#writer headaches

[angelwings-crossbowstrings]

I am at an impasse with both Father Daryl and sub!Daryl one shots. Struggling to decide on the ideas I have for both.

[caninese]

YES FINALLY ANOTHER TOP MALE WRITER FOR INVINCIBLE, PLEASE FEED US, WE ARE VERY MUCH STARVING HERE 😭

YEAH!!! I'm starving out here trying to find a top ! male reader fic x invincible characters, I've seen a few but it's so little— I mean, bottom ! male reader fics are good enough but still...

Anyways, here's a small fic / hcs mixed together about mark and top ! male reader, pure fluff cos I'm not in the mood for anything just yet :3

To be yours, Is possible

tags: mark grayson , top!male reader , fluff x1 , sfw , fluff x2, bottom (?) mark , Top ! male reader is presented as a masculine guy with no feminine traits, multiple POVS because I'm indecisive, sorry!

AN: Mark Is portrayed as a boy who struggles to balance being a student and being Invincible! it's not entirely accurate to the comics or show, but hey, I tried my best!

ദ്ദി˙ ᴗ ˙ ) ..

Mark was given a gift by the heavens, which was you— a man who understood his flaws and insecurities, despite him being 'Invincible' and a wonder-boy in the publics eyes, he was vastly different In private, a boy who had personal issues of his own, and his thoughts battling with one another.

He was unstable, most of the time to say the least— but you loved him either way, because; that's what boyfriends are for! you love him with your whole heart, you didn't love him just because he was invincible, you didn't love him just for fame or his powers— No, you loved him as a whole. You loved the way he melted Into your touch, the way he felt around you, it just felt— right.

Now, going back— You had your arms wrapped around him, like you were afraid he'd disappear the moment you let him go, you truly loved him so much, you could burst with how much love you had for him.

“I love you, so so much. Fuck— I wanna die like this.” You said, nuzzling into his hair; the two of you were laying on the couch in the living room, both of you in your own little worlds, with mark lazily on top of you, face nuzzled into the crook of your neck— you could feel his heart beating softly, and god— this was romantic, no; this was love right here.

“love you alot too, reader.” Was all he replied, his voice filled with exhaustion, his arms around your neck, him wearing your hoodie, with the soft hum of the fan, it all felt comforting. And after all— It was a lazy and slow day, with him taking a break from being Invincible, and It was your rest day too, being a part time tutor and a student to support both of you.

You always took care of mark, and along with that— your attentive care of his injuries whenever he returned back home from a fight, usually with broken fingers, deep cuts and broken bones; yes, he can recover easily, but the process was pain filled, and that's where you come in, always helping him through it, pain killers, cold and warm baths, and cuddling, his form of medicine.

...Now talking about your public life, with you and mark as students, you were stereotyped as a 'jock'; though you mainly correct them by saying you only do sports during your free time, not all the time of course. Football? you're good at it, soccer? somewhat good but not that good to be considered as a professional, while mark? he simply exist, he has good grades, attentive in studying, but he'd get lazy most of the time, which you have to force him to do homework when the due date is tomorrow, basically— a lazy puppy and a productive puppy.

Talking about what he loves about you, he drools over your body— and you as a whole. But the part he loves you the most? Definitely your biceps, you weren't that jacked— but somewhat that could be considered as mascular, you somehow discovered mark loved being crushed by your biceps, maybe due to the experimenting you two do, or maybe something else? either way, he loves being close to you, and physical touch was one of them— holding hands? yeah, his shoulder touching yours? most definitely, he wasn't touch starved, but he does love physical touch, as it means so much to him.

Your relationship with marks mother, Debbie? oh oh, you absolutely loved her energy! how she cooks, the way she brought you embarrassing pictures of mark, and little gossips here and there, you're basically apart of the family now, she welcomed you with open arms, she was definitely supportive with your relationship with mark.

Talking about how you found out he was Invincible... It was relatively easy, Mark can be forgetful sometimes— which meant you always did everything around the apartment you two shared, and you did discover his suit thrown away at some corner of his room, poorly hidden; though, you didn't immediately freaked out, you were suspicious whenever mark disappeared and Invincible was out there saving the city. But either way, you didn't care— he was yours and nothing could change it, he was invincible? hell yeah but he's still your pretty boy.

END

Ughh, this is the end! thank you to whoever is reading this :3 ill be answering questions slow because I'm very much busy and I'm still suffering from writer burnt out, but I'll get back on track

[the0p]

edge (request!)

sub! soobin, aftercare duh, mlm, hand job, gay sex, sex with very little plot, cursing, and overstimulation (short story, sorry guys, I'm not feeling the best)

me and soobin sat on his bed, cuddling and watching a movie of his choice on my laptop. Netflix and chill, right?? wrong. Netflix and chill always ends with us fucking one way or another and tonight was no exception. it started off simple with just a few kisses here and their light suggestive touches and then to a full-blown heated makeout session.

soobin layed under me, completely naked, his head trown back a moaning, shaking mess as I played with him, watching as he squirmed every time I moved my hand up and down his shaft. he had already came twice, causing him to be very overstimulated as I didn't give him time to ride out his previous orgasm. his abdomen was covered in his own cum and sweat as I jerked him off causing a string of moans and curse words roll off his tongue. his legs shook as I picked up the pace, seeing tears in his eyes, but he didn't stop me or say anything, so he was enjoying this as much as I was. "y/n..please i-" he cut himself off with another loud moan as he finished for the third time tonight. I finally let go of him admiring the mess I made of him. his cheeks flushed, blonde hair sticking to his forehead all messy, lips slightly parted as he panted, trying to cetch him breath and his cum covered abdomen. I leaned down to give him a kiss, his hand coming to rest on my cheek. I pulled away, resting my forehead against his. "Was it too much??" I asked quietly. I felt him shake his head "no not at all. I liked it" I gave him one last kiss before getting off the bed going into the bathroom, running a bath for him so he could wash up while I changed the bed sheets.

"Come on, let's get you washed up." I said, walking back into his room, helping him get up and getting him into the bath in one peace. as he soaked in the water, I gave him a forehead kiss before going back into the bedroom, finding some clean sheets and changing them. I decided to stay in the bedroom, letting him do his own thing, knowing he'd come out when he's ready. so in the meantime, I scrolled through my phone. After a good twenty minutes, he came back out a fresh set of clothes and all cleaned up. he walked over to me and just collapsed on top of me, wrapping his arms around my waist, his head on my chest. I didn't protest or say anything. I took the blanket and pulled it over both of us, hugging him for the rest of the night.

[broareweabouttoviberightnow]

Soda runs the match over the rough grooves at the bottom of his two front teeth and promptly snaps it in half. "Shit! We're gonna run out of matches."

"Nuh uh, look. You're doin' it wrong." Dallas flicks a match along his eye tooth 'n doesn't get anythin' even close to a spark. "Fuck, I swear I've seen people do this."

"Wait, lemme try again." Dallas grabs the three remain' from the coffee table 'n passes one to Soda. He wiggles the head around 'n drags it over his molars 'n a flame sputters to life.

"Sodapop Patrick Curtis 'n Dallas Tucker Winston." Soda drops the match 'n starts at the sound of Darry's voice. They both dive for it 'n Dallas catches it, flame goin' out against the inside of his palm. He hisses but doesn't have time to inspect it before Darry snatches them both off the couch, roughly turnin' Dally's hand over to check the damages. Findin' nothin' but a bloomin' red mark he drops his arm, whackin' them both in the head.

"What the hell were you two doin'?" Soda grins 'n tosses his hair out of his eyes. He props his elbow on Dallas' shoulder 'n Dally hunches down a bit more so Soda doesn't have to stretch to reach.

"Nothin'." Dallas shrugs 'n Soda slides right off. He kicks Dallas in the shin 'n Dallas elbows him in the side in return. They both giggle until Darry pins them to the wall with a glare.

"Didn't know nothin' looked like playin' with matches nowadays. Someone should have filled me in." Darry scoffs dryly, rolls his eyes. "How old are you two?"

Soda grins again before scrunchin' up his brow 'n scratchin' his head, feignin' confusion. "Glory, Dallas, I clean forgot. You remember?"

Dallas smirks, tiltin' his head, 'n touchin' his tongue to his silver canine in thought. "You know I think I do it's-"

"Y'all are too-" Darry starts.

"-Too damn old!" Soda 'n Dallas finish for him 'n Soda howls, grabbin' Dallas' shirt 'n dissolvin' into laughter. Dallas grabs his elbow so they both don't hit the carpet, cacklin'.

"Y'all are worse than Pony." He smacks them both up the head again 'n Soda wails in mock indignation, doin' an impressive version of Pony's whine.

"Dally, you see how this hood treats his poor brothers?" Soda pouts at him from under honey lashes 'n Darry jabs a finger at him. He grabs Dallas 'n manhandles him into the kitchen, checkin' the temperature of the tap water before he shoves Dally's hand under it.

"Truly, Soda man, I've seen wild animals gentler." Dallas calls over his shoulder, tryin' 'n failin' to pull his hand back.

"Well, ain't that a funny coincidence." Darry flips the tap off 'n checks the burn again, releasin' him when he's sure it's not serious. "I've seen kid brothers stupider."

"Aw, Darry, y'know you love us." Soda grabs Dallas, pinchin' him by the chin 'n poutin' again. "How could you stay mad at us?" Dallas knocks Soda's head away with the heel of his hand 'n jumps on him.

Darry rolls his eyes 'n steps over the two of them howlin' on the kitchen tile. "Quite easily."

"Darrrr!" Soda jabs Dallas 'n the ribs 'n wriggles out from under him.

"Fine." Darry lets out an almighty sigh 'n shakes his head, reachin' over 'n snatchin' the last two matches off the coffee table. "But y'all are done fuckin' around with matches until you can act like you got any damn brains in your skulls."

"Hey, that ain't fair," Dallas takes Soda's hand 'n hauls himself off the kitchen floor. "How the hell am I meant to smoke?"

Darry smiles for the first time that afternoon. "Maybe if you put your fool heads together you can get one spark a sense between the two of you."

"Well, a course!" 'N before anyone can stop him Soda grins with every tooth in his mouth, grabs Dallas by the back of the neck 'n cracks their heads together.

[oatmealdiva]

can’t say much about byler that hasn’t been said already but i truly do think narratively it feels like thats what everything is leading up to. i mean hell, there are byler proofs hundreds of pages long at this point, and while some of them might be grasping at straws, there is still an overwhelming amount of convincing evidence that make it clear to a large part of the audience both casual and superfans that it is a large possibility. obviously i do worry that with the political climate and the frequent cancellation of queer shows that the duffer brothers / netflix wouldn’t out of cowardice. but i think having a queer relationship being a focal point of one of the biggest shows in the world, would be an incredible legacy for a show about outcasts and freaks to leave.

[wh1spic]

the ao3 writers curse has struck once again.

in other news, im writing my next fic from my hospital bed.

[local-lover-boy]

If this post gets 100 notes I'll type up and post the long ass poetry I wrote last night called "Become human (I'm begging)"

[andr33yy]

Guess who decided to put all his physical suffering onto Charles in the new fic? Rocking that headache flare like the screwed, academic overachiever he is.

(But it's ok, cuz Erik takes care of him)

[trans-m0thman]

I am sadly sick. Which means someone else has to be 'sadly' sick. Come back in about 3 hours for a voltron sick fic, if I don't die from the plague by then

[angelwings-crossbowstrings]

Working on Blood Ties. Lawd help me, watching episodes to get correct dialogue is killing me.

[luniviravosshipper]

Honestly, I get to an extent why people would say that Rayllum is toxic (not saying I agree or disagree), but why would you say that Callum is the one who’s toxic in the relationship? Lmao.

[moltenduplex]

Your character has a best friend who's parents suddenly dissapear, the only clues left behind are a trashed house and their mothers watch on the ground. Their best friend starts spiraling after that, not just with depression but they actually start believing the whole thing was one giant conspiracy and other things that they start to find weirder and weirder. Your character, despite helping in the beginning, tries with all their might to stay out of the mess their friend has created and so far they have been successful. At least, until their parents go missing as well, including their pet. Now they have no choice but enter the web of chaos their best friend has spun for themselves, they need to find their family. The same thing happens to two other friends of them, and suddenly the four of them are missing their family. Their best friend slowly pulls them all into their chaotic and unhinged world. Will they stumble upon a bigger conspiracy that proves their friend right, or was it all just a farce to force them to help?

[the-broken-pen]

Hiii, I love your writing! It's so great that you're back! Could you write something like two actors are playing hero/villain in a movie or theater, but both of them sometimes just gets too in character/or just gets too stuck in character, so for like moments they actually forget that they are just acting?

“You didn’t think I’d let you die by anyone else’s hand but mine, did you?” The villain cocked their head to the side, grinning.

Distantly, the hero registered the whispering of stage commands, but tuned it out.

“You can’t just kill anyone who threatens me,” they argued back. They watched as the villain’s grin sharpened.

“Watch me,” the villain whispered, stepping closer. Fake blood was drying on the side of the hero’s head, and it itched more than usual. Must be a new brand from costuming.

“I could arrest you,” they offered, but they let the hesitation show on their face. Visible enough for the camera to catch their unwillingness, no matter how fake it was. Good enough nobody could tell the difference between real and not.

“You won’t.”

The hero tipped one head to the side

“And why’s that?”

The hero shifted, leaning in towards the villain.

“Because you’re mine,” the villain whispered, tone playful as their eyes seared into the hero’s.

The hero’s mouth went dry. It wasn’t on purpose.

Something kindled in their chest.

“Oh yeah?”

The villain shrugged one shoulder in perfect time to the script, and the hero pulled the next line to the tip of their tongue—

“Prove it.”

That was not the next line.

That wasn’t a line at all.

The villain blinked just once, the only sign of surprise they would allow, before their grin widened. Their shoulders loosened into something feral, something that delighted in this change.

Something that belonged off-stage.

“I’m covered in the blood of the people who hurt you,” the villain’s voice was smooth sliding down the hero’s spine. They shivered. “What more proof do you want, love.”

They blushed furiously at the nickname, even underneath the stage makeup, and at the pleased look on the villain’s face, it was visible.

What was the line what was the line what—

Their hands fisted into the front of the villain’s costume, dragging them closer. The villain let them, hand settling on the hero’s waist in a movement far too smooth.

“I don’t know,” the hero murmured, and they were just as surprised as the villain when their lips hovered just over the other’s ear. “Why don’t you stop trying to kill me, for starters.”

The villain tugged them closer, and the hero’s eyes went to their lips.

The villain looked at the hero like they wanted to devour them.

Fuck, what had been the line—

“Oh, but you’re so pretty covered in blood, Hero,” the villain crooned, and the hero opened their mouth to say something, their tongue a separate entity from their brain at this point—

“Hold!” Someone off-stage called, and they both froze. A second later, they were halfway across the stage from one another. Slipping out of being the hero and back into being themself felt like hitting a brick wall.

If the way the villain shuddered was any indication, they had forgotten they were playing a character too.

The hero turned away to face the tech crew, hand settling over their face to hide their blush.

The villain’s gaze was molten and heavy on their shoulders, even from as far away as they were.

“I don’t think that’s in the blocking,” the stage manager frowned, flipping through the script.

None of that was the blocking. No matter how much the stage manager searched those pages they would never find those lines.

Fuck.

“Improv,” the hero choked out, flushing. “It was, uh. A creative choice—“

From behind one of the curtains, they heard a crew member snort, muttering something about teenage actors and horniness—

The villain was smirking, a wicked thing.

“Right,” the stage manager said slowly, brow furrowed from where they sat. They murmured something into their headset, eyes shifting up between the villain and the hero, before they slid a screen in front of themself.

Just barely, the hero could make out the shape of the scene they had just filmed.

The screen went black, the room silent for a moment, before the stage manager let out a long suffering sigh.

“We’re changing the blocking.”

“What?” The hero yelped.

The villain settled their hands into their pockets, unbothered and grinning.

“We’re keeping the scene,” the stage manager nodded towards their tablet, and the hero almost passed out on the spot. They watched the stage manager eye the pleased and possessive look on the villain’s face. “For now, though, let’s call it a wrap for the day.”

Shuffling began, lights flickering off, and the hero escaped to their own dressing room, panting slightly.

Dear god, they were so fucked. They had forgotten they were acting, again—

“Improv, hm?” The villain grinned, lock sliding into place. The hero hadn’t even heard them come in.

The hero groaned. “I don’t know what happened—“

“Yeah,” the villain nodded, and they were closer than they had been a moment ago.

The hero swallowed.

“I’m sorry.”

The villain raised an eyebrow. “For what?”

The hero waved one hand between them. “For, you know—“

The villain was still smiling.

It was then they remembered who had fought so hard in the writers’ room for the villain and the hero to end up together.

‘Enemies to lovers,’ the villain had said, eyes dark. ‘The fans will love it. There’s been sub plot for the last two seasons.’

The directors had pushed back, but now—

Oh. The villain wasn’t mad.

They were pleased.

The hero choked.

“You,” the hero tried.

“Me,” the villain agreed, and then they were kissing, all-consuming and desperate.

They made a noise in the back of their throat, the villain twining their hand into the hero’s hair.

“You forgot you were acting,” the villain murmured against their lips, and kissed them again before the hero could defend themself. “That I’m not really your villain and you aren’t my hero.”

The villain settled the hero onto the counter, coming to stand between their legs, one hand on their hip.

“Fuck,” they gasped, and they could feel the villain’s grin against their skin.

“Mhm.”

Somehow, the hero’s arms had ended up looped over the villain’s shoulders.

“Maybe stop killing people, and I’ll consider it,” they said between breaths.

“What?” The villain pulled back slightly.

“The line I forgot,” the hero said. They could drown in the villain’s eyes, they were sure of it. “Maybe stop killing people—“

“Don’t care,” the villain bit out, and then their mouth was on the hero’s again and nothing else mattered.

Maybe they weren’t truly hero and villain—but god were they good at pretending.

Three months later, the internet couldn’t decide what was better—that finally, after years, the hero and villain had ended up together on screen; or that off stage, their actors were desperately, hopelessly in love too.

[boneskullravenriver]

That feeling when you find a piece of writing you did in high school and feel like it's better than anything you've ever written today.

[secularbakedgoods]

once again i've got people doing the whole buy-read-return thing on kindle. for the record: if you can't afford to pay for my books, i have free copies of basically everything i write available on my itch.io store:

if there aren't any free copies left of the title you want to read, you can get in touch with me and i'll send you the book personally.

please don't buy the book on kindle and then return it once you're done reading--that fucks up my sales figures and royalties to the point where, sometimes, i end up owing amazon money.

[sparkandashes]

While others were out there building their dream lives, you were just trying to make it through the day. You weren’t chasing dreams or setting goals, or maybe you were but you couldn’t accomplish anything because you were just trying to exist, trying not to fall apart, trying not to die...

You’re not incompetent. You’re not lagging behind. It’s just that your path has been a lot harder, a lot darker. You’ve been carrying a load of trauma that most people can’t even imagine. You weren’t given the luxury to thrive because you were too busy surviving. You had to take the time to heal, to just breathe, to sit with your pain, and learn how to live with it.

You weren’t wasting time—you were saving yourself. And that’s something only you can understand, something no one else sees. And that’s okay.

—Day 1 of being kind to myself

@sparkandashes