Writers/Artists, I'd like to see you get more creative with Rumi's long ass dragon braid. Be it in action scenes or sexual, etc. it can be used as an advantage or a disadvantage for Rumi.
Enemies uses it against her mid fight/spar. Twist, pull, tie.
Rumi uses it against her enemies as a whip, trip, choke.
Choke, yank, tie in sexual scenarios.
Loved ones can playfully pull Rumi in closer by it.
Rumi spins around too fast and the braid smacks a bystander.
Rumi/others accidentally steps, kneels, sits on the braid.
Rumi uses her braid like rope to help a fallen person back up.
Hooded Rumi absolutely looks silly. Film flattens the shape down.
These are some of the ideas that comes to mind. Honestly, it is in big thanks to WWE's Bianca Belair for showing all the creative ways it can be used for and against her. Her using it as a weapon definitely can leave its mark on you. Also the sound of it meeting skin!
I hope this helps inspire some fresh ideas for your Rumi scenes. Have fun with it! ✌️
Currently at work on my mini bang entry for the EraserMight After Hours discord event. It’s, ah… gotten out of hand and is more a big bang fic than a mini bang fic. 😅 But the artist paired with me is absolutely amazing and I’m loving so much what has been made to go with the fic so far. 🥰 Please look out for that sometime in August!
MASSIVE SPOILERS FOR SPIDER-MAN: NO WAY HOME BELOW.
Warnings: Mass angst, swearing and mentions of death.
MJ remembers everything. She remembers him.
Word Count - 4k+
peter, alone
Peter wasn’t used to the quiet. He wasn’t used to being able to hear his own thoughts, too used to hearing May overcook something in the kitchen; Ned ask him another question about his spider origins; MJ spout another perfectly timed sarcastic comment.
The last three years had been a whirlwind for the kid. From fighting alongside the Avengers, taking down Vulture, blipping for five years and coming back to the only constant man in his life dying in front of his eyes— he was tired. He hated to admit that, but gods, he was exhausted.
Seeing himself from other universes had been fruitful. Erasing himself from his world had been the icing on top of a very large, ominous, fucking angry, cake.
The one thing that Peter clung onto though, despite all else, was that he’d eventually done the right thing. He’d done the right thing for May, he’d done the right thing for MJ and Ned, he’d done the right thing for this universe.
But that didn’t stop him being lonely.
It didn’t stop him pretending to speak to May in the kitchen of his one bed apartment, just so he could act like things were normal for once.
It didn’t stop him going by the donut place that MJ worked at, just to see her again for two minutes and endure the crushing weight of knowing that he loved her, but he couldn’t say it to her anymore.
That’s what lead him there again, during Ned and MJ’s spring break from MIT.
He had a ritual that he always performed without fail, on his way to the donut place. He relived those final moments with Ned and MJ, hugging them, crying with them, kissing MJ goodbye and hearing those three words trickle from her lips.
It always gave him the confidence to go back, even though they’d never remember what it felt like to be there with him.
The bell at the top of the door rung as Peter stepped inside, immediately finding Ned sat one of the farthest tables. It was the first day of spring break—he’d guessed they’d both be back for it, knowing they weren’t exactly party animals. He’d been right.
Ned scrolled through his phone aimlessly, an untouched glazed donut sat before him.
“Hey, MJ,” he yelled slightly, still not looking up from his phone. “Did you get your scores for the mid-term yet?”
“No,” MJ replied, rounding the doorframe from the back of the shop.
Peter’s heart stopped in that instant, the same way it always did when she was near; his MJ.
“I had dinner with the Dean last week,” she explained. “I think she said they’d be released around the 20th,” MJ still hadn’t noticed Peter by the door.
“Cool, thanks,” Ned replied, going back to scrolling through whatever subreddit he was obsessed with that day.
MJ stayed by Ned’s side for a while, flicking her eyes around the cream-coloured walls of her workplace, until they finally made their way towards Peter. When her hazel gaze hit his, his gut coiled.
Awkwardly, he smiled wide. His eyes lit up tenfold, his teeth gleaming with his grin. He raised his hand in greeting. “H-hello,”
MJ smiled awkwardly back, but Peter would have done anything to be able to photograph that look. He wanted to carry her around in his pocket for the rest of his life. “Hi,” MJ responded, chuckling slightly on her words to fill the silence. She made her way towards the cashier desk.
“Back from college?” he asked, knowing that he was enough of a regular for them to know why he asked such things. MJ stopped at the counter.
“Yeah, yeah. Got back yesterday,” she replied.
“Spring break?” Peter questioned.
“Yeah, spring break,”
This was the extent of their conversations now, but Peter savoured every moment. He savoured the look on her face and the simple feeling of being in the same vicinity as both of them. Four months without them knowing him felt like a lifetime.
“Uh, do you want the usual?” MJ asked, shooting a small smile at Peter. Peter let out a breath.
“My usual?”
“Small black coffee and a random donut,” MJ said confidently. The countless times Peter had stopped by, sometimes almost daily, he’d still never expected MJ to remember what he ordered, especially not after her time in Boston for college.
It made his heart swell.
“You remembered?” he let out timidly. MJ shuffled on her feet.
“Well, yeah. It’s easy to remember someone who introduced themselves with their full name the first time they came here,” she chuckled out. “Peter Parker,” she added, and Peter had to swallow down his happiness.
She didn’t realise what this meant to him. She never would.
“The usual sounds great,” Peter said softly. MJ tapped the counter with her knuckles once.
“Coming right up,” she announced.
Peter’s feet shuffled with subtle excitement as MJ strolled around and prepared his order. It wasn’t that the coffee was amazing, or the donuts were an experience, it was because she made them for him. It was because, as he waited, he was in the same room with them both again, just like old times.
MJ grabbed a piece of wax paper and went to pick up a donut, but her hand slipped. The donut fell to the floor, the jelly inside oozing out onto the floor. “Oh, shit,” she muttered to herself, before looking back up to Peter.
That was the face. She was embarrassed. Her cheeks were slightly pink, her smile awkward once more, her brows furrowed. Peter let out a small chuckle. MJ dropped back down to the floor and started clearing up.
Peter leaned against the counter, hit by a memory. “My Aunt, she tried making donuts once,” he started, MJ peered up at him from the floor, indicating she was listening. “She wasn’t a good cook in any capacity, but when she fried that first donut and it didn’t fall apart, she was so happy,”
MJ let out a laugh as she stood, dropping the soiled donut into a trash bag and getting a new piece of wax paper.
“That was before she put the jelly inside, though. They exploded in her hands whenever she tried to,” Peter chuckled to himself, letting himself think of her in this moment. He missed her gentle nature and her loving personality.
He visited her grave often, bumping into Happy a lot there. Not that he knew who Peter was, anymore. But that was okay. He’d done what he had to do.
MJ gently placed a red and blue iced donut on the counter before him. A small spider-shaped decoration was glued down in the middle with glaze. “One Spider-Man limited edition donut for Peter Parker,” MJ said happily, before strolling round to the coffee machine.
She placed a lid on his coffee cup, picking up a folded newspaper before heading back to the cashier desk. “You know, I thought I recognised the name,” she said, slamming the coffee and today’s copy of The Daily Bugle down on the counter.
On the front page was a headline: Spider-Man still yet to reveal himself. Beneath it was a photo of the web-slinger, captioned with— “Photographed by Peter Parker,” MJ read out slowly, prompting Peter’s face to grow into a smirk.
“That could be any Peter Parker,” he said, but it was obvious he was joking. MJ sent him a knowing look.
“Mhm,” she hummed in response, perking a brow at him. Peter took a few seconds to indulge in that look, a look he knew so well; when MJ was intentionally acting like a smart ass; before he stood up straight and got out his wallet. He dropped a ten-dollar bill on the counter and grabbed his things.
“Keep the change,” he said, almost sadly. He always got like this whenever he had to leave. His time with his best friends was fleeting, but he enjoyed it while it lasted. He knew it would never be the same as before, not without Ned and MJ knowing who Peter truly was, but this was enough.
This was okay.
Even when it didn’t feel like it was.
Peter turned to leave, but MJ had other ideas.
“Ned,” she exclaimed. “This guy knows Spider-Man,” Ned dropped his phone immediately, swivelling in his chair until his wide eyes met Peter’s.
Peter sent a look at MJ, one that could only mean a sarcastic thanks a lot. He was faking the sarcasm, though.
“You know the Spider-Man?” Ned asked, his eyes shining with other burning questions Peter knew he wanted to ask immediately.
“Yeah, I know him,” Peter admitted. It wasn’t technically a lie.
“He takes pictures of Spider-Man,” MJ kept adding fuel to the fire. Ned almost fell off his chair.
“You take pictures of the Spider-Man?” Ned asked, regaining his balance and slowly stepping towards Peter by the door. In his peripheral, Peter could see MJ’s smug expression.
“Yeah, I take pictures of him,” Peter let out again, trying to sound annoyed, but his smile cut through the air thick and fast. MJ was holding in laughter. It was a sight to behold. “I’m actually going to meet him right now,” Peter added.
Ned almost fainted. He had to grip onto one of the café tables.
“Oh my god,” he let out in a whisper. “Can you—can you tell him I’m his biggest fan?”
That hit Peter in the heart. Despite Ned not knowing him, the fact that Ned loved Spider-Man made Peter feel known. That was something to hold on to. Ned still knew who he was, even if he didn’t.
“Sure,” Peter said, gulping down nerves. “What’s your name?”
Ned bound towards Peter and grabbed his free hand suddenly. He started shaking it up and down rapidly. Peter let him hold on for as long as he wanted to. “Ned Leeds, Sir. I’m Ned Leeds,”
“Ned, got it,” Peter said, laughing fondly as Ned pulled his hand away and backed up.
“Thank you, Sir,” Ned said quickly, nodding at Peter happily. There was a moment of silence then, and Peter knew exactly how to fill it, even if his nerves were starting to eat him alive.
“And you are?” Peter turned back to MJ. Her once joking face had now softened into something more serious, more meaningful. She hadn’t been expecting the question.
“Michelle—uh, MJ. MJ,” she said, trying to find the right words. Peter couldn’t help it then, when he looked her up and down with gentle eyes. He wanted to hug her, to feel her, to be with her like before in this moment—
But for now, her name was enough.
“Nice to properly meet you,” he said, fighting against his throat that wanted to close.
We have met. We’ve met before, MJ. You loved me once. I love you still.
MJ’s face slowly dropped, as if someone had delivered her terrible news. “Yeah,” she finally let out. “You too,” her voice trailed off, and Peter took that as his cue to leave.
The bell on the door sounded as it slammed shut behind him and he made his way down the sidewalk, soaking up the interaction he’d just had.
MJ’s heart was in her throat. Her gut was in her stomach. Butterflies were eating their way through her lungs. And she didn’t know why.
Her throat began to close then, and her eyes began to water. As if by magic, some strange sensation had come over her—she felt sad. Really, really fucking sad. But she didn’t know why.
It was as if someone had taken the wheel on her mind, firing neurons towards the emotion receptors in her brain and forcing her to feel this kind of sadness and solemness that she hadn’t felt in months; maybe even years.
Ned approached the counter. “MJ?” he asked, reaching out to grab her bicep gently. As he did, MJ quickly turned to him. “Are you okay?” he asked, soaking up her sullen gaze.
“Yeah, I’m...” she said, but she couldn’t find the words.
“You’re crying, MJ,” Ned said softly.
MJ raised her fingers to her cheeks, and low and behold there were tears. They cascaded down her face elegantly, despite their abruptness and confusion.
“I’m sad,” she whispered. Ned leaned closer to her for support. “I’m really fucking sad,” she let out again.
“Why?” Ned asked gently.
“I don’t know,” she let out desperately. Ned made his way around the counter, concerned. MJ let him hug her, she let him wrap her in his arms and offer hands on support that she, secretly, really enjoyed and often times needed.
MJ had spent a lot of her life alone, and though she could hardly remember how her and Ned had even come to be friends, he’d always been there for her for as long as she could remember.
It was like, one day she woke up and just knew him. One day she woke up and they were two best friends. It had just happened.
“Was it because of that Peter guy?” Ned asked, pulling away from her. MJ rubbed her eyes, shaking her head.
“No, no,” she croaked out, taking her hands away from her face. Her gaze found its way to the copy of The Daily Bugle then, falling upon the photograph of Spider-Man. “Pass me that newspaper, Ned,” MJ said, and Ned obliged, even if he was just a tad confused.
MJ held the paper close to her face, analysing the photo of Spider-Man until all she could see were small black and white and grey spots of the newspaper ink.
There was something there, she knew it. An itch that needed to be scratched. Her body that sensed something was wrong, versus her brain that was unresponsive. Why was that? How was that possible?
She’d cried real tears without realising. She’d felt an inconsolable sadness consume every portion of her body and soul and not known why.
Spider-Man. It’s definitely to do with Spider-Man.
“Spider-Man,” MJ whispered to herself.
Him. It’s definitely to do with him.
“Peter Parker,” she whispered again.
These were pieces in some elaborate puzzle that she hadn’t realised she needed to put together. They were corner pieces, the most important, the key to the rest of the puzzle being completed, but she didn’t have any of the other pieces. They were all blank, all wrong.
It was like a missing space had just opened up in her brain, one that she hadn’t realised had been there the entire time. This void was dark and encompassing, eating up memories from her past that she could no longer recall or remember.
Do I... know Peter Parker?
“Ned,” MJ said suddenly. “Does that Peter Parker guy seem familiar to you?”
Ned jumped up onto the counter, sitting down. “Familiar how?”
“Like we’ve already met him,” MJ said, rifling through her mind to try and find something—anything.
“We have already met him. He comes in here all the time, right?” Ned said, missing the point.
“No, no, like before this. Like we’ve known him for years before now,” MJ said, ignoring the fact that she sounded crazy. Ned’s expression was a mixture of confusion and concern, but still he listened. “Did he go to Midtown with us?”
“What?” Ned said, laughing in disbelief. “MJ—,”
“No,” MJ cut him off. “He did, he did go to Midtown,”
MJ could see it then, in flashes. A younger Peter, the Midtown halls, his stupidly big backpack and his locker and him. She could see him.
“And he said he had an Aunt,” MJ let out quickly. The words tumbled from her mouth as soon as her brain put two and two together. “Peter Parker and May Parker— Aunt May,”
Ned’s face dropped suddenly, as the cogs in his brain moved. “My mom went to a funeral for someone called May Parker at Christmas time last year,” he said slowly. “She was nice, she was kind. She... sort of looked a bit like that guy. Brown hair, same eyes—,”
“Because they are related,” MJ confirmed. “I remember her as well, from somewhere. I remember her. I don’t know how we know her, but we do,”
“So, you’re saying it has something to do with him?” Ned said, jumping off the counter and starting to pace the café tables.
“How is it possible that we’d know his Aunt and not know him? He went to our school, he—,” MJ stopped suddenly, as a lightbulb lit up in her mind. “He was on the fucking Academic Decathlon team,”
Ned winced suddenly, until his eyes widened again. “Yes... he was,” he agreed. “He—he came to Washington with us—,”
“He did!” MJ yelled in agreement. “He was there the entire time—,”
“He saw Spider-Man save us at the Washington Monument,” Ned added.
They worked together to fit the pieces together, each memory creating another piece of the elaborate puzzle that they’d been deprived off for over four months now. But the one question that neither of them could seem to answer—
How could we forget someone like Peter Parker?
Ned had to leave, and MJ had to close up the shop.
They’d got as far as the trip to Europe with Midtown, filling in the gaps to finally include Peter Parker within them more. MJ remembered talking to him, remembered being friends with him, but she still harboured that sad feeling in her chest.
It’s like something inside of her was hurting. Hurting so badly, holding onto some kind of pain of which she couldn’t distinguish the meaning.
She’d seen that same pain inside Ned, as they’d started fitting things into place. It was on the tip of both of their tongues; his face, his name, his relationship to both of them, but it was also so far out of reach that MJ felt insane the more she tried to understand it.
When MJ got home that night, she stared at her ceiling.
Peter did the same in his apartment.
They dreamt of each other, though Peter’s dreams were always more vivid. He still remembered what she tasted like, what she felt like, how she made him feel. He dreamt of her most nights, so waking up in the morning with dried tears upon his pillow was nothing out of the ordinary.
For MJ, it was different.
She dreamt of him in a way you’d dream about a stranger. You see their face, but you don’t know why it’s in your subconscious. Her and Peter walked around New York City together, until all of a sudden, they were flying. They swung through the vast avenues of the city, and when MJ looked into windows to see her reflection, she saw that he was carrying her.
He was making her fly.
A Queens apartment, red and blue and black suits, mechanical arms, a green glider, the buzz of electricity, the Statue of Liberty. Everything flashed behind her eyelids as she tried desperately to navigate this land, this world, and put everything together in her mind.
“Who are you?” she asked him, his back turned to her. Peter turned then, wearing a damaged suit with specks of gold laced within. He bled from his nose, his eyebrow. His cheek was already bruising.
“I’m Spider-Man,” Peter said, stepping closer to her. He smiled at her fondly. “I’m yours,”
MJ began crying again, not able to stop her tears. “I don’t understand,”
“I love you, MJ,” Peter said finally.
When MJ woke, she remembered.
She remembered everything. She remembered why she’d forgotten Peter Parker. She remembered how much she loved him so.
She remembered the feeling of his lips on hers as she ascended the lift to the main office at The Daily Bugle. It was the first place she thought of looking, knowing that after May’s death and everyone forgetting, Peter would have moved elsewhere.
There was some comedy to her coming here, too. At this moment in time, she was the only person on this earth who knew that Peter Parker was Spider-Man. Her boy was taking selfies and getting paid for it; it was brilliant.
“Excuse me,” she asked the receptionist. “I’m here to see Peter Parker,” as soon as she said his name, a boom came from the office behind her.
“Peter Parker isn’t due in today, sweetheart!” the unmistakable voice of J. Jonah Jameson hit her, as he sat at his desk with the door ajar. Her blood soured at his words. This was the man that had ruined Peter’s life in the beginning.
She bit down her tongue, avoiding yelling at him through the door, and kept her cool. “When will he be in next?” she asked to the door.
“I don’t fucking know! Ask him yourself,”
MJ left before she could roundhouse kick that man through the window.
She avoided breaking down on the sidewalk outside, despite the feeling of utter helplessness that washed over her. She went back to college in five days. She couldn’t guarantee that he’d come into the café before she left. She was running out of options.
Peter Parker technically didn’t exist, apart from through his freelance work with The Bugle. Everything else—the phone book, Facebook, Twitter, whatever else— he was wiped clean from.
MJ clamped her eyes shut, trying to compose herself as she headed to the edge of the sidewalk. That’s when she remembered Strange. Stephen Strange. He’d cast the spell, maybe he could uncast it for her, for Ned, for Happy and for himself?
Maybe.
It was the only thing she could think of, right now.
Quickly, MJ went to cross the street without even stopping to look. She hardly registered the beep of the taxicab before the driver was trying to swerve out of her way, but anyone could see that she was about to get hit—
When Peter swooped down to grab MJ, he realised he’d been following her most of the morning.
She wrapped her arms and legs around him quickly, pushing her face into his shoulder as he swung her to safety. He’d just saved her life, and he would happily do it for the rest of his life. It was MJ; his MJ.
Even if she couldn’t remember.
MJ didn’t stir once, not looking up from his shoulder or loosening her grip. Peter didn’t know why, but it felt like she was intentionally squeezing harder. When they landed on a quiet backstreet, MJ was reluctant to let go, but she still did.
“Are you alright, ma’am?” Peter asked, for once not afraid about her putting two and two together and guessing his identity.
MJ didn’t reply. Her eyes danced around his mask, all the way down the new blue florescent fabric of his suit and back up to his lenses. Peter swallowed nervously, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder.
“Ma’am?” he urged once more, and in response—
A laugh. MJ laughed.
It was loud and full of shock, but the happiness on her face was undeniable. Tears began to well in her eyes, but nothing could have taken the smile from her beautiful face.
“Peter,” MJ croaked out finally. Peter took an abrupt step back, his heart catapulting to the very bottom of his stomach. “I remember,”
“You—what—?” Peter let out, choking on his words.
MJ reached out for him as her tears overflowed. “I remember you, Peter. I remember everything,”
Peter tugged off his mask, his hair ruffling in every direction. His eyes welled. “You do?” he took her hands in his own, pulling her towards him into an embrace that was four months overdue.
“I do,” MJ said, shaking beneath him like a leaf. They held each other like nothing else in the world mattered. They held each other like they belonged to each other, because they did. They did.
“How?” Peter croaked.
“I told you,” MJ began, pulling out of the hug. “I guessed you were Spider-Man once; I just did it again,”
Peter laid his fingers against her cheek, wiping away her tears. “I love you,” he let out. MJ let out a wracking sob.
“I love you, too,” she replied. “Nothing could make me forget that,”
Peter didn’t hesitate when he leant in, and MJ fit perfectly alongside him. Their lips flushed together with a fervour that had been waiting months. It wasn’t until now that MJ truly realised how much she’d missed him—her Peter. But Peter knew what it felt like.
He knew the pain of every awkward and one-sided conversation with her. He knew the fear of not wanting to creep her out. He knew how it felt to be on the outside looking in.
No longer.
Not now that she was in his grasp again. He wouldn’t let her go this time. Never.
Peter may me unknown to everyone else in this world, but now that MJ knew him again, he knew that everything would be okay. They’d be okay. They were unbreakable.
They no longer had to dream of one another to get by.
-----------
Ned couldn’t sleep. He blamed it on his mid-term scores and the nerves he felt for his grades, but innately he knew that wasn’t the truth. After MJ’s freak out at the café a few days prior, both of them were shaken up.
This Peter Parker. They knew him. And somehow, they’d forgot.
“Mom,” Ned said timidly, strolling down the stairs. His mother sat at the dining table, slowly but surely putting together a puzzle of the Statue of Liberty. The old Statue, not the new one.
That had, for some reason, been delayed in being finished for up to two years.
“Tell me about May Parker,” Ned said, and his mother’s face immediately softened. She wasn’t an overly gentle woman, but at certain moments she’d show this face—one of warmth, one of sadness. It was clear that she missed May.
“May was warm. She was caring. She brought up a child that wasn’t hers,” Ned’s mother explained, her Filipino accent shining through, as Ned sat in the chair next to her.
“A child that wasn’t hers?”
Ned’s mother furrowed her brows in confusion, as if she was trying to remember something important. “I don’t know what happened to him. Can’t remember. But she raised him,”
May Parker and Peter Parker.
Ned Leeds rarely ran, but this time he did. He ran as soon as he got off the subway. He ran until he was sure his legs would stop working. He ran until he bombarded through the door at MJ’s workplace, the bell dinging violently above him.
“MJ!” Ned yelled. The café was empty, as always, besides a uniformed MJ behind the counter. MJ rushed to the cashier desk, her expression dropping into seriousness. Ned was already on the brink of tears. “I remember him,” he spluttered. “I remember everything,” his eyes slowly began to overflow.
MJ rushed around the counter, wrapping Ned in her arms. They cried together, they remembered together. “I do, too,” MJ admitted. “I found Peter yesterday,” Ned quickly pulled away from her, his face blotchy with tears.
“Where is he? I need to—,”
“Ned,” Peter said, emerging from the bathroom and shutting the door behind him. He stood on the other side of the café, eyes glassy, gaze stuck on Ned’s face. Ned let out a sob, and the two of them floated towards each other as if it hadn’t been four months overdue.
Peter encased Ned in a hug. Neither wanted to let go, neither wanted to forget anymore.
Inside, Peter was still deathly afraid that their memories would somehow backtrack. One day, after they’d been in Boston for a while, studying, living, they might wake up and just not know him again. He was terrified. He was petrified.
But finally seeing his best friend again, properly this time, no beating around the bush or pretending he didn’t know him like the back of his hand—this was needed.
Peter and Ned. Batman and Robin. Spider-Man and his guy in the chair.
“I’m sorry we forgot,” Ned let out. Peter chuckled sadly.
“You had no choice,” he croaked, squeezing his best friend affectionately.
Peter’s gaze trickled over to MJ then, as tears slowly began crawling down her face. Peter stuck his hand out to her gently, and she rushed over to her boys.
The three of them embraced until their fear dissipated. They hugged until they were sure they’d never forget again.
And once again, the only question on their minds, after this whirlwind of realisation—
How could we ever forget someone like Peter Parker?
I'm no longer questioning it but I am curious to hear what others think.
I'm in the middle of writing an oneshot and I have Zoey making a reference to Britney Spears' chair dance choreography. I had wondered if that would be too old of a callback for Zoey?
I figured out of all of them, it'd be her to make the reference. I just gotta figure out a better fitting line. My wittiness is lacking for Zoey. 🤔
Anyways, I have a need to see a Britney Spesrs themed Huntr/x. Imagine them in some of her iconic outfits?
I'm annoyed that I can't find the one girl on girl lapdance vid that I saw to get a screenshot of what prompted this whole fic idea in the first place. The girl was flushing like crazy and hid her face behind her hands while the other girl was bent over grounding her ass into her crotch. It was a perfect visual/reaction for Rumi getting a lapdance from Mira.
For Zoey, the face I'm visualing is her watching with captivated 👀 with her whole index finger clenched between her teeth doing a poor job hiding how much she's enjoying the show.
Throwing it out there in case any artists ever feel inclined to draw these reactions. Hopefully I can get this oneshot done this month.
What are your favorites hurt/comfort Seblaine fictions ?
Whoa, anon dear. *cracks knuckles* I love these questions. Get ready:
the wordless place by @boldmistakes
on the fourteenth floor by @zaynxlv
Second Time Around by @sophisticatedloserchick
Heaven Knows It’s High Time by @sleeping-in-quicksand
The following fics by @thescarletspeedstress:1. Stonehaven2. To Whom I Belong
The following fics by @blainesebastian1. The Guy in 6B2. crazy jealous guy
The following fics by @ttinycourageous1. Wake Me Up When It’s All Over2. And Seal It With A Kiss3. & In The Night We’ll Wish This Never Ends4. Never Can Tell What Lies Ahead(and these classics by author)5. The Things We Carry With Us6. What a Prince and Lover Ought to Be7. More Than A Trick of Light ‘verse
And I will always rec these classics:1. Not Words ‘verse by @purplehairedwonder2. Despite All of This by facethefall3. A Caution to the Birds by xsaturated
There are so many great fics/stories out there for so many tropes but these are some of my faves for hurt/comfort.
Also, if you’re looking for full-blown angst, please refer to the gorgeous writings of @wherenothingisforkeeps and @anderred
Hope you enjoy these fics as much as I did/do (and forever will). If/when you do read them, please don’t forget to like/kudo/comment and feel free to leave essay-long reviews/thoughts. Writers live off such stuff. :))
