1. A writer who talks about her ideas more than she writes them and hides in the tags
2. She/Her | 27 | UTC -7 | Gemini | AO3 | BlueSky 🪶
3. I do not permit ageless blogs or minors to engage with my content. You will be blocked.
TAGS [ tags ] noun
1. Angel’s Demon Thoughts: General writing/ideas
2. Angel Reblogs: Reblogging my work
3. Angel Replies: Replying to lovely people
4. Angel Answers: Answered inbox messages
5. Angel Yaps: General yapping posts
Thanks for stopping by! I can't guarantee how active I'll be, but you might see something from me here or there! No requests just yet but feel free to send me a message when you wanna chat about ideas or drabbles if I post them!
Please do not plagiarize any of my written works and do not put my written works into any AI program/site.
Below the cut, I'll list a few of my faves and hyperfixations you might see on this blog (in no particular order but you'll likely see whatever I'm focused on at the moment just based on what I'm reblogging/writing most):
THINGS I MIGHT WRITE FOR:
DC
Far Cry 5
Final Fantasy XV
Jujutsu Kaisen
Marvel
Modern Warfare / Call of Duty
Overwatch
Pokemon
Resident Evil
Biased Faves from the Above: Dick Grayson, Faith Seed, Ignis Scientia, Gladiolus Amicitia, Nanami Kento, Loki Laufeyson, Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick, Johnny 'Soap' MacTavish, Cole Cassidy, Jill Valentine
ON HOLD/CURRENTLY AVOIDING SPOILERS (I know I know don't say it I'm late to the game):
Bleach
Bungo Stray Dogs
Naruto
Biased Faves from the Above: Shunsui Kyoraku, Renji Abarai, Izuru Kira, Doppo Kunikida, Gaara, Kankuro
THINGS I ENJOY AND MAY ENGAGE WITH BUT MAY NOT WRITE MYSELF AT THE MOMENT:
Dragon Age Inquisition/Veilguard
Genshin Impact
Mass Effect Trilogy
Mortal Kombat
Star Wars
Biased Faves from the Above: Iron Bull, Davrin, Kaeya Alberich, Zhongli, James Vega, Garrus Vakarian, Kenshi Takahashi, Tomas 'Smoke' Vrbada
This is obviously a very truncated list of my interests it's mainly just what I mostly tend to interact with on Tumblr most out of habit. But you'll see bits and bobs of other things I'm sure. Stardew Valley, Breath of the Wild, Rainbow Six Siege, Transformers, Critical Role, (dive into my deep roots of Twilight or Homestuck if we're feeling particularly neurospicy)...we'll see what we see.
And...just cause I listed who I tend to be biased towards and favor does not mean I don't appreciate the whole art gallery from time to time ✨
I may of sent this before but my wifi was messed up so I don't know if it went through, but!!! Can you draw 141 doing communal shower antics and maybe if you'll be soooo kind to bless me with some gaz stuff just doing anything on duty love him in your style, keep creating😘
he’s stupidly attractive and he knows it. that’s the worst part. he knows he fucking hot and he uses it to his advantage.
while you’re under him, he takes your hand, runs it down his bare body and watches you bite your lip. he lets you trace your fingers between his abs, circling them around the muscle while he chuckles lowly. still pushing back into you with his other hand heavy on your hip, kneading the plush that sat there.
when you start to move your hand on your own, he knows you’re too coherent. that he wants to get you hotter than you already were. he fucks a little rougher, pulling you back into his every thrust just to watch your breath hitch and your hand fall. dick taunts you by your ear as he leans over. his voice making you heady with how whiny and possessive he got. how much power he had in his movements that you could never really deny him when he made you feel like this.
“such a dirty girl,” sighing the words as his hands trail to your stomach. “letting me fuck you like this, shit—”
his hand meets with the bulge he made inside you. touching the depths and leaving it bare just to kiss your cervix again. it’s like he knows where to hit and how to hit it. exactly how to make you bend and squirm but also how to keep you pliant as he does it.
grayson is the type of enjoy how broken up you get at his movements too, purposefully prolonging the sensations that he’s memorized how you react. he wants to bring you to the absolute edge and then suddenly take it away because he likes how it ruins you. he loses it at how you whine and scratch at him. the sounds you make is what makes him continue until you finally cry and beg him to let you come. tears staining your cheeks at the overstimulation. that’s when he shushes you quietly and brushes your hair from your face to tell you he’ll give it to you. that he will stop being a tease and that he’s sorry.
though he says it like he’s not sorry at all.
when he kisses you it’s like all resemblance of yourself goes out the window. sometimes he uses it like a way you keep you quieter while he fucks you in his old bedroom at the manor. he whispers by your ear, you don’t wanna get caught, do you?
his hands spanning up your sides to hold you there and keep you right where he wants you. he knows exactly what he’s doing. although most of the time, he kisses you so he can feel how your breath shakes. lips locked on yours while he moves just a little faster right as you try to say something. you’ll open your mouth to speak, maybe pull back to breathe deeper when he hits a particularly sensitive spot. reaching as deep as he can while your lips part against his mouth and he laughs.
his stamina is absolutely insane. skilled and athletic like he was trained for this kind of thing. and fuck, he has the body to prove it. he doesn’t cum until you have enough times that you lose count. when you’re quite literally shaking and fucked out, that’s when he chases his own high. but that doesn’t mean he won’t paint you white when you beg for it. in fact, he’ll fuck you so full that it could gush out onto the sheets, making a wet spot from your mixed arousal. he loves how you look when he pushes on your stomach and lets it flood around him all over again. it’s like a ritual after patrol when he’s needy.
you’re hardly even surprised when he pulls you onto his lap and asks you to ride him but guides your hips the whole time. he praises you even when he’s doing the work. leaning up to kiss your chest and mumble about how good you’re doing. how he knows you’re tired but he loves you so much.
he’s equally sensual when you collapse onto his chest after the nth time. maneuvering you to your back to clean you up with his relentless tongue. too tired to do anything but mumble and melt into the mattress. then he’ll hold you to his chest while he puts something on the television and laughs at their jokes like he’s not even exhausted from what he’d just done to you.
cw: bicep biting, teasing, male whimpering, dry humping, fingering, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, talking you through it, hair pulling, he's described as big, back scratching, creampies, not proofread.
ⓘ Featuring how sexy Dick Grayson is for his pretty girl.
boyfriend!dick who muffles your moans with his bicep whenever you're staying over at his father's, cooing, "You need to be quiet" so his family won't find out how dirty you are, as if he isn't the one fucking into you so hard the headboard's slamming against the wall.
+ Bonus points: Whenever you finish, and he pulls back to see drool on his arm along with the teeth marks, he knows he did well.
boyfriend!dick who can spend hours teasing you before getting to work, with light brushes of his fingers up your thigh, light kisses to your lips, and rubbing the tip along your slit, but pulling back once you start begging him to just fuck you already.
Eventually, you wear each other down; you're moaning out his name & he's struggling not to finish in two minutes.
boyfriend!dick loves when you go down on him, fists clenching against the sheets as he struggles not to guide your head, biting down the sweetest moan every time you swirl your tongue around his blushing tip.
After he finishes in your mouth, he'll always wipe your lips clean & whisper how pretty you are in the shakiest, hottest tone known to man.
boyfriend!dick who tends to get a little needy & sometimes ends up dry humping you till he's creamed his boxers instead of just fucking you like he'd originally planned. Noting "it felt too good to stop" while letting out a choked laugh & burying his face in your throat.
He'll always joke about it afterwards. But it's kind of obvious at the moment how embarrassed he feels about it.
boyfriend!dick likes to finger you after a blowjob, scissoring you open on long fingers so he can stare at the wetness pooling on your skin while telling you just how sexy it looks to him & licks you clean after each orgasm.
He likes to give you at least two orgasms per one of his.
boyfriend!dick has grown used to your nails sinking into his back every time he bottoms out; he's even grown to like how every few thrusts bring the sweet sting of your nails scratching at him in sync with sharp moans.
boyfriend!dick who is well aware just how endowed he is & always takes it slow to let you adjust, making sure to whisper sweet little praises in your ear.
boyfriend!dick who has made himself well acquainted with your clit, happily goes down on you every time you're being bratty or not in a good mood, knowing his tongue can be an instant mood booster.
He always moans at the feeling of your nails scratching at his scalp, pulling & begging for more, loving the sensation of feeling your pleasure through the sharp tugs.
boyfriend!dick who has a bad pullout game & ends up accidentally filling you up more often than he'd like to admit. He's so embarrassed when he pulls out and sees his seed spilling out, but your fucked-out expression always makes him feel better about it.
cw: nightmares. soap with a poor appetite and/or bad mission recovery habits. disordered eating. dry heaving. Hurt/comfort. soapgaz (platonic or romantic)
Thinking about Soap who comes back from six weeks in the field without an appetite.
Six weeks on whatever they could find plus a rotation of MREs, bodies running on fumes and adrenaline and not much else. They all deal with it when they get back. Price eats everything in front of him for three days straight. Gaz sleeps a lot between three step meals. Ghost disappears somewhere and doesn't come out until he's ready.
Johnny doesn't eat. Johnny works, reviews, trains, and distracts himself throughout the day.
A week passes and he's still pushing food around his plate and drinking coffee like that's a meal. His face gets a new sharpness to it that Kyle doesn't like.
The first few times, Kyle stays quiet. They're still new together. Still figuring this out. It's not Kyle's place to tell a man how to handle his trauma.
The nightmares start, or Kyle starts hearing them, maybe not the same thing. The first one comes through the wall as a sound that gets choked on, swallowed down. Kyle lies in the dark and doesn't sleep for an hour. Then the third sound is of Soap's door closing and Kyle's sitting up and following him down the hall.
He finds Johnny on the bathroom floor, arm hooked over the rim of the tub, shaking like a cold dog. He's dry heaving into the air, body wrung out and insisting, that awful sound going on too long in the small tiled room. Kyle opens a cabinet in the low runner lights along the floor, runs a cloth under the cold tap and crouches behind Johnny and presses it to the back of his neck.
Johnny flinches. Then goes still. Then starts shaking again. Kyle keeps the cloth there.
It takes a while to stop.
"Sorry," Johnny says eventually, voice scraped raw.
"Don't," Kyle says.
He gets him up off the floor, a hand under his arm, and Johnny lets himself be moved. He walks him down the hall and sits him on the edge of his bed. Then reaches past him to the shelf and sets a small stuffed bear in his hands.
Johnny looks down at it.
Kyle leaves him for 12 minutes to to make rice.
He keeps it plain, keeps it soft, almost overcooked. Just a bit placed in a small bowl. He brings it back and Johnny is sitting exactly where he left him, bear held loose in both hands, staring at nothing. Kyle sits beside him and holds the bowl out.
Johnny takes it from him, letting the warmth seep through the ceramic and into his palms. Then he eats. Just slow, small bites, like his body has just enough left in it to do this one thing. At some point he just sets the spoon down and Kyle takes the bowl from him without comment and puts it on the nightstand.
Kyle eases him back against the pillows, one hand between his shoulder blades, and Johnny goes, a bit boneless now, the bear tucked against his chest between his arms. Kyle pulls the blanket up and then pulls him in. Johnny's back against his chest, arm over him. Johnny doesn't say anything. Doesn't make a joke of it or laugh at Kyle's sudden gentle manner.
Kyle lies there in the dark and listens to his breathing slow down and even out, feels the last of the tremors work their way out of him. The room is quiet. Neither of them are asleep yet but neither of them speak.
Kyle feels Johnny tuck in closer to his chest, curling in around the bear, burrowing under the blankets.
Kyle places his chin on Johnny's head and closes his eyes.
cw: disassociating, maybe absence seizures. very brief, very light, soft but interrupted smut. Hurt/comfort. TBI. soap x reader. (Another Whumpee!Soap piece what can I say. He is my muse.)
Johnny and his post-tbi disassociation, the distances and absences you've become familiar with.
How his smile fades at the dinner table, eyes drifting away to some distant place. His hands just... pausing over the dirt while you're both in the garden.
At first it broke your heart. The doctors had said 'be patient' but no one had explained what that meant.
No one had explained it would mean conversations stopping for minutes on end. No one had explained it would mean taking sharp objects from his hands just in case he forgot they were there. No one had said how much it would hurt to see your Johnny come back from wherever he goes and tears spring in his eyes. Scared, or lost, or angry. Or wherever it took him that moment.
You learn, slowly, that the best thing to do is wait. Sometimes you keep talking, gently. Sometimes you sit in silence with him. Sometimes you keep your hand steadily brushing through his hair—he'd started letting only you care for it since coming home from the hospital, slow nights spent cleaning around the bandages turned into your little routine. Sometimes just a hand over his, something to hold onto when he surfaces again.
Mostly though, it's become just... a part of your days. His and yours. They frustrate him still, but mostly it's better. It's okay.
That is until he's panting over you, lips pressed to your neck as he moves slowly. Hips thrusting between your legs, trying to bury himself and stay there forever where it's warm and safe.
And he pulls back to smile down at you. And you see it long before it happens. The gloss washing over. Bright blue eyes greying over.
And Johnny just.. stills.
"Johnny..." You manage, hand coming up to cup his face.
He's still for a long moment. Longer than usual by your count.
Your eyes sting before you can stop them. Hand brushing back Johnny's hair. The other stroking absently over his arm.
"John..." You try again, throat squeezing down around his name.
And finally he inhales. Blinking back to you. His eyes find yours. And that familiar realization passes through them. His forehead drops to your shoulder. He doesn't move for a moment.
"I'm sorry, Love. I'm so sorry—"
You feel him shift, like he's going to move to get up. You wrap your arms around him, holding him close.
"Shh don't apologize. Are you alright?"
He manages a nod.
"Want to keep going?"
He's still for a moment. His breath is warm, shakey against your chest.
Finally, he shakes his head.
"Alright," you whisper. "That's alright."
He moves slowly out from between your legs. Only moving as far as to lie next to you, head still buried in your neck.
You lie there for a little while, just breathing together. His weight against your side something solid to hold onto.
Your hand moves through his hair, slow and steady. The other rests against his arm.
His tears come gradually. He doesn't make a sound, just the wet against your skin, and the occasional unsteady breath.
At some point his grip on you shifts. Tightens, his fingers finding yours and holding.
You feel the moment his breathing evens out. A slow exhale. The tension leaving his shoulders by degrees.
You press your lips to his hair.
"Bath or shower?"
He breathes. Then, quietly: "Bath."
You ease yourself up and pad to the bathroom, running it warm. Not hot, he'd told you once, early on, that too much heat made it worse.
When you come back for him he's sitting on the edge of the bed, elbows on his knees. Staring at the floor. You can see the wet at the corners of his eyes he's still trying to hold back.
You stand in front of him and open your arms. He folds into you without a word, face pressing into your stomach. His shoulders shake.
You hold him and let him cry into you. Your own tears dripping from your cheeks to his head.
It takes a moment. Moving slowly from the bed to the filled tub. But eventually, you're both in the water. His back to your chest, your chin resting on his shoulder. His hands have found yours beneath the surface and he's holding on with both of his.
"Still here," you murmur.
His grip tightens.
You press your lips to his cheek. The corner of his jaw. The soft skin just below his ear. And then longer on the back of his neck.
"Love you," he says, voice rough and quiet.
"I know." You hook your chin on his shoulder again. "Love you too, Johnny."
how are you gonna be 31 and posting fandom content bro leave it to the teenagers
People 10 and 20 years older than me are writing your favorite fanfics, and drawing your favorite characters. You'd have no fandom without the people you think are 'too old' to have hobbies.
This mentality is so insanely frustrating. Why do teenagers think that people have to give up their hobbies, give up fun, when they reach a certain age? Like??
When I was a teenager writing fic, I remember finding out that one of my favorite authors was in her 50s and that just was SUCH a revelation for me!! What do you mean, 50 year olds can write fanfic?!? Does that mean I can write fics when I'm her age?? That's AWESOME! I seriously looked up to her so much. And now I'm 35 with a husband and kid, and I'm still writing fanfic and posting fandom content - and I have no plans of stopping!
If you try to drive 30+ people out of fandom, you're going to lose the backbone of said fandom!
The ageism in fandom is fucking insane. It’s strange that people seem to have the idea that fandom was created by and for teenagers… It was not. It was created by adults. How would we have ao3 if only teenagers were in fandom?
I don’t want to sound like I am hating on younger people in fandom, but god, y’all need to stop it with the ageism. You don’t have to give up what you love once you’re an adult. Honestly, the belief that you have to is pretty bad. It sounds like it would make people afraid of aging. Granted, modern society is so very afraid of aging.
Don’t give up what you love just because you’re an adult. You don’t have to. And don’t try to force others to do it either.
Teenagers don't have the resources and skills to build something like AO3, it has to be people with degrees and money doing that, and that translates to a 30+ crowd. But teenagers especially need the protection and legal advocacy that something like AO3 offers them.
Part of the reason the then 30- and 40-somethings who built AO3 did what they did was so that someone with as few resources and as little support as the average 15-year-old fic author can safely and comfortably share their fanfic and find fic to read.
When you attack and belittle older fans for daring to be fans, you're not just being cruel to people who share your hobby and write fic you enjoy, you're attacking the very same people who make your hobby possible for you in the first place.
anyway ghost vs price makes no sense to me. “you’ve broken a lot of rules, price” sorry were you not all members of the international war crimes and murder squad?
