”

Dick’s spluttering got louder. “How are they all in danger?” he demanded to know.

Before Danny could reply, Tim was speaking. “It’s all true. And far worse than Danny implied. Not only are ecto-entities not protected by the metahuman protection laws, but they are to be actively hunted and turned over to the GIW for experimentation and extermination and anyone who assists them is declared guilty of treason.”

“When did they pass?” asked Bruce.

“Four years ago,” said Barbara. “While Luthor was president. They were hidden in some laws about green energy.”

“Ghost are made of ectoplasm,” explained Jazz. “Ectoplasm is a fantastic energy source.”

“It happened a few months after I defeated the previous king but before my coronation,” added Danny.

“Why do you think myself, Damian, Cass, Stephanie, and Jason will be targeted by this Ghost Investigation Ward?”

“It’ll be easier to show you.” Danny reached down and pulled up his bag. The thing was made in Pandora’s realm and was bigger on the inside. Once open, it took him a moment to find what he was looking for. He could see Robin signing to the group next to him. “Here we are,” Danny said as he pulled out three devices. “These are all different ectoplasm detection devices. One is my own design, one is the Guys in White’s design, and one is my parent’s design. I’ll show you mine first because it’s the best.”

“Might be a dumb question,” started Dick, “but what the hell is ectoplasm?”

“So you know how all the elements in this universe came about from nuclear fusion of hydrogen in the cores of stars?” asked Danny. When most everyone nodded, he continued, “In the Infinite Realms, that base element is ectoplasm. But there’s no need for a star to transform it into anything else. It will mold to the shape any consciousness that interacts with it wants. When sentient creatures slip through, either by a portal or through death or any other means, they shape the part of the Realm they’re in to their will. The stronger the ghost, the larger the area they control.” Holding out his hands, Danny called forth a ball of ectoplasm, shaping it into a glowing-green ice duck. “Something like this,” he commented grinning around the table.

Only to be met with horrified looks as most of the table were staring at his hands with distrust. Damian had his knife out again. Jason, his gun with the other arm held protectively in front of Jazz. Bruce was standing and Cass tense.

“What’s wrong?” asked Danny. “It’s just an ice duck sculpture. Completely harmless.”

Jason’s voice was low and threatening. “It’s an ice duck made of Lazarus water.”

More alarming than his voice was the way his eyes glowed ecto-green and the fear-anger that filled the room.

----------

Next

Challenge: Stay on one topic for more than two sentences.

Outcome: Failed.

They keep getting side tracked with more questions. And Danny still hasn't had a bite of his pie. This evening will never be over.

Tag List Part 1

@addie-lover-of-stories, @justwannabecat, @gin2212, @amercurio, @regonold, @overtherose, @readerzj, @sjrose1216, @echoednonny, @deeterzz, @blu-lilac, @number-one-jew, @rowanaway-fromthisbs, @vythika96, @tired-yet-awaken, @themirrorghost, @emeraldcorpral, @all-mights-asscheeks, @darkhinauniverse, @blep-23, @phandomhyperfixationblog, @larkcoe1, @thegatorsgoose, @job-ross-the-second, @britcision, @lenacraft, @bubblemixer, @androgynouslordofescapism, @purefrickingspite, @leftmiraclechaos, @lizisipancardo, @starlight-sparks, @miraculousandmore, @gildedphoenix, @sometimesthingsfallapart, @letmesayfuxk, @phoenixcatch7, @skulld3mort-1fan, @abaowo, @dhampir-princess, @idkmrpianoman, @sarina-elais, @ballzfrog-blog, @undead-essence, @spookytragedyshark, @flyingpansaurus, @akintoabitch, @marivictal, @8-29pm, @justreadingthefanfics, @happybear135, @kisatamao, @spoopyspoony, @adorablechaos, @sara0055, @screamingtofillthevoid

Looks like 50 is the limit for active user tags in a post. Good to know

[viperwhispered]

I just wanna take a moment to say thank you for always being around to chat since I don't have many to talk to about TWST. I also suck at characterization so I don't write many fics. But I was very happy when you used one of our discussions for Revel in You. I don't mind if you use our convos to write, just be sure to credit the source.

On that note: saw your smut posts. Here's an idea: Jamil celebrating his promotion to being a Housewarden.

It's Friday, there's an enormous party going on to celebrate Jamil and Kalim's new roles and the successes of the first month with this new dynamic. While Jamil is more accustomed to the spotlight, he still gets "tired out" and leaves it to Kalim to keep the party going and organize the clean up crew. After all, he's due for a more private celebration of his own.

Fun fact: for a good chunk of snake species, the male will bite the females neck to hold them down while mating.

Imagine Jamil relentlessly taking his beloved from behind, deciding they're wriggling a bit too much. Delighting in the sounds they make as he pulls them towards him by the hair, he just bites the back of their neck as his body pins them to the bed. They'll probably be annoyed by morning, but Jamil's already got some concealers beforehand.

Did I forget to mention it's a Friday, Jamil no longer has roomates, and pretty much the entire dorm is still partying to loud music several hallways away?

Also worth mentioning that, as a healthy mature couple, all of Jamil's jealousy and possessiveness is addressed in a healthy manner so the relationship never turns toxic. This statement does not apply to the bedroom.

Aww thank you, always happy to talk with you too 😊 Plus like, if you’d rather talk over messages sometime in addition to the asks, feel free. (And this applies to anyone else reading this post too.)

Yeah iirc I was thinking a bit if I should ask you about using that ask as a jumping off point for To Revel in You, but I figured I was using it more as inspiration rather than rewriting anything you wrote or anything like that. And that since you sent that ask in the first place, I did kinda assume it would be okay to build off it. But good to hear I wasn’t wrong in thinking so, and glad you liked it.

As for characterization & writing: it really is a matter of practice, I’d say. Plus, like, everyone is bound to interpret the characters in a different way, or focus on different aspects of them. Which can be freeing, in a way, knowing that you can bring to the table something that no one else can, certainly not in the same exact way you would.

Also I was actually thinking of asking for some writing prompts since the current wip seems to need a bit more time to marinate, and here you are with perfect timing.

So let’s see what I can do with this concept.

If it wasn’t obvious: smut ahead. Written with fem / afab reader in mind but I think this could be read gender neutral as well since the only specific body detail mentioned is that reader has hair long enough for Jamil to grab.

The day - and the week, and the month - had been such a whirlwind that even Jamil had had trouble keeping up with it all.

Tonight, Jamil had basked in the praises from his dormmates, their congratulations and glowing words - and noted the cautious looks of those who still had not forgotten the events of his overblot.

He had enjoyed food that was not made by him, watched others fuss over the preparations and the serving - well, as much as he had been able to keep himself from giving direction. Still, even he had not been able to oversee every single detail, as much as he wanted to.

After all, both you and Kalim had been quite insistent, in your own ways, that this celebration should be for him, not by him.

So Jamil had danced, eaten, drank, listened, talked, so much so that now when the night was beginning to turn towards morning, he had more than had his fill.

Besides, tired as he may be of the crowd, there was still something on his agenda that he was more than happy to indulge in.

You had been teasing him with promises of a more private celebration - starting from when the party was decided on all the way to when you had been dancing together earlier - and Jamil intended to finally collect his reward.

You were outside for a moment of fresh air and quiet when Jamil found you, wrapping his arms around you from behind and nipping your ear.

“I remember someone promising to be mine tonight,” he murmured, voice low and husky.

You shivered, feeling Jamil’s lips on your neck. You’d half expected him to be too tired to turn your teasing into action. Yet, you certainly welcomed this turn of events, your own tiredness washed away by Jamil’s eager touch and his tempting whispers.

“You know me. Always love - ahhh - spoiling you,” you said - your words turning into a gasp when Jamil licked the side of your neck.

In no time at all you found yourself in Jamil’s room - as easy as it was to be distracted by each other, you both still preferred the privacy over lingering in the common areas of the dorm.

Jamil’s mouth was hungry on yours, his hands working quickly to rid you of your clothes.

Sometimes you wondered just how much Jamil was holding back in the presence of others, for him to get so ravenous as soon as you two were alone.

Not that you were any different, pulling away that long belt from Jamil’s hips so that you could slip your hands under his shirt, your lips covering every available bit of his skin with kisses.

It was always delicious, your naked bodies tangled together. That heady feeling of each other, both of you grasping and kissing wherever you could, like you could never quite feel enough of the other.

“So what would mister housewarden ask of me tonight?” you asked with a playful grin, nuzzling your nose against Jamil’s.

There was undeniable hunger in the way Jamil looked at you, yet also the warmth and softness of your lover that always filled your heart to the brim.

“Just all of you, albi,” Jamil murmured, pushing you down onto the mattress.

You’d entertained ideas of a celebratory blowjob, of taking care of Jamil tonight. But if he’d rather help himself to you, you were certainly not going to say no.

A few orgasms later and Jamil was pounding into you, firmly holding onto your hips while your face was pressed onto the sheets. His cock was invading your insides so hard, so deep, leaving you nearly senseless. You jolted helplessly every time Jamil slammed his way all the way in, the pleasure bordering on pain as it shot through your nerves.

“Ahhh, Jamil…” you whimpered, barely aware of the spot of drool you’d left on the bed.

“Too much?” Jamil muttered, one of his hands leaving your side to instead trail a soothing path along your spine.

“...No.”

It was a lot, your senses nearly overtaken by the intensity of it all - yet you didn’t want anything less.

Still, you couldn’t help squirming, your body twitching with every thrust, yelps and moans pushed from your throat no matter how much you tried to hold them in.

“Hold still,” Jamil grunted. 

He gathered your hair in his hand, making you gasp when he tugged. You could feel the pull on your scalp, almost like Jamil wanted to rein you in - or pull your face away from the sheets so that he could hear your cries more clearly.

“You’re all mine tonight, aren’t you? Mine to have, mine to enjoy,” Jamil breathed to your ear.

“Yes, yes, yes…” you whined, aroused beyond belief.

Always his, just as he is yours - but you had no time to vocalize that thought before Jamil’s weight pushed you prone on the bed.

Your gasp was cut short, turned into a sharp cry when you felt moist pressure at the back of your neck - a bite, you realized, some instinct telling you to keep still.

Not that you had much of a choice in the matter. Jamil’s hand, still gripping your hair. His mouth, latched onto your skin. His body, holding you down.

The weight of him against your back was almost suffocating, yet in a delicious way. Like you could be closer to him like this, more connected than just skin to skin contact - or penetration - could provide.

You could feel the rolling of Jamil’s hips against your backside, the way his cock was dragging along your insides. Not as harshly as before, yet intense enough to keep you trembling and whining with the little breath you could take.

And Jamil’s mouth, his teeth, never letting go. His muffled groans such a delicious sound, making you clench around him.

Such sweet torture, and you never wanted it to end.

Taglist since this turned into fic: @colliope @crystallizsch @diodellet @jamilsimpno69 @jamilvapologist @perilous-pasta @twstgo @cannedpickledpeaches

[aloonaram]

Just wips and thoughts for how I’d write my dick grayson x wally west smut with plot

“You look like shit, Dickie.”

“Gee, thanks Walls. You’re such a loving partner.” Dick retorts, but the smile he gave afterwards, doesn’t reach his eyes.

Wally hurriedly moved to open his door wide enough to let Dick in. Wally may be the type to spout random shit, but this time, he wasn’t exaggerating—Dick looked rough. He watched worriedly as Dick slowly made his way toward their room, limping and rubbing his temple slightly as if he had a migraine.

Dick is a touchy person—it’s his main way of communicating—so his lack of it at the door was telling enough.

He knew things had been rough lately. With Bruce missing, the natural order of Dick’s family had fallen a part. Wally would be lying if he said he fully understood the magnitude of it all—that he knew how large the chasms carved by trauma must have grown between Dick and his brothers. But, what he does know, is that Dick has been pulled too thin trying to solve every problem on his own.

There’s a small, sick part of Wally that wishes Bruce would just stay gone. Not because he wants his lover to suffer even longer, but because of Bruce’s influence on Dick’s day to day life. His lover takes after Bruce in so many ways, none of which have been beneficial for his mental health. He’s the reason Dick felt like it was his job to take everything and handle it on his own. To be so independent that he refuses breaks and help that he so desperately needs. And of course, Bruce’s incapabilities as a father, forcing Dick into the role to pick up his father’s slack.

He speeds his way to their room and knocks gently on the door to alert Dick of his presence. Dick looks up from where he was previously staring in their hardwood floor and gives him a small smile. A small bud of relief blooms in Wally’s chest. He dreads of the day Dick Grayson can’t bring himself to smile.

He hangs on the door as he asks, “How was it today? If you feel okay enough to talk about it.”

Dick looks to the left, seemingly at nothing and everything. Rough, is what Wally infers.

He slowly moves towards his lover and sits gently next to him on the edge of their bed. He pushes their knees together and lets his warmth seep into Dick’s body. He’s feels his early relief grow when Dick quickly moves to press his head into Wally’s shoulder and thread their fingers together.

“It…it was rough Walls,” Dick pauses to take a deep breath. “Dami and I…we got into an argument, out on the field. It was just some—I don’t even know. Not something important enough to get distracted.” Dick closes his eyes and presses his face further into Wally’s shoulder. Wally gently lays his head on top of Dick’s and uses his other hand to rub his lover’s bruised knuckles.

“I can’t fault Dami, he’s only a kid. If I had a choice, I’d keep him off the damn field. But that’s beside the point. I fucked up Wally, I got distracted and I got a civilian fucking shot.” Wally has to fight to not tense his body so as not to make Dick uncomfortable. Not because he’s thinks it’s Dick’s fault, but because he knows. He knows this is going to weigh heavily on Dick’s conscious and he’s not sure with all the stress his life, Dick can handle more pressure.

I shall add more to this tomorrow

[lyralit]

4.1.24 - the importance of learning new things

As much as I think academic & work focus is incredibly important going into the new year, one of my other goals is to practice doing more: to learn all of the things I want to do, in addition to work, in addition to writing. I want to know how to do thousands of little things, and I think the longer we wait, the less likely we are to do them.

Picking up a new hobby doesn't have to be buying a dozen textbooks and spending hundreds of dollars on lessons because you might have the slightest interest: it can be from whatever you have here, now, and you'll never learn if you don't get started.

Some of the things I've been getting into (as I've mentioned before) are baking & crocheting. it just feels so cozy and nice & I love the idea of comfort.

here is a list of things I want to / you should try that's new!

learning a new language. fifteen minutes a day, I kid you not. I'm learning latin on duolingo and I don't ever think about it, but when I do it (25 day streak 💪🏻), I'm starting to notice my improvements

consuming good media. and that's not scrolling for half an hour on tumblr. it's books—deep ones and silly ones and ones about romance and dragons and apocalypses. it's movies! I watched keira knightley's pride and prejudice twice in the last few months, and also three men and a baby which is something I never thought I would watch, but it was quite funny I think. and I learn from it: I cannot write humour or romance for the life of me, so it's basically studying to write (is the self-gaslighting too evident?)

learning to crochet. I made a silly little headband today, after scrolling through pinterest and desperately wanting one. I started crocheting in december to give as gifts (I completed none of my wips, much like when I write) and used the tools I had around me: an old rainbow loom hook and whatever string I could find. now I'm proud to say I can read somewhat fluently crochet acronyms.

baking. I keep saying this. I know. but when I tell you a two years ago I was exploding cupcakes in the oven and last month I made bakery-style cookies...I made bread! a loaf of bread! (in a bread machine, but it's so good and I instantly made another. there is one in the bread machine right now). honestly it just made me feel that much better about improvement, and trying new things, and that is the mindset I want for the new year.

learning to code. in all honesty, I never thought I was a compsci - engineer kind of person. then this year, out of sudden (masterminded) urges, I joined a bunch of tech and robotics initiatives, and maybe it's the sense of community (I can rejoice in finding another nerdy group) but now I am happily chauffeuring myself to these meetings 4h a week. I'm looking into pursuing more into the fields of eng and science. and I'm learning some code from one of the friends I've made!

starting a blog. ...I know most of the people who linger around my blog stay for the writing content (the last posts have turned this writerblr into a digital diary, and I'm only half sorry for that). but since I've joined tumblr (almost three years ago now!) I've got to meet so many wonderful people (including you!) and want to try so many things.

and I get it. it's overwhelming. so here are some starting goals that maybe I'll try also.

start doing art. -> make a card for someone as a gift.

learn a new sport & start exercising. (I'm trying out track & field in the spring, so stay tuned to figure out how that goes) -> see if someone will come play ball with you. do 1 or 2 youtube workout videos a week.

film videos of your daily life. it doesn't need to be for posting! -> edit together clips you've taken for a last year recape.

start a scrapbook. -> print out photos and dig up construction paper. decorate a page.

make a poetry journal. -> go on pinterest to read poetry! pin styles you like and set fifteen minutes to writing.

make a regular journal! -> write once a day. just try: goals for the day in the morning, or a recap at night.

try your hand at gardening. -> research plants that grow well in your region. see if any of the seeds you may have at home are useful. water your lawn. buy a plant and try to keep it alive (set reminders, leave it in front of your sink)

learn to make candles. -> watch a youtube tutorial. see if you can play around with candles you already have.

play chess. -> see if someone will play chess with you. no? chess.com is right there. go make an account. go find a stranger.

learn to play an instrument off youtube. -> maybe you have a piano sitting around, or a guitar you've never touched. you don't even need to master it. pick a song you like and google that. no instrument? maybe there's a way to play drums with home items.

go for a run. -> once a week. a set time. just shoes and the outdoors. too cold? go to a gym and use a treadmill. maybe that's not possible? skip rope.

start / join a book club. -> just you, or some close friends, or people online. a book a month. talk about it.

** on that note, would anyone like to join a tumblr book club? slide into my asks and maybe we can get a blog list!

thank you for reading again <3 until next time.

k.

[bbcphile]

In Memory of Kiah

cw/tw: death, medical assistance in dying

If you’re wondering why I kind of disappeared from the Mysterious Lotus Casebook tag and stopped posted WIP Wednesday things, here’s the explanation: One of my closest friends, who has been dying progressively and increasingly painfully over the last two years, told me about 3 weeks ago that they were going to pursue medical assistance in dying because it is legal where they live. It was originally scheduled for the end of July, then moved up to the end of June, and then on Monday, they moved it to Wednesday (yesterday), because their life was agony and they couldn’t wait any longer.

I’m lucky that I had enough advanced notice that I was able to say goodbye–both by sending them a message telling them in detail how much they’ve meant to me and thanking them for everything, and then in one last phone call the night before–so I’m glad they knew how much I loved them and that I could be there for them emotionally, even though I couldn’t physically be there for the end itself, because they live too far away. We met on Tumblr through the chronic illness community because we share the same genetic connective tissue disorder and many of its comorbidities, and I will always be so, so grateful to Tumblr for bringing us together.

I wanted to post about them here because it just felt wrong to keep going like nothing had happened, and because I wanted to do something to pay tribute to how good a person they were and how much I miss them. So, some words about Kiah: 

Kiah was one of the kindest, funniest, intellectually curious, loving, and fiercely protective people I have ever met. I loved that we could talk about anything, including the terror of living in a failing body or how to come to terms with being disabled when you were always an overcommitted overachiever who defined yourself on external metrics of success, analyze media together during watch parties, and laugh together about literally anything (including during our last conversation, where we were both bawling our eyes out, but also somehow laughing about how absurd it is that you can’t really cry hard and talk at the same time and how that seems like a real design flaw). We didn’t share any fandoms, but we still had fun sharing details about our blorbos and fandom activities: I loved hearing about their cosplay adventures, and they always wanted to keep up to date on the metas I was writing. Even once they went blind and couldn’t read my metas on tumblr anymore because it wouldn’t work with their screenreader, they had me send them Google doc versions so their computer could read my posts to them because they didn’t want to miss any of my analyses. And when they were too sick to listen to the full posts, they asked for summaries because they still wanted to keep up as much as they could. 

They were always so caring and compassionate: when they first called to tell me in January that they were going to do medical assistance in dying, and after I had told them I understood and supported them and we’d talked about how they felt about it, they asked me how I was. I had told them that while I was heartbroken, I would handle it, because I didn’t want to make them feel responsible for comforting me when they had their hands full with processing everything and feeling their own grief. They said that while they appreciated my not wanting to make it harder on them, they didn’t want me to feel like I had to be ok in front of them, because they wanted to comfort me and support me even in this if they could, since they didn’t have that much time left to be there for me and they wanted to make it count. (yeah, I’m sobbing right now.)

None of those descriptions could even begin to do justice to how much they meant to me, but I hope this anecdote will:

I couldn’t be with them at the end because I’m a country and an opposite coast away, but I hated the idea of not being able to say goodbye in person or hold their hand if they were scared during the injection. So I played piano and imagined they could hear it.

Most of you probably won’t know what that means or why it would be a big deal. Here’s why:

I used to be a musician. Music was my life and my most important means of self-expression, and was absolutely going to be my career. But in high school and college, an extensive series of very traumatic things happened that made me essentially have to give up performing. For the better part of the last 18 years, literally up until I sat down to play for Kiah, even just the idea of performing for someone or a neighbor overhearing me play was triggering enough that I would have a full-blown panic attack and dissociate so badly I would literally go from concert pianist level ability to mostly forgetting how to read music and having to count ledger lines. But my desire to do something so that maybe, just maybe, I could make Kiah’s final moments better apparently trumped my trauma, because I was able to do it. I had wanted to play some Rachmaninoff, Brahms, or Chopin, but apparently those are still too closely tied to Events and I started to have skill loss issues again (fucking dissociative amnesia), so I switched to a piece I had played long ago enough that it was reliably in my mind and fingers (and that I could sight-read if I forgot it partway through). 

And I played it.

I hope, somehow, they were able to hear it.

I also recorded it.

And I’m going to share it here.

It kind of feels like serving my heart up on a platter, but that feels kind of appropriate for this tribute to them. 

I think they’d be happy, knowing that I’m “doing it scared,” as Tumblr recommends, and that my attempt to give them the biggest gift of love and support I could think of, somehow, even if just temporarily, gave music back to me.

Also, I think they’d get a kick out of the fact that you can hear me giggle a little at one point in the recording when the sheet music falls on my hands, both because it’s a great middle finger to perfectionism, but also because laughing through the tears (and yeah, I was crying while playing this) is very much a chronic illness and disability thing, and feels like a good metaphor for much of the last few months.

So. All that to say:

Kiah, I love you. I miss you so much already.

Here’s Robert D. Vandall’s “Lakeside Retreat.”

[stargazer56]

WIP Wednesday (with a bonus plea for advice!!)

Bachelor Auction meet cute

SC writing friends, I need your help! I have started writing an AU where Patrick moves to town slightly later than canon. Instead of Asbestos Fest, Ray has convinced the town to hold a Bachelor Auction and he signs Patrick up. It's currently 5,800 words and these two idiots haven't even gone on the date yet.

Here's where I'd love some input. How long is too long for a one-shot? Is is better to break it into chapters, even if they are on the shorter side? Will people in the fandom read a longer one-shot from a new writer (but one whose name they hopefully recognize from all the comments she leaves)? Am I worried too much about this? Probably. I am grateful for any and all thoughts and advice!

Here is an unedited snippet:

Monday morning, Patrick was surprised to see that his first appointment of the day was with Ray. They had spent 3 hours on Sunday afternoon going over all his responsibilities in detail. What else was there to discuss?

“Now, Patrick, I’m not here for business advice or a partner meeting. I am here to talk about the Bachelor Auction for Asbestos,” Ray began. “Many buildings in town are riddled with asbestos. In the past, we’ve held bake sales and talent shows to raise money for remediation. This year, I suggested we try something new and the Town Council agreed!” the glee in Ray’s voice was palpable. “So we are having a Bachelor Auction. You’re in luck! You arrived just before the sign-up deadline and I was able to add your name to the list.”

“I’m sorry, what?” a flustered Patrick asked.

“The list of bachelors, Patrick! For the auction! You are on it. And one of the more eligible names if I say so myself. There are several older bachelors and a few are even married. You are one of the only ones who is young, single and attractive!”

“Ray–” Patrick began, only to be immediately cut off.

“I hope you don’t mind that I called you attractive. But you are a handsome man, Patrick. The ladies,” Ray paused, looked Patrick up and down, and then continued, “and gentlemen will love you. Schitt’s Creek is a very open place, you know. Everyone fits in here no matter who they love.”

“Ray, no one in town knows me. No one is going to bid on me at a bachelor auction.”

I'm not sure who is writing what, but @a-noble-dragon wisely said tag games won't start unless someone begins them. So tagging @ramonaflow, @flowertrigger and @mammameesh in case they have anything they want to share.

[basilone]

I want to hear your thoughts on fandom and the recent influx of the term content creation!

Well, anon, you are in luck! (Or not, depending on your definition of luck. 😉) I just so happen to have many Thoughts & Opinions™ about this. I will get wordy, this will get lengthy, and I will be social and put most of my thoughts under a readmore cut.

I personally try to avoid the terms ‘content’ and ‘content creation’ when talking about fandom works and a fandom’s creative pursuits nowadays. Occasionally, sure, it happens that it slips out anyway – it’s a term we’re all really used to using! – but I want to be as mindful about its use as possible. This is a personal decision on my account and I won’t get uppity about other people’s use of these terms, though.

But, Killy, you might say... why would you avoid using these terms? For me, here’s why:

Content is not synonymous with art;

Content creation indicates something different than art creation;

Fandom should not be subject to consumerism;

Fandom is about connection.

If all a fandom puts out is classified as content, that fandom is going to die.

Yeah. I know. Melodramatic much? I’m on my fainting couch here, folks. 😂 But let’s dig in, shall we?

You know, maybe it’s just the archivist in me that balks at the term ‘content’. Content is a data entry field in the archival system we use at my real-life job: literally speaking, this data entry field is where we put a brief summary of the document attached to that specific archival file. It contains information that tells you the key takeaways of what the document is about, but it will not contain the full text of the document itself. Content is one of the points of access for our archival search: I know what I’m looking for, so I put a few keywords into our search and it pulls up the relevant file. But what do I need, really need, in my line of work? It’s the document itself, not the data entry field. The document tells me the whole story that I need to be able to truly do my job well. The content-field is a cliffnotes edition of that story.

It’s the same way with the art we create in fandom. I’m gonna take myself as an example here, because I create a fair bit! (Shocking, I know. Local Tumblr cryptid sighting, more at 11. 😎) I spend hours writing fic. I spend hours sorting through screencaps before screeching at Photoshop for a lengthy amount of time. I spend days pouring over quotes, books, documents, photographs, tutorials, and other things that will help me create something cool. I apply color theory, art framing/perspective, narrative focus, and many other theories and techniques to my writing and my giffing. If I were to put my finished work or any of my WIPs in that same archive system, it would be the document within the archival file. The tags I use on my posts? Those are markers similar to the content-field. They tell you who my gifset depicts and from which show it is. They tell you which OC of mine my fic is about. My work contains these things I tagged.

But my creative work is not content itself.

Content is marketable, easy access, blurb-y stuff. Content is something you absorb within one minute flat. Content is the highlight reel. It’s what fills a page, something you’ll scroll past in a heartbeat, something that barely stands out in a long long long list of stuff. Content is what you consume on a lazy Sunday afternoon without ever being forced to read lengthy pieces, take in the details of what you see, pause mid-scroll to ponder the meaning of life, whatever else have you. Create content and you create a flash in the pan, a quick laugh maybe, before it fizzles back out again. Create content and it’s here today and gone tomorrow without anyone mourning its absence for too long.

Art should last longer than that, don’t you think? 😉

So when I see people put a fic request in an askbox and it’s phrased like “Speirs x spy!reader fluff” and that very same request makes its way into about ten more askboxes before the fandom starts comparing asks? I might be inclined to classify us all as slot machines. Put an ask in and out rolls a fic. Who cares which slot machine it came from? As long as you’ve got your painstakingly crafted fics that you consume the same way you do actual content, right? We, its writers, are just lucky if we get a pat of acknowledgement on our little slot machine head for our troubles, aren’t we?

When I see an overly detailed summary of what sounds like a full-fledged fic in an askbox and the demand is “write this for me”, I recoil from the screen and go “child, who the hell birthed you, were you raised in a barn?” out loud. If you can tell a story in the space of an askbox, consider asking for help to let that story – a story you own, a story that is more yours that it could ever be mine – grow into what it has the potential to be.

When I see fics and gifsets and other creations get likes but not reblogs, I mutter something about the state of fandom economy these days. We exist in a little fandom bubble. Our bubble can’t expand or blow from place to place without a little help from our friends. And you’re my friends, right? I know the follow-button says follow, guys, believe me, I’m not that far gone, but for me ‘follow’ means ‘friend’. 💚 You’re my buddy now. Suck it up. We’ll share a can of peaches. 🍑

When I see fics and other creations get reblogged without tags or comments attached, I die a little on the inside. I feel like a little Victorian orphan child going “please, reblogger, a little penny of thought for its creator, if it pleases?”. I feel like commentless and/or tagless reblogging is giving me nothing, nothing at all, about who you are.

And I want to get to know you! I want to know who’s in my notes. I want to know who’s scrambling through my MotA gifsets like a fat little raccoon inhaling its third helping of a box of jelly-filled donuts. I want to know who is adopting which character and why. I want to know that it’s your birthday, or that you had a bad day and needed a pick-me-up, or that you are locked in an Ikea at three in the morning reading my blog by the bright lights of countless Solhetta bulbs. I want to know that you love my OC Darlene but that you ain’t sure what the hell my OC Lottie’s got to do with anything. I want to know what tickles you – a turn of phrase I used, a color in a gifset, a little detail I captured that made me go !!!!!! on the inside while I was creating too – and I want to know what moves you.

What reaches into the soil of your being and nourishes you enough to blossom into whichever lovely self you can grow to be? What is precious to you? What comforts you in the dark nights of your soul, when all light feels like it’s faded out? What do you love, truly love? What feeling and thought and idea and love love LOVE do you consume – truly consume, head to tail, no takebacks – and what are you consumed by in turn?

Let me connect with you. Let me know the little internet scraps of you that tell me you’re a DeMarco girlie, or that you’re here for Hoosier only, or that you’re as feral and batty about Speirs as I am, or that you actually really can’t stand the one dude everyone else raves about. Let me know that you like angsty quotes on gifsets – feel free to yell at me for making you schedule an impromptu therapy session – or let me know you saw what I did in my fic there and you’ll be demanding compensation from me while you lie down and wail about it. Let me know you’re very into those lovely blues on a gifset (I know, SO good, right??) or that you are side-eyeing me because that close-up of your fave turned you into a little puddle.

Let me know what moves you, because I created these things with love. I created them because they moved me, too. I created them because I have a story to tell, somehow. I created them because the whole world is a string of stories and I want to pass the heart of them on to you. I created them not because I want to jump on a hypetrain that races past all the episodes and all the alternate universes and all the stories without stopping, but because I want to soak up the sun and point at something and tell you “look, isn’t this beautiful?”. I created them not because I am looking for a quick fix or a distraction or an escape, but because I want to give you something that nourishes you as it has nourished me.

That’s so much more than that quick flash in the pan, yeah? That’s so much more than what content could ever hope to be. That’s something that lasts beyond the clicks and gives you an ever-expanding horizon that leaves you wondering just what in the world is next.

Let me repeat point five: if all a fandom puts out is classified as content, that fandom is going to die. Because content doesn’t sustain you. Connection does. And connection? That happens with meaningful interaction. That happens when you stop getting followers and start getting friends. That happens when you treat all forms of art as something unique that can be precious to someone, rather than something to like today and forget about tomorrow.

Can I do a lil mic drop? Yeah. I think I’m gonna. Just this once. 🎤

[darkkitty1208]

on fic writing and fandom: where am i going forward?

So. It's a bloody dull Friday and I'm writing this post--have been meaning to, for a while--because I can't stop thinking about it. It's just a few (a lot, actually) thoughts I've had in my mind the past few days that I've decided to spill into a single post, which turned out far longer than it needed to be, but nothing too important. Under the cut.

I've been a fanfic writer for a while now. Not a long time by any means, but a while nonetheless. My first fic--which is now orphaned like a few of its brothers for undisclosed reasons, though if you're an og you might be able to guess why--was dated back to the 18th of November 2021. 3 years later and I've got a humble 89 works and counting (the orphaned works and unposted wips unincluded). I can safely say I've improved quite a lot since then.

Where are you going with this, then, Kitty? Surely you aren't here just to brag about your writing progress?

Well. Not exactly. But I'll start with this: I guess what I'm trying to say is I've lost the spark.

You know. The old feeling. That boost of serotonin you get after you finish a piece you're proud of, or when you get lovely reviews on ao3, or when you get a kudos email, or a new mutual, or some wild tags under your silly post. The spark. I haven't felt it in a long time, now. The last time it's been so palpable was... I'm not sure. Probably last year's October. That was a lot of fun. I was most prolific in fic writing, that year. It shouldn't feel like a long time ago. Because it wasn't.

Don't get me wrong. I love all this. All that's going on right now. The comments I'm getting--even if fewer than I had before--and all the other interactions, I appreciate and enjoy and love them so, so much. And writing my newer fic projects are well exciting. But it just isn't the same anymore. I'm afraid it never will be.

(Maybe it has something to do with the lack of interactions lately. Maybe? I don't really know, either. I'm sure we're all well aware the fandom is past its peak, and with the current developments in the MCU I am frankly unsurprised, but I dunno.)

I guess that's part of the reason I've been less active lately. I've been inactive as a whole this year, admittedly, and disappearing far too often for far too long (and I notice some of my friends are, too). I just didn't get the same joy from being in a fandom like I had when I first started this blog, or my ao3 account.

In hindsight, I've probably been a little too dependent on fandom to provide me serotonin. The past few years have been hard, the years before that, too. Life just keeps kicking me in the arse time and time again. I guess I've been using fandom and fic writing as a coping mechanism, and once I've had my fill, the joy dies off to something a little more dull. Like a gum I've been chewing for too long that the sweetness has since worn off.

Honestly? I don't want it to be this way. I want to live without being so dependent on my presence online. I want to live without only knowing joy through internet interactions. I've got to learn to. It sounds silly, but it's true. (I think I may be slightly chronically online, oh no. x'D)

So naturally my first instinct is to distance myself a little. I contemplated quitting, but I can't do that. I don't see myself ever doing that, no matter how many times my brain convinces me that I might.

When this year started, I had set some goals for writing. One of them was to write for more whumptober prompts than I did last year or complete them all. I did like 21 prompts or something last year. Of 31. Within a little more than a month. While still balancing all the life stuff I had going on. This is, if not obvious, an extremely ambitious goal. I am not insane. I don't know what I was thinking. I can't possibly do that now, can I? Not with all the stuff that's been happening.

...

Can I?

...

Yeah, no. Definitely not.

See, that's another thing: writing. Probably the thing I'm trying to get at in this post but otherwise derailed completely from. Fuck my brain.

I'm sure many of you have noticed that I've been writing significantly less. I still post, obviously, but not as much as like, last year when the number of works I had went from a few to far too much. That had helped me improve quite a lot, actually, but those days I barely slept because I just insisted to replace my sleep time with Writing Shit For The Gays. It was pretty unhealthy now that I look back at it. My sleep schedule is still shit now but, yk. Some things just never change.

I was really, really caught up on wanting to be good at writing. Like, really good. I wanted to make awesome things. I wanted to write like a real fucking pro. Like all the more popular fandom authors I look up to. I want to be like the big dogs in fandom. It sounds so silly. I did everything; sprinting daily, setting a minimum of 500 words writing sessions every day, trying new writing styles, churning out works after works, writing for prompts and events and gifts and the like. I was enjoying it, yes, but was it really something I did for myself? Or was it because I wanted to please other people or impress other people for their validation, which is something I'm entirely too dependent of? Was it for the numbers?

Well. It was more for that than for me, I realised a little too late.

So yeah. Fuck wanting to be good. I want to write for the hell of it. I want to write something that's for me. Not what the majority of the fandom or other people want to read, but for me. Which is why I absolutely loved writing works like just a matter of time, how to kill a god, or how to become a god, because they're not meant for other people but myself. (Ironically that last work is a gift but, yk. I still liked it.) I know I joke about self-projecting a lot, but it's been seriously helping me rediscover the joy of writing that doesn't come from the incessant need to be good or perfect or focus on producing more and more and more. It makes me feel like a kid again. Also, I'm only realising this now but I'd rather get like 5 people who enjoy reading my works so much and express them to me rather than 100 people who silently thumbs up at me and then go away to consume another fic or demand more. (All this to say I still love interactions, it just shouldn't be my no. 1 priority to get them when writing fanfics.)

But yeah. None of those works are perfect. They're not meant to be. But they're mine. They're me. They represent me. And it's so, so great to feel that in writing. I've been so stuck up on being some sort of content machine. I'm doing this for myself, how could I forget? I've been saying this since the beginning, I don't know why I'm still struggling to do it. God. It's ridiculous.

Anyway. That's that. This has become a very long ramble. Thank you for listening to my Ted Talk. And for letting me waste your time, if you make it to the end of this post.

[buckets-and-trees]

Field Guide to Forestry

We just hit another follower milestone, so since there are way too many of you around for me to put this off any longer, how about I officially let everyone know who I am and what you'll find around here...

CHIEF FORESTER: ASPEN Elder Millennial/upper 30s, she/her

THINGS ASPEN KNOWS WAY TOO MUCH ABOUT Trader Joe's, Disney Parks, the Great British Bake Off, CBS Survivor, Houseplants

IN THIS FIELD GUIDE YOU WILL FIND:

↠ Maps & Masterlists: my writing ↠ Forest Rules & Regulations: my guidelines and boundaries ↠ Visitors to the Forest: my approach to asks, requests, and tagging ↠ Upcoming Expeditions: projects I'm working on ↠ Tree Classification: my current tags ↠ Tales of the Teller: more about me and my writing

↠ THE FOREST OF FICS IN UPSTATE NEW YORK The MCU realm of my writing

↠ I do not interact with minors. It's not safe for anyone under 18 in these woods, and I'm honestly more comfortable knowing folks are over 21 because of the nature of things around here.

↠ I do not consent to having my works translated or posted to other platforms. If I wanted to, I would.

↠ I will block at my own discretion. This is my forest, and I set the boundaries. Underage? Blocked. Pornbot pigeon? Blocked. Bigotted? Blocked. Rude? Blocked. Just be a reasonable human over the age of 18, and you'll be free to roam the woods.

↠ ASKS Always open. I adore asks! Send thoughts, thots, questions, gifs, pics... Asks are NEVER a bother and you can ask about anything - questions about my existing works, stuff I'm working on, fandom things, my life... I'll answer within reason (no spoilers, I'm semi-open about my life but do keep some things private, etc). FULL DISCLOSURE: I'm not always prompt with answering them. Some have inspired fic or drabble ideas, and sometimes that writing goes fast, sometimes it goes slow, and there are a few that are sitting in my box that are "future" parts of current WIPs. But the hope is to always get to everything eventually.

↠ REQUESTS The only thing I'm actively entertaining requests for is my Cedar Trees Royal AU collection - but even these will be fulfilled subjectively and only as I have time and muse cooperation. Periodically I may host a request fest (as I did for my 300 follower celebration or for other occasions in the future).

↠ TAGLIST At this point in the growing season, I'm not maintaining an official taglist. In the future I will probably set up a secondary/library blog as many other authors have done where you can follow and turn on the notifications. There are only so many hours in the day, explorers.

↠ HOT BUCKY SUMMER 2024: thirteen weeks of prompts ↠ BUILD-A-BUCKY BINGO: twelve months of prompts ↠ THE GREAT BUCKY BAKE OFF: a Bucky x Reader episodic story with a Great British Bake Off format (coming fall 2024) ↠ ASPEN'S HOLIDAY EXTRAVAGANZA 2024: eight days of fics followed by one day of many, many fics (coming December 2024)

↠ FOREST NAVIGATION: field guide, masterlists, story collections ↠ AN ASPEN THING: when I post something more to do with me than anything fandom ↠ ASPEN MILESTONES: ONLY YOU CAN CREATE THESE FOREST FIRES ↠ ASKpen: responses to things from my ask box ↠ ASPEN IS WRITING: any commentary, sneak peaks, progress posts ↠ ASPEN WROTE SOMETHING: new writing post (fic, drabble, chapter) ↠ WRITER COMMENTARY: commentary either as a response to an ask or in a reblog ↠ OMG REBLOGGED THANK YOU: responding to or thanking people for reblogging my fics ↠ FIC READING: my reblogs of other people's fics ↠ MY MOOTS: flailing about or responding to one of my mutual friends

↠ HISTORY OF ASPEN I grew up in a family that was steeped in all things stories: grandparents, aunts and uncles always telling stories at family gatherings; parents read to me before bed; watching too many movies and cartoons; staying up way past my bedtime trying to sneakily keep the light on to read and read and read; playing elaborate imagination games after school with my best friends (house, princesses, orphans, dance coaches, etc). I wrote my first story in my eighth grade English class where one day in the computer lab we were assigned to write a mystery that was at least one page. I loved it. My teacher said it was good...

That summer our family moved - mere days before I started my freshman year of high school - so that fall before I made friend friends, I read a lot and I started writing. I was desperate for the next Harry Potter book to come out, so I started writing my own... the next year I learned about fan fiction on the internet and that it was a thing. I was drawn into Lord of the Rings fanfic, then I wrote a Pirates of the Caribbean fanfic, and then I went back to Harry Potter and actively wrote in that fandom for around six years.

In college I majored in English with an emphasis in Creative Writing because while I was writing fan fiction, I was also occasionally dabbling with original fiction... the dream was to be a famous writer.

↠ WHY BUCKETS-AND-TREES Buckets because I thought I'd be writing almost exclusively Bucky and Trees because Aspen. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ 

↠ ASPEN NOW In summer of 2022 I aggressively reclaimed HAVING hobbies in an effort to re-establish Aspen having a life outside of work. I love my career and I've worked incredibly hard to establish myself in the professional world, but... I needed to be more than just my work again.

So, again I write.

Throughout 2023 I started venturing out and participated in A LOT of challenges, which was so much fun in pushing my creative boat out into new waters. In 2024 I plan to DO THE DAMN THING and write a novel. I've always intended to, but 2024 will be the year. ↠ MY WORK Primarily I'm writing MCU fan fiction - typically Bucky Barnes or Steve Rogers; I have written some pieces with Sam, Natasha, Matt Murdock, Namor, and Wanda; I have some ideas for Thor, Carol, and M'Baku that I may or may not get around to. I've written for a slew of Sebastian Stan and Chris Evans characters and that's mostly where my muse lives.

I write a range of fluff, smut, and dark. Nearly all of my work has mature elements whether that's stronger language, sexual situations, or mature themes. HEED THE WARNINGS FOR EACH WORK AND DO NOT READ IT IF IT'S SOMETHING YOU DON'T LIKE. If I miss tagging something properly in the content warnings, please send me a message or an anonymous ask and let me know.

Most of my stories feature a reader insert. Reader is typically female, but when the reader is gender neutral I will designate accordingly! Striving to write an inclusive reader as much as possible, but if I stumble, please send me a message or an anonymous ask and let me know how I can grow.

[maeglinthebold]

Maeglinthebold | MayGlenn’s Hobbit Birthday Ficlet Giveaway 2024

For the 5th year in a row!! In the tradition of hobbits giving away presents for their birthdays, I’d love to gift you a fic in my birthday month, so please give me prompts! I promise it's a present for me, too. I just need:

Characters and/or ship

Prompt (scenario, word, song, etc.)

Your AO3 handle if you want me to make it a gift work

You can send me an ask, a Discord message, reply to this post, whatever you fancy!

I’ll be accepting prompts all September 2024 or until I have too many.

I’ll aim for 200 words minimum, but they may (probably) will be longer.

I have a lot of ongoing WIPs, so you can also request I get my butt in gear about any one of them. 😅

No guarantee how fast I’ll finish!

I’m not shy about my opinions and if you follow me you probably know what fandoms I’m in and what I’m comfortable writing (or not writing). I’ll do my best to give anything a college try, while reserving the right to just say “sorry, no” or workshop it with you until it’s something I can.

You should probably be following me? Or know me somehow, on Discord or whatever. It’d be weird if not.

I hate posting fic on Tumblr so I’ll make a Series on AO3 and then link that here when I’ve finished.