#as if I’d make a post about not liking it and then answer a bunch of asks about it....

[schrijverr]

We’re Adopted?!?

When Bruce’s kids end up on the Watchtower due to a set of unforeseen circumstances, Jason first tries to get the League to believe that they’re all biologically related to Bruce. He tries to avoid having Jason give everyone a sex talk by reminding him that he’s adopted. This leads to all his kids pretending that this is the first time they’ve heard of it, much to the horror of the League and the exasperation of Bruce.

Based on this post.

On AO3.

Ships: none

Warnings: none

~~~~

It finally happened. After years of successfully keeping the League from finding out about all the kids he has, they’ve finally met. And in the most dramatic way too. In a way it’s very suited for their family, but that is a detail Bruce had hoped to keep from the League.

However, it happens anyway and now his two teams have met.

They’re sitting in the common area of the Watchtower when the Zeta-Tube suddenly whirs to life and the Batmobile comes crashing into the area. It spins to a stop as if it had been in the middle of a chase, before the teleporter snatched them off the streets.

Bruce gets out of his chair and makes his way over. He isn’t too worried about them, since they’re here and while that might have meant danger before, they are safe with him now. If one of them had been terribly injured or left behind, they would be screaming and yelling already and that isn’t happening yet.

His eyes meet Tim’s, who is standing next to the car, his costume a little singed, hair askew and looking a little worse for wear. Apologetically he greets: “Hi, Justice League, promise we have a good reason to be here.”

For Bruce, this is quite normal chaos and these are his kids, but he notices that the Justice League has formed a defensive barrier around the Batmobile. They perceive his kids as a threat. It’s so absurd that he is quiet for a moment.

In that moment, Superman steps forward and demands to know: “Who are you and how did you get up here?”

“With a car no less,” Hal adds, sounding a little impressed, which doesn’t make Bruce smug in the slightest, no sir.

He is about to tell everyone to stand down when the doors of the car open and his kids come spilling out. It’s a bit of a car clown moment with how many vigilantes fit inside.

Dick nearly falls out of the side, with Damian following after him. Both of them have soot in their hair and scratches on their faces.

A singed Jason stumbling out on the other side as he loudly complains: “This is the last time we’re letting Spoiler drive.”

Steph’s costume is a little flame tattered too as she swings open the driving side and says: “I’d like to see you do better, asshole. At least it wasn’t like Signal’s first driving attempt.”

“Hey,” Duke exclaims, coming out of the car after Jason, looking a little banged up. “Just because I didn’t know where the missiles were, doesn’t mean it was terrible.”

“I didn’t eject anyone,” Steph pouts.

“Yes, you did!” Duke exclaims. “You very much did.”

“Well, not by accident,” Steph argues. “It was part of the plan.”

The other front door is now open and Cass is next to him. He puts an arm around her and pulls her into his cape. Then he decides to step in, because it seems the League doesn’t know what to do when they’re not viewed as an authority.

“What happened?” he asks.

Six heads snap his way, as if his kids had forgotten where they were. It wouldn’t be the first time, so he doesn’t even bother rolling his eyes.

Tim reports: “The Riddler broke out of Arkham, along with like a bunch of b-rate villains. They caused havoc, but we rounded them all up. Riddler took the time it took us to round them up to set up his trap. He went with a fire theme.”

“Is he contained now?” Bruce asks, a little concerned.

“Yeah, no problem, B, we got ‘em,” Steph assures him casually with a thumbs up.

“Sorry, uhm, excuse me, Batman, do you know these people?” Clark asks in that awkward, polite way of his.

Bruce contemplates for a second what he should answer. Then decides that he wants to know what happened and doesn’t want to deal with questions. So he just says: “My associates. Now report, how did you end up here?”

“Associates,” Jason snorts.

However, he is ignored by his siblings as Damian reports: “We have caught the Riddler, however we did so without solving the last of his riddles. So, he sprang his trap after we took him down and we became the target of some missiles.”

“Oh my god, are you okay?” one of the League members exclaims under their breath.

“Tt, of course we’re okay,” Damian spits back. “Unlike you, we have been trained.”

“And we learned our lesson; always solve all of Riddler’s riddles,” Steph grins, giving them all a thumbs up.

“I already said that, but who listens to Red Robin? Nobody,” Tim complains.

Before it can turn into a squabble fest again, Bruce clears his throat and Dick jumps in to get them back on track, explaining: “We tried to get away in the Batmobile, but we couldn’t outrun it forever. So we decided the best way to escape was to use the Zeta-Tube connection.”

“It was great, Spoiler sent replacement flying so he could put in the code,” Jason laughs.

“I wanted to beam us to the Cave, but with the amount of time we had, just taking us to the most recently used coordinates was smarter,” Tim explains. He checks his arm computer then says: “The chatter on the police coms is that the missile made impact where we disappeared. No one was in the area when it went off, but there is property damage. And a few of the new recruits are convinced we’re supernatural, since none of our remains are being found.”

That last bit gets a few laughs from the assembled vigilantes. Most of Gotham PD have resigned themselves to the fact that the protectors of Gotham are humans, who seemingly pull of the impossible from time to time.

However, there are always newer members, who come up with great conspiracies about how they aren’t human and that’s why they pull it off. Bruce knows that it’s a bit of a game between his kids to see who can get them to believe the weirdest shit about them.

So, he just lets them have the moment of amusement after what must have been a highly tense moment.

Then he asks: “Where is Bluebird?” since he hasn’t seen Harper among the crowd, which is weird, because she’s on the night shift, while Duke is on the day shift.

“She the one, who figured out where Riddler was and caught him,” Dick says proudly. “She was escorting him to Arkham when she noticed he was being off. Without her we would’ve never made it to the Batmobile on time.”

Bruce makes a mental note to thank her for saving his other kids when he sees her.

“We also let Oracle know we’re okay, so she can inform her and Batwoman when she gets back from her mission, just in case she saw the news,” Dick goes on.

“Wait,” they get interrupted by Hal. “How many more heroes are you going to pull out of your sleeve? What happened to Mr. I Work alone? Am I being crazy here? Why are you all just standing there?”

Clark says: “Well, it’s obvious Batman knows these people and they do not seem like a threat to us, so I was going to wait until they’d given a report before demanding answers.”

“And we will demand answers, Batman,” Diana adds, making Bruce swallow a little. “We are your friends, we hoped there would be some trust there. You seem to have a whole different team of warriors. That is something you share.”

“Don’t mind, B, he just comes with permanently built in paranoia, it’s nothing against you,” Dick tells them.

In the background, Jason snorts: “Did you hear that guys? We’re his team of warriors. His associates.”

Damian huffs at that: “These imbeciles obviously do not know what they are on about and I refuse to be referred to as such, when I am the blood son.”

“I don’t know, Robin,” Steph laughs. “It almost starts to feel like he cares. I mean, he obviously has been bragging about us.”

“He has not spoken a word about us,” Damian exclaims.

In the background, Bruce can feel a headache coming. He has tried to keep his kids away from the League for their own safety. They can’t use his kids against him, should they become compromised, if they don’t know they exist.

However, they do know now and not only that, it seems like his kids are here to cause trouble on purpose now that they finally get to meet, who they refer to as, ‘his work friends AKA the only friends he has’. Delightful.

Indeed, the League has picked up on the words Jason set Damian up for, because Hal repeats: “Blood son?”

And Clark frowns: “They do seem quite young.”

“Batman, are you employing babes to protect Gotham with you?” Diana exclaims in horror.

“I am highly trained, who dares to call me a baby,” Damian protests immediately and while his siblings would usually laugh at him, they now also feel offended.

All of them have had to defend their age to people, including Bruce. They don’t like being questioned. So all of them are falling over themselves to defend their position as protectors of Gotham.

Bruce decides to help them, explaining: “There are more teen heroes, most of you have or had a sidekick. These vigilantes keep each other safe, they have the safety of back up and I also provide good gear. They’re not running around without a clue of what to do.”

“Ahww, I knew you cared, old man,” Steph coos, while Cass taps a genuine thank you in Morse code on his arm.

“Batman, I appreciate that you look out of them, but most sidekicks have had superpowers that are related to one of the heroes and sought out a mentor to help,” Clark says gently. “You have no powers, where did you get these kids?”

And in hindsight, he should have known better than to hesitate. However, at the times, he does, because the circus, the streets, the neighbor’s and some villains, are not really good answers to that question, no matter how true. And he doesn’t know if he wants to explain.

Still, he has to admit that he melts slightly when Cass speaks up to say: “His kids.”

Plus, it’s kind of funny how most League member jump out of their skin at the sudden voice, since none of them had spotted Cass before. Not even those with superhuman senses. His daughter is so talented.

Arguably the funniest reaction is Hal, who shrieks: “Where the fuck did you get these kids, Spooky!” as he violently startles backwards.

However, Jason jumps on the opportunity, sending Bruce a shit eating grin before he does (he might still be wearing the helmet, but Bruce knows him). He says: “Well, when two people love each other very much, they-”

No, just no. Absolutely not.

The League already thinks him to be a bit of a weirdo, who is steeped in paranoia. They respect him, but they’re always a little wary of him too (which is good in a way, he doesn’t want them close to his secret identity with the threat they could pose). Still, he doesn’t want them to think he practically bred an army of shadow-y vigilantes to protect Gotham. He’d never live it down.

“Hood,” he quickly cuts Jason off, before he can continue with his nonsense. Then he tiredly reminds him: “You’re adopted.”

“WHAT!” Jason shrieks, ripping his helmet off to reveal a shocked and betrayed face even with his domino mask. “How could you keep that from me?”

It seems like everyone needs a second to recover and process after the outburst. However, Jason is gaining steam and dramatically barrels on: “For years. Years! I lived with you, you fed me, you cared for me. You are my dad. At least you were. Was that all a lie? Some ruse? How- Why- I deserved to know.”

Bruce is shocked, unable to form words. His relationship with Jason has been rough, though getting better. It’s still tentative, though, so to hear Jason refer to him as dad throws him off in one of the best ways. Until he realizes Jason is fucking with him.

Even then, it is kind of nice that Jason is messing with him. When he looks, he sees that Jason is having fun under the mask of betrayal. It doesn’t have a bitter undertone, like it would have a few months ago. Instead, it feels a little like all the times Jason messed with him in front of Commissioner Gordon, back when he was Robin.

So, later Bruce will cut himself some slack for basking in that feeling for long enough that the others catch on and join in.

It starts with Steph, who has never claimed him as her father a day in his life, but will always be committed to a bit. She sniffles: “I can’t believe you’d lie to our brother like that. Soon you’ll tell us we’re all adopted.”

“Spoiler,” Bruce warns, hoping to deter anyone else from joining in.

That doesn’t happen, instead, Dick pulls Duke into a hug and exclaims: “Yeah, next you’ll tell us Signal here isn’t our half brother, like you didn’t leave his mother at the altar.” He narrows his eyes and adds: “I was the flower boy too, I can’t believe you did that to her.”

He sees Duke’s calculating gaze, flitting between Dick and himself and knows it’s only a matter of time before he picks a side, so he grunts: “Signal, don’t-”

“She talked about it until her death. Don’t tell me she made it up,” Duke suddenly says, picking the side of his siblings. Bruce would be more glad about him getting along with them, if it weren’t for the fact that in joining him, he left Bruce.

“You monster,” Jason butts back in again, not having had the spotlight in too long. “Look what you’ve done. You can’t just drop something like that on us. You can’t just pull the rug out from under us. Adopted. Or am I the only one? Huh? Is that it? Are all of them your real kids except for me?”

It’s a little too close to home, so Bruce stumbles: “No, of course, you’re always my kid. But this isn’t news to you. To any of you.”

“So we are all adopted?” Tim shrieks, stumbling forwards to clutch Bruce’s arm. “Those people you took me away from, were they my real parents? Did you lie to me?”

And this is just unfair. They’re not allowed to gang up on him like this and be dramatic. They know he doesn’t know what to do when they get like this. He gave them a home, he kept them as safe as he could, he loves them. What has he done to deserve this?

Dick and Duke are still embracing each other and Bruce is pretty sure Dick is weeping. Steph is definitely fake crying, while Jason is consoling her. Tim is still clutching his one arm, babbling about being taken from his parents.

Cass is his favorite right now, because she isn’t playing along with her sibling, just quietly huddling into his side. Damian would share the spot, but Bruce knows that the only reason he isn’t playing along, is because he doesn’t know what their game is and how he can use it to his advantage.

Indeed, he joins in – though not entirely purposefully – because he asks: “Father, I am your true son right? I am the blood son, not these imbeciles.”

Jason is definitely hiding a snort as a sob and in that moment, Bruce is tempted to disown Damian, just so he doesn’t have to deal with all this.

He can see how shocked the Justice League is, their eyes wide with horror, none of them having truly recovered at the sudden appearance at a gaggle of kids, who are now seemingly breaking down over the surprise news of being adopted.

He should’ve just let Jason give the League a sex talk.

So, he is tempted to not recognize Damian as his own, however, he knows how much Damian values his heritage and how insecure he is about his spot in the family. And he does look genuinely worried about what’s happening. So, Bruce has to sigh and reward the vulnerability that he shows with compassion, saying: “Yes, Robin.”

Jason lets out a pained groan and says: “So it is true? We really are adopted?” then breaks down crying. It’s almost impressive how well he can sob on demand. How well all of them can, Bruce wonders when they learned that and who taught them that.

The League, meanwhile has also apparently reached their limits and Hal suddenly explodes: “Fucking hell, Bats. Is that how you’re telling them that? What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Around him all the others start to nod in agreement and Bruce knows that some of those shaking shoulders of his kids aren’t sobs but laughter at this point. He wonders if it’s wrong to return any of them, despite knowing that he would never give any of them up, even with all the gray hairs they’re giving him.

He does think about it though, especially when Clark cautiously says: “It seems unnecessarily cruel, Batman. They’ve just been chased through the streets by missiles. You could have waited.”

“Yes, it is very cruel,” Diana agrees. “And I do not know you to be cruel.”

Usually, Bruce has an image to maintain, but that image includes him working alone and having no sense of humor or humanity, so obviously it’s incorrect. Besides, any reputation he might have had has just been ruined by his kids. He doesn’t have to take this judgment from his friends.

So, he throws his hands up and, bordering on a whine, says: “I’m not cruel. They all know they’re adopted. All of them were over nine when it happened. Hell, not even all of them are adopted. Not all of them wanted to be. They know! They’re just messing with me.”

It’s quiet after his outburst.

Both the League and his kids blink for a few times. It’s clear that the League doesn’t know what to believe, but his kids are luckily done with the chaos. Though, Bruce doesn’t know if he’s happy with that when he sees some of their faces morph into grins.

Dick decides to put him out of his misery first, letting go of Duke to skip forwards and sling an arm around Bruce, which he grudgingly allows. He never says no to hugs from his kids, no matter what stunt they’ve just pulled.

“He’s right,” Dick smiles at everyone. Then he jokingly tugs on one of the ears on his cowl – something he has done since his early days as Robin – as he teases: “He didn’t mind. Right, B? You are a softie under there.”

“Who cares if he minds,” Jason says loudly. “That was hilarious, did you see everyone’s faces when replacement told them he’d stolen him out of his home. Golden. I’m gonna ask O for that footage the second we get back.”

Now the League is looking at them with even more confusion. Unsure of what to do now.

Bruce wants to let them suffer, but he also doesn’t want to give his kids room to do something else to embarrass him. So, he takes the reigns saying: “Just to clear it all up; this is Nightwing, my oldest.”

“Hi, it’s nice to meet you,” Dick gives the League a bright smile.

“My second or third oldest – we’re not sure – Red Hood,” Bruce continues on, gesturing to Jason, who just gives them a salute. “And, again, the second or third oldest, Black Bat.” She waves at them, startling some again, since they’d forgotten she was there. Hm, they might have to do another stealth and awareness training day.

“This is Spoiler, she is not one of mine technically,” he continues on introducing everyone there.

Steph grins at all of them and says: “I eat his food and steal his money, but I’m not having him sign shit. All of the perks, none of the accountability.”

“And how you remind me of that,” Bruce sighs, before gesturing to Tim and saying: “This is Red Robin, my fourth kid. He is adopted, but also emancipated. And I did not steal him away from his parents.”

“Technically, he did, because they were kinda shitty, but only legally when they died,” Tim corrects, which is not necessary and Bruce will be answering questions about that for months. Judging by the smug look on his face, Tim knows.

Deciding not to engage for now, he moves on to Duke. “This is Signal, he is my ward. He normally works the day shift.”

“Hello,” Duke squeaks awkwardly.

“And this is Robin, he is the youngest,” Bruce finishes his introductions.

“I am the blood son of the Bat and the one true heir,” Damian exclaims proudly.

“Yeah, yeah, we know, brat,” Jason rolls his eyes. “You were once B’s sperm. Whoop-die-doo.”

Multiple faces contort at that, with Tim and Steph both exclaiming how gross that is and how he didn’t have to phrase it like that and how they never want to hear about Bruce’s sex life ever again in any way, shape, or form.

Hal comments: “Wait, you actually have a kid?”

Bruce fights the urge to facepalm as he deadpans: “Just a second ago, you were willing to believe I had seven or more, why do you seem surprised?”

That renders Hal speechless, which is good, because Bruce doesn’t want to be here anymore. He wants to check up properly on his kids, check up on Gotham, and be as far away from the League and their questions as he can.

So, he uses the silence to says: “Now, as interesting as this has all been, we are going home. I have a city to check on and kids to ground.”

All around him protests start up about how he either has no power over them and can’t ground them or that they’re too mature and well trained fro childish things such as grounding. But Bruce is great at tuning them out when needs must, so he types in the last of the Batcave coordinates and lets the Zeta-Tube take them home.

~~

A/N:

I love coming up with convoluted reasons of why the batfam would be in the Watchtower lmao

Also Alfred totally taught them to cry on command, knowing they would use it for evil <3

#rr writing #batfam #batfamily #batman #good parent bruce wayne #bruce wayne #dick grayson #jason todd #cassandra cain #stephanie brown #tim drake #duke thomas #damian wayne #justice league of america #justice league #jla #jl #superman #hal jordan #wonder woman #dc #dc comics

[bluesidez]

GymRat!Miguel Part 5

content warning: very fluffy, PDA ➡️ something in which the reader is shy about and Miguel is hungry for, Miguel’s bday is 10/13 here, it gets suggestive so MINORS BEWARE, George O’Hara is NOT abusive in this story and he will be Mexican here idc idc idc, some mentions of food (deer meat at one point), some of the gym photos are white men (my deepest apologies, I just want y’all to have an idea of the pose 😔)

word count: 4.3k (just nod and smile. she's thicc like me😗)

Prev | Next ✩°｡ ⋆⸜ 🎧✮ Masterlist

GymRat!Miguel who learns your schedule front to back. He’s always there to walk you to your classes and carry your heavy bags and purses. Sometimes he’ll meet you outside of your dorm, sometimes you’ll send him your location and he’ll come running. Now, you both walk into the lab building hand in hand and leave the building swinging hands. You used to despise those lovey-dovey couples who were stuck in their own world, but now you could understand them completely. They were still a little annoying, though.

GymRat!Miguel who makes a habit of sending you post workout pictures in the early mornings. His go-to poses are the worm’s eye under-chest, the standing mirror, the bench mirror, and the back mirror. The last one was specific to his dorm bathroom, too shy to take his shirt completely off. Your thorough praises made him feel warm, but sometimes you let more silly things slip.

“You could probably choke me with your thighs and I’d be thankful”

“Baby don’t say that. :(( I would never hurt you”

“Oh so you can want me to sit and lay on you but I can’t ask for the same? Wow. The double standards”

“That’s not fair. You should sit on me. I can take it and I want it. Thoroughly.”

“Oh! So you’re saying I’m not strong enough. Got it.”

“Baby I never said that!”

“Whatever Miguel 🙄”

“ㅜㅜ”

“You never answered me though. Will you sit on me?”

“Go get ready for class 😒”

“😞”

GymRat!Miguel who tells you that his birthday is coming up at the last minute possible. You berate him for telling you so late and kick yourself for not asking sooner, but you still manage to get a reservation at one of the fancy local restaurants.

You pull out all of the stops you could. A gift card from Smoothie King, a pair of slippers to match yours, the newest Final Fantasy game, and a muscle bunny keychain to match your muscle bear keychain. He was your big teddy bear, after all.

You handed him the gifts after the staff brought out a chocolate cake with sparklers on it while singing at the top of their lungs. The chocolate syrup read “Happy Birthday Miguel 🤎” around the plate.

Miguel’s smile got bigger as he took the gifts out one by one. He paused when he got to the cards: one a birthday card and the other a thick “open when…” manilla envelope.

The birthday card was simple and sweet. It was the other stuff you were worried about. You found these cute ideas about letters and notes to leave for your significant other. You had one for anger, sadness, needing a hug, sickness, boredom, and even one for wanting a kiss. You remember Jess walking in on you with your lips smashed against the cardstock, trying to get a bunch of kiss marks to cut out. She just sighed out a “young love” and carried on to her side of the room.

“It’s only been a short time since we’ve been dating, but Thanksgiving and Christmas break are coming up so I wanted to leave you with something for when you can’t reach me.”

Your heart is thumping as Miguel takes the cards out, reading their envelopes.

What you don’t expect is for Miguel to start crying.

You startle a bit, scared that the gift is awful, but he lets out a watery thank you, flustered from everything.

You quickly make your way to his side of the table and hug him. You wipe at his eyes and chuckle at his cuteness, telling him you were afraid he didn’t like it.

He shakes his head, breathes deep and slow to calm his emotions.

“No, I will definitely be using all of these. I really appreciate this. Everything. I’m not sure how you were able to do all of this, but I’m thankful that you did.”

You couldn’t take it. Here he was with dewey eyes and red tinting his cheeks. It was cuteness overload.

You face him towards you and lean forward, connecting his lips to yours.

GymRat!Miguel who stares at you stunned when you lean back. That was your first kiss with him. His first kiss with you and he was sitting here with his cheeks damp and nose sniffling away.

“I-” his heart picks up and he’s opening and closing his mouth. He was short circuiting.

“Can we- I mean if it’s ok, can we do that again?” Miguel stutters out.

You simply nod your head and lean in again, this time tilting your head.

The cards in Miguel’s hands drop to the table and his breathing stops. Your lips were soft and full. Another fraction of his dreams that were nothing compared to the real thing.

He could only hear his heartbeat and the soft jazz music in the restaurant when he let up for air.

This was definitely the best gift of the night.

GymRat!Miguel who doesn’t have the capacity to be embarrassed when the waiter comes and asks if you two need anything while he’s leaning down for another kiss.

He just got to kiss his dream girl. Who cares if the waiter saw him kiss you some more?

You jump when the waiter’s hands come close to you two as he picks up an empty dinner plate. You look to the waiter awkwardly to apologize and ask for the check.

This just makes Miguel want to pull you in his lap and kiss you as the entire staff goes by.

GymRat!Miguel who wants you to feed him bites of his cake. You happily agree, especially since he was the birthday boy. His eyes never leave you the whole time.

GymRat!Miguel who grabs the check before you can pick it up. He doesn’t want you to pay for the meal.

“Miguel, it’s your birthday. I picked the restaurant and reserved the seats,” you say a little whiney.

“But I want to pay for the dinner,” Miguel pouts as he holds the check out of your reach.

When he got like this, it was hard to change his mind.

“If you let me pay, I’ll give you another kiss.”

“Just one?” Miguel brings the check back to your level, squinting at you.

You sigh, “I’ll give you ten.”

“Deal.”

Miguel gives you the check with a giddy smile and you slap your card on it.

The kisses still don’t stop him from taking over the tip.

So stubborn.

GymRat!Miguel who texts Gabriel once he’s back in his dorm. He sends pictures of everything from the food to the cake to the gifts.

“Look at what my baby did for me 🤪”

“The same one you left at the party even tho you blew up my phone about her for weeks? 😕”

“Yes…I didn’t do it on purpose. Me and her talked about it already”

“jk jk it wasn’t your fault”

“No way she got you final fantasy. Dana barely got me a cupcake”

“This just proves that my gf is better”

“Tbf tho you and Dana are still in high school”

“Ohhhh my god. You turn one more year older than me and all of a sudden you have the wisdom of a sage. SHUT UP 😭”

“I’ll literally be in college next year”

“AND ANYWAY you’ve never shown me this so-called gf. How do Ik you haven’t gone insane?”

Miguel clicked the back of his teeth in annoyance. Peter walked by him with his eyebrow raised and Miguel just waved his hand.

He sent a picture he took of you from tonight. You looked amazing in that dress and your eyes were beautiful and deep. You were smiling at him from across the table.

“First you try to steal Dana from me and now you get her”

“It’s crazy how this world is so anti-Gabriel”

“What are you yapping about”

“And I didn’t take ANYTHING from you 🫵🏽”

“We were 6 and 7 and you couldn’t push her hard enough on the swings. When will you get over that?”

“It burns all the same”

“You should give me her number and I can let you experience that feeling”

“Gabriel.”

“Show her what a real O’Hara is like”

“Cabrón”

“You’re so lucky I’m not next to you right now”

“THE BIG C WORD?”

“I’m telling mom you called me that btw”

“All because I wanted to meet your gf ☹️”

“Bastard”

“I’M TELLING MOM YOU CALLED ME THAT! WTF?”

It wasn’t long before Miguel’s mom was calling his phone to berate him. He pressed the green button, air pushing out of his nose as his mom’s face filled up the screen.

Peter looked bug eyed as Conchata’s rapid fire words filled the room.

“Ma! That’s so not fair! Gabri called me a bastard!”

There was a quick pause as his mom made a face that he knew all too well. Miguel heard Gabriel yelp as a sandal made a loud impact with his skin.

Miguel heard Gabriel cry out as his mom took off her other shoe, ready to aim, “MIGUEL HAS A GIRLFRIEND!”

Miguel just threw his phone on the bed and groaned. He could hear Peter snickering from his desk.

“What girlfriend? Miguel! Where are you? Come back and answer me,” Conchata’s voice got louder and louder. “I can’t believe you two! You would think this distance meant that you two wouldn’t fight like you’re still sleeping in the same room.”

“We’re not fighting,” Gabriel said. He smirks as he gets in the camera next to his mom. “Miguel is still hiding things from you, though.”

Miguel picked the phone up again with a frown on his face. Gabriel just stuck his tongue out like the brat he was.

“Mijo, what’s going on?” his mom asked, concern in her voice. “First, it was the party and now this. Do you need to come home?”

“No, ma,” Miguel sighed. “Nothing is wrong. Everything is fine now. Great even.”

“Then why haven’t you told me about this girlfriend of yours?”

“We just started dating. It’s still very new,” Miguel chose his words carefully. Ever since his second seamster in high school, she’s been super sensitive towards him and his feelings. Knowing her, she might give you a hard time. He didn’t want that for you just yet. “I didn’t want to introduce you to her until we were more solid.”

“I think a girl that helps to organize the take down of a sorority in your honor is pretty solid,” Gabriel comments off camera.

“She did that?!” Conchata stares at Miguel with furrowed brows.

Miguel only nods, lips wound in a tight line.

“Oh well, mijo, I have to meet this girl!”

“I don’t think-”

“Let me know when she’s free to come home with you! Maybe over Thanksgiving?”

“Ma, she has her own family-”

“Ok I have to go now! I have to catch my shows. Call me more often or I’ll have to come up there!”

The room fell silent as the call ended and Miguel was met with his messages with Gabriel again.

“CHECKMATE!”

Miguel still wanted to throttle him.

GymRat!Miguel who’s super excited when Halloween comes and you want to wear couple costumes. He hasn’t done costumes since early middle school. Growing up meant realizing that some people your age want to grow up. Fast. No one wanted to dress up in silly costumes anymore or go trick-or-treating. Sure, the scary stories were fun but at that age, he wanted to eat candy all night, not teepee houses and run in the woods.

He’s hanging out on his bed chatting with Mary Jane and Peter while you get ready in the bathroom. The theater and art department collaborated together to host a costume party. This time, Miguel wouldn’t leave your side. Maybe if you had to pee, he would consider waiting awkwardly by the door. He didn’t want the same mistake to happen.

The two of you decide to go as Starfire and Nightwing grouping up with MJ and Peter who dress up as Raven and Beast Boy for a Teen Titans theme.

The costume is pretty tight but he has to admit, it looks great on his build.

You walk out of the bathroom with a cheery “I’m ready!”

It’s definitely not ideal that his suit is so tight.

The skirt is hugging your body in every which way. The cut-outs at your hips had his fingers twitching. To top it off, the diamond cut out for your chest left him internally screaming.

Peter whistled from his desk and MJ hollered about how good you looked. You smiled bashfully, doing a 360.

Miguel wanted to shove MJ and Peter out of the room to reenact what Starfire and Nightwing actually got up to when they were by themselves.

You walk up to him and flip your flaming hair back playfully.

“Do you like it?” you ask, peering up at him.

“I think he more than likes it,” Peter mumbles out in a stage whisper. MJ elbows him softly in the stomach.

Miguel spins you around, “Fuck yeah.”

Your laugh falls out of you, surprised at his curt reaction.

“Honestly, you two can go ahead to the party and we’ll just hang out here,” Miguel said, face as serious as ever as he wrapped himself around you from behind.

“No, no, no! You can do whatever you want after the party. Keep it in, buddy,” Peter says as he starts to guide everyone to the door.

Miguel keeps himself attached to you all night.

GymRat!Miguel who helps you bring your things to your car for Thanksgiving break. It’ll only be a week but he feels like he might not make it.

“You’ll see me again next Sunday, Miggy” you say to him as he’s bent over you with the biggest pout out ever.

“I’m still gonna miss you,” Miguel leans further with his forehead on yours. “Wish you could come with me.”

“Maybe over the winter break we can plan a time to meet outside of school.”

Miguel just sighs dramatically.

You decide to say fuck it and kiss him in the middle of the almost empty parking garage.

Miguel doesn’t let up now that you’ve given him an inch. He’s holding you by your hips, your face, your waist, anything to get closer. He moans a bit into your mouth as you open up.

You wrap your arms around his neck and whisper, “I really have to get on the road now, baby. And so do you.”

Miguel slumps as he guides you to your driver’s seat. You roll the window down and pucker your lips for another kiss.

Miguel obliges easily and asks, “Call me when you get there?”

“Of course,” you say.

He stands and watches you drive off, missing you already.

GymRat!Miguel who is almost knocked down when he opens the door to his home. Gabriel is wrapped around him like a koala, squeezing away.

Miguel laughs and rubs his back, relieved that he’s not heavy enough to knock him over.

“It’s good to see you too, Gabri,” Miguel laughs.

Conchata peaks around the corner and almost cries at the sight.

“My boys!” She coos while coming to the door. “George! Come help Miguel with his bags!”

Miguel waddles in with Gabriel still clinging to him. He’s glad to be home.

GymRat!Miguel who gets your call in the middle of Gabriel watching him play Final Fantasy. He pauses the game and runs to his room, Gabriel yelling at him to come back and unpause the game.

You tell that you made it home and that you’ll call him later.

You blow a kiss at the screen and he catches it with glee before you end the call.

Miguel is glad you left before Gabriel opens his door like that one big bird meme.

“Was that her?” he asks, voice excited. “Is she still on the phone?”

“Yes. No. Why are you eavesdropping like a creep?”

“I wasn’t eavesdropping! It just dawned on me a little too late that you left to go talk to her.”

“Whatever,” Miguel groaned. “Let’s just get back to the game.”

“You know you can’t hide her from me forever, right?” Gabriel says, skipping next to Miguel.

“I’m not trying to. But you being a weirdo will make me want to.”

Conchata passes by them with a laundry basket on her hip, “Who’s hiding something?”

“Nobody!” Both Miguel and Gabriel shout in her direction and run back to their game.

Conchata rolls her eyes and continues to her bedroom.

GymRat!Miguel who becomes overwhelmed on Thanksgiving Day. It’s as if every close and distant relative was here. The first floor was full of people. As much as Miguel puts on, he’s never been an much of an extrovert.

He’s up in his room taking a breather. He pulls out one of the cards you gifted him. The one for when he missed your kisses.

He opens and pulls out a letter. There’s instructions on it.

“Each shade is for a different feeling!”

There was a cute chibi doodle of you kissing him on the cheeks at the bottom of the letter. He saw that there was a shade for nervousness/being overwhelmed.

He pulls out a polaroid of you and opens the bag of glossy paper kisses. He flips one and it reads, “Breathe slow and steady 10 times. Kiss me when you’re done.”

He does as you say and brings the paper to his lips. It even smells like you. Sweet. Fruity.

He smiles to himself and takes out one more.

GymRat!Miguel who finally lets Gabriel talk to you on Friday.

“He can be a bit annoying. I’m warning you now,” Miguel says.

“Don’t say that, Miggy. He’s your brother! He’s allowed to bother you at least a little. ”

Miguel yells for Gabriel to come in and he’s running to snatch Miguel’s phone.

“Hi! My name is Gabriel, the better O’Hara. It’s so nice to finally meet you!”

“Oh my gosh,” Miguel watches as you gasp. “It’s like another Miguel!”

Miguel snickers as Gabriel groans loudly in annoyance.

“I don’t look like him. He looks like me!” Gabriel pouts.

“Well, you both sport that same O’Hara pout.”

Gabriel and you chat for a long time. Miguel had to cut the conversation short when Gabriel started to tell embarrassing stories from their childhood.

“Alright, you’re done,” Miguel says and snatches the phone back.

“Aw, but we were just getting to the good stuff!”

“Yeah!” you say. “I wanna know how you messed up the science lab in middle school!”

“Nuh uh, Gabri is running his mouth too much. Get out.”

“I can’t wait to see you in person!” Gabriel shouts as Miguel pushes him towards the door. “You can meet my girlfriend too! She’ll love you!”

“I can’t wait,” you say, laughing as Miguel struggles to detach Gabriel’s fingers from the doorway.

GymRat!Miguel who talks to you on the phone until you fall asleep. You look adorable as you’re blissful to the outside world. Your cheek is squished on your pillow.

He has the urge to bite it like it’s mochi.

“Buenas noches, mi amor,” he whispers before he closes his eyes, falling asleep to the sound of your breaths.

He didn’t know that you were still partially awake to hear him.

GymRat!Miguel who picks you up and spins you around after the break. You squeal in shock, surprised that he could pick you up in the first place.

“Baby, I lift much heavier weights at the gym. This is nothing,” Miguel stares at you as if you have two heads when you comment on it.

You’re in a daydream the rest of the day because of that fact.

GymRat!Miguel who joins you on your late study nights in the library closer to finals. You two always sit at one of the tables hidden by the giant bookshelves.

It was nice and cozy. Quiet and roomy.

It was also a great place to makeout.

Every time you got a set of flashcards memorized, Miguel would pull you in his lap and devour you with kisses. It was a great motivation and a welcomed distraction.

It always ended up getting a little too heated and Miguel would have to excuse himself to go to the bathroom.

Sometimes you would feel so delirious that you wanted him to stay so you could crawl under the table and take care of his problems for him.

That was definitely the multiple late nights talking.

GymRat!Miguel who is super bummed out by the time Christmas break starts because you two can’t find a proper time to meet.

You have to visit several other family member’s houses and his biological dad wants his family to join him and his family at some ski resort before the week of Christmas.

George O’Hara was not turning down a free vacation.

You told him to cheer up and enjoy the snow and jacuzzis. Miguel couldn’t help but to think that the jacuzzi would be better with you on top of him in it.

And when Gabriel annoys him, he didn’t mind all that much because that was his baby brother whom he loves dearly. It was when Kron, his step-brother, would run his mouth that Miguel would seriously get annoyed.

He’s been competing with Miguel ever since he caught on to the fact that his dad had a secret love child.

Right now though, he was pissing Miguel off.

First, it was fighting Miguel over a snowboard. Then, it was taking the last elk burger and not even finishing it. Next, trying to knock him off balance right as he got off of the ski lift.

It was as if he was 8 and not 20.

His final straw was when he was being a dick towards Gabriel. All Gabriel was trying to do was bring them together and Kron cursed at him.

Even Miguel doesn’t tell Gabriel to fuck off.

“What is up with you? Don’t cuss at him. He didn’t do anything to you,” Miguel unlocks himself from his snowboard, ready to leave.

“It’s ok, Migs,” Gabriel held his hand out, knowing how this could end.

“No it’s not. He’s been nothing but a dickhead to you, to us, this entire trip. I’m sick of it. Go be annoying somewhere else, Kron.”

“Dad,” Miguel shouts out. Both George and Tyler looked over at him in concern. Miguel didn’t feel like directing himself towards a specific person. “I’m going to the room, I’ll be back down for dinner.”

Tyler wanted to run after him. George was eyeing Tyler for even reacting to Miguel’s cries. Nancy and Conchata just stood in confusion.

“He, uh, he probably just needs a breather. Maybe he’ll talk to his girlfriend!” Gabriel said trying to lighten the mood.

“Girlfriend? What girlfriend? I didn’t hear about any girlfriend,” Tyler says, saddened that he was being left out.

“Shit,” Gabriel mumbled to himself.

“You don’t live in our home, Tyler. Of course you don’t know,” George says, a bit peeved.

“What George means to say is that it’s all new. Fresh! Even I haven’t met the girl,” Conchata slides in matter of factly.

“Tyler should know her, being that she was the one who emailed him with our son’s case,” George grumbled out.

Tyler turned to Gabriel, “Jessica?”

“Uh, no.”

Tyler then says your name with a fondness. As if he knew you like an old friend. “She was quite compelling with her words!”

“So the two of you know of her and I still don’t even know what she looks like. I never thought this day would come,” Conchata held her gloved hand over her forehead like she was about to faint.

“Why don’t we host a small dinner next year? We can get to know her that way,” Nancy chimes in.

“Guys, I really don’t think that’s necessary-”

“Nonsense, Gabriel. If this girl was willing to do something so brave for Miguel we have to meet her,” Tyler grips Gabriel’s shoulder tight. A grip that could rival his brother’s.

“That’s a great idea, Tyler! Nice co-parenting move!” Conchata holds her fist out for him to bump. He does it proudly and they walk towards one of the cabins while Nancy follows behind, discussing dinner ideas.

George only scoffs and stomps off to his room mirroring Miguel’s mannerisms.

Gabriel was screwed once Miguel finds out.

GymRat!Miguel who waits until Christmas night in his bedroom to open the gift you sent to him. He smiles at your cute message and unfolds the paper to so much. It’s a Spider-man lego mask, a customized hoodie with a doodle of you and him, two picture frames with the two of you from his birthday dinner and the Halloween party, and some polaroids that you warned him to look at by himself later.

His breath shuttered as he took him in. They were all of you in your dorm room. They started off innocent. You were smiling, laughing, staring at the camera. Then they got a little more explicit.

You had on a tank top with no bra. Your cleavage was on display. Some showed your entire body on the bed. Some showed your torso and hips, curvy and full.

Miguel felt faint.

His final straw was the last picture in the stack. It was a picture of you from behind, “Merry Christmas XX” written in cursive across the top. You had on briefs but your ass was still readable, peaking out from the bottom. There was an arch in your back as you looked over your shoulder seductively. What a tease.

You were going to send him to an early grave. And who took these pictures?

All Miguel remembers was shuddering, hips lifting off the bed as he held one of pictures high. He had to bite his shirt as to not startle the entire house.

After he cleans up, he spreads the pictures across his bare chest and clicks a photo with a lazy yet satisfied smile.

You respond back with voice memos, so happy that he loved his gift. You also send some sounding a bit needy.

Miguel calls you and talks with you all night.

This Christmas wasn’t so bad after all.

dividers by: @plutism 🩵

a/n: This one was really fun to write!! I dove deep into my lover girl brain for this. Like full on immersing myself into the reader’s position. I hope you enjoyed! 🩵

As always likes and reblogs are super appreciated. PLEASE COMMENT OMG. 😭 Let me know how you feel or I get nervous 😭😭😭!

taglist: @ghost-lantern @miguelhugger2099 @slushycoookie @emelie-s-h @lake-lili @obsessed-with-miguels-ass @scaleniusrm @superiorspiderass @lexluvswriting @flordelalunas @froggygal @vmpz8sauceee @famouscattale @nixinluv02 @jada-of-arcadia @spideykid22 @what-the-jams @julia4today @tojishugetiddies @samjinxx @sleeklyalisha @the-pan-liquid @prongs-lover @kikaaauu @urlocallocachica @wanderlustingcastaway @peachey-pie @ch3rry-bl1ss @girl-of-multi-fandoms @love-kha1 @manlikemilesmyguy @sillysillygoofygoose @monticellohoe @kodzuminx @lauraolar14 @bruhhvv @m4dyy @farrowroyale @ce3stvu @ohara-whore @muneca-lemon-steppa @alexa4040 @amelialysm

#love lab drabbles 💊 #GymRat!Miguel 💪🏾 #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara x plussize!reader #miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara x chubby!reader #miguel o'hara x reader #x plus size reader #x chubby reader #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o'hara x fem!reader #spiderman 2099 x reader #miguel ohara x reader #miguel x you #miguel o'hara au #miguel o'hara imagine

[theabigailthorn]

Hi Abby! I have a question I’ve been wondering for a while, and I really hope it’s okay to ask. I’ve been a little worried about it because, idk…it’s a tough topic, and I know a lot of trans people get a bunch of bullshit flack, and I don’t want to accidentally contribute to that. That being said— do you miss anything from before you transitioned?

I’m definitely some flavor of trans, but idk what exactly 😅 and you’ve been a major hopeful figure to me. I just can’t help but wonder…is it…worth it? So many people say it is. But I’m so scared. I don’t want to lose my family or their love, even if it’s conditional. And sometimes I’m scared that I’ll miss aspects of myself as who I am now. So I wanted to ask you, because I look up to you and respect you a lot!

Sorry that this ask is a mess, I’m kind of all over the place. And obviously you don’t have to answer if it makes you uncomfortable or if these are shitty questions to ask. However! If you’re comfortable, I’d love to know your thoughts. Thank you so much for all you do — it’s more than you know.

In my experience yes it's absolutely worth it because the alternative for me was dying, so it'd have to be pretty rotten not to be worth it! But in addition to that quite grim baseline, yes I think it's the best thing I've ever done. It's allowed me to experience so much more of the variety and wonder of being a person in a way that I couldn't have imagined when I was in the closet - it's made me more intelligent, more moral, more compassionate, and closer to the people I love than ever before. There are challenges that come with it, sometimes huge challenges - especially in this time of transphobic backlash - but if you gave me a magic wish I really don't think I'd choose to have been born cis. In terms of worrying you'll miss aspects of yourself, I had that worry too - I discussed it with Mia Mulder when my egg was cracking and she said, "You will change, but you keep the good bits."

At the same time, it's important to be realistic: transition won't solve your problems and there are no consequence-free transitions. I was lucky in that there was only one person in my old life who couldn't accept me post-transition, but it was someone I loved very much and it still hurts a little - I still hope that one day we might find a way to be friends again. Transition also comes with tradeoffs and compromises, much like life!

#transition

[americasass91]

Use Me

Hello there! I know I’ve been M.I.A. for awhile. And literally haven’t written anything in like 8 months. I’ve been going through a shit ton. (Divorce, job change, all kinds of fun stuff) And I really lost my spark to write. And then the Fnaf movie came out. And seeing Josh Hutcherson on screen again lit a fire inside of me! That boy was my original crush (long before Evans). Peeta Mellark will forever have a piece of my heart. That being said, here’s a little something starring Mike Schmidt! I know, I know. It’s not a Chris Evans character? What’s wrong with me? Josh is fucking pretty. That’s what’s wrong with me. Like, I have a problem. Don’t get me wrong, I still think Chris is pretty and hope the best for him. But…he’s not been my muse lately. I said a long time ago that I wanted Josh to fuck me like a screen door in a hurricane. And it apparently still holds true today! So, I hope you enjoy it even though this is not a part of your regularly scheduled programming! Also, this takes place after the events of FNAF. Also, Also. Not sure if the people on my Taglist for Chris’ characters want to be tagged in Josh’s. If so, just let me know!

*DISCLAIMER*, If you’re under 18, this is nothing for you to be reading. Go away.

Words: 3.3k

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Smut, p in v smut, oral(f rec), unprotected sex, language, Mike being good, um I think that’s it

💙💙💙💙💙 

“Listen Y/N, I’m gonna need you to stay and work the next shift.”

You turn around and look at your manager as if she had suddenly grown 3 heads. “Excuse me? I don’t think I heard you right. It sounded like you said you needed me to stay and work the next 8 hour shift.”

She rolls her eyes as she goes back to charting the current patient she’s working on. “You know that’s exactly what I said. Look, I have no other options. Hannah called off.”

“Again? This is like the third day in a row! How is that fair exactly?” You put your patient’s paperwork down and cross your arms over your chest as you stare at her expectantly.

She doesn’t even bother looking at you as she answers. “I don’t know what to tell you Y/N. She says she’s sick. I can’t have her come in if she’s sick.”

Now it’s your turn to roll your eyes. “If by sick you mean hungover! She literally posted on Instagram last night about her night out on the town!”

She glances over at you. “There’s no way to prove if that was from last night or if it's older. Now just get back to work and I’ll let you have an hour and a half break instead of an hour.”

Now you’re pissed. “Yeah, see, that's not going to work for me. I’ve already been here for 16 hours because Kim was late. I’m not working Hannah’s whole ass shift. I have plans. I finally get to see my boyfriend after weeks because our schedules weren’t lining up. I’m not staying.”

“You really don’t have a choice. I wasn’t really asking you, I was telling you. There’s no one else to cover.”

Tears started welling up in your eyes out of frustration, exhaustion, and the possibility of not being able to see Mike again. “There’s a bunch of other people that can cover! What about you? You’ve only been here 8 hours. It would make more sense for you to stay.” 

She turns in her chair to look at you now. “Y/N, I have actual plans. My husband has a work party. And the rest of us have husbands and children to attend to. Not just ‘hanging out with my boyfriend.’

Now you’re seeing red. “So what you’re saying is because I’m the only nurse on this floor not married, I get the shitty end of the deal and have to cover when other people call off?”

“No. If you had legit plans then I’d be more sympathetic. But you haven’t even been with this boy that long. You don’t need to spend every free moment with him.”

“I’m sorry but who do you think you are? My mother? Because I’m a grown ass woman. And if I want to hang with my boyfriend on my time off then I’m going to! I don’t really need your approval for it. I’m not staying.”

You grab your Stanley and start heading towards the locker room to grab your stuff. 

“Y/N! If you don’t stay, then you can forget about this job.”

You turn around just before reaching the end of the hallway. “Well, then I guess you’re going to have to stick around and cover Hannah’s shift. Stick it up your ass, Jan. I quit.”

You don’t even stay to hear what she has to say. You quickly run to your locker and grab all of your stuff out before you start to cry. You can’t believe you just quit. And it’s not just because of your boyfriend. You haven’t been treated right since the first week you started. This was just the last straw. You just hope Mike won’t be disappointed in you.

💙💙💙💙💙

After a quick shower and outfit change at home, you reluctantly find yourself pulling into Mike’s driveway and getting out of the car. You haven’t gotten to see him in about 3 weeks and you know you look like shit from not only your long ass shift but also because you cried on the way over.

You head to the front door and open it up. He always leaves the door unlocked when he knows you’re coming over, and get hit with the aroma of pasta. Mike’s cooking you dinner. That makes you want to start crying all over again. He’s the sweetest.

“Babe? Is that you?” You hear him call from the back of the house. He quickly comes towards the front and sees you. His smile falters when he sees the state you’re in. “Babe, are you okay? What happened?” He quickly wraps you up in a hug. 

You try your best to keep it together but a few tears fall. “I quit today.”

He pulls out of the hug but keeps his arms around you. “You did? Babe, that’s fantastic!” He pulls you back in for another hug and picks you up to twirl you around.

Your mood instantly lifts and you can’t help but laugh. “It is?”

He sets you down and pulls you in for a quick kiss. “Of course it is! That place was treating you like shit! And Jan was a bitch! What finally made you do it?”

He lets go of all but your hand and leads you into the kitchen so he can continue making spaghetti. He sets you down at the table and pours you a nice big glass of wine he bought just for tonight. “I want to hear all about it.”

He goes back to the stove and continues making dinner while you rehash the last 16 hours.

He turns around with the sauce spoon in his hand and his other on his hip. “Hannah called off again? Jesus, how does she still have a job? Didn’t she do this to you last year during Christmas?”

Oh, shit. You had forgotten about that. She did do this last year! You had plans to fly home and see your family for the holidays when Hannah unexpectedly came down with ‘the flu’. Jan had called and needed you to work since nobody else could cover. You felt like since you were still new at the time that you couldn’t say no. Now you’re getting pissy all over again. 

“Oh my god! You’re right! Maybe the bitch has some vendetta out against me. I’ve never done anything to her though! I’ve been nothing but nice!”

Just then your phone dings, alerting you of a text. You quickly check it. It’s from Hannah.

I can’t believe you threw a tantrum and quit just because I wasn’t feeling my best and couldn’t come in. Wow. All so you can hang out with your piece of shit delinquent boyfriend. You sure have your priorities straight.

“Fucking cunt!” You yell as you throw your phone across the table. Then immediately you slap your hands over your mouth just as Mike turns around to see what you’re yelling about.

“What’s wrong? Who was it?”

You remove your hands from your mouth. “Mike, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to curse that loud. I hope Abby didn’t hear me.”

He waves you off. “Babe, she’s not even here. She got invited to a sleepover at Natalie’s house. We’re alone. You’re good.”

You sigh in relief. “Thank god! I don’t want any of my bad habits to rub off on her.”

Mike just chuckles and turns back to the sauce. “If she turns out anything like you, I’d be entirely okay with that.”

You can’t help but feel a blush creep up your neck. He was always saying sweet stuff like that. You get up and hug him from behind and press a kiss to the back of his neck. “You’re too sweet.”

He turns around in your arms and grabs your face and gives you a proper, toe-curling kiss. “I mean it.”

After a few more shared kisses, Mike finishes up dinner and fixes you both a plate and a glass of wine for himself. As you’re sitting there twirling your spaghetti around your fork, you can’t help but think about Hannah’s text again. And then all of the little snide remarks she’s ever made to you come flooding back.

“Babe?”

You snap out of your thoughts and Mike comes back into focus. “Yeah?”

He puts his fork down. “I asked if there was something wrong with the spaghetti? You’ve hardly touched it.”

You look down at your plate and realize you’ve just been twirling it around your fork. “No, it’s fine. Just thinking about what Hannah said and how much it pisses me off. I’m sorry, I’m not meaning to ruin our time together.”

He smiles and grabs both of your plates and gets up and places them on the counter. He comes back over and holds his hand out to you. “Come on.”

You grab his hand with no hesitation and let him pull you out of your chair and let him lead you to his bedroom.

He turns around to face you right before you get to his bed. “First of all, you could never ruin our time together. I love getting to spend time with you no matter what. Second of all, it sounds like you need to let out some anger and need a distraction.”

You can’t help but feel all tingly at the smirk he’s giving you. “What did you have in mind?”

He backs up a little and sits on the bed and looks up at you. “Use me, Y/N.”

You shake your head. “What? What do you mean?”

He reaches out to grab your hands to pull you towards him. “I mean use me. Use me to distract yourself and to take your anger out on. I’ll be a good boy and do whatever you need.”

That almost had your knees buckling. “Oh.” He lifts your shirt up and starts pressing kisses along your stomach while running his hands from your back to your hips and down to your ass. You’ve never been in this position before. Sure, you guys have only been together for like 5 months but anytime you’ve ever been intimate, he’s been the one who’s taken charge.

He pulls back and looks up at you. “Use me, baby. I got you. Tell me what you need.”

You decide to run with it and take control and blurt out the first thing that comes to mind. “I wanna sit on your face.”

He lets out a little whimper as he moves back on the bed. “Fuck, baby. Please sit on my face. I want you to suffocate me.”

He lays back and patiently waits for you to remove your pants and panties. You hesitantly climb up on the bed. You’ve never done this before with anyone but have always wanted to try it. You climb up until you’re straddling his waist and lean down to kiss him. 

He returns the kiss enthusiastically and grinds you down onto him so you can feel how hard he already is for you. It makes you let out a small moan into his mouth. The making out only lasts for a few more minutes before you pull away and start climbing up until you’re hovering right above his mouth.

Before you fully lower yourself onto him you grab his hair and yank so that he has to look at you. He lets out another beautiful whimper. “I’m going to ride your face until I can’t think of anything else but your tongue. You’re going to be good and make me cum as many times as I want, right?”

He nods instantly. “Yes, I promise I’ll be good for you.”

“Good boy.” You tell him, which makes his eyes roll to the back of his head. Hmm. Who knew he had a praise kink?

You let go of his hair and grab onto the headboard with both hands before you slowly lower yourself onto his waiting mouth. 

He immediately grips your thighs and pulls you even harder on him and starts eating you out like a man starved. “Oh, fuck!” You throw your head back and start grinding on his tongue. He gives you a few more licks before he sucks your clit into his mouth and starts lapping his tongue back and forth against it. “Oh, god. Fuck, Mike! You’re so fucking good at that.”

Your praise has him moaning and whimpering into your pussy, heightening the experience that much more. He moves his right hand towards your ass and gives it a nice squeeze before moving towards your pussy and immediately inserting two fingers.  It makes you start grinding faster, feeling yourself already close to the edge.

He starts pumping his fingers in time with your grinding, pushing you even closer to the edge. You can’t believe how quickly he got you there. 

“Mike, please! Gonna cum! Make me cum.”

He pumps his fingers even faster and lightly bites down on your clit, knowing it’ll make you fall over the edge.

You scream his name out and grind on him until it’s too much and you lift yourself away from his mouth. To which he whimpers out, “where’s that pussy going? I wasn’t done yet.”

You let out a breathy laugh. “Jesus. I almost passed out from how hard I came. Give me a minute.”

“So I did good?” He looks up at you with big eyes and his chin glistening with your juices.

You pat his hair. “You did so good, baby. Made me feel so good.”

He smiles and wraps his arms around your thighs and presses soft kisses to the inside of them. You close your eyes and take a minute to enjoy that before you look behind you and see his erection pressing painfully against his jeans. You need that inside of you. Right now.

You remove yourself from his face and he lets out a little whine. “Don’t worry. I’m not done. Need your cock, baby.”

You’ve never seen him undo his belt and slide his jeans down that quickly before. It almost makes you chuckle. “Eager, are we?”

He nods as he pushes his jeans down far enough that his cock springs free and hits your ass. “Need to feel you around me, babe. Please.”

You lean down and pull him into a kiss which he returns generously. You can taste yourself on his tongue. He grabs his cock and hits it against your ass, signaling that he’s ready for you to slide onto him. You take the hint and lift up and back until he catches at your entrance. He’s the first one to break the kiss as you slowly slide down onto him. The little whimpers he lets out as you sit flush against his thighs is music to your ears.

You decide to tease him and just stay resting there for a minute while looking down at him. He has his eyes clenched shut and a death grip on your hips. He opens his eyes after a few moments and looks up at you. He reaches his right hand up and places it on your cheek, caressing it with his thumb. “Go ahead and use me babe. Take what you need from me.”

You slowly start moving your hips back and forth, never really lifting them up and down. The friction against your clit is so delicious. You place both hands on his chest and start moving your hips a little faster. “Oh, fuck baby. You feel so good. You’re so deep.” 

“Yeah? Am I making my girl feel good?”

You smirk down at him. “Oh, yeah. You’re being so good for me.”

He lets out another whimper as he grabs you by the back of your head and pulls you in for a heated kiss. This one sloppy and desperate. His hand that’s still on your hip starts moving you a little harder against him. He pulls away from your mouth and kisses his way up your neck towards your ear. “Come on babe. Cum on my cock. I can feel you clenching around me. Cum for me so I can be good and cum for you.”

This time you’re the one letting out a whimper. “Yeah? Want me to be your good boy and cum for you? Fill you up?”

“Please.” You whine out, moving your hips even faster than before. You can feel your orgasm coming like a freight train. There’s no stopping it. 

“Oh yeah. I can feel it. You’re gonna cum for me. Do it. Make a mess on me babe. Please, I need it.”

“Yeah? You need me to cum for you? Need to feel me cum? Oh, god Mike. I’m almost there. Please don’t stop.”

He continues helping you grind your hips against his. You’re almost there. Just a little something…..

“I love you, Y/N. So fucking much.”

That did it. You’re pitched off the edge and silently scream out. The edges of your vision going white. You can vaguely hear Mike whimpering out your name as he does as promised and fills you up. You slow your hips down until you can’t move them anymore and slump down against him with your face tucking into the crook of his neck. He wraps his arms around you and rubs his hands up and down your back.

You both stay like that until your heartbeats return to normal. You lift up your head just until you can see him, almost nose to nose. He’s the first to speak. “So, did I do good for you?”

You let out a chuckle. “You were so good, baby.” You can feel him twitch inside of you at the praise. “But, we need to talk about what you said.”

Mike scrunches his brows for a few minutes before his eyes go wide and he realizes what he said. “Shit, I did not mean to say that.”

You can’t help the disappointment that crosses your face. “Oh, well that’s okay. It was in the heat of the moment.”

He quickly wraps his arms tighter around you. “No! That’s not what I meant. Shit. I one hundred percent meant it. I just wanted to make it special when I told you. Not in the middle of an orgasm. You deserve better than that.”

You smile and press a kiss to the tip of his nose. “I appreciate the thought. But I really don’t need anything special. I already have you.”

His smile lights up his entire face. “I love you, Y/N.”

This time you press a kiss to his lips. “I love you, too Mike. Like, a lot.”

“I bet not as much as I love you.”

Just as you’re about to retort, Mike’s cell starts vibrating, causing you to jolt with fright since his phone is still in his pocket which your leg is pressed up against.

“Jesus Christ.”

You quickly get up so that he can grab his phone. “Hello?”

You go into the bathroom to clean up. You come back in with a wet cloth to clean Mike up. He just hangs up as you come in the room. “Everything okay?”

He smiles in thanks as you hand him the cloth. He goes about cleaning himself up. “Yeah. That was Natalie’s mom. Apparently Abby has decided she doesn’t wanna stay the night so I have to go get her.” He stands and pulls his jeans back up and smooths his shirt out. “Sorry we won’t be alone anymore.”

You pull him in for a quick kiss. “Nothing to apologize for. I love you Mike. And that means loving all of you. Which includes Abby. Whom you know I just adore. Go get her and we’ll have a movie night or something.”

He shakes his head and pulls you in for another kiss. “I still don’t know what I did to deserve you.”

You just smile in return. “After the past year you’ve been through, you deserve to be happy.”

He chuckles as he heads out the door. “Ain’t that the damn truth!”

#mike schmidt smut #mike schmidt x y/n #mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt #josh hutcherson #josh hutcherson smut #fnaf #mike schmidt x you #mike schmidt imagine #fnaf x y/n #fnaf x reader #michael schmidt #five nights at freddy's

[ghouljams]

Okay sorry if I sent a double ask b/c I genuinely can’t remember whether I already sent this or just like thought about it a bunch in my head, but:

I’m the person who sent the ask saying that moon and soap reminded me of Austen and I’m losing my mind at the idea of you writing more austenian!au thoughts 🥰🥰🥰 I love the ghost stuff and I’d love to know if there’s anything you have in mind for the rest of the 141

Ps. The die x ghost fic emotionally destroyed me in the best way possible 💕

Yes yes yes, I have your ask but at risk of posting the same ask twice I am going to answer this one! Here's my pitch for Soap and Moon in the austenian!au (although I could call it a regency au)

You're not exactly a desirable match. Mostly due to your temperament than any other failing. You're of a mind that it's better to keep people at arms length before they disappoint you. As such your loving parents have taken it upon themselves to arrange a marriage for you. Fair enough, none of you particularly expect a love match. You, however, are not happy. Why should you want a man around? So you can be nagged at, complained to? So you can have someone to dig your claws into or ignore completely?

It's really only when your Soap shows up all the way from Scotland that you realize how far your parents were willing to go to make sure you couldn't fuck this up. Oh he's got a good title, good standing, good body, good jaw and voice and he tips your head and tells you you're ever so pretty. And when you bite his hand his eyes burn for you. You're desperate to find some way to get him to call off the engagement --he hardly knows you, only agreed to it over letter, it shouldn't be this hard!-- but he won't budge. He'll drag you down the aisle kicking and screaming if he has to, but he won't. No, he knows that all your barbs are defensive, he knows that you're trying to guard a fragile heart, and he's going to make this a love match.

Because he's been in love with you since he first received your portrait. Since your father described you as "difficult, but well meaning." Since he could understand what love was, and start dreaming of you.

#cod x reader #x reader #john soap mactavish x reader #john soap mactavish #john mactavish x reader #johnny soap mactavish x reader #johnny soap mactavish #johnny mactavish #soap modern warfare #soap mactavish #soap cod #soap mw2 #soap x reader #I wanna suck him off under his kilt #woah who said that

[undercoverpena]

stockings and stars

javier peña x f!reader

summary: Still need the star putting on the top of the tree. ive got other plans for you Because I’m the star? yeah you're my star and youre not going anywhere but on your back

from the late night texts world - but can still be enjoyed on its own. chapter warnings: allusion to/mentions of smut. no actual smut. javi undresses you, though. flirting. fluff. reader wears red lingerie and a dressing gown. javi flirting. sexy talk, romcom vibes ofc ✨ wordcount: 3k

an: to @goodwithcheese merry christmas from me, to you. thank you for everything, for the tuesday fun we have - i wanted nothing more than to have this out sooner, but life, you know? but, i adore you. and I'm so glad we found one another. ahuge thanks to @thetriumphantpanda who cheerleaded for me throughout.

text key: bold is you/reader | italics is javi

Will I be seeing Santa Javi today? I want to decorate my tree.

one time I come to yours in a red shirt

You also had the tree under your arm and a bag of baubles, I’d class those as gifts.

keep talking baby and you can decorate your tree alone

Think I’m gonna wear that shirt you left here while I do it. Make sure I have to get up on my tip toes. Hope it doesn't rise up...

you don’t play fair

I think I’ll be in stockings too…

youre killing me

Maybe they’re white and red, and…

baby if i wasn’t putting this thing up for Pop, i’d be driving over right now

Hope you hurry up, I need someone tall to put the star on top of the tree.

how am I gonna eat you out when youre perched on the tree baby

The last thing on his to-do list from his Pop is to hang the front porch garland.

He had learnt there had been a huge difference in the front and the back porch garlands. A fifteen-minute-long difference when he'd timed the response given to his sarcastic answer.

Javi learnt there was not only one for the back porch and the front, but one which sat across the fireplace and one on the staircase.

He learnt that after he'd made a joke about mixing them up—earning himself a very pointed glare, and the task of the front porch.

Now, it’s a battle he’s losing.

Tremendously so.

While he’d never want his Pop to do the more challenging tasks, he did rather hate he hadn’t thought to trade this one in for the back porch at the very least—because that had looked fucking easy.

Holding the garland in hand, he’s suddenly hit with a second wave of nostalgia, the first having arrived when he'd pulled down the box and peered into it.

It did the same thing as it had done then, all but rushed over him, layering itself on his shoulders, sitting, nothing short of a comfortable weight on him. Letting his gaze fall out over it, he smiles at the tuffs of fabric, all the bows tied by hand, all in an array of sizes and shades.

Over time, he can see how they've become sun-dyed, remembering the first year they'd been sewn into the faux greenery by his mamá, memories of her all hunched over, humming carols.

Smiling, he rolls his lips, letting out a heavier sigh than he intended as he drags it to the post he’d begin at.

But, all he wonders is whether in the years he wasn’t here, whether it was occasionally hung—or if this year is just that special.

The mere hint that he was going to ask if you wished to spend Christmas at the ranch had sent his Pop into overdrive. Practically yanked him out of his chair like he’d been electrified, a bunch of orders being flung from under his white, wiry moustache that they needed to get ready.

He wasn't sure he'd get the image of his Pop suddenly scrambling around like a man half his age, to drag the decorations out from the cupboard, would ever be erased from his mind. Least of all the sound you'd made aww'ing down the phone when he'd given you a condensed version of the story.

Because he hasn't asked you yet, not properly.

Even though he's spent the last two days at the back of barns and spending a ridiculous amount of time at the hardware store—because we need to make sure the lights stay up, Jav.

He just hasn't found the right time to ask you. A promise each time he goes to see you left in the air. Not that his Pop remembers that, instead he's just busy thinking up ways to make it special: one of which includes decorating the trees at the entrance to the ranch.

An idea having sprouted with the newest ranch hand—one which, if Javi overheard correctly, involves rope acting like tinsel and a cowboy hat being the star on the top of the trees.

Feeling his phone vibrate, he temporarily ignores it as he begins to weave the beginning of the garland around the wood—already knowing, before he tries to move it around the spindles, that it isn’t going to be easy.

Because nothing ever fucking is.

Least of all when you’re waiting for him.

His mind begins to concoct images of you in bows and sheer material, lips painted, sat waiting, smelling nothing short of heavenly as you call out for—

“Fuck,” he shouts, dropping the garland to the ground.

It had pricked him, stabbed him right in the skin—hand shaking the pain out, face likely all scrunched. And, if it didn't have sentimental value, he's sure he'd have kicked its protesting ass with everything he had. Instead, he just narrows his eyes more than he had done moments ago as he begins again.

He feels his nostrils flare when it begins to undo itself. The sound of faux bristles on wood grates him before it will even attempt to do what he needs it to.

And it makes him want to quit, to throw it back into the box and tell his Pop it isn’t worth it. But he knows it is. Knows that his mama didn’t spend hours bent over under flickering light for it not to be seen.

Javi also strongly suspects you’d love it. Likely run your fingers over several bows asking who made it. He can even imagine the look of joy on your face when he tells you.

It’s why, if he didn’t already suspect it anyway, he’s pretty sure his Pop loves you more than him. Because even the first Christmas he was back, there weren’t this many decorations; not nearly as much need to have them all out, either.

Not that Javi really minds—or blames him.

There’s a notable shift in energy when you stay over. Even more so in him. He can see there’s a cheer and a glow to the place—one Javi hates watching vanish when he takes you back to your place.

It's why, when—and where—he can, he fights for you to be here. Practically finds convincing ways to do so, including, crossword puzzles, dinner, and two-person showers. But, at some stage, your clothing dwindles, underwear runs low, and he has to make the painful drive into town to return you to your place.

Your fingers in his hair, practically clambered into his lap as you whisper that you’ll be back before he knows it. His fingers on your chin, thumb stroking out the words he says right back—that he’ll miss you all the same.

Javier Peña. Texan softie—what will the world think?

He only thinks one thing when he drives back—a response which had been there on his lips. Guess they’ll see just how much I love you. A thing you know, comment on, say back to him first thing in the morning and last thing at night. An array of promises there, sometimes spoken at a normal level and sometimes whispered.

You always keep them, just like the one that you are always back before he knows it.

He likes it when you are. Enjoys it when you’re nestled beside him, arm across his chest, hand close to his ribs—strumming them, tracing lines and words he tries to understand before sleep takes him.

He still always sleeps better when you’re beside him. When his breathing can mirror yours, when he can feel for you in the night when he’s awoken with nightmares and things he knows won’t ever come true.

Now, he’s fighting a different battle. One to get to you.

Halted in his path to freedom by the garland which refused to be hung, and could be labelled as giving him more grief than the horses which had banded together. A phrase he never thought he’d admit out loud, never mind think.

You still fighting with the garland?

baby its torturing me on purpose

Do you want me to come and help?

will you come in the stockings

No!! Your dad is there.

then stay there actually lie down, but do not begin without me

Still need the star putting on the top of the tree.

ive got other plans for you

Because I’m the star?

yeah you're my star and youre not going anywhere but on your back

Hurry then.

i’m hurrying

He does hurry—practically scratched up by the time he’s parking his truck outside your place.

As he takes the step up to your door, Javi realises how much he misses it here when he doesn’t visit. A place less frequent and often spent time in, even under your insistence of renting it.

It is always usually a stopping point, him parking up, letting you go in and grab what you need before you're back in his truck, heading back to his.

He does like your place though, likes how small it is, how cosy. Plus, it has all the things which make you, you. A thing his place is currently missing.

Although, as he steps through the door, and calls your name, he does have to admit it currently looks fucking ridiculous.

On a good day, he’d describe your place as crowded, but right now, it’s claustrophobic.

The tree you’d forced him to get is shoved into a corner, branches fluffed out, surrounded by the piles of unpacked boxes you’ve tried to discreetly hide. Your remaining floorspace is overtaken by a bit of rug, several piles of books (you have no room for, but continue to buy) and odd bits of furniture you find and attempt to restore.

For the most part, you’ve decorated. A thing you did inform him of.

You’ll be pleased to know when you get here your only job is the star. managed it all yourself, did you I’m a very competent woman, Javi. oh i know baby ive seen you with a crossword Does that do it for you? Me finishing a crossword. does something to me Get over here. im leaving now

There’s a warm, comforting glow spread out across the place from the fairy lights you’ve hung and the array of mismatched decorations—both bought and handmade—hanging from branches.

He breathes in the scent of orange which hangs in the air, his eyes finding the culprit on your fireplace, a garland—one not dissimilar to the one he’d been battled with—places there, mocking him due to the ease of which had been laid, with oranges and little beads all entwined within it.

Snorting, he glances back at your tree, spotting the things he's been with you when you've bought. And, as promised—and informed him through text—there’s nothing at the top of your tree.

“You finally made it!”

Spinning on his heel, he comes face to face with you, and fuck if the sight of you doesn’t make it all worth it.

Dressed in a red, silky dressing gown, all tied in the middle, you're a vision. Then, there's the fact your lips are painted a shade he’d now famously dub Christmas red, a colour he wants nothing more than to be stained with. A path of it from his mouth down to the space where his jeans meet his hips. A thought which seems to only make how tight his jeans are even more uncomfortable.

“Cariño, you’re…”

You sway a little, letting the fabric move—allowing his gaze to land on the stockings. The ones he’s been thinking about all afternoon. The ones he can’t wait to feel under his palm and know whether they’ll create friction when wrapped around his waist.

“Fuck me.”

“I’m kinda banking on it,” you say, biting your red-painted lip. “But first…”

His hand crawls around your waist, feeling the smooth, soft texture under his hand—swallowing, dragging his eyes up and down you, unsure how he could ever be so lucky—how something so good could ever be here for him to unwrap.

“I need you to hang the star,” you continue.

“Right now?”

Nodding, you ghost your lips over his. “I’ve been so good waiting for you.”

“You're never good. You, baby, are a menace.”

“I’m your menace.”

Snorting, he presses a kiss to your lips. “Damn right, you are.”

Moving from you, reluctantly, only to pick up the gold star he assumes you want to hang, getting a nod from you that he’s right.

“Need to ask you something too.”

And even though he’s only taken a mere short step from you, he’s floored all over again about what a picture you look like when he glances back. That you’re standing all for him, dressed in nothing but cheer and ribbons all for him.

“Go on.”

Turning to your tree, he flattens his hand to the wall for stability. “I wanted…”

His concentration slides in—suddenly aware he doesn’t want to knock anything from the branches. Doesn’t want to force things to be misplaced from where they were expertly hung.

He’s also sure he’s wanting to swallow the question. A part of him, all the way deep inside of him, having been bracing—and waiting—to hear you’d be apart for the holidays. A thing the two of you have rarely been since you moved here, not a day going by he hasn’t seen you for at least an hour.

“Wanted to know if you—shit—” the star almost sitting atop, before at the last minute protesting. “I wanted to know if you wanted to spend Christmas with me—with us, me and Pop. At the ranch.”

The star slides into place, sitting more comfortably with another shove, more branch supporting it.

But he doesn’t turn, not immediately. Not as the question hums around him, swirls in the silence of you not immediately saying yes. So much so, that it takes him a second to move on his heels, to face you—to read the answer before it’s delivered.

What he sees is something his heart couldn’t have ever prepared for.

You, grinning—a silly, almost goofy, smile spreading out as you bite down on your lip, forehead slightly crinkled.

“You… you want me to spend the holidays with you?”

“Of course—cariño, I want nothing more than for you to be with me.”

It all quick to leave his mouth, mirroring the movement to be back in front of you, fingers under your chin, lifting your eyes—those beautiful, fucking eyes—to his.

“Do… do you—wanna spend it with me?”

You pull a different face before you’re nodding. One more excited, one which begins to expel out over a smile and a bunch of escaping phrases such as I can’t believe you want me with you and of course.

“Why wouldn’t I want to be with you?”

Shrugging, you scrunch your nose—an act he finds just as cute as the first time he saw it. “Guess it’s a big deal. It’s… a thing people do with families.”

Pulling you close by your hips, your hand lands flat on his chest. “You are my family.”

“Javi,” you whisper, making each letter feel so individual the way you say it, that it makes his heart double.

“It’s true. You’re it for me, cariño. All I’ve wished for.”

Eyes widening, your eyes shimmer under the lights—more so than normal. Taking a deep breath, you lift your chin before pressing a kiss to his mouth. One which turns hungry, desperate—your mouth searing, a thing he’s craved since he woke up before the sun even rose.

“Baby,” you whisper.

And he hums.

It vibrates out, able to feel it from the way his fingers cup your cheek.

“Undo me.”

Releasing your lips with a pop, he opens his eyes, studying your eyes, moving from one to the other.

“Go on,” you urge in a whisper, more breathless, more tinged with something that makes his skin hot.

Sliding his fingers over the knot, he barely has to tug before it comes undone—unveiling you, like a curtain which wishes to part. If he’d thought you’d looked good before, he’s sure every bit of you is a sin now—a Christmas sin.

Red and lace. It’s all he sees. It sitting there, against you, hugging your breasts—sitting on your hips. His mouth is suddenly dry at the thought of running his tongue over the place it meets your skin before pulling it down.

Your fingers follow his eyes, sliding between the valley to land on the bow in the centre, twisting the edge of the tie around your index finger—palm skating over your stomach, allowing him more chance to take in how you’re stood before him in see-through fabric and promises.

“How’d I get so lucky?” he asks, more to no one, than to you.

His fingers teasing the fabric sat on your hip—marvelling, unsure how to think straight until you clear your throat, forcing his eyes to meet yours.

“Hey,” you whisper, tightening your hold on his hands, bringing his arms more around your waist, pressing your front to him, feeling the heat from your skin through your clothes. “You’re all I wished for too.”

Smiling, he looks at your tree, before landing back on you. “You look so good.”

“I know. Could look better though?” His brow arches as you slowly begin to smile, the tip of your tongue sliding over your upper lip. “Everything is held in place by bows.”

Groaning, he closes his eyes, letting his hand slide down your lower back, over sheer material before his fingers find the ribbon on your hip.

“All for you.”

“Mine,” he answers, slotting his mouth over yours—staining the four letters to your lips.

His fingers slide around, brushing over soft skin, until he finds the first bow. Undoing it with ease, licking into your mouth, only to grunt against you when you whimper as the fabric falls to your feet.

“Yours,” you say back, your own hands beginning to undo him.

an: merry christmas, love you

#javier peña x f!reader #javier peña x reader #javier peña #javier peña narcos #javi peña x reader #javi peña x you #javi pena #javier peña x you #narcos x reader #javier pena x reader #javier pena x you #javi pena x reader #narcos javier x reader #narcos javier #pedro pascal x reader #narcos fanfiction

[l3viat8an]

Nsfw content MDNI

All I have to say is I really wanna fuck the old man Solomon rn- CW: probably typos I’m sorry and dyslexic, afab reader wearing a dress, semi-public hall sex :)

“Bored?” You ask sliding into the seat next to Solomon and finally resting your feet in between dances at the seemingly never ending party. “No. I can just think of something else I’d rather be doing.” Solomon answers a bit mischief in his eyes, you raise an eyebrow “Oh? What?” “You.” Solomon winks and you roll your eyes. “Very smooth, Solo.” “Come on, sneak away with me for some fun~?” “You’re incorrigible.” you smile and Solomon grabs your hand, moving to stand and pulling you with him down one of them empty side halls.

Your back hitting the cool stone wall behind you, when Solomon decide you’re far enough away from the party, hands tugging clothes out of the way as his lips meet yours and you both let out soft moans. Deepening the kiss as Solomon undoes his belt, his hands quickly moving to bunch your dress around your hips.

Two finger quickly and a little rougher than normal move to work you open, “Solomon…just fuck me already.” you whine and the sorcerer only chuckles, removing his fingers and licking them clean before him kisses you again.

Swallowing your moans as he bottoms out inside of you, Solomon groaned as his thrust got rougher, calloused fingers touching every inch of skin he can reach as his hips collided with yours aggressively, the soft noise of clothes moving and sex slightly muffled but still bouncing off the walls-

“My sweet little star, taking my cock so well.”

Solomon groaned out his thrusts, getting messier by the second as he chased his high.

You have to bite your bottom lip so you don’t cried out at the force, jointing against the wall with every thrust he gave, nails dragging into his shoulders, as you clinged onto him for dear life.

“Can I come inside of you, love?…please can I”

Solomon practically begged as his eyes locked with yours, searching for any type of objection, but instead he was met with small whines as you get lost in the feeling of pleasure running through you. Of his lips pressed against yours as he tries to muffle his own moans.

Breaking the kiss you, nod, “Please come in me, Solo, please” you whine, pleasure clouding your mind as the tight knot in your stomach threatened to snap at any moment.

“Then come with me my little star, come all over my cock.” Solomon groaned as he leaned down, teeth sinking into your shoulder as he spilled himself inside of you. The warm feeling of his cum coating your insides triggering your own orgasm as you clamp down around his cock and almost go limp in his arms.

“You did so well, Love,” Solomon kisses your forehead and helps you regain your footing as he pulls out.

Tucking himself away and moving to fix your dress, just as foot steps can be heard approaching you.

You and Solomon share an ‘Oh shit!’ look before a familiar pink head of hair pops into view from around the corner, “Oh, thank god.” you sigh and Solomon laughs.

“Thank who?” Asmo asks a grin of his face, “What are you doing here Asmo?” Solomon makes a point to glare at the demon for almost interrupting.

“I came because, I could feel you two were having fun without me!” Asmo pouts, crossing his arms and looking hurt. You laugh again and Asmo only pouts some more, “Tell you what. After the party‘s over we can all head over to Solomon’s room and have some real fun~” “My room?” “Yup.” Asmo grins like the cat that got the cream lol and loops one of his arms in yours and the other in Solomon’s “Back to the party it is! Then a private after party later~” all three of you let out a little laugh as you walk back.

Albeit you’re still a bit wobbly ❥(^_-)

(actually wrote this last night while my aunt talked about her newest ex husband but fell asleep before I could post it lmaodhskhsjs)

#also I’m not beck yet I just don’t want this sitting in my notes forever (cuz I’ll forget about it 💀) #notes app** #roro writes #obey me! #obey me #obmswd #om! #obey me smut #obmswd smut #om! smut #obey me solomon x reader #obey me solomon #obey me x reader #obey me solomon smut #obmswd solomon #obmswd x reader #obmswd x chubby reader #obey me x chubby reader #obey me solomon x chubby reader #om! solomon #om! x chubby reader #om! x reader #obmswd x poly reader #obey me asmo x reader #obey me asmo x chubby reader #obey me asmodeus

[anthurak]

One thing that always feels so funny for me when it comes to the Rosebird Parents Theory isn’t when people simply disagree with the theory, but rather people apparently seeing the prospect of a ‘Raven is Ruby’s real father’ reveal to be this totally unthinkable thing and how could anyone ever think this could happen?!

Because once you get past the whole ‘two ladies making a baby’ hurtle, Raven being Ruby’s dad really fits into so many well-known fantasy/sci-fi tropes. Many of which RWBY notably has not done yet, or have already been tied to Raven herself.

I mean, the mysterious villainous and/or anti-heroic loner with ties to the family pulling an ‘I am your Father’ reveal on the protagonist? That’s a fucking CLASSIC. Hell, let’s consider a few things about Raven:

Big, intimidating helmet.

Clear Samurai inspiration.

Wields a katana-like sword that technically has an energy blade (dust=energy) which is generally RED-colored.

Possesses mysterious and terrible over-worldly powers.

Has a mysterious past tied to our protagonist’(s) family.

Was probably in love with our protagonist’s (apparently) dead mother.

Yeah I’d say Raven makes for a pretty good Darth Vader-expy.*

Beyond that specific case, we’ve already seen the story connect Raven to a BUNCH of ‘mysterious and angsty deadbeat dad who left their kid for unclear reasons’ tropes when it comes to Yang. Why not have those apply to Ruby as well? People have been clamoring for years about wanting to see Summer’s narrative dynamic with Yang explored as much as the one she has with Ruby, so why not have the reverse be true with Raven and Ruby as well?

After all, it seems that the story has now given Ruby a reason to seek Raven for answers just as Yang once did.

And as I’ve noted in previous Rosebird Parents posts, No I don’t believe Raven also being Ruby’s deadbeat dad would be somehow ‘redundant’. Particularly because the context is completely different: Yang has known that Raven is her birth-mother for most of her life, whereas Ruby would only just now be finding out that Raven is her birth-father. Far from being redundant, this would allow the story to explore two very different responses of kids to an absent parent: One who has had to live with the knowledge of that absent parent for years, and one who hasn’t and has to deal with this NEW information suddenly getting dropped on her.

Plus, as I alluded to earlier, it’s rather notable that RWBY hasn’t done some big ‘dramatic parent reveal’, given how much of a staple it is to the genre. And given how reimagining, twisting and flipping classic and well-worn fairytale/folklore/fantasy tropes (often via playing with gender-roles) is basically RWBY’s bread and butter at this point, I’d say giving the series heroine an ‘I am your father’ reveal from a woman would fit PERFECTLY in this series.

And if you’re going to ask ‘but how do two ladies make baby?!?’,

Raven can be intersex. Boom. Done.

Alternatively, magic.

As an aside, yes Summer being trans is a perfectly viable alternative. I just think logistically speaking, Raven being intersex and being Ruby’s ‘father’ makes a dramatic reveal a bit more streamlined. Also, the idea of Raven managing to be BOTH a deadbeat mom AND a deadbeat dad is just too funny XD

*Of course, this comparison gets even more fun when we consider Summer having her own Vader-parallels, ie; Summer almost certainly being taken by Salem and given what we can probably assume to be a Vader-esque makeover via grimm-hybridization in setup for a big reveal. So when we combine this with Raven, I think we can view what happened on their last mission as ‘What if Padme/Obi-wan got turned into Vader INSTEAD of Anakin?’ Like Raven in the present is basically Anakin doing Obi-wan’s traumatized hermit shtick, except all angry and edgy because it’s still Anakin.

#rwby #rwby theory #Raven Branwen #Ruby Rose #Summer Rose #rosebird #rosebird parents #rosebird parents theory #star wars references #guess who's back on their bullshit? XD

[trungles]

Processing Process, and More Processing

I made this post free and publicly readable on Patreon, but I'm reposting the whole thing right here too because, well, it's a free post, and I don't want to make you click away from your dashboard if you don't need to. But also if you want to support my work, here's the link to the post.

It's a little bit about cartooning, a little bit about drawing, and then it turns into a eulogy for a chicken.

I wrote “process” more than once, and now the word looks funny and is beginning to lose its meaning to me.

This post is about a few things, and it’s a little bit on the sad end of things. Nothing dire! No worries. There’s just a little mention of death, just as a heads up.

Before we get to that, though, I’ve been doing some work and had some thoughts.

I’m often asked about how I draw the noodle hair on my characters, and the answer is typically that I draw each and every line with my hand. But there are considerations of movement and volume that go into it beyond its texturally decorative purposes. I love being able to convey shape and motion with it. It’s less evident, I think, in my illustration work, but I think it’s much more obvious when I do sequential work. In the above image, you can see me working out a sequence of Angelica having a series of thoughts. Her head sort of moves, and her eyes follow. You can see I’d planned out the general shape of the hair and how I’d like it to move.

I wound up moving the drawings a little bit so that the readers eyes will actually follow the character’s eyes as it moves gently rightward on the page. The hair is there to accentuate the movement, like so:

It’s a consideration I employ in all my drawings, but especially when I’m drawing hair and fabric. I don’t use a lot of action lines, so this becomes an important way to give the reader the information that someone is moving through a space. Resistance, gravity, and motion are all things I have to keep in the back of my head when I’m doing these little drawings. I think the planning actually takes more time than the inking, which can happen pretty quickly once I map it all out.

In other news, I’m starting to take my extracurricular artistic development a little more seriously in the silliest way possible.

You wouldn’t know it, but I studied painting college—a medium I switched to after the printmaking professor and head of the Art Department at the time told me I probably shouldn’t be an artist (he gave me a hard candy for my trouble). I recently bought a bunch of little dolls, dressed them up, and am returning to my painting roots. It feels really nice to work in big blobs of color instead of lines. It’s an exercise I came up with in response to a common lament from art students.

One of the more aggravating generational tensions described to me by art school students is when professors describe a student’s portfolio as “too anime” without much explanation. I know what the professor means. They’re trying to get at how referencing your favorite anime or cartoons means that your style becomes a simulacrum, an imperfect copy of a copy, and you never learn to develop your own sense of judgment about where a line or a shape needs to go. And we can tell. It’s a way of working that is perfectly fine for cartooning because cartooning is closer to hand-writing than it is to drawing. I always turn to Charles Schulz’s work for an example. Those figures aren’t literally depicting children—with their little chessboard-pawn proportions and bread-loaf feet—but we read them as endearing children because we’ve come to a consensus between us, the readers, and Charles Schulz, the author, that those shapes mean those things. There are no whiskers or paws in the shape of the word “CAT” but you look at those three letters together, and you know the thing to which it refers. That’s an aspect of cartooning, too. Of course, what elevates it from mere writing is, in part, due to the fact that those little figures do not lose their meaning the more you depict them.

To really draw well, though, you have to do those fundamentals. You have to draw from life. There’s no way around it. It helps you develop a stronger sense of where you like to lay down your lines and shapes, no matter how stylized you like to work. It grows your judgment, and every artist’s best tool is their own well-honed sense of artistic discernment about their own work.

But that doesn’t mean you have to surrender the stuff you like or the things that inspire you to make art! I tell students that if they want to hold fast to their anime style AND hone their fundamentals to develop their eye as an artist, they should buy little figurines and toys of their favorite characters, prop those up against a light source, and draw them as still life objects. Like, yes, do the vases and the figure drawings and all those, I still think those are important. But if this is what you need to keep you interested in drawing from life, having some toys around is a great way to do it! Also, bless those sculptors and toy designers. They’re the best.

I think there’s something to be said about remembering to imagine the physicality of the things we draw, in all its dimensions and in the way it catches the light or casts a shadow. It helps sentimentalize things, too. Makes them feel more real, even emotionally.

Edwina died on Tuesday night, after a few final snuggles, surrounded by her favorite treats. She was about five years old, which is old for a chicken, and she had a very comfortable life. We buried her this morning. She was a good hen, J’s personal favorite.

It really feels like the end of an era. She was the last surviving member of our very first flock. After the other hens died, she really seemed to prefer the company of people over other hens. She is survived by Snooki and Nelly, our two other young birds who get along quite well together, actually.

A baby chick costs between three and five American dollars, typically. An egg-laying hen could be between twenty and fifty bucks, depending on the breed. There are roughly 26 billion chickens living in the world today, about 518 million of them here in the United States. They come pretty cheap. And a part of me was moved to cynicism, entertaining the thought that it might be strange to feel sadly over a little animal that, at most, might be roughly equivalent to the price of a fancy lunch and a coffee.

I watched the 1974 musical version of The Little Prince recently, and I remember it mostly because Bob Fosse was in it and scared the crap out of me as a kid—he played the snake that would take the Little Prince back into the sky when his body gets too heavy to take with him. Gene Wilder plays the Fox whom the Little Prince befriends and tames among a garden of roses. The Fox explains that he is like any other fox in the world, but he is changed—made special and particular to the Little Prince—with time, effort, and patience. So, too, is the Prince’s little flower special to him. Out of all the flowers in the universe, she was the one he watered and protected under a little glass jar. And that’s enough.

I knew my little hen would not live that long. It could be very easy to take a broad view of the life expectancy of a hen and distance myself from it by virtue of its mortality and its commonness. People who raise livestock do it all the time. But I also think it’s wonderful that we should all be capable of loving very small, very brief little things. Edwina is not, to my mind, the rough equivalent of a fancy lunch and a coffee. She was our little hen. For her whole life, she was ours. And I’m so happy she was here.

#cartooning #drawing #patreon #cw death #cw pet death #comics #trungles #artists on tumblr

[derinthescarletpescatarian]

hi derin! i’ve been following you for a little while, and also bemoaning the nature of publishing fiction (indie or trad) for a little bit longer than that, and i only just realized today that…of course web serials are a thing i can also do!

i really love the idea of publishing serially (though i’m not totally sure i CAN, i’d like to try), so while i add this to my list of potential paths, do you have any advice for getting started? building an audience? marketing? figuring out if writing/publishing this way will work for you to begin with?

i know that’s a lot of questions, and you don’t have to answer all of them! i’m throwing spaghetti at a wall out here. i hope you have a good day though, and thanks in advance!

Getting started in web serial writing

Web serial writing has the lowest barrier of entry of any major method of publishing your story. You can literally just start. There are two steps:

start writing your story

decide how/where you want to publish it

The writing part, I assume you have handled. The important thing to note here is that you gotta see the project through. Start and don't stop until you're done. For publishing, you have a few options:

1. Publish on a website designed for web serial novels

There are a few of these around, they're usually free to publish on (although most offer a paid account to give you ad space or boost you int he algorithm or whatever), and your best choice generally depends on which one happens to gravitate to a niche that best suits your kind of work. The big names in this industry are Royal Road and Scribblehub, which, last I checked up on them (about a year ago) tended towards isekai and light erotica respectively. (You absolutely can publish outside these niches on these sites, it's just much harder to get traction.) Publishing somewhere like this comes with multiple advantages. Firstly, there's a writing community right there to talk to; there's usually a forum or something where people gather to talk about reading or writing on the site. Second, the site itself is designed specifically to publish web serials, and will come with a good layout and hit trackers and 'where you left off' buttons for the reader and all that; generally all you have to do is copy-paste the text of a chapter into the page and the site will do everything else for you. Third, there's an audience sitting right there, browsing the 'latest arrivals' or 'most popular' page of the site; if you can get high in the algorithm, you have to do little if any marketing.

The downsides of such places usually come down to the same things as the advantages. Such sites are a flooded market. Your story absolutely will drown in a sea of other stories, a great many of them terrible, and most of them with the advantage of catering to the site's niche. Gaining an audience there is often a matter of trying to game an algorithm, and the community can be... variable. Some of these places are nice but most of them are a bunch of authors trying to tear down everyone around them to make their own work look better by comparison int he hopes of poaching audiences for their story instead. If you go this route, I'd recommend shopping around for a site that fits you personality and writing style (or just posting on many sites at once; you can also do that).

These places also tend to get targeted by scrapers who will steal your story and sell it as an ebook, which is very annoying.

2. publish on another site

Plenty of people publish web serials here on Tumblr. I do not know why. This site is TERRIBLY set up for that. It makes tracking stories and updates a pain in the arse (people end up having to *manually tag every reader whenever they post an update*), building and maintaining archives are annoying, community building is surprisingly difficult for a social media site, and it's just generally far more work for both writer and reader than it needs to be. You often do have a ready-made audience, though.

This does tend to work better on other sites. Reddit has multiple communities for reading and writing various types of fiction; publishing on these is a bit more work than somewhere like Royal Road, but not very much, and many of these communities are very active. There aren't as many forums around as there used to be, but you might be able to find fiction hosting forums, if that's what you prefer. And of course, many writers who simply want to write and don't mind not being paid choose to write on AO3.

These sites are a good middle ground compromise for people who want a ready-made community and don't mind putting in a bit of extra work.

3. make your own site

This is what I did. You can make a website for free, giving people a hub to find you and all your work, designed however you like. You can also pay for a website if you want it to be a little bit nicer. This option is the most work, but gives you the most control and leaves you free of having to worry about any algorithm.

The obvious downside of this is that there's no community there. If you host your work on your own website, you need to bring people to it. You need to build an audience on your own. This is not an easy thing to do.

Building an audience (general advice)

Here is some general advice about building an audience:

1. Consistency. Consistency. Consistency.

If you want people to read your writing, the best piece of advice I can possibly give you is have an update schedule and update on time, always. If you need to take a break, give people as much warning as possible and tell them exactly when you will be back, and come back then. Do not take unnecessary breaks because you don't feel like writing. (Do take breaks if you get carpal tunnel or need time off for a major life event or something -- your health is more important than the story.) If you're taking a lot of breaks to avoid burnout, you're doing it wrong -- you need to rework your whole schedule from the start and slow down updates to make these breaks unnecessary. Two chapters a month with no breaks is a billion times better than four chapters a month with frequent burnout breaks.

Consistency. Consistency. Consistency.

A reliable schedule is the #1 factor in audience retention. If readers need to randomly check in or wait for notifications from you to check if there's an update, guess what? Most of them won't! They'll read something else. You want your audience to be able to anticipate each release and fit it in their own schedule. I cannot overstate the importance of this.

2. If you can, try to make your story good.

We writers would love to live in a world where this is the most important thing, but it actually isn't. Plenty of people out there are perfectly happy to read hot garbage. How do I define 'hot garbage'? It doesn't matter. Think of what you would consider to be just a terrible, no-effort, pointless garbage story that the world would be better off without. Someone is out there writing that right now, making US$2,500/month on Patreon.

It is, however, a real advantage if you can make your story good. At the very least, it should be worth your audience's time. Preferably, it should also be worth their money, and make them enthusiastic enough to try to get their friends into it. Managing this is massively advantageous.

3. Accept that you're not going to get a big audience for a really long time. Write consistently and update on schedule every time anyway.

It took me over a year to get my second patron. For the first year, I updated Curse Words every single week, on schedule, for over a year, and had maybe... four readers. One of them was a regular commenter. One of them was my first patron. There was no one else.

My audience has grown pretty rapidly, for this industry.

You're not gonna start publishing chapters for a big, vibrant community. You're just not. And you have to keep going anyway. These days, I have a pretty good readership, and those couple of loyal readers (who I appreciate beyond words) have grown into a much larger community, who hang out and debate theories with each other and liveblog and drag in new readers and make fanart. My discord has over 550 members, with volunteer moderators and regular fan artists and its own little in-jokes and games and readers who make a point of welcoming newcomers and helping them navigate the discord, all with very little input from me. I start crying when I think about these people, who do the bulk of my social and marketing work for me just because they want to help, and my patrons who, after writing for over 4.5 years, have recently helped me pass an important threshold -- my web serial (via patreon) now pays my mortgage repayments. I can't live off my writing alone, but boy is that a massive fucking step.

You're not gonna have that when you start. You're gonna have a couple of friends. And that's it. Maybe for a year. Maybe less, if you're good at marketing and lucky. Maybe longer.

You have to update on schedule, every time, anyway.

Building an audience (more specific advice)

"Yeah, that's great, Derin, but where can I find my fucking audience?" Well, if you publish on a web serial site, then the audience is there and you jsut need to grab their affention using the tools and social norms offered to you by the site. I utterly failed at this and cannot help you there. You can still use these other tips to bring in readers from off-site.

1. Paid ads

I've never paid for ads so I can't offer advice on how to do it. I've Blazed a couple of posts on Tumblr; they weren't helpful. This is, however, an option for you.

2. Actually tell people that your story exists and where they can find it.

I used to have a lot of trouble with this. I didn't want to bother people on Tumblr and soforth by telling them about my personal project. Unfortunately you kind of have to just get over that. Now I figure that if people don't want TTOU spam, they can just unfollow me. If you're like me and want to just politely keep your story to yourself... don't. You're shooting yourself in the foot doing that.

You need to mention your story. Link your story in your bio on whatever social media sites you use. Put it in your banner on forums. Make posts and memes about it. Eventually, if you're lucky, extremely valuable readers will start to talk about your story and meme and fanart it for you, but first, you need to let them know it exists.

It will always feel weird to do this. Just accept that people can unfollow you if they want, and do it anyway.

3. Leverage existing audiences and communities

Before I started doing this web serial thing, I used to write a lot of fanfic. The original audience that trickled in for Curse Words comes from AO3, where I was doing a full series rationalist rewrite of Animorphs. They knew how I wrote and wanted more of it. Nowadays, I still occasionally pull in readers through this route. Most of my new readers these days come from a different community -- people who follow me on Tumblr. Occasionally I bring in people who don't follow me because we'll be talking about how one of my stories relates to something different, and fans of that thing might decide they want to check my stories out.

Your first readers will come from communities that you're already in and that are already interested in something similar to what you're doing (people reading my fanfic on AO3 were already there for my writing, for instance). Keep these people in mind when you start out.

One additional critical source of existing communities is your readers themselves. A huge number of my readers are people I've never been in any group with -- they were pulled in by their friends, relatives, or community members who were reading my stories and wanted them to read them too. This is an absolutely invaluable source of 'advertising' and it is critically important to look after these people. enthusiastic readers, word-of-mouth advertisers, and fan artists are the people who will bring in those outside your immediate bubble.

4. Your "where to find me" hub

If you're publishing on your own website, you can simply link everything else to your homepage, and put all relevant links there. For example, I can link people to derinstories.com , which links out to all my stories, social media I want people to find me on (you don't have to link all your social media), patreon, discord, et cetera. If you don't have your own website, you're going to have to create a hub like this in the bios of every site where you garner audiences from. This is the main advantage of publishing on your own website.

Monetisation

There are a few different kinds of monetisation for web serials, but most of them boil down to 'use a web serial format to market your ebook', which to be honest I find pretty shady. These authors will start a web serial, put in enough to hook an audience for free, and then stop posting and release an ebook, with the intention of making readers pay for the ending. Now, to be clear, I am absolutely not against publishing and selling your web serial -- I'm doing exactly that, with Curse Words. I am against intentionally and knowingly setting up the start of a web serial as a 'demo' without telling your audience that that is what you are doing, soliciting Patreon money for it, and then later yanking it away unfinished and demanding money for the ending.

Monetisation of these sorts of stories is really just monetisation for normal indie publishing with the web serial acting as an ad, and I have no advice for how to do that successfully.

Your options of monetisation for a web serial as a web serial are a bit more limited. They essentially come down to merchandise (including ebooks or print books) or ongoing support (patreon, ko-fi, etc.) Of these, the only one I have experience with is the patreon model.

This model of monetisation involves setting up an account with a regular-donation site such as patreon, providing the base story for free, and providing bonuses to patrons. You can offer all kinds of bonuses for patrons. Many patrons don't actually care what the bonus is, they're donating to support you so that you can keep writing the story, but they still like to receive something. But some patrons do donate specifically for the bonuses, so it's worth choosing them with care.

The most common and most effective bonus for web serials is advance chapters -- if people are giving you money, give them the chapters early. You can also offer various bonus materials, merchandise, or voting rights on decisions you need to make in the future. 'Get your character put in the story' is a popular high-tier reward. If you're looking for reward ideas, you can see the ones I use on my patreon.

Patreon used to offer the ability to set donation goals, where you could offer something when you were making a certain amount total or had a certain number of subscribers. They recently removed this feature because Patreon hates me personally and doesn't want me to be happy, so you kind of have to advertise it yourself now if you want to use these goals. I release chapters of unrelated stories at donation goals, and I found this to be far more effective than I thought it would be.

The important factor for this kind of monetisation is that it's ongoing. The main advantage of this is that it makes your income far more regular and predictable than normal indie publishing -- your pledges will go up or down over a month, but not by nearly as much as book sales can. The main thing to keep in mind is that it's not a one-time sale, which means that however you organise things, you want to make sure that donating keeps on being worth it, month after month. Offering bonuses that aren't just one-time bonuses, but things that the patron can experience every month, helps here. So does making sure that you have a good community where patrons can hang out with other patrons. (Offering advance chapters does both of these things -- the patron can stay ahead in the story and discuss stuff with other patrons that non-patrons haven't seen. I've found that a lot of my patrons enjoy reading an emotionally devastating chapter ahead of time, discussing it, and then all gathering a week or two later to watch the unsuspecting non-patrons experience it for the first time.)

Whatever method you use for monetisation, rule #1 is (in the words of Moist Von Lipwig): always make it easy for people to give you money. The process of finding out how to give you money should be easy, as should the process of actually doing it. And, most importantly, the spender should feel like it's worth it to give you money. This is a big part of making it easy to give you money. Make your story worth it, make your bonuses worth it, make sure that they're happy to be part of your community and that they enjoy reading and supporting you. And remember that support comes in many forms -- the fan artist, the word-of-mouth enthuser, the person who makes your social hub a great place to be, the patron, all of these people are vital components in the life support system that keeps your story going. And you're going to have to find them, give them a story, and build them a community, word by word and brick by brick.

It's a long process.

Good luck.

.

#web serials #web serial novels #writing #advice

[hollandorks]

haven

battinson! bruce wayne x f! reader

chapter ten

Summary: After the sudden deaths of your mother and grandmother, you’re forced to return home to Gotham…and to the man who broke your heart three years ago. Back in Bruce Wayne’s inescapable orbit, you vow to get to the bottom of your former best friend’s new cold personality. But Bruce’s secrets aren’t what you’re expecting. a

a/n: I think this is the longest I've gone without posting a chapter...it's only been like a week though, so not too bad! I also have the entire next week off and hope to get a bunch of writing done so I can keep posting frequently!

Series Masterlist

word count: 2.6k

For the first time, she wanted to kiss someone who wasn’t Bruce, and the thought didn’t make her ache.

“I can hear you biting your tongue over there,” Batman said in a low murmur a couple of hours into their stakeout. They’d been taking pictures of every person coming in and out of the bar, even if they obviously weren’t the fourth murder suspect. Y/n had wonder, over and over again, if she would even recognize the guy. 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she said primly as she snapped another picture. She was seated against a low wall, just her head and camera poking above the edge. It helped with the vertigo-inducing fear. Batman was standing beside her, staring down. Was he was uncomfortable, standing for so long? “I’m just taking pictures.” But she had been biting her tongue–every few minutes she wanted to ask another personal question and had to swallow it down. 

“Taking pictures and trying not to ask who I am,” he said. She smiled where he couldn’t see it and took another picture. 

“I made a promise to Gordon not to pry,” she finally admitted. 

“Ah.” He lapsed into silence again. 

They had spoken briefly in the past few hours, but not much. Mostly it was him quietly suggesting the best angle for the pictures, helping her find a spot that didn’t make her sick with fear from being up high, or asking for a turn with the camera. 

“So…watch any good movies lately?” she asked after a few minutes of silence. No one had entered or left the pub in a few minutes and the music was more of a vague vibration now that the door was shut. 

“I doubt that will be a good clue.” She couldn’t tell if he was kidding or not. 

“It’s just a question. If I was trying to figure out who you were, I’d do something to trip you up, take you off guard.” She took another picture, this time of a woman leaving the pub.

“No, I haven’t seen any good movies lately,” he said. When she turned to look at him he was turning away from her–but, there, the edge of a smile. 

“Do you have any hobbies? Or is this pretty much it?” She was burning with curiosity. Hell, she didn’t even have to get any clues about who he was. She was just as curious about him as a person. What he liked to do, why he started dressing as a bat, if he liked or disliked the same things she did. 

In the corner of her eye she saw him shrug. It was an odd gesture from a man in a mask and cape. “I sleep a lot during the day, when I can.” 

“That’s…not really a hobby.” She snorted softly. “Do you have a day job?” she asked, then, “Sorry. Nevermind.” 

A low chuckle but no answer. 

“Okay, new question,” she asked, the camera shutter suddenly too loud in the night air as the pub door closed once more. “Why did you start doing…this? I mean, Gotham’s a shithole, obviously, but…is that the only reason?” Gotham being a shithole was an understatement. It was frequently rated the top with murders per capita, or robberies, or drugs…Gotham had always been a shithole, worse than any other city in the world. But as far as she knew, it was the first time Gotham had created a vigilante. 

“I guess I just saw too many bad things,” he said after a long pause. “It made me…angry. I was so angry, I wanted to take it out on those who deserved it. One night I witnessed a mugging and beat the shit out of the guy. It felt…good. It made the anger better.” 

“So then you said, hey, wouldn’t a costume be fun?” She laughed and glanced over her shoulder at him. He was watching her but turned away again as soon as their eyes met. His hands flexed at his sides. She was hungry for more, for whatever he would give her. The article didn’t even matter anymore, not at that moment. 

“I needed a disguise, and a way to protect myself. I used to want to make criminals fear me, so I designed this.” He waved a vague hand across his chest to mean the armor. And she had to admit, it was pretty effective. She remembered that night, turning from those who would do her harm to see his hulking shadow, inhuman in the low light. 

Several questions warred for attention at once. She settled on, “Used to?”

“A lot changed last year. Fear isn’t the tool I thought it was.” 

Last year–meaning the Riddler, the flood, Falcone. 

“But you didn’t change the design,” she pointed out. The pub below them was quiet. Too quiet. 

“Why change something that works?” Again, just the edge of a smile. She wondered what it would be like to hear him laugh. To make him laugh. Something about that slight smile was familiar, like a half-remembered dream. 

Y/n shook off the thoughts. They encroached on dangerous territory she wasn’t ready to approach yet. Just like the brief moment she’d imagined kissing him. 

A burst of noise below startled her and she hurried to take more pictures. 

“So you made the uh…armor yourself?” she asked after a moment. Three men below were standing in a semicircle, shoulders taut, breath fogging in the air between them. She zoomed in further and caught each of their faces.

“Yes.” 

She hummed, impressed. “A vigilante who can sew, huh?” 

“S’not that hard,” he mumbled. Like the shrug, the mumble was endearing, at odds as it was with his vigilante getup. 

The three men all went separate directions as their conversation finished. 

“Looks like things are winding down out there,” she said after a moment. She had to bite down more personal questions. 

“We can head back,” he said. “It’s late anyways.” 

She glanced at her phone in surprise. It was after three in the morning. How had the time passed so quickly? And she still felt wide awake, like she could sit there for several more hours. But it was cold and she was surprisingly hungry. Had she even eaten dinner? 

Now that she was paying attention to the sensations, the cold and the hunger doubled. 

She stood and moved away from the edge so she could stretch. Her joints cracked like firecrackers in the night. She took a moment to study Batman, his jaw lined in the light from the neon pub sign below, the rest of him in shadow. 

She sneakily took a picture, the form of him more shadow than anything. She hurried to put the lens cap on before he could notice what she had done. 

He clicked something on his wrist and a grappling hook sprung out. She raised her eyebrows. So that was how they’d gotten to the roof. She then eyeballed his belt, full of pouches. If he had a grappling hook on his wrist, what other gadgets did he keep on his person? She imagined, briefly, digging through all of the pockets like a gleeful child. 

He hooked the device to something on the roof and yanked hard to make sure it was connected securely. Then he looked at her, expectant. 

Right. They had to get off of the roof with that flimsy little hook and cord. She inched away from him. Sweat pooled at the base of her spine. If she fell, it would hurt. Probably not kill her, but they were high enough for it to be bad. She made the mistake of glancing down. She took another step away.

“Isn’t there, um, a fire escape or something?” She looked around nervously. 

“Unfortunately not,” he said and moved even further into her space. His voice dipped. “I won’t let you fall.” 

That promise again. She nodded and closed her eyes tightly. “Fine. Do your worst. But remember, I’m not above coming back as a vengeful spirit.” 

She felt his slight chuckle through his chest as he wrapped his arms around her. “Hold on tight,” he said and his breath tickled her ear. She shivered and this time it wasn’t from fear. She opened her eyes long enough to wrap her own arms around his neck. Would it be too much to wrap her legs around him too? It would probably be weird, she realized, though it would make her feel safer. 

“Here we go,” he said and again a shiver crawled up her spine. “I’ve got you,” he added, and that same sensation swept through her gut with more intensity. 

Her stomach almost flew from her throat despite the forewarning as they dropped over the side of the building. She had no breath to scream and instinctively wrapped her legs around his waist and clung more tightly. 

There was a jolt but her body didn’t realize yet that it was back on solid ground. She peeled her eyes open and realized her nose was pressed to the underside of Batman’s jaw, her entire body wrapped around him like a vine around a tree. She could feel the faint sandpaper scratch of stubble and leaned back. 

“Um,” she said. He was standing very, very still. Finally she managed to untangle herself. She almost fell on her ass as she stumbled back. “Sorry,” she said a bit breathlessly. Her heart was beating too fast–and it wasn’t from the fear of dropping off of a building. 

“Let’s go,” was his only response. 

She cringed at his retreating back. She hadn’t meant to climb him like a tree–and in the least sexy way possible, no less. Her face was hot with embarrassment. 

She was careful not to grab him too tightly as they rode through the city. 

When they pulled into the same alley they left from, he stayed on the bike while she dismounted. 

She handed him the helmet and self consciously smoothed her hair. 

“Thank you,” she said. “I really, really needed to get away from home for a while.” 

“You’re welcome,” he said softly. He still wouldn’t look her in the eyes. She had been noticing it all night, but now she was starting to realize if it was for a reason. Did she make him uncomfortable? Or was it because she was an inconvenience to him? Or maybe he could sense the desperation coming off of her in waves. The loneliness. The craving for love, to be loved. 

“Could we–I mean, tomorrow night, if you’re going back…could I come?” The embarrassment was slimy inside of her, heating her chest and neck and cheeks. She knew it sounded needy, but she didn’t care. “If you aren’t busy, I mean.” 

He met her eyes for the barest second before looking away again. “I’ll text you.” 

She grinned then it faded. “Right,” she said, because it was certainly a lie. He didn’t like to text, and he probably didn’t want her around. She would probably end up calling Gordon or texting Martinez to take her to the all night diner. 

“I’ll watch until you’re inside,” Batman said with a nod towards Wayne Tower. 

She closed her eyes for a second then nodded. “Thanks again,” she said. 

She turned and walked home with a new weight dogging her steps. Wayne Tower used to be a haven for her. But now it was a prison. A prison that kept her safe, sure, but a prison nonetheless. A prison made of grief and pain and desolation. 

It wasn’t until the doors shut behind her that y/n heard the distant roar of a motorcycle start up. 

When the elevator doors slid open upstairs, she almost ran into Alfred. She jumped and stepped back. 

“Alfred,” she said in surprise. Her muscles clenched, fight or flight instincts kicking in automatically. It was like being caught sneaking out in high school all over again. 

“Blake told me you left several hours ago,” Alfred said. He crossed his arms and widened his stance. He’d ditched his cane, too. Another power move. “I was worried.” 

She winced. “Sorry. I, um…was hanging out with Batman, actually.” It sounded like a lie to her own ears. 

Alfred’s surprise was immediate. “...Batman?” 

“Yep. I called Gordon because I was going stir crazy but he and Martinez both worked a double shift. So…Batman took me on a stakeout.” She chewed her lip then shrugged lamely. 

“And…how was that?” Alfred’s tone was odd. Too…tight. Too careful. She eyed him suspiciously. She knew him well enough to know something was off, but couldn’t quite put her finger on it. 

“Fine. He doesn’t talk much.” She slipped out of her jacket. The heat inside the tower felt delicious on her cold skin. She was going to take a very, very long shower with the water as hot as it could go. 

“I see,” Alfred said. He rubbed a hand over his face and his posture relaxed. Hers did, too. She wasn’t in trouble, at least. Then she silently reminded herself she was a grown woman and hadn’t actually been sneaking out. “Well, next time, please let me know. I was worried.” 

His expression softened further and y/n realized all at once that Alfred looked…older. There was more gray in his hair and beard and more wrinkles in the corners of her eyes. For some reason, the realization conjured the memory of her grandmother. The sadness wasn’t a surprise, but that didn’t mean it hurt any less. Alfred was getting older, and she didn’t like how that thought made her feel. 

“I’m sorry,” she said softly and had to blink away tears. “Really. I just–Being here–I can’t just–” 

Alfred reached out and squeezed her arm. He smiled gently, if sadly. “I understand. Too many memories.” 

She nodded, not trusting herself to speak. She couldn’t tell him that it was memories of Bruce that were painful now. That it was being near him, dreaming of him, having to remember one of the worst nights of her life, that drove her away.

“I’ll tell you next time. We might actually go tomorrow night, too. I was taking pictures for him. On the stakeout.” She held up the camera and shook it lightly. “I’m sorry I made you worry.” 

Several emotions flickered across Alfred’s face, too fast for her to decipher. He finally smiled. “Now, that’s something I’ve heard before.” 

She smiled back. As a teen, she was always very sorry when she got caught. Then she’d just do it again. Half the time, she would whine that Bruce had snuck out too, to try and get him into trouble. That rarely worked. 

“I actually mean it this time.” 

Alfred laughed. “Now that’s new.” He squeezed her upper arm one more time. “You should get to bed. It’s late.” 

“What about you?” she asked, because she had definitely noticed Alfred being awake at all hours of the night. He wasn’t even in his pajamas, for god’s sake. He was still in a smart suit sans the jacket, pocket watch chain glimmering in the light of the foyer table. 

“Who’s to say I’m not up early?” He winked. “Goodnight, y/n.” 

She narrowed her eyes, conceding the point. “Goodnight.” 

Somehow, it was easy to fall asleep. Her mind was more at ease than it had been in days. 

She had the same dream that night, only it was the Batman in the bed with her, mask still on, but with his hands bare. They slid up her body, his mouth hot on her neck, the warmth of him seeping through the armor that dug into her back. 

She woke sometime around noon in a cold sweat. 

There was a text from Gordon waiting. 

Stay home tonight. Another woman was shot. 

All of the desire left her body in a rush, leaving a cold fear in its wake. A mixture of guilt and relief roiled within y/n. Another woman was dead because of her. But it also meant that they still hadn’t figured out who she was. It meant she still had some time. 

She closed her eyes as the room began to spin. 

How many more women would die? 

And how much time did that buy her before she was next?

Next Chapter

taglist:

@ktficworld @grunge-n-roses5 @anon-cat-posts @projectdreamwalker @warsaur @lachillona02 @crazyunsexycool @doetic @alexiris @that-girl-named-alex @harry-bowie-mercury @vaniasagitaa @widows-writings @missing-loki @exactlyelegantwizard @miriamnox @mavenmoon @eclipsedplanet

#battinson x reader #bruce wayne x reader #the batman x reader #batman x reader #battinson #the batman #the batman 2022 #bruce wayne #robert pattinson #haven #haven fic

[nightgoodomens]

Asks under cut

Mama Sheen has this thing that she will RT anything with her baby’s face, this is why when she RTed David being announced as the Winner of Critics Choice Awards (nothing to do with Michael) it made me go 🥰🥰🥰

(But good to know she agrees with Michael about Aziraphale’s… position 😭😂)

Ah you’re spot on. It always makes me laugh how bothered they are by what we post, because if they’re so ensured that they’re right - why do they care? I believe in what I write hence their opinions don’t bother me. I do note eg. the way they either excuse or ignore the uncomfortable content (eg. Twitter staying quiet about Neil saying David and Michael are in love, and now pretending the blurry video doesn’t exist) but I’d never seek out their blogs to correct them or worse, hate on them. I’d never be so pathetic as to hate read them or create blogs to go against their blocks - why waste time on such bullshit? I’d never send anon hate. I don’t even answer their hate messages because why waste time and give them the attention they seek? The pathetic begging for attention I’ve received from some of them…

If they’re so ensured of the deep true love between the heterosexual couples, and that there is nothing to analyse and everything is perfect, why don’t they focus on celebrating them instead?

Because it’s a bunch of people who see the same as us and it freaks them out, because it’s not generally acceptable (a problem they created themselves), so their automatic response is becoming defensive, hating, looking for a pat on the back from their fellow muppets. If they believed in what they were saying, they wouldn’t have a need to act insane. Also, it’s a collective need to be liked - and considering they created a hateful environment for anyone who doesn’t think exactly like they do, they basically created their own shitshow which they’re now stuck in.

They chose a sad pathetic way to spend their time online, but it’s not our problem.

#NightGoodOmens talks PR

[sapphicseasapphire]

I’m wondering if any of the chain members have any dietary restrictions and if so how do they deal with food while travelling I’d imagine some wouldn’t exactly need to eat ( wars, wild and time) but also most of the other might need to have different diets then the typical hylian. ( honestly only twilight and maybe four might be the only with a more typical diet)

This is a great question, and one that I’ve thought about at length. Sorry I took so long to respond, I’m so incredibly busy with my classes! I hope this answer is sufficient haha! (Under the cut because long)

Wild: Surprisingly, he does need to eat! Just, not for the reasons that you or I do. Wild does not feel hungry. His body does not consume energy (it’s not… physical, really). But his magic is based in the natural world, so if he’s hurt, he must strengthen bonds to nature. The easiest way to do this is to ingest things that come from nature. So like… any food ever. He gets hurt a lot (the little chaos gremlin) so he tends to eat a lot! And he may be a silly little guy, but he has standards. He’s an excellent cook, surprisingly.

Wars: Doesn’t eat. Can’t eat. Is a sword.

Time: Time doesn’t need to eat, but after spending his life as a mortal, it’s a pretty tough habit to break! He’s nostalgic about food, almost. While he doesn’t feel hungry, he doesn’t typically feel full, either. So eating won’t make him sick or anything. If he smells something tasty, he’d ask for a serving! Other than that, he doesn’t have any dietary restrictions.

Hyrule: Vegetarían! And he LOVES sweet things. He fills up on berries and then will go days without eating again- it doesn’t take much to sustain his little body. (Like Wild, he’s not exactly physical, either. Most of his body mass is just magic). Sugar water? His favorite. Jelly? He loves. He’s such a little guy, I love him.

Sky: Pescatarian! As Link, he was vegetarian, but Aepon really liked fish. To this day, Sky’s favorite meal is pumpkin and fish soup, which is a weird combination. But Pipit made it for him once and it’s been his favorite ever since! (A combination of Link and Aepon’s favorites). He’s not against eating meat but his body isn’t really equipped to handle it. Same with dairy- but no one knew that until they gave him a bunch of milk after hearing that he has fragile bones. He is morally against eating eggs.

Legend: He has to absolutely douse all of his meals with a bunch of salt or he’ll die, but he’s vibing. He prefers seafood, but he’s been living on land (and has traveled enough) to be able to stomach the plants that grow above water. He has even developed a preference for certain meats. He’ll take whatever he’s given, usually, and add his own salt haha.

Ravio: Literally the exact same as Legend. (Except he’s been neglecting the salt thing for pretty much his whole life. Someone help him, he’s not doing well).

Wind: Literally the exact same as Legend and Ravio, except he doesn’t need all the salt supplementation… at least not nearly to the same extent.

Four: Eats a typical diet! Nothing really to say here. Typical three meals a day, meat and vegetables and dairy and all that. Four will mix their food before eating, which the others might find odd. They prefer to have everything in every bite. Soups are good haha!

Twilight: Typical diet. He eats meat and vegetables and dairy and all that jazz. Lots of protein. He eats… more than you’d expect, and that’s because he has different forms to maintain. It doesn’t cost him anything to shift- it takes no energy- but if he only eats enough for a Hylian, he won’t be able to last long as a wolf or another large animal.

This post might offer some more insight!

#the legend of zelda #chain as cryptids au #i answered question #cryptid lore #cryptid four #cryptid ravio #cryptid legend #cryptid time #cryptid sky #cryptid twilight #cryptid hyrule #cryptid warriors #cryptid wind #cryptid wild #AGH THE LITTLE GUYS #I love them!! #links meet au

[asbealthgn]

okay I keep seeing posts about steve dying in season 5 and I simply do not claim that energy BUT it got me thinking about what would happen if he did? and uuuh this lil baby ficlet about steve and eddie in the afterlife happened

———

Steve opens his eyes and there’s no monsters, no Upside Down, no Robin or Nancy or Dustin. There’s just the soft sound of water lapping against wooden boards, filtered afternoon light, and the dusty interior of Reefer Rick’s boathouse.

The hell?

“Good to see you again, Harrington.”

Steve sits up so fast that he would normally see stars at the edges of his vision. Guess being dead means that doesn’t happen anymore. Eddie Munson is leaning back against the wall, smoking a cigarette and grinning at him.

“What are—why—” Steve takes a breath and tries to gather his thoughts, because there are too many questions swirling around his head that he wants to ask. “Why am I here?”

Eddie raises his eyebrows. “Here, like, in the afterlife?” he asks, “I hate to break it to you, man, but you kinda died.”

“Yeah, no, I got that,” Steve says, “I mean, why here? In the boathouse?” If the afterlife is just this shitty little wooden structure he’s gonna be so mad.

But Eddie just shrugs. “Your guess is as good as mine, dude,” he says, “When I kicked it, I woke up in my chair at Hellfire. I think it’s supposed to be some place that was significant to you before you died.”

Significant. What’s significant about this place over any other place in Steve’s life? Unless… No. That’s ridiculous. 

“Was anyone there?” Steve asked. 

Eddie gets a sort of sad look on his face. “My mom,” he says, “She died when I was little.” But then his face brightens again. “She’s here! Not, like, here, in this moment, but around. I’m gonna be honest, I didn’t think I’d ever see her again.”

“That’s really nice,” Steve says. He wonders how it happened that Eddie is his welcome wagon to the Great Beyond. Probably because the only people Steve’s really lost have been distant family he never knew that well. Eddie was the first person whose death cut him right to the core. 

Eddie pushes off the wall and crosses over to Steve, sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of him. “It’s so weird to talk about her,” Eddie says, “Because I’m so used to being sad about her being dead. But now so am I, and I’m getting to see her.”

“Where did your mom wake up, when she died?” Steve asks, wondering if maybe that’s too nosy of a question. 

“She said it was the little café down the road from our old apartment,” Eddie says. “She always loved it ‘cause it got so much sun.”

The image makes Steve smile. He imagines Eddie sitting on a woman’s lap in a big, sunny window, watching people pass by outside. “So is that what the afterlife is?” he asks, “Just a whole bunch of places from our lives?”

Eddie shrugs. “I don’t know. I’m still trying to figure it all out,” he says, “I haven’t been dead that long, and anyway, time is funny here. I’ve explored a little, but there’s a lot to see. Mainly I’m trying to find some door that’ll let me go back to earth, because there are some people I would love to haunt the shit out of.”

Steve laughs. He could get behind that. Eddie reaches out and pokes him in the knee.

“So what makes the boathouse significant to you?” he asks, “I’ll be honest, I figured it would be, like, your house or something. I didn’t think you even knew Reefer Rick.”

“No, I didn’t,” Steve says, “The only time I’ve ever been here were those couple times with you.”

“So why…?” Eddie raises his eyebrows, waiting for some sort of explanation that would make Steve waking up in the afterlife in a place he’d spent a grand total of maybe two hours in make sense. 

The only answer Steve can come up with is pretty embarrassing. He lets his eyes drift to the wall, the spot where Eddie had him pinned with that broken bottle. With everything else going on, he’d barely even had time to acknowledge that all of that had made him feel some very confusing things, because they had to rush off and help Max and kill Vecna and then try to kill him again when the first time didn’t stick. Steve hadn’t taken the time to muddle through why he felt so much every time Eddie grinned at him or touched him or called him big boy. Then Eddie had died, and it didn’t matter anyway, because nothing could ever become of it. 

Except now Steve’s dead too. And Eddie’s here.

“Uh,” Steve says, stalling for time. Eddie follows his gaze over to the wall and then looks back at Steve.

“What’re you lookin’ at, big boy?” he asks. 

And fuck, who knew blushing was possible in the afterlife? Steve meets Eddie’s eyes that are so dark in the shadows of the boathouse but that he’s seen glow gold in the sunlight. Something crosses over Eddie’s face and it’s like he knows what Steve’s thinking. He opens his mouth and starts to speak. “Steve—”

“D’you wanna go out sometime?” Steve blurts. He’s already dead; might as well take some risks, right?

Eddie laughs and Steve doesn’t know if it’s a good laugh or a bad laugh. But then he reaches out and takes Steve’s hand. “Yeah, I do,” he says, “I’ll be honest, I haven’t really come across any good date spots in the afterlife yet, but I’m sure they’re out there.”

Steve stands, pulling Eddie up with him. He looks at Eddie’s face, his eyes that are sparkling even in the shadows, his smile that has been so inviting from the very first second Steve saw it. “Bet we can find something,” he murmurs.

Grinning, Eddie pulls him over to the door and grabs the handle. “C’mon then, big boy,” he says, “Let’s explore.”

#probably not gonna write any more of this but i do like the idea of them figuring out how to haunt dustin #steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #ficlet

[transguygardner]

Taylor’s Guide for Getting into DC Comics

decided to make an official post for my method on getting into DC Comics

I don’t know anything about DC Comics and comics continuity scares me

if you’re intimidated by how many comics there are and all the different timelines and continuities and oh my god there’s so many characters then i suggest starting with watching Batman the Brave and the Bold

what it is: it’s a three season 22 minute cartoon from 2008. it focuses on Batman teaming up with a bunch of different heroes and is generally episodic in nature

why i recommend it as a starting point: at this point pretty much everyone has heard of batman in some shape or form. so this gives you a familiar character while being exposed to an enormous cast of different characters. it doesn’t give you the origins or much explanation for many of the characters or how they all know each other which is much like reading modern comics! so it helps you get used to not knowing who everyone is and not getting an origin story every time someone shows up. it also shows you pretty much every corner of the dc universe so you gain some passing familiarity with someone from every niche even if its by name only

some of its flaws: since its an adaptation there are things (many things) that don’t line up with how things are (or ever were) in the comics. which brings me to my next step

READ THE WIKIPEDIA PAGES OF CHARACTERS YOU’RE INTERESTED IN

i’m not talking about the wiki/fandom pages. i’m talking about wikipedia. this will give you some broader context for the characters both in universe and in the cultural landscape. also if you don’t feel ready to read the comics yet/don’t know where to get those comics it will give you other adaptations of that character if there are any. it could also mention another character that you also think is interesting and then you can read their pages

when you’ve done that then you can move onto

I know what character I want to read but how do I know what to read?

your two best friends are going to be googling “[character name] comic vine” and “[character name] dc wiki”

both comic vine and the dc wiki keep lists of character appearances. the dc wiki has them linked at the bottom of each character page while comic vine has them linked at the top

whats the difference between them?

comic vine keeps every appearance of the character under the same list even if its from a different continuity. they also list trade paperbacks and other language reprints under the same page. comic vine sorts it by series so you will see the series that your chosen character has the most appearances in first. which might not always be issues about them

the dc wiki separates out the character appearances based on which continuity its under. so characters will have multiple appearance lists depending on when it was published and if it was for an au or not. for example: bruce wayne (new earth) and bruce wayne (prime earth) are two of the MANY different pages with appearance lists for batman on the dc wiki. vs comic vine where they’re all under bruce wayne. the dc wiki does not include reprints and trade paperbacks under the appearance lists and sorts it alphabetically

so which one do i use?

personally i’d start with the comic vine list. its easier to get the relevant info from and then use it to answer these questions

does your character have a solo series?

a solo series is anything that’s named after that character. sometimes they’re duo series (batman & superman, blue & gold, fire & ice: smallville etc). if yes start with one of those. if you plan on reading everything and don’t mind older writing styles pick the oldest one and move through the list of solo series. if you are turned off by the older writing styles start with the oldest one published in or after 1986. if you just want to read more modern/current stuff start with one labeled “rebirth” at the top

is your character on a team book?

if your character doesn’t have a solo or you read the solos and want to read something else see if they’re on a team book! team books are just what they sound like. books that focus on a bunch of characters that are operating under the same team name. if you read their wikipedia page it probably mentions if theyre on a team. you can also double check with the dc wiki (check the [character name] new earth and [character name] prime earth pages to see if they’re affiliated with anyone)

if they’re in multiple volumes of the same title team book i would generally start with the oldest. again skip any from before 1986 if you can’t handle the older writing styles. and if you only want the really new stuff start with ones with the rebirth label on them

my character doesn’t have a solo or a team book!

so you’ve got a few options.

look up a reading guide (which honestly you couldve done for the other characters too but i think it’s better to learn how to choose which ones to read yourself since they don’t always have reading guides)

start at their first appearance then go from there (if comic vine has your character listed with 250 or less appearances this is a decent choice especially since anywhere from 10 to 25% of those will be reprints)

choose based on the artwork (good art/art you like can get you through a lot of bad writing)

generally all of these are good options to take. with option three just be wary if the writer is tom king since he is known to take extreme liberties with characteristics

tips and tricks

if you really like the writing or the art on a book take note of who wrote it or who drew it. if you search “[creator name] comic vine” it will pull up a page similar to the character ones and you can check what other stuff they made. following a creator’s career is a good way to branch out your reading list and helps you identify what you do and don’t like

if there’s a specific kind of character you want to read (divorced, fire powers, alien, etc) you can check the category pages on the dc wiki. just find the page of a character you know fits that category (maxwell lord for divorced for example) scroll to the bottom. expand the categories and click on the one you’re looking for. you’ll find a list of characters with that tag on them

some characters are just confusing so don’t worry about it. hawkman, hawkgirl/woman, and supergirl have three of the most confusing continuities in dc comics. so if it seems confusing don’t let it stop you

you really don’t have to understand the nuances of continuity in order to enjoy comics. that has never stopped a writer before. so it shouldn’t stop you!

you can read comics with the dc universe subscription or comixology or going to your local comic shop. some used bookstores also have comic bins. if you google “read comic online” you should probably find something. make sure you have a good adblock though

thats basically it. just rinse and repeat with however many characters you want!

final notes

personally i think reading stuff from oldest to newest is the most interesting way to read comics because then you can see how the character has evolved over the years and find out which writers like to collaborate with previous ideas and which ones like to bulldoze it all down

1986 is chosen as a dividing point because that is when DC’s first MAJOR continuity reboot happens. it’s Crisis On Infinite Earths and basically just combines all the different DC earths into one. so there’s a lot of explaining whats going on in those earlier books. you CAN start with the 70s stuff if you want but generally its easier to start with the late 80s if you don’t want to go all the way back

books labeled rebirth are chosen for the people who want to start with the now because that is the start of the last major reboot and will introduce you to the modern interpretation of the character. which imo isnt always the best since a lot of the modern interpretations are more shallow. but to each their own

#dc comics #comics guide

[daytaker]

A Heart-Pounding Interruption to My Life as an Otaku Shut-In!!

Leviathan recognizes these tropes... He's onto you.

Ship: Leviathan x Reader Word Count: 991 Cross-Posted on AO3

It kind of felt like the main character blew into town when you arrived. I never told that to anyone because I didn’t think they’d get it, but since you’ll probably never see this, I might as well put it all out there.

I mean, just look at the situation we’re talking about: a human was whisked away from their standard human-world life and woke up in the Devildom as an exchange student. And not only that– gasp! They’re living in a house with seven conventionally attractive men with wacky and diverse personalities?! This was an obvious reverse-harem plot! And it looked like I was in the harem!

As the days went on, I only became more and more convinced about the situation. The way you started working through us one by one, identifying our vulnerabilities and getting closer to us as individuals and as a collective… That was classic otome heroine behavior, and I was not going to stand for it. Because I knew that there was at least a 6:7 chance I wasn’t the male lead. Odds were, I’d be passed over by a normie with normie taste for one of my normie brothers. This called for a strategy meeting.

So I convened a war council. Myself, Henry, and… well, just myself and Henry. Asmo was busy and Beel wasn’t going to come if I didn’t provide snacks. But Henry never lets me down.

We worked late into the night, and eventually, I drew up my plan of action: Give up completely and isolate myself so that whatever feelings I might have inadvertently caught would be smothered underneath my devotion to Ruri-chan and Sucre Frenzy!

It wasn’t especially creative, but I wasn’t looking for creativity. I was looking for results!

Just… Well… It turned out it didn’t provide results either…

You came knocking on my door the very next day and asked if I was doing alright.

I mean, what was I supposed to say to that? I get that it might not be a big deal to most people to have someone show some level of concern for their basic welfare, but it was for me. It really rattled me! So I would lose my head whenever you showed up. I’d forget all about the war plans and start getting excited. I’d start thinking about what shows and series to recommend to you, and I’d start thinking about whether you’d want to watch any of them with me, and I’d start thinking about whether any of the games I was into recently would interest you…

It was like I wanted to spend my precious time getting closer to you. It was awful! Especially since I knew I was just another guy in the harem.

So there was this game I played a long time ago called My Heart-Pounding Soul Search on Earth. It was a dating sim where the main character was a demon disguised as a human, and they were looking for an ideal soul to pair up with. You know me, right? I’m a completionist. I like to finish every game in as many ways as I possibly can. I don’t really do that sort of thing for dating sims anymore though, mostly because of MHPSSE. See, there was this one character called Alex–one of the routes you could go for, right? And I like Alex, so the first time around, I went for that route. Then I went to play again, and…I got Alex again. So I played a third time, and I was really trying to go for Yuki, but I kept selecting answers that increased my intimacy with Alex again, and eventually I just gave up and dated Alex for the rest of my simulated life. It was like…I had a bunch of options in front of me, but I kept getting drawn to the choices that brought me closer to the same outcome, even when I thought I was trying to do something different.

Does that make sense? I feel like I’m doing it again now.

So I never ended up isolating myself into oblivion or un-catching any feelings that might have accidentally got themselves attached to me. Instead I did the opposite. Except in this scenario, like I’ve already said, I’m not the main character anymore. I’m Alex! But I’m only your Alex if you like Alex best. I could be Dylan for all I know, and nobody ever went for Dylan. Dylan sucked, lmao.

Do you know what the worst part is? I don’t even think I’d mind being Dylan.  Ehhhh… Scratch that, I don’t want to be Dylan. Mammon can be Dylan. But I don’t think I need to be your Alex to be happy. Because, well, you still hang out with me and let me talk about nerd stuff and don’t roll your eyes or tell me to beat it or laugh at me behind my back.

I know you don’t laugh at me behind my back. I’m really good at sussing that kind of thing out.

You laughed to my face sometimes. Sometimes I got too excited or too intense or something, I guess, and you must have thought it was kind of funny. But more often, you seemed like you actually… felt some sort of interest in what I’m talking about. And the really annoying thing is that I don’t even get mad anymore when you do laugh, because it never feels mean-spirited. I hope I’m not just being an idiot and seeing things how I wish they were. I don’t like being played for a fool, you know. That’s Mammon’s job, lol.

So, yeah. I don’t really know what I was trying to say here. I really hope you never see this. I’d die of embarrassment. But, um… maybe, if you wanted to, you could go for my route sometime? I’d definitely be okay with that.

And thanks… for everything.

#obey me #fanfic #obey me leviathan #obey me fanfic #om! leviathan #obey me levi x reader #daytaker fanfic #obey me x reader #obey me levi #levi