#I have ideas for a few more little snippets like this and the order they get posted in is purely gonna depend on which one holds my interes

[thestarfishface]

Something a little different, but I've been toying around with prose recently and wrote a little short story about Verity's old crew!

What's currently posted is the first half of a rough chapter idea I have planned- I gotta hash out exactly what I wanna do for the back half, but I think the first part stands okay on its own! Look out for a continuation in the future, though :>

[winchesternova-k]

well i didn’t get my laundry done but i did finally have to spoons to work on my wip. i wrote 2.2k words. i’m not sure if they’re all good words but by God i wrote them

[arafilez]

CHAPTER: LOVE ㅤㅤㅤ☆ ㅤ — ﹙ BND ﹚

WHERE boynextdoor ㅤ,ㅤ are love tropes !

ㅤㅤㅤ ᶻzㅤ( ot6 x reader ) 𓂃 ㅤ drabbles ㅤ valentines 2k25ㅤ warnings food (sungho) , peck (jaehyun) ㅤ⋆ ㅤ( 500 / mem ) ㅤ ❟❟ㅤ library ㅤ bnd shelfㅤ navi

PARK SUNGHO

trope: exes to lovers now playing: new year’s day

You couldn’t even blame Sungho for ruining Valentine’s for you forever. Back when you were together you would get so spoiled by him that it isn’t even funny now. You knew it was the truth when you came to the realisation nobody could treat the way Sungho used to do.

But what’s done is done. You two broke up, he is your ex now and there’s nothing you can do about it. You walk towards your café to order a croissant because that is the least you can do to treat yourself on Valentine’s Day. You pity yourself a little but that regret soon fades away as you smell the baked goods from outside the shop.

Snippets of memory flow over your head as you two would fight for the last bite of the chocolate donut and he would purposely hold it out of your reach. He once whined so bad saying you cheated as you had kissed him and snatched the donut, giggling all the way.

You shake your head not wanting to be reminded of it as you swing the door to walk inside. So when you lightly bump into a guy with the exact build as Sungho you had to think the universe was playing cruel tricks on you. You hesitantly look up and immediately regret it as you see the familiar face stare back at you.

“Y/n,” he gasps as a light smile spreads across his face and you curse yourself for wanting to kiss it off him. “Sungho,” you try to make your voice as enthusiastic as possible as you continue, “Long time no see.” That was a lie, you had seen him around the corner just a few days ago.

“Yeah, how are you?” he asks, again a lie, you both know because he follows you in Instagram. “Good,” you reply quietly as he nods, looking down at your hands once before bidding you goodbye.

You have walked two steps ahead when you suddenly turn back and call, “Sungho.”

“Yeah,” he replies almost instantly making your heart beat a little faster in your chest. “Do you want to call tonight?” you ask suddenly. You have no idea where this sudden bravery came from but you are glad and scared at the same time now that it did.

Sungho inhales lightly as a small smile spreads on his face as he nods and replies, “Yeah sure.” You don’t know what the future holds and neither does he does but maybe this was a little ray of hope.

LEE SANGHYEOK

trope: sunshine x grumpy now playing: midnight rain

You sign in annoyance when Riwoo picks up the controller again and you snatch it out of his hand, yanking open the cable from the plug point and look at him. He smiles brightly when he sees your grimacing face and jokes, “Come on grumpy don’t glare at me like that.”

“It is Valentine’s Day, don’t you have anything better to do than play LoL?” He pouts and you roll your eyes at him. Everyone in your brother’s friend circle knows how much straightforward you are. Jaehyun has tried to set you up with Riwoo because according to him you are in desperate need of some “sunshine” in your life.

“I am spending the day with you, aren’t I?” Riwoo winks and you gasp at his answer. He walks off to Jaehyun’s room and you exhale, hating for even being born. The way his words has set your whole face on fire should be researched. Hell Riwoo can graze his hands casually and you will be firing up for no reason. You open your phone is frustration and scroll until you find a fluff fanfiction you feel like reading.

The reader kisses the person’s nose. Cringe. You will definitely read it.

And do it to Riwoo, your mind screams and you want nothing more than to punch your mind. You keep reading trying to focus on the story and not think how it is so fitting with Riwoo.

“For someone who is always scowling you like reading stuff that make normal people giggle,” a voice interrupted your reading and you jump as Riwoo slides besides you, still grinning. You hate yourself for how your eyes instantly dropped to his nose.

Stop it.

You force yourself to look into his eyes and it doesn’t help a lot since they look like a whole galaxy of stars. How can someone’s eyes hold so much adoration and spark?

“Why are you looking at my nose weirdly?” he chuckles and the answer rolls off your lips before you can stop yourself, “If I was yours I would just spend the day kissing it.”

Your eyes widen and you want the ground to swallow you whole while Riwoo loud laugh fills the room. You look at him and the way his nose scrunches, soft hair falling on his lashes as he continues laughing and asks, “Is that a line from the thing you were reading?”

“No, stop it,” you whine and your ears, heck, your whole body feel on fire as you look at Riwoo who is smiling and looking at you. “You say that but you look at me like this,” you pout and it takes all of his strength to not press his lips to yours right then and there.

“Like what?” he asks and you glare half-heartedly but he continues, “If you mean like I am head over heels for you, then yes, I do look at you like that.”

Your breath gets stuck at your throat and you don’t trust your voice too much but you blabber out, “Don’t ask me out on Valentine’s, that’s cliché as hell.”

“I can do all kinds of cliché things for you though,” Riwoo’s smiles brighten and you wish for nothing more actually.

MYUNG JAEHYUN

trope: brother’s best friend now playing: stupid in love

The only way you can describe Myung Jaehyun is BF! Big Flirt! Even your brother who is his best friend got a taste of his flirt when he tried to take a lollipop from his mouth.

So when the door of your house swings open and Jaehyun enters the house where you are alone you know you are doomed. Mostly because of your very obvious crush on him. “Y/n,” he says and you nod somehow saying, “Jaehyun.”

“Where’s Sungho?” he casually places the question as you look at him and reply, “Missing your babygirl on Valentine’s Day?” You don’t hide your sarcastic tone but Jaehyun is faster as he replies, “Why? You jealous?”

You scoff thrice at the sentence and then laugh awkwardly as you look away cursing yourself at the awkward reaction. You quietly move around stuff in the kitchen doing nothing actually. The perfume he has worn is too addicting for your own good and you question how you can even smell it when he is literally on the other side of the room.

You turn around and yelp as you see Jaehyun standing in front of you with a tiny smirk on his face. “What are you doing?” you ask nervously as you realise how close he is. He is not close enough to be in your personal space but he is definitely close enough to make your breath stop.

Your back hits the kitchen counter comically even though he didn’t take a single step ahead baffling your mind. Jaehyun sees the chance and walks towards you trapping you into his arms as you frantically look anywhere other than his eyes.

“Look at me,” you hear his soft voice making you sigh because you definitely cannot look at him. “You know you are very obvious,” he giggles making you let out a small noise of desperation as you pout looking at him. “Fine, congratulations you caught me,” you sigh throwing your head back and making him smile as he finds you adorable.

“I am very obvious too but you are too oblivious to notice,” if one sentence can drive you crazy it was this one that just left Jaehyun’s mouth as you look back at him and he shrugs. You feel speechless because never in your entire life did you expect him to fall for you. But before you can reply he pecks you lightly making you trip on air as he giggles and says, “So how long should this be a secret from Sungho?”

HAN DONGMIN

trope: enemies to lovers now playing: title

Taesan had to be the bane of your existence because why else would the universe send you such a person who has to test your patience in every single step. So when he asks for your help in a subject you don’t trust him at all.

But now that you are actually sitting in the library you think you are wrong. You move uncomfortably in your seat as he quietly does the question and you can’t help but blurt out, “Why are you so quiet?”

“Aww you already miss my voice?” he cocks his head sideways making you take a deep breath so you don’t murder him right then and there. “You wish,” you grit out as he lets out a menacing laugh leaning over the table saying, “Sweetheart I wish for a lot of things.”

“Eww,” you place a hand in between your faces as he sits back on his seat smirking. You find yourself scolding your mind for liking that smirk and finding it actually hot. You blame your poor hormones for it as you sit back and stare at him.

“You know you can take a picture,” you gasp as he looks up directly at you, cheeks tinging with warmth as you cough and look away. “But I would need your picture more, considering how out of the world you look,” you head spins at a comical rate when the sentence leaves his mouth.

His mouth is also agape clearly surprised even he said that as he blinks looking at you. “What did you just say Han Dongmin?” you reply as he chuckles nervously scratching the back of his neck not knowing what to do next. Should he just casually deny it? He can do that, tell he has some brain disease or something.

He looks up at your wide eyes as he feels himself getting lost into them and as cliché as it sounds he feels lost in your eyes. He blinks again bringing himself to reality again as he sees you smiling.

You purse your lips and say, “How about I actually give you a signed photograph since you like to look at me so much?” your heart might have fallen out of the ribcage as you said it but Taesan giggles shyly looing down.

He looks up and replies, “How about I take you out and we take pictures together so I can look at you whenever I want?” You grin nodding lightly. That is the true Han Dongmin behaviour, never backing down from a challenge. But this time maybe you both are winning.

KIM DONGHYUN

trope: she fell first, he fell harder now playing: take a chance with me

To say losers and nerds were your type would be an understatement because you would die for Leehan’s smile. That quiet, shy smile as his eyes turn into crescent moons under his glasses. Once he opened his glasses in class and you almost fell in love after looking for a fraction of a second. You are not too proud of this but what he doesn’t know doesn’t hurt him.

Except he does know very well because you already asked him out once! He had replied that he just wanted to stay friends and he is not into relationships right now. Easy right? Should fix everything. Except it didn’t.

Your friends have caught him stare at you for one too many times and the underlying tension has remained even though you talked and he has tried to open up in his own nerdy ways expressing his love for fish. It only made it worse, and make you fall harder for him day by day.

So when Valentine’s Week came you had a tiny ray of hope in your heart that maybe, just maybe, he would do something. But as the days went by your hope started to decrease and it came down to a solid negative on Valentine’s Day itself. As usual Donghyun came and sat in the row behind you but you hardly pay attention as you started taking notes.

You make through the classes somehow but before you can leave, Leehan calls out your name, surprising you. He is so shy that he has never called your name out aloud before ever. You slowly look back making sure you weren’t hearing things as he says quietly, “Can we talk?”

You nod slowly indicating your friends to go ahead with your hands as you stand quietly in your place. You think he will probably just ask you about the upcoming project and you feel crazy to think he will ask you out even as an option. Leehan quietly stands up as he says, “Sorry for making you wait.

“Oh no it is totally fine,” you say it a little faster than you want to, mentally slapping yourself. Talk about desperation! Donghyun coughs lightly as he says, “You know you can sit right.”

The whole interaction is so awkward that you plop down on the chair as he smiles and says, “Uhm I am asking you out.” “What?” you reply visibly confused because what the hell was that? Leehan trips over his words as he says, “No, what I mean is, I want to ask you out, it is just that I regret it a hell lot when I said no to you because you are so perfect and nice and I think today is perfect but if you want to stay friends that is super fine with me-“

“Donghyun please breathe,” you reply widening your eyes as you hold his shoulder and look at him. “So?” he asks hopefully as you shrug a little giggling. You look down and smile feeling super shy as you nod and look up saying, “Yes, let’s do this” Leehan swears he has never been happier before and that was crazy because how did you become such a big part of his life when even a few months ago you weren’t.

Maybe that was a mystery he can’t solve but he is glad he got it.

KIM WOONHAK

trope: best friends to lovers now playing: what a man gotta do

Woonhak has been sending you gift hampers on Valentine’s since he has got the part-time job three years back. He has never actually asked you out but the heart shaped chocolates, teddy, ring and a packet of Hershey’s kisses on every Valentine’s don’t lie.

You both have always tagged this as ‘best-friend’ behaviour, too afraid to date each other wondering what will happen in case you break up. It felt pathetic to watch as a third person because you both were so in love with each other.

So when you receive the hamper again this year your friends couldn’t help but roll their eyes at you. The way you two act oblivious makes them want to kill themselves. Because everyone except you two everyone could see how much you were in love with each other. You giggle at the packets as your friends let out tired sighs.

Whenever Woonhak is around you smile, feel like a thousand fireworks going off when he smiles, do pathetic things like singing love songs in the shower and dance in front of the mirror. Your mood instantly lights up whenever his messages come and even if he calls you at two in the night you would pick up without a question.

So one of your friends took matters in her own hands as she texted him saying that it is very obvious and it is a mental torture to watch your push and pull. So Woonhak should just ask you out.

Woonhak ran towards your residence as soon as he saw the message and sees you sitting in the porch in front. He smiles a little as he runs lightly and messes up your hair. “Hey,” you slap his hand away, a bit surprised at seeing him as you ask, “What are you doing here?”

“A friend of yours said you like me so much that you make them suffer making them listen about me,” your eyes widen as soon as the sentence leaves your mouth and you stand up ready to go and kill whichever of your friends did it. Woonhak, always predicting your next actions, holds you by your shoulder and makes you sit down.

“If we like each other, why can’t we be together?” he asks and you sigh saying, “Woonhak you know why, I just don’t want to lose you.” “How are you so sure we will break up?” he asks and you look up at him. Suddenly you realise you are seeing the guy you have grown up with and have been in love with since you knew what love meant. Maybe your fears were just overpowering your thoughts. So maybe you can give this a chance.

“Are you sure about this?” you ask warily and he shrugs replying, “Let’s just go on a date and find out.”

ARA'S NOTES ㅤ,ㅤ such a top of the head draft but i really hope y'all will like this, i am trying to come back to writing slowly !

ㅤㅤ ᶻzㅤ( TAGLIST ) ㅤ𓂃ㅤ fill this or comment or ask to be added.

@slytherinshua @haneagerr @yeosayang @hursheys @peterm4rker

@aaa-sia @gong-fourz @emmylksblog @weird-bookworm @seomisaho

ㅤㅤ(ㅤㅤ© arafilez on tumblrㅤㅤ)

[tlbodine]

Stuck? Try junebugging.

I don't know who needs to hear this, but we're 5 days into nanowrimo so maybe this will be helpful.

Do you want the safety and surety of knowing what happens next in your story but can't stick to an outline? Does knowing in advance what will happen suck the joy out of discovery writing? Do you try to wing it through plots but get tangled in plot holes or have a story that runs out of steam because you can't figure out what went wrong? Are you at your most creative when you have a little bit of guidance? Do you tend to under-write? Do you get ideas in your head for random scenes and snippets that drop from the sky without context?

If any of these apply to you, junebugging a draft might be for you!

What Is Junebugging?

Since you're on Tumblr, you might already be familiar with the concept of junebugging as it relates to cleaning. If not -- I think the idea was first introduced to me by @jumpingjacktrash.

The basic idea is that you tackle cleaning by way of controlled chaos. You pick a specific area you want to focus on, like your kitchen sink, and then wander off to deal with other things as they occur to you, but always returning back to that area. You end up cleaning a little bit at a time in an order that may not make sense to an outsider but which keeps you from getting overwhelmed and discouraged.

How Does Junebugging Work in Writing?

OK, so that's great, but how does this work with writing? Well. In my case, the general idea is to jump between writing linearly, outlining, and writing out of order. It usually looks something like:

Start free-writing a scene, feeling my way through it and enjoying the discovery process.

Thinking, ok, now I have this scene, did anything need to happen to lead up to it? Do I need to go back and add some foreshadowing? Does this scene set anything up that needs to be paid off? And then jump forward/back to make those adjustments.

I'll usually have a bunch of disconnected ideas of ideas that have popped into my head, so I'll write those down in a list somewhere and then try to figure out what goes in between them and what order it goes in.

I'll write what I call "micro-scenes" which is where I'll just sketch out a few essential elements of what's going on without worrying too much about details, description, etc. -- just he did this, she said that, the setting was this, real bare-bones script. Then I can come back through and flesh out each of those microscenes into an actual scene later.

Got a story that has a complex structure? No problem. Write through each storyline one at a time and then chop them up and weave them together afterward. Write all the B plot scenes first then come back through to do A plot and C plot. Move the pieces around like legos. No one ever has to know.

This method works for me because I can't "decide" story elements in advance. I have never been able to just sit down and "figure out" what happens in a story beyond a couple steps ahead -- I have to discovery-write my way forward. But at the same time, that gets really daunting. So I zoom forward with micro-scenes, roughing out the beats in the most bare-bones way possible, then when I run out of clear vision for what happens next I backtrack, flesh out those scenes, build in connective tissue, etc. and by then I will probably find more inspiration to jump forward.

It's basically folding drafting, outlining, and revising all together into a single phase of writing, which is chaotic and goes against everything people teach you, but if it works? then it fuckin works.

Anyway, sorry for the jumbled-up post, I'm dashing this off quickly while I heat up a pizza and I'm about to dive back into my WIP -- but I hope this was a little helpful. If nothing else, take this as my blanket permission that it's 100% OK to jump around, write out of order, write messy, outline sometimes, pants sometimes, and do whatever else it takes just to get through the story. You've got this. Good luck.

[caterpills]

Traffic Light Tag Game!

Thank you so much to @cha-melodius and @leaves-of-laurelin for the tag for this! Similarly, I'm going to do this instead of the normal Sunday snippet sharing.

rules: talk about something creative you're working on of any kind.🚦

green: what is it about, what excited you about it, what sparked the idea?

orange: slow down and share something from it: a photo, a few words, some more background info etc.

red: what is the roadblock currently? what is one thing that is a necessary evil in making it? GREEN

So many things, but going to pick this one: affectionately called "the saudade fic" was an idea I had mid-writing and posting Comment/Question, and it's been percolating for a while. Basically, Alex attempts to save a boy from drowning when he's younger, but he never knows if the boy survived, so in order to cope with the loss, he creates an imaginary version of the boy, who he calls "H", to talk to. Except you know, H talks back. And maybe isn't as imaginary as Alex thought when they meet (unknowingly) again in college. There's grief! Feelings of loss! And so much yearning! And coming to terms with not being everything to everyone! So many water metaphors! And takes place over a series of time, and playing with some timeline things, for funsies. It has all the things I love reading about in books.

ORANGE

I have a whole pinterest board of things that inspire the feelings I want to feel while reading/writing it, so it's grown a lot (lots of oceanic pictures - I'm also afraid of the ocean, so this is really a terror writing experience for me too!!) I also have an extensive playlist for no reason other than I love music to write to. But I wanted to use this quote, in the literal sense, as well as the emotional one in the book:

“Thank you from the bottom of my heart for having saved me. I was drowning and you threw yourself into the water without hesitation, without a backward look.”

And a quick little collage of some photos on that pinterest board:

RED

URGHGHGH so many things. Real life is very nightmarish, so finding time where I don't want to sit and disassociate is hard. I also have some pretty complicated feelings about writing and fandom at present and feel that maybe the idea might be too big for me to tackle (right now.) It's weird because the urge is there, but the words are all mucked up, and I just wish it was easier than I thought (this goes for all my languishing WIPs, too.) tl;dr - I'm tired, and I feel like putting words to paper is a massive undertaking for me. But I figured blabbing about it here to people might get me out of that stupid little rut and get more than 2-3 sentences on a page a month.

ANYWAY, if you've gotten this far, here are some no-pressure/low-pressure tags to join in!! I hope you all have a wonderful week ❤️

@alasse9 @taste-thewaste @firenati0n @thesleepyskipper @suseagull5914

@myheartalivewrites @miss-minnelli @judasofsuburbia @thinkof-england @onthewaytosomewhere

@anincompletelist @14carrotghoul @porcelainmortal @wordsofhoneydew @blueeyedgrlwrites

@stellarmeadow @faketrex @sophie1973 @littlemisskittentoes @thedramasummer

@tailsbeth-writes @milowren29 @tinyarmedtrex @sparklepocalypse @clockwrkpendrxgon

@cricketnationrise @kj-bee @thighzp @theprinceandagcd @bitbybitwrites

@miharaikko @dani-dabbles @msmarvelouswinchester @priincebutt @incalamity @shesfromboston @zwiazdziarka

[thistleraven]

OnlyFins Sequel WIP Snippet

For TNVMana on ao3 who mentioned Kate's response to Peter saying they met on OF, enjoy the beginning of the sequel to OnlyFins:

~*~

The thing about New York City that Peter always forgets, is that—while it has a population of over eight million people—it is also the smallest town in the world.

"Peter? Is that you?"

Peter winces. If he's going to be perfectly honest, he would like not to be recognized at this exact moment. For one thing, he's barely awake and he knows he looks like hell—he knows his hair is a mess and he's wearing jeans from yesterday and one of Wade's shirts. He's also wearing Wade's crocs, which are bedazzled, neon yellow, and have manicured toe jibbitz sticking out of them. Peter hates them—thinks they're absolutely hideous—but they were the easiest things to slip on when he woke up and remembered that they're out of coffee.

And because Wade Wilson is a fancy bitch who doesn't own a regular coffee machine but a stupid gourmet Nespresso contraption, Peter's up at 8am looking like a gremlin in stupid gourmet grocery store about to spend way too much money on stupid gourmet coffee pods.

(Normally Peter doesn't mind the Nespresso machine, or the stupid little gourmet pods, because Wade is delighted by them. Wade likes all the fancy types of drinks it makes and the stupid little gourmet flavors and he likes to dance around, shaking his ass, to the sound the machine makes when it's churning out his stupid gourmet lattes and cappuccinos. And Peter, well. Peter likes it when Wade's happy.

It's just that Wade's been gone for two weeks on a mission and Peter was really, really looking forward to sleeping in with him. And sure, Peter could have said screw it and just ordered coffee in this morning, but…Peter's missed the coffee dance. He wants to see the dance.)

So here he is, standing in a Citarella with boxes of overpriced coffee pods in his hands with flavors like Toasted Sesame and Spanish Orange Biscuit and Ciocattino—because god forbid they just say "chocolate"—when New York does it's little small town thing.

He turns to face whoever-it-is, and almost drops the coffee.

"Kate?"

"Omigosh it is you!" Kate Bishop says, beaming. She smacks the arm of the guy next to her, who turns around and is—"Bruce! Meet Peter!"

The whole world seems to slow down as Bruce Banner turns around and sees Peter Parker's face for the very first time.

"Hi Peter," Bruce says politely, if a little bored. Which makes sense, because Bruce has no idea who the hell Peter Parker is, let alone that he's Spider-Man.

So this, obviously, a disaster, but Peter sends a quick prayer in thanks that it wasn't one of the more enhanced-sensed supers, or Tony with his JARVIS glasses. Peter would have been made in a hot second, and even in Peter's worst nightmares he's never been outed as Spider-Man while wearing bedazzled toe-crocs.

"Hi," Peter replies, a little breathless. Don't panic, Peter, don't panic. Something must get through though, because a flicker passes over Bruce's eyes.

Luckily, whatever it is gets derailed when Kate adds, weirdly smug for some reason, "Peter is Wade's boyfriend!"

Bruce's eyes go wide and he coughs. He blinks a few times and seems to actually look at Peter.

Fantastic. Peter watches in dim horror as he takes in Peter's face (sleep crusty, bed head), his shirt (baggy in all the places Wade's bulk dwarfs him) all the way down to his feet (Toe. Crocs.) He feels his face go hot and he waves weakly.

"It's, uh, nice to meet you, Bruce. Sorry—I normally look, um. Better than this."

"Sure," Bruce agrees easily. There's a thread of laughter in his voice, which Peter can't blame him for.

"Wade got back yesterday, right?" Kate asks, too-innocent. Peter narrows his eyes at her, because she knows good and well he got back last night, they were on the same mission.

"Yeah," Peter replies, suspicious.

Kate grins lasciviously at him. "Late night?"

Aw, jeez, come on, Kate. Way to call him out in front of what is supposed to be a complete stranger. Peter feels his face get hotter and just makes a strangled non-committed sound. It does nothing to dull the bright look of mischief in her eyes. She reminds him suddenly of MJ, and Peter makes a quick vow to never, ever introduce them.

"Anyway, Peter's a scientist, too, Bruce," Kate says, probably as a means to take pity on him by not saying that he does OnlyFans. Unfortunately, it's in fact now a new level of horrifying to Peter. His academic nightmares have never included toe crocs either.

"Something about protein rope? There was a while Wade couldn't stop talking about it but I couldn't be entirely sure it wasn't an innuendo."

Goddamnit, Wade. Peter's torn between annoyed frustration at his inconvenient blabbing and helpless affection that he cared enough to include Peter's research in his idle chatter.

"Not an innuendo, though, given Wade, I see where you might have gotten that. No, it's high tensile silk protein fiber."

Peter wants to shove the words back into his mouth the moment he says them. Kate won't think about it, but Banner's not an idiot. The less he knows about Peter and his research the better, lest he starts putting one and two together and gets webs.

It's too late, though. Bruce brightens. "Oh? That's interesting. Looking into plastic replacements?"

"Among other uses," Peter agrees. "A non-toxic, biodegradable, strong and flexible fiber could have a lot of uses. Bandages, rope, fire-suppressant—"

Bruce's head tilts curiously. Jeez, Peter, think of literally any other use that Banner doesn't associate with Spider-Man, come on—

"—and, uh, fabric, obviously," he adds quickly. "Wade wants me to make him dresses in it, but I don't have that kind of money."

Kate snorts. "Well, make him pay for it, he's got the cash."

"Fair enough," Peter laughs. "But even if I had the money for the material, it's more about the lab space."

"The lab space?" Bruce asks thoughtfully. "I take it your school won't provide it?"

"Ah, no, not unless I do my Ph.D there. Graduated last fall with my Masters."

Kate and Bruce congratulate him—which Peter politely accepts while wondering how fast he can extricate himself from this situation without looking even crazier than he does already.

Then Banner drops a bomb on him.

"Well, if it's lab space you need, you're welcome at the Tower. Stark's got tons of space, he won't miss one lab."

Peter is, for a brief second, stuck entirely in twain. Peter Parker, the scientist, is over the moon at the idea of getting his grubby mitts on Stark's tech for his webs. Spider-Man, the anonymous vigilante is screaming blue murder at the idea of stepping foot in the lobby of Stark's giant AI spy machine of a Tower unmasked, let alone having his webs processed there.

As such, instead of any intelligent answer he might have summoned, Peter makes a garbled sound like a dying goose.

Luckily, Bruce takes it as being overwhelmed instead of the debilitating existential alter-ego crisis that it actually is. He waves off Peter's goose malfunction.

"Seriously, Peter, it's no problem. I would say any friend of Wade's, but that's not true. You're special, according to Kate. Just come by the Tower and tell them your name. I'll make sure they set some space up for you."

"Um," Peter manages finally. How does he fix this. How does he get out of this?

"Oh!" Kate interrupts. "That reminds me! Can you guys watch Jeffrey for a couple of weeks? I was going to text Wade about it today, but might as well ask you now that you're here."

Despite the absolute riot of emotions happening in Peter, he can't help but brighten immediately.

"Of course, you never need to ask. We're always down to watch Jeff."

"Great!" Kate claps cheerfully. "Ooh, can you come in on Friday and bring him home with you? I'm trapped in a meeting right before I fly out, it'd be a huge help."

Well. That was a trap. A trap that Peter walked directly into. An adorable, land shark shaped trap, but a trap nonetheless.

Doomed, Peter says, "Uh. Sure?"

Kate beams at him. "Thanks, Peter!"

Peter feels a little like he's been stream-rolled. The similarity to MJ is once again uncanny and deeply, deeply cursed.

"You're welcome?" He offers weakly.

"Kate," Bruce says, "Sorry, Peter, but speaking of meetings—"

"Oh my god." Kate slaps her hand against her forehead. "I totally forgot. We're on a snack mission—"

"For a meeting that we are late for," Bruce adds dryly. He waves his phone which is lighting up with an unflattering picture of Stark. "Nice to meet you, Peter. I'm looking forward to seeing your fiber in action."

Oh, don't worry about that. He's already seen it in action, Peter thinks hysterically. Peter can't help but flash back to the last time he had deploy his webs to the keep the Hulk from smashing a too much. He had not been a happy camper.

"Right," Peter manages after what is probably an awkward beat, "Um. Nice to meet you, Bruce. Nice to see you again, Kate."

Lies, terrible lies. Peter went out to get coffee and his life became about twelve million times more complicated in the span of like ten minutes.

Kate and Bruce whisk away, leaving Peter holding his stupid gourmet coffee pods, wondering what the hell just happened.

A pimply teen walks by and snorts. "Nice kicks, dude."

"Fuck my life," Peter says seriously and then has to apologize when he gets a scandalized look from an elderly woman.

Great. Just great.

[bellyaz]

Snippet from my book that I forgot to post

When they met, Nicky was just a little chubby. She had wide hips, nice titties, and a little waist with a relatively flat stomach; it just had a little pooch at the bottom.

They found out their mutual interest a few months later after his homecoming game.

Their team won, everybody got drunk, and a few of his teammates and their friends ended up by him for an after party. Gradually, everybody left until they were there only two there. The two were close friends by then so it didn’t seem out of place for them to be alone together.

He ordered some pizza for them to share and they watched a movie until it came. During this time he really got to focus on every detail of her. Her tight little tube top, her shorts (which looked about a size too small) that the bottom of her ass cheeks were hanging out of, her slight double chin that was coming in, the little pucker her elbows had, and the way her thighs would spread and touch his ever so slightly when she sat next to him. But what stood out the most was how bloated she was getting off the drinks she had; and she had plenty.

She was a ditsy drunk. Not super sloppy, but just carefree enough to let out a couple of belches without caring about it. Snacking on the chips and cookies in his fridge and licking her fingers instead of wiping them off. Mostly oblivious to the fact that her tube top rolled up a bit a couple times throughout the night and she would go minutes without noticing before pulling it down and shooting a quick glance at Zay; probably feeling a bit of guilt in her moment of clarity. The way she swayed slightly while walking about and laughed at anything remotely funny that came out of his mouth was also enticing to him.

And the drinks had her bloated… extremely bloated. Her top was at least an inch above where it was at the game and her hoochie shorts rolled up so they fit like panties. If you didn’t know better, you’d think she was five months pregnant.

When the pizza came she practically swallowed half of a slice in one bite. Zay noticed and tried to look away, but the way she moaned while chewing made it hard for him. She slouched back on the couch where they were sitting and finished off her slice, making her bulge more prominent.

She giggled and asked him to pass her another.

He put two slices on a plate and gladly passed it to her, amazed at what he was seeing.

“Hmmm,” she dragged, “I have an idea.”

She stacked the slices and took yet another monstrous bite.

She let out a big belch mid-chew.

She covered her mouth, “Sorry.” She chuckled.

“Here try it.” She said reaching to feed him, which made her shirt fully ride up over her belly.

She immediately recoiled, struggling to hide her bulging belly. She pulled her top down three times before it stayed.

“Oh my god- I’m sorry.” She dragged, looking genuinely embarrassed.

His pants grew tighter.

“Nah, you good.” He said trying to play it cool.

He noticed her demeanor change and he felt bad for her. But, her embarrassment also aroused him.

He lifted his shirt up, “Look mine does that too.”

She let out a laugh followed by a snort.

“That’s different” she slurred. “You got these abs-“ She said rubbing his stomach.

She let a moan slip out.

He readjusted his pants.

“Belly is belly.” He shrugged off.

She rolled her eyes and chuckled, “That’s not a belly.”

She grabbed his hand and placed it on her gut, “This is a belly.”

She noticed he briefly furrowed his eyebrows and bit his bottom lip.

This is when she started picking up a vibe.

She’d always speculated that he was into chubby girls. His feed was filled with girls with a little extra stomach, the girls who he would talk to all had thicker bodies, and his friends would always joke that he “liked his girls BBW.”

Since hearing the rumor, Nicky would always fantasize about Zay fulfilling her fatty dreams.

Every once in a while, when she would stuff herself to her max, she’d picture him there rubbing her belly, feeding her, teasing her, encouraging her… the works.

She finished off her slices and put it to the test.

“Can you get me a cup? Ion feel like getting upppp.” She asked.

“Me neitherrrr.” He mocked before passing her the 2L of soda he ordered. “Just drink out the bottle, it’s only us here.”

She cracked the bottle open, closed her eyes, and started sucking down the carbonate beverage.

Each gulp made her stomach tighter. She was getting a little uncomfortable, but her throbbing pussy made it hard for her to stop. She was making a spectacle of herself, acting like a complete glutton in front of this D1 athlete and it turned her on like crazy.

Zay was getting hot too. He’d dream of scenarios like this all the time, but experiencing it in person was a whole new feeling. He was so caught up in the moment. From watching her fill her gut with fatty foods all night to seeing her chugging a quarter of the bottle in one sitting was mesmerizing.

She finally put the bottle down and started panting before letting out a few rounds of burps.

She unconsciously pushed her belly in to force some more out.

His jaw dropped.

“Oh, my b-URRRRP-ad.” She said with a slight tease.

She tried to sit up but plopped back down, she swung her weight again but still couldn’t manage to get up.

“Ugh, can you feed me?” She asked before letting out a huge belch, “I can’t get up, but I’m still really hungry.”

She knew she might’ve been on thin ice but she didn’t care. She was finally fulfilling one of her deepest sexual fantasies. She was soaked and her horny brain blocked out any shame receptors she had.

He got another slice and brought it to her mouth. She took a bite and he went to put it down until she protested. She took a few more bites until her mouth was packed.

He couldn’t take his eyes off of her belly. The button on her shorts looked like it was crying out for help from how strained it was and her top was almost at the same spot as it was when she had the little hiccup earlier.

It didn’t take long for her to finish her slice before he reached for another one.

She turned her head, “That’s yours, I had four.”

“I’m not that hungry,” he answered quickly.

She chucked, “You can save it for tomorrow.”

“Nah, you can have it.” He said putting it to her face. “For real.”

She shrugged and opened her mouth before he shoved half of the slice in it.

She let out a noise of discomfort and he stifled a moan.

She clenched her thighs while chewing before putting her hands on her stomach.

“Ughh my stomach hurts.” She moaned. “This is so embarrassing, but can you rub my belly?”

“I gotchu.” He said immediately sitting closer to her and wrapping his arm around her.

He put the pizza down and rubbed the part of her stomach that was exposed, which was most of it.

“Mmm, thank you. That feels so much better.” She slurred before burping.

“Of course.” He replied.

“Damn, yo shit tight.” He chuckled in amazement.

She put her head on his shoulder and belched again. She bit her lip after, enjoying the experience.

Both of their breathings picked up. The sexual tension was thick.

“I don’t usually eat this much,” she admitted, “It’s only when I’m drunk… or high. Especially when I’m high.”

He chuckled, “So I gotta get you high, huh?”

“Mhm.” She moaned.

“Mhmm.” He replied.

He unbuttoned her shorts and she gasped as the bottom of her stomach spilled out.

“What are you doing?” She asked feeling slightly embarrassed, but very aroused.

“Shh.” He said before using his other hand to hold her chin up.

He put his thumb in her bellybutton and grabbed her pooch. She moaned as he moved his thumb around in there.

“You want me to stop?” He whispered.

She hesitated for a moment while he continued, “No.”

“I know.” He said pulling her in for a kiss.

[plantoyoon]

Snippet of smut 3

Pairing: Yoongi x reader

Genre: fluff, smut

A random restless morning with Yoongi taking care of you

It was morning. You were feeling restless in bed, anxious about all the things you had to solve this week. You kept turning—on your back, on your belly, with one leg up, grabbing the blanket to wrap around yourself, kicking the pillow, and so on. Yoongi was sleeping next to you, but you were too agitated to worry about waking him up.

You heard a low "mmm," like a deeper purr of dissatisfaction, and stopped your fidgeting with the blanket. You chose the position that is usually the most comfortable—on your belly, with one hand under the pillow and the other extended—and tried to give sleep another shot.

It didn’t take long until you felt long fingers sneaking carefully onto your waist. With ticklish movements, his hand climbed up your back, making small strokes on the way. He reached your shoulder, then followed the length of your extended hand to intertwine his fingers with yours. You felt most of his body weight on yours now, and small kisses on your shoulder.

"Yoongi..." you mumbled, to which he just purred again, nudging your jawline with his nose to make space for more kisses on your neck.

You would think this was just his morning affection manifesting and found it adorable despite your annoying attitude just a few minutes ago. Instantly, you realised it was something else as he licked a stripe along your neck, breathing hot air over it—knowing this was one of your weaknesses.

Letting out a breathy moan, your body moved, your ass pushing into him more, and you finally felt him properly. You felt his smile widening on your neck at the realisation. He focused his attention on your neck once again, kissing and leaving wet marks, biting in small spots, and whispering sweet nothings there.

He felt you getting restless, trying to feel more of him. When you let out the most whiny moan, he laughed a little and tightened his grip on your hand to pull you and move your body so you were facing him.

"Morning," he whispered on your lips and proceeded to kiss them gently, but with increasing intensity as your hands started to travel down his pants to feel his... One of his hands followed yours, but just to spread your legs more so he could position himself better, centring on your core. Each of you took care of the other with gentle touches and massages.

"That's a good way to start your morning." You giggled when his hand ran on the inside of your thigh, tickling you.

"You've been so restless this morning. I had an idea of how to make it better."

Yoongi's fingers grew impatient on your core as you started hearing all the lewd noises your wetness made.

Suddenly, his fingers withdrew, and he placed his hands on each side of you on the bed. His lips still on yours, he whispered, "Seeing you have so much energy this morning, why don't you sit on my face?"

Your breath stopped and your pussy clenched at the sound of his words. He had never suggested this, not even during your casual talks. But this intrigued you. You were usually more assertive in bed, but with Yoongi, everything felt so different, and he could even order you around and you'd be compliant in granting his wishes or asks.

He saw you were a little baffled by this request and insisted between kisses in a whispered voice, "Come on, my restless girl, don't you want me to make you feel good?"

You stuttered a "yeah," as both of you moved to change positions and get rid of some clothes. Your ass on his chest and his hands on your thighs, pulling you closer. He gave a short smack on your ass, hurrying you to get where he wanted you.

Still shy, you moved on your knees to position yourself above his face. You covered your face, and he whispered in a gentle tone, "Look at you being so beautiful. I love this view."

He tried his best to make you comfortable, caressing your thighs as he looked at you with his dark eyes.

"You know, you just have to use me as your sitting place. Believe me, I know it'll be your favourite place."

"It already is, Yoongi!" you stated as you moved his bangs from his forehead.

Now with your knees above his shoulders, Yoongi wiggled his body lower to properly face your pussy.

"Perfect! Now, sit."

You found this side of Yoongi so hot that you were a mess. Dizzy with lust, you lowered your body and felt him raise his head to reach and taste you. First, you felt his nose nudging at your hole, then his tongue, licking sloppily around it, and it didn't take long before he pushed it inside you. He was eager, licking between your folds, pushing his tongue inside your hole and moving to suck your clit. Your legs were twitching heavily, making you pull up for a second.

"Sit!" he ordered greedily, and you finally complied, earning a growl in your cunt that sent vibrations through your whole body.

"Fuck!" you hissed as you felt him becoming even more aggressive with his tongue. As you grabbed his hair to get some connection to this world, he moaned loudly, looking up with devilish eyes.

That look was all you needed to understand how much he wanted you. Finally relaxing completely, your hips started moving on their own on his face. You felt his mouth widen into a smile as he grabbed your hips to guide your movements. Yoongi's moans were louder, resembling growls, and you felt so fucked up seeing him as lost as you in that moment.

You felt the wave building up inside you, your moans more hectic and small spasms in your legs. Yoongi continued his sucking and licking for a few minutes, your moans growing louder. He decided to play a bit by biting gently on your clit.

"Fuck, Yoongi!" you almost yelled. His grip on your thighs grew tighter, pressing his fingers into your skin to bring you as close as possible to his mouth, fucking his tongue relentlessly into your hole. Once again, you found your hand in his hair, moaning his name over and over.

You were a mess at this point, only able to hold on with one hand in his hair while the other started to massage one of your nipples. Yoongi's eyes sparkled with lust at your movement, almost rolling his eyes back in pleasure. Slowly but surely, you reached your high, coming loudly on his face. "Fuck this, Yoongi! Fuuuuuck!" And as sweet as he was, he licked at you through your spasms and the clenching of your thighs around his face until you were finally done.

As you crashed next to him, he said proudly, "So, is this the best place to sit or not?"

You laughed and placed your hand on one of his cheeks and gave the other a kiss, feeling all your wetness still on, too wrecked to get a word in.

[tales-of-wocdes]

Mc who probably going to grow up to be a scammer (a good one) and evade doing taxes and also probably going to be banned in nearly very single kingdom (basically stanely from gravity falls)

I have to admit, I have not seen Gravity Falls. So I will think of something to write.

Some context snippets. Here, here, here and here . The first one is about "Grandpa", the next two about "the hoard" and the last one about the kitchens.

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

You want to make more shinies. The cookie based extortion ring has unfortunately run it's course and you are out of the small shinies that were so nice for your hoard. You find yourself missing them. Getting them the first time was easy but now people are paying attention to you.

You had asked the adults you know and trust how to make more shinies. Havard said you could do some chores, and be paid for it. That sounded boring.

Lexia said to use your good looks. Apparently you are adorable and can get anything if I master the "pitiful face" and "puppy dog eyes". Like that one time in the kitchens, you got fed good! That seemed to be closer to what you wanted, but that strategy resulted in more treats and food, not shinies. Treats are good, but not what you are currently after.

You had considered asking Sandor, Alessa and Ethel. In that order, but you were reluctant. However, it was that time of the month when you had a visitor. A visitor who had to be more adult that even the adultest adult you normally interacted with, namely Havard.

Surely something, the Ancient Grandpa, would know of a good way to get more shinies.

You were right! Grandpa had all sorts of ideas. From dungeon diving, to bandit hunting, it sounded like getting shinies was easy! Grandpa had so many good ideas, thought you did not understand all of them. How would "walking through a busy market with sticky fingers" make more shinies. Grandpa is so odd sometimes.

Unfortunately, Havard disagreed. You have never seen him raise his voice at Grandpa before. You wonder what "Completely unrealistic and irresponsible." actually means.

In the end, you have decided on a combination of Lexia's idea and Grandpa's. Grandpa said you just have to sell the stuff you get from the bandits or dungeons.... and that got you thinking. You had no stuff to sell... but Lexia did say you are adorable, and that can be apparently sold.

You had to get Lexia to help you. It was not fun, she laughed at your idea to make more shinies. It was a sign. You are not sure what it says, the squiggles are still beyond you but you asked for "Smiles for money from an adorable orphan." You don't know why the orphan part is important but Grandpa said, it would get you more shinies than just "child". The sign is also awfully full of squiggles ... but maybe writing takes lots of space.

Now, you are in the city, and marching down the street, sign held high. Lexia is behind you, amused and curious.

It does not take long for people to take notice.... and it works! People, especially the elders, you think they are old, they are more wrinkly than Lexia for example, come over and coo at you.

You give them your best smile! The one you practice in front of the mirror. Your smiles always look a bit... off to you, but Lexia says you are adorable so it should work, right?

It does... something. The people freeze for a moment, and their own smiles go a bit odd. Not as natural, your internal sense tells you. You have no time to figure it out, the shinies start coming in!

Little square things, and even a few round bronze things. All good for your hoard! So you keep smiling as widely as you can.

The people often go and whisper something to Lexia. Mostly the younger people... but you can't hear them. You have more people to smile at, and smile you do.

You don't even question how easy it all is.

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

Lexia is happy MC can't read, and does not question this. Discreetly she slips coins to everyone who gave MC money.

The sign MC holds says, "Smiles for money from an adorable orphan." as requested.... but under that it says. "Make the kid's day, they can't read! Pretend the smile is fine, and give them some small coins. Get reimbursed from the woman in Silver behind them, and make no mention of it to the kid."

MC could use some practice with that creepy smile.

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

So... this went in an odd direction.. but once again, a snippet is a snippet. No revisions :D Still, not sure who is scamming who here.

It got quite long.... Thanks for 1000+ followers on this blog!

[tyriq-edits]

Wish I could be

Part of your world

Breakbee the little Mermaid AU

Up where they walk, up where they run. Up where they stay all day in the sun. Wandering free. Wish i could be part of your world.

Does this AU solely exist because I love mute-Bee angst? Yes

Also before anyone asks: Yes Optimus is indeed Triton because I am a sucker for “tired autistic dad Optimus”.

Megatron will most likely take the role of Ursula.

But there will also be a few changes. Basically in this AU Bee (obviously the little mermaid/Ariel) and the prince (Breakdown) have long long known each other and often met up in secret by the beach or by Breakdown taking a small rowboat out to sea.

But one day Dadimus Prime finds out about Bumblebee’s little excursions and essentially puts him under house arrest and forbids him from ever swimming to the surface again. But does Bee listen? NAH!

He decides to head straight to Megatron, the banished sea witch. All he asked the witch for, was a way to be able to visit Breakdown again. The young merman expecting an invisibility cloak or heck some sleeping potion for his father in order to be able to sneak out again. But instead Megatron, smelling an ideal opportunity to get under Optimus Prime’s skin by making a deal with one of his sons, convinces Bumblebee, through some clever wordplay and fear-mongering, to ditch the ocean and stay on land permanently with his sweetheart for eternity… as a fellow bipedal mech. However the spell came not for free.

For the spell to work Bumblebee had to give up his voice but also Breakdown’s memories of his face. Meaning Breakdown would bd able to remember his time spent with Bumblebee by the sea. But it would all feel distant to him. He can remember the place, even snippets of their conversations but the face and name are a blurr. And as if that wasn’t enough trouble already: He had three days to make Breakdown fall in love with him again or the spell would break and Bumblebee would be forced to slave off his payment for Megatron.

So Bidep-Bee washes up on the beach where Breakdown had been searching for days for the mysterious yellow sea-mech from his memories and things play out more or less how they did in the Disney movie from here.

However my main difference at this point would probably be Megatron putting Bee’s voice box into Knockout to trick him into believing that Knockout is his beloved Sea-mech from his memories. Obviously because of that Knockout won’t have to turn into a biped too.

I am uncertain yet how Bumblebee would make Breakdown realise he’s being tricked and how the two of them would defeat Megatron, but the genuine plan would include them receiving the happy ever after in the end.

CW: Mentions of Suicide

This is obviously a version way closer to the disney movie than the OG fairytale by Hans Christian Anderson. You can obv leave all the disney stuff out and just go straight for the angst with Breakdown truly not remembering who Bumblebee is and falling in love genuinely with another one (still Knockout but this time he’s a fellow bipedal mech like Breakdown with 0 relations to Megatron) and Bumblebee committing suicide, turning into Seafoam.

As always feel free to take this basic idea of mine and make your own version of this AU if you so desire.

[yallthemwitches]

I just wanted to say how much I love how you keep in mind the 70s for the marauders era. I was a bit surprised that most in the fandom tend to automatically lean more towards the disco bell bottom vibe in their depictions but I always thought they would be more on the British Punk movement in the mid 1970s that was pushed by the youth culture due to social unrest and a desire for rebellion against established norms. So if in muggle clothes my mind tends to lean towards influences from Vivienne Westwood and more tighter clothes like the band Blondie (Debbie Harry is my fashion icon!) but I love all the fashion from that era! (I feel like Sirius is the one does get depicted with these influences the most consistently). And even the snippet of James and Sirius fleeing from the police, I always thought them wearing those T-shirts with the golden phoenixes could have been actual Queen band T-shirts they bought while in the muggle world that they thought both looked cool and could represent The Order at the same time lol

Hi! Yes! I love keeping my jily and marauders canonically in the 1970s because a. its fun and b. I genuinely find the time period fascinating and perfectly fitting for their arcs within canon (lots of civil unrest, societal change etc. etc.)

I agree that the general idea of Lily really does skew towards ABBA, Fleetwood Mac lover (or if we are going modern TSwift girl)....but if you are one of those people reading this I'm really sorry to disappoint because that's not my girl....

I have a very strong head canon that Lily had a very eclectic taste in music and personal style due to many bored summers back in Cokeworth. She would have bopped along to ABBA and loved a good Tusk track from Fleetwood Mac, but I think her music tastes would have probably skewed more pre new wave/punk/glam for a few reasons:

Her best friend was Severus Snape: During our teens we usually glob on to whatever our friends like--it's kind of natural because navigating the world on our own sucks. Honestly, I think Snape would have had very little tolerance for music much less muggle music, but if you put a wand to his head he'd much rather play a record by, say, The Damned or Leonard Cohen than the glitzy disco pop that is ABBA. Lily brought various styles of music into his life and he was the litmus test (better or worse). Naturally she would gravitate to listening to music he would stomach because that would mean making him happy. (See below about her relationship with music+James)

2. Her life...kinda sucked: If you haven't caught on by now, I like my Lily a little bit tragic. If we just focus of what we know from canon we can compile this info about her: She came from a poor factory town, parents are somehow out of the picture by the time of her death, sister hates her guts (since childhood), best friend morally betrays her, and she's ostracized and discriminated against in the WW because of her blood status. Now, I'm not saying people with shit lives can't be listening to the top pop 100 charts, but in a great generalization sad/angry people listen to sad/angry music.

3. She was part of a fascist resistance group (or grew up with the mindset to join one): Again another generalization but a radical political leaning like this would probably poise her closer to a punk/grassroots movement than anything else.

Now, on the other side of that coin ( I know you didn't ask but I'm giving you the hc anyways) I think James would be a top 100 pop girlie (and also a 60s stan haha)....and I think Lily found that really refreshing. One of the things I like about Jily is that James was the breath of air Lily had always desperately needed. He was a confident, loyal, positive, action oriented person who stuck up for the people he loved to a fault. He never knew half of the suffering Lily grew up with (nor Sirius or Remus for that matter) and I think that's why all three of those characters gravitated towards him: he was the symbol that hope and happiness were possible.

For this reason, I always hc that James would like disco and love song pop hits and those high glam artists like Sweet or David Bowie. I also think he would be very skewed towards 60s sounding music because the WW (in my hc) is a decade behind the MW as far as culture and influence so he'd be still bopping around to The Beatles, and Donovan and The Kinks like that shit wasn't old news---and again I think Lily would love him for it because it was adorable.

Most importantly James' golden rule was that If Lily loved it, he did too (or at least respected it). Unlike Snape who would groan through some album she brought over, James would enthusiastically listen and (love it or hate it) be eager to understand why she liked an artist. He wasn't dismissive when he didn't like something and challenged her to think about her tastes in a positive manner.

I also agree with you about muggle clothes, but I think Lily would still be eclectic to match her music tastes. I think summers she would be a t-shirt/shorts or halter top/jeans person. She was feminine but it was natural--white eyelet shirts, a pinafore or two for nicer occasions. I think her style would probably fall somewhere into a Stevie Nicks meets Patti Smith situation, but she aspired to wear more edgier oriented clothing ( and did but only for shows/going out).

For James and Sirius: I always find it a little funny that James and Sirius are styled so differently in fics/art because those two did everything together and-again- teenagers tend to follow each other. Granted, these two are pretty big personalities so there would be a small difference, but I think generally both would be a t-shirt jeans/trousers guy with some sort of jacket (leather for Sirius/ Suede for James). James would skew a bit more 'straight' and Sirius more punk but I don't think either would be as overt as people like to depict (they weren't in the MW that often so there was no need to really flesh out this style beyond easy basics).

Sorry for the rant but I LOVE a good meta conversation about fashion and music. If you are at all interested I made a Lily playlist of what I think she would have listened to. I'll link it below!!

[dreamsofbroflovski]

hiii again, I was the person who wrote about the dbd hc post and to write more hcs about kyle, when i wrote that i wasnt really thinking about something in specific, just general hcs about kyle hahaha, howeverr If you don't Mind there Are some ideas i've never seen and i think would be pretty cool (If you don't mind, of course):

- general hcs about His gaming taste (which games he likes,plays,his fav, etc) kyle plays (also would love to ser main 4, but since hes my pookie i focused on him XD)

- how he would be dating a brazilian reader

- main 4 + butters dating (or being friends) with a reader who has autism

you don't need to write all of them (or even write at all), just would love to see more of kyle 🙏🙏

ha. hahaha. ha.

anon, you are ve ry familiar with my game, aren't you?

because i swear this was me when i read idea #2:

for the uninitiated (which anon probably isn't), i AM brazilian, so this is right up my alley lol

unfortunately, i don't think i'm doing idea #3. i'm not autistic, i don't have a lot of knowledge on the subject, and to depict that properly it would require from me a type of research that i'm just incapable of doing at the moment

#1 might happen at some point though. we have a few snippets of the boys' gaming tastes in canon already, but i can always tell canon to fuck itself and just say my own thoughts on the subject

with that out of the way.

KYLE BROFLOVSKI HEADCANONS - DATING A BRAZILIAN READER

Admittedly, he was very intrigued when you first moved to South Park. Why the hell would you come from a tropical country all the way on the opposite hemisphere to a small town in the middle of nowhere in the states? And that’s like, one of the first things he ever asks you - because obviously he volunteers to be the one to hang out with you and show you around. As time passes and you two get together, he’s just secretly grateful that whatever it is brought you to his arms.

Confusion is this guy’s middle name for a while when he starts getting closer to you. Brazil is so very different from the US, but it’s also very different from other latin american countries - even though there are several similarities, some aspects of the culture are very unique, so there’s a lot of him questioning you about it going on.  

Obviously starts taking Portuguese lessons immediately, even if you’re fully fluent in English. It’s an investment, really - God forbid you two break up, he’d at least have the knowledge of a new language.

Once he gets a better grasp of it, starts saying love declarations to you in Portuguese in front of everyone else since they don’t understand the language, making you giggle and blush. Has the cutest little accent, too. The guys keep on asking what the fuck he was talking to you about, he just tells them to piss off.

He gives you gifts on Brazilian Valentine’s Day (which, to unaware readers, is not February 14th! It’s actually June 12th) as well as on American Valentine’s Day. He’s just always looking to spoil his lady, honestly, and an extra excuse for that is very much welcome.

Brazilians are big on family and community. So if you’re close to yours, he’s gonna be so happy and basically bend over backwards trying to get along in order to feel properly included. (Biological or found family! He’s doing that regardless.)

Somewhat disinterested in Brazilian music, to be honest. He’d hate Brazilian Funk and Samba with a passion. More classical MPB is fine, he likes it from an intellectual point of view.

Our literature, on the other hand? He likes it beyond belief. If you’re a reader, you two can have a little book club of your own because he keeps on finding and reading new books that he wants to yap about.

Avoid explaining Brazilian politics to this dude. He’s already at high risk of heart disease due to stress, we are not trying to cut his lifespan in half. (He ends up doing research on his own, and then it’s a whole mess because he keeps on asking rhetorical questions to show just how stupid some parts of it are)

Not fond of the tropical weather, I don't think he fucks with the beach at all for several reasons. If you’re from a coastal city, he’ll visit with you for sure, but he just prefers to do other stuff while he’s there.

Turns FERAL if he sees you in a Brazilian bikini. Crazy possessive if it's around other people, can't get his hands off you if it's in private. (I mean, that goes for any bikini, really. But there's something about the extra skin...)

Carnaval kinda triggers his Jersey side a little bit, lol. He will go with you to a ‘bloquinho’, complain for a while like he’s not enjoying himself, and then all of a sudden Kyley-B is there, wearing a tinsel wig and flip-flops and trying to fight a street vendor because the beer is too expensive.

The amount of proximity and public displays of affection in Brazilian culture freaks him out a little bit at first. He’d get jealous if you greet other men with a kiss on the cheek or a hug, stuff like that. That’s just not how he was raised - but he’ll get around to it eventually, especially if you reward him with a few kisses of his own in front of everyone

All in all, he’s actually adorable about it. He likes knowing stuff, so new cultures interest him greatly - and if he can learn everything there is to know about you, then that’s just the best way.

Dividers by @cafekitsune

[its-all-papaya]

Can I hear more about your clingy landoscar idea pls 🧡

Yes!! Bonus snippet!! RICHES!! (I couldn’t decide which to write so I picked both). this is like... not necessarily the same tone as the first thing at all... but... they fit on the same continuum if you imagine some progression in the middle, idk. like i said. the word doc is calling to me.

read the first part

After Monaco, after Oscar’s moved to Monaco, Lando finally convinces him to come out for a night. Oscar has drinks, of course, but he stays on the conservative side of sloppy. Mostly because the way Lando’s handling him is not something he wants to risk forgetting even a second of. 

Oscar knew Lando was tactile, but it’s ratcheted up a notch when he’s drunk. It’s much different, much more overwhelming, when Lando is everywhere, demanding every one of Oscar’s senses, instead of confined to only a voice and only sometimes a face on a phone screen. He starts out with a hand on Oscar’s back to keep him near in the flow of the crowd, but that evolves into an arm around Oscar’s waist after the first round of shots. Soon it’s fingers around Oscar’s hips while Lando waits behind him at the bar, then a leg tossed over Oscar’s when they’re squished into a booth with Charles and Max. After midnight, it’s Lando’s head tipped back on Oscar’s shoulder, throat exposed obscenely so Oscar’s got no choice but to watch his adam’s apple bob as he drains the last of whatever Charles had ordered for the table. Not long after, it’s Lando in Oscar’s lap (“just making room, not a problem, right, Osc?”) and Lando’s arm hooked around his neck, curls tickling Oscar’s chin, fingers brushing back and forth where his sleeve meets his bicep. Oscar can’t tell if Lando’s doing it on purpose, or just sensory seeking in his half-dazed, half-coherent drunk state. He can’t tell if any of it’s on purpose, truthfully, even when Lando’s mouth is against his ear, asking “d’you ever dance? would you wanna? with me?” and his teeth catch a little on the lobe on the last few words.

Oscar doesn’t dance, but what he does do is almost anything Lando asks him to, so it’s in the middle of a crush of sweaty bodies where he first notices something a little different in the direction of Lando’s touch. He’d been dragged by the wrist to the center of the mess, and he’s still planning to stay mostly sober, but he wishes he’d saved one of his drinks for now to help dull the itch of discomfort in his brain and his limbs. Lando’s plastered to his front, his own fresh drink in one hand, the back of Oscar’s shirt scrunched up in the other. Oscar’s seen Lando on the dance floor before, has seen Lando on the dance floor with men before (if some of it was through shitty watermarked fan videos on twitter, that was for him alone to feel any kind of way about), so he can tell the tension in Lando’s back isn’t an all-the-time thing. His grip on Oscar is just north of casual, even when he releases the shirt and goes back to Oscar’s hip, pinky dipping under the hem to rest warm against Oscar’s side.

“Dancing,” he says, like Oscar might have forgotten why they’re here.

Oscar hedges. “Think I’m too sober for that, mate.”

Lando grimaces briefly, but then he’s lifting his own drink up between their chests and backing up just enough to leave space for it there, an offering. When Oscar moves to take it, though, Lando shakes his head and draws him back in, knocking the rim of the glass against Oscar’s chin. He’s smirking like it’s a joke, but Oscar’s missing the punchline as Lando nudges the glass closer again, straw bumping up under Oscar’s cheekbone.

“What,” Oscar says.

“Drink,” Lando says. Like it’s obvious. His pinky dips lower, tracing the top of Oscar’s jeans.

Every part of Oscar feels too warm, sticky with sweat. There’s a reason he doesn’t do clubs. But there’s a reason he’d said yes tonight, and it comes back to him when Lando abandons pretenses and sneaks his whole hand under Oscar’s shirt. It’s too hot, Oscar’s blinking sweat out of his eyes every other time his eyes close.

The ice clinks impossibly loudly against the sides of the glass when Oscar’s fingers close around Lando’s wrist. Condensation is dripping steadily, sliding down the meat of Lando’s hand and pooling where Oscar’s fingers meet his skin. Their eyes stay locked as Oscar guides Lando’s hand back up. They stay locked even as his lips close around the straw and Lando’s part around nothing. His cheeks hollow as he drinks. Lando’s pupils are blown wide, and Oscar spares a second to consider whether Lando’s been out of his sight long enough to have taken anything without him noticing.

“Thanks,” he says when he’s had his fill. The glass is mostly empty and the liquor burns pleasantly all the way down, adding to the fire already smoldering in his stomach.

“Whatever helps.” Lando’s tone is different than Oscar’s ever heard it, but he doesn’t have time to figure that out, because then Lando’s turning around, pressing his back to Oscar’s front, and reaching back to catch Oscar’s hand in his free one - the one that had been on the bare skin of his side a second ago. Everything is still hot and close and overwhelming, but the space under his ribs feels cool with the memory of Lando’s palm.

It’s a blur for awhile. Half of Lando’s drink isn’t really enough to move the needle for Oscar, but he feels drunk instead on the feel of Lando’s abdomen under his palm, the subtle shift of muscle as Lando moves. His head spins with the press of Lando’s hips back into his own, thoughts nebulous in the blue-green light. He catches the eye of a girl across the floor at one point, and her smile sharpens when she sees him looking. He’s not even, really; it’s neither here nor there to him when she starts moving across the floor. Lando’s been like an extension of Oscar’s own body for a bit already, tuned half out for his own sanity, but everything barrels back into focus when Lando’s head tips back again. Oscar recalls his adam’s apple, Charles’ neon shots. A lifetime ago.

“Having fun?” Lando mumbles. His mouth brushes Oscar’s skin. Oscar’s half-convinced it’s an accident, but when he tips his head down to read the words off Lando’s lips, they press more firmly to his jaw. They’re wet and cooler than the ambient air, like he’s just drained the ice from the bottom of his glass. Oscar’s eyes flick back up to clock the woman’s progress, but she’s paused steps away. Oscar feels caught out and guilty even though he hasn’t done anything at all.

“Always, with you,” is what he says. It must be the correct answer, because Lando’s head turns in even further and his lips brush Oscar’s neck in little closed-mouth passes.

When Lando speaks again, Oscar can feel the words spelled out against his skin, drawing goosebumps: “Wanna get out of here?”

Oscar does. Has since the minute he walked in, really. His arm around Lando tightens, drawing him in closer for a final moment, bidding farewell for now to this version of them on the dance floor.

Lando turns back around in his arms, then, not a centimeter further away than he’d started.

“Walk me home?” he asks into Oscar’s cheek.

And Oscar does.

[ollyissleepy]

𝟎𝟓 '𝐩𝐮𝐭 𝐚 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐩𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐭'

summary: you meet up with Rafayel and show him parts of your book, while he makes a promise. a/n: this took a while, anyway last chapter for act 1 should come out later tomorrow cw: mentions of being executed and puking, reblogs, comments and like are greatly appreciated!

← prev. | m.list | next →

You look around the cafe, trying to distract yourself from your laptop's screen since looking at it makes your anxiety worse. You took your time last night, trying to decide what is worthy of showing to Rafayel. And, after a long debate and some encouragement from Caleb, you decided to just show him everything you currently have and lie about it being nothing more than snippets, parts of the stuff you already managed to finish. You hope that the stuff you have will be enough to satisfy him and he won't ask for more. Not yet at least.

The couple next to you bursts out laughing, one of them telling a joke while the game Kitty Cards is scattered on the table. You watch them for a bit, envy growing in a pit of your stomach, wishing you were in this cafe for such a trivial reason. Instead, you sit there, feeling like you're waiting for your execution. When you move your sight away from the couple, not wanting to look like some sort of creep, you notice a man sitting in front of you. You recognise him as Rafayel, thanks to the photos of him you saw on social media. He watches the same couple you did just a moment ago.

"I still don't get the appeal of this game," Rafayel speaks up, finally turning to face you. "It's just a card game."

"The little drawings of cats are cute, I guess." You shrug your shoulders. "It's nice to meet you, Rafayel." You extend your hand, an awkward smile plastered on your face.

"It's nice to meet you too!" Rafayel replied, shaking your hand. You can't help but notice that the smile on his face seems far less awkward than yours.

You can't think of any conversation starters, so you move your laptop towards Rafayel, showing him stuff you prepared. He stares at the screen for a bit before looking back at you, as if he's waiting for your permission.

"It's some snippets of the book. I prepared them for you to check them out," you explain, encouraging Rafayel to start reading. "I'm going to grab something to drink. Do you want anything?" You ask, standing up.

Rafayel lets you know what he wants, smiling. He focuses on the screen of your laptop; you assume he's reading part of a chapter you prepared. You silently go up to the counter, standing behind one of the customers. You looked up at the menu, trying to figure out what to get for yourself. You didn't plan on grabbing another drink, but the idea of sitting across from Rafayel, who's reading something that brought you so much stress and anxiety, makes you want to puke. So, instead of stressing yourself over the smallest changes in Rafayel's face, you decided to buy a drink. You decided on a drink just in time for it to be your turn. You tell the barista your order, pay, and move to the side to wait for it to be complete. You looked around the cafe to keep yourself busy when your eyes stopped at Rafayel. You watch him for a bit; you can't really read his expression due to his face being covered by the screen. You're about to move your eyes somewhere else when he suddenly looks up, his eyes locking onto you. You get nervous, unsure what your reaction should be. Then, Rafayel smiles, giving you a thumbs up to show his appreciation. You watch him return to reading, his face once again unreadable.

The barista finishes your order and calls out your name. You take it and return to the table. It's one of the very few times you wished it would take longer to complete the order so you could avoid speaking to Rafayel for longer. You slowly make your way back to the table, careful not to spill both of the drinks. You place down Rafayel's drink next to him and, without a word, you sit down across from him.

"It's pretty good. I really like the story you came up with." Rafayel speaks up, moving your laptop to the side so the two of you can see each other. "I just wish you showed more of your writing. Don't get me wrong, I loved the parts and the board of the general vibe of the book! It's just... I feel like your writing would show it so much better than random photos you found on social media." He explains, his hand pointing at your laptop. "If I could see a bit more, maybe we could start talking about cover art and stuff."

You look down at the cup you've been holding, ashamed. You have to tell him the truth; there's no point in lying.

"That's all I've got," you mumbled, still avoiding Rafayel's eyes. You're ashamed to even admit that to him.

"I'm sorry, what?" Rafayel asks you, his head tilted to the side. He studies your face carefully, saddened that he can't see your eyes so they can help him with reading you.

"That's all I've got," you repeat, this time much louder. The cat's out of the bag now. You almost can't believe that you managed to admit to that out loud.

"Oh…" Rafayel looks taken aback by your sudden confession. "Having a hard time writing?" He asks, taking a sip of his drink.

"Yeah..." you admit, finally having the guts to look Rafayel in the eyes.

"That's fine. All artists go through that." Rafayel seems understanding of your predicament. "I can help if you want. I know a thing or two about coming out of it." He offers as he smiles at you.

"I don't know." You once again look away, focusing fully on your drink. "I never had anyone help me with that." You take the last sip of your drink before settling it down on the table.

"That's fine; you don't have to tell me now." Rafayel finishes his drink as well. "Why don't we finish the meeting here? You go home and think about it, ask your friends, and then text me about your decision." He suggests, getting ready to leave.

You promise Rafayel to give his offer some thinking. The two of you exchange your goodbyes, and you watch Rafayel leave the cafe. After making sure he left, you start grabbing your own things, leaving.

@sashisuslover @withering-dream @lalaluch

taglist is open!

[janitorhutcherson]

hey bitches!! it’s e, i’m backkkk. i had a fic idea, something i think i’ll use for a lot of new content if y’all react well to it. to give y’all a run down before we get into it, this is a famous!mike schmidt au.

basically mike is josh hutcherson. reader (you) are his live in PR assistant. not sure the perfect word for it, but basically you manage his social media presence, the way he dresses, how he is in public, attend all events with him to monitor him, etc…… kinda like a babysitter….. also, could technically be a part of olderbf!mike because reader is 22, mike is 31. anywaysss..! it’s a new idea, i just wanted to set the scene. the way i’m writing this is different from usual. plz let me know what you think! if y’all like i’ll write more in this universe🤭

summary: ur actor mike schmidt’s assistant!!

warnings: angsty, just an introduction to an idea.

————————

mike schmidt was a mess, and everybody knew it. that was part of what was so appealing to the public. he was a celebrity, a famous actor, known for various movies, tv shows. he was glamorized, lived in LA just like the rest of them, edits to upbeat songs all over social media with his hips swaying from some random snippet of a trailer. yes, mike schmidt was a heart throb, but he wasn’t your typical golden boy. he wore jeans and raggedy t-shirts to interviews. his brown curly locks were always tangled and sticking in fifty different directions. his stubble was always a little too rough, his hands calloused and bruised to masculine perfection. he wore snap backs and had no sense of what a filter was. he said things as they were on stages, into microphones, or on livestreams, silly phrases coming out of his pink lips. he was carefree, not glamorous nor slouchy but instead some odd middle ground that left women with slack jaws and puddles of drool. he was what every woman actually wanted when they said they wanted a man ‘written by a woman,’ or so they thought he was.

in reality, mike was the biggest pain in the ass to walk the earth. while most 22-year-olds got to save pictures of him to their pinterest boards and kick their feet every time he came into their tv screen, you were stuck managing his every move, saving his ass from letting the wrong thing fall from his mouth in front of the wrong audience. you were his manager, of everything, really. you managed his social media, coached him through what to say during interviews, inspected the clothing he wore before events… there wasn’t quite anything you didn’t do for mike. the two of you had a weird connection since you’d started, not quite foes but certainly not friends. the air was always somewhat tense, something you were all too aware of whenever you’d have an interaction with him. you knew it needed to change, and fast.

you’d gotten the job fresh out of college, extremely eager to take such a high paying position. you were lucky and you were aware, your gratitude something you showed through your endless devotion to being the best manager, and hopefully one day friend, mike could have. when you’d first been offered the position, part of what made it so appealing was knowing not only were you being paid, but you were given a room to stay, in the same home as mike. it was crucial, living alongside your boss in order to keep him in check. when you’d walked into a meeting room after you’d accepted the position, you were debrief about mike, told he was… difficult, to put up with. he tended to push his previous managers to the limit, his somewhat childlike demeanor sending them running the other direction. you accepted this as a challenge, something to motivate you to prove that you were worth more than the other old and dried up pieces of talent they’d had in here.

oh boy, did you have another thing coming. you weren’t any different to mike. sure, you were gorgeous, your eyes a color he could drown in, your laugh something he grew oh so fond of over the past few months you’d lived with him, but you were just another manager… right? it was his job to make this difficult for you. that’s how he saw it. so, you fought like you were pulling teeth, demanding he go change before going out like he was your 14-year-old daughter when he’d come out in a bleach stained t-shirt. you’d have to keep him from posting selfies of him smoking a joint on FACEBOOK just to cause a stir. for gods sake, you didn’t care if he put them anywhere else, just please, not where all the old people were. you’d argue late at night when you’d both head back to his place, your eyes filled with fiery anger after he’d drop some stupid shit in an interview, accidentally saying something about how one of his older costars were a “dried up old fashioned hag who needed to get some.” was he wrong…? no. but that didn’t mean he could say it.

he’d always yell back, his eyes filled with just as much anger. you went about this charade almost every time something had to be done. it could be a red carpet event, an awards dinner, an interview, even simply a live stream, there was always something with mike, something to yell and scream about. you constantly tried your hardest to stress how much you cared about this job, about him even too, sometimes blurring the line between professionalism and feelings as you’d get a little too intimate about the things you’d left behind, desperate for him to understand you, to see you.

it wasn’t until one night you’d finally had enough. he’d changed outfits right before a big interview that could’ve got him in front of multiple big directors, something big, even more groundbreaking for him. he’d been in an elegant outfit that fit his body so well, just like a glove, you could only imagine. of course, he hated it. he hated being coaxed into things, told what to do, to say, and currently, both were happening. when no one was watching, he’d slipped himself into a pair of black jeans and a tank top, walking out just like that, then proceeding to insult every director there individually. you were dumbfounded. no, he wasn’t drunk. no, he wasn’t high, medicated, or under any influence. this was just… mike, and you were starting to have enough.

the moment the two of you entered the house, you’d went at it, your face red from anger. how could he? how could he go out and blatantly go against everything you’d said purely out of boredom? he was a grown man, you’d think he could do better than this. you were embarrassed, not even for yourself as who represented him even though you should’ve been, but for him. you wanted this for him. your eyes locked on his, the moment you slammed the door shut. his big, beautiful brown eyes you most definitely didn’t mind looking into, no matter how angry you were. “mike, what the fuck,” was all you could say before he stuck his hand up. he went to turn on his heel, not even bothering to listen to a word you’d have to say.

that’s when you did something you didn’t think you’d do. this time, you’d let something slip, something you’d wished you hadn’t. “mike, if this shit doesn’t stop i’m fucking quitting, i’m leaving.”

that’s all it took.

that’s all it took for him to turn back on his heel to face you, frozen. his mouth was slightly parted, his eyes wider than you’d seen them before. he looked… angry.. confused.. no, not even. he looked… sad? he fluttered his eyes, his mouth opening and closing a little. you’d known you’d lasted longer than most, but this wasn’t what you were expecting.

“don’t,” was all he said, taking a couple of steps toward you. you stood there, frozen and tense as who was basically your boss slowly moved towards you, his demeanor different than you’d seen before. he was like a lost and wounded puppy, his dark brown eyes glistening with an emotion you’d never seen in him before. he reached out, touching your shoulder. you flinched, not even because you didn’t want him to but out of instinct.

“just, don’t go, y/n. i couldn’t take it, okay? i-i’m sorry, i’m sorry i fuck around too much, i’m sorry.. i just.. i don’t want you gone,” he said, his voice was low and growly. oh. he wanted you to stay. this was the first time he’d shown any interest in you in any way other than arguing, and you didn’t know what to do. with that being said, you did what you knew how to do best.

“okay,” you simply said, nodding your head as you went to your room. that night, you’d laid in your bed conflicted about the side of the man you lived with that you saw tonight. meanwhile, while you tossed and turned in your own sheets, mike did the exact same. little did you know, you were the only person mike had ever felt a real connection with. you were the only one patient, loving, thoughtful enough to be there for him, even through his hissy fits. he adored you, your style, your walk, your laugh, your humor, and he hated it. you were in his mind 24/7 and he hated it. but no, he could never get closer, because he knew you’d leave, just like the rest, and tonight was proof.

no, if mike were to ever attempt to get closer, you’d be the one to start it. and perhaps.. perhaps you would be, perhaps this encounter would be so engrained into your brain that you think about it daily, dissecting the look on his face. but who knows? maybe next week you’ll change your mind and pack your things, walk out the door. only the narrator knows quite what’s in store for the two of you…

[greenleaf4stuff]

Of Convenience 10.2

Of Convenience 10.2

(all previous parts of "Of Convenience")

Adar x Celebrimbor (silverscars) political marriage AU, 10th snippet, part 2. The elves’ and Adar’s protective antics towards their friend and husband are less than welcome, but Celebrimbor wouldn't be Celebrimbor if he just let others decide his fate for him.

Warnings for the mention/very rudimentary description of dead bodies and character injuries on a minor character.

This elf has escaped from Sauron himself, what did the elves and Adar think was going to happen?! Of course our favorite elven smith is not going to let the others have all the fun (danger) of fighting the fallen maia by themselves! Also, Gurlak for the win, because I love her.

To say that Celebrimbor was incensed would have been an understatement. Granted, he already had a plan, and he was fairly certain Gurlak and her troop wouldn’t attempt to talk him out of it, but the fact that his friends had decided that he was better kept behind the frontlines without giving him a say in the matter still stung.

Gurlak was throwing him sidelong glances as they marched back towards the encampment. Though, ‘towards’ was a very lose way to describe it. Celebrimbor had begun to drift off of the path that would lead them back directly some time ago, and neither Gurlak nor her companions had commented on it yet, though they had to be aware.

Cursing under his breath, the elf finally turned to the uruk woman. Finding out that she was both a smith and a fighter had been not exactly been a surprise, and Celebrimbor felt lighter knowing he had a friend by his side. Especially with what he would attempt.

"I cannot believe they expect me to just sit back and watch them walk into danger," he grumbled at her.

Gurlak’s face pulled into a grimace in response. It was clear she was feeling discontented with the way things had gone as well, even if she hadn’t openly protested her leader in that moment. Celebrimbor didn’t fault her for it – the uruk practically revered Adar. The Lord Father likely would have just scolded her and sent her right along the elf.

"It’s a shortsighted idea," she hissed through her teeth, and the elf quickly turned his head fully towards her and raised his eyebrows at her words. "Careless. They’ll need everyone there to defeat him. Adar’s protectiveness towards you blinds him. As it did the elves, but I had less faith in those than I had in him – no offense."

She quirked her lips up at the last part, and the elf snorted and shook his head fondly before he looked at her again. "None taken."

After a brief moment, he spoke up again. His tone was cautious. "What if there was another way for me to get into the city, without Adar knowing or having a say in it?"

Gurlak stopped abruptly as he said this, as did the rest of her group. There were about a dozen uruk she had been allowed to take with her to ensure Celebrimbor’s safety. All of them were looking at the uruk smith as she stared wide-eyed at the elf in their midst.

"I’d ask you why only you know of that option – and why you haven’t told the others," the uruk crossed her arms as she narrowed her eyes at him.

But Celebrimbor had seen the hesitation that came before the suspicion, and let his hope guide him into answering her.

"It’s just a pathway, little more than a sewer. Far too small to lead an army through. And so secret only a few know of its existance – the elven leaders do, but even they wouldn’t have used it. The plan was to openly reclaim the city to avoid any confusion or chance for manipulation in the aftermath," he explained.

A pause. "So that is the idea you were talking about," the uruk finally replied. She still looked as if she was fighting herself, and the orders Adar had given her, but the smirk on her face was back already. "I had feared you would attempt a mutiny."

Celebrimbor pretended to gasp in offense and placed a hand on his chest. "I would never do that," then he briefly thought on it. "Except, one might perhaps consider this sort of a mutiny as well? Though on a much smaller scale."

He stepped closer to Gurlak, and faced her directly. "That is, depending on your reaction to my plan, of course."

She was looking at him with an unreadable expression for a moment. "If I let you go – promise me, like with that sword you forged, you will use this chance to help Adar." She voiced it like a demand, but the look in her eyes was almost pleading.

Celebrimbor smiled warmly at her, and grabbed her hand to squeeze it. He had picked up on the fact that most of the uruk were less prone to touch than elves were, but she grasped his hand in turn and did not flinch from him. "I am doing this to help my friends and him," he held up his free hand when she made to speak again. "But I have to admit that ever since I have gotten to know Adar, I have grown quite fond of him."

He implored her to understand with his eyes. "I care about him. I tried to tell him as much, yesterday, but my words deserted me before I could. I cannot bear thought that he might…I just cannot lose him. Not now. Not to Sauron."

"So yes, I promise you Gurlak – I will use this chance to help and protect him. Not just for the good of middle earth, but because I want, no, need him to live."

Gurlak’s face turned from confusion, to awe, and then finally, to a sort of fond, almost motherly understanding that Celebrimbor hadn’t seen directed towards himself in a long time. Unexpectedly, she cupped his face.

"Hmpf. If he isn’t aware at this point that you care about him, he is a fool."

The elf blinked. "Wha-?" But she did not let him finish.

"Go and save him," she simply said. "Time is scarce. We’ll talk when you return. With him."

She turned towards her companions, and pointed in the opposite direction than the one Celebrimbor had tried to lead them to. With a completely flat tone, she exclaimed. "I think I saw something suspicious in those bushes over there. We should investigate."

Celebrimbor was gaping at her, and then felt his eyes widen as, one by one, the other uruk nodded or smirked at Celebrimbor before they also turned in the direction that Gurlak had pointed to, deliberately casual. "Oh yes, I think I saw it too," another said, equally deadpan. "We should take a look at that."

The uruk woman turned towards the smith once more. "I trust that you will find your way back to camp on your own as we take care of this...danger," she said, and then winked at Celebrimbor before she and the others started walking away from the elf. "Good luck."

"Thank you, Gurlak," the elf breathed. "And good luck to you as well."

With a wave of her hand, she went, and took the other uruk with her. Celebrimbor barely watched them for a moment before he turned around and began to sprint in the direction he knew the secret passageway to be.

Gurlak was right – time was of the essence, and he would not waste it, now that he could still make a difference.

Thankfully, it didn’t take long for him to find the entrance, and he quickly proceeded to make his way through the narrow passage. As he hurried forward while still trying not to make too much noise, lest Sauron had found this secret path and asked the city guard to patrol it, the elf couldn’t help but think back on the conversation he’d just had with Gurlak.

She’s seemed so awfully unsurprised at his confession. Was it truly so obvious, what he felt for Adar? Even if he still hadn’t dared to put a name the emotion he felt?

Affection, he’d called it. Fondness. But did that really serve to describe his own feelings to their fullest extent? His worry of losing Adar? Of perhaps not seeing him alive again?

This was more than the feelings he held for his own friends. Despite the fact that the uruk and him had only gotten to know each other a few weeks ago. But it had been intense weeks and unusual circumstances that had pushed them together, and subsequently brought them much closer than they ever would have been otherwise.

Could he truly be faulted, for falling in love so quickly; so easily?

For that had to be what he was feeling, Celebrimbor was sure of that now. The way his heart had ached after the previous evening, after he had failed to say what he should have. The way he grew warm at Adar’s touch and when the other smiled at him. How safe he’d felt when Adar protected or reassured him.

The elf briefly stopped to hold onto the wall next to him at the realization. He loved the other. And he’d let it remain unsaid as he let the other walk into a deadly fight with Sauron.

Determined, Celebrimbor quickened his step. The passage seemed near endless, with little light to guide him and no way to gauge how far along he was. The darkness and the turmoil of his own thoughts pressed down on him until, finally, he took another turn and almost ran against a door. Opening it made him stumble into a small, nondescript alley.

He’d made it. He was finally back in Eregion.

The smith let himself enjoy a brief moment of elation, both that his trek had been successful, but also that the city seemed to mostly be the same as he had left it. It had not been turned into a warzone, there were no countless dead elves lining the streets and no screams of terror to be heard from nearby places.

The elf continued to walk at a fast pace as he kept to the side streets and quiet alleyways, unsure whether or not his guards would recognize and try to seize him despite the presence of their king in the city.

He managed to avoid any and all other people, thankfully, and followed what cues he could find to where his friends and husband had chosen to confront Sauron.

Or, more likely, where Sauron had lain in wait; waited for them to come to him.

The smith was not the least bit surprised that Morgoth’s shadow had chosen Celebrimbor’s forge, and the tall tower that housed it, as the place where he would confront the alliance of elves and uruk. It seemed strangely apt, the elf thought sardonically while he hurried over.

An entourage of elves and uruk had followed Gil-Galad, Galadriel, Elrond and Adar to the tower. Where Celebrimbor had feared that he’d had to stage a distraction and sneak past, he now found the area around the tower deserted, and countless bodies strewn about the stairs and on the square at the tower’s base, uruk and elf alike.

He gasped in horror at the sight. Those were his own guards, but also elves from the Lindon army and Adar’s children. It looked as if some great power had thrown them about, while some others had clearly been felled by a sword or another sharp weapon.

Celebrimbor briefly squeezed his eyes shut and clutched the sword he carried, before he took a steadying breath and forced himself onward.

The interior of the tower did not look much better; he found even more bodies, but thankfully, some of the people he found were still alive.

"Glûg," the elf whispered, too cautious to raise his voice. The uruk in question was propped against the wall and holding onto his side from which black blood had seeped into his tunic. An elven woman with long, blonde hair kneeled next to him. Both whipped around at Celebrimbor’s words. The smith felt his breath catch in his throat.

"Elf," Glûg exclaimed, obviously too hurt to say much more as he coughed and held onto his wound to stem the bloodflow.

The elven woman stared at him with round eyes full of surprise. "Master Celebrimbor-"

"Mirdania." The smith felt relieved, both to see that Glûg and Mirdania were alive, but also that his apprentice appeared to be mostly unharmed. Sure, she had some scratches on her and her dress had seen better days, but nothing worse had happened to her it seemed.

She jumped up from where she sat and hurried over to him, and the smith caught her as she collapsed into his arms with a desperate sob.

He pulled her close for a moment, let the relief and hope he felt wash through him and strengthen his resolve, before he grabbed her shoulders and held her back.

"I am so very glad to see you," he said. They both had moisture in their eyes as they smiled at each other. "I thought he might have hurt you, or worse. I am so sorry I left you behind-"

"You were right to run," she replied, quickly, caught his hands and held them between her own. "Annatar, he- When he found out you were gone, he changed. He- he got so angry," her voice shook. Even if she was unharmed, it was clear the last weeks had taken their toll on her.

He cupped her cheek. "We were all deceived by him. It’s not your fault," the smith tried to reassure her. Celebrimbor wished he had more time, but he could hear fighting from up in the tower, felt the building shake even as he spoke, and knew he could not hesitate now.

"Mirdania, Adar and his uruk have formed an alliance with us. I must hurry and try to help them – take Glûg, bring him out of the city and to his people, I am sure they will be able to help him. Tell them you are with me, they won’t hurt you or turn you away."

His apprentice looked ready to argue, even as she looked at the uruk with worry. Glûg and Celebrimbor exchanged a brief nod – Adar’s lieutenant looked far from surprised to see him. "Come on, elf- you heard him. Don’t you want your city back?" And then he coughed, once again, and Mirdania seemed to make up her mind.

Her nod was jerky, but when she looked at Celebrimbor again, her expression was resolute. "Be careful. He’s stronger than any ordinary elf. Even Galadriel-"

Celebrimbor nodded, and then gently pushed her towards Glûg. "I know. That is why I have to try. I can’t let him kill them," as he made for the stairs, he took off his helmet, throwing it aside as he unsheathed the sword he carried. "Go, Mirdania."

He did not look back to see whether or not she would head his request. Love and desperation was pushing him ever onwards, and he would not falter now.