#and one of my favorites i've ever read is. also about them. but that one doesn't have rayni but does have fitz | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

birdantlers · 9 months

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A heartfelt and grievously expanded-upon update to this—please, please read the whole thing if you can. reblogs much appreciated.

(DISCLAIMER, for all who are saying reasons like abusive parents/legal stuff/toxic ex/triggering memories/page got deleted/job/stalkers/bullying/[[insert any other shitty life thing]], This is not concerning that—personal safety & health ALWAYS comes first, and is worth more than any media ever could be. This is my biggest reason for defending that autonomy. I would be a hypocrite to say I hadn’t deleted triggering posts of mine or ones that got me in trouble with my family.)

it genuinely makes me sad and kinda upset when someone purges all their old art off the internet like. barring harmful content what if someone liked that. What if someone would have. And now nobody will ever know and it's just gone. even people's old invader zim askblogs or whatever getting deleted feels like a micro alexandria to me and that's just something I made up. I wasn't even thinking of a specific one it just stresses me out. Is this the autism I don't get why nobody else seems to freak internally abt it like I do. I see artists whose blogs I've never even looked at go like "man so glad I deleted all my old stuff it's so clean" or saying they throw out art from when they were kids I'm like. how are you not hurling. How is that not distressing that is literally your tree rings why would you do that. I want to see what's out there. people want to see it I promise someone out there likes it

...don't they??? Does everyone get quietly irrationally upset by this as me, or is this just hyperfixation/autism/some amalgam of the two. I'm not a hoarder or obsessive compulsive or anything like that so i wonder..

Anyways. reblog if you had a favorite amateur youtube animator in your childhood whose channel got nuked without a trace one day that you still think about.

I wanted to attach this video because it condenses my point very well. A TLDR of sorts. Please watch the whole thing, it genuinely changed the entire way I think about art as a concept.

(2nd vid is "Subjectivity in Art")

“The moment your art touches an audience, the ownership shifts in an irreversible way. [They're] not having an art experience with you and your intentions. They're having an art experience with the art object.

“You can't just burn your past; it's not even your past to burn anymore. It's other people's history as well. Whether or not you like it, that art is already bonded to somebody's soul, and if you rip the art away, you're ripping a bit of the soul that has adhesive contact to it.”

The digital age makes it very easy to distance or detach yourself from the impact your work has—be it art, fanfic, videos, even memes. Online content is as important to people now as any other media, if not more. But it's also by far the easiest, fastest, and most effective form of it to erase from public access. Media so unbelievably important to people and in general. Yes, you—with the 2010s purple sparkle dog speedpaint. I still think about that speedpaint all the time, because it was the first time i learned that you could draw on a computer, and I thought it was cool as hell. I still do.

I do wish there was a stronger culture of preservation and consideration for this, because every time I see people talk about snuffing their stuff because it doesn't personally resonate with them anymore, I just think ...what about all the people it did?

I've seen lots of people saying "get over it, it doesn't even matter," but it fucking does. It does matter. Even if I didn’t make it, even if I don’t have to deal with being the one who made it, even if I'm naturally inclined to be distressed by it—It still matters. And there’s nothing you could ever say to suddenly make it not matter, because there’s nothing you could ever say to make it not matter to me.

Don't devalue the act of creation. Don't dismiss something you made. It's out there, in people's thoughts and hearts and souls, and that is real. Even if you don't know it. Especially if you don't know it. Especially in a world where physical media is being snuffed out, the internet is constantly dying without any physical remains to recover, social isolation is rampant, and simply because independently produced content online is still media.

Fanfiction can hold equal or greater significance to someone as a book, but you can’t unpublish a book. Authors don’t have a button that can vaporize every copy of their work across all time, but fanfiction authors do. I’m not counting people who download fics either—when you buy a book, that transaction is over. But online, you have the power of unending transaction that can be terminated instantly at your will. The process of publishing fanfic vs. publishing a book may be different, but people’s connection to the art is the same intensity.

So yeah. I do get depressed about the Internet being a constant Alexandria, but the times I get the most depressed is when I click someone's page and see that all their work is gone because they're ‘curating a new aesthetic’ for their page or some shit. Or weeding out all the "ugly" art. Or just went on whatever the hell 'thrill deleting' is, because they just get a kick out of it.

Fuck it—yeah! It upsets me! I’m not wrong to say that. I’m saying it!

Under the cut, because it got long as shit! Also don’t worry the ending is way sappier and more ‘beauty of human nature’ vibe so it’s not all doom and gloom lol

What if that was someone's favorite art of that character. What if someone read that 'cringe oneshot' on the worst day of their life. What if that Warriors meme vid is still burned into a college student’s mind despite being gone for 10 years. What if it's actually not just you and the ones and zeros you rent out to the world—secure in knowing the original will always be on your computer for you to do whatever you want with it.

I really, deeply wish there was more of a general awareness of this, because even though social media can be used like a diary, that’s functionally the opposite of what it is. It’s social media. When you post, it’s no longer in a vacuum, even though you can’t see the real humans that content touches—often deeply.

Media is history. You shouldn’t burn that history just because you personally believe it isn’t worth saving.

Because it’s no longer just your personal opinion. It’s no longer just your personal work. it’s. history. Memory of media is not a suitable replacement for the media itself. If it was, we wouldn’t save anything at all. Nostalgia is an agent of that. The definition of nostalgia is grief for moments of the past that are inaccessible, and the biggest balm for that pain is accessing a physical reminder of those moments. That opinion of yours is no longer personal. It’s weighed against uncountable people across all time that your thing is ALSO personal to. People who would, and will mourn its absence.

How many times have you joined an older fandom only to discover that some of its most popular works are gone? How many times have you routed through random blogs looking for scraps people hopefully reblogged? how many times have you used Wayback machine desperately praying that a fan fiction or a YouTube video will be there? How many times do you look up crunchy old vines or YouTube videos or anime AMV‘s? How many times do you remember old fanfic.net sex that impacted you in middle school, only to shake your head and go ‘probably no point even looking.’

i mourn the absence. No, people can’t and shouldn’t have their agency over what they post revoked, but they should be conscious of that weight. If you’re reading this and getting extremely annoyed, and you’re not in the pink text above,,,, good.

I honestly do hope it gets under your skin. I hope it sits with you. I hope you feel it every time you hit that button, and whether or not you do hit that button—if you hesitate, if you remember this, even spitefully, I’ve done my job. I am howling into the void. And I may not want an answer, but I do want my anguish to be heard and remembered. Because it isn’t me just being melodramatic.

I know I sound that way writing so much, but if my favorite writing YouTuber can drop trow this week and go, "yeah, sorry, all my video essays from less than a year ago that you listen to in the car all the time? I'm "rebranding" my content so i deleted them. besides, my personal views don't really agree align with the analyses i did, or the techniques i taught in them anyway. Sorry if some of the literal tens of thousands of you used them, but I don't want to feel shackled to having youtuber "classics" tied to me”

….then i guess I'm just going to have to sound dramatic! That fucking sucks! Hours of work and knowledge gone! This was a new channel too. It’s very likely there’s no archive of any kind, because who would think someone who worked hard enough to write, record, and edit hour-long videos, would just turn around and nuke it all? I definitely didn’t see it coming, but I did just start a new screenwriting class a few weeks ago, so I’ll tell you at least one person is REALLY missing those fucking videos right now. Because a lot of them were about specifically screenwriting, which I know jack shit about. and that specific person’s pace, editing, and style of breaking down information was the best suited style I found that I could focus on and absorb. There’s no replacement for that. No alternative for his individual perspective. his jokes. his opinions.

No, they may not resonate with him now, but in this decision, he’s put up a big middle finger to everyone who might have. And he has like 100k subscribers! Those are confirmed supporters! Imagine how many silent and untethered observers are feeling this loss right now. Imagine how many will not have it in the future.

If he never posted them at all, we wouldn’t know we had it. It wouldn’t be a loss. But we did. We did have it. Until he decided that no, we didn’t, because he just happens to be the one out of millions of individuals holding the button to burn it in a hundredth of a second.

His personal work, the attachment I had to it, and the ways that it helped me are now just ripped away. I am one person out of millions, literal MILLIONS of people who saw and liked this content before it vanished. The soul has been ripped, the access severed, and by CJ’s (and my) definition, the art is functionally dead. Not for the YouTuber or anyone else lucky enough to save a link or download, but everyone else. From this point until the end of time, even if people even two weeks from now don’t know it. Even if someone who stumbles upon his channel today, doesn’t know it.

We only mourn the concept of Alexandria because we had some kind of scope for what was inside. Yes, maybe you got self-conscious and deleted your 12 year old deviant art account. Do you know who else is doing that?? THOUSANDS AND THOUSANDS of other twenty somethings who ALSO feel self-conscious about their old socials. Art. Fanfic. One direction fan videos. anything.

Suddenly, an unquantifiable amount of information from your age group—an entire age group in 2012, is. gone. And we will NEVER know what’s been erased from that history. We will NEVER know what could have been significant to us ten years from now. Twenty years from now. A hundred years. A thousand.

You could have deleted a fanfic that would have been someone else’s new go-to panic attack distraction tomorrow. You could have deleted a video someone used to laugh at with their friend who died yesterday. When you delete something, you risk tearing a hole in unknowable personal histories.

The Internet isn’t just a big library of Alexandria. It’s a library containing libraries. And those libraries have their own libraries in those libraries have their own as well. libraries inside libraries, inside libraries, ad infinitum. To conceive the amount of destroyed history on the Internet is crushing.

And I just can’t help but I ask myself how in gods name people can choose to contribute to that, instead of reposting everything to trash heap alts titled “hall of shame” or some shit.

You can offload to alts. Put up disclaimers. Make password locked blogs, or dropboxes, or anonymous imgur dumps. Anonymous reuploads. Orphan fics. Make a playlist or linktree of unlisted videos. Cut off the watermarks. Delete all references to it on your main. Make a dedicated unlisted playlist. make a google drive. Make new portfolio sites. Delete any questions you get about it. Change pen names. Pretend it never existed.

Give a heads up.

Something.

But don’t. kill. the media.

The knowledge that our stuff is going to forever be tied to us is a cross we have to bear, but the responsibility that comes with putting it out there in the first place, can’t be ignored.

Anyway. I'm not trying to start conflict. This is not a bash on anyone, nor a call for witch hunts. Or anon hate, or blocks and unfollows or anything of that nature. I'm not wishing ramifications or hate of any kind on anyone who does wants to do any of this.

I'm also not guilt tripping— I am not saying that you should feel bad. I AM saying why it makes me feel bad. That’s not guilting, it’s a dialogue. One I personally feel is long overdue.

It's me yelling into the void: please consider the real people on the other side of the screen before you hit that button. Realize and know that whatever you're about to erase from history could be the most important thing in the world to someone.

Art is an experience. It's why we revisit it. If art and history simply lived in the matter and code of media, we would only need to look at it once. We wouldn’t put things in museums. We wouldn’t build libraries. We wouldn’t look up vine compilations.

If you're able, consider (and I do mean consider, this is not a call to action) not destroying that. And don’t shrug it off as some pretentious asshole venting on Tumblr. You only need to look in the notes and tags to see that it isn’t just me. it’s never just me, or you, or the pixels.

And even if you do shrug it off, then at least recognize that what you make matters. Whatever you think about it, if it’s out there, that's not your discretion anymore. If a tree falls in the woods and even one person is around to see it, it fucking mattered. Because it happened. Don’t mulch your tree rings if you don’t have to. Because if enough people do it, a whole forest is gone. Media is history, no matter whether you think it’s worth putting in a museum, or only has 30 notes.

Thousands of years ago, a child named onfim doodled on his homework. They’re crude, and everyone has the wrong amount of fingers, and they’re also priceless archaeological artifacts recognizable throughout the world.

the only thing separating Onfim’s doodles and your MS paint Pokémon doodles is time. The only thing separating your old MS paint Pokémon doodles from being a priceless artifacts, thousands of years in the future is time. Your creations are already priceless artifacts. No matter what you do, don't ever, ever deny that. It isn’t blowing up your own ass, it’s artistic and anthropological fact.

The mundane and the supposedly unworthy are often the first things lost to time, and that’s why they’re so precious. That’s why artists who were before their time are scorned first only to be celebrated later. Do you think they knew that was going to happen?? What if they nuked it? Many probably did! But now that’s happening exponentially and instantaneously everywhere, WITHOUT the artist having to destroy their only copy—which makes it way easier and more dismissable.

Sometimes, If you’re revolutionary enough, people will make an effort to preserve your work, but recognized and thoroughly recorded work is rare compared to unrecognized and thoroughly recorded work.

Sometimes something is beloved enough that it would be impossible for it not to go down in history, but even then it isnt a guarantee, and it’s rare. But if van Gogh burned all of his paintings in a fit of despair before his death, we would have no van Gogh. Because he wasn’t respected as an artist in his time, but that wasn’t what defined the worth of his art. The people after him did, because his art was still there for them.

If you rip the art away, you're ripping a bit of the soul that has adhesive contact to it. If you belittle your art, you belittle the very real relationships and emotions and revisitations people have with the media. You defy the inherent worth and weight of a creation. you created. That's effort. It's passion. No matter how flippant or unskilled or worthless you think it is, it matters. Because at the end of the day, you could have chosen to make nothing at all, and you didn't.

•

Muting notifs

#artists on tumblr #Artistic #digital art #art history #anthropology #humanity #art discussion #art theory #skit yells

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evasive-anon · 4 months

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Jason Attacking Tim at Titans Tower

Fanon vs Canon

We've all seen the versions in fanfiction but I'm not so sure everyone's seen the original so if you're one of those batfam fans who doesn't want to read the comics (regardless of reasons) but you are curious about how it actually went this is for you.

What I'm addressing:

What does Jason actually say to Tim during the attack?

Did Jason drug all the other Titans?

Did Jason really wear a Robin costume?

Did Jason slit Tim's throat or call him replacement?

Did Jason actually break Tim's bo staff?

Was Tim crying or scared?

Did Jason write a message on the wall in Tim's blood?

Did Jason's eyes glow green?/Did he follow pit rage mechanics?

Panels and details below. This is a LONG one.

What did Jason actually say to Tim during the attack?

Dialogue in fanfiction during the Titans Tower attack varies based on what kind of fic you're reading but usually its either 'time to clip Replacement's wings' if its staying a beatdown whump 'or oh no precious lil bby why is no one watching you' if its an accidental child acquisition. Not judging either option, but this ain't about them its about the real shit.

Look at these opening lines:

Hey, Tim. I was here first.You're the Red Hood. You've been cleaning up Gotham the easy way. Easy? What do you know about easy, Tim? You had a father that looked after you. You went to a private school, right? You slept in a bed. I slept on the streets, I lived in the alleyways in Gotham. Trying to survive. Until Bruce took me in. I trained as hard as I could. I did whatever he asked. . . at least at first. But it didn't matter. They said I wasn't tough enough to be robin. But today, they say you are. Show me, Tim. Show me what you have that I didn't.

Jason really puts himself out there in all of his dialogue in this encounter, the struggle of having to fight for anything and everything he got in life, even the things that came to everyone else for free, and then being told he wasn't even good enough for the things he fought for.

There's a trope in fanfics that if Jason knew Tim stalked Batman and forced his way into being Robin that it would change how Jason felt about the situation but that's even addressed in this comic:

You were a kid, worried about how Batman was spiraling down into darkness. You spent weeks tracking the dark knight. Solving a mystery no one else could. You discovered who he was behind that mask. Millionaire Bruce Wayne. You were so pleased with yourself, I'm sure that you forgot who you were really dealing with. I know Bruce Wayne. And let me tell you, Tim if someone was trying to find out who Batman really was. If someone was stalking him for weeks. He'd know about it. You can't be that good. I am. He let you find him. And I bet he said the same thing to you as he did to me, didn't he? That you had a talent to make a difference in Gotham. That he needed someone he could trust in war on crime. That you were one of a kind. The light to his darkness. Robin, the Boy Wonder.

Tim saying 'I am' is really such a moment that doesn't come through in text because he is right that he really did do that but I also completely understand why Jason wouldn't believe it.

TBH my favorite part is how done Tim honestly sounds with Jason thoughout all his trauma dumping. Like imagine a grown man who used to work the same part time job as you breaking into your house, dressing up in your work uniform, ranting about how much the job ruined his life while he beats your ass??? God, and he probably had to write a fucking report about it after. RIP Timmy.

What do you want? Do you want to be Robin again? Is that it? You... want to take it away from me? Why in the hell would I ever want that? Don't you get it? When I died no one cared! No one remembered me. Are you completely insane? No one could forget you. I've spent my entire career wearing this mask under your shadow. I had to convince Batman to let me try this. All because he'll never stop blaming himself for what happened to you. You ask me, that's the only reason he hasn't taken you down. He's holding back. But me? No freakin' way. That's the Robin I wanted to see. Still. You do realize the whole idea of training a teenager to fight against something he'll never eradicate is a mistake. It didn't even surprise anyone when I died. When I failed. I failed-- but I'm still beating you. Do you think you're that good now?! Do you really, Tim? Yes.

Tim bashing Jason across the face as he says 'no freakin' way'? *chefs kiss*

Jason drugging the other Titans to knock them out?

Little bit true, Kory was actually just already away from the tower and BB and Cyborg were about to bounce because of the drama going on with Donna's return but Jason like super tazes them and then drugs Raven who he thought already went through enough shit without him knocking her out violently.

Note: Jason says in the text here that he never rolled with Cyborg or BB but like he actually did in some comics so?? The continuity is lie I guess idk.

Did he show up in Red Hood gear or a Robin costume?

Both tbh but he spent most of the time in the Robin costume but bro actually made a stripper rip away version of his Red Hood gear so he could dramatically reveal the Robin costume underneath. I can't believe no one ever includes that in their fics its so fucking funny.

Does he call Tim 'replacement' or slit his throat?

No, this came from a Batman comic with Hush not Teen Titans. That incident takes place in a graveyard not Titans Tower and he calls Tim pretender not replacement.

Does Jason break Tim's staff?

Tragically, no. The bo staff snap would have been iconic. Instead he just takes Tim's staff and beats Tim up with it and breaks stuff. BUT!! He uses it to bust a statue in the TITANS MEMORIAL ROOM which is a place in Titans Tower just for having statues of dead previous titans and Jason is rightfully pissed he didn't get one. Like Tim is correct in saying no one forgot him still but like I would be hurt too if all my friends made cool statues of friends that died and then just left my zombie ass out, like wtf.

Note: I am seriously losing my shit that I have never seen someone bring up the memorial room in a fanfic. That is so much angst material. 😭

Tim crying/ being scared?

Hell no. He's a fucking Robin you know he's being a sassy boy the whole time, even towards the end when he's about done he's still saying he's her and I love Tim for that.

Note: There are a few different times where Tim does a flippy Robin move and then Jason just fucking copies it like flexing that he can do it too, and its just so petty and stupid he's trying so hard to be better than an actual child. 💀I get why in the context of the situation but its still so ridiculous.

Message on the wall in Tim's blood?

TBH I really don't know for sure on this one?? Like its implied that he did but Tim isn't bleeding all that much throughout this beatdown and like we don't see Jason do it just the Titans reacting to seeing it after. It could be Tim's blood, it could be red paint, and it could even be that Jason packed an actual bucket of blood to bring with him to write a message with after he finished. TBH the world is your oyster on this one.

Note: If anyone can find another comic where this event was brought up where they actually clarify it was Tim's blood hmu and I'll update this but I couldn't find any.

Pit rage/ glowing green eyes?

Fanon only at this point in the comics. Jason is seems to be himself and even thinks Tim and his friends are pretty cool at the end, and he's just like reflecting on if he had good friends if he would have turned out better as he leaves.

#tim drake #jason todd #red hood #robin dc #teen titans #comic panels #jason and tim #teen titans 2003 #dc comics #panels are from teen titans (2003) issue 29 #i would never tell anyone they have to read comics but i do think seeing the original scene of fanon favs is good #not because you need to follow them but because its good to know what you're taking inspo from #jason attacking tim at titans tower #LONG POST

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neil-gaiman · 11 months

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hey mr gaiman. i saw that this post got revisited and wanted to address it.

i submitted this ask over a year ago on my old account and it was one of the stupidest things i ever did. it was my first tumblr account. id only been really online for a few weeks. i was 13. i was just coming back to school after a global pandemic.

ive been a fan of good omens for years and a fan of yours for longer. i was brought up reading odd and the frost giants and fortunately the milk, and as i got older i fell in love with your norse mythology book, good omens, snow glass apples, the sleeper and the spindle, and more.

i was excited to see one of my favorite authors on tumblr and tried to come up with the most bold and interesting ask i could think of.

i was rude and misinformed and it was a stupid choice of me to send it in with no thought.

but i got feedback. some in the form of kind suggestions. quite a few in the form of death threats and people telling me to kill myself.

while those specific messages were rude and hateful, the point got across. i educated myself to the best of my abilities, and eventually came back online.

not only did i misuse the term queerbaiting but i also implied that you were not an amazing supporter of the queer community. that’s absolutely incorrect. you’ve done so much for us with activism, representation, and overall kindness.

i wanted to address this ask that got so much attention because despite moving accounts i still feel guilt and shame every time i see it, or even when i interact with any of your posts at all. i need to actually address it.

also, i wanted a proper apology to be made. by no means am i now a saint. but im trying to be more thoughtful about thinking before i speak.

whether or not you decide to make a public response to this, i think ill find some peace knowing you’ve received this. ive needed closure on this for a long time.

im overjoyed and thrilled that season two is so close. thank you for tolerating the dumb questions of pretentious kids and thank you for helping to create a world where we can grow to be better than we were.

First of all, and most importantly, I'm really sorry that people were mean to you. That's awful. And nobody should ever have to deal with death threats or online threats and attacks, let alone a thirteen year old.

And secondly, you do not owe me an apology. I figure I have a Tumblr account, people ask things. Mostly they'll get nice replies, occasionally (normally when I'm being asked the same thing over and over) the replies will be terser. There has to be a certain amount of rough and tumble though, and occasionally I'll grab an ask that represents all of the asks I've had on that subject, and try and reply to all of them. That's what happened to you. I was getting tired of being accused of Queerbaiting for the occasional answer about a Season that was not yet released and about which nobody knew anything. And I needed to tell everyone who was doing this that they had to stop now. You had the misfortune to be the representative of all of the other people.

If you are not making mistakes you are not human and you are not learning anything.

(I wish there was tone of voice on the internet.)

And I think you are growing and learning and will make a fantastic adult.

I really hope you enjoy Season 2 when it drops.

#And I hope as many people are nice and supportive about this post #as were mean about that first one

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asmosmainhoe · 5 months

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MC's eyes glow when they use magic

Hello ☆ I hope u're having a nice day :D I had one request for the Obey Me brothers kek, their reaction to an MC whose eyes glow when they use magic, and when they use the demons powers their eyes change color to the sin color (Ex. Red for Beel, Blue for Luci, etc) and it feels as if they connect with MC in a deeper level? Sorry if its too weird or specific! I've been enjoying reading your writings 🤗

-anon

Note: I'm so sorry that it's so short, love! I've been so busy preparing things for the holidays since I'm visiting my home country :'D

Gender: neutral

Warnings: heavy language

Lucifer

He loves the fact that your eyes glow in the color of his sin when you channel his magic

It fills him with pride to see how that makes the connection between you two so obvious for others

That's right. That's his power

"I must say that blue suits you wonderfully."

He's very casual about it, but he's definitely doing a small dancy dance of victory behind closed doors

Mammon

Of course he is head over heels for your glowing eyes when you channel his magic! They basically look like the shiniest coins he has ever seen!

Besides it makes it more than obvious that you guys have a pact together

"Fuck yea! That's my human over there!"

Please use his power so that people know you're fucking shit up with his help

Leviathan

Levi is absolutely geeking out over the fact that your fucking eyes glow when you use magic

I mean if that doesn't scream main character vibes then I don't know what does

He's so going to use that as inspiration for rpg's or headcanons/fanfictions in the future

And then they glow in his sin's color too when you channel his magic? It's so strangelt intimate that he can't help, but blush

Satan

Since he has read about it he's not really surprised by that, but it's still a huge difference to see it with his own eyes

Especially when he feels you channeling his powers and your eyes light up in his color

Seeing that makes Satan feel like someone punched him in the guts, but in a good way? If that makes sense?

Asmodeus

Your eyes are literally glowing in not only his magics colors, but it's also his absolute favorite one as well!

"MC, you look fantastic when you use my powers! Absolutely stunning!"

Asmo can't stop gushing about it and he always compliments you for an hour straight whenever it happens

This is what others must feel like when he's seducing them with his eyes

Beelzebub

Imagine you have this angry, skilled sorcerer person absolutely wreck your shit, because you wronged them, but their eyes also glow red?! How intimidating is that?

Unlike the person who is suffering under your magic, Beel is completely mesmerized

He can't find the right words to describe how wonderful you look with his color right now

It makes him forget about his hunger

Belphegor

Belphie is so smug about it and can and will rub it under everyone's nose

"Did MC use your magic? No, bitch. Their eyes were purple so sit down."

It's just a very nice and absolute confirmation for the fact that he is your favorite and that his magic was the most useful one to you in that moment

His brothers will never hear the end of it, because he keeps casually mentioning it at every given opportunity

---

Masterlist

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bunni-bun · 2 years

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🪄

#having weird existential feelings about myself and my relationship to the HP series including JKR again and i'm just kinda mehh now #on one hand HP and JKR are literally the reason i write and read #like i've read HP so many times i can recite the books and movies verbatim #and when i was younger i would tell everyone ever that i was gonna be the next JKR and write a series like hers #cuz i wanted to write something that is beloved and known by all the way HP is/was #and then i grew up #and i learned about poc experiences and trans people #and now some of my greatest friends are trans people and pocs who i adore above all else #that i can't support someone/something who is against the people i love #but that leaves me with the weird feeling of acknowledgment for what HP and JKR have done for me as a writer #and the impact they had on my life's trajectory and my greatest ability #i love writing. i pick up a pen and start writing something and i feel euphoric because it's my favorite thing to do in the world #and it's what i do best now that i'm older #and i would have never known that had it not been for the way JKR wrote HP that it resonated with 12 yo me #but 29 yo me also knows to let go of HP & JKR because i cannot actively support them anymore #it just doesn't stop the weird feeling tho #sad when the author you wanted to emulate turns out to be a fucking TERF but oh well :/#cyndy speaks #introspection i suppose

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u3pxx · 7 months

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After an accident at the crime scene of their newest case, Klavier and Apollo find themselves in a situation neither of them ever imagined they would go through. Between a murder at an antique store, reopened wounds of the heart, and two incredibly observant girls, Klavier and Apollo will have to navigate their new circumstances together. Along the way, affection that had been buried deep in their souls threatens to overtake both of them. The last thing Apollo needs now is a smack to the head with a low door.

finally posting the piece i drew up for @klapollo-minibang 2023 in collaboration with the wonderful artist @taxkha and our wonderful fic writer @strawberricakeandpie!! ♥️💜 READ THE FIC HERE!!

i hope you enjoy the fic strawb has concocted and written up bc i sure do!!!! (her original prompt has been described as "den-bait" WHEEZES) and!!! the awesome art katha will be sharing once the following chapters get posted! :^] (WHICH YOU ARE ALSO NOT READY FOR!!! THEY ARE VERY DELICIOUS.)

extra stuff under read more ;^P | like what i do? support me on ko-fi!

can you believe i've joined the minibang for three years straight now?! and it's been such a dang joy every time! i just love when creatives get together and create something so filled with love for the media they both love, collaboration's fun, man!

also don't mind the fact that i haven't posted the drawings i did for the '21 and '22 minibangs here ok i just made a tumbly in november of last year ok ill get to it someday ASKSKSK

and also very delighted that i get to draw about one of my favorite silly tropes to happen ASKSK which, might not be obvious by the first chapter yet but oh, you'll see it. and maybe come yell at me about the trope after you leave a nice comment on strawb's fic, neow!!!!

if you managed to read this far and still have not read the fic, what're you doing man!!!

#ace attorney #apollo justice #klavier gavin #klapollo #klapollo minibang 2023 #klapollomb23 #klavier x apollo #apollo x klavier #kyodoroki #sunnysidedraws #described #id in alt text #sunnysideattorney

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sanguineterrain · 2 months

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Hi Sanne! I'm not sure if requests are open, but if you're up to it I'd like to request red hood x reporter! Maybe reporter reader is getting too close to a case and is starting to become a target and hood takes her protection into his own hands? ((Including lots of midnight rendezvous and rooftop bump ins))

i love this prompt sm! i've been thinking about a reporter reader ever since i read task force z :) thanks for requesting!

jason todd x gn!reporter!reader. tw: reader is attacked (but they're okay), guns, violence, fighting, jason being both a force to be reckoned with and a big softie. 2.5k words

****

"I don't need protection."

The Red Hood crosses his arms. You cross yours right back.

"Yes, you do," he says.

"No, I don't. I've lived in Gotham my whole life. I can take care of myself."

"Living around and being in the thick of violence are very different. You're already chasing this story; they will come after you."

And what a story it is. The story of the decade, at the very least. A task force of formerly-dead Arkham patients wielded against Gotham by a mysterious benefactor.

It's terrifying. It's dangerous. It's sure to win you your first Pulitzer.

And it all means absolutely nothing if the Red Hood keeps wrapping you in red tape.

Your jaw ticks. "This is my story, Hood. You can't turn it in, so I will. And I won't be scared off by some slimeball."

"Oh, please. You wouldn't even have known about this story if it wasn't for me, smarty."

Smarty. His favorite moniker for you because, according to him, you think you know everything.

Working with the Red Hood has been an unfortunate side effect of chasing your prize-winning story. Not only is he wanted in twenty-six countries (you Googled it) and is a ruthless crime lord (supposedly formerly, but you're doubtful), but worst of all, he's got an attitude to match yours.

He's also built like a tank, which is why you can't just. Outrun him.

"I can't just not publish the story," you say.

"I don't want to stop you from publishing the story. Hence the protection."

"I can't afford a bodyguard."

"Well, it's a good thing I already paid my rent this month."

You scoff. "The Gotham Gazette has a strict 'no armed and dangerous' policy. I'm afraid we all have to leave our gun-toting vigilantes at home."

You open the driver's door of your car, ready to end the conversation here and now. Hood calmly closes the door with his hip and leans.

You glare. "Get off of my car."

"Fact." He holds up a finger. "These kinds of people always strike before the story comes out. They know you're scared and stressed, and they wanna do it before the story gets out. Otherwise, it's obvious who killed who."

"And where did you read this fact? Crime Lord's Digest? We don't even know if they know I'm the reporter who broke into the lab."

"Listen, smarty, I've been in this game a lot longer than you. I know how they operate," he says, finally getting off of your car, only to lean on the hood. Jerk. "It's only a matter of time before whoever's behind this snuffs you out."

"I am not letting a wanted criminal nest in my apartment!"

"That's why I'd be there."

"I was talking about you, Hood."

"Funny."

"I'm not joking. Look, I appreciate your... help." You try not to show your exasperation. "But there's no way I'm inviting you over to my apartment. That'll set off more alarms. If anything happens, I'll call you. Until then, stay away. Deal?"

Hood looks you over.

"Hm. You're awfully comfortable with giving me orders, smarty."

Your adrenaline spikes for a second. But it quickly calms. You've worked with Hood for a month now. Sure, you were petrified the first week, but it quickly dissipated. You've fallen into an odd camaraderie with him.

It's actually kind of nice, having him on your side. No one at the Gazette gives you the time of day. You've become used to having a partner. Not that you'd ever tell him that.

"You take orders so well, I can't help but dole them out," you say, only a little smirky.

"Watch it," Hood rumbles, only half-serious. Probably.

You beam and wrench open your car door, sliding into the seat.

"See?" you say, turning the ignition. "No snipers waiting to take me out. I'll be fine."

He shakes his head and slides off the hood. "Ten bucks says they'll try by the end of the week."

You close your door. "You're on."

****

As it turns out, Hood doesn't need the end of the week to earn his tenner. Trouble breaks down your door the very same night.

You're on your couch with some well-earned Lebanese takeout when your door is ripped off of your hinges. You shoot up from the couch, chest immediately tight.

Your assailant is masked and isn't that typical, giving masked men everywhere a bad name.

You run to the kitchen, hoping you can grab a knife. But you're grabbed before you can get there. You slip on the carpet and trip further into your assailant's arms.

"Keep still so I won't make a mess," is all he says.

You start screaming. He covers your mouth and you bite his hand. That earns you a thump on your cheek, so hard your vision blurs.

Bang!

You freeze, expecting the warm drip of blood and the excruciating pain to accompany it. Instead, your assailant falls to the floor, clutching his ribs. You stumble backwards and see Hood at your door, gun still aimed. He stalks over and kicks the assailant in the chest as he does. The assailant groans.

"You okay?"

You're still staring at the man who very nearly killed you a minute ago. Blood roars in your ears. You think you might be close to fainting.

"Hey." Big, gloved hands hold your face. You flinch and hold the owner's wrists. Hood comes into view once more.

"Are you okay?" he asks firmly. "Look at me, look at me, sweet. Breathe. 'S okay. Does anything hurt? Did he—"

Hood cuts himself off as he touches your cheek, where you were hit. He lightly runs a thumb over what is probably a budding bruise.

Hood lets you go and whirls onto your attacker. He hauls him up and presses a gun to his stomach.

"Go ahead, shoot me!" the attacker shouts.

"If I shoot you, it won't be out of mercy. You won't get a quick death. You don't deserve it," Hood snarls, and you suddenly remember all of your good reasons for fearing the Red Hood.

"I ain't telling ya shit!"

"I don't expect you to," Hood says, and fires again.

The man crumples to the ground, but he's clearly still breathing. Still alive. Hood drags him to the door by his collar.

"You go back to your boss. And you tell 'em that they're fucking with the Red Hood now. And, in case I'm not being perfectly fucking clear through all that blood loss—" Hood grabs the man by his hair and wrenches his head back. "If you come for my reporter again, you'll wish I was kind enough to put a bullet in your head."

Hood hauls your attacker outside. You hear a car start a minute later, and it tears down the street.

You look at your guardian angel, spattered in blood.

Not nearly as much blood as I expected, you think manically.

Your body aches and shakes with adrenaline. You can't even get enough control to move to the couch.

"How–how did you get here so fast?" you ask, staring at your now cracked coffee table.

"I've been monitoring your apartment since you got home. One of the traffic cameras picked up a stolen vehicle turning onto your block, so I came here."

You look at Hood. He seems very collected, all things considered.

"You—how did you find my apartment? Have you been stalking me?"

"Please. Lend me a little credit, smarty. I don't need to stalk you to find where you live," he says, holstering his gun.

"Are you insane?!" you burst. "That is such a gross invasion of privacy! What the hell is wrong with you?"

Hood looks at you.

"What's wrong with me is I just saved your life," he says evenly. "And on that note, you owe me ten bucks. Maybe even fifteen, considering it took less than a day for them to do exactly what I said they would."

Your lip wobbles. You don't know what triggers it; maybe it's your scratched up door or torn sofa or the fact that the Red Hood is in your living room right now with blood on his suit.

The tears form quickly. You can't stop them.

You cover your face but a sob claws out of your throat. Soon, you fall into big, heaving cries.

"Whoa, hey." The floorboards creak under Hood's unsure footsteps. "Hey, I didn't mean that. Shit. I was just kidding about the bet part. Aw, don't cry, smarty."

A hand lightly touches your shoulder. You lean in, but don't dare to initiate more contact. So Hood eases you into a side hug, awkwardly patting your other arm. He's extremely warm and solid with muscle, but his chest is soft enough to rest your head on. He unclips his holster so it doesn't dig into your body.

"I was just kidding," Hood says quietly in your ear. He rubs your arm. "'M sorry. Didn't mean to make y'cry."

You sniff and shake your head. "No, it–it's not that, I'm just—God, I'm t-terrified, Hood. What the fuck am I supposed to do now? They're gonna kill me! I'm gonna die before I win my first Pulitzer!"

You try to suck in deep breath but it's not working. Hood leads your unsteady feet to the couch. You sit, fingers gripping his jacket. Hood carefully loosens your grip.

"They're not gonna kill ya, smarty. I won't let 'em. C'mon, let's have a seat. Where's your kitchen?"

You point, lashes still thick with tears. Hood leaves and returns shortly. A glass of water is held to your lips. You drink it, breathing stilted.

"'S okay. Take it easy. Breathe. That's right."

You swallow half of the water, and he sets the glass down on the coffee table. Hood hands you a wad of tissues.

"This is pathetic," you say, wiping your tears. "Can't believe I'm being nursed by the Red Hood."

"I think nursed is a strong word. But it's more than I usually do for my informants. Then again, they don't usually burst into tears."

"Don't make fun of me. I'm fragile."

"I wasn't making fun of you," Hood says, gentler than you've ever heard him. He puts the tissues aside and rests a hand on your shoulder. You turn into it, appreciative of the weight. "You handled this better than most people would. You didn't even pass out. Hell, I've passed out."

You're sure that Hood is leaving out important details behind that anecdote, like fighting off a hundred men or being swallowed by a whale beforehand. You're grateful nonetheless.

You turn to him, fresh tears in your eyes. "They're gonna kill me, Red."

He shakes his head. "No. Listen to me. Nobody is gonna do anything to you, okay? I'm not gonna let 'em hurt you, smarty pie."

"That's an impossible promise," you say. "One of these days, something will happen. You can't be everywhere at once. Especially not while I'm at home."

Hood tilts his head. "Well..."

"Well, what?"

He rubs his throat. An old injury, he'd once told you. The pain flares up sometimes.

"I could call in a favor. Get you into a safehouse."

"You would do that for me?" you ask. You probably shouldn't ask. Shouldn't look a generous vigilante in the mouth. But you can't help it.

"I can't very well publish the story myself, can I?"

You shrug. "I doubt that. You have your ways. Once you have the evidence, you don't need me."

"That's not true," Hood says fiercely. "I do need you."

Your eyes widen. Hood fumbles for a moment.

"That—I mean for the case. Obviously. I don't have any journalistic links besides you. And I wouldn't want the story to fall into the wrong hands."

"Oh." You have a strong urge to wrap your arms around him. Weird. "Well, um, thank you. I appreciate it."

"Don't thank me yet. It'll take me a few days to get the safehouse," he says.

You deflate. "Oh. So I have to stay here until then?"

Hood is quiet for a long time. So long, you briefly revisit your original theory that the Red Hood is actually an AI remotely controlled by a billionaire.

"Hood?"

You reach to touch him. He flinches, a tiny movement. You immediately draw back.

Nope. Still a man.

"Sorry," he says, hand slipping from your shoulder. "I was, uh, going over options. No, your place is toast until we find whoever's behind this. But, um, it would be possible for you to—if you want to, 'cause if you don't, y'know, I understand, but I—it would be doable for you to, uh, stay with me. Until I get the safehouse."

"Stay... in your apartment?"

"'S not far from here. And it's a hell of a lot better protected than your place. And, y'know, I'd be there most of the time, so like..." Hood clears his throat. "Uh, yeah. It'd be safe. I promise."

"I wouldn't want to impose," you say, nervously scratching your arm.

"Mm. If you're scared of staying with me, y'can just say so. I won't take it personal."

He does kind of sound like he's taking it personally.

"No, Hood, it's not that. I don't... I'm not afraid of you. That, uh, went away a while back," you say. "I just... I don't want to burden you. After all, it's your space."

He makes a sound that tells you he's rolling his eyes behind his helmet.

"Saving your life is important, smarty. Why you don't think so, I'll never know."

You make a soft, pleased sound. "Got a real bleeding heart there, Red."

He sighs. "Yeah. I'm working on it."

You grin. "Thank you for rescuing me."

"Part of the job. If you don't wanna stay with me, I could..." Hood hesitates. "With your permission... I could get the Bats involved. Ask one of them to house you."

"You mean Batman?"

Hood grunts. "Preferably anyone but him, but yeah, if it comes to that. He'll probably get involved anyway. Fuckin' busybody."

"The Bats would protect me? But they don't know me."

"Don't matter. If I asked them to, they would. If that's something you want."

You think. Is it something you want?

Sure, any reasonable person would prefer Nightwing or Batman to protect them.

"I don't want to stay with them," you say. "I'd rather stay with you."

He jerks like you've told him the sky is falling.

"You do?" he asks.

"Well, yeah. I know you, Red. And I know you'll keep me safe."

"At any cost," he says.

That simultaneously frightens and thrills you.

"Then I'd like to go home with you," you say. "If you'll have me."

"'Course, smarty. Anything to keep you safe. Go pack some stuff. I'll be out here. You're okay?"

"I'm okay." You stand and turn before he can see what he does to you.

Yes, it's an odd thing, being partners with the Red Hood.

You're starting to fear that you can't have it any other way.

(pt 2)

#jason todd x reader #Jason todd x you #Red Hood x reader #Red Hood x you #Red Hood fanfiction #Jason todd fanfiction #Jason todd imagine #Red Hood imagine #dc fanfiction #batman fanfiction #batman imagine #dc imagine #Jason todd x gn reader #inbox #blurb

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lenakluthor · 2 months

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totally random question but do you read supercorp fics? and if yes, which ones are your favorites?

i absolutely read supercorp fics! i've been devouring ao3 basically since i finished the show. here are a few of my faves: people will say we're in love by AKAWWJJD - this was recommended to me by a friend and was the second ever supercorp fic i read. it's angsty, but it's BEAUTIFUL and it's one of my favorite fics from any fandom, ever. it's basically a rewrite of crisis and the aftermath of that (with a heartbreaking, post-reveal beginning), and it's just so, so good. it really set the bar for me in terms of supercorp fics and i still think about it to this day. it's heartbreaking and poignant and just. perfect.

the banks of certain rivers and ever more light by @i-am-robie - these two go together, but if you only read one, read ever more light (although i highly suggest reading both). i found this one through a gifset based on the fic, and i am SO happy i did. this is the fic that made me believe in fluff again. i'm not kidding, before i found this fic, if it wasn't tagged as angst, i was not reading it. this one? completely changed my opinion. it's so soft and sweet and it gives you the same butterflies and good feelings kara gets around lena. i actually love these so much that i am in the process of binding them into a book.

same old blues by @searidings - this one is, in my opinion, hands down the best portayal of lena i've read so far. it captures her anger and hurt and emotions so well and it just feels exactly like lena. it picks up after the end of season four and is exactly how i imagine lena's reaction to kara being supergirl. obviously it's canon divergent, but this one just really nails lena. it's angsty and emotional and just SO good. the author describes it as "horny enemies to lovers" in their note and that really sums it up pretty well.

you're in my blood, like holy wine by @jazzfordshire - this one is one of my favorite AUs. it's a loose practical magic AU with witch!lena, but much more developed and fleshed out than in the show. not only does it have really well written supercorp, but it also showcases a really well done friendship between lena and sam. i'm gonna be real i'm very picky about AUs, but this one GOT me. i definitely recommend it.

i also highly recommend checking out all four of those authors' other works. robie has an AU that i really enjoyed, searidings has a fun little competitive supercorp one shot, jazzfordshire has one of my favorite smutty one shots, and AKAWWJJD has a mxy rewrite that is just wonderful.

i've read so many more that were really worth reading, so i highly recommend scrolling through the supercorp tag on ao3 and filtering out the results to find ones you might be into. i could've mentioned a bunch more that i enjoyed, but i figured i'd keep it to my top four and the honorable mentions because the authors all happened to have multiple i love. i've also got like, more than 40 open ao3 tabs currently, so i know my favorites list will definitely be growing.

#katie answers #supercorp #supergirl #supercorp fic recs #fic recs #ask: anonymous

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milla-frenchy · 11 days

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Morning waves

3k7 | Joel Miller x fem reader x Frankie Morales | ao3

Summary: you meet two men who are on a road trip. You like the same things: the ocean, surfing, dancing and having fun

Warnings: 18+ mdni. threesome MFM, praise kink, fingering, public sex, oral (m/f), piv, dp, anal play, rimming, anal, spit as lube, creampies

No age specified

a/n: this is a contribution to Jamie’s ocean challenge @mermaidgirl30 thank you for this great idea 👌🙏

I've wanted to write Frankie for a while, and even more so after reading “Down the hall” @frannyzooey 😍😍 and this challenge was perfect to introduce him as my new Pedro boy.

Dividers @saradika-graphics 🙏

@aurorawritestoescape thank you for beta-ing, for the ideas, and for holding my hand with this one, as always 💕 🫶

Masterlist

*********

The first rays of sunshine were already warming you through the windows of your car. You were driving towards the ocean, ready to enjoy its waves. Every morning, very early, you were going to your favorite surf spot. This morning like the others, a few other surfers were also present. Between each set, you were all waiting on your boards, straddling them, letting yourself be carried away by their calm movement.

“You’re impressive”, you heard behind you.

You turned around, and met the most beautiful, sweetest brown eyes you had ever seen.

“Frankie, another set is coming.” You didn't look at the man who had spoken, immediately turning your gaze towards the horizon and new waves that were forming. You surfed that set and a few more.

When you were returning to the beach, you saw the man called Frankie taking off his wetsuit. The man next to him was doing the same. They smiled at you, when you approached them.

“Hi! I’m Joel, and this is Frankie.”

“Hi, guys!”

“Nice waves!” Frankie’s smile was really sweet. And cute.

“Yeah! Where are you from? I’ve never seen you before. And with that drawl…Texas, I guess?”

Joel laughed and replied “yeah, Austin. We’re on a road trip. Coming from northern California, heading to the south. Are you from here?”

“Yeah, I live here. I’m on holidays, enjoying the ocean.”

“That’s great! Seems like heaven here. Do you know any cool bars? We’ve just arrived, and we’re gonna stay for some time in this place,” Frankie asked.

“Yeah, there’s ‘The lagoon’. I'm gonna be there around 6 p.m., if you wanna join me?

“Sure! We’ll see you there.”

You spent the evening with them at the bar. Frankie and Joel had been friends for a long time, they told you about their trip, their lives in Texas. Joel worked as a contractor and Frankie was an ex-military, doing jobs with Joel from time to time. They were nice, cool, and made you laugh a lot. They were not flirty nor pushy, and you felt good and safe in their company.

Joel had a certain self-confidence, and was more direct than Frankie. His brown hair was shorter. His smile was devastating. Every evening, when the three of you met again, he wore jeans and a blue or black T-shirt which accentuated his torso and biceps.

Frankie was a little shyer. His slightly longer hair called for your fingers with its brown curls. His eyes and smile were incredibly soft. He often wore lighter pants, gray or brown t-shirts. A cap that he only took off to surf. Both men were beautiful.

You spent the next evenings with them, dancing and drinking shots at The lagoon. Every day you looked forward to seeing them at the beach, then at the bar. They were doing pretty well at surfing, asking for some advice from time to time, and making great progress.

One night, the three of you were on the beach, hoping to catch some Northern Lights. And you weren't disappointed. The sky was colored with pink, purple and blue lights, while you were lying next to each other on the sand, a little closer than usual. And when Frankie kissed your forehead and Joel your cheek as you were lying on the blanket between them, you felt heat in your core. You saw them differently for the first time.

The Lagoon was crowded. You sat on a stool at the counter, sipping your cocktail until you saw Joel enter the bar. He smiled at you and you wondered how many hearts he had broken. He was so hot. He joined you, hugged you and said “hey, sweetheart” with his Texan drawl.

“Isn’t Frankie here?” you asked him.

“He should be soon. He went to get a tattoo.”

“What, now?”

“Yeah”, he laughed.

You two danced, his hands settled on your hips. Slightly more intimate than usual. He smelled good. He smelled like the sun and the beach. He ran his hand over your back, which your summer dress barely covered. And when your eyes met, something was different.

You walked back to the counter, and he was smiling as he was drinking his beer. His eyes were fixed on you.

“What?” You asked him, smiling too.

“You’re damn pretty, sweetheart.”

Your eyes widened slightly, hearing him. It was the first time he told you something like that. So directly. Even though last night, on the beach, the atmosphere was different between the three of you. Even though two minutes ago, when you were dancing, you felt the warmth of his fingers on your skin, and your hair stood up from the desire for him.

He waited for a few seconds, checking on your reaction. Took another sip. When he saw you smile at him again, he leaned towards you, his nose brushing against your cheek, his hand resting on your waist. You felt goosebumps again. Some electricity between you. And you saw in his eyes that he was feeling the same thing.

“Wanna have some fun tonight?”

You felt heat reach your cheeks but you nodded and murmured, “yeah.”

“Yeah?”

He got up, stood between your knees while you were still sitting on the stool, and leaned forward to kiss you. You felt your heart rate speed up. He placed his hands on your bare thighs and caressed them, slightly pushing the fabric up, as you ran your fingers over his biceps. Then he slipped one hand between your legs. Slowly. Stroking your inner thigh. You whimpered when his fingers brushed against your pussy through your panties.

“You want more, darlin’?”

“Yes, Joel...”

“You gonna let me finger you in here?” he asked, his cheek against yours. His soft beard against your skin.

“Yeah…”

He slid your panties to the side, and his fingers brushed against your folds, making you moan into his neck. He looked up and said, “hey, Frankie.”

You felt shy and tightened your thighs against his legs. He kissed your cheek then said in your ear, on the side where Frankie was standing to make sure he would hear “I’m sure he’d love to touch you too,” before looking back at you. His fingers were still brushing against your delicate skin, and you really wanted to feel him more. To calm the fire, burning you from the inside.

You looked at him, then turned your head towards Frankie. His stare was still soft, but not only. You saw the desire for you in his eyes.

“Do it Frankie”, you told him. At that moment you didn't care about anything else anymore. The crowded bar. The people who could see you, and wonder what the three of you were doing. Or knowing too well what you were doing.

“Are you wet, baby?” Frankie asked.

You nodded and whined, the second Joel pushed a finger in your core.

“She’s soaked”, Joel said, nuzzling your neck, and you bit your lip.

“Damn, baby,” Frankie moved closer, the two men now standing in front of you. When one of Frankie's fingers joined Joel's in your pussy, your fists clenched their shirts. One of them stroked your clit with his thumb, but you didn’t know who. It turned you on even more. Their fingers slid into your wetness, pumping your pussy at the same rhythm, and you tried to hold back your moans even if it was getting more and more difficult.

“You're gonna come for us?” You shook your head “I…I can’t. Not here. Too many people.”

“Forget about them. Soak our fingers, baby. And then we’ll have some time together in our van if you want.”

“Yeah…Yes. Fuck.” You felt their eyes fixed on you. They were close to you, so close, protecting you from the eyes of others. Your pussy tightened around their fingers and you were trembling more and more. You felt another thumb near your clit that soon replaced the other one, and whimpered. Your pussy was trickling, and they could have pushed more fingers in easily.

“Come for us, sweetheart. Right here, in this bar. God, you’re fucking hot.”

You bit your lip as you came on their fingers, your pussy clenching desperately on them. They kept fingering you through it, until one of them put your panties back in place, then your dress. You watched Joel lick his finger with a look full of desire, and your arousal increased even more.

“Take me to your van, please. I need…I need more”, you breathed.

Frankie kissed your cheek, and Joel placed his hand on the small of your back as you got off the stool. Your legs were shaky and he held your elbow until you reached the parking lot then the van. Frankie offered to come to the back with him, on the mattress that they had already set up for the night, without knowing how it would end. You both lay there as Joel started driving. You didn't know where and right now you didn't care. Frankie was already leaning towards you, kissing your cheek then your neck. Your fingers ran through his soft curls. His hand rested against your face at first, then he brought it to his mouth. Licking the finger you had come on, just as Joel had done a few minutes before.

“Damn baby, you taste so good. Can I go down on you?”

“What, now?”

“Yeah. I’ll make you feel good, I promise.”

“Fuck…Ok.”

The van was swaying on a bumpy road when Frankie knelt between your thighs, and took off your dress, then your panties. He brought them to his nose and breathed them slowly, keeping his eyes on you, and the vision was intoxicating. The way they wanted you was driving you crazy. He turned the front of his cap backwards, and lay down between your thighs. He growled as he licked a long stripe between your folds.

“Jesus Christ, Frankie…you lucky bastard”, Joel said.

Frankie was already lapping at your pussy, and he was good at it. So good that you already felt a new orgasm building, while he was drinking all your wetness, his thumb twirling on your clit.

“Frankie…oh my god”, you whimpered.

You heard Joel unzip his jeans and pull out his cock. “You’re so hot that Joel can’t help fisting his cock while driving, baby” he said, before licking your folds again.

“Fuck, of course I do. All these moans are killing me. How does she taste? Tell me.”

“The sweetest taste, man...” He grabbed your thighs to pull you closer to him. As if he wanted more, always more, and you couldn’t stop moaning.

“Jesus...” Joel growled, as you heard the sound of his wrist fucking his cock.

Your fingers were lost in Frankie’s brown curls, while his nose rubbed perfectly against your clit and his tongue roamed your pussy.

“Frankie…”

“Yeah baby, tell me.”

“Your fingers, please, need your fingers.”

“Like this, mmm?” he asked, pushing two fingers in you.

“Yeah…your tongue too, please.”

His lips surrounded your clit, sucking gently, before giving way to his tongue. His wrist gently pumped your pussy and you felt your wetness running down your folds to the sheets.

“Fuck, baby…I can hear the pretty little noises of your pussy from here, you’re so fucking wet.”

“I know, I know, oh my god, Frankie!” You squeezed his head between your thighs when you came, letting him lick your folds until you stopped shaking. The van's engine was off, but you didn't realize you had stopped. You heard the sound of the waves as Joel opened his door to join you in the back.

“Fuck sweetheart, look at that… he ate you good, huh?”

“Yeah, yeah…fuck”, you breathed out.

Frankie shifted aside slightly and Joel lay down, his shoulders between your knees. He caressed your folded thighs, and delicately licked your wetness, being careful not to stimulate your overly sensitive clit.

“You taste so fuckin’ good, darlin’. Lemme eat ya just a little, ok? “ he said, moving his hand up your sweaty stomach, to a breast that he grabbed. Frankie kissed your thigh, while he caressed your other breast. You moaned again, your stomach rising rapidly with your heavy breathing. Joel’s beard rubbed against your inner thighs. He ran his tongue flat through your folds, sometimes down to your tight ring. Before going back up again, tirelessly. You imagined their hard cocks and you couldn’t wait to feel them in you.

“You want us to fuck you, baby?”

You nodded, “yeah, need your cocks.”

“Damn, could do this for hours. How do you want us?”

“I huh… I don’t know, I’ve never done that…with two men.”

They looked at each other then Frankie said “we’re gonna undress and we’ll see how it goes, ok?”

“Yeah, seems good.”

“If you’re not comfortable with something, you tell us right away, ok? We’re all here to have fun. Ok, darlin’?”

You nodded and smiled. They were so considerate and careful with you. You helped Frankie unzip his pants and take them off, then his boxers, and held your breath when you saw his cock. “We’ll go slow, baby”. “We?” You widened your eyes and turned to Joel, already in his underwear, taking off his t-shirt. “Oh fuck”, you said when you saw his bulge. You brushed his crotch and he spread his thighs wider. He was so hard, and so big too. You whispered “fuck...” again, before getting on all fours, facing him. You took his cock out of his boxers, the precum glistening on his red tip. You spread it with your thumb and jerked his cock, while Frankie was caressing the roundness of your buttocks, kneeling behind you. You licked the tip, letting Joel’s taste run down your mouth and then your throat.

“You’re ready for me, baby?”

“Yes, Frankie.”

He nestled his cock at your entrance, pushing in. You whined when he thrust deeper, gripping your hips as leverage. And for a minute you didn’t move, Joel’s cock in your hand, catching your breath. Frankie kept thrusting until he bottomed out. Pushing on your walls. And you started to suck Joel’s cock, his hands on your head, but letting you lead the pace.

You moved your hips back and forth, fucking yourself on Frankie’s cock. He wasn’t moving, letting you lead too. Your mouth on Joel’s shaft followed the movement of your hips at the same pace as you impaled yourself on the cock, piercing you.

“Fuck, fuck. Sucking me so good.”

“Fuck, baby. You’re so tight. So good for my cock.” You loved how they were praising you. Frankie’s hands roamed your body. Your back, your waist, your hips, as your thumbs caressed Joel’s balls, your head still bobbing on his shaft, your lips gradually getting used to his size.

You pulled him out of your mouth and licked his tip, looking at him you asked, “Frankie, will you let Joel fuck me?”

“Of course, anything you want.”

You lay on your back, inviting Joel to come between your thighs. He lay there, his cock in his hand, and pushed in. Frankie lay against you, and turned your face towards him. Kissing you as Joel thrust in.

“Damn, sweetheart…Frankie was right, you’re so tight. Squeezing me so hard, fuck…”

You whined in Frankie’s mouth while Joel was kissing your neck. He thrust in slowly before pulling back. Repeating the movement endlessly, while your legs spread wide gave him full access. Frankie leaned down and took one of your breasts in his hand, sucking on the nipple, his lips wrapped around it. Joel gave you a forehead kiss, his thick cock buried in you. Sometimes Frankie would slide his hand up to your clit, rubbing it lightly, and your pussy would contract on Joel's cock, making him groan. Their mouths and hands were brushing your skin constantly.

They took turns between your legs, drawing two new orgasms out of you. Seeing them, feeling them fucking you, one then the other, was turning you on desperately and your pussy was weeping. When one of them was kissing you, searching for your tongue with his, the other was kissing your neck, your cheek, sucking a nipple. You loved feeling their mouths on you at the same time.

They fucked you, one then the other, and they never seemed to get tired, filling your pussy perfectly each in their own way. Until you wanted more, and needed more.

“More? Tell us what you want, sweetheart.”

“I want you both…at the same time.”

“Oh, baby. You want our two cocks filling your two holes?” said Frankie, his cock buried in your cunt.

“Yeah, I’d like to try…”

“It’s ok, baby. We’ll go slow.”

“Yeah. Frankie?”

Frankie nodded, pulling out of you.

“Get on me, sweetheart.”

Joel lay on his back and you straddled him, grabbing his cock and sinking on it. You brushed his cheek and kissed him, before pressing your chest against his, giving free access to Frankie.

He spread your buttocks, your ring was glistening by the wetness that had been flowing there continuously. He passed his thumb slowly, lingering very lightly over it, as you rolled your pelvis slowly towards Joel. Then Frankie leaned down and started to lick it, pointing his tongue against your tight muscle. His hands now gripping your ass, he softened it under the tip of his tongue. Sometimes dropping his saliva on it, and lightly pushing his thumb in. Then a little deeper. He did it patiently, taking his time to prepare you. He was feeling his cock twitching. Your head resting on Joel's shoulder, you were moaning continuously, overwhelmed by the cock in your pussy, and the tongue opening you little by little. They were so hot, they took care of you so well since the start of the evening at the Lagoon. Attentive to your desires, to your reactions. Slightly changing the pace or position depending on your respiration, the pressure of your hands.

Eventually, Frankie pulled away. “You still want it, baby?”

“Yes, yes. Just…go slow, please, Frankie.”

“Of course. Lemme wet my cock in her pussy a little, Joel”, he asked. You pulled away from Joel slightly and he pulled out, his cock rubbing against your clit. Frankie pushed his cock easily in your dripping pussy, fucking it with one hand on your hip, and his thumb on your ass. Joel placed his hand on your neck, his forehead against yours, and murmured “you gonna take us both, sweetheart?”

“Fuck, yeah…Yeah, I’m gonna take you both, oh my god I can’t believe it’s happening…”

Franck grabbed his cock in his hand, and positioned it against your ring.

“Kiss me, sweetheart”, Joel muttured, stroking your hair. You looked up at him, his hands cupping your cheeks before coming to press his lips to yours. Quickly, his tongue sought yours, just as Frankie pushed in. You felt the muscle resisting at first, then gradually giving up. You whined in Joel’s mouth, his tongue never stopping brushing yours. You knew he wanted to make you forget the pain. Then he nibbled one of your lips, before licking it. Kissing you again. Until Frankie bottomed out, his balls against Joel's cock. He didn't stay buried and pulled back as slowly, before thrusting in again.

“Oh, fuck. Baby…it’s so good, fuck…”

“I can feel your cock Frankie, damn…are you ok, sweetheart?”

You nodded, unable to speak. Overwhelmed by all these emotions you were feeling. Your body was in the middle of theirs, and you felt fulfilled. Their hands were all over your upper body. Frankie’s mouth placed a thousand kisses on your shoulder blades and the back of your neck. Joel's hands caressed your breasts, your ass, your thighs. You heard them grunt and moan, in turn or together. You felt a new orgasm building, from rubbing your clit against Joel's lower abdomen.

“I’m gonna come, I’m gonna come”, you whined.

“Come on baby, come again. Fuck, your ass is so good, baby.”

“Come on our cocks, sweetheart. Then we’ll fill you up. We’ll fill that pussy and that ass.”

“Oh fuck”, you whimpered, coming on their cocks, clenching them. You wondered if you hadn’t fainted, for a moment.

You heard Frankie growling, and Joel calling you a “good girl”, just before he pulsed as deep as possible in you, followed by Frankie.

You all froze, panting. Catching your breath. Then Frankie pulled back, placing one last kiss on your back. You pulled away from Joel after kissing him, and you lay against him. Frankie lay against you on the other side, spooning you, his hand on your hip. Their cum flowing from both of your sore holes.

You slept there, sometimes waking up during the night, feeling their bodies against yours or their arms around you. Snuggling against one of them then the other.

When the rays of the sun woke the three of you and Frankie opened the van door, you had a direct view of the ocean. Its color was perfect. The most beautiful blue. And also these pastel, pink colors of the sky, at dawn.

You spent the day with them. You surfed, took photos. Frankie’s freshly tattooed forearm with the word “adventure.” You looked at them so many times during that day. And every time your eyes met, you all blushed and giggled, thinking about the night you had spent.

You returned to the Lagoon, and didn't leave them until they finally gave up on the idea of going all the way to Southern California. They called you “our girl”. Their hands, tongues and cocks roaming every inch of your body, just as yours on theirs. They stayed with you until they had to return to Texas.

The day before, Frankie went to get another tattoo. Joel told you Frankie always got one at every place they visit, a tattoo of the best thing there. He showed it to you when he came back: a surfboard with your name on it. You hugged him so tight that he could barely breathe and couldn’t stop laughing, squeezed by your arms.

At the airport, they held you until the last minute. And your heart sank when they left.

A few months later, you were sitting at the same airport. Ready to board for Austin. So that they, in turn, could introduce you to their lives.

You looked at the sun through the large windows of the airport, and smiled. Life offers good surprises sometimes. Yours was Joel and Frankie.

***************

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