#or rather fic snippets

[daffi-990]

Fuck it Friday 🔥

I was tagged in various games over various days and I want to say a big thank you to all who tagged me. Love you all and loved all your snippets! 😘

I’ve had stuff to share this week but it’s pretty much all smut from chapter ten of Rival Firefighters 🚒 and well, I decided to wait until today to really put the fuck in Fuck it Friday … so hope you enjoy!

Prev snippet here

Eddie slowly begins to move, thrusting gently to allow Buck time to acclimate to the sensation of his cock. Buck mewls as he tries to fuck himself onto Eddie’s cock, but the grip Eddie has on his hips is preventing him from getting what he wants.

"Eddie, please," Buck begs, his voice coming out like a sob. “Harder. Fuck me, make me yours."

The words have a possessive snarl rippling through Eddie as he pulls back before thrusting forward hard, his hips slamming into Buck's rounded ass with a force that sends Buck’s body jolting forward as he cries out in pleasure. His inner walls clamp down around Eddie, sending jolts of electricity through them both.

"Fuck, Buck," Eddie growls, his hands gripping Buck's hips harder and holding him steady while he fucks into him like a man possessed. He watches in satisfaction as Buck’s ass jiggles when his hips smack against him again and again. "You feel so fucking good."

Buck moans in response, his hands gripping the sheets tighter, knuckles turning white as his body trembles with every thrust. The smell of sex fills the air, a heavy scent that permeates the room like a heady perfume as their bodies move together, mattress creaking under their weight, adding to the sensual symphony of skin slapping against skin and the soft moans and gasps escaping from Buck’s lips as he thrusts back against Eddie.

Eddie feels stripped raw, like he is nothing but primal alpha male instincts, focused on nothing else aside from fucking and claiming. He trails a hand down Buck’s sweat slick back and up into his hair, grabbing a fist full and tugging Buck’s head back roughly as he continues to fuck into him.

“This what you wanted, baby?”

“Yes!” Buck shouts, his voice hoarse with desire as he arches his back to meet Eddie's thrusts with increasing desperation. “Ah fuck!”

No pressure tagging: @diazsdimples @hippolotamus @spotsandsocks @tizniz @wikiangela @puppyboybuckley @exhuastedpigeon @hoodie-buck @wildlife4life @watchyourbuck @eddiebabygirldiaz @lover-of-mine @loserdiaz @elvensorceress @evanbegins @epicbuddieficrecs @athenagranted @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove @shortsighted-owl @steadfastsaturnsrings @sibylsleaves @thewolvesof1998 @theotherbuckley @monsterrae1 @missmagooglie @mellaithwen @rainbow-nerdss @rewritetheending @jeeyuns @jesuisici33 @devirnis @disasterbuckdiaz @dangerpronebuddie @donationwayne @fiona-fififi @fortheloveofbuddie @giddyupbuck @honestlydarkprincess @homerforsure @nmcggg @captain-hen @bekkachaos @bigfootsmom @princessfbi @weewootruck @wackybuddiemewbs @shitouttabuck @sunshinediaz @spagheddiediaz and as always, anyone who wants to join in -> consider this your official tag!

[tornadeoqueen]

GIVE ME DIALOGUE FOR GROCERY STORE 😖😖😖

Anything for you my dear ❤️

“And so now we’re making pasta?”

“And so now we’re making pasta.”

“… this is going to be the first time they see us together since you moved in.”

“Yeah, so?”

“You don’t think it’s still going to be weird for them?”

——

For those playing at home…. This may or may not be a prequel to all of our love filling all of our room oop

[sillyfairygarden]

working on botb 9 !!! who cheered !!!

[mossterunderthebed]

[patrice-bergerons]

I wrote 1.6k words today and I'm so happy :3

[titaniafey]

A little preview of my wip Ghostflower fic. Though I dont think it counts as ghostflower and leans more to just Gwiles. Specifically Earth!42- Miles and Gwen. I think there should be a separate dynamic for them respectively. Their personalities are kinda reversed. Miles is the one that's more broody and angsty, while Gwen is an adorable sunshine that can roast your ass like the sun. And she's still got that edge to her. Of course 😌

But AGSPSKFLGKGJD Y'ALL TELL ME WHAT YOU THINK?

---------

New York, concrete jungle where dreams are made of

There’s nothing you can’t do.

All right, I am only doing this just this one time. My name is Miles Gonzalo Morales. I used to wonder why my dad didn’t put Davis as my last name on the birth certificate. He told me it’s because he just doesn’t want it to get in the way of making my own name for what he did in the past. Said he and my uncle used to get into some shaaaady business here and there. For all his insistence to erase the past and never look back, I find myself doing things backwards. Because all I be doing right now is get caught up in the past. Trying my damnedest to right it. To give meaning to it.

Fisk still has his sights on being Mayor. His campaign pitch was a load of bull. Everyone knows the villains that run around the city wreaking havoc was in cahoots with him to get the people running as far away from this city as possible. His vision of being a livable safe New York in which he put up in honor of his late wife Vanessa Marianna and son Richard Fisk sounded like an empty promise. If anything, he was hellbent on making an unlivable New York. His grief spreading its reach to drive people away. It tends to do that to a man. In that aspect I can empathize for him.

But what stops me from pitying the fool is that he’s going on driving away families who wish for a new start in the big apple. As well as people who established the roots here since opportunity was promised in the land of the free. Hiking up housing prices. Creating noise and riots on the street.

I could move forward If I wanted to.

If I did move forward me and my mami would’ve been living peacefully in Puerto Rico right now with my maternal grandparents.

If I did move forward, I wouldn’t be sticking out for the city that granted my dad countless opportunities no matter how much he messed up.

If I did move forward, I wouldn’t be giving my dad justice for all the things he has fought for this city. His death would have been in vain.

If I did move forward, no one would’ve stood up to the likes of Fisk.

No one would’ve had the guts to go against him.

And the only one that could do that was someone above the law. Someone who runs under the cloak of the night. Someone who could portray the villain if they needed someone to be angry at. Someone who turned Fisk’s attention away from grabbing every silver lining left in this city to cling on to.

If I did move forward. I wouldn’t be the Prowler.

And if I hadn’t taken up the role of the prowler… I wouldn’t have seen what my dad, my mami, my uncle wanted me to look forward to.

Sunshine breaking through a dark sky. A city burned alight with a new hope. A blue eyed angel flashing me a bright smile.

Just as New York can be greedy, as it takes, and takes, and takes. It also gives, and gives, and gives.

It’s okay to look back in the past. But it’s also important to not get hung up with it that you won’t be able to see the new day in front of you. It’s called New York for a reason ain’t it? Just because one bad thing happened doesn’t mean life stops there.

You wanna know how I got here? Let me take you back to the time when life stopped for me.

[kember-writes]

Monday snippet

Big big thanks to @prongsfish for the tag <3 Here's a few paragraphs from chapter five of Hateful Creatures.

James leaned back in the chair, his head tilted slightly to watch Regulus. “You were mumbling in your sleep," he said. No, no, fuck no, anything but this. “And shaking. Lily told me you’ve been having bad dreams. Is that something… new?”

He made no mention of any incriminating words, and Regulus felt something in his chest loosen slightly. “Yes, ever since I ended up here I’ve been having these terrible dreams where idiots from my childhood won’t leave me alone. Oh, wait.” James’s face turned sour at the statement, but Regulus pushed through. “Lily doesn’t know as much as she likes to think she does. And I’m fine, thank you,” Regulus said, swinging his legs off the bed and standing to prove his point. He barely wobbled. “So you can go now. Please.”

“You know,” said James, also standing, and Regulus realised again how tall he was, “you were actually becoming somewhat bearable these last few days. Like you used to be. But if you’re going to get like this the moment something riles you up, I’ll be happy to lock the door again.”

“Be my guest,” Regulus said with a smile, sweeping his arms towards the door as though to usher James out. “It might keep me safe from your awful friends and their experimental curses.” He sneered as James stormed past him, wrenching the bedroom door open and slamming it shut behind him. After a pause of a few seconds, there was a squelching sound as it sealed.

Regulus kicked it, but it didn’t budge. It vibrated on its hinges as someone on the other side kicked back. He heard stomping in the hallway, footsteps clattering down the stairs, then silence.

Brief background: Regulus is temporarily detained at the Potters' house and they're all being Completely Normal about it. The Situation isn't putting anybody under any sort of Stress. Dumbledore is being Extremely Helpful.

Tags for @wolfpants because I'm always interested to know what you're cooking and @veryinnovative because the workings of your mind both frighten and intrigue me. And an open tag for anyone else who wants to share something :)

[jonathanbiers]

sen’s fic rec!

i was going to write an introduction to this but i couldn't think of anything. i just want to show appreciation for a few fics i absolutely loved which in my opinion, haven't got the recognition they deserve. reblogs are encouraged, that's kind of the whole point of this! go and appreciate a writer you love rn.

Hands in your Heart, and Hearts in your Hallway by @sharpbutsoft

stonathan teen & up 3,220 words Jonathan knows, with an aching certainty, that there’s another version of events, another timeline, Will might have said, where this could go differently. Where the first time he straddles another boy, and is forced to face the fact that he likes it more than any boy should, is a tender moment.

my comments: i fully acknowledge that there might be a bias here, as this fic was gifted to me and i got to see it through the various stages of completion, but it’s really something so special. please give it a read if you miss s1 stonathan as much as i do, it does their characters justice in a way that feels so realistic yet hopeful.

how the light gets in by @fastcardotmp3 (series, still in progress)

wheelingham some parts rated m, some rated e 29,427 words Chrissy looks at Nancy Wheeler every day and she knows that this is the good, this girl is the good, with her offerings of sustenance (no matter how limited) and her promises to come back tomorrow again and again and again, never breaking and never missing. And Chrissy would die twice before she hurt the good. That’s the difference, because Chrissy sees blood on her face and in her hair, sees the knots in it and the lack of washing, and all she wants is to create her own pocket of good here.

my comments: the kas!chrissy au i didn't know i needed until it happened, this series is everything. i'm feral about it in a way i can't articulate here without sullying you guys' good image of me (lmfao as if) or getting very, very tmi

Let’s Get Out of This Country by @walkingsaladshooter

surfcheer (argyle/chrissy) teen & up 2,579 words They drive until they find a field of wildflowers. They pick them and weave them into crowns, place them on each other’s heads. The sun is warm and Chrissy asks him if he’s ever read A Wrinkle in Time and he gasps like he just won the lottery. They lie in the sun until her cheeks burn pink and talk about tesseracts and gentle beasts until she nearly feels hoarse.

my comments: this fic was so soft and i still think about it. it captures the vibe i envision them sharing so well. healing to read fr

What Water Gives, It Takes Away by @bitchsteve (saintmares on ao3)

nancy-centric teen & up 3,224 words It’s a strange feeling, the sinking. It’s almost serene, and nothing at all like she had imagined it would be. Not that she had imagined it all that much. Still, as she descends down further and further toward the very bottom of the pool, slipping into a somewhat suspended sitting position, all she feels is calm as all the peace that she had been searching for since they left the Upside Down finally finds her.

my comments: i'm not getting over this fic any time soon. such a spot-on characterization of nancy and all she's been through. getting to see her start down the path of healing and being surrounded by the people she loves (and who love her) it's just...so good.

[bedlamsbard]

About 200 words written today. I am traveling tomorrow, so I am stressed about that; we also have a blizzard warning, so that's fun, yes it WAS sixty degrees today, I find the Midwest a Trial. also it turns out that I was so disinterested in actually unpacking that I have no idea where ninety percent of my jewelry is, which is. this is fine. (actually, I do know roughly where it is, I just don't want to go searching through it for my earrings. whatever. I also forgot to paint my nails, though I could just bring my nail polish with me and do it at the hotel. yeah, okay, that's painless, I'll do that. if I don't end up painting my nails, whatever, it's fine, it doesn't take up much space.) I did end up buying a new bag and I will report back. (I bought two but one I hate aesthetically even though it's probably better for travel, so it'll go back to Amazon.)

[skyward-floored]

So if I actually put all the hdw au stuff on ao3, should I give in to the urge to edit some of them the first one or leave them as is?

[aza-trash-can]

Googling "how to increase reach of fics"

[yellow-faerie]

Immortality AU

There’s a woman standing at the edge of the cantina. She has a drink in her hand – something the colour of a Felucian flower – and is smiling, softly, as she taps her foot to the beat of the music. Her eyes are a pale blue – so pale that it is noticeable in the dingy lighting and from such a distance – with laugh lines creasing at their edges as she keeps her avid attention focused on the singer.

It would be difficult to tell how old she is, just from looking. She’s almost definitely human, so the wrinkles and her almost-white hair would put her on the older end of the spectrum, but there’s still the soft curve of early adulthood to her.

So late thirties, maybe early forties.

Her name is Meetra Surik and though she does not look it, she is nearly four thousand years old.

None of this does Qui-Gon Jinn tell Padmé, the young handmaiden who had insisted (on the Queen’s demand) to accompany him on this mission, for he had told her they were coming here to see if they could source an alternative form of transport if they couldn’t fix the ship.

And in a way, they were, but Qui-Gon was never sure how Surik and her less agreeable companion worked. There was every chance that they would make vague conversation until Qui-Gon admitted defeat and they had to work out another solution to their problem.

Damn immortals.

“Master Qui-Gon,” Surik greets as he gets close enough to hear her, although she doesn’t take her eyes from the singer, “aren’t you meant to be orbiting Naboo? Negotiations with the Trade Federation, wasn’t it?”

Qui-Gon can feel Padmé’s surprise in the Force, likely that he knew anyone on this Force forsaken rock. “Do you keep tabs on everyone, or is it just me?”

“Can you blame a woman for looking out for her lineage?”

“You know each other?” Padmé asks, intervening. Either it is her diplomatic skills coming out, breaking up a potential argument before it starts, or – and this was much more likely in Qui-Gon’s opinion – she was curious and couldn’t help herself.

“I trained his Master’s Jedi Master,” Surik says pleasantly and finally takes her eyes away from the performer. “Master Meetra Surik, at your service.”

“Padmé Naberrie.”

There’s a flash of amusement in her eyes. “I take it that you have got caught up in whatever went wrong with Master Jinn’s recent mission?”

“I’m the Queen of Naboo’s handmaiden. And it wasn’t Master Jinn’s fault, the Trade Federation didn’t even let the negotiations for our planet begin before they tried to kill him and Padawan Kenobi, and invade our planet.”

Surik’s smile falls into something more serious. “A planetary invasion? That’s a bold move.”

“It is,” Qui-Gon agrees quickly, not feeling quite comfortable to discuss the issue so publicly. “The escape was not kind on our ship, we need a way off planet so that the Queen may speak in the senate.”

At that, Surik’s smile returns in all it’s slightly lopsided glory. “Luckily for you, we have a ship.”

“And what about ours?” Padmé asks. “The one we came in?”

Meetra shrugs. “Do what you want with it: sell it, leave it for scrap, find a way to repair it. Just comm us when you’re ready, we’ll do a pick up.”

The singer has stopped now, to muted applause from the otherwise self-absorbed clientele of the cantina, and stepped down from the stage to get her money from the bartender.

“Then we shall meet you then,” Qui-Gon says quickly and Meetra’s smile grows.

“Are you sure I cannot tempt you to a drink?”

Qui-Gon looks at the singer, returning a few credits for a drink an even brighter colour than Meetra’s, and thinks that now is not a time to talk to Revan.

In fact, it is never a time to talk to Revan, but especially not when Obi-Wan is not there to be a buffer.

“Another time, perhaps,” he says smoothly, putting a hand on Padmé’s back to gently guide her out of the cantina, “we have a ship to sell.”

[tathrin]

A response to this ask; taken from this prompt; anyone can feel free to send other numbers in at any time, I don’t care how long it’s been. (Just maybe add some context to your ask if it’s been like a month or more since I posted this, because otherwise I won’t know what to do with the random number in my inbox).

#28....as a lie.

*technically this one picks up after the end of this story if you want to read that first, although you don’t need to; it’s as much a self-contained snippet as any of the others, it just happens take place in a setting within the events of a specific fic, that’s all.

Gimli’s eyes were drawn ever and again to the elvish dancers, even as he was drawn several times into brief conversations as friends and acquaintances paused at the table he now shared with Gandalf to exchange a few words and toast their well-wishes together for Gondor’s king and queen. Gimli was glad of the toasts, at least, for they brought fresh mugs of cool ale, and the heat of so many cavorting bodies had raised the temperature of the hall to near-dwarven levels, despite the cool white stone and tall windows through which a summer’s breeze still wafted.

Legolas’s hair shone like a sunrise in the rich torchlight, and his eyes gleamed like starlight on pale clouds. Gimli was amazed that anyone could long look elsewhere, with the shine of him whirling there to draw the eye.

He was not amazed that the other elves twirling on the dance floor were drawn to him; of course they were. How could they help but be lured in, dull drab moths circling that golden glow? Long hands ran up and down Legolas’s lithe limbs and pressed against his slender waist, long fingers twined through the streaming locks of his unfettered hair and curled possessively around his braids—

The mug in Gimli’s hands gave a crack and shattered, soft metal collapsing in on itself in his grip. He stared at the mess in his hands, numbly grateful that he had at least drained it already and so there was no ale left to spill out across his lap, and then he hurriedly shoved it onto the table behind him. He could feel his cheeks burning hotter than any torch in the hall.

Gimli chanced a sideways glance at Gandalf, who was watching the dancers with every evidence of placid enjoyment on his old face. Had he seen? Had he heard? He said nothing, but that did not always mean anything with Gandalf. Perhaps Gimli should speak, should craft some excuse...

“Flimsy human metal,” he muttered, and glanced at the wizard again. Gandalf nodded absently, but did not otherwise react.

Gimli let out his breath in relief—and then a second later he nearly choked on it, as Legolas suddenly bounded out of the tumult to perch on the bench beside him. His eyes danced as merrily as any of the revelers and his smile beamed bright and clear upon his beardless face.

“Will you not dance with us, Gimli?” he asked. His voice was light with laughter and with joy and his thin chest heaved from his exertions. Gimli found his eyes drawn upwards to the bare lips above that smooth and hairless chin.

“What?” he said.

“Dance with us, Gimli!” Legolas repeated. “Come, you can teach us dwarven steps and I will show you the ways of elvish revelry up close.”

“No,” Gimli answered automatically, his heart stuttering in his throat. “No, I—I am quite comfortable here, thank you.”

“You do not seem comfortable,” Legolas observed, and Gimli felt his stomach drop like a stone. He could not stop himself from glancing behind him at the ruined mug, even though he knew the gesture was a dead give-away; if Legolas had not seen it before, he surely would now, with Gimli’s gaze to lead him to it like a map—or a swift arrow.

“I am perfectly fine,” Gimli insisted. “Gandalf and I are enjoying the dancing quite well from here, thank you.”

Legolas spared a glance at the unmoving wizard but his eyes soon fixed on Gimli once more. “You are bothered by something,” he said quietly. “I can tell. Will you not tell me what? Perhaps I can help.”

Gimli’s mind stuttered with the possibilities of the help that Legolas might offer, and he quickly shied away from the idea. “No!” he blurted. “No, I—as I said, I am fine. It is merely warm in here.”

Legolas laughed. “Warm!” he cried. “But you are a dwarf!”

“Aye, a dwarf,” said Gimli, “and one who is enjoying his ale from his comfortable seat, and has no need to go whirling about like some flighty elven dandelion!”

Legolas should have laughed; Gimli knew his friend well enough to know that much. He should have laughed, but he did not. Instead his pale eyes narrowed sharp and keen on Gimli’s face, and Gimli could feel himself blushing beneath that tight scrutiny.

“Does it bother you,” Legolas asked in a low voice, “to see me frolicking so with these other elves?”

“What?” Gimli exclaimed. His hands clenched convulsively, and he was glad that he had already broken his mug; had he still been holding it now, he would surely have turned the thing into a flattened disk of over-stressed and useless metal. “Bother me! Of course it does not!”

To prove it, Gimli made himself laugh and shake his head, as though Legolas had spoken some ridiculous jest. He even lifted the elf’s lean brown hand and kissed the smooth knuckles as more evidence of how thoroughly unbothered he was. “Go back to your dancing, Master Elf!” Gimli chortled. “I am doing quite well watching it from afar, thank you!”

Legolas stared at him for another moment, his smooth face unreadable . The tips of his ears were flushed dark red from all of his cavorting and his pale eyed looked very wide with no beard to frame them.

Then he shrugged, and said, “As you like, then!” and squeezed Gimli’s shoulder once before bounding away and throwing himself back into the whirl of the merry elvish dancers.

Gimli let out a shaky breath and flexed his hands a few times, getting the blood-flow back into them.

"Lying will do no good for either of you," Gandalf declared calmly. "And it is hardly fair to Legolas; he will take you at your word, whatever you tell him."

Gimli could feel his cheeks burning hotter, shame coming along to add its kindling to the blaze. He managed to force an unintelligible grumble of disagreement from his lips, but nothing more articulate than that; he felt as though he was already strangling on all the words he would not, could not, say.

"He will," Gandalf insisted. "The elvenking might be able to spot a lie from 300 leagues and skewer it as neatly as his son ever has an enemy with that bow of his, but Thranduil's people are another matter. Lies are not generally told in Mirkwood. It is not a place for dissembling, or oaths, or scheming. The Wood-elves are a simple, honest people. And you are Legolas's friend." Gandalf pulled his eyes away from the dancing and fixed his gaze on Gimli instead. His bushy brows were drawn very low atop them, making his eyes glint like embers in deep shadow. "If you tell him something, he will believe you, Gimli. And you will have none but yourself to blame for the results."

Without waiting for Gimli to muster either the courage or the wits for a response, Gandalf swept to his feet and strode off into the tumult of the party.

Gimli slumped low on his bench and stared miserably at the dancing elves.

Legolas was still so impossibly vibrant and noticeable against the duller backdrop of the others. Gimli's eyes fixed on him at once. He seemed to be moving now with even greater abandon than before, if such a thing were possible.

And if such a thing were not impossible, Gimli would almost have said that Legolas kept glancing back at the table where Gimli sat as well—but he was not, of course, and so Gimli put the thought from his mind.

He had more than enough to think of anyway, when a tall elf of Lórien slid up behind Legolas and snaked her arms across his narrow shoulders, leaning in low to murmur something into his finely-pointed ear.

Legolas laughed and turned to face her, their long lithe arms entwining as close as any dwarven lovers. They swayed and swirled together with the music, and the elf-woman’s hands slid up from Legolas’s shoulders to tangle in his braids. Legolas smiled up at her and said something that Gimli was too far away to hear, but it made her laugh. Then Legolas gave one of her dark braids a gentle tug, and Gimli realized that he was growling low in his throat as though facing down a horde of goblins.

He turned away blindly and reached for his mug, realized that it was both empty and broken, and turned back around just in time to see the elf-woman twirl away into someone else’s arms as another pair of hands took Legolas by his trim waist and plucked him out of the center of the tumult to pull him in close against their long lean body, and—

And it was Haldir, Mahal curse it. Gimli’s mouth went dry, his blood pounding in his ears like drumbeats as the March Warden leaned in close and lowered his mouth to Legolas’s ear, whispering something. He took one of Legolas’s braids in his hand and rubbed his thumb across the heavy golden strands, like a dwarf might test a metal for its quality. Haldir was hardly dancing; only swaying a little as he stared down at Legolas, who stood balanced before him on his toes like a bird paused on the edge of flight.

Gimli was on his feet before he realized it, about to start forward and—and what?

His hand was at his belt, which was empty of course; a wedding was no place for weapons. And why was he reaching for his axe, anyway? He sat back down on the bench with a heavy, hollow thump. What was he thinking? What was he doing?

He had had too much ale, clearly. It was the only explanation for his strange behavior tonight. His throat was dry, but he would not drink anymore tonight; he had drunk too much already, clearly, and it was clouding his thoughts. Making him think strange, impossible things. Making him dream things that—that were not, that could never...!

Legolas laughed and rose up onto his toes to press a light kiss to Haldir’s lips.

His head reeling, Gimli watched as the March Warden took Legolas by the hand and led him, smiling, towards the door. If Gimli thought that Legolas paused on the threshold and looked back, somehow finding Gimli’s eyes across the crowded room and glancing at him hesitatingly, questioningly, even hopefully—well, then that was just another sign that he had reached the night’s limit for ale; reached, and more than passed.

Gimli held himself very still, schooling his expression to a placid calmness that might have rivaled Gandalf’s, and then he forced a smile and a nod—just in case Legolas was really looking; just in case he could really see him.

A shadow seemed to flicker across those bright elvish eyes, as though one of the torches near the door was on the verge of guttering; although when Gimli looked at them, they both appeared to be burning tall and strong still.

When he looked back, there was only a faint fading flicker of golden locks flowing around the corner as Legolas vanished into the night and Haldir’s arms.

Gimli sat there for several minutes, staring into the empty darkness of the door. The noise of the wedding revels that had once filled the hall with such bright merriment seemed to have faded now, somehow; he heard it from a distance, like echoes from some far-off cave. Eventually he forced himself to rise, and murmur unintelligible farewells as he passed his friends, and trudge his way across the long white hall towards the other door.

He stumbled back to the rooms the Fellowship shared, alone.

[cuteniarose]

thoughts on ming-hua x p'li??

Unfairly attractive OTP rare pair that deserve a lot more love than they get, what else can I say?

[microwaving-tesilid-argente]

evidently i need to have at least three works rotating at my head at any one time, bc i just started on zombie apocalypse AU tes/hes

anyway does anyone have suggestions for the setting. the only thing i got going for it right now is that it literally takes the world ending for hestio to go "hey wait maybe i should do something about my feelings". normally i would redact homophobia out of a story altogether, but in the case of tes/hes i think them feeling like they can't realistically get together is an important part of their dynamic. in the canon universe i used the vatican's "sacred sheep can't get married" stance, but for this AU i replaced it with general modern-day homophobia (rip)

it's going to be a modern AU instead of being set in the canon universe, because canon universe tesilid already has enough problems without a zombie apocalypse and i can't deal with all that.

which 1) means that he won't have his stigmata restrictions? which means (gasp) he probably dated at some point?? some people would have asked him out - him being extremely handsome is an important part of his character after all. and with his pushover personality i think he would have gone out with some people and have had some extremely terrible experiences. which tbh is sad bc i do want this AU to be exploring the both of them having their first romantic relationship 🤔 so maybe i'll change that up idk

i think tesilid will still be very stuffy and proper even without the restrictions by having some crazy strict and controlling guardian. plus, tutorial era tesilid did have a very strong moral compass, he is intrinsically motivated to do good and help others.

2) tbh i also want them to be adults in this AU though because lowkey i don't want to deal with writing teenagers lmao, and they're already 20 in canon. we didn't really get to see their teenage years so i don't really know how to write them at that age.

i can't think of what jobs to give them though. all three of them are definitely tied to jobs they kind of hate, although tesilid doesn't outwardly show it and he's a top performer at whatever it is that he's doing. i thought of tying them down to a modern AU version of the vatican, but the only thing i can think of that takes in a bunch of children and milks them of their worth is uh. very criminal and illegal. and i'm not sure that such an unethical organisation would keep its children alive until adulthood. while i'm sure that tesilid could be made an exception, hestio & ephael would probably be too average to be spared.

oh and also ephael isn't in this AU because i don't know what to do with him. he wasn't with them when the zombies hit and they haven't seen hide nor hair of him since. i'm sure he's fine tho! 😀

[hirazuki]

📓give me yer plots

Plots? Plural?? Okay, you get three ♡

I only included ideas that I am not currently/actively working on.

Maedhros + Mairon team up AU: After Luthien and Beren nab the silmaril and scram, Melkor actually does give chase and follows them south towards Doriath, and he cuts through Nan Dungortheb where he is ambushed by Ungoliant's spawn (I think if he was alone, given how physically weak he is at this point in time + just having woken up from Luthien's spell, he'd be easy prey) who take him and his crown with the remaining two silmarils and bear him to the south of the continent where Ungoliant has been waiting to exact revenge and claim/consume the jewels. Mairon comes home after having lost Tol-in-Gaurhoth to find Angband in panic, not being able to find Melkor anywhere. He decides to infiltrate Himring, it being the closest center of elven activity and information that is also open enough to travelers, etc. for a new face to pass unnoticed, to see if he can find out if the enemy has Melkor. Maedhros, having had him as a visitor for 30+ years while hanging off a cliff, recognizes him pretty quickly despite the disguise. They team up and go on a life-changing fieldtrip to the south of Beleriand to retrieve one dark lord (for Mairon) and two silmarils (for Maedhros).

Maeglin in Rivendell AU: Maeglin either is brought back by the Powers to help in the War of the Ring (yes, it's inspired by that one poll a while back XD) or actually somehow survived (I haven't decided which I prefer) and ends up in Rivendell. Not really a cohesive linear plot kind of fic, as much as a series of character interactions/exploration of themes: Maeglin and Elrond, Maeglin and Glorfindel, Maeglin and Eowyn, Maeglin and Frodo, to list a few of my top ones.

Eol makes a stone that outshines the silmarils AU: @melkors-defense-attorney and @mirkwood-hr-department take equal share of the blame credit for this completely wild idea yes it still lives rent free in my head, I have not forgotten about it XD. Basically, Eol is much closer to the dwarves than he is to his own kin, and would probably be more comfortable going to them for courtship advice re: Aredhel. Hence, presenting her with the shiniest rock as a gift early on in her stay at Nan Elmoth. Problem is, she has seen the silmarils, so it would have to be an extra shiny rock. He accidentally makes a stone that outdoes the silmarils; cascading world-wide consequences follow XD (These include: angry Feanorians; angry Melkor, at not having the Shiniest Thing™ and seeking Eol out in his forest a la Evil Queen style, to trade his two silmarils for this one; Eol (in this timeline, never having been to Angband) being so isolated he literally doesn't recognize Melkor and slamming the door in Melkor's face ("no solicitors!!"); angrier Melkor (that's two door-slamming elves now); angrier Feanorians (that Melkor would seek to trade the silmarils with Eol of all people); one very swoony Aredhel at the balls of this elf throwing the Dark Lord out on his ass.)