#(or for another writer to pick up on that idea - wink wink)

[greenleaf4stuff]

Of Convenience 6.1

(all previous parts of "Of Convenience")

Adar x Celebrimbor (silverscars) political marriage AU, 6th snippet, part 1. Celebrimbor sets out to explore Adar’s camp and has a conversation with one of Adar's children.

Somehow, my snippets are getting far longer and more detailed than I intended. (This is shorter than the last one though!) This is mostly the set up for part two of this snippet, plus Celebrimbor making a new friend. Fear not, there is also some silverscars interaction in the beginning though (and there will be more in part 2 as well)!

Celebrimbor's day-to-day existance in the uruk camp had been surprisingly mundane so far, all things considered...aside from the world-shattering changes that were going on around it.

Adar had been a good host, and readily provided Celebrimbor with some basic comforts; a cot that he could sit and rest on, for example. It was placed close to Adar's own bedding, but not directly against it, which gave the elf at least some measure of privacy.

The uruk had even aquired some furs, both to use as throws and for Celebrimbor to wrap around his shoulders to keep warm during the chilly hours at night. The smith also had his own set of armor now - undoutably scavenged, at least in part, from unforunate elves or humans who had crossed paths with the uruk forces, but armor nonetheless.

However, as someone who usually worked long hours in his own forge and spent much of the rest of his time reading, writing or sketching, the elf found there was still something missing to keep his mind occupied.

The Lord Father himself didn't seem be overly interested in reading – or perhaps he simply didn't have the time for it. Either way, there were no books in his camp, and the few maps Adar used to plan his strategies had become quite uninteresting to study after some time.

Celebrimbor had been given some parchment and charcoal to busy himself with, but even that could not put him at ease; the last time he'd sketched, he'd planned out rings he should never have even considered making. His last letters had been full of lies directed at his high king and his dwarven friends.

The elf’s usual source of comfort failed to give him any of that as a result.

No, Celebrimbor felt restless, and so he ended up deciding that he would like to leave Adar's tent and walk around the vast encampments of the various uruk legions for instead. At least for a while.

He had notified his husband, of course – not because the other had demanded it or because Celebrimbor feared reproach, but because he wanted to avoid any misunderstandings. The trust between them had been strengthened by the recent talks with Galadriel, Elrond and, by extension, Gil-Galad, but it was still very delicate, and the smith feared it might be prone to breaking if tested too harshly.

It was a show of goodwill on his part, both to ask to see the encampment on his own and tell Adar why he wanted to go in the first place.

His request was, in turn, rewarded with a similar gesture of trust.

"Very well," Adar replied, sitting back from where they had eaten their meal together. The uruk seemed to have a particular appetite for raspberries of all things, but the selection he had his men heap onto his table ranged from roasted meats to onions, pickles, various fruits and even some potatoes. Celebrimbor might have eaten finer meals, but the food was more than passable and he hadn't gone hungry once since he had arrived as a fugitive from his own people.

So far, meals with Adar had been nothing short of...pleasant, overall, Celebrimbor could admit. The uruk might be brusque at times, but he was also well-spoken and thoughtful. It was clear he cared about the wellbeing of his children, and actually had both insight into some of the elven houses as well as elvish poetry - like Rúmil.

The smith couldn't deny Adar fascinated him, and judging by the other's interest in Celebrimbor's opinions, the curiosity was mutual.

The smith was pulled from his ponderings when the uruk continued to speak.

"I think it will be safest if you don't stray too far from the tent – we must keep in mind that he is still at large, after all, and has no doubt set his sights on finding you. I'd suggest we don't make it too easy for him to do so." There was a fine dusting of humor in Adar's words – slightly sardonic, but humor nonetheless. Celebrimbor quirked up his lips in response and nodded.

"I very much agree with that. I'll stay closeby," he replied. Adar's resulting nod was curt, but Celebrimbor could tell by his posture that the uruk felt lighter knowing that they were of the same mind on this matter.

"Good. Two guards will accompany you, for the same reason. And because you might get lost - our camp is not as tidy as an elven settlement, you see."

Celebrimbor couldn't help but smile brightly. "I sure hope not! While our conversations are certainly very enjoyable, I need something to occupy my feet and my mind for a change. I have rarely been so stationary before. And I am actually quite curious to see how your people have set up their mobile workshops."

If the smith wasn't entirely mistaken, Adar looked a tad surprised at Celebrimbor's response.

"In that case, be my guest," the uruk finally settled on, and got up from the table. "I will call upon my two most trusted lieutenants to accompany you. Give me a moment to summon them."

"Thank you, Adar," Celebrimbor replied, and could have sworn that the uruk almost missed his next step as he walked towards the entry of his - their? - shared tent. 

This was how, not much later, the elf found himself flanked by Glûg and another uruk as he stepped out into the camp. He had no idea where to go, and therefore just let his feet carry him wherever they pleased.

The encampment was decidedly busy, even if Celebrimbor had the distinct impression that there was some underlying method to the chaos going on around him. The uruk were carrying supplies back and forth, cooking stews over open fires, repaired tents and clothes and utensils, and he could even see a group of them train together a little way off in the distance. His senses eagerly took in the various sights, sounds and smells as he strolled about.

After a while, there was a sharp grunt to the side of him. As Celebrimbor turned around, he saw a group of uruk eye him with suspicion and back away from him as he looked in their direction. He recognized some of them from when he’d- well. 'Cussed out his recent bad luck', to put it mildly.

He stopped and flinched the slightest bit when the group took another step back from him, hands on their weapons.

The smith inclined his head and wrung his hands as tried to negate some of their agitation. "Hello. Er. I apologize, again, for my recent outburst. I see I must have frightened you. That was...not my intention."

As if in answer, the group quickly continued on their way, almost scurrying until they were out of Celebrimbor’s line of sight.

He turned a questioning look at Glûg, who had watched the proceedings in silence. The smith was still astounded at how tall the uruk was – he towered over most of his peers and even Celebrimbor himself. "Have I really been that frightening to them? I assumed your people would have seen little more than an elf losing his marbles when- that happened."

Glûg didn’t have any eyebrows, per se, but still managed to raise them in response. After a brief pause, he finally admitted. "It’s less about being frightened," then he stopped, as if contemplating whether or not he should continue, before he seemed to come to a conclusion.

"Some of us had been...unhappy, with Adar’s decision to march onto the elven city. He insisted. Having an elf of all people make him change course has been a cause for confusion."

Celebrimbor was aware that he was gaping at the uruk in surprise, but he couldn’t make himself care. "You- I- Oh," he finally settled on, rather ineloquently. He tilted his head at the uruk. "So this marriage between him and me, it’s- actually something your people are glad about, too?"

He hadn’t been quite sure, to be perfectly honest. Seeing their leader bind himself to an elf and making it clear he had no intention of occupying his city beyond ridding it of the evil within, that could have been an incredibly unpopular opinion – even with how loyal the uruk were to their leader.

Glûg nodded, solemn, and then looked across the camp. As Celebrimbor followed in the same direction, his eyes landed on a group of uruk women, sitting together as they spun fabric or tinkered about, some of them with bundles on their chests or in their arms.

"He’s a new father," Celebrimbor’s other guard supplied, voice flat, and the smith saw and heard Glûg growl at his fellow lieutenant in response.

That- certainly explained a lot. The reluctance to have Adar walk into a bloody war with the elves, all to face Sauron, and the way Glûg was now so open with his thoughts on the matter. The uruk, too, had families they cared about. Families that had accompanied the soldiers right up to the edge of a potential battlefield. It made something in the smith soften.

"Congratulations," he said towards Glûg, voice gentle, and smiled when the other turned his attention back towards him. "I understand why it would make you uneasy, that Adar intended to seek an open conflict, then."

He paused, and his own eyes drifted across the camp as well. "I too, am terribly worried about the wellbeing of my people. I might not have children, but my subjects are very dear to me. I have endured too many losses in my life already," and then he faced Glûg again.

Perhaps it was all within Celebrimbor’s mind, but he felt as if some kind of understanding was passing between the two of them. After several moments, Glûg turned his head about in a surprisingly bird-like manner, and then leaned closer to the elf.

"Do you believe there is actually a chance?" he asked, lowly, "That elves and uruk might coexist without violence?"

Celebrimbor stopped and gave himself a moment to ponder his answer. "It will surely be difficult and not without missteps from either side. But...Adar believes it to be possible. As do I. We have convinced the elven leaders to try at least. So yes, I do believe there is a chance. If we can manage to defeat Sauron."

Glûg and the other lieutenant hissed at the mention of the Deceiver’s name, but otherwise, it seemed the elf’s words had put them at ease. Their little trio soon continued their walk through the camp – though this time, Glûg was beginning to point out different areas, and began to instruct the smith on the proceedings was taking place there as he guided Celebrimbor on an unknown path among the tents and campfires.

The elf smiled, and let himself be lead along, listening intently – particularly when Glûg mentioned that the uruk had forges nearby.

[thewriteadviceforwriters]

25 Prose Tips For Writers 🖋️✨ Part 1

Hey there!📚✨

As writers, we all know that feeling when we read a sentence so beautifully crafted that it takes our breath away. We pause, reread it, and marvel at how the author managed to string those words together in such a captivating way. Well, today I'm going to unpack a few secrets to creating that same magic in your own writing. These same tips I use in my writing.

But before I begin, please remember that writing is an art form, and like any art, it's subjective. What sounds beautiful to one person might not resonate with another. The tips I'm about to share are meant to be tools in your writer's toolkit, not rigid rules. Feel free to experiment, play around, and find what works best for your unique voice and style.

Power of Rhythm 🎵

One of the most overlooked aspects of beautiful prose is rhythm. Just like music, writing has a flow and cadence that can make it pleasing to the ear (or mind's ear, in this case). Here are some ways to incorporate rhythm into your writing:

a) Vary your sentence length: Mix short, punchy sentences with longer, flowing ones. This creates a natural ebb and flow that keeps your reader engaged.

Example: "The sun set. Darkness crept in, wrapping the world in its velvet embrace. Stars winked to life, one by one, until the sky was a glittering tapestry of light."

b) Use repetition strategically: Repeating words or phrases can create a hypnotic effect and emphasize important points.

Example: "She walked through the forest, through the shadows, through the whispers of ancient trees. Through it all, she walked with purpose."

c) Pay attention to the stressed syllables: In English, we naturally stress certain syllables in words. Try to end important sentences with stressed syllables for a stronger impact.

Example: "Her heart raced as she approached the door." (Stronger ending) vs. "She approached the door as her heart raced." (Weaker ending)

Paint with Words 🎨

Beautiful prose often creates vivid imagery in the reader's mind. Here are some techniques to help you paint with words:

a) Use specific, concrete details: Instead of general descriptions, zoom in on particular details that bring a scene to life.

Example: Instead of: "The room was messy." Try: "Crumpled papers overflowed from the waste bin, books lay spine-up on every surface, and a half-eaten sandwich peeked out from under a stack of wrinkled clothes."

b) Appeal to all five senses: Don't just describe what things look like. Include smells, sounds, textures, and tastes to create a fully immersive experience.

Example: "The market bustled with life. Colorful fruits glistened in the morning sun, their sweet aroma mingling with the earthy scent of fresh herbs. Vendors called out their wares in sing-song voices, while customers haggled in animated tones. Sarah's fingers brushed against the rough burlap sacks of grain as she passed, and she could almost taste the tang of ripe oranges on her tongue."

c) Use unexpected comparisons: Fresh similes and metaphors can breathe new life into descriptions.

Example: Instead of: "The old man was very thin." Try: "The old man was a whisper of his former self, as if life had slowly erased him, leaving behind only the faintest outline."

Choose Your Words Wisely 📚

Every word in your prose should earn its place. Here are some tips for selecting the right words:

a) Embrace strong verbs: Replace weak verb + adverb combinations with single, powerful verbs.

Example: Instead of: "She walked quickly to the store." Try: "She hurried to the store." or "She dashed to the store."

b) Be specific: Use precise nouns instead of general ones.

Example: Instead of: "She picked up the flower." Try: "She plucked the daisy."

c) Avoid clichés: Clichés can make your writing feel stale. Try to find fresh ways to express common ideas.

Example: Instead of: "It was raining cats and dogs." Try: "The rain fell in sheets, transforming the streets into rushing rivers."

Play with Sound 🎶

The sound of words can contribute greatly to the beauty of your prose. Here are some techniques to make your writing more musical:

a) Alliteration: Repeating initial consonant sounds can create a pleasing effect.

Example: "She sells seashells by the seashore."

b) Assonance: Repeating vowel sounds can add a subtle musicality to your prose.

Example: "The light of the bright sky might ignite a fight."

c) Onomatopoeia: Using words that sound like what they describe can make your writing more immersive.

Example: "The bees buzzed and hummed as they flitted from flower to flower."

Art of Sentence Structure 🏗️

How you structure your sentences can greatly affect the flow and impact of your prose. Here are some tips:

a) Use parallel structure: When listing items or actions, keep the grammatical structure consistent.

Example: "She came, she saw, she conquered."

b) Try periodic sentences: Build suspense by putting the main clause at the end of the sentence.

Example: "Through storm and strife, across oceans and continents, despite all odds and obstacles, they persevered."

c) Experiment with sentence fragments: While not grammatically correct, sentence fragments can be powerful when used intentionally for emphasis or style.

Example: "She stood at the edge of the cliff. Heart racing. Palms sweating. Ready to jump."

Power of White Space ⬜

Sometimes, what you don't say is just as important as what you do. Use paragraph breaks and short sentences to create pauses and emphasize important moments.

Example: "He opened the letter with trembling hands.

Inside, a single word.

'Yes.'"

Read Your Work Aloud 🗣️

One of the best ways to polish your prose is to read it aloud. This helps you catch awkward phrasing, repetitive words, and rhythm issues that you might miss when reading silently.

Edit Ruthlessly ✂️

Beautiful prose often comes from rigorous editing. Don't be afraid to cut words, sentences, or even entire paragraphs if they don't serve the overall beauty and effectiveness of your writing.

Study the Masters 📖

Please! Read widely and pay attention to how your favorite authors craft their prose. Analyze sentences you find particularly beautiful and try to understand what makes them work.

Practice, Practice, Practice 💪

Like any skill, writing beautiful prose takes practice. Set aside time to experiment with different techniques and styles. Try writing exercises focused on specific aspects of prose, like describing a scene using only sound words, or rewriting a simple sentence in ten different ways.

Remember, that developing your prose style is a journey, not a destination. It's okay if your first draft isn't perfect – that's what editing is for! The most important thing is to keep writing, keep experimenting, and keep finding joy in the process.

Here are a few more unique tips to help you on your prose-perfecting journey:

Create a Word Bank 🏦

Keep a notebook or digital file where you collect beautiful words, phrases, or sentences you come across in your reading. This can be a great resource when you're looking for inspiration or the perfect word to complete a sentence.

Use the "Rule of Three" 3️⃣

There's something inherently satisfying about groups of three. Use this to your advantage in your writing, whether it's in listing items, repeating phrases, or structuring your paragraphs.

Example: "The old house groaned, creaked, and whispered its secrets to the night."

Power of Silence 🤫

Sometimes, the most powerful prose comes from what's left unsaid. Use implication and subtext to add depth to your writing.

Example: Instead of: "She was heartbroken when he left." Try: "She stared at his empty chair across the breakfast table, the untouched coffee growing cold."

Play with Perspective 👁️

Experiment with different points of view to find the most impactful way to tell your story. Sometimes, an unexpected perspective can make your prose truly memorable.

Example: Instead of describing a bustling city from a human perspective, try describing it from the point of view of a bird soaring overhead, or a coin passed from hand to hand.

Use Punctuation Creatively 🖋️

While it's important to use punctuation correctly, don't be afraid to bend the rules a little for stylistic effect. Em dashes, ellipses, and even unconventional use of periods can add rhythm and emphasis to your prose.

Example: "She hesitated—heart pounding, palms sweating—then knocked on the door."

Create Contrast 🌓

Juxtapose different elements in your writing to create interest and emphasis. This can be in terms of tone, pacing, or even the literal elements you're describing.

Example: "The delicate butterfly alighted on the rusted barrel of the abandoned tank."

Use Synesthesia 🌈

Synesthesia is a condition where one sensory experience triggers another. While not everyone experiences this, using synesthetic descriptions in your writing can create vivid and unique imagery.

Example: "The violin's melody tasted like honey on her tongue."

Experiment with Sentence Diagrams 📊

Remember those sentence diagrams from school? Try diagramming some of your favorite sentences from literature. This can give you insight into how complex sentences are structured and help you craft your own.

Create a Sensory Tour 🚶‍♀️

When describing a setting, try taking your reader on a sensory tour. Move from one sense to another, creating a full, immersive experience.

Example: "The old bookstore welcomed her with the musty scent of aging paper. Dust motes danced in the shafts of sunlight piercing the high windows. Her fingers trailed over the cracked leather spines as she moved deeper into the stacks, the floorboards creaking a greeting beneath her feet. In the distance, she could hear the soft ticking of an ancient clock and taste the faint bitterness of old coffee in the air."

Use Active Voice (Most of the Time) 🏃‍♂️

While passive voice has its place, active voice generally creates more dynamic and engaging prose. Compare these two sentences:

Passive: "The ball was thrown by the boy." Active: "The boy threw the ball."

Magic of Ordinary Moments ✨

Sometimes, the most beautiful prose comes from describing everyday occurrences in a new light. Challenge yourself to find beauty and meaning in the mundane.

Example: "The kettle's whistle pierced the quiet morning, a clarion call heralding the day's first cup of possibility."

Play with Time ⏳

Experiment with how you present the passage of time in your prose. You can stretch a moment out over several paragraphs or compress years into a single sentence.

Example: "In that heartbeat between his question and her answer, universes were born and died, civilizations rose and fell, and their entire future hung in the balance."

Use Anaphora for Emphasis 🔁

Anaphora is the repetition of a word or phrase at the beginning of successive clauses or sentences. It can create a powerful rhythm and emphasize key points.

Example: "She was the sunrise after the longest night. She was the first bloom of spring after a harsh winter. She was the cool breeze on a sweltering summer day. She was hope personified, walking among us."

Create Word Pictures 🖼️

Try to create images that linger in the reader's mind long after they've finished reading. These don't have to be elaborate – sometimes a simple, unexpected combination of words can be incredibly powerful.

Example: "Her laughter was a flock of birds taking flight."

Use Rhetorical Devices 🎭

Familiarize yourself with rhetorical devices like chiasmus, antithesis, and oxymoron. These can add depth and interest to your prose.

Example of chiasmus: "Ask not what your country can do for you – ask what you can do for your country." - John F. Kennedy

Even the most accomplished authors continue to hone their craft with each new piece they write. Don't be discouraged if your first attempts don't sound exactly like you imagined – keep practicing, keep experimenting, and most importantly, keep writing.

Your unique voice and perspective are what will ultimately make your prose beautiful. These techniques are simply tools to help you express that voice more effectively. Use them, adapt them, or discard them as you see fit. The most important thing is to write in a way that feels authentic to you and brings you joy.

Happy writing, everyone! 🖋️💖📚 - Rin T

Hey fellow writers! I'm super excited to share that I've just launched a Tumblr community. I'm inviting all of you to join my community. All you have to do is fill out this Google form, and I'll personally send you an invitation to join the Write Right Society on Tumblr! Can't wait to see your posts!

[h50europe]

8.06 post mortem - Buck/Tommy - General - 9-1-1 Zombified

Many of us wondered why a cut emergency case from episode 7.04 was used. A novelty and if you look closely, you'll notice that the characters appeared very different from how they did in the rest of season 8, and the scenes felt erratic. This inconsistency is reminiscent of the writing from Andrew Meyers, who also wrote episode 7.04. However, in that episode, he had a co-writer who was clearly more talented. Episode 8.06 was poorly written compared to 7.04. Alone the scene in the beginning. Buck could have pointed out that this chick was interrupting the date he had with his boyfriend. Tommy then mentioned the Kinsey scale

Our walking encyclopedia had no idea what his boyfriend was talking about. Seriously? Also, Buck doesn't want to buy a present for their 6-month anniversary, and Tommy gives him 2 Lakers baseball cards and awkwardly mentions that Buck could go with Eddie? Is this dinner supposed to be romantic? Well, they could have gone to McDonalds. Meyers should have consulted his co-writer at this point; we're heading straight for disaster. Then Tim had this wonderful idea with Abby and thought it was hilarious. The guy's humour isn't just weird, it's kind of crude. Abby never mentioned that she went out with another guy from the 118. Isn't that weird? No one ever knew about it? Not Hen, not Chim? For two years? Did Tommy keep her locked in his basement? This plot is so poorly constructed that it's cringe-worthy at best. And that's when Himbo's jaw hit the floor… along with the audience.

The only good scene was Josh's GLEE speech. And I may be reading between the lines, but I felt that the way Josh talked about post and past GLEE and how Buck can't blame Tommy for his actions because times were different was a wink and a nod to the haters. I really had the impression that this was a cunning move to address why Tommy was who he was back then and why he has changed now.

But seconds later I nearly choked on my drink, and I can tell you it's orgasmic when a sip of Pepsi comes out of your nose, when Maddie said, "She wondered how many men Abby had turned gay." Because I was chatting to a friend before I watched the episode and I almost said the same thing. I live in Europe, so I watched it the next day, knowing what was coming, but nothing about that particular scene. Which, frankly, was terrible.

Forgive me for ignoring the emergencies in this episode. They were repetitive, to say the least, just with different protagonists.

So far we have a recycled episode, a recycled ex, a recycled emergency and a recycled scenario, Maddy is pregnant (hooray). It begins to reek of decay.

Brownie points to those who aren't already traumatised or bored to death. Now for the highlight: Tommy shows up at Buck's apartment in a great mood. He is looking forward to a date with his friend and hot sex as the icing on the cake (that's what I had in mind). Tommy gets suspicious when Buck asks him to sit down. It doesn't take long before he pulls out his phone and shows his friend photos of Abby and a younger Buck. This is followed by an awkward explanation of why he didn't share the news in the restaurant, and Tommy's reaction is a little awkward too. But this is only the overture to the worst retconning I have seen on television in a long time. The coincidence is swept under the carpet in the blink of an eye, and now it gets creepy.

Compare the scene in the coffee shop with this one. It has the same structure, bit by bit. Buck invites Tommy to the wedding in the coffee shop, and Tommy says, "What?" Here it is: "I want you to move in with me." We have a mashup of the first kiss and the coffee shop scene, and Oliver plays it similarly. The worst part is when Tommy turns into his zombie version. Excellently played by Lou. No doubt about it. He gave it his all. He maimed that shitty script, which felt like Meyers had raided AO3, picked the worst written fics and went for the most cringe-worthy insult he could find for a bisexual. "I was your first, but I won't be your last." Hello? This topic only comes to Tommy's mind after he is asked to move in together? I was expecting "I can't move in with you because I wouldn't know where to put my car lift and Muay Thai studio". No, it's because all the trust and love Tommy put in Buck is wiped out by the retconning of Tommy's personality. He succumbs to total chaos. This is not the Tommy we met in S7 and certainly not the one we met in 8.05. Fuck me! It didn't make sense. We would have needed a lot more background information ON SCREEN to make it believable. A scene from Tommy's past. Who hurt him so badly? It wasn't Abby. She only managed to traumatise Buck. Was it after he met Abby? Was it another guy?

Hello writers, are you still in your right mind? We have no clues. Neither the loyal fans and certainly not the new ones. You're reducing a character to a sad laughing stock. You rob him of all his merits, which you had Buck recite like a poem in school. And then you expect us to believe it? You steamroll over everything that's been painstakingly built up to this episode? It's actually convenient, I let the whole relationship run off screen. We don't see any flying lessons together, no training together, no cosy get-togethers in front of the TV, no exchange of affection, nothing. It's all headcanon. Guys, I've seen shows and movies where a sequence like this lasted five minutes and you knew where the couple stood. Maybe a flashback or two into Tommy's past would have helped. But no, instead the audience had to put up with the same old nonsense. A ridiculous story about an urn, a guy who sneezes and his intestines fall out, a kid who doesn't fall down a drain but slips down a pipe. They give us nothing, but we're supposed to believe everything, retconning is so great. If any of us wrote fanfiction like that, we'd be banned from AO3. And as if that wasn't enough, Tommy stands up and says, "Believe me, I didn't see this coming either. Tell me, were you on drugs when you were writing? There are a thousand ways to respond sensibly to "Let's move in together" without turning it into such a dumpster fire. The crowning glory of all this madness is when Tommy says "I'll see you around Buck" instead of Evan (the same words he said to Evan when he left him standing outside the restaurant on their first date). Where did that come from? It's as if Tommy had lost all respect for his lover, or as if he wanted to punch him in the face while he was already on the ground. We, the viewers, also had this feeling. And Tommy's behaviour was completely disturbed. I wonder if he checked himself into a mental facility right after that.

I won't say anything about the rest of the episode because I'm a polite person.

Conclusion: Please take the pen away from this lunatic and never let him write anything again or give him a co-writer like in 7.04. The guy is totally unhinged.

Extra brownies, you made it!

[umnitsa]

Santa has had enough of Christmas (2)

Summary: You're not at home, but he finds you. And gives you a special gift. *wink*

A/N: So, yeah. I couldn't stop thinking of them, so there is more, 2 years later. Some things are very inspired by earlier Santa fic, we had some lovely writers who deactivated, but their ideas live on. Thank you Kitty! <3 <3 <3

Pairing: Santa x Naughty!reader (fem)

CW: a quickie, with your friends in the other room. And more christmas cheer!

Not proofread, and you guys know english is my second language, so there.

I really hope you had a good, peaceful eve, and I wish you a peaceful day today. Christmas can be harsh, but we can always do whatever the fuck we want, even defile Santa! XD *giant hugs*

You sighed softly, watching your friends chatting around the table. You wish you were home, getting ready to wait for Santa, your toys charged and ready. You spent the whole year thinking of him, wet and desperate…

But your friends needed you. 2024 was a particularly rough year for everybody, and when your friends asked gently if you would like to join them on the 24th… You couldn’t say no.

You couldn’t be a good girl for Santa Claus, but you surely were a good girl for your friends.

And now they were laughing and giggling, sadness, hardships forgotten, the heavy weight of the holiday gone. You huffed.

Only one good fuck a year and you gave it up for them. If they only knew.

So after almost a year of writing dirty letters to Santa Claus, you sent a heartfelt one. You told him you would be with your friends, followed by paragraphs on how would you miss him, and dirty fantasies for the next year.

You hoped he wouldn’t mind.

In your heart, you were sure the action would put you in the nice list anyway.

So you would probably get home to a cute gift. No Daddy Christmas cock for you this year.

“Sorry guys, I’m feeling a bit tired.” You said softly, standing up, some weird restlessness commanding you. “I’m going to lie down a bit, take a nap…”

“Take my room!” The owner of the house said, smiling. “And lock the door, some of us here are drunk and we have pranksters at this table.”

“Santa isn’t coming for any of you this year, you assholes!” You laughed and went to the bedroom, locking the door anyway. You would hate to wake up to a thousand ridiculous pictures of you sleeping, some screaming and sharpie doodles all over your face.

You heard the lock, then soft bells rang behind you, as the warm breeze moved the curtains. You shook your head, smiling to yourself. He wouldn’t…

Golden sparkles swirled from the window, materializing the red wearing giant in front of you.

“Santa!”

“My favorite little shit.” He chuckled, silver waves framing his crooked smirk. Santa took a few moments appreciating your expression, a mix of excitement and surprise, then chuckled again. “You thought I wouldn’t come? After another year of you tormenting me with the dirtiest shit I’ve ever read…”

Santa Claus huffed, playfully, throwing the sack on the floor then taking off his gloves and throwing over it. He prowled in your direction, opening his jacket.

“And I can’t skip the fucking letters, no. I have to read them in my workshop, in front of all those fucking elves.” He towered over you and you stepped back, against the door. “They keep stealing the damn things. They all giggle, looking at me weird. Like I am the pervert.”

He picked you up and pressed you against the door, his thick thigh between your legs and the weight of his body against you keeping you slightly off the floor. He had you pinned.

“You really thought I wouldn’t look for you?” He growled against your lips, his blue eyes tinkling with playful anger. You gasped, leaning towards him, but he pulled slightly back, not allowing you to kiss him. “After a year of disrespect? I should fuck you in front of your friends, show them what you really want for Christmas, how much of a pervert you are.”

You moaned, feeling yourself pulse, so warm and so wet.

“Ho, ho, ho.” He chuckled low, releasing you and stepping back. His face a picture of mirthful surprise. “Really? Whoa.” He sits on the bed, tutting, shaking his head. “You are shameless. I don’t know what I expected. I can smell you, filthy little slut.”

You kneel between his legs and nuzzle his cock over his pants. You lick the leather, whimpering softly. Santa pets your hair.

“You can’t help yourself, can you?” He coos, softly, his voice gentle and loving. “Aaaaw, look at you. I didn’t know little shits get in heat too. So desperate.”

“Fuck.” You gasp, scrambling to open his pants.

“Language.” He chuckled, leaning back, making the process easier for you. His pants are large, and he did come prepared (no suspenders, the devious old man). The fabric easily falls open, showing his cock, hard and pulsing precome. No underwear either. You look at him, wide eyed, then at his cock. “It turns you on, doesn’t it? Disrespecting me. Writing those letters, asking Santa to stuff your stocking.”

You grab him with both hands, your hungry mouth descending over his cock, quickly swallowing as much as you can.

“We don’t have much time.” Santa said, pulling your hair. “Come sit on my lap, quick.”

You stand up, pulling your dress up; he grabs your hips and turns you to the door. You feel one big thumb pulling your panties aside, then the hands on your hips press you down. You feel him positioning himself, and like magic, he slides perfectly into you.

A loud moan escapes your mouth and your friends stop laughing for one second. You both stop, panting, alert. The noise outside restarts and Santa breathes, relieved.

It’s quick and hard, almost brutal, his hands tightly grabbing your hips, pulling you up and down… You felt like a doll, like his little toy. You come quickly, eyes rolling back. The only noises in the room are his soft grunts and the loud noises of your thighs slapping against his, punctuated by wet sloppy sucking sounds.

He keeps hitting that delightful place inside of you. You come a second time and he doesn’t stop until he’s covering your insides with merry, creamy white.

Santa nuzzles your ear gently, his soft beard and hair brushing against your ear. His arms wrap around you, holding you tightly against his chest.

“Now you’re filled with christmas cheer.” He whispers against your ear.

“You won’t let me forget that, right?” You chuckle, feeling like you’re in slow motion. You rest your head against his shoulder, blushing.

“You’re going back to the party with christmas cheer dripping down your thighs, little slut.” He laughed very quietly, your body shaking with his. It gave you a warm, soft feeling in your chest; you placed your hands over his, petting him. “I find it funny that’s what makes you blush. Not só shameless after all.”

“In my defense, I was cockdumb and completely fucked out. It was a ridiculous post orgasm joke.” You sighed, enjoying the feel of his body against yours. He shrugged, squeezing you tighter.

“You need to stop asking for these things.” Santa said, and you could hear he was smiling. It made you smile too. “It’s wrong on so many levels.” You heard the soft ho-ho-ho against your ear.

“Do you really want me to stop?” You teased, as you did every year.

“No.” He whispered.

“What does that say about you?”

“We both know under all this I’m just a dirty old man.” He said, gently pulling from you, sitting you on the bed.

Santa stands up and quickly arranges his clothes.

“They are coming to check on you.” He grabs his sack and his gloves. He reached quickly inside the sack and pulled a large package wrapped in stripped gift wrap, with a red bow. The tag said ‘To: Little shit. From: Santa.’ He placed it by your side, smirking. “This is my gift for you.”

He cups your cheek gently, looking into your eyes, and smiled. After a moment, he gently leaned over, kissing your forehead, then your lips. Stepping back, he tapped his nose with a wink and vanished through the window in a flurry of golden sparks. You heard a knock on the door; a friend calling you to open the gifts.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Your friends never laughed that hard. You eagerly tore the wrapping, to reveal a beautiful red box. Taped to the top, a card with elegant writing.

He sees you when you're sleeping And he knows when you're awake He knows if you've been bad or good So be good for goodness sake

Inside, a candy cane striped dildo; you could recognize that shape anywhere. Over the head there was a carefully placed small decoration that clearly was supposed to represent mistletoe. There was also lube, a thick, stuffed envelope and a mobile phone.

“I can’t believe you went through all this trouble for yourself. Who gave you this?”

”Santa.” You laughed, waving the tag, then storing it inside the box. You couldn’t wait to read that letter.

[justforbooks]

She’s Always Hungry by Eliza Clark

A bona-fide queen of body horror delves into fears and illicit desires in this engrossing short-story debut

Disgust and delight, it has been said, live in close proximity; in Eliza Clark’s debut collection, they share a home and a bed. These 11 stories revolve around food, sex, gender, power and the body; they veer from realism to sci-fi, fairytale, horror and post-apocalyptic dystopia. This is a book that seems crafted from the stuff of our deepest fears and our most illicit desires. You read on, by turns engrossed and grossed out, as though in the thrall of some demonic power.

In one story, a tapeworm finds a happy home in the narrator’s belly, eating her dinners and keeping her weight in check (“Find me deliciously thin at a Michelin star restaurant, devouring a tasting menu with a wasp waist, never loosening my belt”). Another narrator’s pubescent face, blighted with acne, melts and scabs over after an aggressive treatment found on the dark web. “I feel like I’m touching raw meat and I pull my hands away.” In the sci-fi story Hollow Bones, a rip in the spacesuit of a scientist studying alien cultures allows a luminescent parasite to burrow into her thigh; bizarrely, she eats her own finger as it breaks off after prodding the wound (“The skin of that finger was so thin, it fell apart like stewed meat and slid down her throat just as easily, gristle collapsing with a press of her tongue, and the bone crumbling between her teeth”). The tale ends in her leg and forearm being amputated by a surgical team of fanged and furry creatures. Clark is a bona-fide queen of body horror, sadistic in her choice of imagery, and cussedly attentive to that most mundane and yet consequential of facts: that we have and are a body and, as a result, are always at risk of injury and mutation.

Boy Parts, Clark’s debut novel, was a BookTok sensation. A darkly hilarious study of gender archetypes and the treacherous schism between art and porn, consent and coercion, it featured a Geordie dominatrix and fetish photographer who, in the name of her vocation, groomed, snapped and possibly also bludgeoned and killed men she picked up from the streets. Her follow-up, Penance, turned a sly gaze on true crime, reconstructing the immolation of a teenager by three of her schoolmates. The preoccupations and self-awareness of these novels percolate into the story collection, but it is also very much its own thing: the tales ranging from quiet and murky to freaky, surreal and outright absurd, the work of a writer both dealing in and surpassing abjection and taboos.

Goth GF, a workplace comedy with sub-dom elements, reads like a winking recapitulation of Boy Parts, while The Problem Solver, about a rape survivor who confides in a male friend, engages themes of women’s testimony, male saviorism and sexual gaslighting. As ever, Clark manages to draw blood with a prop knife. After the woman half-jokes about the point of the Sex Offenders Register, the friend earnestly proposes the following course of action: “You wouldn’t have to call him out on your account,” he says. “In fact, we could do it like … more like a whisper network. Or I could message my friend from that feminist book club, the one with all the Instagram followers. Get them to name and shame him.”

The title story, set within a matriarchal community with strict rules for its men – fishers vulnerable to the dark call of the sea – is a delectable, code-scrambled mermaid tale that plays with ideas about male and female power (“The machinations of men had done so little for this place, and for the world outside of here”) and adds a mischievous twist to notions of communal safety and female self-sacrifice. It comes swaddled in influences, from Andersen’s fairytale to Orkney folklore and Lovecraftian mythos (there’s a Lovecraftian nod, too, in the following tale The Shadow Over Little Chitaly, composed entirely of reviews of a mysterious Chinese-Italian fusion takeaway).

The King satirises the “femgore” subgenre with which Clark has been identified, dramatising its excesses while relishing its cliches. Told from the uproarious viewpoint of a cannibal goddess who rises to power after the apocalypse, ruling over a settlement she christens Dad City in honour of the father she has killed and devoured, the story is a litany of horrors leavened by sick humour. She says of a man who offers himself up to be eaten: “He wants me to cut off his dick and balls before he goes. The dick-and-balls thing – they never enjoy that as much as they think they will. It’s always such a let-down for them. It’s a little sad.”

Two stories, Extinction Event and Nightstalkers, may feel like interlopers. The first is a miniature eco-thriller about an alien species of air- and sea-purifying starfish, and the second a hallucinogenic portrait of queer longing in 1970s California. Clark, you realise, isn’t a writer who will keep very long to any one path. This collection, full of shock and surprises, filth and wonder, is occasionally hard to reckon with, but harder still to forget.

Daily inspiration. Discover more photos at Just for Books…?

[andydrysdalerogers]

Love Lessons - Part Two

Pairings: Sebastian Stan x Best Friend! Reader, Chris Evans x Reader

Word Count: 1.8K

Summary: Being an associate producer was never the goal but the stepping stone to be a writer. So when you work for Jimmy Fallon, you never know what will happen.  Or who you will meet...

Warnings: Language, Alcohol use

Song: Jessie's Girl by Rick Springfield (performed by Mary Lambert)

Part 2 of 3 Part 1 Here

Banners by me! Dividers by @firefly-graphics

I don't consent to my work being copied or translated at all.

One year later 

It’s been a year since Sebastian had meet you and found out about your relationship with Chris. Sebastian had dumped Alejandra the next night after she had insulted you. But there was nothing he could do about your relationship with Chris. Chris was head over heels in love. It was sweet really. While Chris traveled, he asked Seb to keep an eye on you. “Don’t want anyone trying to steal my girl,” he said with a wink. If only he knew how much Sebastian himself wanted his girl.  

But as time went on, he got to know you better. You became one of his best friends. You talked about everything with him.  

“Should I get a tattoo?” 

Sebastian looked up from the book he was reading. “YN, what?” 

“A tattoo. I think I want to get one.”  

“Since when?” 

“Since a couple of days ago. What do you think?”  

“I think for a girl with a low pain tolerance that’s a stupid idea.”  

“Chris has them,” you said pointedly.  

“Chris could probably get stabbed and walk around for a few days before it would bother him. I pinch you too hard and you cry for days.”  

“That’s rude.”  

“That’s the truth softy. Pick something else that’s destructive but will not cause me to have to explain to your boyfriend why you’re crying so much.”  

That’s how you ended up with pink streaks in your hair that Chris was ok with.  

Everyday it was a random conversation either in the phone or by text. Your texts were the highlight of his day.  They never failed to make him smile.  

YN: is it true that you made out with a guy  S: yes for a show  YN: which show  S: there are a couple but I guess Political Animals  YN: ok :)  S: what are you doing  YN: purchasing it  S: no wait  YN: too late. I’ll be back  S: YN I swear…  YN: you look good. So young. What happened  S: I hate you  YN: you love me 

S: whatever 

But it was the truth he loved you. Every day he fell more and more in love. You were perfect. But you were not his.  

You took vacations together, you, Chris and Sebastian.  Usually joined with a girl Sebastian might be dating or with Anthony or Scott.  You and a bunch of guys.  You fit right in, never cramping their style, staying on Chris’s lap when they wanted to pick up chicks or in Scott’s case, another guy.  You had actually introduced Scott to Steve, and it made you happy to see Scott so happy.  

Sebastian tried to date.  He really did.  But no one compared to you.  Your sweet disposition, your sassy side, your natural beauty.  He had tasted your cooking and baking, understand now why Chris had to work out so much. You were scared of lightening and spiders, sometimes forcing Sebastian to come over and take care of you, even at 3 AM. He got to practice his Romanian with you, watching you crinkle your nose when you tried to think of the right word. You cared for Dodger as if he was your child, you loved your friends as much as your own family since you had no siblings.  The Evans fit the mold you needed.  In his eyes, you were perfect.  And yes, still unattainable. 

It didn’t stop him from hanging with you as much as possible.  So much that it caused trouble for you in the press. One day Chris called Sebastian pissed off. “What are you playing at Stan?”  

“What are you talking about?” 

“The pictures!” 

“What pictures?” 

“Of you and YN at that restaurant! You’re holding her hand looking pretty intimate.” 

Sebastian thought back.  It was the day your grandmother had died.  You were unable to head home to Seattle right away and Chris immediately jumped on a flight to be with you.  But while you waited, Sebastian had taken you to a café to get a drink and try to remain calm.  He held your hand while you leaned into him, taking comfort in your best friend.   

“Chris, relax. That was the same day as her grandmother passing. You were still flying in and she needed a pick me up.”  

He could hear Chris taking a breath. “I’m sorry.”  

“It’s ok. I know it looks bad but I promise nothing happened.”  

“I know. I trust you. I’m sorry. I’m just scared of losing her.”  

“Hey, won’t be because of me.”  

Famous last words spoken. Especially when the photos of Chris and Lily James hit the gossip sites. The photos were innocent really.  Just two friends hanging out. Of course, the media blew it out of proportion speculating that you and Chris were done.  

Sebastian read the articles and was picking up the phone to call you when there was a knock on the door. He got up and answered. “YN?”  

“Hi. Can I come in?” Your eyes and nose were red. Your posture defeated.  

“Yes of course.” He ushered you in and you sat on the couch. “Are you ok?” 

You shook your head. “I don’t know how to feel right now.”  

“Have you talked to Chris?”  

“He’s on a plane right now. I don’t know if he knows about the pictures.  I didn’t want to be home and alone right now.”  

“Are you going to talk to him?” 

You shrug unsure of what you wanted to do. The photos hurt even if he didn’t do anything.  The rumors were enough to leave you doubting.  

Sebastian sat next to you and took your hand. “YN, sweetie he would never do anything to hurt you. He loves you.”  

“He’s always gone. More now than ever.”  

“He’s working. It happens.”  

You curled into Sebastian, and he wrapped his arms around you as you cried. This was his chance. He could break you up and be there for you. But he couldn’t. You were still very much in love with his best friend.  

Love lesson #3: Don’t covet something you know you can’t have. It just leads to more heart break.  

The phone rang and you looked to see it was Chris. “I don’t want to answer.”  

“YN, you have to.  He’s got to be flipping out.”  

You sighed and picked up the phone. “Hi Chris… no I’m not… too many paps… at Seb’s… because I needed a friend… you’re never here Chris… well sorry but it hurt to see you with another woman… whatever Chris… fine… I said fine I’ll be there… ok bye.”  You hung up without telling him that you loved him. You looked at Sebastian. “He wants to meet for dinner.”  

“Good. Just give him a chance.” Sebastian smiled hiding his own heartbreak.  

You called Sebastian the day after. Chris had explained that they were just hanging out and nothing happened. You trusted him. And life moved on.  

You decided to move to Boston when Sebastian had to be in Los Angeles for his new show. You had started working for NBC as a writer, your dream job, so it was no longer necessary to stay in New York.  And you didn’t want to be in the city alone when Chris was away, so Chris asked you to move in.  That last day, you took Sebastian to the airport.  “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” you said with a smile.  

“So, I’ll be stuck in the house doing nothing then,” he replied with a smirk.  

“Asshole,” you said with a smile.  

“Brat.” 

Your smile fell. “I’ll miss you.” 

“I’ll miss you too. Have fun in Boston. Call me. Any time.” 

“I will. Love you Seb.”  

“Love you YN.”  

It was weird to be away from each other, but Sebastian still talked to you every day. He sent pictures of his fake tattoos one day.  

S: got tattoos before you did.   YN: no fair! Those real?  S: YN really?  YN: fine. I guess I could get them like you  S: what does Chris think of your tattoo idea  YN: his exact words were ‘babe you’ll cry and then hate me for letting you get one’  S: called it.   YN: hate you  S: love you too 

Sebastian had fun getting to know the crew and cast. He and Lily had good chemistry which considering all the sex scenes they had to film, that was good.  They talked in between takes.  

One day he got a message from you.  

YN: need to tell you something  S: what  YN: I miss you so much that Chris and I are coming out in a couple of weeks to visit  S: cool. I miss you. You can meet Lily.  

He could see your eye roll.  

S: if you trust him this shouldn’t be an issue  YN: fine. But only because I trust the both of you.  

Sebastian came up smiling.  Lily took notice. “What’s got you all happy?”  

“My best friends are coming for a visit. You’ve met Chris?” She nodded. “Him and his girlfriend, YN, are coming down. Haven’t seen them in a few months.”  

“He’s still with her?” Lily made a face.  

“What’s with the face?”  

“He made it seem like they were in the verge of breaking up. Only reason I went down on him.” She shrugged.  

Sebastian looked at her dead face. “What did you say?”  

“Yeah, in London. Had I known they were serious I would have walked away. That explains why he never called.”  She popped her gum. “Gotta get to makeup. See you.” She walked off.  

Sebastian held onto the trailer side. No. This couldn’t be happening. Chris said nothing happened. He reached for his phone to call him, but he stopped. He knew Lily liked to deadpan jokes. This has to be one of those times.  

He avoided your calls as much as he could sticking to texts, so it was easier to lie. Why break your heart if there was no proof. He hadn’t talked to Chris so there was no way to know.  

Two weeks later and he was waiting at arrivals for you and Chris.  He had flowers for you, and he rocked on his heels. Finally, he saw the broad shoulders of Chris come through, so he only had to look down to see you next to him.   

When you spotted him, you squealed and ran towards him. He caught you when you jumped and swung you around. Chris watched with an amused face at the reunion.  “Seb!” You cried hugging him tight.  

“YN! Chris! Missed you guys!”  

You bounced on the floor. “Ok why did you give her sugar?” Sebastian asked Chris earning him a classic Chris Evans laugh.  

“She’s excited all on her own.”  

“I am!” You said as you danced around them.  “Seb, Chris proposed!”  You flashed the princess cut diamond on your hand.  

Sebastian swallowed and forced his smile. “That’s amazing guys! Congratulations!”  He hugged Chris first and then you.  His heart broke. You were going to marry an unfaithful man.  

Love lesson #4: always be honest with the ones you love 

Final lessons are next... Part 3

Taglist:

@patzammit

@texmexdarling

@slutforchrisjamalevans

@firephotogrl74

@tinkerbelle67

@before-we-get-started

@bunnyforhim

@alexakeyloveloki

@sunnyhummingbee

@whiskeytangofoxtrot555

@peaceinourtime82

@saucy-sassy-sparkly

@kmc1989

@kandis-mom

@lokislady82

[beemynumberone]

All The Colours (2/7)

-> In which Idol!Minghao and Actress!OC convey their heartfelt messages through colours.

-> slowwwwburn romance. friends to lovers. no smut.

-> constructive feedback is always appreciated!

All pictures are from Pinterest, I do not own them.

Writer’s note: Hi! I am writing these scenarios to placate my active imagination and hopefully make someone’s day/night. I do not intend to hurt anyone/anything through this fic.

Thank you for picking up my story and happy reading!

Masterlist

*btw, Yile is pronounced as Yi Le (in Chinese pronunciation), it is not supposed to rhyme with Kyle

Part 2: Yellow

Yellow. A colour to symbolise hope and in Chinese culture, royalty and power.

Minghao toyed with the idea as he went back home. If Yile found self expression through her makeup and outfit, could he? As corny as it was, as he gazed into her eyes, he felt drawn to the stars that sparkled in them. The hope they shone invigorated him to recall the passion and sincerity he started his journey as an idol with. Of course he never lost that desire to perform, but when you’re 9 years into the industry, the “first love” does fade slightly.

And now, that hope and will was back. Minghao felt ready to jump to high heaven- actually no. But he was really pumped to try emoting with his fashion!

Minghao opened up his personal schedule. It seemed like there was a fashion show happening next month. Perfect to showcase some fashionista individuality. Problem was, he sighed, that Jeonghan was coming along too. Knowing Jeonghan, he would choose to wear black any day as it seemed practical and efficient. However, if Minghao wore yellow and Jeonghan wore black, they would make the headlines as “The-Idiots-from-that-13+3+1-member-boy-group-who-wore-bee-cosplay-at-a-fashion-show”. Minghao had a headache just thinking of the clashing colours.

Minghao made up his mind. He would convince his hyung to wear another colour. Something that preferably matched yellow. He looked at his watch, 1am. It was late, he would have to ask him tomorrow.

Yile’s POV:

Yile fanned her flaming cheeks and tried to force cool air down her lungs. “You what? With who?” Xinhui was badgering her non-stop since the event ended. Yile rolled her eyes jokingly. Xinhui had seen the interaction between her and Minghao at the food table and had winked at Yile. From then on, Yile knew her plan of sleeping a good 7 hours was futile.

Yile shared an apartment with Xinhui. She was an absolute joy to have, but this was one of those times when Yile wished she lived alone.

“So what did you say to him?” Xinhui egged.

“So he said hi then I snapped out of my daze. Then he complimented my dress and makeup. So I complimented him back.” Yile recounted.

“And what did you tell him?” Xinhui surely could be a great journalist if she tried, Yile thought.

“So I told him he looked dashing.” Yile replied.

“What are you, an English lady in the Victorian era?” Xinhui teased, “Will you be writing a letter to this dashing young gentleman then Yile?”

“Of course not, Minghao’s just an industry acquaintance.”

“Look at you saying his name!” Xinhui ooo-ed and squealed. Yile sighed nostalgically. She felt like she was in school again.

Minghao’s POV:

The next day, Minghao had to go early to prep for the Going Seventeen episode. After the scissors paper stone game that ensued during the last session, he volunteered was forced to go first to get his makeup done. He sat in the makeup chair with heavy-lidded eyes and dozed off.

“Wang Yile”

Minghao’s heart sprung to attention. “What do you want?” He looked around, annoyed.

“So rude for a loverboy.” Junhui teased.

“What do you mean loverboy? We’re just…We just talked for 5 seconds then went on our merry way.” Minghao said disgruntled.

Junhui had a Cheshire smile on his face that spelled trouble. “Keep telling that to yourself, Minghao. I’ve never seen you so happy after going to an event before.”

“Who is happy?” Seungcheol entered the makeup room, Jeonghan following closely behind.

“Nobody. Don’t take what Jun says seriously.” Minghao sulked.

Jeonghan seeing his younger member all pouty, guessed it must have been to do with the other boy’s teasing. He motioned the two to keep silent and took Minghao to the waiting room.

“You alright?” Jeonghan’s words were a warm embrace and a gentle ointment to Minghao’s sore wounds. “Yeah, I feel better now. Thanks hyung.”

“As I always reiterate, when you’re ready please let me know what is happening so I can help you or even just support you. I know you’ll do it at your own discretion but I hope that it would not take long. Our team is bonded by trust and you know you are very important to us.” Jeonghan encouraged and Minghao nodded. He was extremely grateful to have such an astute and empathetic friend.

After the Going Seventeen filming, Minghao caught up with Jeonghan. “You know we have that fashion show next month right?” “Yeah, what about it?” Jeonghan smiled curiously.

“So like Ikindawanttowearyellow and Ihopedyoucouldlikenotwearblack.” Minghao could slap himself, why was his mouth moving faster than his brain?

“So you want to wear what?”

“Yellow”

“And you hope I could not wear black?”

Minghao nodded eagerly.

“Why though? We would look like the best bee cosplay in the whole fashion show. Such an aesthetic if you ask me. We would be unforgettable. More attention for us!” Jeonghan retorted.

Minghao sincerely hoped he was joking.

Yile’s POV:

“Yile! You’ve received an invitation to the XXX fashion show. It’s happening next month!” Yile’s manager exclaimed over the phone. Yile’s bleary eyes opened as she digested her manager’s words. “What?” Yile burst out laughing. “What a coincidence, my sister is working for that show as a makeup artist.”

“Good to know Yile, and as always, please prepare your outfit for the event and run it by us by next week. Our fashion manager has decided to hand you the reigns of curating your outfits. Says that you have a unique style she wants to explore more of.” They said their goodbyes and hung up.

As a curious cat in the age of social media, Yile scrolled through brand XXX’s Instagram page. The most recent post was of a sneak peak into the photoshoot of the brand’s ambassadors - Seventeen’s Jeonghan and Minghao. Her jaw dropped.

Minghao POV:

“Please hyung, we cannot look like bees at the fashion show. I will not condone it.” Minghao pleaded.

Jeonghan sighed, “No can do Minghao. Unless…”. He winked.

Minghao groaned, “Hyung, it’s really nothing. I just met Wang Yile, an actress at the social networking event 2 days ago and said hi. That’s all.”

“Do you want to get to know her more then?” Jeonghan questioned.

Minghao thought about it. He did want to know more about her interesting character. It was lonely being the pink-and-purple in the sea of grey overalls. (Iykyk) He could envision deep conversations with Yile about fashion and self-expression and meaning and… Wait was he imagining conversations with her?!

Minghao replied stately, “Yes, I want to.”

Jeonghan smiled at his seriousness. If his younger “brother” wanted to get to know Wang Yile more, he would make it happen.

“What colour should I wear then Minghao?”

“Navy maybe? You could try brown but we might look like a sunflower.”

“Who doesn’t want to look like a sunflower?”

“Hyung…”

“Navy it is then.”

Yellow. A colour that now represented Minghao’s hope to be fashion buddies or even friends if you will, with Yile.

Yile’s POV:

Yile sifted through the online brochure her fashion manager sent her. Humming to Our Dawn Is Hotter Than Day, she stopped and looked at a dress. Its outline was simple, which was perfect since it didn’t steal attention from the models. But it would do the trick of enhancing her gracefulness and maintaining a clean image from the “mistress rumours” that came from her prior acting role. It would also do the trick of looking more open to talking to a certain someone.

Yile called her manager. “Hi unnie, for the show, I’m thinking of wearing the pink aline dress. I know it looks on the plainer side but hear me out, what about adding gemstones for embellishment. Yep, that sounds good. Thank you for arranging this! Love ya, bye!”

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

sunflower, chapter eighteen

summary: Y/n finally attends one of Rossi’s parties

warnings: alcohol consumption, talk of food, semi-public sex, dirty talk, mirror sex, bathroom quickie, penetrative sex, creampie, oral (fem receiving) aka just Spencer cleaning up after himself

word count: 1693

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

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“Are you ready?”

You looked over at Spencer before smoothing down your short dress, nodding and ringing the doorbell.

Only a few moments passed before the extravagant front door swung open.

“Reid! Great you could make it,” the older man, whom you would presume was Rossi, beamed, “and you finally brought Y/n, about damn time. Welcome, come in. The rest are just out back.”

Tightening your grip on Spencer’s hand, you followed Rossi out to greet the others.

“Look who just arrived,” Rossi said, calling the rest of the party’s attention. The familiar blonde immediately jumped out of her seat to give you a big bear hug.

“Y/n! Oh my god, you’re here! You’re finally here!” Penelope squealed.

“Oh, hi, it’s great to see you as well!”

“Baby girl, don’t scare off Pretty Ricky’s girlfriend now that she’s finally come to one of these dinners,” Morgan winked.

Not sure if you should correct him, you glanced up at Spencer and let him take the lead, “Y/n is actually not my girlfriend, we got married.”

“Oh, don’t tell me you went to Vegas?” Rossi mumbled. There was obviously a story there.

“No, it happened a while ago,” he chuckled, “but we only just made it completely official a few days ago at the courthouse.”

The Italian sure knew how to pick a good wine. You were on your third glass, and the night was going swimmingly. Penelope had hogged you for a while, but it didn’t take long for you to feel the love from the rest of Spencer’s chosen family.

The food had been amazing. Pasta, who wouldn’t have loved that?

Half-empty wine glass in hand, you wandered up and down one of the many hallways in this huge mansion. You were taking a bit of a breather from the party now that the meal was over. Looking up at the walls, you studied the many impressive, framed pictures and artwork.

Rounding the corner, you saw Spencer, clearly looking for you, “hey, there you are,” he smiled, “you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m great, just needed a tiny break,” you looked up at more of the frames and took another sip, “this wine tastes so good.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” he giggled.

“You know,” focusing your gaze on him, “it’s kinda giving me some ideas…”

“Oh really? And what would that be?” he smirked.

Reaching out to play with his tie, “well, I was thinking, maybe we could go into a bathroom and…?”

Eyes growing wide at your boldness, he giggled, “Y/n, I’m not gonna fuck you in the bathroom!”

“Why not? Because your co-workers are outside?”

“Yes!” he shrieked.

“They’re all the way out in the garden, they won’t hear anything!”

“But, what if one of them has to use the bathroom and we’re in there?”

“Spencer, there are like a million bathrooms in this house. What are the chances that they will choose the exact one we are in?”

Taking a moment to think on it, calculating the possibilities, “you sure?”

“Spencer, thanks to the wine and the sensation of wearing this tiny dress, I feel like I’m gonna explode. If you don’t help me. I’m taking matters into my own hands,” you backed up, moving closer to the nearest bathroom, “you can just watch if you want… guard the door… I know how much you like that…” opening the door, you left him to make his desertion.

Hearing the door lock behind you, he turned you around to capture your lips. Kissing you fiercely, he backed you up until you bumped into the sink.

“You know how much I love those noises you make, but we have to be quiet, okay?” he whispered, in between the kisses, “can you do that for me?”

“Mmhm.”

Toying with the end of your dress, he smirked, “good girl, now turn around and bend over.”

Doing so as fast as your body would let you, you found his eyes in the mirror as you braced yourself on the sink. Slipping his fingers under your dress, touching your thighs, he nudged them apart, making room for his fingers to feel you through your underwear.

“You really weren’t kidding, you’re fucking soaked,” he kissed the crook of your neck.

“Please, Spencer, I want you inside me,” you whined, pushing your hips back, griding your ass into him.

Hearing him undo his pants, you bit your lip. He tugged your panties aside and you felt the weight of his cock tap against you.

“Yeah, is this what you want?”

Running it through your folds and teasing your entrance, you nodded furiously, “please.”

And with that, he drove into you, not giving you a moment to adjust, he clasped his palm over your parted lips to minimise the moan you couldn’t hold back. Setting a brutal pace, your eyes never left his chocolate ones in the reflection.

Keeping his face right next to yours, he kept his lips by your ear, “we have to be quick.”

Running your tongue over his palm, he let go only to shove to fingers into your mouth, quieting you that way.

“I can feel your pulse, baby,” he whispered and wrapped his other arm around your ribcage, right underneath your boobs, the thumb poking up every once and a while to stroke one of them. “And I don’t mean in your chest.”

Grabbing a hold of his forearm, you dug your nails into it, surely leaving little crescent moons in its wake. Hollowing your cheeks around his digits, you swirled your tongue around them.

Gliding his hand down to play with your clit, he nibbled your neck lightly, “you gonna be a good girl and cum for me?”

Moaning around his fingers, you didn’t need any more from him, already being so close to the verge of euphoria, this was just the cherry on top.

Burying his face in your shoulder, the two of you rode out your highs together.

Detaching from each other after you’d regained your breath, you felt his hot cum run down your legs, “can you get me some toilet paper to clean up?”

“No,” he grinned.

“Spencer, I am not gonna go out there again with your load running down my thighs!”

Seeing him kneel down behind you, you gasped in surprise as you felt his tongue start to lap at you, catching every last drop that had escaped.

Giving you one last sloppy kiss on your sensitive folds, he rose up again and wrapped his arms around you, “another time,” he kissed your cheek.

Closing your eyes, you leaned back into the embrace. The mix of your obvious alcohol consumption and the wonderful orgasm made you drowsy. Even though you were standing up, you felt as though you could fall asleep on the spot.

Nuzzling his nose against your cheek, he chuckled, “what, are you tired?”

Lulling your head to the side, you mumbled, “oh, shut up, wine is a sedative.”

Moving down to nibble lightly at your pulse point, “so is an orgasm.”

His fact made you arch your back, pushing your round ass into his sensitive groin, “are you offering another one?”

Running his hands down to gently grab a hold of your hips, steadying them, “maybe later, when we get home.”

Lazily blinking your eyes open, “you promise?”

“Any time you want a release of melatonin, among other hormones, you just let me know.”

Taking a step back, he did his best to help get you back to looking like you weren’t just doing exactly what you were doing in here. It worked, somewhat, but luckily the walk back down to the garden was long enough for the flush that you both were sporting to disappear.

Reaching for the door handle, you asked, “could you maybe do that thing, where you put a pillow under me?”

“You sure you wanna do that after 3 drinks? Last time we did that you said it made you see stars.”

“Oh, absolutely,” you turned the handle, smiling as you glanced down to see his quickly returning tent, “I wanna see big dipper!”

Closely following after you as you exited the bathroom, he dipped down you whisper in your ear, “baby, if that’s what you want, I’ll make you see a lot more than just big dipper,” then spun you around to catch your lips with his own.

In between the hurried kisses, you giggled, “oh yeah?”

Before he could answer, you were interrupted by an intentional cough right beside your entangled forms. Almost jumping from each other, you spun around to see Derek, leaning against the wall with the biggest smirk on his face.

“Oh, hi!” you tried, eyes wide.

“Hello indeed,” he looked proudly at Spencer, “pretty boy, my man!”

“Oh, no, this is not what you think it is,” Spencer attempted.

“Really? Then what were you two doing alone in the bathroom at a party?”

“Um, we were just talking about constellations… In the bathroom…” you gave a tight-lipped smile.

“Oh yeah? I knew you were a nerd Reid, but I didn’t think that was a turn on of yours-”

Slapping one of his broad shoulders, you ushered him into the now vacant bathroom, “alright, you needed the bathroom so bad, there you go, it’s free now.”

Unfortunately, that didn’t stop his teasing, “I’m just saying Reid if you want any tips, I’d happily share my expertise-”

Slamming the door in his face, you slurred, “nope, he doesn’t need that, trust me, my husband has an eidetic memory, among other things, and he knows exactly how to use them!”

Stumbling slightly over your own feet, you felt Spencer’s hands around your waist, “alright, Y/n, I think he got the message, why don’t we go down and get you a glass of water?”

“What? No, I’m fine, I’m great, wonderful in fact,” you traced your hands over his.

Leading you down the hall, he chuckled, “and I would like for you to stay wonderful so that I can keep up my promise for when we get home.”

“Fine,” you breathed out dramatically, “I will drink this water if it means I get dicked down tonight.”

© 2022 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[kitty-is-writing]

writemas day 24!

thanks as always to @agirlandherquill for organising writemas, and for coming up with so many amazing prompts! today's are here if you want to play!

I wanted to do something silly and fun for the last day, so I grabbed a bunch of random characters and threw them into a room together for a party. the prompt I picked was:

"What do you mean you don't know how to dance?"

~~~~~

Kandrina looked around, taking in the strange surroundings. “Where are we?” There were tiny, twinkling lights strung overhead, and little clusters of tables and chairs festooned with sparkling silk bows around the edges of a polished floor.

Remlik and his twin sister Remlika stood either side of her, also puzzling over the unfamiliar location. “I have no idea. It looks as though the place is decked out for a party, though,” he said.

“This has to be Dranj-Aria’s doing. We were at home only a few moments ago,” said Remlika.

“Nothing to do with me,” came the goddess’s voice. She stepped out of a side door, green hair almost sparkling in the tiny lights scattered around the room. “I have a feeling you were all put back where you came from after this, though.” She winked into the air, not looking at anyone.

“Sister!” The excited shout startled them, and Kandrina felt someone slam into her back, enveloping her in a fierce hug. “How did you get here? Also, where is here?”

Kandrina laughed, turning to embrace Enkarini. “I don't know, and I don't know. It's good to see you, though.”

Behind her, Caiara, Ember and Soris seemed to appear out of nowhere. “Are we here for a reason, do you think?”

Soris shrugged and picked at his nails. “If we are, I'm sure someone will say so.”

Music swelled from somewhere, an upbeat, cheerful tune that none of them could name. “Come and dance with me,” Enkarini said, pulling her sister into the middle of the floor. Caiara joined them, and the three girls began a kind of spinning, clapping dance around each other.

Remlik caught sight of another couple across the room; a pale man with dark hair and a richly coloured jacket, and a red haired woman in a deep green dress. He made his way over and introduced himself. “I don’t suppose either of you know anything about this place?” he asked when they had given their names, Michael and Christina.

“Not a clue. It seems like a friendly place, at least,” Michael said. “There seems to be a feast table laid out over there, your green-haired friend has already filled a plate.”

“Maybe later. I’d rather like to dance with my partner, for now.”

Christina smiled. “That sounds good to me. Come on, Michael.”

As the rest mingled, a shout rang over the music and chatter. “What do you mean, you don’t know how to dance?” Ember had forgotten to be sarcastic in her surprise.

“I mean I don’t know how to dance! It’s not exactly something I had a need to learn about,” Soris replied.

Ember yanked him off the chair he had sat on and pulled him towards the floor. “It’s about time you start learning, then. I’ll start off slow for you.”

Remlika stood to one side, watching the dancers and debating whether to fill a plate from the seemingly endless feast. Dranj-Aria joined her, nodding in time with the beat and offering a platter of cheesy pastries. “You felt like joining in? I can throw a few shapes, if you wanted a partner.”

“Alright then. I’ve never danced with a goddess before.”

With a twirl, Dranj-Aria simultaneously led Remlika onto the dance floor and managed a bow to the invisible audience. “A very Merry Christmas to you all,” she whispered.

~~~~~

tagging fellow writers!

@leahnardo-da-veggie @rhiannonhgarrard @aether-wasteland-s @kaylinalexanderbooks @theeccentricraven

@revenantlore @satohqbanana @mysticstarlightduck @calliecwrites @bloodmoonloveletter

@17panicattacksinatrenchcoat @oh-no-another-idea @ryns-ramblings @charlesjosephwrites @burntblanc

@desastreus @aquixoticwrites @eli-t-spoon

[askaceattorney]

Dear Kevin James,

Chief Mod Edgeworth:

I could see that in a fan comic, though there already are mangas of Ace Attorney that aren't canon. I suppose it wouldn't be impossible. I would read it regardless of if it were a fan comic or an official manga.

Co-Mod: I'm a lot more familiar with anime than manga, so I don't know how good or bad that would look (though I guess that would mostly depend on the skill and talent of the writer), but I'm open to the idea. That being said, it reminds me a little too much of a certain despairful video game/anime series, so to answer your second question...probably not.

Mod Zieks: I love the idea. Love it so much. Tbh I'm more of an anime person than manga, but if it was manga exclusively, I'd be all over that.

Dear Minnesotamermaid71,

Chief Mod Edgeworth: You can try doing it on another device or web browser. Otherwise, I don't know what the issue is. You should be able to click on it and it will take you to the Youtube link.

Dear Robottiye,

Chief Mod Edgeworth: I don't know. I doubt there's going to be much difference outside of maybe higher graphics and stuff.

Mod Zieks: Yes, I do have some plans to use it! (For evil.)

Dear Anonymous,

Chief Mod Edgeworth: The recent ones seem like they're asked because they're funny? Otherwise I have no idea.

Mod Zieks: It's the internet, where people can be as anonymous as they want. It's to be expected (unfortunately.)

(Referenced Letter)

Dear Askrikkaiandhyotei,

Chief Mod Edgeworth:

I know. This was made two years ago and the answers were pointed out in the comments right here.

(Referenced Letter)

Dear Eway4,

Chief Mod Edgeworth: This also shows the possibility that Franziska has an older brother too. She may have an older sister and brother. Manfred von Karma is... what? 65 according to Ace Attorney wiki? He'd have been 48 when Franziska was born, which already leaves over two decades and a half for Manfred von Karma to have two, three, even five other kids. That would depend on when he was married, but I think you get the point and no I don't think he has five other kids.

Personally, I think it could go either way. I have created OC's as part of the von Karma family that includes Franziska, an older brother and an older sister. Both have kids and while one owns a dog named Phoenix, it is shared by the two siblings since he considers it a family pet.

I did find this interesting. I suppose it shouldn't be any surprise that the grandchild didn't originally have a gender. Now, I'm curious what the original translation of the credit card pin number comment was.

Dear Charicla,

Chief Mod Edgeworth: Ace Attorney mostly, but I also have Tetris, Project Makeover, Wordscape, Gardenscape, Lilly's Garden, Happy Match Cafe, Solitaire, Island Hoppers, Love Paradise, Winked and Traffic Escape.

Basically, puzzle games, classics, makeover and a dating sim.

(Referenced Letter)

Dear Dawsongfg,

Chief Mod Edgeworth: Spiders? You're talking to someone who used to pick up Daddy Longlegs from the corner of the basement window and drop them in a well.

Co-Mod: I answered that letter, so it doesn't scare me a whole lot, but...that was still a jerk move. 😒

Mod Zieks: Love spiders. They go great with sprite, and maybe crickets as well.

Dear Anonymous,

Chief Mod Edgeworth: It kinda is? I don't know what you're referring to or if it's to any letters. If so, you need to link the letters you're talking about or I'm going to be so confused.

I will say that we only know their ages in each game, being it is revealed in their profile. Outside of that or any official canon B-Days that are revealed in the game or something such as Rayfa's birthday, we can only speculate when it may be. If anyone wants to wish a character a Happy Birthday during any random day, they may and we will recognize it as such.

Dear Anonymous,

Chief Mod Edgeworth: We do insert headcanons as a way to fill in the blank so to speak, since some questions to the characters are not explained or answered in the game. As such, we will use headcanons that will add but not change canon.

As for the previous letters, those were from former mods that no longer work here. Just like Kristoph being a part of the Gavinners was a headcanon to add but not break canon, so was theirs. The game never showed Kristoph claiming he wasn't fond of the genre or only tolerated Klavier's music. That was likely based off of Apollo's and Ema's feelings for Klavier's music of not being fond. Mine of Kristoph being a part of the Gavinners was mostly to answer a question if he was, but I also think it makes sense being that Klavier looks up to his brother and I find it would be something interesting for Kristoph.

Dear A Concerned Asker,

Chief Mod Edgeworth: I don't? Hell, I've answered asks to Klavier and Jake hinting that they swing both ways and I've had Edgeworth once come out as Asexual. Not to mention we recognize Aura Blackquill x Metis Cykes as a canon one-sided ship. Whether Metis returned the feelings is up for interpretation. Outside of that, the only "straight" ships that are canon we recognize is Godot x Mia and maybe Phoenix x Iris. We do not count Apollo's date with Maya, because that was a one time Valentines Day shtick and the other ships we do not count as canon, straight or not. You might get a character or two finding someone attractive (you might be lucky enough to have Klavier admit to finding Apollo attractive) or having one character asking another on a date that is convincing enough, but that's it.

If you're talking about past letters from four or five years ago, maybe more, that’s likely from Co-Mod and maybe Modot. Can’t say. I know Modot did say he hated certain slash ships because of the fandom at the time and Co-Mod felt awkward in answering yaoi/yuri letters, so he avoided them altogether. However, I will gladly answer slash/yaoi/yuri letters and I recognize when LGBTQ+ is canon. I do ship Wrightworth, AsoRyuu and BaroAso, so I do endorse yaoi.

That being said, I do understand where Co-Mod and Modot are coming from. It isn’t that they believe all characters are straight, but that it wouldn’t be IC for say Phoenix to fall in love with Edgeworth when he had been into Iris from the start. From Modot’s perspective, Phoenix and Maya made better sense before DD and SOJ came about. The AA trilogy did seem to have NaruMayo as the canon endgame in mind and Modot seems like a canon shipper. I was a canon shipper for the longest time back when I was in High School full of gay and bisexual students, so I can tell you that preferring straight over gay ships has nothing to do with it.

As for Co-Mod, he had never met someone that was gay outside of his uncle, so it was more that he didn’t know or was inexperienced with how to answer slash letters. It’s changed since I became mod and especially after taking over as the head mod. He's even started answering some slash letters recently.

I know you’re not trying to accuse anyone of anything, but it does feel a little accusatory. Not only are there multiple mods, as you’ve stated, but there have been changing of the Heads over the years. Modot was the first, then Modthorne, Co-Mod and now me. That’s why you need to look at which mod is answering letters. If it’s “The Mod,” he’s no longer here and doesn’t apply to the current mods. If it’s Co-Mod, he’s retired and no longer runs the place. As far as I can recall, many of us do endorse certain noncanon ships, most of them yaoi, and we recognize if characters are canonly gay or at least into the same sex.

Co-Mod: Yeah, I'd say that about sums it up. I was raised to believe that men are made for women and women are made for men (and while my mind could be changed, I haven't seen much evidence disproving that idea), but even if that weren't the case, I hadn't seen very many same-sex relationships, real or fictional, so I wouldn't have been able to portray them accurately, which is why I avoided them. Call it whatever you want, but I was just playing it safe. In any case, we now have several Mods who are more willing to address the topic, so it looks like we've found what appears to be a workable solution.

-The Mods

[unabashed-lover-of-fictional-men]

Fandom Leap

Chapter 2 Carry On

Fandom Leap Masterlist

Prologue /Chapter 1

🥧 Universe: Supernatural

🥧 Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

🥧 Words: 2005

Notes: I am screaming, crying and throwing up both from excitement and nervousness. Also huge thank you to @supraveng for even considering me for this. I have NEVER been in any type of writing collab and I am shook I was even thought of for this. I am excited to see the flow and to read all the other writer’s stories and see the other universes. So I hope everyone enjoys it and please check out the other writers involved. Also any mistakes are my own. This was not beta read.

Thank you so much for reading this, as always reblogs and comments go a long way and are welcome and super appreciated. Please check out the other parts of the story and enjoy!

Dividers from @firefly-graphics

“Where am I now?” You glanced around seeing a very few buildings, in the distance you saw what you thought was a sleazy hotel, sighing you started walking towards it. You wish you could know what the heck was going on, you were so close and then you “jumped again” After a while you realized the hotel seemed even further away than you thought.

Everything hurt and you really just wanted a soft bed and a shower. Before you can gather your bearings the roar of an engine makes your jump. A sleek, black and chrome car rounds the corner and all you can do is brace yourself for the inevitable impact, but you’re surprised when the car stops right next to you. Grumbling to yourself you hoped it wasn’t some grade A creeper, you hear someone talking to you “Sweetheart, do you need a ride?”

Getting ready to throw some attitude at the driver you turn, and are shocked. The man talking to you looks at you confused “Sweetheart you good?” You gape at him,slowly shaking your head no "No I was just in New York where am I now?" you take a shaky breath as you shake your head hoping that this is a dream. Sighing the man looks to the passenger and stops the car gesturing to the back seat “Come on sweetheart get in and we’ll at least take you to the hotel up the road, it's a little hot to be walking outside today, and you’re in Lebanon Kansas”

Looking at him, you swallow he looks sincere his green eyes looking at you with concern, the spray of freckles across his face make him look younger and you can’t help but smile “Uh sure thanks, sorry can’t be too careful nowadays” The man nods and smiles “I agree sweetheart, name’s Dean, Dean Winchester. This is my brother Sam and sometimes an angel will sorta appear. His name is Castiel.” You almost let out a squeal, you thought he looked familiar. You watched all of Supernatural more times than you could count, had any and all merchandise and were mildly obsessed with Dean Winchester. And now you were staring at him, his brother and Baby…..you couldn’t believe how your day…days were going.

Sliding into the car you gently shut the door knowing how much Dean cared for his Baby, unable to hide the smile on your face you looked over to Dean and Sam “Thanks so much for picking me up, been on any interesting hunts lately?” Suddenly the car stops and there is a gun pointed at you from Dean “Who the hell are you,are you a demon or one of those dickhead angels?” Sam looks at Dean “Come on Dean maybe there is an explanation..” 

“Dean put the gun away, this woman is clearly not from this universe” You turn to your left and see Castiel, nodding you clear your throat “He’s right! I swear I was just somewhere else in a different universe and I jumped, I honestly have no idea how this is even happening” Glancing at the men you blush feeling embarrassed, Dean chuckles softly “It’s ok sweetheart if Cas says you’re from another universe we believe him, trust me this won’t be the weirdest thing we’ve ever seen” Winking at you he smirks and turns back around and starts Baby back up, driving the short distance to the hotel. Checking everyone in you wait for the brothers before entering the hotel room, looking around you smile “Oh magic fingers! These are great! Anyone got some quarters?”

Dean laughs and smiles moving closer to you “Sweetheart I think I’m going to like you being here, see that Sammy another Magic Fingers enthusiast. Now sweetheart tell us everything that happened before you got here, every detail. Cas get down here please so you can help explain things” Hearing wings you look and see Castiel smiling at you, sitting next to you “Hello again” Smiling you nod “Hello again Castiel Angel of the Lord” Dean rolls his eyes slightly and sits on your right side, placing his hand on your knee “Go on sweetheart tell us your story” Nodding you start telling them everything including how you had just jumped when you were walking on the road, Sam look intrigued while Dean looks sad and so does Castiel “Everything she said is accurate Dean” Dean nods “But how does so go back to her right universe? She can’t just keep bouncing can she?”

Castiel shrugs “I think that depends on her, someone or something is allowing her to meet these people so until she has met them all she will continue to jump, once then will it stop” You nod slightly “It’s that easy? Won’t that uh mess me up? I mean traveling that much sounds damaging?” Dean nods in agreement “Yeah I feel like that can’t be good sweetheart no offense” Castiel cocks his head at Dean “She’s been fine so far I believe she will continue to be fine, for now we should enjoy our time with her before she “jumps” again” Dean smiles and nods “Sammy, Cas how about you get a bunch of greasy cheeseburgers with the works and fries, oh and some pie! And we’ll have a party of sorts for our new friend” Winking at you again Dean smiles, Castiel chuckles and nods “Of course Dean.”

Sam nods and looks at you “You going to be alright here with my brother?” You laugh and nod “Yeah I’ll be fine” Sam laughs and looks at Castiel “Come on let’s get Romeo here some food and pie” Castiel looks at Sam confused “That is not Romeo that is Dean” Laughing softly you watch the two of them leave, glancing at Dean you sigh “I hate to ask this but I really want to take a shower and clearly I have no spare clothes with me can I borrow something?” Dean chuckles and nods “Yeah I think I have a spare flannel you can wear and maybe a shirt, otherwise Sammy has some but they might end up a dress but hey it’s something” Smiling you nod and look around the room as Dean rumages for clothes, suddenly you feel someone behind you. Turning you see Dean with a smirk on his face “Here you go sweetheart, now go shower and then we can eat”

Blushing slightly you nod and head into the shower, shutting the bathroom door you strip, turning on the shower you let the water get nice and hot. Walking under the spray you sigh happily letting the hot water relax your sore muscles washing up you grab the shampoo and lather up your hair. Feeling much better than before you shut off the water and step out, drying off you pull back on your bra and panties. Pulling on the shirt and the flannel and your pants you walk back out “Dean?” Looking up from his laptop he licks his lips and smiles “Yeah sweetheart? Feelin better, you look better, more relaxed” Laughing you walk over to him “Oh so before I looked bad? I’m kidding, I do feel better, thanks for the clothes. Sam and Castiel back yet?” Dean shakes his head, his eyes still roaming over you “Not yet sweetheart still just you and me, come on and sit with me while I do some research” Nodding you sit and look at the papers and books laying around.

My neighbor came back and took a bite out of my arm ... .My sister isn’t my sister, she’s a body snatcher…The ghost of my cat is haunting me Glancing at Dean you smirk slightly “Can we look for the ghost cat? Sounds cuddly and kind of cute” Dean laughs and watches you “I was researching for a case sweetheart but I’ll be sure to get you that ghost cat” Winking at you Dean gently pats your knee making your skin break out in goosebumps, Dean grins and looks at you “So what was the other universe like?” You blush slightly, licking your lips you smile “It was good, hard to explain but there were some enhanced people there and yeah was good” Frowning slightly you remember Bucky’s face shocked as you jumped again, Dean sees your face fall and rubs your knee gently “Hey sorry sweetheart didn’t mean to bring up anything sad” You shake your head “No offense but I wish I could have stayed there more,but I am glad I’m here uh with you and of course Sammy” Dean smirked “Oh course sweetheart” Blushing you shake your head at him “I’m serious!”

Dean laughs and smiles “Oh I believe you sweetheart I promise, so let me ask you how do you know if or when you're about to jump universes?” You look at him yawning slightly “It’s hard to describe it just feels like something is going to happen…and then I’m just somewhere else” Dean rubs your knee gently “That sounds like that would be very difficult to get used to, well I hope your with us for a while and if you do jump again I won’t stop until I find you again alright?” You nod your head, tears filling them “That means a lot to me, thanks Dean” Stroking your cheek with his thumb he winks at you “Anything for you sweetheart, I know I haven’t known you a long time but I feel like I’ve known you for a lifetime, now you’ve had a long day so how about we get some sleep and we can talk more in the morning?” 

Nodding you smile “That sounds amazing it’s actually exhausting to jump through universes” Standing you walk with Dean glancing around the bunker “Was going to ask if you wanted your own room or wouldn’t mind sharing one with me? Only because we don’t know when you’ll jump again” Laughing softly you smile up at him “Sure we can share one if you’re ok with it” Smirking at you “Sweetheart I’m sure I would like the left side if possible, plus I always sleep with a gun and its hidden under a pillow on that side. I’ll try to stay on my side promise” Looking at him mischievously you smile “I can’t promise anything but I’ll try to behave myself” Dean laughs and nods “Fair enough sweetheart, I hopefully will see you in the morning”

You nod hoping that this time you won’t jump, you slide into bed and still can’t believe that this whole thing is happening. How many more times would you jump? What universes would you go to? Would you ever be able to stick with one?” Your mind was running a mile a minute glancing at the nearby wall. You felt arms wrapping around you and pulling you close. “I can almost hear you thinking sweetheart, just get some sleep and remember I’ll find you no matter what ok?” Nodding your head you press close to him before closing your eyes.

Feeling a light in your eyes you groan loudly turning you frown “Oh no…” You manage to open an eye and realize it happened again, your heart sunk as you realized you were not in the hotel room with Dean, but where were you now?

[cvupidwrites]

Emalee we need a fic like your recent innie one (I loved it btw 10/10) but y/n taking care of Hyunjin I’m begging it’d be so cute. Maybe when he has the stomach flu too and doesn’t wanna bother y/n cus she’s busy but she catches on and helps him?? 💓💓

omg yes this is such a cute idea 🥹! also thank you for the positive feedback, it means so much to me! if you have any more fic requests fill free to send them to me!

let me know..

sick!hyunjin x reader, implied relationship, pet names like baby, my boy, darling, lovely, MENTION OF VOMITING, CRYING, DEHYDRATION, & BULLYING/HATE

i placed my bag on the back of hyunjins chair and booted up my computer at the desk in his room. waiting for hyunjin would definitely take a while, so i decided to start a university essay iv been procrastinating on. as i sighed and started typing up a draft to base it off, hyunjin walked into the room.. 2 hours earlier than usual.

“well you’re quite early today.” i said softly as i stood up from my seat. “yeah- minho said we did good today so.. we uh, got done early, are you doing a essay?” he looked over my head at my open computer and empty doc. “i was going to start it while i waited for you but since you’re home early..it can wait another day.” he shook his head at me and looked at the bathroom, avoiding the eye contact i tried to make with him. i noticed his body tense up a little and he looked at me for about .1 of a second.

“im going to go shower, go work on your essay, okay? don’t wanna get behind do you, darling?” i shook my head as he turned to me again and gave me a smile. as he walked into the bathroom, i couldn’t help but notice him clutch his stomach just a tiny bit. i guessed that he might’ve been sore from dance practice so i shrugged it off. i sat back down at the chair and pulled my legs up to my chest as i stared at the wall, trying to think of how to start it. i heard the shower head squeak on and water started to poor.

i couldnt think, the only one thing that filled my head was the way hyunjin acted. was he getting hate from social media again? or maybe he was just tired. i turned my focus to the empty doc and watched the small line blink, then fade away. laying on my head on the keyboard out of defeat of my writers block, the keys pressed under the pressure and the letters and symbols appeared on the screen. I turned my head to the side to see a framed photo of me and hyunjin backstage during their maniac tour. He was holding his phone out as he kissed his cheek, eyes closed gently, as i winked, held his cheeks and looked at the camera.

a smile appeared at the sight of the familiar picture. i picked it up to look at it closer, han and minho were making faces at us in the background. then a lightbulb went off in my head. i knew what i was going to write about! i placed the picture back in its place and backspaced all the letters and symbols that had been accidentally pressed into the doc.

i started typing and typed faster than i thought i could. i was so emerged into the essay, i didn’t even notice Hyunjin walk out of the bathroom, change into sweats and a white tee, and crawl into bed. well, that was until about 2 to 3 hours later, my computer was 10% to dying. i sighed and saves the doc before closing the computer and plugging it in. i turned to see hyunjins sleeping figure, his legs bent at his knees and his hands rested under his cheek.

i was slightly confused but he looked so peaceful. he never fell asleep before me, he always made sure i went to sleep before him. i came to a conclusion that today was just hard for him, and he was really tired. I changed into some shorts and a baggy tee i stole from his a few days ago. it was one of his shirts that had been smothered in paint. i thought it looked beautiful, even it was just some splattered colored on a basic light grey tee. it was so beautiful to me, because of the fact that it was made by my boy, my hyunjin.

i slipped into the bed next to him, throwing my arms around his middle. he shivered in his sleep despite feeling hotter than usual. i looked at his face as it scrunched up in slight discomfort. i brought my hand up to his face to brush some hair out of his face, brushing his cheek and forehead in the process. both felt unusually hot. i frowned, thinking possibly hes sick.. but he would’ve told me? he always does. i sighed closing my eyes to fall asleep with him, id make sure to take care of him in the morning.

i woke up to feel hyunjin getting out of bed beside me. “jinnie?” i mumbled, seeing his figure turn in the dark. “im just going to the bathroom..” i sighed and pick up my phone from the bedside table. it was 2:42 am. “just go back to sleep, okay lovely? I’ll be back in a few minutes..” i sighed and laid back in the bed. as he went into the bathroom, i heard him cough a few times and then i thought i heard him.. vomit? “jinnie?”

i opened the door to see him sitting on the floor, hunched over the toilet. i didn’t say another word, i just walked up behind him and held his slightly long, black hair away from his face. the lingering feeling of his skin felt like fire against my fingertips. as i held his hair with one hand, i held his hand gently with the others. “im sorry” he coughed out. he got finished throwing up and laid his head against my chest. i felt a droplet fall onto my leg. i held his head in my hands to look him in the eyes

“why are you crying baby?” i asked as i brushed a tear off his cheek with my thumb. “im sorry i didnt tell you.. im sorry you have to take care of me. i-i know you have an essay to do and- i-“ i kissed his forehead and held him close to my chest again. “don’t apologize.. the essay can wait, ill take care of everythin. of you, my university work, everything.. but you’re my first priority, okay?” i hugged his shoulders as he nodded and sniffed softly. “why didn’t you tell me you were sick my boy?” “you looked so concentrated on your essay.. i didn’t want to make you loose your train of thought.”

i laughed softly. “you we’re my train of thought, i was writing an essay about the cons of being in love with someone.” “you wrote about me?” he whispered as he met his eyes with mine. “yes.. and id do it a thousand times more, i love you hyunjin.. let me take care of you?” “okay..i love you too yn.” i kissed the crown of his head a few times before laughing. “let’s get you into bed, yeah? ill get you some medicine and water.. i know your dehydrated.”

we stood up together and i brought him to bed, tucked him in and set up a desk fan on his night stand. “have i ever told you have good you are to me?” he laughed and held my hand. “all the time..” i respond with a smile. “ill get you some medicine and water, then we can go back to sleep, okay?” “what about your classes tomorrow?” he frowned. “don’t worry, ill work online. ill even work in bed with you if you want.” i brushed his hair back into a ponytail. “and ill talk to minho and chan tomorrow, you won’t have to worry, okay?” “thank you lovely..” “of course.”

i left the room and grabbed him a ice cold water and some medicine. when I came back he smiled at me, taking the medicine, and downing most of the water. “will you stay with me all night?” he asked as he pulled me into bed with him. “however long you want.” he smiled again and held me in his arms. “goodnight, my lovely girl.” “goodnight, my hyunjinnie.”

[theladyofdeath]

Hello, lovely writer!!

Would you be willing to do a Rowaelin where there’s this giant romantic surprise (of your choosing) Rowan’s been planning for weeks

Valentines, anniversary, just because he can.

No pressure if you don’t like it.

A/N: I had a thousand ideas for this one, but I decided to keep it simple. I hope you enjoy! x Warnings: language

Everything was set, ready.

Rowan knew because he'd checked ten times and then once more for good measure. Although a cliche to propose to your girlfriend on Valentine's Day, Rowan thought it would surprise Aelin the most, considering he often ranted about how much he hated romantic cliches.

Gods, he was nervous.

Rowan was standing on a rooftop, surrounded by lanterns, string lights, and white rose petals. He was dressed in a suit that was way too expensive. He'd bought it that morning and physically flinched when he swiped his card, but he looked pretty damn good, so it was worth it.

At least, that's what Lysandra convinced him of.

Now he stood alone, waiting. Lysandra was supposed to pick Aelin up for a group date, where they would meet Rowan and Aedion at one of their favorite restaurants on this side of town. Little did Aelin know that they would be arriving at Rowan's apartment complex and coming up to the rooftop, overlooking the city of Orynth.

Little did she know that Rowan was about to ask her to be his wife.

He'd wanted to do it for a while now, but really grew serious about it a few months before. It wasn't something he wanted to rush, but something he wanted to take his time with. Aelin didn't deserve a spur of the moment proposal. She deserved a proposal as grand and dramatic as she was.

Rowan went to the railing and looked down at the street below. There was still no sign of Aelin.

They were taking forever.

Pulling out his phone, he shot a quick text to Lysandra. ETA?

She texted him back right away. We'll be there soon. Deep breaths.

Rolling his eyes, Rowan put his phone back into his pocket. Deep breaths. Like he wasn't calm. He was calm.

No, he wasn't.

He took Lysandra's advice and closed his eyes, taking in one deep breath after another. He did another check in his jacket pocket for the custom ring he'd had made for Aelin, tucked inside of a small velvet box. It was there, just like it had been every other time that he'd checked.

He paced for another fifteen minutes before his phone vibrated again. Lysandra. We have arrived.

Rowan went to the far side of the roof, where he stood beneath a flower arch. At first, Rowan had been against the white arch spun in roses, but Lysandra had insisted that it wasn't over the top. It was just enough.

He felt like he'd been standing there forever, alone on the roof, beneath the arch, but then the roof door opened, and she came out onto the rooftop.

Lysandra gave Rowan a wink before shutting the door, leaving the two of them alone.

Aelin barely made it beyond the door as she stared around the roof in awe, before her gaze landed on Rowan.

"Ro," she breathed, "what the hell is going on?"

This was it.

He felt like he was going to vomit.

"You don't like it?" he teased.

Aelin let out a shaky laugh, her eyes already misty. "I love it. I love it, Ro."

She made it to Rowan at last, between the aisle of rose petals. And before he said anything, Rowan fell to one knee.

"Aelin," he began, slowly, looking up at her, "I-"

"Yes."

Rowan hesitated. "Yes?"

"Yes."

He laughed, quietly. "I haven't even said anything yet."

"It doesn't matter." She was already crying, taking his hands. "My answer is yes."

Now Rowan was thrown off. Happy, overjoyed, excited as fuck, but thrown off. "Should I just get rid of the speech I wrote, then?"

He had been writing it for weeks.

Surely someone should hear it.

Aelin laughed again, shaking her head. "No, no, I'm sorry, please, I want to hear it."

Rowan opens his mouth, but soft laughter is all that comes out. This woman drove him mad. All this planning, all these months, and she just comes in hot, saying yes. But he can’t be mad, because that’s why he fell in love with her. She’s headstrong, she knows what she wants, and she does what she wants without waiting for anyone else.

So Rowan shook his head and said, “I love you. I want you every day, for the rest of my life.”

Aelin waited for him to go on with misty eyes, but when he didn’t, she asked, “Oh, shit, was that it?”

Ignoring the two page speech in his pocket, Rowan said, “Marry me.”

The tears in Aelin's eyes spilled over as she nodded, and then she was kissing him, urgently, relentlessly. "Of course. Of course."

Rowan was so caught up in the moment that he almost forgot about the ring. For something he had been planning for months, nothing was going as planned, but it was all so much better than he could have imagined.

Yes.

She told him yes.

Nothing else mattered.

Everything else was irrelevenant.

Nonetheless, Rowan took the little velvet box out of his pocket and opened it up. Aelin began crying all over again, holding out her left hand in anticipation. Rowan slid the ring onto her finger and they both stared, in awe of this moment.

This was it.

This was the moment that they would tell their children about, their grandchildren about. And it was perfect, even if all of Rowan's planning had gone completely down the drain.

He didn't care about the planning.

He didn't care about any of it. All he cared about was the fact that Aelin had said yes, that she was going to be his wife.

Considering that, nothing else mattered.

[naminethewriter]

Extra Service

Chapter Two: The Brother

Masterpost | Chapter 1 | Chapter 3 | Ao3

Hello everyone! I'm finally returning to this story and hopefully the third chapter won't take me as long as this one has 😅 Please be mindful of the content warnings, if you would rather skip this chapter, there is a summary of it at then end of the Ao3 link.

Story Summary: Remus hadn't expected to work as a housekeeper at a hotel managed by his best friend but he wasn't complaining. Especially if it gives him the opportunity to keep a (very attractive) guest from overworking himself.

Content Warnings: Past Roman/Virgil, Discussion of Past Self Neglect, bordering on self harm, but not from the person themselves

~~*~~

Soon Logan had showered and the salad had arrived. Remus used the time in between to roughly vacuum the room and use some air refreshener so he could finally close the windows. He also pushed the books and papers around to make space on the tabledesk for the salad. Thankfully nothing fell to the floor (though some of the stacks were very wobbly and Remus couldn’t help but imagine what it would look like if one crashed into the salad and food and plate shards would fly everywhere. His brain tried to get him to topple it, but he managed to resist. Barely.)

Logan emerged from the bathroom in shirt and sweatpants (since Remus had refused to let him take another suit), a towel around his shoulder and still trying to dry his hair. Remus grinned at him and stood behind the chair as if he were a gentleman offering a seat to his lady. He could be courteous if he wanted to be!

“Is this really necessary?” Logan asked, eyeing him skeptically.

“No,” Remus grinned but didn’t move. The other sighed and sat down without another word. Remus pushed his chair closer to the tabledesk with a giggle before sitting down himself and resting his elbows on the polished wood, watching Logan intently. The other raised an eyebrow at him.

“Do you intent to watch me eat?”

“Yeah!”

“Why?”

“To make sure you finish! Also thought this is a good opportunity to tell you why I’m doing this! You said you wanted to know and it’s gonna take a while, so…”

Logan sighed again but picked up the fork Remus had placed in its proper place next to the plate, motioning for him to continue.

“Very well. Do explain yourself.”

“Chance to ramble? I will take it!” Remus grinned at Logan, who looked a bit more reprehensive but didn’t protest. Instead, he started eating his salad, though his eyes remained on Remus for the most part. Before starting his explanation, Remus took a moment to appreciate how Logan’s lips closed around his fork. He really hoped he’d get an opportunity to taste those lips for himself. Only with consent, of course.

‘Focus on the issue now, fantasize about the hot nerd later!’ he reminded himself.

“You see, I have a brother, a twin, actually,” Remus began, leaning back in his seat. “He’s a bit of a dumbass but has a good heart, y’know? We’re both the creative types, though I mostly work with sculptures, art, and pottery – I teach a late-night class actually! Doesn’t pay well, but it’s fun for the most part – while he’s more of a writer. He’s also a perfectionist, which I am most definitely not, I let my hands wander and see where they get me!” Remus winked at Logan but either the other didn’t understand his innuendo or had a great poker face. ‘Uhhh, you should invite him to play strip poker with you! That’d be fun!’ He tabledesked that idea for later, he should probably ask him on a more normal date first and see where that’ll lead him.

“Aaaaaaanyway,” Remus continued, “my brother decided he wanted to write a play and then perform it in our local theater where he works. His boss basically green-lit the whole thing after Ro-bro gave him the pitch but had some guidelines. Nothing major, but enough that my brother felt the pressure.”

Remus could see Logan watching him intently – those deep green eyes were so hot – while he slowly chewed his food. He seemed the observant type, but even if he wasn’t, it was hard to miss the shift in tone. Remus couldn’t tell this story without being somber, it was a time he didn’t like revisiting.

“Roman threw himself into his work. It was fun at first, see him talk about it so passionately, what his plans for the characters were, the twists and turns and how he could see it performed on stage already. His boyfriend at the time was also super supportive, the both of us rubber ducking him constantly.” A wry smile played on Remus’ lips. He took a deep breath before continuing.

“But writing’s fucking hard if you didn’t know. The words can be perfectly aligned in your head but once you put them to paper they look mangled, like rotting corpses you clumsily stitched together and suddenly the eyes aren’t on the same height and one arm’s longer than the other and you forgot a nipple and maybe even a spleen, so how are you supposed to create a functioning monster?!”

“I understand your point, Remus,” Logan cut in before he could get even more lost in the rather gruesome picture he was figuratively painting. “I assume your brother struggled with the writing process once he got started.”

“Yeah, he did. Like a lot. And when he can’t get what’s in his head on the page the way he wants it to be, he gets frustrated and that leads to him struggling with the words even more and it’s a vicious circle. He started spending more and more time at his desk. When he wasn’t working, he was writing. Or attempting to write. He started losing sleep. I often had to drag him to meals. He cancelled plans or didn’t show up at all because he forgot all about them. It was really worrying.

“And it really put his boyfriend on edge. Like the dude’s been a friend of mine before he got together with my brother and anxiety is like half of his personality. So having plans cancelled on him constantly and his boyfriend not taking care of himself properly led to some problems.”

Remus’ had to make a conscious effort to relax his hands after they curled into fists. To be honest, he still hadn’t entirely forgiven Roman for how he treated Virgil during the last legs of their relationship. It hadn’t been fair to the Emo and while his brother had admitted to his faults, Remus just couldn’t get Virgil’s red-rimmed eyes out of his mind. ‘You should revisit that idea about dunking his head in the toilet bowl’ his head suggested and Remus waved the idea off. Roman would wiggle too much.

“It came to a head eventually and the guy broke up with him. Which sucked because I liked him, but because of his anxiety he needed a clean break, so he asked me not to contact him either for a while. Which turned out to be never, but that was more my fault than his I guess.”

Logan raised an eyebrow. (Remus wondered how often he worked on those; they were immaculately symmetrical.)

“What do you mean by more your fault?” he asked.

“Well, like I said, I was friends with the guy so I knew that he would have trouble reaching out to me first. I should’ve contacted him after the situation settled somewhat, but I didn’t.”

“Why?”

Remus chuckled but it was a dry and sad sound.

“I… always had the feeling that he was kinda afraid of me. I know I come on strong, and I have intrusive thoughts and keeping them in my head is hard, so I usually blurt them out or use them for my art and he… well, it often triggered his anxiety. I didn’t really want to contact him and have him feel like he needed to talk to me again.”

Virgil had been a good sport about it most of the time but even before he started dating Roman, he had visited Remus in his art studio less and less. He took great care to censor his words in front of him, too, but it sucked that he couldn’t discuss things with Virgil freely anymore. It was like he had to be constantly on guard around the man and it only got worse during Roman’s breakdown.

Remus missed Virgil, but he figured he was better off without him in his life. At least Janus still contacted him once in a while, so he knew he was doing well enough. It was a small comfort.

Logan had put his fork aside and was watching Remus with his piercing green eyes. He felt like a bug underneath a microscope and that shouldn’t have had him as hot and bothered as it did. Well, not literally bothered – don’t get him wrong, the dude was hot and being examined by him so intently was a nice bonus, but Remus needed more than that to actually get physically excited.

It would lead to new fantasies however; he was sure of that.

“I get the impression that that conclusion is based on a cognitive distortion,” Logan commented eventually. Remus just blinked at him. “In other words, I think you are jumping to a conclusion. If that man was your friend for as long as you are implying, then I am sure he would appreciate you contacting him again.”

“You stopped eating,” Remus said instead of answering and after a few moments of simply staring at each other (‘Staring contest! Staring contest! How long would it take for their eyes to dry out?), Logan relented with a sigh and picked his fork back up.

“Very well, I will not meddle in your personal affairs. Unlike other people, I respect such boundaries.”

Remus cackled at the obvious jab at his intrusion and as he calmed down, he could see a small smile on Logan’s lips, though he tried to hide it behind the next bite of his meal.

“Well, back to the story: my brother got dumped. Which I had hoped would be a wake-up call for him to quit the bullshit and realize how bad he’s gotten. But instead he doubled down. Every waking minute he had that wasn’t spend at work, he was writing the script – or more accurately, he tried writing it. More and more often I would hear him shouting at his laptop about how nothing was going like he wanted it to, how it needed to be perfect, how he would show everyone that he could do it.

“I tried to get him to eat and sleep, but it would only end up in yelling matches. We both don’t have great tempers and more than once I stormed off and didn’t return until like a day later. I don’t think he left his desk in those days…”

Remus sighed, remembering the sorry state of his brother, hunched over his laptop with bags under his eyes that reminded him so much of Virgil that Remus was almost glad that Roman was hardly going to the bathroom so he wouldn’t catch his own reflection in the mirror.

It had been an absolute trainwreck.

“Eventually, my brother collapsed during one of our fights. Passed out on the spot. I barely managed to catch him before he would’ve hit his head on the ground. He woke up only moments after and tried to convince me that it was just a dizzy-spell and that it wasn’t anything to worry about, but I had enough. I carried him off to the hospital right then and there.”

Roman had fought him the entire way, cursing at him and demanding to be brought back home. He almost fainted again in the car since he worked himself up so much. Remus had thought about pulling into the oncoming traffic and putting them both out of their misery – the stress had made his intrusive thoughts so much worse.

“I got him to cooperate by saying that if nothing was wrong, the doctor would just let him go home and I’d leave him alone afterwards if that was the case. He still complained though. Then he was diagnosed with severe malnutrition and anemia. He had to stay there for a few days.”

“And did he do so without complaint?”

Remus had almost forgotten Logan was there. Almost. He looked back at the other – after he had apparently just stared at the wall for the last few minutes – to see that he had finished his plate.

Good.

“Yeah. I’m not entirely sure what happened since I wasn’t allowed to be there when they took his vitals and shit but apparently one of the nurses laid into him about proper self-care and that he could’ve killed himself. I think only then he truly registered how bad it’s gotten.”

“I see…” Logan looked thoughtfully at his empty plate and Remus just watched him until he spoke up again. “And what happened after? Did your brother finish the play?”

“He did. Took a long break from it though. Went to therapy. He’s doing well now, has a sleep and eating schedule and goes to the gym on the regular. It’s kind of annoying how toned he’s getting. Jan sure appreciates it though.” Remus wiggled his eyebrows, but once again Logan doesn’t react to his implications.

“What about the performance?”

“What performance?”

“Of the play. You said that your brother was ensured that he could perform the play at his place of employment.”

“Oh! He didn’t go through with it.”

Logan blinked at him, surprised.

“What do you mean ‘he didn’t go through with it’? Doesn’t that make the entire ordeal worthless?”

“It wasn’t worthless,” Remus said softly, feeling like this might be the point where he can get through to Logan. “Roman learned a lot from it. So did I, to be honest. The entire thing helped my brother to grow as a person. Yeah, he finished the play, but he had to rewrite around half of it since what he wrote during his mania was either awful, extremely personal, and or sometimes even harmful. And even after all that editing, he still found it too close to his heart to publish. He says that maybe sometime down the line, when he’s healed more, then he'd put it on, but not right now.”

“I… think I understand. Still, I cannot shake the belief that it means his struggles were for naught.”

“I know where you’re coming from, but productivity isn’t all we live for. Learning from our struggles and teaching that to those who come after us is what I think we’re supposed to do.”

“That is quite the profound way to see the world.”

Remus shrugged and leaned back in his chair.

“Maybe. It’s at least what led to me coming in through that door and forcing you to take care of yourself. Which reminds me, you should be going to bed.” He got up and pulled at Logan’s arm.

“Sleep?! It’s the middle of the day!” the other protested, but Remus remained insistent and led him over to the freshly made, plush bed.

“Yeah, but that hardly matters when you’ve been up for who knows how many hours. Your eyebags make you look like a raccoon. Oh, maybe I should’ve gotten you your dinner out of the garbage bins outside!”

Finally, he managed to push Logan onto the bed who looked at him with trepidation.

“I cannot go to sleep, I need to finish my work,” he insisted.

“Pish-posh, I bet you can barely remember what you’ve been writing for the past few hours anyway. Get some rest and then look over what you wrote again, I’m sure you’ll want to make some changes. Sleep-deprived brains rarely put out the work in a quality you want.” Remus pushed at his shoulders until Logan was lying down and then covered him with a blanket.

“Fine,” the other sighed. “But I need to set an alarm. I have a deadline.”

“How about I’m gonna come by when my shift ends in—” Remus glanced at his wristwatch—  “about four hours? I’ll help you sort through those books, too, since I kinda just put them together willy-nilly.”

“I guess that’s acceptable.”

It seemed that lying down had a quick effect on Logan as he let out a long yawn and snuggled deeper into the comforting warmth. Remus smiled, proud to see him follow his advice and relax.

“Then see you in a few, Lolo! Sleep tight and don’t let the bed bugs bite!”

“If they do, I’ll sue you.”

Remus grinned as he listened to Logan’s half-asleep mumble before he gathered up his used dishes and silently tiptoed out of the room.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 3

[kikiiswashere]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love 💗

Ahh! Thanks Medic! I love the idea of all of us sharing what we are proud of 🥰

It'll be hard to pick only 5 of my children, but here we go!

Obviously (at least to me 😅) I am most proud of my growing baby Children of Zaun. It'll be 2(!) next month, and I'm really proud that my commitment to telling this story has remained consistent. I am incredibly humbled and grateful for the readers who have stuck it out this far with this tale - especially in a fandom that feels a little dormant right now. CoZ has turned out to be a behemoth that is growing me as a writer and I am so happy its a story I get to tell.

Unfinished is next up. It was the first time I ever wrote a Reader-Insert story, and I was nervous going about it. Not only that, but I decided to make it a gender-neutral reader, which added another layer of challenge (for me, as I identify as a woman). I wanted the writing to be inclusive, but not pandering or deingenuous.

Waltzing for Three is a little diddy that wouldn't leave my head. I had a lot of fun writing it (gave me more practice with Read-Insert), and I've been pleasantly surprised at how many others enjoyed this piece 🥰 A part 2 may be gestating.

High Water I am proud of because it was my first time writing canon-Jinx. Mental illness and trauma and grief are always delicate things to write responsibly and respectfully (I think, anyway). I hope I did her justice.

Wink is another favorite of mine. I love how goofy and stupid it is 😆 Reader openly being a menace to the most dangerous man in the Undercity? Yes plz.

[acacia-may]

I'll Have To Say I Love You In A Song (Black Clover Spatial Brothers Family Fluff Fic)

Description: Langris loses more than he bargained for when he loses a bet to Vanessa and she takes the opportunity to throw a concert staring both him and his older brother, Finral. He should've never told her he could play the lute...

Rating: G

Warnings: None besides Langris being Langris, I guess, but really this is all just fluff & shenanigans

Fandom: Black Clover

Genre: Family Fluff, Friendship Fluff, Shenanigans, Sea Shanty Langris & Ukulele Finral (Basically an AU), Tsundere Langris Vaude, Platonic Use of "I Love You," Spatial Mage Brothers Fluff, Langris Vaude Is Bad At Feelings, and (Somewhat Silly) Warm & Fuzzies

Relationships: Langris Vaude & Finral Roulacase Brotherly Relationship Centric (A/N: look at my boys actually getting along...sort of...), Langris Vaude & Vanessa Enoteca Friendship, Langris Vaude, Finral Roulacase, Vanessa Enoteca & Finesse Calmreich Friendship, Some (Minor) Langris Vaude/Finesse Calmreich

Characters: Langris Vaude (POV Character), Vanessa Enoteca, Finral Roulacase, and Finesse Calmreich (Charmy & Rill are briefly mentioned)

Word Count: 2201

Link to original post on AO3. Please do not repost to another site.

Note: This story was specifically written for and gifted to another writer friend of mine who had the idea of "Sea Shanty Langris" having a double act with Finral (who plays the ukulele). It was heavily inspired by the song "I'll Have To Say I Love You In A Song" by Jim Croce (YouTube), and the song is (briefly) quoted in the piece denoted by italicized text & quotation marks.

Story Below the Cut. Thank you for reading!

Langris always knew his competitive streak would get him into trouble one day. What he didn’t know was that this “trouble” would land him behind the curtains of the little stage at Charmy and Vanessa’s restaurant, nervously twisting his hands around the neck of his lute. He should have never told that drunk witch he could play. That was his first mistake. His second was underestimating how good she was at cards.

“You ready, Langris?” she asked with a wink and a smile.

His brow furrowed, and he frowned at her. “This is ridiculous,” he muttered bitterly, but Vanessa just laughed.

“A bet is a bet, and you lost,” she insisted with a slight shrug of her shoulders and a pointed tilt of her head.

Langris huffed. He was sure that a normal person would have wanted money as spoils of gambling, but Vanessa wasn’t a normal person. He should have known she would want to humiliate him if she beat him—his third mistake. He huffed again. “Can’t you just take my money or something?”

“Nope.” Vanessa winked at him again. “I want to hear you play, and this is my only chance.”

“I already told you I’m terrible at it. It was just a hobby I tried to pick up…”—he shook his head—“I’m not musician.”

“We’ll see…” hummed Vanessa.

Langris wrinkled his nose at her. “Don’t you think you’re taking this too far? You picked my song. You made me wear this ridiculous outfit—”

“Hey!” she interrupted. “I made that.”

Langris blinked at her. He was honestly a little surprised that she would take ownership of having sewn these clothes. He certainly wouldn’t have. The shirt was striped in blindingly bright colors and had a deep v in the neckline that laced in the front for goodness only knows why, and his pair of dark, skinny pants were too snug—Langris suspected on purpose. To top it all off, Vanessa had also given him a pair of bloodred boots with curled, pointed toes and an earring that she, herself, had clipped onto his right ear. He shook his head. “I look like a pirate.”

“It’s a good look for you—very handsome.” Laughing, Vanessa ruffled her hand through his hair, and Langris glowered at her though his cheeks grew warm, in spite of himself. “Mmm…” she hummed thoughtfully, taking a step back to look at him.  “Though now that I’m seeing it all together it kind of reminds me of Finral.”

Langris bristled. That only made it worse.

“I hate you…” he muttered dryly, under his breath, but Vanessa just ruffled his hair again with an affectionate smile like he was just a huffy little kid.

“I know that’s not true,” she replied playfully tapping him on the nose. Langris’ cheeks flushed pink, but he crossed his arms.

“What if I just…refuse?”

Vanessa quirked an eyebrow at him, but she shrugged. “You won’t. I know you won’t. You lost, and you know it. You won’t be able to live with yourself if you don’t hold up your end of the bargain.”

“But I didn’t agree to any of this,” Langris protested more forcefully than he had been intending.  

“Look,” sighed Vanessa. “You can get huffy with me all you want, but I won fair and square and I’m not the one who had an existential crisis and learned how to play the lute.” She chuckled before she teased, “How exactly did that happen again?”

“I don’t know,” hissed Langris through his teeth. “You tell me.”

Vanessa rolled her eyes, but she eventually played along and bantered. “Well, I think it was probably something along the lines of: your brother ripped the rug out from under you and stole everything you ever wanted”—she began counting on her fingers—“your home, your title, your future, the only woman you ever loved—”

“That’s not—!” Langris stopped abruptly as he watched Vanessa’s mouth twitch into a smile at his flaming cheeks which told a much different story than his impassioned protestations.

Her smile widened. “So then you decided you had nothing to lose by just picking up the lute and following your dreams of singing sea shanties in bars.”

Pressing his palm to his forehead, Langris let out a long and disgruntled sigh. “I wish I had never told you about that.”

“Well, you did so no use in getting upset about it now, and come on... I’m not even making you play in front my customers.” She paused. “Because I want them to come back.”

Vanessa winked at him. Langris, however, was entirely unamused.

“And you don’t even have to play by yourself,” she continued.

Langris snorted. “What? Are you going to play with me?”

“Not me,” said Vanessa with a bright smile.

As if on cue, Finral appeared out of a shiny, spatial portal in the wall wearing a nearly identical outfit. Langris’ eyes narrowed, but his brother beamed at him with an exuberant wave of his hand. “Hi Langris!”

“No.” Langris turned to Vanessa with a pointed glare. “Absolutely not.”

“Aww, but Langris I’ve been practicing,” Finral insisted. “I felt bad that you had to play all by yourself, so I thought we could play together.”

“No,” Langris repeated even more forcefully than before. “This is humiliating enough. The last thing I need is you showing me up on the piano.”

“I wasn’t going to play piano.” Finral explained with an understanding nod. “I’ve been practicing the ukulele.”

With a proud smile, Finral held up the instrument, and Langris buried his face in his hands. This couldn’t be happening.

After a deep breath, he turned almost pleadingly to Vanessa, but the amused look on her face made it abundantly clear that she could never be persuaded to see reason. That didn’t stop Langris from trying, however.

“Vanessa please. I’ve been a good sport up until now.”

Vanessa just laughed, and Langris supposed he probably deserved that after having been basically forced into this concert kicking, screaming, and complaining the entire time.

“Try again,” she quipped teasingly. Langris rolled his eyes but sighed.

“The song. How will we split up the song?”

Vanessa hummed. “I’m sure you’ll figure something out.”

“I’m not here to steal your thunder,” Finral interjected, and Langris shook his head.

“That’s not what I’m worried about…I…” He stumbled over his words, scrambling to find the most compelling argument he could think of. “You really think I should be singing a love song with my brother.”

Vanessa’s brow furrowed thoughtfully, but a smile tugged at her mouth. “It’s not necessarily a romantic love song. I think it’s the perfect song choice.”

Something sparkled in her eyes as they met his, and Langris huffed. She had planned this all along. Of course, she had.

“Fine. Whatever…” Langris conceded at last. “Let’s just get this over with…”

*-*-*

After around five minutes of hushed mumblings and scrambling to figure out who would sing or play what and Vanessa’s insistence that Langris himself sing the chorus, they finally walked out onto the stage with lute and ukulele in hand. Thankfully the restaurant was empty, as Vanessa had promised, and they were the only ones there save Charmy and Rill who were seated with Vanessa at a table closest to the stage. Langris tried his best to ignore them as he began the intro, and Finral quickly joined in on the ukulele. He could feel himself unintentionally speeding up the tempo as he grew more and more nervous and more and more eager for this nightmare to finally be over. Finral quirked an eyebrow at him but continued strumming his ukulele trying to keep Langris’ uneven time.

When it was Langris’ turn to sing, his voice came out emotionless, disgruntled, and almost flat. Vanessa looked far too happy about this. He glared right at her as he half-talked, half-sang through his teeth, “Every time I tried to tell you, the words just came out wrong so I’ll—” His voice cracked, and he stopped abruptly as his eyes widened. In the back wall of the restaurant near the bar stood Finesse, still dressed in her coat and scarf.

“Langris?” whispered Finral in confusion before he, too, noticed their unexpected guest. “Finesse?” he exclaimed with a bright smile. “You came!”

“You invited her?” choked Langris with red cheeks.

Finral sheepishly scratched the nape of his neck. “Well…you know…she loves music and so I thought she’d like to see us play together.”

“I’m so sorry I’m late,” said Finesse as her face flushed.

“You’re right on time,” insisted Vanessa with a reassuring smile as she draped an arm around her and led her off to their table. “Finral and Langris were just warming up. Right, boys?”

Langris could have sworn she winked directly at him. He swallowed hard.

“Yeah…that was just practice,” said Finral with a bright smile before glancing over at Langris who barely managed a nod between his pounding heartbeat and trembling hands. He couldn’t believe Vanessa…or perhaps he could believe her which only made things worse. If he had to venture a guess this had been her plan all along. Langris huffed. If he wasn’t so livid, he might have been a little impressed. As it was now, however, he was much too nervous about the situation at hand to feel much of anything else.

When he and Finral began their song again, Langris found he couldn’t look at their audience, so he turned his attention to his brother and tried to lose himself in the music.

His shaking fingers somehow plucked the strings on the lute, and his singing voice, though it wavered a bit, rang out clear and crisp in the empty restaurant, “Every time I tried to tell you, the words just came out wrong…So I’ll have to say ‘I love you’ in a song…”

Langris’ brow furrowed as he heard his brother sniffle. He shook his head slightly as he began to play the interlude. His dumb brother…There were tears glistening in the corners of his eyes.

Something suddenly panged in Langris’ chest, and he immediately felt very exposed—vulnerable. His cheeks flushed. Was his brother picking up some emotion in his words that Langris’ hadn’t intended? He had started to sing to him only because, in the moment, he had thought it would be the least embarrassing—that his brother was the least likely person in the room to judge him for singing something so soppy, but now he has to go and…and cry like that…like he had never heard…

Langris stopped abruptly—before realizing almost immediately that he was still supposed to be playing. He willed his trembling hands to find their notes as he ignored the blinking light suddenly clicking on in his brain. No wonder Finral was crying. He had never actually heard Langris say he loved him before.

His face grew incredibly warm, and he was certain he was blushing a bright red. He had been so worried about inadvertently expressing romantic love to Lady Finesse that he hadn’t even considered the possibility of expressing familial love to his brother instead, in his quest to avoid spilling the contents of his heart. Resisting the urge to bury his face in his hands, Langris let out a long and heavy sigh. After all that time that Vanessa had pushed and prodded him to tell his brother how much he meant to him and to tell Finesse how he really felt, she had essentially tricked him into singing it. He couldn’t even bring himself to look at what was surely an incredibly smug expression on her face. The last thing he needed right now was one of her teasing winks and knowing smiles. That brilliant, conniving drunk witch covering all of her bases…

Yes, he conceded, she was brilliant—infuriating but brilliant, and—his mouth twitched just barely in the corners—he had to admit she had got him. So, he sighed with a tilt of his head in her general direction as he started the chorus again.

*-*-*

“So I’ll have to say I love you in a song…”

As soon as the last chord sounded, his brother threw his arms around him and hugged him tightly with tears in his eyes. “I love you too, Langris!” exclaimed Finral far too loudly.

With flushing cheeks, Langris wrinkled his nose and patted his brother on the back. “Yeah…yeah…whatever.”

Over Finral’s shoulder he could see Lady Finesse sniffling with misty-eyes, but she said gently, “I had no idea you had such a nice singing voice, Langris.”

Langris cleared his throat and ignored the blush creeping into his cheeks. He met Vanessa’s eyes which were much more empathetic and touched than vindicated. Still she gave him that all-too-familiar knowing smile, and with just that hint of bantering smugness, she mouthed the words, “you’re welcome” at him.

Langris rolled his eyes, but he sighed and patted his still crying brother on the shoulder. He would have time to get back at her later, but, for now at least, he supposed she was right—he really did have to say ‘I love you’ in a song.