#straight back

[frownyalfred]

it's so good, Ollie zeroing in on Bruce not claiming his achievements as Bruce Wayne/a civilian and telling him 'don't talk shit about my friend/yourself or I'll kick your ass'.

He's such a good friend, and you can really see how he knows him here, even with all the decades of lies and misdirection, even with Bruce never wanting him to.

It's such great work. I love it. All the things that go unsaid and everything that they force out of their mouths because they need to say them or the other needs to hear it.

Yes! God, Bruce has so many identity issues. It's not just as simple as, well Bruce Wayne is the mask and Batman is the real him -- here, clearly it's all shades of truth. But Ollie knows enough to piece those bits together. He wants to piece them together, more than even Bruce does. He's saying hey, that Bruce Wayne you keep writing off and pretending isn't you? He is you, so stop this bullshit.

Ollie is fully himself in both identities, and I think that's what scares Bruce (and also makes him a tiny bit envious). Bruce is never wholly himself no matter which mask he's wearing. That must be disorienting.

[allthedesiredusernamesaretaken]

Stevie Nicks

📷 Richard McCaffrey, Getty Images

" ... the dream is not over, the dream is just away ... "

[the-maw-consumes]

do you think it'll let up soon?

static version:

[aimasup]

Started out as unable to decide an outfit for him, spiralled into more...

Why yes the third pic is directly referenced from Mary Poppins costumes

[shotmrmiller]

sex pollen trope where you're the one affected, having been exposed to some dense gas while on an op that felt like harsh sandpaper across your throat and lungs, and now you're a feverish mess on some ratty cot in a safe house and with only ghost as company, it's miserable, as the saying goes.

hair sticking to your sweaty skin, plastered onto your forehead and neck, every swallow feeling like you've got a mouthful of sand, your fluttering pulse wild and deafening in your ears, and the throbbing ache deep in your core, the blistering heat right below your navel— it'd only been uncomfortable in the beginning, the faint throbbing incredibly familiar, but the more you ignored it, the worse it got.

and now you're here, with arousal sticking your underwear to your pussy, unable to do anything about it because your lieutenant is seated in a corner that lets him have both you and the front door within his line of sight. a quick, discreet rub under your clothes is not an option.

someone put you out of your foggy misery.

"squirmin' like a worm on a 'ook isn't gonna help." his staring doesn't either, yet he does it anyway.

"got to make sure ya aren't dyin' on me." you want to snap that you don't think proof of life is on the darkened stain between your legs, the retort pressed behind clenched teeth but another thick wave of bestial need rolls over you and god, you're about to shove your hand into your underwear, propriety be damned—

"best you don't do tha'." why the fuck not? "you'll only get relief for a moment 'fore it comes back twofold." he says as if he's reading off the morning paper and not watching you fight tooth and nail to not fuck yourself against the pillow your head is on. (soap's offer to be friends with benefits is only looking better by the hour.)

you hastily decide that it'll be better than nothing. you'll just have to rub your pussy raw until this drug runs its course and you're telling him to piss off or don't, but you've had enough. you're stuck here with him anyway, no flight home until the morn and you're not about to spend it writhing around.

"if tha's wha' you want," ghost bites his gloves off, spitting them out onto the ground before curling his hands around your ankles and dragging you toward him. "i will help." your entire world narrows down to the feel of him touching your skin, his fingers searing as they hook into the waistband of your pants, and you almost kick him in the mouth trying to get them off faster.

"but 'm not fuckin' you." the bite of disappointment is quickly forgotten, his breath warm against your slick pussy, and after three quick glides of his tongue over your pearl, your orgasm crests, pulse after pulse of pleasure so potent it stung.

in less than a minute you're burning again, need thrumming through you and with the heady push and drag of his middle finger over your sensitive nerves, curling in you until he can fit two, three—

you're lost.

(ghost telling you that he's not doing anything else because if he's going to fuck you then you're going to remember it falls on ringing ears.)

[akantorrr]

[helmetonbot]

Young and beautiful

Zoomed in

[dingledraw]

Aziraphale is barely trying at this point🙄😂

Inspired by the ao3 fic Petticoat Junction (which is very much of the nsfw variety)

[theydjarin]

Ah yes. The good old days when shipping wars hadn’t been invented yet. Before the existence of antis when we all lived in harmony -

No, no. Tumblr and twitter had *created* puritan culture. I mean before then.

No no no before then. Before social media poisoned everything-

Before then….?

Before….

Well surely shipping wars didn’t exist before the internet-

[favoure]

"do the opposite of what people tell you to do"

[frownyalfred]

The fic was amazing! I'm very pleased that Oliver was the first person that Bruce told, and it was interesting to see where you placed it in the timeline. Was there a specific reason for that, other than showing how much this secret has been obscuring between these billionaire besties?

I found the shuriken exchange to be my second favorite bit of the fic, where it briefly shows the skills of two mortal men that fight godlike beings with a concerning regularity. Only topped by the way Bruce has been reading the physical cues and linking them to emotions on Ollie and others, but neglecting to do the same to himself.

Also, I looked up how much that bottle cost and choked on my coffee. $800k whiskey as a gesture is certainly one hell of an apology.

Thank you so much! I'm so glad you enjoyed! I wasn't sure if I was going to be able to write this one, so I'm happy it made it onto paper.

I had Bruce tell Oliver before Clark/the others because it occurred to me, while writing, that we almost never see that? Bruce tends to tell Clark first, and Ollie always finds out later and usually very dramatically. But Ollie has been there for Bruce since they were kids. They know each other, even if they don't know each other. As the two humans of the League, two billionaires, two vigilantes beholden to their respective cities, they have so much more in common than Bruce will ever have with Clark, etc. So I kind of wanted to stumble into that in this fic -- that idea of Ollie not being a threat to Bruce, and Bruce realizing he can be more than just an ally.

The shuriken scene was so funny to me! It's like, here I'm going to prove you're a vigilante by throwing something 1) I should not be throwing or able to throw 2) at your face 3) that will hurt you very badly if I'm wrong or you're lying. And then for Bruce to throw something back that shouldn't be able to be thrown? It cemented everything in Ollie's mind in an instant.

Yeah the whiskey was pricey! In my mind, Bruce was storing it on the Watchtower for some post-mission debrief after the world almost ended, or something else. A resurrection or something equally "big." But giving it to Ollie here was more of a gesture than any words he could say.

[anneapocalypse]

So, just curious how many writers and creators will have to be forcibly outed by relentless harassment before we acknowledge that "This queer characters was written by a cishet person and that's why they're bad" is not good criticism.

[bacchuschucklefuck]

class swap design masterpost for convenience (from top to bottom: bard!riz, cleric!gorgug, sorcerer!kristen, barbarian!fig, artificer!adaine, and rogue!fabian)

[nipuni]

The heart of the universe 💫

A speedpaint video of this will be available at my Patreon on december 1st!

[hinamie]

shows up a day early with a nobara birthday tribute

[tanblaque]