#My list of edits to make once my life calms down and I have time to set aside for graphics gets longer every day

[brw]

Sorry for falling in the Hank McCoy mines. I just miss him so bad gang.

[vintagebuckybarnes]

S'more Friends, S'more Fun

Pairing: Best Friend! Steve Rogers x Avenger! Best Friend! GN! Reader

Total Wordcount: 0.7K

Summary: Tony has arranged for all the Avengers to go on a trip so everyone can relax for a few days without thinking about saving the world. Once everyone is comfortable around the campfire, he brings out the marshmallows that will be used for roasting, and that’s when you discover your best friend, Steve, has never roasted marshmallows before. You’re happy to help him, as you’re always excited to show him the ropes of things he has never done before.

Tags & Warnings: Canon compliant, Avenger! Reader, genderneutral! Reader, references to a difficult childhood (non-graphic), found/chosen family trope.

Story Rating: Teen

Author's Note: Hi, welcome to my very first story written for Steve Rogers! I was in a very cozy mood when writing this, so I hope you will enjoy this fluffy piece with me. I also cannot stop staring at this GIF, as he looks adorable to the highest degree! 💜

Writing Prompts @fandombingo: Steve Rogers @fandom-free-bingo Bug Edition: Fireplace

Tag List: If you'd like to be tagged in my stories, you can find my tag list here.

My blog is for adults (18+) only, and most of its content is intended for mature audiences. Remember that you are responsible for your media consumption. If my content is not your cup of tea, feel free to navigate to blogs other than mine.

In all honesty, you love saving the world and the people walking around, but a relaxing trip to a cabin in the woods with your closest friends and colleagues has to be a close second. The atmosphere is relaxed as everyone sits around a large, crackling fire as funny stories are exchanged about one another, laughter being the best medicine to the problematic time everyone has battled through the past few months.

You’ve always been looking for the feeling of family, and now that you’ve found it within the Avengers, you’re more than grateful than ever to have gone down this path in life. Though your childhood hasn’t always been easy, with you needing to hide your assassin abilities, you’re making up for it every day by spending as much time as possible with your chosen family.

Tony, who’s taken on the role of the Dad you never had from the day you met, smiles at you as you gaze into the fire, a sense of calm lying over you that makes him feel more proud than ever. Without him, you wouldn’t be where you are today, and when you meet his gaze, you immediately smile back at him, appreciation visible on your features.

“Who wants to roast some marshmallows?” he suddenly asks, and you immediately perk up at Tony, mentioning your favorite treat. You’ve always enjoyed roasted marshmallows, whether by themselves or in the form of s’mores, but you’ve never been able to get enough of them. As everyone enthusiastically agrees, you can’t help but notice that one person is less enthusiastic about the idea than the rest: Steve.

There’s no one sitting beside him on the log he’s occupying, as Bucky has moved to sit next to Natasha to make their conversation easier, so you get up to be able to plop down on the log next to your best friend. From the moment you and Steve met, there’s been an unexplainable connection, and it has only grown over the years, making the two of you nearly inseparable now.

“A penny for your thoughts?” you ask. You look up at Steve, the flames forming a golden-orange hue over his handsome features. A smile tugs at the corners of his mouth as he tries to hide the embarrassment that’s threatening to show all over his face, his mind battling if he should tell you the truth or not. Though it’s relatively insignificant, he doesn’t enjoy admitting that he’s never done something.

“I- uhm… well,” he starts, his hand rubbing his neck as he’s trying to find the words to say he’s never done something as simple as roasting a marshmallow. You show him a kind smile as he looks at you, and that’s when he decides to go for it.

“I’ve never roasted a marshmallow before…” he says shyly, his cheeks turning bright red at the confession. A nervous chuckle is audible as he looks away, a bit anxious about your reaction. You surprise him with your response because you’re giving him one he didn’t dare to expect after everything he’s been through.

“Really? Well, in that case, I think it’s about damn time we change that, don’t you think?” you tell him with a broad smile, your hand lying on his arm in support. The simple touch is precisely what he needed to feel to know you mean it, and now he can’t stop himself from smiling, too. And that’s exactly how you explain to Steve how roasting marshmallows works.

With the first one, he held it too close to the fire, making it catch on fire in the process, which resulted in a burst of good-hearted laughter all around, but the second try is already a lot better. It’s still a bit more burned than he would have liked, but his pride in doing this makes him not mind the burnt taste.

“Thank you for explaining; I deeply appreciate it,” Steve says before eating the third one. A satisfied hum leaves his lips as the gooey marshmallow is now nearing perfection. He has rarely felt safer and more comfortable in his life, and he’s happy to share this moment with you, Bucky, and the other Avengers, as they’re his found family, too.

Navigation ~ Steve Rogers Library

GIF: Source ~ All the other graphics you see on this post are made by @vintagebuckybarnes.

[dontcallpanic]

WIP Whenever

I was tagged by a few people at this point - I'm so sorry I lost track of it all... I know @patolemus and @gege-wondering-around tagged me and I think @seaweed-water did too, once upon a time. Thank you so, so much - I am sorry literal seasons have changed while you've been waiting!

So... here y'are - Even this tiny snippet has taken so feckin long to write it's unreal!! Why is Derek's voice so hard to nail down!? I've written about 5 different drafts at this point! Dammit Sourwolf!

Anyway, This is the start to Manifesting Murder, wildly edited and then unedited, then edited again. All mistakes belong to me and my dyslexia - Mwynhau!

Stiles' fingers shake as he methodically wipes the blood off them, one by one. There's a detached calmness that's settled over him – he's in shock – and he knows what he needs to do next but he can't get his damn fingers to stop shaking. He almost drops his phone when he digs it out of his pocket. He's never been more grateful for speed dial, he thinks before holding the phone to his ear. It sounds far too loud in the oppressive silence. One. Two. Three. “Stiles?” He lets out a breath. Everything's going to be okay. "Yeah sorry to call you on your day off but I could use your help with something. Do you think you can get here anytime soon?" There's a long silence on the end of the line. "I'll be there in ten."

_______

Derek stares down at the motionless body at the foot of the stairs, a long list of expletives running through his head. One glance is all he needs to ascertain that the man is dead. Very dead. The head is cracked at an alarming angle and there’s a steadily growing pool of blood creeping across the uneven floorboards. It's an awful lot of blood for a broken neck but there are some things in the world that can walk away that. He should know, he's one of them. But this man… this man smells distinctly fucking human. Derek lifts his eyes back to Stiles who has been fidgeting restlessly the whole time, and rises one silent eyebrow. Stiles nods jerkily, grimacing as he twists a bloody cloth through his long, clever fingers. “Yeahhh… So. I – I er… need your help,” he says somewhat redundantly, gesturing towards the body. Derek's other eyebrow joins his first. Stiles waves him off, almost flinging the damn cloth with the movement. He fumbles at the last moment, hands flying out to catch hold of it before squeezes it tight between his fists. “Heh. Yeah. I know – understatement!” he laughs flatly before glancing up, eyes wild and slightly glassy. “Can you, er… help me get rid of him?” Stiles makes a shooing gesture, inadvertently wafting the scent of fear and death directly at Derek. He raises his eyebrows further and resists the urge to sneeze. He's actually somewhat relieved. He shouldn't be, he knows that. He should be calling it in. Giving forensics the heads up and letting the detectives do the rest. He should be taking pictures for evidence. He should be fucking arresting Stiles on suspicion of murder. Fuck his fucking life. Instead of doing any of this, he looks away first, using the moment to reflect on how perpetually screwed he is. He scans the body with a trained detachedness, eyebrows drawing into a frown as he takes in the height of the sweeping wooden staircase, the blood splattered on the nosing, the way it’s smeared across the treads. “He's definitely dead then,” Derek says, automatic and unguarded sarcasm falling flat even to his own ears as he leans back on old habits during these trying times. Stiles, unfortunately, thinks he is serious. “Are your eyes broken?” he yelps incredulously, flailing towards the body and sending another cocktail of scents directly up Derek’s nose. “Do you see the angle of his head?” Stiles makes an abortive motion before he shakes his head and strides up to Derek's side and gestures emphatically at the corpse. “Yes he's fucking dead! - Do you want to check for a pulse? Or do you think I need to call for a second opinion from Beacon Hills finest?” “Do you want my help or not?” Derek growls back, turning to meet Stiles' challenge as he slips into Derek's personal space. Derek bares his teeth, standing his ground and refusing to give way as he slowly folds his arms across his chest. Relief sparks in Stiles' amber eyes and Derek watches Stiles fight back a grin, tongue darting out to tease his bottom lip and he can't look away. “So you'll do it? You'll help me?” Of course Derek's going to fucking help him – is if that was ever in question. Derek is a sucker for anything that Stiles would ask of him and he fucking knows it. His features remain blank and impassive as he holds Stiles' gaze for a beat longer than is necessary, as if considering his options before he turns away and sighs loudly though his nose. “You got a plastic sheet or something?” he asks, teeth itching as the scent of blood and Stiles twists around him. He definitely shouldn’t like it as much as he does. Stiles lets out an intense sigh of relief that sounds a lot like a groan and Derek has to close his eyes for a beat. Fuck his fucking life.

_______________________

Okay... no pressure WHATSOEVER tags to the usual suspects @hellameyers @jadezdominion @gege-wondering-around @patolemus @seaweed-water

And the new suspects @teencopandthesourwolf @violetfairydust

And @oldefashioned and @cantchangemypast in case you wanted to read.

[vanishedinvain]

𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐞𝐩

summary: the night before anthony and simon's duel from benedict's perspective.

warnings: angst, anxiety

a/n: wc: 546. this is a cut scene from ch. ii. of perfect all-american bitch, my benedict bridgerton x reader series where benedict becomes the viscount, but can be read as a standalone since this is a flashback sequence! despite how long the chapters already are, that's after i've spent a full day editing them lol, so i'm thinking of posting scenes that i've cut/would've liked to include in the main story but wasn't super relevant to the plot (like this one)

Benedict and Colin exited the study feeling about a decade older than when they walked in. Anthony had provided them grimly detailed instructions on what to do in both of the worst case scenarios. The two younger brothers congregated in Benedict’s bedchamber to go over the logistics one last time. 

Colin was to remain on guard at the home. He would arrange for a hired hack to be at the house to transport Anthony to either the docks or the hospital. He needed to keep Daphne from interfering, their other siblings away from any violent sights, and their mother calm.

Benedict needed to contact the solicitor to secure their financials. They would need to give notice of either death or disappearance to the people of Aubrey village and to Parliament. They might have the Bow Street Runners called on them in a few days time. Benedict might have to arrange for the funeral and a casket and—

Oh dear, the room was spinning.

Benedict had been running through the list in his head for the past few hours, his cursed version of counting sheep. Colin was snoring on the bench at the foot of the bed, occasionally bumping against the frame. 

Colin seemed a great deal calmer than Benedict. He seemed quite sure that the duke would yield, or that they would both fire their pistols wide. Perhaps, he was truly that optimistic, if a bit naive. But perhaps, he was only putting up a front. Because when Benedict suggested Colin go back to his own bedchamber once they were through, his younger brother had insisted he was too comfortable to move.

It was a bald-faced lie if he ever saw one. Colin was taller than Benedict, which meant his legs were scrunched up when he was horizontal on the bench. But he managed to fall asleep anyway, and Benedict draped a spare blanket over him before retiring to bed himself. 

And truthfully, Benedict did not want to be alone either. If this was their last night of normality, he would rather spend it together than apart. He laid staring at the ceiling until the first streams of sunlight threatened to breach the inky sky.

It was time.

They made their way down to Anthony’s study. This would be Colin’s post; close enough to the main entrance to execute his tasks, but hidden away from the staff, and more importantly, their mother.

Benedict clasped a hand on Colin’s shoulder; he hoped the gesture came across strong and reassuring, but Benedict felt more like he was grasping onto a life-jacket.

Colin was still boyish, the baby fat not quite melted off his face, and looked entirely too young to be dealing with this. He mirrored his brother, also grabbing Benedict’s shoulder. “This whole affair will all be over in a few short hours,” Colin said with a small smile.

Benedict couldn’t bring himself to agree as it would be disingenuous. There was something peculiar in the air this morning, as hokey as that sounded. Something just wasn’t sitting right with him, but he couldn’t put doubts in Colin’s head. 

He was the older one, so act like it. “The only way out is through,” he said with the solemn resolve to bring this business to an end.

why was this cut? as much as i liked exploring the relationship between colin and benedict (tbh i love getting the chance to explore any bridgerton sibling relationship hence why beneloise got a whole prologue), but 1. i was approaching a ridiculous word count and 2. it didn't entirely make sense for benedict to start the story from the night before.

taglist: @daddy-obrien @noirrose21-blog @loviyysev1045 @giuseppeverd1 @chauchirem @camilalexa93 @books-with-se @alexlovesfiction @dreamssfyre @czarinera @chris9683 @g4ns3y @kindbearqueen @mattelbaby @witchyvoman @ayidipinursue @fairyellieee @78-bratz-doll @simbaaas-stuff @starcollector13 @bonitoflakes071 @dallamdoll @2005priness @mythixlly @sickmarriedandying @takemeoutrose @boojaynaqueen @amaliarosewood @everybodys-favorite516 @abrose11 @bluelittleblackgirl @guppypuppy84 @mayalopes @how2besalty @reginageorje @aprilthearcher @5hundreddaysofsummer @niniackerman @bonjour28 @thebazil3 @answrr @quadrisl @livingvicariously1 @bitchyally @renintheszn @napollya @bitchfuckdotcom @imagandom @bugg06 @my-queen-rhaenyra-targaryen @cassiejpg @mrspotterlupinblack @jinx53 @naclara98421 @themeanestlittlewitch @dpaccione @rainybabe25 @mysticenvy @crazymar15 @scooper-trooper @universal-s1ut @fairyfelicitysmoak @tittiemama @rr1tualz @giulssmediobolud4 @pastelpunkpercy @ladybird-666 @sparky2020sworld @radstrangerdinosaur @lillyrosenight

if you weren’t tagged, check your privacy settings!

[woohwaholic]

One Step at a Time {1}

Idol!Hongjoong x fem!reader

wc: 3,344

summary: you always let your work speak for you, never taking the spotlight, or even let people know your name. everything changed once the comfort of anonymity gets pulled from you.

warnings: cursing, not edited (let me know if I missed anything)

a/n: here’s the first installment of One Step at a Time! Im super happy with this and of the ideas that started processing as I worked on this more and more! I hope you enjoy as much as I do

Feedback is always appreciated

Prologue | chapter 2

✼　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　✼ ✼　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　✼

Your eyes scrunched as your phone ringed on the table beside you. The light it broadcast being the only thing to illuminate the early morning. You turned your back to the sound and light, snuggling deeper into bed and sighing in relief when it stopped. Just for it to start again.

“What the hell” you muttered to yourself before grabbing the annoying device. You pulled the charger out of the bottom of your phone as you answered, eyes scrunched at the brightness it emulated.

You put your phone on speaker and laid it down by your head. “What” you groaned into the phone.

An exasperated sigh left the voice on the other line. “Don’t what me. Check the news.” Haewon all but snapped back at you. She sounded awake for it being so early.

You sat up, immediately alert. “Why am I checking the news at” you press your phone to check the time. “8am on a Saturday? It’s an ungodly hour. Let me sleep.”

“Your face is on it” She deadpanned.

You felt the color drain from your face. Quickly, you searched your bedsheets for the remote that decided to hide itself at the times you wanted it most. You found it, hands shaking as you hit the power button.

“The creator of the luxury brand, Luxe, was discovered last night at the Baeksang Arts Awards. After years of nothing more than being a mysterious figure, now has a face and name to them-“ you groaned as the screen flashed your name and face across the screen. The phone slipped from your hand as you shoved your face into one of your pillows and screamed.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to blacklist her now?” You muted the TV as soon as Soomins image came onto the screen, captions letting you know that she told Dispatch everything.

“She broke the contract too. We could sue her.” Haewon sounds utterly gleeful when pointing that out.

“No. No. I don’t want to do that.” You sigh and rub the last of the tiredness from your eyes. “Call a meeting. Make sure to call Seokhoon. I know he can help.”

“Are you sure you wa-“

“Yes.” You cut her off. “He’s the only one who knows her enough to try to calm this down. Call Minjun too.”

You knew her well enough to know that she grimaced and rolled her eyes at your demands. She decided to ignore them, knowing you were stressed. “He was top of my list. I’ll see you at 10.” The line went dead.

You sat there for a moment before flinging yourself back. Staring at the ceiling and contemplating how different your life will be now.

You’ll never have privacy again. So many people can come knocking down your door so they can work with you. Friends who have no idea about your career will look at you differently, start asking for things. You’re not sure how you’ll handle that. People in your life looking at you to elevate their status more. Your future looked bleak in your eyes, and you started to dread this meeting. You rubbed at your face again before sitting up.

Nothing is going to change. You tried to reassure yourself. Everything will be fine. An idol will have a scandal and this will all be forgotten. You weren’t sure if you were hopeful of that or dreading it.

Your feet hit the cold tile, arms raising in the air as you stretched out your arms and back from a restless night's sleep. You never slept much anyway, but with being woken up so early and the weight of everything bearing down on you, you got even less than usual.

Coffee you repeated to yourself as you made your way to the kitchen. Flipping on your coffee pot and digging around in your fridge for some fruit, you leaned against the counter, the overwhelming smell of coffee filling your nose and making you momentarily forget your woes.

A small mewl was heard from the doorway, and a small white fluff ball pranced into the kitchen, the smell of coffee and the sound of you being awake alerting your poor cat that it was, in his mind, breakfast time.

“Muffin,” you cooed to him, leaning down to scratch his chin. “How’s my handsome boy doing?” He meowed back, looking at you with wide eyes. Muffin, like yourself, was a creature of habit. He smelled the coffee and knew it was feeding time. You giggled as he meowed at you again, this time a little more aggressively as he pawed at your hand.

A small chuckle escaped you as you shook your head. “Yes you little gremlin. I’ll feed you.” You did so, and was met with mewls of happiness and contentment, and then left in almost silence. Muffin eating being the only noise being made.

Coffee finished, and you grabbed your favorite mug from the cabinet above you. 1 sugar and the smallest amount of cream,just to give it a little flavor. Perfect. Leaning against the counter, you held the cup to your lips, letting the dark liquid soothe you for the moment.

The sound of your phone ringing broke the silence, making you that much more anxious about the upcoming meeting. Haewons name flashed on the screen.

“Yes?”

“Everyone has been called, texted or emailed. I told them coming was not optional and that we’ll see them at 10. I got quite a few questioning texts and almost all of them cursed me at least once.” She was so nonchalant about it, you couldn’t help but smile.

“Thank you Hae.” You checked the time, eyes bugged when you realized it was already 9:30. “I’ll see you in an hour.” You hung up.

After almost tripping over Muffin and throwing your coffee into a travel mug, you were dressed and ready to go. At least, you hoped you were.

Donning your favorite pair of navy blue and white striped bottoms with a matching blue wrap-around top with a neat bow tied at your hip. A silver chain belt with a long strand of it falling down the side of your leg, matching rings and earrings, and a wide brimmed hat, you looked yourself over in the mirror, making sure every detail looked perfect. You were nervous, and you needed to make sure that you looked collected and put together. You knew Minjun was going to suggest you make a press appearance. You grimaced at the thought.

After checking yourself over one last time, you grabbed your bag, a mask, slipped your shoes on. You walked out the door before turning around, forgetting the most important thing. Coffee. After grabbing it, you finally made it out into the beautiful autumn air.

Walking down the streets of Seoul reminded you of where you lived before moving to Korea. The city with buildings that touched the sky and streets that were busy but there was still a routine to it. Every day that you walked to work, you would be by the same few people who left your apartment building at the same time. You’ve never said anything to them, but the familiarity comforted you. Not seeing them today as you left made you feel strange, and left a bad feeling in your gut. You took a small sip of your coffee, feeling it help calm you a bit.

Your phone buzzed in your pocket, and you sighed, reaching for it. A text message from Haewon, followed by some from Minjun. Then an Instagram notification from your personal account, followed by an absolute explosion of like and comment notifications from your brand's account.

Confused, you don’t remember having anything to announce or queued up to post, you logged into the Luxe account. There, a black background with a lopsided A with a crescent shape behind it in white. You stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, just staring at the symbol. The words coming soon sat in the caption.

“What the fuck!?” You muttered to yourself, staring at the screen. The likes and comments that came flooding in in so many languages made your head spin. You squinted at your phone and tried to start reading some of the comments when you felt something careen into your back, causing you to momentarily lose your balance.

You took a step forward to balance yourself, and you felt a hand clasp around your wrist, assuming to be steadying you as well.

“Shit. I’m so sorry! Are you okay?” You looked up at the wrecking ball of a man who had just ran into you. The already cooled coffee spilt out of the little opening of your cup, onto the concrete and all over your hand.

He wore a blue and white plaid shirt. Ralph Lauren you noted. A Balmain shirt peeked out from underneath. Okay. Balmain. Interesting. A black bucket hat that hid most of his hair, but you saw small tufts of blue hair sticking out. Ripped black jeans and a pair of converse on his feet with a messenger bag slung over his shoulder.

“You made me spill my coffee.” You bluntly said to him. The abstract splatter started to stain the concrete. You shook your hand out, shaking away some of the liquid. You pulled yourself away from him and straightened yourself out. He started digging in his bag for something, and you felt some napkins land in your hand.

“I always carry some on me,” he said. You saw his ears turn a little red as he brought a hand up to the back of his neck. “I have clumsy friends.”

You looked at him, unamused, as your phone kept going off. Accepting the napkins with a small head nod, you wiped your hands off.

“Are you alright?”

You nodded. “I’m fine.” You guestured to him with you handful of soggy napkins. “Thanks for these.”

“Right.” The silence between you became awkward. “Sorry again. I’ll buy you a replacement if you’d like?”

“Oh. Um.” You weren’t sure what to make of his offer. “I’m very particular about my coffee. I’m also in a rush.”

“Oh. Right. Sorry again.” He bowed to you, ears bright red and quickly walked around you, turning the corner and vanished from your sight.

You watched his retreating back in confusion, before shaking yourself out of it and started towards your office again, faster and more determined than before. Each step you took made you more and more furious over whatever stunt your team just pulled in the middle of your own personal crisis.

***

“She’s going to be so mad at you.” Haewon paced in front of the floor to ceiling windows that looked down on the fashion district of Seoul. Her heels clicking on the tile floor each step she took. Nervously, she switched between biting the tips of her chestnut colored hair to running her fingers through it.

Minjun sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose under his glasses. “I know. But it’ll make her stop stressing for the moment and give her and the media something else to focus on for the time being.” He picked up his phone to show his older sister. “Look. All the likes and comments flooding in. The fans are excited! Luxe hasn’t worked with a group of people before! It’s always been one on one! And with them, you know they’ll want every moment documented! Especially this time of year.” Minjun got more and more passionate as he spoke, almost to the point of yelling.

Haewon stopped her pacing and looked at him. “Look. I understand that. But you should’ve at least discussed this with her first! I know it was a very sudden thing, and something that you got literally as soon as you called and made the offer. But. Eight men? With a short deadline? And they want to document it? I thought the point was to get her face out of the media, not in it more!” She sat herself in her chair, to the right of the head of the table. “You know how she gets. She won’t sleep until she gets it done.” Haewon leaned on the table and rested her face in her hands, pushing her bangs off her forehead. “This is going to be bad. I can feel it.”

“We just don’t tell her that it’ll be documented and write it into the contract that they keep her face blurred. Like she’s staff. It’ll be easy.”

Haewon laughed and slid her chair back to the window, on the lookout for you. She decided to ignore her brother. Her eyes widened as she saw your silhouette stalking towards the door of the building. She saw you give a nod to the doorman as he checked your pass and let you in.

“Uh oh.” She smirked a bit. “She’s mad. Like. Mad mad. You are so fucked.” She couldn’t deny that she was excited about watching you absolutely destroy her brother.

“MINJUN!” They heard you yell from where you exited the elevator. Minjun swallowed nervously as he realized how upset you actually were.

“What the fuck is wrong with you!” The meeting room door slammed open, revealing your flushed features and hardened eyes. You smaller your coffee mug onto the table, making the last few drops spill out of it. Unceremoniously, your purse dropped to the floor as you turned to glare at your PR rep.

Minjun swallowed again and started stuttering out his excuse. “People are excited! They’re not talking about you being exposed anymore!” Minjun shoved his phone in your face, as you seethed at him.

Sighing, you walked over to your chair and slumped down, your body deflating as you processed his words. You rubbed your forehead, a sudden headache blooming behind your eyes. “I don’t care Minjun. You should’ve talked about this with me first. I-“

The door swung open again and in walked in Seokhoon. He ran a hand through his long hair and shook it out. You heard Haewon swoon as she studied him.

You shook your head at the love-struck girl and stood up, greeting him with a respectful bow of your head. “Seokhoon. Thank you for meeting with us.” You shot a look over your shoulder at the pair in the room behind you. “We seem to be in a situation.”

His eyes roamed the room over your shoulder, and when they landed on Haewon, he smiled. “So I heard. Why do you need my help?”

“You dated Soomin.” Grumbled Haewon. She crossed her arms and pouted slightly as Seokhoon made his way towards her. He took her chin in his hand and pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. You saw her melt at his touch. “You know how to calm her down.”

He smiled down at her again and ran his hand through her hair. “She likes attention. Either get the media to talk about her or get someone more famous than her to ‘sweep her off her feet.’” He scrunched his nose at that last statement. “That’s why she did this in the first place. She wanted attention since she knew she wasn’t going to win tonight, and her show was a flop.”

You grimaced. “So she decided to drag me into this too?”

“She’s mad at you for working with me, and because I fell for Hae.” He and Haewon made eye contact and you can tell that they went into their own world for a moment. You heard Minjun gag in the background, which caused the couple to come back to reality.

Seokhoon turned to you and pulled out his phone. “I saw the Luxe post. Working with Ateez is a good move. Soomin has been after one of the members for the longest time. If you can get them together, she’ll leave you alone, and dispatch will have other things to talk about.” He leaned back in his chair and shoved his hands into the pocket of his leather jacket. “It’s simple. Give her the attention she wants.” He shrugged.

You threw your hands up in frustration. “I’m a fashion designer, not a matchmaker!” You started pacing in the same spot Haewon had when waiting for you. “I didn’t even agree to this collaboration in the first place.”

“Well,” he started, pushing himself up off his chair. “You better get on board fast. Ateez are big and can get your face out of the media. To a lot of people, it could be the collab of the century.” He winked at you as he reached for the door handle. “Make me proud.”

You rolled your eyes at his back as he walked out. Haewon followed closely behind him, sparing a glance at you, asking permission to leave. You nodded and she called out for him to wait. The door closed and you were left in an uncomfortable silence.

Sitting there made you think about everything that could go wrong and you started convincing yourself that it wouldn’t work, and that no matter what, you’ll be followed and used.

“Hey,” Minjun rested his hand on top of yours. The contact helped ground you for the moment. You looked at him. “He’s right, you know. Your face may still be there for a bit, but once the designs come out, all this will be in the past.”

You groaned. “How soon can you get me a meeting with them?” Your voice sounded muffled as you took your hat off and laid face down on the table.

“I can get you with them by the end of the week.” He pulled out his phone and started sending emails. “You’re taking this better than I thought you would.” He paused, reading something. “I want you to do a press conference too. Address what Soomin has done and said about you and our brand.” He said it so casually. Like he was talking about the weather.

You groaned into the table. “You know there was a reason I wanted to stay anonymous. I hate having all the attention on me.”

“Yes yes. I know. But it’s inevitable. Pick your head up. It’s not the end of the world.” You heard his phone ding and him type more out. “When do you want the meeting with Ateez, and the press conference?”

You groaned again. “The sooner the better.” Sighing in resignation, waving your hand at him, dismissing him. You heard him roll his chair back and get up, and finally the door shutting behind him.

Minjun paused by the door, hand on the knob. “You’ll do great y/n. If Haewon and I both love you, the media will too.” He sent you a reassuring smile, even though your head was still buried in your arms, and left, softly closing the door behind him.

After hearing the click of the door being closed, you took a moment to yourself, taking a few deep breaths to calm yourself down a bit and process what has happened in the last 24 hours.

You stood up, deciding to stop wallowing in your own self pity, and to do what you normally do when you work with a new client. You were going to go home and do some research. You snatched your hat, and walked by Minjun in the hall, talking endlessly into his phone. You nodded at him and headed down to the lobby.

You exited the building, not realizing there was a crowd of people lined up at the front of the building. Walking out, you were assaulted by flashing lights and people yelling your name and rapid fire questions at you to get your attention. You froze, and the feeling of Minjun coming up behind you, resting a hand at the small of your back made you shield your face as he made a path through the sea of dispatch, to the waiting black van. Once you were safely in, he climbed in behind you and slammed the door.

Your life as you know it, is about to change

[allthelittlecreepycrawlies]

(no idea about the quality of this but it's been in my docs forever and i'm tired of making little nitpicky edits trying to hate it less, so here y'all go.)

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

The rain has been coming down in torrents all day, so Meng Yao isn't expecting it when there's a buzz on his apartment's comm.

"I- I'm sorry to just show up like this, I would have called ahead, but- but he- he broke my phone and I-"

Ah. So it's finally happened.

This one had been surprisingly stubborn. It had taken over two months of careful manipulation to drive the wedge, and even up until he heard Nie Huaisang's voice, small and wounded and struggling to hold back tears, he hadn't been sure his latest gambit would pay off.

Gently reassuring his long-time friend and one-time partner that it's fine, it's fine, he's hardly interrupting anything, he grabs the keycard for his apartment and heads out to take the elevator down to the lobby.

At the sight of the sodden mess huddled on the bench under the touchscreen for the comm system, he clicks his tongue.

"Did he also break your umbre-" he starts to say, only to involuntarily hiss through his teeth when Huaisang raises his head and the bruise marring his right eye and most of his cheek comes into view.

"A-Sang," he says, carefully modulating his voice to only let out the concern, not the anger that is rising in the back of his throat as he reaches out to brush the younger man's hair away from the bruise. "Did he do this?"

Nie Huaisang makes a miserable little noise that might have been an attempt at words before breaking down completely.

Heedless of the fact that his own clothes will get soaked, Meng Yao pulls him to his feet and gathers him into a hug, slipping one hand under the heavy curtain of wet hair to rub the nape of his neck soothingly.

"We were sup- supposed to go to dinner, but when I- when I got there, he went off about how I was always- always making him wait and expecting him to put everything on hold for me like- like he didn't have his own life and- and I didn't know what he was talking about, so I tried to get my phone out to show him our reservation time and-"

And the brute had snapped at what he'd seen as Huaisang blowing off his frustrations to pay attention to his phone instead.

Just like Meng Yao had known he eventually would.

But he hadn't expected that he would have the gall to lay hands on Huaisang during the course of the breakup argument.

How dare-

Meng Yao closes his eyes and takes a slow, calming breath.

He will deal with the brute later.

Right now, he's achieved his original goal; Nie Huaisang has come to him when things fell apart, just like he always does.

Focus on that.

"Come on," he says, guiding a shivering Huaisang towards the elevator. "Let's get you upstairs and in a hot shower before you get sick."

"'Kay," Nie Huaisang murmurs, docile now that he's cried himself out again.

Once they've made it into the apartment, Huaisang continues to be quiet and pliant, silently removing his shoes and socks when prompted and making no struggle when Meng Yao guides him to the bathroom and begins peeling off his drenched clothing.

Meng Yao makes sure the shower spray is just below scalding before pushing Huaisang in to start warming up.

When his current job had made him able to afford a much better apartment, a good strong shower with extensive temperature control had been high on his list of necessities, and it had certainly come in handy ever since he had started this game of... "vetting" Huaisang's would-be suitors.

"Will you be alright for a few minutes while I put our clothes in the dryer?"

"Uh-huh. Sorry for getting you soaked," Huaisang murmurs.

"Don't worry about it," Meng Yao says, emphasizing the point by risking further soaking via leaning into the stall to kiss him on the forehead.

The tired, grateful smile he gets in return is one of the many reasons he has never seriously considered ending the game.

He changes into dry clothes and leaves a fresh shirt and sleep pants out for Huaisang, then tosses the bundle of their sodden clothes into the mini-dryer before heading to the kitchen.

Most people assume that Huaisang lives on nothing but sugar and caffeine, but he knows very well that in the event of a broken heart -or that bruise, which is one and the same- Huaisang tends to turn to sour and spice, and he has more than enough to work with.

Dried cherries, for example, and green tea with elderberry juice... and, of course, the pre-requisite, black pepper noodles with some extra hot sauce. All carefully kept in stock for nights like this.

While the pot simmers, he goes to check on Nie Huaisang and finds him standing at the sink, wrapped in a towel and staring numbly at his bruised, red-eyed reflection.

"A-Sang?" 

He bites the inside of his cheek at the way Huaisang flinches and turns, as if caught doing something wrong.

Keep the anger down.

Put on a smile instead.

"Why don't you let me help dry your hair?"

"Okay."

He opts to simply use another towel to carefully press most of the water out, since his hair dryer is too loud for the state that Nie Huaisang is in.

"It's hardly fancy restaurant fare, but I have dinner and tea for you once you're dressed."

The offer of food finally gets the knot of tension between Huaisang's shoulders to loosen, and he tips his head back into the hands pulling the towel over his hair. "Thank you, Yao-ge. I'm sorry-"

"Aht. No more apologies," Meng Yao chides, brushing fingertips along the other man's jawline to make him tilt his chin up even further. "You know I don't mind."

"Still, I know I have been asking you for a lot lately."

"The only thing you've ever actually asked for is to sleep on my couch. Everything else was my offer." Drawing away, he hands Huaisang the dry sleep clothes. "Get dressed and come eat before the noodles get over-boiled, alright?"

Nie Huaisang nods, and Meng Yao heads back to the kitchen to finish getting dinner ready.

Spare boiled eggs and some leftover chicken and mushrooms from a recent takeout night go into the noodles, and he's in the process of fixing some oolong tea for himself when Huaisang takes a seat at the bar between the kitchen and the living room.

Even if it's just something mundane like a shirt and sleep pants, there's always a little possessive thrill that comes when seeing Huaisang wearing his clothing, especially with the loose braid he wears his hair in to sleep.

Resisting the urge to drop a kiss on the back of the other young man's neck, he sets one of the bowls of noodles in front of him and fetches their teacups and snacks.

"Have you been able to contact your brother at all since the fight?"

Huaisang flinches, hunching in on himself. "I... I don't want to tell Da-ge about this yet."

...Oh?

This is a new and unexpected development.

"Why not?" he asks. "Worried he'll go hand out a matching bruise?"

Huaisang stares into his noodles, picking at them without actually eating any. "He'll be pretty mad about that, yeah," he mumbles, which sounds... off.

Just a little.

"But...?" Meng Yao presses, unable to resist the urge to open this box he's dug up.

"We... We had an argument just after I started seeing Jinhai. You know, the whole 'if all your relationships are failing, it's probably you' thing."

Meng Yao has to take a sip of tea to keep a derisive snort from escaping. The irony is thick enough to chew on, considering all of this had started in the first place because it had been the elder Nie who had torpedoed their relationship after finding out whose blood he shared and whose employment he was under.

"I mean, yeah, some of them were my fault-"

Which is entirely untrue.

"-but I really don’t know what I did wrong this time. I've been so much more careful about my calendar and paying attention to my alarms, you know I have!"

Meng Yao nods.

He does know.

Nie Huaisang's struggling attempts to maintain a consistent schedule outside of his work hours at the gallery had been very helpful.

"So... yeah," Nie Huaisang said, still picking at his food. "I know he'll mainly be mad at Jinhai about... this. I just don't have the energy right now to find out if there's going to be another lecture involved."

"That's fair," Meng Yao says as he sets down his mug and reaches for his own bowl of noodles. "If you want, you can use my laptop to send him a message in the morning."

Huaisang nods and finally takes a bite of his dinner. It's evident just how much the whole thing has worn him down in the almost mechanical way he eats, barely paying attention to the motion of getting food from the bowl to his mouth.

Meng Yao keeps an eye on him as he finishes his own meal, already incorporating this new information into his future plans.

Perhaps it wouldn't be necessary to continue the game as he'd been playing it so far. 

By the time the last noodle is gone, the adrenaline crash is in full effect, and Meng Yao reaches out to steady the mug in Nie Huaisang's hands before it can fall. "I think it would be best if you go ahead and go to bed. I'll clean up."

Huaisang shakes his head, but the motion nearly topples him off the stool and Meng Yao has to catch him around the waist.

"Bed," he says with more emphasis.

"Okay," Nie Huaisang mumbles, letting him fully take the mug away and set it aside.

Meng Yao guides him down the hall and gets him lying down, then goes back to the kitchen.

He normally doesn't like leaving dishes overnight, but, as he has done every other time a planned breakup has come to fruition, he decides there are more important things to focus on.

He puts up the packages of snacks, dumps the rest of Huaisang's tea into a travel tumbler, and takes it with him back to the bedroom to find that Huaisang is already asleep.

Good.

Meng Yao sets the tea on the nightstand, then sits on the edge of the mattress. He reaches out and brushes Huaisang's hair away from the bruise on his face, and his mouth presses into a thin line of anger and disgust before he gets himself back under control.

Switching off the lamp, he lies down, and when Huaisang automatically snuggles into his arms with a sleepy sigh, he doesn't bother to bite back a smile as he cups a hand under the other man’s head, gently rubbing the pad of his thumb against the little hollow at the junction of skull and spine.

With his father out of town, supposedly on important business, he has a full weekend off for a change. The prospect of spending the next two days making sure Huaisang has been fully put back together is hardly an unappealing one.

After that, he will make arrangements for teaching the latest ex how much of a mistake his violent lashing out was.

And then, thanks to what Nie Huaisang has told him about the misplaced blame from his brother, he will revise the rules of this little game before the next round begins.

[wuxiaphoenix]

On Writing: Hamster-Wheeling

If anyone tells you that you have to suffer to make great art, go ahead and tell them where to go. Because they’ve got it exactly backward. Yes, people who’ve suffered can and do turn that into the seeds of great art. Just like kintsugi - the art of mending broken pottery with gold and other materials - can produce wonderful, useful pieces again. But note: kintsugi is a process of time and mending.

In other words, if your days are devoted to stamping out one sudden brushfire after another, your brain may not have enough breathing room to write coherent stories. You need that rest time. That chunk of the space-time continuum marked off where no one is going to bother you.

Including your own brain, fretting about how to make everything stretch this week, or how many people you’ll have to call before you finally shake loose someone who can fix the latest paperwork brushfire. Argh.

(There are some pieces of paperwork I just print multiple copies of at my own expense, because experience has taught me the electronic submission they ask for Will Not Work no matter how many times I send it, and handing it off in person requires at least two extra copies and badgering the office for three weeks before they finally file a copy and admit everything is done.)

For better or worse, not having the calm to write does nothing to quell the desire to write. It just makes that desire... less than productive. Zen practitioners might be familiar with “monkey mind” or “grasshopper mind”. Your brain. Keeps jumping. From idea to idea. Without pulling together a solid enough foundation for any of them.

When my brain is generating a bunch of partial ideas, yet not gaining traction on any, I tend to call that “hamster-wheeling”. Furious activity going ‘round and ‘round without getting anywhere.

How to fix it? Auuuuggghhh.

It helps if you can maintain a regular schedule of sitting down at the keyboard and/or grabbing a pen and paper.

(Currently, not possible. I often don’t know what my schedule is one day to the next, much less by the week.)

It also helps to reduce the stress level.

(See above. Economy. Rrrgh.)

And it can help to get other in-progress stuff off your plate so they’re not an extra distraction. That, at least, I can work on. Even if it’s just, pick one aspect of the draft that needs edits and work from there. At the moment I’m doing my best to pin down a slippery medic character in The Words of the Night, and hitting any other edits I happen to spot in passing. Once I get that done I’ll check my list for the next trouble spot and hit that.

The point is to not give up. Eventually you’ll find or create enough of a calm spot in your life that something will stand still long enough to get written.

...One way or another. After all, Jack London reportedly lit out after inspiration with a club....

[sssammich]

ficlet: in pursuit of calm, lena/kelly

rarepair time, the superior guardiancorp edition.

born out of this headcanon and some chats with @sideguitars because why not LOL

anyway here you go, have fun!

--

There are four three things at this moment that Lena knows to be true:

There is a flickering bulb in her lamp desk that she hasn’t asked Jess to fix yet. She should, it’s been three days. But she keeps getting distracted that she forgets and then she walks away from her desk only to come back, turn it back on, and have it flicker randomly in her face.

Her coffee is tepid. Because she keeps getting distracted and she forgets and then she walks away from her desk only to come back, lift the mug to her lips, and taste the liquid be anything less than the perfect temperature.

Andrea texts her that she just picked Kelly up from the airport. Kelly, the woman who Lena left in Metropolis becaus Lena couldn’t be the one to get left behind. Kelly, the woman who has not escaped Lena’s mind since she left for National City. Kelly, the woman who just came back from her last and final deployment, and who’s in town to visit their mutual friend. Kelly, the woman who she never stopped loving, not even once.

Lena has no idea what to do with this information.

She purses her lips, her body sagging uncharacteristically in her office chair.

“Jess,” she says finally, pushing herself up after signaling to to call her assistant.

“Yes, Miss Luthor?”

“Reschedule the rest of my meetings for the day. I need to be somewhere.”

There’s a pause on the other end of the line, no doubt Jess trying to look at her packed calendar and troubleshooting this complete derailment on their day.

“Of course, Miss Luthor,” Jess responds eventually. “Is there anything I can do for you?”

"She looks at the flickering bulb on her lamp and flips the switch to turn it off. “No. That’ll be all.”

--

Lena considers going to the nearest bar. She considers going to the park for some fresh air. She considers a list of many other destinations she could be driving herself to. Yet where she ends up is to double park in front of Andrea’s penthouse knowing who is up there with Andrea.

She imagines soft dark skin. Black hair pulled into a tight bun. The gentle slope of a nose. The perfect cupid’s bow of her lips. The cute mole above those very lips.

More than anything, though, Lena imagines a kind smile and kinder eyes.

Her reverie is interrupted by a honk behind her, a car urging her to move out of the way.

She glances up the highrise apartment building before she drives home, instead.

--

She does not get a lot of sleep that night. She wished she did, hoping the three refills of scotch she consumed during dinner—nevermind that she had such little appetite for any of said dinner—would have lulled her to sleep by now.

Instead, she recalls the time before.

They were circling one another, working up to something. Until, of course, Kelly had gotten a call, one that deployed her far too soon for either of their liking. The U.S. Army reminding them that Kelly’s schedule wasn’t yet her own.

Which meant that it wasn’t yet Lena’s own, either.

Restless, she gives up on sleeping and instead walks out into the bathed darkness of her empty penthouse, the slivers of light from the waning moon coming through her living room window.

She does not know what to make of Kelly’s arrival in National City. Lena had left her old life in Metropolis, thinking that she’d left Kelly there, too. Yet now, here they were. The closest they had been in 18 months.

Lena taps her phone screen on and unlocks it before scrolling through her photos until she reached the last image the two of them took: side by side at the gun range in front of Lena’s shooting target, all bullseyes. Kelly’s lips are on her cheek, and the smile on Lena’s face is one she hasn’t seen since.

It’s…the happiest she’d ever seen herself in a long time. Mostly because this was the day before it all came crashing down on them.

She shuts her phone screen off and trudges to the kitchen to get herself a cup of water, drinking it in slight desperation that a droplet of two escapes the corner of her mouth and slips down her chin.

She wipes her face and wipes the water, though as her fingers meet her skin, it surprises her even more to find an errant tear having cascaded down her face.

--

Lena returns to work. She is business as usual. She goes through her meetings. She puts annoying shareholders in their place. She does not look to her phone for messages from a certain someone. She visits her lab. She talks with her R&D team. She fights the urge to message first.

The rest of the week goes much the same, an exercise in self-control. Or so she says.

By Friday evening, she is alone in her office having pushed Jess out the door knowing that her assistant has a date and should go have fun.

“Before I go, there was this one last message that came through just a little while ago. I apologize for missing it. It must have dropped from the pile.”

Lena waves her off and accepts the sticky note graciously, the sticky part on the back a little tacky against her finger.

She waits until Jess leaves before she reads it. Lucky thing, too, when she realizes what the message is and who it’s from.

She checks her watch before rushing out of her office, haphazardly pawing at her lamp to turn it off.

She enters the restaurant, giving a name she hasn’t uttered in 18 months to the host before walking behind him. When he steps aside, Lena finds her sitting, waiting. Like she expected Lena to show up. Like she was so sure.

She hates her a little bit for it, if she’s being honest. But Lena finds it’s hard to deny her.

“Lena,” she says, her voice a dulcet tone, having been absent from Lena’s ears for so, so long.

“Hi.”

Kelly pushes her chair back slightly and stands, her posture perfect even while at ease, and approaches Lena. She allows her, of course, mostly because she’s rooted in her spot. Kelly then leans forward slightly, but pauses to see if Lena will stop her. She won’t, of course, and leans herself, allowing Kelly’s lips to press upon her cheek.

“I’m glad you came.”

“I was surprised to see your message with my assistant.”

Kelly grins a little, tilting her head slightly. “I didn’t want to assume, that’s all.”

18 months ago they had a similar dinner, but instead of catching up, they were breaking up. Or, rather, they were reaching the conclusion of a relationship that never truly began, at least formally. Lena had been a goner since the day they’d met at the shooting range just shy of four months before that. She’d wanted to get some lessons in and found Kelly at one of the stations hitting her target with precision. Lena had been impressed, but when Kelly glanced at her and offered a polite smile, Lena immediately wanted to know her name.

“You’re fine. So, tell me. How have you been?” she asks, leaning forward, her eyes never straying from that beautiful face. Not like Lena had a choice, really.

Kelly tells her, glossing over what Lena knows are gorier and harder details about her deployment. She can only fathom the terrors of war that Kelly has to carry inside of her, just hidden beneath a radiating smile.

In turn, she talks about her move to National City. About L-Corp. About the life she’s been living, angling her words just enough so as not to touch any of her sadness, of her heartbreak she’s been nursing for almost two years. If only because she knows that Kelly knows, that Kelly seems to be nursing the same thing.

They close the restaurant down and the two of them walk quietly out into the gray darkness of the evening, highlighted only by the lampposts of the sidewalk.

“Are you back for good?” she asks, the question having sat on the tip of her tongue since Lena first heard of her arrival.

Kelly smiles, her face a little solemn, but her smile still shining. “Yes.”

She nods, processes this information for all that it is, and perhaps all that it could be. Kelly reaches forward with her hand, her palm open for Lena to take, if she chose. She never forgot this—never forgot Kelly’s patience for her, for the type of call and response that’s only theirs.

She closes the gap, Lena's hand clasping with hers.

“Can I see you again? I’d like for someone to show me around the city.”

“Why not ask Andrea?” she asks, testing.

Kelly studies her, those dark chocolate eyes always reading her, reading through her, knowing her. “Andrea is lovely, but I’d like to try and catch up on all that I’ve missed, if that’s possible.”

Lena regards her, but Kelly presses on.

“Is it?”

“What?”

“Possible.”

Lena has a choice here. Kelly has always given her a choice, and is waiting until Lena makes one.

Finally, she nods.

She releases Kelly’s hand but not before giving it a meaningful squeeze. As Kelly walks away with a final wave, Lena thinks of four three things:

There’s still a lamp bulb that needs fixing that she really needs to talk to Jess about come Monday morning.

Tomorrow, she thinks she’ll visit the shooting range again.

The sight of Kelly has slowly unraveled her in the last few days, yet her heart is peacefully beating in her heart, calm and steady.

She has no idea what to do with this information, but she thinks she doesn’t mind finding out.

[awkwardtickleetoo]

Lee!George Summer Day 6 - Free Day!!

hellooo everyone!! pardon the fact that this is a week late lmao

this is gonna be for day 6 of @wishitweresummer ‘s lee!george event!!! if you haven’t heard of the event, you can click here to see the original post or here to see the tag of other people’s works for it <3 it was a very eventful week, everyone say thank you to summer for hosting it 🎉🎉

this is gonna be for the free day prompt, and i decided to use an idea that’s been sitting in my fic ideas list for ages for the occasion!! it was written in my list as “lee!george with ler!badboyhalo and george cannot take bad saying nice things about him at all, especially during tickles” so that’s what this is lmao, it’s pretty short and sweet this time

thank you again to summer for making this event <33 it’s been very fun so far

lee!george, ler!badboyhalo, just under 2k words

enjoy!!

--

“Okay, I’m going down to the kitchen, I’m hungry,” Skeppy announced as he stood up from the uncomfortable wooden stool he’d been sat on for way too long, stretching out his sore back before making his way out into the hallway and down the stairs, leaving George and Bad alone in George’s office. George mumbled something in response, acknowledging Skeppy’s departure and waving at him, still focused on his computer screen. Bad let him work for a few more moments, watching as he closed out of unneeded tabs from the stream and began the process of downloading the VOD for later editing and uploading, before he spoke again.

“George, can I tell you something, seriously?” He asked, his tone kind, and George looked over at him with attentive, wide eyes, furrowing his eyebrows at the wording.

“Yeah, what’s up?” He asked, glancing back at the screen to be sure everything was going well before leaning back in his chair, resting his elbows on the arms of the chair.

“I know you’re gonna roll your eyes at me for this, but I just wanna say I’m really happy you’re here now,” Bad said with a smile, earning a scoff from George as he shook his head and looked away.

“Okay– shut up,” He dismissed, leaning forward to pay attention to the computer screen again. He clocked through applications aimlessly, scrolling up and down, then going back to the downloading screen, growing more antsy as Bad continued.

“I’m serious! C’mon, I’m being serious,” Bad pressed, reaching forward to grab George’s shoulder and pull him away from the screen, making him slump against his chair and cross his arms over his chest. “I really am happy for you, honestly. I know firsthand how frustrating it is having to wait for something like this for so long, and now you’re here and you get to hang out with the people you love in real life, and that means I get to meet you in person as well. And that’s really cool,” He explained, earning very brief eye contact from George, who glanced over at him halfway through his point. His eyes softened instantly, the hand on his shoulder squeezing reassuringly, before he shook his head once more and gave Bad the eye roll he was expecting the whole time.

“Ugh, whatever. Just– shut up, you’re being an idiot,” George complained, trying to roll his shoulder to push Bad’s hand away.

“Hey,” Bad pushed further, his voice stern but calm. “I just wanted you to know I’m proud of you.”

“Oh my god,” George grumbled, sliding further down in the chair before shoving himself up to sit straight and bringing one foot up to rest on the edge of the chair, his other leg bouncing nervously under the attention. “Okay, cool, whatever, this is dumb.”

“You’re being dramatic, and I know you’re only being difficult and rude because you’re just as happy to see me as I am to see you.”

“Not true, I hate you.”

“You love me. I can see right through you.”

“You’re stupid, I never want you in my house again.”

“So next time you’ll come to mine?” Bad teased, calling his bluff, and George’s words caught in his throat as he couldn’t figure out another temperamental rebuttal. He grumbled, a pout on his face. “Exactly. You know you can’t lie to me about this stuff, you little muffinhead, I know you too well,” Bad said with a smile, and the hand on George’s shoulder jumped up to flick his earlobe, making him flinch and jerk his head to the side.

“AH–! Why do you keep doing that?!” George scolded, reaching one hand up to cover his ear as he leaned away from his friend.

“Because it’s the easiest way to get your attention, and it’s cute that you’re ticklish there,” Bad replied simply, as if he was just talking about the weather, and not actively making George’s head feel like it was about to explode. “Now tell me you’re excited everyone’s here.” He reached up and poked his ear again, able to swipe over the top of it between George’s fingers, making him flinch again.

“I’m not– stop!” George’s cheeks had quickly turned bright pink, and he could feel the heat radiating off them as he pressed his hand tighter to the side of his head to cover his ear, instinctively tensing his shoulder up for extra protection.

“You’re not what?” Bad asked, but they both knew exactly what part George was responding to.

“I’m not.”

“You’re not ticklish there? Okay, sure,” Bad said sarcastically, shoving George’s hand away to quickly swipe his ear again, making him yell out and push further into the arm of the chair to get away, using his other hand to cover it now.

“No! It just– I told you it just feels weird.”

“Yeah, it feels weird because it tickles, George,” He said, like it was obvious, like George was the silly one for not saying it.

“Shut up!” George whined, instinctively flinching when Bad took his hands away to scoot his own chair closer, expecting another attack. Bad couldn’t help but laugh at him, grabbing the arm of George’s chair and pulling him closer instead, the wheels making it much easier. “Stop it!” George complained, pushing his foot on the floor and stopping the movements.

“Are you gonna admit you’re excited?” Bad asked as he leaned in, putting one leg over one arm of George’s so he couldn’t push himself away.

“No!” George yelled, pushing at Bad’s knee with both hands to get his leg off the chair, but he only responded by swinging his other leg up as well, fully holding the chair in place. George scoffed, leaning away and holding onto the opposite arm, keeping his distance in case Bad tried to pull anything on him.

Obviously, it didn’t work very well– not that he intended for it to.

“Okay, suit yourself,” Bad teased, quickly flicking George’s ear again to distract him and make him reach his hands up, only to interrupt his movements by latching his hands onto George’s sides and squeezing.

“WHA–!” George squealed, his entire body curling in on itself, his hands launching back down to grab onto Bad’s wrists, too caught off guard to properly shove him away. “BAHAHAD?!” He managed through his laughter, not expecting the sudden change whatsoever.

“You know what you have to do,” Bad said again, and George shook his head, leaning forward in his chair as his knees curled up.

“Nohohoho!” He refused, and Bad giggled at how giddy he sounded, his toes tapping against the metal base of the chair as he barely tried to squirm away.

“Aww, George,” Bad cooed, speaking in the exaggerated faux-British accent that he always did to make fun of George, and George groaned through his laughter, squealing as Bad’s hands moved up to pinch and claw at his ribs instead. “Poor little silly Georgie.”

“Shuhuhut UHUP, Bahahad!” He complained, his fingers shaking as they wrapped around Bad’s wrists, but between the weakness from being tickled and the urge to clamp his arms down, he couldn’t keep that hold for very long.

“You can do it! Just say, ‘BadBoyHalo, I’m very excited you’re here to spend time with me’ and this will all be over,” Bad used the same exaggerated accent to make the example, making George groan in flustered frustration again.

“Noho wahahay!” George shook his head as he curled up more, leaning forward and hoping to force Bad’s hands away. Instead, though, they just moved further out, and his thumbs pressed into the sweet spot at the base of George’s ribs as his fingers scratched a little too close to George’s spine for comfort. George squealed, throwing one hand over his mouth to muffle the sound as his body straightened up immediately, his next words flowing out without much thought. “AH– okay! Okahay, okahahay, okay! I’ll sahahay ihit, don’t– dohon’t do thahat agahahain–!” He pleaded, and Bad withdrew his hands in an instant. He gave George a second to catch his breath, grabbing the pair of headphones that had been hanging around George’s neck since the stream ended and placing them on the desk, before resting his elbow on his knee and his chin in his hand, looking at George expectantly.

“…I’m waiting.”

“Okay! Just– ugh…” George said with another eye roll, and his body slumped back against the chair once more. He pulled both legs up onto the chair with him, knees together and resting against one arm as his shoulders touched Bad’s knee. Practically second nature, Bad reached out to brush his fingers through George’s hair, taming the slightly messy pieces that had gone out of place from his squirming. He let out a loud sigh, looking down at the chair as his toes curled against the edge of the seat. “I actually am, though, like… you know that, right?”

“I do,” Bad confirmed, and George’s shoulders relaxed at the understanding, nodding slightly. “I still wanna hear you say it, though.”

“Ugh, c’mon!” George groaned, throwing his head back and closing his eyes, making Bad laugh. There was a moment of silence, before George’s head fell to the side, his temple resting against Bad’s knee. “I’m excited you're here…” He mumbled, barely loud enough to hear, and clearly not good enough for Bad.

“What was that?!” He said, louder than necessary, yelling just to get a rise out of George– which he very much did, as the younger boy squirmed in his seat and looked up at him incredulously.

“Shhh! Oh my god, quiet!” He scolded, making Bad laugh at him once again. “Look, just–“ He let out another sigh, relaxing back again and dropping one leg, swiveling the chair side to side as he played with the hem of his shirt. “I’m really excited you’re here. I… I appreciate you wanting to– like… I dunno… I appreciate you, like, taking time to– to stay here and everything… or whatever…”

“Yeah?” Bad asked, playing with George’s hair again, resting his hand on the back of his neck as he nodded.

“Yeah. It, like… it means a lot, so… thank you…” George finished awkwardly, venturing a glance upwards when he was met with no response, but dropping his head back down when he saw Bad’s overjoyed smile. “Whatever, be quiet.”

“You’re so sweet, you little muffinhead,” Bad said as he ruffled George’s hair, making him giggle and reach up to protect himself once again. “Thank you for saying that. I’m excited to be here too,” He said, earning a sweet giggle and nod from George as he settled back down.

“Good…” He muttered, his face still burning, but his body feeling more at ease after everything was over with. He slid his arm under where Bad’s legs rested on the chair, letting it rest on the arm of the chair as he leaned against Bad’s knee again, sighing softly as Bad kept his hand in his hair and let him relax. The room was silent for a moment as he did so, and George honestly felt like he could’ve taken a nap if Bad had let him.

But, apparently that was too big of an ask for him.

“…Especially since I can do this now,” Bad said, and suddenly there were fingers scratching at George’s exposed ear again, the hand in his hair keeping him in place even as he squealed and squirmed.

“AH– nohoho!” George squealed at the sudden sensation, unable to twist his head away this time, making it that much more unbearable.

This was going to be a long, long visit.

[randomfoggytiger]

X-Files Collector's Fic: Cleaning Out the Vineyard House (Poll Results 2nd)

This list was inspired by this poll-- 1st part here~.

(**Note**: I'll edit out errors later when no one's looking.)

Loose chronological order below~ 

raspberrycoffeecake's Vineyard-Haven

""But he turns back toward the sea, retracts his arms, and wraps them around his knees, closing in on himself.

“I came out here once the year after Samantha disappeared,” he says in an even tone. He’s still looking out at the waves, and she wonders if he’s talking to her or to himself. “It was just a normal summer morning. My father was upstairs in his office, writing letters, making phone calls, ignoring us like he always did. My mother made me a sandwich to take with me to the baseball field, as if there had always been just one child to make sandwiches for. As if Sam was just a dream I had, as if she had never existed. And I finally decided that I couldn’t stand the denial. I couldn’t keep pretending anymore.""

Post Paper Hearts Mulder whisks Scully to Martha's Vineyard. She supports him as he processes his memories; and insists they start a relationship when it won't be based in trauma.

@syntax6's (Gossamer, FFN, Omni) Mulder 1998

""He opened his eyes and looked at her over the flames. "They say the ocean has no memory."

She licked her thumb and scanned the paltry breaking surf. "I guess I can see that. The tide comes in, sweeps everything away and washes out again, only to reappear a few hours later. It makes the ocean seem immutable, as though no outside force can change it."

"And change equals memory?"

"Sure. Every memory changes you.""

Pre-Triangle Mulder sells his father's Vineyard house because of the expenses wracked up during FTF. He and Scully share their beach disappointments; and they compare his height to the former scratches on his childhood wall.

Chimerical1975's Regular People

""Grocery shopping with Mulder was something of an experience. It turned out that he was a creature of immense habit with definite likes and dislikes. Since she'd barged in on him, she offered to cook whatever he liked and he put up surprisingly little resistance to the offer. In fact, he revealed that macaroni and cheese was his favorite thing in the world. But only homemade--he had to be close to starving to eat the stuff that came in the blue box. She was amused that such simple comfort food was something he craved, not to mention greatly relieved because it was something that she actually knew how to make. If he'd wanted ratatouille, she would have been in big trouble.""

AU-- TGTSC Scully's California flight was canceled; so she surprises Mulder at the Vineyard where he is cleaning out his father's house. They whack down yard weeds, move each other with respect and admissions on both their parts-- romantically and not living a normal life together-- and conclude their unresolved romantic tensions.

Folieadeux's Cyclone

""Closing the door behind him, he slid off his jacket and laid it on the hall bench.He'd promised himself that he would not take too much time doing this,that he would be quick and efficient, without unnecessary emotions. Just like she'd do it, like she had done it when it had been her turn.

// He sat in the hallway, his back propped against the wall, watching her. It was late spring and the yearly housecleaning was in full force. The scene was misleading in its normalcy. A woman in an apron and a freshly washed house dress ripping sheets from a little girl's twin bed, shaking puffs of dust in the air that floated in the sunshine before disappearing to wherever those particles went. Her jaw was set tight and her face was determined. Only twin paths of tears betrayed her calm exterior.

He kept silent, a skill he was beginning to hone as the weeks wore on and his sister didn't return. Every day the house grew more and more silent while they all pretended. What they were pretending was something he had yet to figure out. //""

Post Closure Mulder somberly packs up the Vineyard, apologizing to the house while battling morbid memories. He always felt he had to protect his mother: the woman who kept travel books but never traveled.

LuvTheBeez’s (mulderscreek) Packing

""Every object, every possession left in the house had been carefully wrapped and packed away only to spend the rest of its days in a dank storage room somewhere. These boxes contained once precious objects that no longer mattered to anyone, all of them things he'd looked at a million times but had never really seen. Things that had been carefully maintained, fastidiously dusted and polished, each holding a memory that was solely hers, that he could not share.""

Post Closure Mulder packs up Tena's house, frustrated that there were no more answers to be found. Scully drops in with comfort food; and both are glad she hadn't listened to his earlier denials and mild mandates.

OKayVal's 155 Words - Santa Claus, North Pole

""Dear Santa, I have been good. Please bring me a talking Crissy doll. And please bring my brother Fox a model rocket so he will be too busy to tease me. Thank you. Love Samantha Mulder.""

Post Closure Mulder soldiers on, cleaning out Tena's house. Samantha's "Dear Santa" letter guts him with guilt.

xraelynn’s (Gossamer) Illumination

""It’s good to see you, Mulder,” she said softly, taking a sip of her coffee. The smile in his eyes dimmed as he looked away.

“I, uh...I didn’t mean to run out of town on you,” he said quietly, his eyes fixed down on his coffee. “I just thought I...needed some time.”

Mulder’s face was smooth and calm now, but for days she hadn’t stopped seeing his expression of devastation and betrayal whenever she looked at him.

It turned out that she had needed some time too.""

Post Closure Mulder invites Scully out to the Vineyard, needing her company while he processes his losses and revelations.

@bohoartist's (Ao3) Unnamed Prompt

""Let me see!” she pleads, reaching for it, but he extends his arm just out of her reach.

“Oh not at all, Scully, this is way too incriminating.”

She sits back and pouts, sticking out her plump bottom lip and looking up at him through her lashes before quickly changing tactics and lunging at him.""  

Post Closure Scully rescues a picture of little toddler Mulder before her partner can destroy all of his family mementos.

Pattie's Sailor Spooky

""Besides, I wouldn't want to spoil your free time away from me."

His heart sank. He sat on the couch. After a long pause he told her the truth. "I just don't want to be alone, okay?"

Scully stopped filling the coffee maker and approached her partner.""

Post Closure Mulder doesn't want to be alone. Scully assures him he doesn't have to prove anything-- including making himself seasick by trying to bond with her.

@o6666666's (Ao3)

Untitled

""Martha’s Vineyard, he’d said, this weekend, and she’s already teased him that he ever thought it might be a hard sell. His Scully is made for the beach. Not least because her body is pink and freckled and cut from stone, but mostly because the ocean recognizes her at once—a Scully, one of its own—and she opens her heart to it like she does to her mother and small children, allowing her wild laugh and squeaky voice and a sort of space-taking that seems fundamentally opposite to the space-taking she does at work, with clipped tones, and where the littler she speaks, the more powerful she seems.

(By contrast: When he woke up this morning she had all the covers, and her arms were spread out like wings across the whole bed. “You cozy?” he’d whispered, sidling closer. She’d tucked him right in with her with a kiss to his nose. And doing the breakfast dishes together, he’d heard it—this dry little fart. She’d turned to him with wide, guilty eyes and he’d rat-tailed her, lightly, with the dish towel and whistled: “Scul-ly!”)""

Post Closure? Mulder takes Scully on a boating trip to the Vineyard-- and she boats, happily, like a crazy person.

Untitled

""Mulder, I can’t sail.”

He grinned. “Sure you can.” He was sure Scully knew the methodology of sailing. Perhaps Scully could sail like she could drive. When she was a little girl she could sail, and when she was six she accidentally hit Captain Scully in the head with the boom.

AU-- S9 Mulder bought Scully a boat for her 40th. The two go sailing while Maggie watches their son.

@scapegrace74-blog/scapegrace74's Pandora's Box

""He’s been at loose ends since his mother passed away, and she draws an invisible line around him, daring anyone else to cross it and touch his tender heart.  There are a million daily reminders of loss: calls from the family attorney, paperwork to sign, a father’s voice rising from a tour group outside the Hoover Building, “don’t wander too far away, Sam!”

So when he asks her to run this simple errand, she leaps at the chance to help."" 

Post Closure Scully finds an engagement ring in Mulder's things; and the two realize their weaknesses-- fear to take it to the next step for fear of guilt-tripping the other-- pale in comparison to their strengths.

@alienbaby-babymama/ABBM515‘s Potential

""Even though it had only been a few weeks since their partnership became an “official” partnership, Dana Scully would never have to be asked twice to spend a weekend by the water.

Mulder had mentioned in passing that he wanted to get his mother’s house prepared for sale. The place was big, required maintenance, and the memories engrained in the walls and floorboards of the house was not something he wanted to deal with. The property deserved love again. He just wasn’t sure he was the one to give it.""

Mulder and Scully-- still not dating post Closure-- sort out how to use Martha's Vineyard: a rental property so they can subsidize their IVF treatments.

@gabby-msr/ScullytoyourMulder/scullytoyourmulder993's

A Love Captured

""That night was special. In high school, I was the kid whose sister had gone missing. I guess it was some kind of curse. I was a bit of a pariah. Even on the baseball team,” he said, and he saw her frown in disapprobation.  

“But that night, it didn’t matter. We stayed on the diamond celebrating well into the night, the team and other people, too. Some people drank. I didn’t, I still had to drive myself home. People congratulated me.”

"I’m glad,” she told him, squeezing his hand. “I’m glad baseball brought you some happiness.”

“It did,” he said, but there was something sad about the way he said it.

“What is it?”

“My parents - they’ve never seen me play,” he admitted."" 

S8 Monica is trying to understand the late Agent Mulder. While snooping through his office, she finds memorabilia from his and Scully's vacation to the Vineyard post-Je Souhaite. Their trip was about him rediscovering and reinvigorating his past-- all of it: Samantha, his parents, Diana, and everything else-- with a newer, fresher start.

FatCat's Scully Pride

""Where's the car your mom rented? What did she get us, a convertible?" I grinned.

"Uh, no, it's not a convertible. It's over there." Scully pointed up the street toward a Toyota Corolla.

"Scully? A Corolla? I can't fit into a car that small comfortably."

"Uh, no, Mulder. Not the Corolla, the... erm... one in front of it."

I looked again and whistled. "A Cadillac Escalade? Your mom rented a Escalade for us?"

"She said something about it being handy to have with so many guests around." She couldn't meet my eyes. I knew she was embarrassed.

"Scully," I leaned down to force her to look at me. "Your mom told me about your Aunt Maeve. It's okay. I had some relatives just like her so I do understand.""

AU-- Mulder offers the Vineyard to Maggie's snobby relatives, good-naturedly hosting their get-together. The love bomb and a proposal is dropped; and Charlie fights Scully over her initial refusal.

WordsSpillFromMyOpenVeins_89's Weekend At Martha's Vineyard

""Less then ten minutes later, William was fast asleep on the floor and snoring with Ishy next to him.

Mulder pat the back of William's head, ran his hand down is back, feeling the rise and fall of his tiny chest.

"Oof. Don't know how much longer I'll be able to do this, bud. You're growing up", Mulder whispered against his floppy auburn hair.

Mulder reached out his right arm, to brace against the wall before taking the last two steps up to the second level of the Hamptons Style Bungalow.

Mulder carried William up to his bedroom, unlaced his converse sneakers and placed them on the floor, at the foot of the bed. Carefully covering William with the Van Gogh Starry Starry Night bedspread and tucking the edges under him, to keep him warm.""

AU-- S9 Mulder, Scully, Will, and their dog all vacation at Martha's Vineyard. While there, Mulder proposes; and all is chummy and famfic-y.

Enjoy!

[nomsfaultau]

(Potentially) Daily ask №6

Music edition!

Have you got a Fault playlist? Or a playlist for any of your works for that matter?

If the fault crew were songs, which songs would they be?

What style of music would each character listen to? Despite the fact that they probably don't have much time for it on the run

Enemy (the arcane version) animatic of fault. Yes or no. I won't be able to make it just got the idea

Slowly pushes Welcome home, Honey, Revived, Injustice/Voices (I couldn't choose cause voices is more epic but it's not rly about him is it) and Doomsday towards the crew just to see the reactions (presumably while explaining the concept of alternate universes)

Also update on the whole being afraid of insects and reading fault. I might have accidentally stopped being afraid of bees- which I think is an amazing confusing side effect

I use randomly generated playlists on YouTube when doing anything, so not really.

Got this one down! In this post that (I'll probably also rb) I discuss the top 3 songs I have for each character. But for bonus, I also like Sugar Pills by idkhbtfm for Phil since it captures his confusion/obsession/spiraling in the amnestic arc; Envy Green by the Arcadian Wild for Wilbur and his relationship with humanity; Ghosts by Danny Schmidt for Tommy. Not so much the part about killing the guy cheating on his wife, but it absolutely captures that guilt and self loathing, plus the extra juice of Tommy being both the hangman and the gallows. "If you've never touched someone you love/It'll burn them if you try"; and a general Razzmatazz by idkhbtfm for the Hallway Massacre/Foundation in general. I think it's about fame but it's also about fascism so idk. I mean the Foundation notoriously doesn't have a dictator but it checks off basically everything else.

Philza is probably really deep into some genre that died centuries ago and is like 'oh yeah you've never heard of it....it's really underground..' and people think he's a music snob but literally an avalanche wiped out the one village doing it, erasing all records. Tubbos' is very hectic given the Hivemind. There's definitely Disney princess songs in there for Jasmine which everyone just grits their teeth (..bees?) and deals with. Some old stuff from the 50s. Tends towards lowkey stuff. Tubbo canonically is bad at singing. The Blade canonically is a Swiftie. Or will be once that part is out. He avoids violent music bc the voices will ensure he literally never gets it out of his head. Tommy feels like he mostly listens to pop hits that are all on the billboard 100 list. Wilbur goes for literally anything. His exposure to music is mostly like. Walmart shopping tunes while he's robbing the place, so he doesn't exactly have an understanding of just how much is out there. But it adores creating its own music, and sings to calm itself down and control the void. Phil discovered the love and nurtured it by helping Wilbur get and learn a variety of instruments. The first was a woodwind Phil carved from cane. Wilbur's last mentioned instrument was a guitar with everyone's names written on it. Well. Besides the stuff the Foundation did...

ohhhhhhh yes. I can deffo see pieces of it. "Your words up on the wall as you're praying for my fall/And the laughter in the halls and the names that I've been called" with a shot of all the dehuminizing language used on the anomalies smeared in Tommy's Red, "The road is long, so put the pedal into the floor The enemy on my trail, my energy unavailable" capturing their constant fleeing, and just that leaving with "I'll never be a saint". Mmmmm delicious.

Mmmm dangerous games you're playing here with void madness, but I'll allow it. Welcome Home: Tommy finds it crushingly relatable. The part about colors turning Grey is a gut punch to him. I mean what hahhaha that guy is so depressed, he clearly can't be me.

Honey: Tubbo is just like. Muffin this other Tubbo clearly has nothing going wrong in their life- his? huh ok. Wait he isn't a bee?? Why is he so obsessed with honey then???? That's thievery. We're gonna sue.

Revived: Wilbur: .....this guy sounds like an edgy lil muffin. (Phil in the distance: mate you are an edgy lil muffin!) Shut up. Why is he so mad about dying? Like kinda inevitable with my -our?- lifestyle. And does this imply I'm going to die soon? (Phil: NOT ON MY WATCH). Whatever. The part about everything being mine sounds nice tho.

Injustice: At first The Blade is like uhhh this guy sounds a LOT like The Blood God and is on way too good of terms with the voices, but the line about yearning for peace wins him over, reframing it as purposeful violence in his eyes. He's entranced with the idea of committing violence as himself, almost.

Voices: The Blade: man it's like having a double dose of madness! Guys why can't you be cool like these voices? You never harmonize! Get good! These are clearly the superior voices. Also...am I really a scrawny pink haired nerd in that world?? bruuuuuuuh...

Doomsday: Philza: is it justice? I don't really know the context, but- (gets smacked by Tubbo) -ah, murder is illegal, even if it's rather effective at solving most prob-(SMACK) Ow! Muffining hell mate...I thought you were the one preaching that violence isn't the answer.

[lady-of-the-spirit]

OC Masterlist

Mostly made to be helpful for those taking part in the OC Creator Bingo event, but if you’re one of my followers I hope you like this little guide to my OCs! These aren’t all of them, but these are the ones I talk about the most, and some I don’t talk about but would like to.

General OCs tag: my OCs

Creations and writing tags: I'm making stuff, I'm writing stuff

Whump blog where I sometimes post oc stuff: @spirit-whump

Cut off is here because this is a long post and nobody wants to scroll past it.

edit: took ryoko and ten off the list bc I don't want too much of my original content online while it's still in the wip stage

Joan

Full name: Ioana, goes by Joan (no surname)

Fandom: The Old Guard (2020)

Faceclaim: Isidora Goreshter

Their main tags: Joan, Joan vibes

Fics/blurbs available: the Joan ‘verse (AO3), her post of origin, Nile dreams of her, home after a bad day, her relationship with the rest of the guard, Joan learns she’s immortal

Character bio/premise: Joan (born Ioana) died in an earthquake in the 1400s, in what would one day be Romania, and somehow did not stay dead. The Old Guard (then made up of Andy, Joe, Nicky and Quynh) were there in the aftermath, trying to help, and because Joan met them before they could dream of each other, she doesn’t know they’re immortal like her, and they don’t know she’s a new immortal. Some 400 years later, Joan stumbles upon a newly immortal Booker and despite befriending each other for a brief time, once again they part ways without realizing what the other is. 

After roughly 600 years of immortality, Joan is living a comfortable but lonely life, still unaware there are others like her. At least, until she dreams about Nile getting slashed through the throat. The dreams refuse to go away, and Joan manages to track down the young woman - and in the process, finds out not only is there another immortal like her, there’s a whole group of them, and all of them know each other. In an AU where Booker didn’t betray the team, most of her story is just her and the guard getting to know each other, trying to figure out how to make this new dynamic work, and Joan finding a place after centuries of not having anyone.

Joan is aroace.

Hestia

Full name: Hestia

Fandom: Thor movies, MCU

Faceclaim: Freida Pinto

Their tags: Hestia, Hestia and Thor (for shipping purposes)

Fics/blurbs available: first post explaining her concept, Light, however sorry they are (AO3), I thought you were mine, Hestia and her relationship with the Odinson boys, “what if” episode au, Loki series meets What If AU Hestia, what Hestia thinks of the avengers, Hestia is kidnapped

Character bio/premise: Based on the goddess from Greek mythology, Hestia is the eldest daughter and princess of Olympus, another alien civilization like Asgard. The eldest daughter, but not the ruler, Hestia has taken care of the kingdom in her own way - tending to the fires and protecting the home and family - ever since they overthrew their tyrannical and abusive father centuries ago and created a kingdom of peace and prosperity - with the exception of their rivalry with Asgard. In an attempt to avoid war between their kingdoms, Odin and Zeus arrange a marriage between Thor and Hestia. While both of them range from reluctant but willing to outright reluctant, they are married and Hestia comes to live on Asgard. She is quiet and some would say "meek" or "weak", and no one expects her to get along with the brash and bold Prince Thor. Surprisingly, her calm demeanor and hidden strength makes it easy to form a friendship with him.

While dealing with culture clashes and coming to understand her new home and her new family, Hestia and Thor become friends, and then (slowly for Hestia, very quickly for Thor) fall in love. They remain happily married for centuries - up until the events of Thor 1 take place, followed by the rest of the MCU, making their lives a whole lot more complicated.

Hestia is asexual biromantic.

Marianne

Full name: Marianne Ouellet (maiden name/preferred name), Marianne Schulman (legal name)

Fandom: X-Men prequels (First Class, Days of Future Past, Apocalypse) (Dark Phoenix does not exist on this blog)

Faceclaim: Clemence Poesy

Their tags: Marianne, Marianne Ouellet

Fics/blurbs available: Ethereal (AO3), a little fic about her and her husband, full character profile, text post edits, a little ‘cover’ I made for the fic

Character bio/premise: Born in 1931 in Montreal, moving to the States when she was 19, a single mother to a happy 12-year-old, widow of five years, and owner of a local used bookstore for 12 years, Marianne lives a hectic but normal life. She keeps her store running, her son safe and happy, and is happy to "mom friend" the kids around the neighbourhood. It's a normal existence - up until Charles Xavier and Erik Lehnsherr basically break into her store, tell her they know she has telekinesis, and ask her to save the world with them and other mutants like her.

While she initially refuses their offer, she later changes her mind, needing to keep her son safe. When she joins the other mutants, she finds herself joining a community she didn't know she needed, becoming the unofficial Team Mom of the group, and facing emotional issues she had pushed down for years.

Marianne is bisexual.

Kris

Full name: Kristina Maria Stark

Fandom: Iron Man movies, MCU (canon divergent after Avengers)

Faceclaim: Olivia Cooke (young Olivia Cooke - I've had her so long, I've seen her faceclaim age with her)

Their tags: Kris, Kris Stark, scarlet girlfriends (for shipping purposes)

Fics/blurbs available: an ask explaining her character, “You saved my life” wandaxkris fic, short krisxwanda fic, “what if” episode au, what Kris thinks of the avengers, Kris vs Alicent Hightower venn diagram

Character bio/premise: As the beloved daughter of Tony Stark and heiress to Stark Industries, Kris basically has everything she could ever want, and she loves it. Until she and her dad get kidnapped by terrorists and are trapped in a cave for three months. After returning home, forever changed by the experience, her dad wants to go out and make sure Stark Industry weapons are wiped from the planet, while Kris just wants to forget it ever happened and return to her normal life. It takes being terrorized by her honourary grandfather and her father creating a supersuit and becoming a public superhero to realize that their lives are never getting back to normal. It takes her father nearly dying less than a year later for Kris to take up the mantle as another superhero, pushing her life as far from normal as it gets.

Kris is a lesbian and dating Wanda.

Rose

Full name: Rose, codename Venom

Fandom: Power Rangers: Jungle Fury

Faceclaim: Brittany O’Grady

Their tags: Rose

Fics/blurbs available: a whole post I made about her premise, her choice of animal, her having a breakdown, what happens in Ghost of a Chance (AO3)

Character bio/premise: 10,000 years ago, Rose - abandoned as a child, then abused and tormented by her Pai Zhuq master - chooses to join the evil Dai Shi, wanting revenge on humanity for the pain she’s suffered. She’s made into a double agent, spying on the humans for Dai Shi. It goes well, until the war is won by the Pai Zhuq and Dai Shi is sealed away. To keep her safe, Dai Shi turns Rose to stone, and she waits for 10,000 years before he returns and tasks her with being a double agent once more, this time spying on the power rangers who threaten his attempts to take over the world.

It’s supposed to be an easy mission. She sews discord in the group, avoids getting too close, and reports back to her Lord with information to destroy the rangers. But slowly, the safety and kindness of her fake life starts to feel more welcoming than the cruelty she had accepted before, and Rose suddenly finds herself at a crossroads - to choose revenge and a life she’s been told is the only one she deserves, or her new friends and a life she thinks she actually deserves.

Cara

Full name: Cara Anderson (chosen name), Carina Alvarez (legal name)

Fandom: MCU (canon divergent after Avengers)

Faceclaim: Odette Annable

Their tags: Cara, Cara Anderson, my sister’s ocs

Fics/blurbs available: None

Character bio/premise: Raised by HYDRA to be an assassin, Cara never knew anything but abuse and cruelty, except for the love of her twin, Quinn. That all ended when she realized just how fucked up HYDRA was and made plans to run away with Quinn. Those plans came to an end when SHIELD attacked their HYDRA facilities and Quinn died in the attack. Grieving, but ready to leave HYDRA behind, Cara agrees to join SHIELD (not knowing HYDRA and SHIELD are one and the same) and become an agent for them after being given a second chance by Clint Barton, as well as Natasha Romanoff, Nick Fury, and Maria Ross (who would eventually become her best friend). Years go by and she’s definitely one of their best agents, although she still has a lot of unprocessed trauma and anger. Things get a little better when she finds a family with the Avengers. Things get a lot better when she meets Sam Wilson, whose good heart and entire character is a bright spot in her stormy life.

Cara is bisexual.

Valerie

Full name: Valerie Jenkins

Fandom: MCU (canon divergent after Avengers)

Faceclaim: Amanda Seyfried

Their tags: Valerie, my sister’s ocs

Fics/blurbs available: None

Character bio/premise: Valerie is just a kid when her parents die and she’s sent to live with her aunt. She’s still just a kid when her aunt is in a car accident and ends up in a coma and Valerie is sent to live in foster care, before running away and living on the streets. She’s still just a kid when she discovers she’s a mutant with the ability to control metal. For years she lives as a drifter, but eventually she’s able to get off the streets and make ends meet as a waitress in NYC - up until aliens attack. Using her powers to fight, she’s discovered by the Avengers and SHIELD and recruited, and ends up living in the Avengers tower with the rest of them. After years of not having anyone, she’s finally found herself a space space and a family - a family that gets even bigger when the Maximoff twins show up and she finds herself growing closer to Pietro.

[gummybugg]

🔥Character Names + Meanings: Crater City Edition!!!💥

Tagged by @rickie-the-storyteller (here) I think for a second time because that other time, I lost whatever I was working on tbh! But! I am back in the game baby!

Rules: Make a list of your main OCs and find out the meanings of their names. Then write down their definition and whether or not you think the definition fits their character.

Get ready for a doozy

...

Blair

Scottish surname derived from Gaelic blàr meaning “plain, field, battlefield”

Battlefield? Accurate. This could be related to his poor temper or relentless spunk. 

I personally chose this name because it gave passionate, fiery vibes. I also love gender neutral names/names whose “gender” changes over the course of time. 

I'm unsure if Blair chose this name for himself, but all I know is that it fit perfectly, I think!

Elijah

Hebrew name meaning “Jehovah is my God.”

This is ironic considering he is an atheist (the post-apocalypse will do that to a man)

Then why did I choose this name? Because the name sounded nice and gave off the color yellow and feels powerful. Elijah is a strong character who undergoes a lot of confidence-boosting changes in-story!

Darcy

Irish origin, meaning "dark one, or from Arcy, or from the fortress" or “dark-haired” or “descendant of the dark.” (muahahaha)

It’s funny how his name lines up with his personality without my awareness! (I am rubbing my hands together like an evil fly)

I really chose this name because I wanted a unique name (that once again is gender-neutral) for our multifaceted antagonist. Even his name gets on my nerves because I know how much of an asshole he is!

Frasier

Scottish/French roots; “Of the forest men; Strawberry; Strawberry plant.” Also that one guy from the show with the same name. 

I’m gonna be honest, I intentionally picked his name because it means “strawberry.” I just love the idea of fruit/flower names!

Strawberries can symbolize healing, passion, or love, which I think sums up his development in the story pretty well…Frasier is generally cordial and polite to those he doesn’t know too well…He goes through a lot of emotional moments...He also embroiders flowers that he visits on his breaks in a secret garden in city hall!

Melony

From Mélanie, the French form of the Latin name Melania, derived from Greek melaina meaning "black, dark".

Relevant because she has a dark past🎶+ covers up her trauma with sanrio and puffy stickers!

I chose this name because it reminds me of pink and cute things, which is a guise for that spooky mad-scientist thing she has going on (also, can’t a girl have a little fun? It’s the end of the world, after all)

Vestal

Roman, meaning “chaste or pure; of or relating to the Roman goddess Vesta.”

Well, that couldn’t be further from the truth.

Like I said, I choose names because of their vibes. I just think “Vestal” sounds like a badass femme droid’s name. Am I wrong??

Virgil

Latin, meaning “flourishing, staff bearer.”

I chose this name because it gives off cool, chill, and teal-colored vibes. It also sounds like a great “partners in crime name” alongside Vestal’s name

Virgil is the calm and collected masc droid to complement Vestal’s rambunctious nature, so I think “staff bearer” fits. Flourishing could refer to the development he undergoes when learning to value [human] life more (though he is not mortal)

...

Lightly tagging @charlesjosephwrites @flock-from-the-void @winglesswriter @jay-avian @anulithots @twilightscribbles @celebratedloser (and whoever wants to give it a shot)

...

🚗crater city taglist (dm to be added/removed): @writeouswriter @lyra-brie @digitalsatyr23 @talesfromtheunknowable

[bgallen]

Pink grasshoppers, reading children's books, Six Triple Eight, and more...a Friday List

Happy Friday!

I hope that you have had an enjoyable week with hopefully decent weather. I know that in many places this week the weather has been devastating. I have compiled a list for you to enjoy and as always I hope that you find one or two things to enjoy. I have also added some podcasts that I have been enjoying as well as a new to me book that I’ve begun.

 May your weekend be one of rest, activity, joy, and calm – whatever it is that you need in this moment.

 ·       Why adults should read children's books - BBC Culture, “So it's to children's fiction that you turn if you want to feel awe and hunger and longing for justice: to make the old warhorse heart stamp again in its stall.”

 ·       Texas Author Reunites with TikToker Who Made Him Bestseller (people.com), what a neat story!

 ·       The Pink grasshopper - Erythrism (roeselienraimond.com), oh my I have never seen one of these and didn’t know it was possible for them to be pink. It would seem more likely to find one of these in Alice in Wonderland than out and about in real life. Here’s another beautiful one, Anglesey: Rare pink grasshopper spotted in garden - BBC News

 ·       Six Triple Eight: The battalion of black women erased from history - BBC News, how incredible! Such an impressive accomplishment and I am so glad they are finally being recognized as they should have been. Tyler Perry is currently filming a Netflix film about them with Kerry Washington starring as well as producing in it.

 ·       Sounds of Motown (A cappella Medley) - Kings Return - YouTube, I really enjoy Kings Return…harmonizing is impeccable and covering Motown?! Even better.

 ·       DREAMIN' WILD Trailer (2023) Casey Affleck - YouTube, this looks to be a really great film.

 ·       Tiny Octopus Gets So Excited When His Diver Friend Comes To Visit Him | The Dodo - YouTube, oh my goodness – this is the sweetest little mollusc (yes I did have to google that.) I am always fascinated when animals interact with humans that aren’t animals that we keep as pets.

 ·       Elizabeth Cotten - In the Sweet By and By - YouTube, Learned something new today…”cotten picking” was created by Elizabeth. She was left-handed so she played her right-handed guitar upside down, which apparently is not the easiest thing to do.

 ·       Woodland (2020) – Sarah Anne Johnson, I saw Sarah Anne’s art on a house tour on youtube and fell in love with this Woodland series that she has. This is what she has to say about the series, “ I then transformed the photographs with paint, metal leaf, holographic tape, photo-spotting ink, and photoshop to create a more honest image that reflects my personal experience with the landscape.” I once had a friend tell me how she edited her photos so beautifully and she said the same thing as Sarah Anne, she edits the photo to appear in the photo as her own eyes and mind experienced it in person.  

 Podcasts I’ve been binging:

·       Lionsgate Sound | Scamanda, this is an incredible story….that I can’t quite wrap my mind around. I have found that I prefer podcasts that are hosted/created by journalists. Charlie Webster did a great job researching this story along with her team and the original investigative journalist that began the work and then she does an excellent job telling the story.

·       Betrayal on Apple Podcasts, another well done podcast. Heavier material than Scamanda, well it’s a different sort of heavy. Depending on how you handle things, you may want to read up on it before you listen. Both seasons so far have been so well done. The first season is now a documentary on Hulu.

·       Huberman Lab, I just began this one today. In the episode I began listening to today, Dr. Malenka is on it discussing how the brain changes in response to learning and reward and reinforcement. Fascinating and exciting stuff!  

New book:

·       Operation Barbarossa - Jonathan Dimbleby - Oxford University Press (oup.com), the largest military operation of all time – the invasion of Russia by Germany in 1941.  

[something-tofightfor]

Locked Down Part 1: The Room

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x Female Reader

Word Count: 4,982

Rating: None necessary? Mentions of the pandemic’s early days, quarantining, talk of COVID symptoms and after effects, etc. 

Summary: After contracting COVID at the end of a work assignment overseas and doing your required quarantine, you’re finally ready to fly home. There’s only one problem: 

The estate you were staying in has been locked down due to a major film production, and no one is supposed to leave - or, in the case of you needing a ride to the airport - come onto the property. 

With a little help from your boss and a favor from the head of the studio making the movie, an unfortunate mistake turns into the work opportunity of a lifetime ... and may even have a few bonus perks, too. 

Author’s note:

I don’t even know what this is, but here we are. I’m a sucker for a cocky man with fluffy hair and a gold hoop ... aren’t you? My take on Dieter is a little different from a lot of the ones others have, but I still hope you enjoy him. 

This is eventually gonna get smutty, but we’ve gotta work for it, friends... quarantining is serious business and Dieter is very nervous about his health. 

Thank you for reading; feedback is much appreciated on this one! Tag list to follow. 

You were bored out of your mind, and had been for over a week. 

It was to be expected - you’d been in a “two week” quarantine for nearly a month thanks to the fact that just before your first seclusion period ended after potential contact with an infected person, you’d tested positive for COVID, too. 

The whole thing was a clusterfuck, but at least your boss had been able to make a deal with the hotel you’d been put up in before getting sick, working out your ability to ride out both isolation periods there instead of having to travel somewhere else to stay. It was a nice place, too - large, lush green grounds, an old, beautifully constructed residence that had been converted into a hotel in the middle of the English countryside - but you’d been there for two months straight, and you were ready to leave. 

You knew that you were lucky, that actually being able to work safely during a pandemic was a luxury that few people were offered, and so you’d jumped at the opportunity to head overseas and film a segment on the property and surrounding area. It was relatively secluded, with low transmission numbers both on the property and in nearby villages, and you’d managed to get nearly all of your work done before coming into contact with whoever had gotten you sick - which you were thankful for. 

Your case had been mild - loss of taste and smell, an insane level of fatigue along with some coughing spells - and so you’d used the time to edit and organize the footage you’d collected and begin writing your feature, but when you’d finished that, you’d turned to any other form of entertainment you could find to stave off the last few days of boredom. 

Netflix was your constant companion, and the steady stream of books stacked in front of your door by a helpful bellhop helped, too, but the only in person conversations you’d had for weeks had been from your balcony to the people on the ground below, and you were halfway convinced that you’d be relegated to interactions like that for the rest of your life. Even though I know I won’t be. If you never heard another Zoom alert or got another request for a FaceTime call, it would be too soon, but as you paced around your room on the second to last night of your quarantine, you realized that even after going home, it would be more of the same. 

Your boss had already told you they weren’t sending you out on another assignment right away, that they were going to give you some time to adjust to being back home. Even though you’d already gotten the virus, none of your immediate family had, which meant that once you were back in your apartment, you’d be by yourself - again. “Shit.” Stopping in your tracks, you covered your face with both hands, trying to calm your racing heart. 

You liked being alone, liked having time to yourself - it was why your job was perfect for you, but even you had limits, and you were rapidly approaching them. Before you could continue to spiral, though, you heard your phone buzz with an email alert and quickly turned to check it. 

Your first test was scheduled for 10 am the following morning, and if that one came back negative, you’d have one the following morning, too. From there, you’d be free to leave the hotel, catching a ride to the nearest city and airport and finally going home. 

But you hadn’t booked a flight yet, and didn’t want to jinx yourself by doing it early. Instead, you confirmed the appointment, tossing your phone back onto the bed and then flopping down next to it, eyes on the high ceiling. I’ll figure it out. Head turning to the side, you sighed as you stared out the large French doors and at the night sky. I always do. 

— 

But there was no ‘figuring out’ the situation you found yourself in two days later as you stood at the concierge desk, the young blonde woman on the other side of it doing the bare minimum to keep you calm. “I’m sorry, we don’t have a record of you still being here, I closed out your file myself. I don’t know what -” 

“Someone’s been bringing me meals for weeks. I’ve had six COVID tests done by the staff here, and someone’s been coming to bring me towels and toiletries every couple of days, so how can…” You trailed off, the heel of your hand digging against your forehead. “I never even paid the bill for my actual stay, so how did -” “I think I know the answer to that.” The blonde’s coworker stepped next to her, his lips pressed into a thin line. “Your initial stay was paid for by your company. The last two weeks have been a medical stay, so technically you’re not in the system, even though you’ve been here.” You sighed, closing your eyes. “And unfortunately, we’re on a building-wide lockdown as of right now because of the cast and crew arrival for a movie that’s going to film here, so -” “A what?” You dropped your hand against the top of the counter. “A lockdown? I’ve been locked down, I’m supposed to go to the city and then fl-” “That isn’t possible.” The blonde spoke again, her tone flat. “No one is leaving, not while the movie people are -” “You can’t keep me here.” You felt the panic rising in your chest, the elation of speaking to people face to face almost completely gone. “I’m not a prisoner, I -” “No, you aren’t, but we don’t have extra vehicles at the moment. The entirety of our fleet has been rented by the production team for the next few months, and  they’ll be using them to transport the cast and crew between here and the soundstage.” “So I’ll call a cab or an Uber, or -” “We’re not allowed to have other vehicles on the property.” The blonde was eyeing you warily, and you couldn’t blame her - even you could hear how shrill your voice had become, the panic rising again. “It’s a production hazard, and they’re counting on us t -” “I want to go home!” You yelped the words, head whipping back and forth. “I’ve wanted to go home for three weeks, and now you’re telling me that because of some stupid movie that I -” “It’s a Cliff Beasts movie.” The blonde spoke again, her eyes sparkling. “You’ve heard of it? There are a ton of -” “I don’t care if it’s a Marvel movie and you promise that Chris Hemsworth is going to stay in my room with me for a month doing whatever I ask him to, that doesn’t mean -” “Chris Hemsworth’s kind of a dick.” You froze at the sound of a new voice, turning your head to the side and looking over your shoulder to see who was speaking. “You wouldn’t want to share a room with him. I had to sit next to him at the People’s Choice Awards once and it was fucking miserable.” Who the fuck is this? The man kept his distance as he spoke - white mask covering the entire lower half of his face and a pair of sunglasses tucked into the stretched out collar of his shirt. 

“Mr. Bravo, sir.” The blonde spoke again, apparently addressing the man standing behind you, and you narrowed your eyes in confusion. Mr. Bravo? What kind of name is that? “Mr. Bravo, your assistant has already checked you in, I’ll just need you to come and get your keycard and give you the information about your isolation -” 

“I think you need to figure out what’s going on with her, first.” The man gestured to you and you watched one of his brows rise, almost disappearing into the mop of wild curls that hung over his forehead. “No hurry here.” 

“Thank you.” Giving him a smile - before you remembered  that he couldn’t see it because of the mask you wore, you turned back to the desk and the blonde, whose eyes were still focused over your shoulder. “If I can’t get to the airport, and I’m not supposed to be here because it’s a closed set, then what are my options?” You looked between her and the male concierge, deciding that he was likely a better option to for an appeal. “There’s no way I can afford to stay here for the entire shoot. Can’t I just use one of the cars in the middle of the night or something, or… or maybe walk to the end of the driveway and catch a cab from -” “It’s raining right now.” The man - Mr. Bravo - spoke up after clearing his throat. “And the driveway was really goddamn long, so that’s not -” “How about this.” The second concierge spoke up again, nudging the woman out of the way and typing on the computer. “We will take the responsibility for this, and give you another night to figure something out. Call your boss, call the airline, call whoever you need to. We’ll have to move you off of your floor though, since that whole wing is reserved for the main cast, and we -” “Wouldn’t it make more sense to just let me go back into the same room?” You pinched the bridge of your nose, sighing. “Instead of cleaning a second one after I leave? It’s just one night, and -” “It’s a security concern.” The blonde’s eyes flicked between you and Bravo, her head shaking back and forth slowly. “The rooms are staggered, and if you go back, you’d be right next door to Mr. Br-” 

“It’s not a big deal.” Your shoulders slumped, the sound of his voice a relief. “It’s only one night, and it isn’t like the virus can come through the walls.” A laugh that was nearly a sob escaped your lips and you met the young woman’s eyes again, finding them filled with frustration. But why? I didn’t do anything wrong. This isn’t my fault. “And we’ve all gotta quarantine by ourselves, right? I’ll just lock the door, I think I can -” 

“We aren’t supposed to -” The blonde interrupted, but she was cut off by her partner, the man murmuring quietly into her ear. “Ok. Fine. You can go back to the same room for the night, and then let us know what you will be doing tomorrow. But please respect the film crew’s rules and do not interact with -” “Don’t worry.” You waved your hand in the air and then grabbed for the keycard you’d set down on the counter, sighing. “No one outside of my room is going to see or hear from me until tomorrow when all this shit is figured out and you’re watching me walk out that front door and straight to the airport.” Bravo snorted from behind you and you quickly looked back at him, noticing the deeply etched lines at the corners of his eyes - an indication that beneath the mask, he was smiling. “Just please don’t forget to bring me something to eat later, since I’m apparently still under room-arrest, and -” 

“We will, miss.” The male concierge ducked his head and smiled at you. “When we bring the cast and crew their meals, we’ll knock. Breakfast, too.” At least there’s that. “I’m terribly sorry about this. It never should have happened, and you have our deepest apologies.” Maybe I have yours, you thought as you thanked him and then the woman, too, her eyes still on the man in the mask behind you. But she doesn’t give a shit. 

Letting out a breath you reached for the handle of your suitcase and turned away from the counter, finally looking at Bravo head on. “Thank you. I meant it - you won’t even know I’m next door.” You paused, frowning. He looks familiar, but I don’t… “Unless you hear the TV. I got used to turning the volume up pretty loud, so if it bugs you, just bang on the wall.” 

“Will do.” He reached up, scratching the side of his head. “Good luck with your boss.” Yeah. I’ll need it. Stepping past him and making your way toward the elevator, you closed your eyes after pressing the button. 

— 

Two hours later, you were stretched out on your bed with the pillow resting over your face. You’d gotten ahold of your boss, explaining the situation, and after she’d expressed relief that you were feeling better and could come home, she pressed you for more details about the production that you’d found yourself in the middle of.

You told her what you knew - the name of the movie franchise, that there was a man named Bravo in the cast, that they’d rented out the entire estate for the duration of the shoot, and you’d practically heard the wheels turning in her head, the woman telling you to hang tight and she’d get back to you. It hadn’t filled you with confidence, but Carmen hadn’t ever steered you wrong before, so you tried not to think about it too hard, hoping that when she called back, she’d have answers. 

At the sound of a knock on the door, you pulled the pillow away from your face and sat straight up, eyes on the dark wood. Dinner. You were hungry despite still being unable to taste the things you ate, and you nearly sprinted for the door, pulling it open and bringing the tray in. It was the usual spread, and as you sat cross-legged on the bed with your plate in front of you, you kept your eyes on the TV, the volume turned lower than usual as you halfway paid attention to a movie on Netflix. 

Halfway - until you saw a familiar mop of hair on the screen and paused with your fork halfway to your mouth. No way. “That was Dieter fucking Bravo?” You thought back to the man in the lobby, and the realization made the way that the blonde acted seem much more reasonable. No, not reasonable, but … it explains it. Food forgotten, you reached for your phone and typed the man’s name into Google, laughing quietly as you realized that it had been him, and that he’d actually been gracious and friendly toward you - which was very different than the impression many people had of him. 

You considered yourself well-versed in pop culture, and had thought that you would have recognized one of the most popular actors in Hollywood if you’d run into him. But these damn masks, they make it … impossible. At the very least, it would be a really good story to tell your friends when you got home, but you had to admit that you were a little disappointed that you hadn’t outright realized it was him. Oh well. Tossing the phone down, you returned to your meal, trying to figure out if it was your imagination - or if you could actually taste the sauce on your pasta. 

Ten minutes after you finished, your phone rang, Carmen’s name popping up on the screen, and you answered quickly, moving to the balcony doors and standing in front of them with one hand on your hip. “So when can I come home?” She didn’t answer right away and you felt your stomach drop, your eyes squeezing shut. “Carmen?” 

“How would you feel about another job.” A job? What does that mean? “You’d have to stay there, but -” “Stay? Here? The woman at the front desk was practically trying to kick me out of my room today, how -” You’d moved out onto the balcony, resting your elbows on the railing and looking out into the dusky twilight. “It’s a closed set, Carmen. What would -” “I did some research, and it turns out that the studio head owes me a favor.” Hanging your head, you took a deep breath. “A couple of them, actually, for some publicity we did a couple years ago for one of her other movies, and because of these damn lockdowns, everyone’s trying to keep things small right now.” 

“Yeah, which is why I was here on my own in the first place, I -” 

“That actually works out well for you with this.” Carmen’s voice was calm, and you’d heard it before, when she was trying to explain the parameters of an assignment that she knew you weren’t 100% on board with. “I know you mostly do travel stuff - pieces on different cities and what they have to offer, but … what if I told you that I could get you hired onto the actual production as a documentarian?” 

“What the fuck does that mean?” Frowning, you narrowed your eyes. “How would that benefit us at all?” 

“Because,” she continued patiently, giving you a moment. “You’d be documenting the process of making a movie during a pandemic for the franchise’s purposes and you’d be able to double dip, using your experience to write about it for us afterward. Pictures, too, in an exclusive to be released in conjunction with whatever marketing blitz they do when the movie gets released.” Standing up straighter, you considered her words. 

It wasn’t too different from what you normally did - instead of exploring towns and cultural sites, you’d be focused on the single group of people - and the sets for the movie, along with the overall environment of filming during unprecedented times. I hate that fucking phrase. “So I’d have to stay here for the entire shoot? The girl at the desk said months, and I…” Trailing off, you realized that you had no real reason to go home, except that you wanted a change of scenery. But if I’m not confined to this room, maybe it won’t be … bad. “How would it work, Carmen? Who would I report to? How would I get paid?” 

“The production would hire you and pay you throughout. If you agree to this, you’d meet with the person in charge in the next couple of days to sign contracts and paperwork and all that, find out what it all entails.” She took a breath. “And then when you write the story for us, we’d pay you your regular rate, just like usual.” So I’d get paid twice for the same job. 

“I can’t afford to stay here on my own, Carmen. I -” “Hotel’s included in the contract, since it’s a closed set and you’d be in a bubble with everyone the whole time. That was something I did ask about. Your boss there will have more details, but … it’d be interesting, and you know it. Have you looked at the cast for this movie? It’s a ton of people, and it’ll drive our engagement way up. It’s a long job, but it … it could give you some new opportunities.” 

“I like working for you.” You did - it was the truth, and you wanted the woman to know. “I like picking my own assignments and getting to travel, and I like the freedom of -” “I think you should do it.” She let out a breath and then cleared her throat. “Things are pretty shitty over here, to be honest. There are shortages everywhere, everything’s closed, we had to scale the budget way down for the next quarter, and everyone’s looking at everyone else like they’re carrying the plague if they so much as sniffle. At least if you’re there, you’ll get tested often and you’ll know that the people you’re around are safe, too.” You hadn’t thought about that, but she was right. 

“And I’ve already had it, so it’s not like I can get sick again … that’s a relief.” Trailing your fingers over the smooth, flat stone of the railing, you eyed the expansive green lawn, the dim lights just turning on to illuminate it. “Dammit, Carmen.” Closing your eyes, you took a deep breath. “Tell them I’ll do it.” She laughed on the other end of the line, and you smiled too, humming quietly. “Why is this position open, anyway? Wouldn’t this be something that they’d want to have in place before the prep work starts? The actors are starting to get here, and -”

“They had someone, but they had to drop out last minute. Travel documents got fucked up, and she wouldn’t be able to get it sorted in time to fly in, quarantine and start with the shoot. You’ve already quarantined, so there’s no issue there.” 

“Isn’t that perfect.” Inhaling, you could feel the cool night air moving through your lungs though you couldn’t smell it, and you swore under your breath. “This seems too good to be true. I haven’t seen any of these Cliff Beast movies, so hopefully that isn’t a problem. But -” “You’re not missing much.” She laughed - hard - and you did too, the woman continuing after only a few seconds. “This is going to be good for you. I’m actually pretty jealous. Dustin Mulray is in it, and he’s -” “No, shit!” Your eyes widened as she said the name. “Who else?” The woman listed off a few other names, and as she did, your apprehension about the situation began to fade, slowly being replaced with excitement. 

“And of course Dieter Bravo’s in it, but you already know that since you met him.” I did. “I’m really surprised about that, since his last movie was such a different genre, but who knows what he’s trying to do with himself. Maybe he’s trying to get away from the serious stuff and back into the comedy, but -” “We’ll see.” You shivered, the air growing cooler by the second against your bare arms. “Thank you, Carmen, for doing this. Do you want me to keep you updated or send you drafts or -” “Nope.” What? “Don’t even worry about your piece for us until closer to the end of the shoot. As far as I’m concerned, you’ve got the next couple of months off. Just … have fun.” Fun? “I’ll call Paula back, and your paperwork should be in the production office tomorrow, or the day after at the latest. They’ll take care of everything.” 

A few seconds later, you hung the phone up, slipping it into the back pocket of your jeans and returning your gaze to the landscape. It was quiet - the only sound the birds chirping off in the distance and the faint rustle of branches, but that didn’t last. “I haven’t seen any of the movies either.” Dieter was on his balcony, a low wall and about ten feet of space between you. “And I’m actually in this one.”

“Sorry if I was being too loud, Mr. Bravo. I -” “Call me Dieter.” He smiled at you, the sunglasses that had been on his shirt earlier perched on his nose, though the lenses were clear. “And you weren’t. I just figured I’d see what the outdoor area of my cell for the next two weeks was like.” Oh, I didn’t even think of that - he’s gotta stay inside too. 

“It’s very small but it gets good sun for a couple hours a day.” Both eyebrows rose, the man cocking his head to one side. “I just finished a month confined to this room, so I definitely don’t envy you.” 

“A month? Why?” 

“Well I was here for work,” you replied, turning and leaning one hip against the railing. “And I came into contact with someone that tested positive while I was filming my piece on the town a couple miles away, so I had to isolate… and then toward the end of that, I somehow tested positive, even though I have no idea who it would have been from.” He winced. “Yeah, it was pretty shitty, but I didn’t have to go to the hospital, so it could have been much worse than just not being able to smell or taste anything.” Wetting your lips, you kept speaking. “So I had to stay here for another two weeks, which ended this morning, and I was supposed to fly home, but I guess they somehow forgot I was even here and locked everything down instead, so…” 

“So now you’re stuck here with us.” He smirked, a large dimple appearing in one cheek. “But the only difference is that while we’re cooped up in our rooms, you won’t be.” 

“How much did you hear?” Laughing, you rolled your eyes. “Nosy.” 

“It’s not like I have anything else to do.” Standing up, the man ran a hand through his hair, the curls sticking out even more than they had been. “You ever been on a movie set before?” 

“No, nothing like this. And I bet with it being so closed off, it’s going to be -” “None of us have ever done this shit before.” He rolled his eyes - though the action was playful -  and you caught the glint of an earring in the light spilling out from his room and onto the balcony. Didn’t notice that before. “It’s new for me too.” That might have been true, but you knew that you were still on unequal footing, due to his having to constantly adapt to different situations and responsibilities on sets and having the experience where you didn’t. “You’ll be fine.” 

“Mr. - Dieter.” You caught yourself, pressing your lips together and pausing. “I didn’t know who you were earlier, and I apologize for that. I wouldn’t have been such a -” “Don’t apologize. I know what it’s like to be fuckin’ stressed. Plus the mask didn’t help, right?” The grin that spread over his face made him seem almost boyish, and you couldn’t help smiling back. “And I know what people say about me. I know what people think about me, and it’s fine.” He shrugged. “I’m used to it. But…” He stepped marginally closer, though he kept most of the distance. “This is Hollywood. Not everything’s real. And maybe over the next couple of months you’ll get to know that.” What does that mean? 

“Dieter, I have no idea what that’s supposed to mean, but …” You gestured at the open door to your room, choosing not to look away from him. “This is the last night that I’ll spend in this room. That blonde at the front desk can’t move me out of this side of the hotel fast enough, so I’m sure I’ll disappear to another wing of the building with the film crew, just to make sure I don’t bother the talent.” 

His face fell slightly - which surprised you, but you understood that he likely wasn’t looking forward to spending the next fourteen days alone, much in the same way you’d spent so much time by yourself. “I wonder.” He mumbled the words, brow furrowed, but then his expression changed, the man’s face smoothing out. “The first five Cliff Beasts movies are on Netflix, did you know that?” I didn’t. “If you’re going to be working on the set for 6, you might want to watch at least one of them.” “Shouldn’t you take your own advice?” He laughed then, the sound carrying through the darkness. “We’ll see.” You didn’t know what else to say to him, and so instead of just standing there, you took a step to the side, closer to the doors. “I’m getting cold, so I’m going to go inside. If I don’t see you again until filming starts, I hope you have a good quarantine.” He frowned at you - pushing his lower lip out in an exaggerated pout, and you had to bite back a smile at the expression, keeping your face neutral. Oh, he’s trouble. The man muttered something in reply that you didn’t catch, crossing his arms over his broad chest. “Also? The groundskeepers make their rounds at about 11 am every day. So if you want to talk to a real person and not someone via video or over the phone, that’s your best bet.” 

“You’re fucking joking.” Head shaking back and forth, you kept your eyes on him. “The only people you’ve talked to for the last month are the gardeners?” Agreeing and telling him that there’d been a couple days where you’d said hello to a delivery driver, too, you heard him swear, his fingers tightening against his biceps. “Fuck that. Now I get why you were so upset in the lobby.” 

“Goodnight, Dieter.” Taking two steps, you paused and looked back, finding that he was still following your movement with his eyes, the man’s body angled so that he could watch you reenter your room. “The main groundskeeper's name is Colin, by the way. He likes fishing.” 

You heard Dieter’s groan as you stepped over the threshold and back into the carpeted floor of your room, lips splitting into a wide smile while you pulled the doors mostly shut. That went well. 

You’d never interacted with a legitimate movie star before, but if the job was everything that Carmen had explained, that would change over the course of the following few months. Dieter was only the beginning, you realized as you scrolled through the announced cast list, and while he was arguably the most talented, he wasn’t the most famous - and you had to wonder what the others would be like. Guess I’ll find out. 

A half hour later, you were showered and in bed, the TV on and remote in hand. As you clicked through the Netflix menu, you replayed your conversation with Dieter in your mind, trying to make sense of it. He usually comes off as such a pretentious dick, but he wasn’t… that’s not what I saw. 

Setting the alarm on your phone, you plugged it in to charge and then pressed play on the TV remote, snuggling down and into the blankets while the title screen of the first Cliff Beasts appeared on the screen. Might as well see what I’m getting myself into. 

—-

[cindyyberman]

more. | peter parker

synopsis ── no matter how well peter thinks he knows you, you're apparently determined to prove him wrong. ♡

── peter parker x fem!stark!reader

genre ── fluff

word count ── 2k

note ── i've been waiting for this series for so long!! i'm really happy with how it's going so far. i'm going through a major account overhall on everything on my account. my fics are gonna be longer and i finally found a theme i guess, so i hope you like this different kind of style. i hope you enjoy this first part of the series :)

♡ series masterlist ; marvel masterlist ; misc masterlist ; prompts ; character list ; request rules

warnings ── food and eating ; i'm really bad at editing cause my attention span is like 1 second long but i think i caught all the typos?? if not then i'm sorry

I am more

Than I could ever show

I am more

Than the girl you think you know

Privacy was not something you were rewarded with as a child. Despite Tony’s best efforts at preventing it, the media would have a field day whenever you did anything. The photos from across the street, the articles speculating on your love life, the questions directed towards you during press conferences, they never bothered you much. They did at the beginning, but then once you saw a newspaper article claiming that you were Natasha’s daughter and she’d abandoned you because of your lack of combat skills, you’d learned not to care.

What mainly annoyed you was when the reporters acted like they knew you. They knew the details you and Tony had carefully selected that they were allowed to know. They knew what you were planning on majoring in, what your favorite color was, that you went on early morning jogs on the weekends. They didn’t know you, and you weren’t planning on letting them any time soon.

Someone that did know you fairly well was Peter, your boyfriend. He met you in Germany, you weren’t in combat but you were there to help. You’d been on the plane when he got there, moving your feet to give him a place to sit. He’d never been on a plane before, especially after what had happened to his parents. He’d expected to be nervous and anxious the whole time, but you had shared one of your earbuds with him and let him read your book (a textbook on biofouling) which didn’t interest him, but it gave him something to focus on. Not the book, that wasn’t what interested him, he understood nothing, but you did.

Of course, being raised by Tony, you had a penchant for robotics and physics, but environmental science was where your passions rested. You were working with your dad in the lab on making his tech more environmentally sustainable. Tony had homeschooled you until you met Peter, and you could have had at least one PhD by the time you were fifteen, but you’d surprised him. You wanted to go to high school.

You’d already been over all of the material, and your dad had argued about the security risks, and it seemed to be a closed subject until you met your boyfriend. Peter was the same age as you, he went to a science high school, and he was more than capable of protecting you if something went down. So, after swearing Peter to basically be your bodyguard, you were allowed to attend Midtown with him.

The two of you had grown much closer in the time you were there, he was your best friend, your partner in crime and, recently you noted, your first love.

Tony was pissed at first, kicking Peter out of the tower, and taking his suit away, but you calmed him down. You were his only daughter, his little girl and he just wanted you to be happy, and Tony could see that Peter made you happy.

You loved going to school. You got to spend more time with Peter, you met his friends, you and MJ bonding immediately. You sat down next to her at lunch, automatically swapping half of your sandwich for half of her fries. The two of you started talking about a book you’d both read when Peter and Ned sat down. “What are you guys talking about?” Peter kissed your cheek.

“The Art of Human Bondage,” MJ replied simply. Watching as the boys exchanged wary looks.

“What?” Peter asked you.

“The book MJ got me to read?” you said. “The one I haven’t shut up about?” you were trying to jog his memory. When he didn’t remember, you rolled your eyes, not really annoyed. “Damn, Parker. You don’t listen to a single thing I say, do you?”

Ned let out an ‘ooooooh.’ “Do you not know your girlfriend at all?” Peter looked at you, alarmed.

“Wait, no, no,” he rushed out. “I know you so well,” you laughed. You really didn’t care, just wanting to mess with him. “I know that your favorite movie is Spy Kids, and you watch it when you’re sad about things related to your work specifically. General sadness is when you break out The Parent Trap, because you don’t want to taint Spy Kids with sad memories and all the tech helps give you ideas. I know everyone, including your dad, thinks you’re allergic to carrots after you faked an allergy attack with a chemical you engineered when you were only seven years old, but in reality you just hate them, and I know that you’re coming over to my place after school to help me study for my calc quiz,” he looked over at you triumphantly.

“Yes, dear, you know me very well,” you squeezed his hand. “And yes, I will be at your place at four-thirty,”

“Why then?” he asked. “You can do any homework at my place if you want?”

“No, I have cheerleading tryouts this afternoon,”

Ned and Peter went quiet, the only person not surprised was MJ. “You have what?” Ned asked hesitantly, not wanting to upset you.

“Cheer tryouts,” you said, like it was obvious. You’d always wanted to try it, the teamwork aspect drawing you in along with the physical component. If you had something to do after school that was giving you physical activity, it would give you an excuse to skip training. You loved that your dad didn’t treat you like you were made of glass, letting you train with Nat, Steve or Bucky, but Friday training sucked. It was the most intense of the week, and you were exhausted from the week.

“You want to be a cheerleader?” Peter spoke up.

“What?” you scoffed, putting the fry in your hand down. “You think that because I’m smart, I can’t be a cheerleader?” They both took a second too long to answer before you stood up. "I've been training with Nat since I was like ten. Just because I don't go out in combat with the other Avengers doesn't mean it's because I can't,"

It was a stereotype you were a little sick of. You could be smart and pretty, and you had hoped Peter would be a little bit more supportive of you. It hurt a bit, not that you'd admit it. You didn't need his approval to do anything, but you'd be lying if you said you didn't at least want it.

"I think I'm finished with lunch," you said, standing up. Peter looked up at you, alarmed. You were leaving. You wouldn't be leaving if you weren't mad, he'd upset you. He was about to rush out an apology when you spoke up. "Coming, M?"

MJ nodded, leaving her lunch tray on the table. She knew Ned or Peter would dump it, and she was annoyed with them on your behalf.

You both had algebra after lunch, so you figured you could kill some time out by the bleachers, you still had nearly half an hour before your class. You were laying on a seat, head in MJ's lap while she drew something. "Am I overreacting?"

"No," MJ spoke without hesitation. You were her best friend, and she was yours, the only person she would ever allow so close to her, both physically and emotionally. "You're allowed to be upset, but Peter also didn't mean it,"

"I know," you said. "I just feel like everyone sees me as this delicate little flower who can't even do a sit-up," you said. It was true, despite the fact that your dad made sure you were trained by the best from a young age, he still didn't think you were capable of taking care of yourself, shown by the way that he literally made Peter promise to take care of you.

"Well, I know you're badass," she offered. "If Peter doesn't, I'll date you," you smiled up at her.

"I'll have to pass," you said as the bell rang. You groaned as you got up and she smirked.

"I thought you could do a situp," you flipped her off and she showed you her drawing, it was you in a Midtown cheerleading uniform, surrounded by a pile of dead bodies. You giggled. "Some of my best work,"

MJ gave you a friendly punch on the shoulder. "You'll do great this afternoon," you smiled at her, squeezing her arm as the two of you walked to your next class.

You had English last period with Peter and as he sat down you didn’t acknowledge him. “Darling?” he asked quietly. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean-”

“Peter, I know you didn’t mean it like that but it still hurt,” you said quietly. “You know, I have so many people out there thinking they know what I can and can’t do, and I just thought that, considering you know that, you’d be a little more supportive,”

“I know, I know,” he said, earnestly. He really hadn’t meant what happened at lunch and he’d felt awful about it the entire time. “I’m sorry. I never meant to make it seem like you couldn’t do anything. I’m so sorry,”

He took your hand and squeezed it for a moment, but when your teacher walked in, you slipped it out of his grasp, leaving him staring at the spot on the desk your hands had rested for the rest of the lesson.

After school, you went to tryouts and you aced them. Of course, you lived with the Avengers, and they never went easy on you. Your negative feelings towards Peter went away when the coach announced who got on the team, your name being one of the few. You ended up walking to Peter’s apartment rather than calling Happy, still bursting with energy when you got there. “I made the team!” you said as you burst through his bedroom door.

Peter dropped his book, startled, but rushed off his bed to hug you, spinning you around. “I am so so proud of you,” he said, squeezing you. “I knew you could do it,” he pulled away, suddenly scared again. “You know that I always knew that right? I never thought you couldn’t do it, I guess I was just surprised that you wanted to, which I know, is dumb. I guess I don’t know you as well as I thought I did,”

You placed a gentle kiss on his lips, smiling widely, “I know, Pete. I know you knew. And it’s okay. You still know me better than anyone else does,”

You sat down on the bed beside him, Peter pulling you in for another hug. “I really am super happy for you, darling,” he said into your shoulder. “I can’t believe I’m dating a cheerleader,”

“Now I know why you’re dating me,” you joked. “That’s cold, Parker,”

“Well, Stark,” he said, poking you in the sides. “How do I know you’re not just dating me cause I’m Spider-Man?”

“You’re Spider-Man?” you asked, mock surprise filling your voice. “You kept that from me this whole time?”

“I guess you don’t know me at all,” he smiled and kissed you. “I love you,”

“I love you too, Spider-Man,” Peter huffed and went to stand up, but you pulled him back by the sleeves, bringing him into another kiss. “I love you, Peter Parker,”

“Hey,” May appeared in the doorway. “I stopped by that new bakery on my way home, got this really nice looking carrot cake. You guys want any?”

“No, thanks, May,” Peter shook his head. “She’s allergic,”

“Oh,” May looked over at you, surprised. “I didn’t know that,” you could feel Peter’s teasing gaze on you as you answered.

“Not many people do,” you shrugged. “It’s alright, though. I should be getting home,”

Peter walked you to the door, knowing Happy would be there soon to pick you up. “See? I know you better than anyone else,” he said, a smug smile on his face. “You know what else I know?”

“What, Peter?” You asked, a smile sneaking onto your lips.

Peter pressed his lips to yours, wrapping his arms around your waist. Your hands went around his neck as he held you for a moment, before pulling away breathless. “You impress me more and more every day,”

Listen to 'More' by Olivia Rodrigo here!

♡ taglist ♡

@tom-hollands-wife ; @bxnnywriting ; @kenzieriley

♡ sweet taglist ♡

@pvarker ; @peter-parkers-gf ; @mrosales16