#anyway i'm done posting drafts for tonight

[digisurvive]

Another small scenario that was dusting in my drive, this time about Ryo and Aoi learning to get along lol

[byanyan]

ㅤskin sparkling with a body glitter, shimmer eyeshadow, and glitter lip gloss, hair adorned with a number of cute clips, each coated in their own layer of glitter, byan is positively twinkling in the sunlight. —and yet... there's something almost unnerving about it when their knuckles are glistening with a bright crimson that runs along their fingers, dripping down to land on the concrete next to the vibrant pink heels of their boots.

[blackbutler-readerinsertsandjunk]

I haven't done anything tonight yet bc I rediscovered Guitar Hero (damn I feel old XD)

but good news is I've only got 16 things left to do! by tomorrow, I should have more things in the queue than are left to be done, which is always a good feeling

I still have a little ways to go but DAMN I should have the askbox open in about a week! I'm so freaking excited <3

[histoires-en-bouteille]

I can't sleep.

I think something is about to happen. Something really wrong. I can't explain it to myself, but I just know it. Deep in my guts, I know it.

I feel like every step we take brings us closer to the end, somehow.

We're about a day away from Alcura. We've mostly met passive creatures, the kind that run away when they see you. Sometimes they stare, long enough to give you the creeps.

There's always one that stares for too long. One that makes you feel like you're their prey, their object of curiosity. You never know how they think, you just know they stare. You see their eyes, so big, so dead, and you could swear there's something behind those fucking eyes.

Ava doesn't say anything. Me neither. We haven't talked in...I think we haven't talked in a week, at least. Sometimes shit go wild between us.

It's back. Staring again. Fuck, that thing is seriously creeping the fuck out of me. Ava is sleeping. Usually she would stare back until it would leave.

I can't do that. I'm not superstitious, I know Ava always says I am, I'm not, but you know what they say about those who stare back? They always get snapped from the sides. So busy looking straight into the dead eyes in front of them, they get too caught up in the moment and forget to watch their sides. That's how Big Grum got torn to shred.

I'll keep a side-eye on that thing. I feel like it's been following us, but I'm not sure. But it's been days and I can't sleep. I can't fucking sleep because whenever I close my eyes I feel my heart...I fucking feel that... that presence.

Mami used to tell us that if we feel a presence, we must keep our eyes open, because if we close our eyes, they'll be right there when we open them again.

Right here, in front of us, staring and grinning.

I should really shut up. Writing these things only makes me feel worse. There's no way I'll be sleeping tonight. No fucking way.

I just hope we can reach Alcura tomorrow. I don't feel like being outside with Dead Eyes any longer.

_

Extract from Todd's Journal. - Dead Eyes.

_

Notes from transcriber:

The extract was entitled "Dead Eyes" as a reference to the nickname given to the creature observed by Todd and Ava on their first trip to Alcura. The emphasis on the eyes of the creature became the focus of scholars curiosity, as well as an object of controversies. Dead Eyes has indeed been suspected of being █ █████████ ███████████ ████ ████ ██ ████████ █████ ██ █████████ ████ ███ ███'█ ██████████. (What's Behind The Eyes?, 150-163) ███████████ ████ ██████ ████ ██████ ██████ ██ ██████ ███ ██████, ███ ███ ██ ███ ████ ████ ██ ███ ████████ ██████████. (Archives of Security Register)

Dead Eyes became a recurring image in Todd's journal, and could be found from page 25 to 53, a section of the journal which corresponded to their second trip to Alcura. It also marked the disappearance of Dead Eyes's physical presence - though one can argue that Dead Eyes remained omnipresent in Todd's retelling of their travels, as defended by Elina Baker in Dead Eyes: The Haunting of A Presence (Baker, 23)

Todd often wrote about local beliefs and superstitions, as well as myths and stories he (and Ava) grew up with. The story of Big Grum - accessible on the online version of ARKives (ARKives, Formative Tales) - is what scholars commonly define as a "formative tale" for children, providing them with "life lessons and warnings related to the real life conditions and habits of [their] natal village[s]". (Dictiocon Online)

Todd briefly mentioned an altercation between Ava and himself. He gave no details whatsoever on the matter, but did say that "Sometimes shit go wild between [them]," proving the reccuring arguments they would have while travelling. In another extract entitled Home, Todd wrote about a violent altercation which led both parties to not talk to each other for more than three weeks. He also confided in his journal of this fight being "the worst [they] ever had" and explained how "miserable" it made him feel. (Home, 84)

_

@chaoticvampirejedi @m-o-o-n-s-g-o-o-n-s

[alo-officialgf]

the drafts are drafting 🫨

[jackfrombaskinrobbins]

all fixed up (matt murdock x teen!adopted!reader)

type of writing: headcanons / scenario

word count: 967

request: yes / no

original request: "Matt Murdock patches up a teen reader, and there's just a lot of angst and hurt/comfort. PLEASE LET IT HAVE A HUG AND FOREHEAD KISSES :)) (I'm a sucker for fluff)"

warnings: slight mention of wounds, blood, not too much though i promise!!

dynamic: matt murdock x teen!adopted!reader

characters: reader, matt murdock, quick mention of foggy nelson & wilson fisk

a/n: ILYT!!! also erm hey guys🤓i've been gone for way too long i'm sorry :') but i've had this in my drafts for a whiiiiiiile so i figured it was time to post :0 anyways ya feel free to request i have a bunch to get to but i always like new ones!! esp daredevil oop tee hee

taglist: @nutellani @thecloudedmind @ayohitmanddaeng @fiadh-bell

(fill out this form to be on my taglist!)

-----------------------✰--------------------

“stop it, y/n. just come here for a minute, alright?”

normally matt’s words would be answered with an exaggerated sigh and an eye roll, but tonight was different. tonight was off, and you knew it, he knew it, and he knew that you knew that he knew it. (ridiculous, but true.) it didn’t help that you had wounds to patch up, sore spots all over your body that wouldn’t be going away any time soon – a constant reminder of your mistake.

and yes, as much as matt would deny it, you had made a mistake. a damn big one at that. you should have known better. no matter how gifted you were at defending yourself, no matter how many times you had practiced, it wasn’t enough. nothing would ever be enough. and yet you had stupidly decided to go against a group of kingpin’s lackies, big huge guys who ate kids like you for breakfast. they didn’t hold back, and they beat you up until you were barely conscious, and that’s when stupid matt came and did his stupid thing and saved your stupid ass from stupid death or some stupid thing like that. and now you were here, in this stupid apartment wishing you had just stayed in and done your stupid homework and watched some stupid tv and just stayed out of things for once. 

“i’m going to bed, matt.”

you spoke, too ashamed to face him. but stupid matt always knew, with his stupid heightened senses and the stupid way that he knew you inside and out, ever since he had taken you in a few years before.

“come on y/n. this isn’t something you can sleep off, and you know it.”

and you did know it. so that’s why you sat at the table, a hiss of air escaping you against your will as you lowered yourself down.

“i’ll get the kit from under the sink.”

“matt, really, it’s fine. it’s just little stuff, okay? i’m fi–”

“fine doesn’t smell like blood, y/n. i’m not stupid.”

that earned him an eye roll, which he never saw, but he always knew happened when he said things like that. you watched as he made his way to the sink, opening the cabinet underneath and rummaging around for the first aid bag. A while ago, you had put stickers on it so he could discern it from the other things in there. There were four flower stickers, and one that foggy had given you, with disney princesses that said “together we are strong”. 

matt settled into the chair across from you, exhaling softly. the lights of a police car suddenly filled the dark apartment, screeching sirens accompanying it. you reached for the kit, but matt shook his head.

“no, y/n. i’ll do it.”

you opened your mouth, about to protest, but you could tell he wasn’t going to budge. his stubbornness was something you liked, sometimes. it sure helped when you both wanted pizza for dinner and foggy wanted wings. besides, you knew he would be able to patch you up right, with all the experience he got from helping his father. he had always told you that you were just like him, willing to give anything to protect your honor. but what matt never said was that he was just like his father too, and that if anything, you had just gotten those traits from him. 

“did they get you in the head at all?” he asked, soaking a cotton pad in hydrogen peroxide and gesturing for you to guide it where your wounds were.

“yeah, a little bit. i tried to block ‘em. they just kept coming matt, i couldn’t do anything!” you grimaced as the pad touched the spot on your shoulder where you had been grazed by something sharp.

“i know, y/n. it’s not your fault.”

“see but that’s the issue. it IS my fault, matt!” you spoke, voice getting slightly strained, throat feeling tight. you squinted your eyes to prevent tears from falling, but it was too late. a few landed on his hand, and you turned away, trying to compose yourself. “there was no reason to go out there. i don’t know why the hell i thought it was a good idea. i was just … mad! mad about the way they’re treating everybody in this place, mad about the way they’re screwing over every person they deal with… mad about how they treat YOU, god damn it!”

a moment of silence as you tried to slow your breathing, and for a minute, you didn’t know how he was going to react. he reached into the kit, feeling around until he grabbed a bandage, unwrapping it. you helped his hand go to where it needed to be placed, and once it was, he sat back. only then did you see the furrow in his brow, the deep frown on his face.

“look, y/n. i need you to listen to me, and really hear me, alright? i’m proud of you.”

“come on matt, that’s –”

“no. i’m proud of you. really, really proud. i just … i just want you to be careful, alright? i worry about you. and for good reason, considering all this.” you could see his face start to crack ever so slightly, a quick break in his voice indicating that he really meant it. you moved your chair back, stood up, and hugged him tight, despite a slight lingering pain in your shoulder. after a little while, he kissed your forehead, then patted you on the back. 

“i’d assume it’s pretty late now. how about you get to bed? we’ll figure out if you need to go to school tomorrow, alright?”

“sounds good. thanks matt. love you.”

“love you too, y/n.”

-----------------------✰--------------------

[bqstqnbruin]

See You Again

I'm actually posting a fic for the first time in seven months aka the first fic I've finished in seven months peace love teaching

anyway, I wrote this for the lovely @wyattjohnston's summer fic exchange! I got to write for @selfindulgentpoorlywritten but I've never written for Nico before, so I hope you like this (I was fully inspired by my own mess of a life)

Edit since I’m a dumbass thank you to @kat-hearts for reading this first and being amazing ily 😭

One of the characters, Nat is nonbinary, and I did my best to make the reader gender netural, which I haven't done before on either account, so I hope I did it justice (if something is glaringly wrong, please let me know!)

Warnings: I was mean with the ending? A little? Also, some swearing, drinking, almost physical fighting

Word Count: almost 2.8k

_______________________________________

“When was the last time you saw him?”

You tried to shift through your memory to figure that out. In person, the last time was sometime in the first week of December about two years ago. Thinking about him, which thankfully didn’t count, would involve you giving a much more recent answer, way more recent than you would really like to admit. “I don’t remember.” 

“Well,” your roommate Nat says, looking down at their phone. “I have bad news.”

“Fucking hell,” you moan, tilting your head to hit the back of the seat of the Uber. You knew what they were going to say before the words even started to come out of their mouth.

“Nico is going to be there tonight. With all the guys.” You let out another groan, the Uber driver giving you a scowl through the rearview mirror. “I’m sorry! Jack didn’t know he was coming, or he would have told us way before we got ready.” 

You stare out the window, trying to think of all the ways that you could get out of this situation. You already paid for the Uber and didn’t want to pay for another one. You weren’t about to go somewhere by yourself, especially since the bar you were heading towards wasn’t within a reasonable walking distance if you were to go somewhere by yourself, and no way was Nat going to leave with you without Jack, and Jack, of course, wasn't going to leave without his teammates. 

“We can go back right now and I’ll tell Jack to have fun with his team instead,” Nat tells you as if they could read your mind. They put their hand over yours, trying to give you any sense of calm that was setting into your panic. “We do not have to be around Nico.” 

“What kind of person tells someone they like them but not enough to date them?” you mutter, knowing you and Nat have had this conversation many times on your kitchen floor, drunk and crying together at 2 in the morning. They had introduced you to Nico one night after a game when the team went out to celebrate. They had been dating Jack for about a year at that point, meeting him through his brother at Michigan and reconnecting when they both realized they were going to be in New Jersey together. Quinn had used the reasoning of, “he won’t know anyone in the state,” only for everyone to realize later that he knew Jack had been smitten with Nat since they met. If only you had been so lucky. 

You had known of Nico, obviously. How could you not? He was the captain of the Devils, the team you grew up surrounded by, the number one draft pick in the sport your roommate never shut up about. He covered your social media feeds without you really wanting them to and everyone you knew talked about what a great game he had the night before. You couldn’t escape the idea of him, no matter where you went. 

When you met him that night a few years back, there was something about him in person that you were drawn to. He had been just an idea to you, not someone you could think about as being real. You spent that entire night with him, your friends either wandering off or you too enthralled with Nico to notice that they were there. Nat and Jack were heading back to your place before last call, and you were left knowing that you had to see Nico again.  

He asked if he could kiss you, making you melt as his hand gently snaked its way to your cheek, pulling you close when you said yes and covering your mouth with his. You waited for his text the next day, anxiously checking your phone until he finally did after 3 pm. From then on, you told each other everything, texting each other whenever you could, him calling you and heading over to your apartment whenever he didn’t have an obligation to the team. You fell hard for him and you had believed that he felt the same about you. 

“The kind of person who doesn’t know what they have until it’s gone,” Nat tells you, trying to pep you up. “Hey, we can find you a guy that is just as hot as Nico tonight.” 

“I’m gonna move to Ireland and isolate myself with the spuds.”

“Act like you can be away from me for that long,” they tease, earning a laugh from you. “I’m serious, though. Tell me what you want to do, or who you want to do, and Jack and I will make it happen.”

You didn’t want someone just as hot as Nico, you wanted Nico. You hated the fact that there was more than one time that you had pulled up his messages on your phone, part of you unable to delete that conversation thread even though you knew it would be the healthy thing to do. But you weren’t known amongst your friends for doing what was best for your mental wellbeing, so you kept them, going back through the conversations you had in the four months you were seeing him. The last text was what haunted you the most, him telling you that he was going to be back in Switzerland for the summer and that he ‘didn’t want you tied down to one person’ while he was gone.

He said he would text you when he was back. 

He never did. 

There were multiple times when you wanted to text him, but you never did, either. 

“Yeah,” you manage to choke out. “Let’s do it.” 

You spend the rest of the ride in silence, trying to think of where in the bar you would be able to hide from Nico so that he wouldn’t see you. The guys were already inside, Jack telling Nat about 10 minutes ago that they went to start drinking as fast as they could. 

The bar was somehow muggy inside, as if the beer itself hung in the air rather than the sweat of the nearly one hundred drunk people that were crowding every square inch of the floor. Jack was easy to spot for Nat, his five foot eleven frame not the largest of his teammates, but still distinct enough that your roommate had left your side within seconds of entering to be with their partner. 

So much for finding you someone tonight. 

You tried to stay away from him, closer to Nat and Jack as best as you could, but they kept wandering off from you. The last thing you wanted to do was go with them when they were both on their way to drunk and have a history of doing slightly illegal things in the bathrooms at bars. 

You had to find someone to talk to. Any person who looked interesting. Any other guy on the team who you were friends with, but that was really only Jack, and that was really only because he’s dating Nat. Your phone was your only comfort, finding a table that had been pushed up against the wall and hoping that there was something you could doom scroll on that would distract you from looking towards Nico. 

He had the right to do what he wanted at the bar with his teammates. You weren’t together. 

“You ok?” you hear during a lull in the music, pulling you away from your phone for a moment. You didn’t know who was standing in front of you, one of the newer guys from the trade deadline that Nat definitely hadn’t introduced you to. He was waiting for you to respond, looking like he had wanted to sit down with you.

“Yeah, just, not a big ‘going out’ person.”

He lets out a nervous laugh, a smile that sends a jolt through your system that you hadn’t felt in a while. Since Nico, if you were really willing to be honest with yourself. “Me neither, honestly. I’m just here because I didn’t have anything else to do.” 

“I got dragged here with my roommate so they can be with their boyfriend,” you tell him, gesturing to Nat and Jack trying their best to sneak out of the bathroom, Jack’s shirt buttoned wrong, both of their previously neatly styled hair in a mess that you only saw after hearing them the night before. 

“So that’s the infamous Nat,” he says, taking the seat beside you. You nod as he continues, “Jack never shuts up about them. Not that Jack shuts up about anything or anyone, ever, but especially not Nat.” 

“I always knew he was a good one,” you tell him, introducing yourself so he knew you as more than just, ‘his teammate's partner’s roommate.’

“I’m Timo.” 

You spent the rest of the night bouncing between the table and the bar with Timo, him buying you every drink you wanted. There was something about him that was different, but you couldn’t focus all of your attention on him. 

He was talking about his time in San Jose while you were waiting for your next round of drinks. You couldn’t focus on a word he was saying, Nico within your line of sight talking to a girl. A really attractive girl, you might add. You felt your heart drop, feeling a lump in your throat forming faster than you could lie to yourself about that scene having no effect on you. Naturally, Nico would talk to other people. You hadn’t talked to him in two years, let alone seen him in person. Just because you couldn’t get over him, no matter how hard you tried, that didn’t mean he didn’t get over you.

“And then I got traded here, and I love it, so far,” you tune back into Timo, who is suddenly much closer than you remember. It’s just because the bar is loud, people are starting to crowd for drinks, and, fuck, you have to admit, he’s pretty hot. 

Nico was still watching. 

Timo took your hand, leading you off to the table where you were before, the drinks in your hand probably not ones that you needed to begin with. His free hand snaked its way to your waist, pulling you close to him. You could feel your heart racing faster with every inch he got closer to you. You wanted him to kiss you. 

You thought you did. 

“I’m sorry,” you pull away right as his lips were about to meet yours, tears starting to form in your eyes, leaving the drink he bought you in his hands as you ran from him. Your breath catches in your throat while you try to find Nat and Jack, just praying that they weren’t back in the bathroom or too intoxicated in general to help out. 

You heard Timo calling after you, somehow, through the volume of the music and your own drunkenness, breaking through and getting to you. You didn’t want Timo calling your name, you wanted it to be Nico. 

You needed it to be Nico. 

“Hey, hey,” you hear, feeling a familiar hand gently place itself on your arm. You turn around, Nico’s face a mixture of concern and fury. “What did he do?” 

“He, he,” you stammer, the tears falling faster the more you looked at him, every memory you had with him suddenly rushing back into your mind. “He didn’t do anything. You did.”

You yank your arm from him, trying to find anywhere to be in the building that didn’t have one of Nico’s teammates looking at you causing a scene. You knew he was following you, calling your name again and again over the music. People were starting to stare, but no part of you cared, trying harder to not let the tears that were burning your eyes fall down your cheeks. 

Nat and Jack were nowhere to be seen, the rest of Nico’s teammates trying to figure out what was going on when you burst through the front door of the bar, the cold fall air hitting your face as soon as you did. You let out a sob, trying to steady yourself against the wall of the building, sliding down to the ground while people waiting to get in tried to figure out if they should help you or if you were just another drunk person having some sort of meltdown that was none of their business. 

“Hey,” you hear, a soft voice coming from above you. “I’m so sorry if I did something wrong.” Timo slid down next to you. “I read the situation wrong, I thought you were also into me.”

“I am, I just,” you start, trying to think of what to say. 

“Hey, what the fuck did you do?” Nico yells, pulling Timo off the ground. “What did he do to make you cry?”

“Nico, stop,” you let out, Timo looking both confused and terrified by his new captain’s hand on his shirt collar. “He didn’t do anything.”

“What the fuck did I miss?” Timo asked, slowly trying to back away from Nico staring you down. 

“Why can you talk to other people and I can’t?” you ask him, feeling your sadness turn into anger. “You had no issue not talking to me for the last two years.” 

“I’m gonna go,” Timo lets out, barely loud enough for the two of you to hear and sneaking away before you could notice. 

“You didn’t want to talk to me,” Nico counters, taking a step towards you. “But you wanted to talk to TImo instead?”

“Where the fuck did you get that idea?” 

“You never texted me. You’ve spent the entire night avoiding me. You think I didn’t see you when you were by yourself on your phone?” 

“You were in Sweden. And you could have come up to me and talked to me, what was stopping you? Oh, that’s right, your new girlfriend.”

“Switzerland. And she’s not my girlfriend. I haven’t seen anyone in ages.”

“Wherever you were, you weren’t here,” you tell him, your back against the wall. How long had it been since he had last seen someone? There was no way you had been the last person he was with. “You told me you didn’t want to be tied down while you were back home. You didn’t even want to talk to me, because if you did, you would have.” 

“You’re joking,” he scoffs. “You think I didn’t want to talk to you? Every fucking day I have thought about how our conversations would go when I saw you after you get home from work. I would think about you telling me about your day, about everything you would tell Nat, or whoever you were seeing at the time. Every single person I saw in the last two years, I wanted them to be you.” 

You didn’t know what to say, letting Nico’s words sink in. “Then why didn’t you text me when you came back from Switzerland?” 

Nico took in a deep breath, closing his eyes and tilting his head up to the sky. “Because I thought there was no way someone else wouldn’t have realized how amazing you are. There was no way I could be someone who you thought was worth waiting for.” 

Nico takes a step towards you, his hand gently taking yours. This was a moment you had been thinking about since he left for Switzerland two years ago. You knew he was going to kiss you, having you pinned against the wall of the building. His free hand cupped your cheek.

“There you guys are!” Nat interrupts, them and Jack clearly having just finished up doing something they weren’t supposed to be doing. Nico steps away from you, clearing his throat, the red in his cheeks so noticeable there was no way even your roommate wouldn’t comment on it later.  “We’ve been looking for you, for um.”

“Long enough,” Jack finishes their sentence, a stupid smile covering his face. You knew he was lying, but no part of your brain was letting you focus on that. Nico leaned against the building, his arm up over your head. “The uber’s almost here. Are you ready to go?”

No. “Yes.” 

The three of you leave Nico standing there by himself, Nat and Jack falling asleep in the Uber as soon as it gets on the highway. 

You check your phone for the first time in a while, a lone notification popping up on your phone that hadn’t been there in almost two years. 

‘Nico, iMessage.’ 

[trekscribbles]

The Bushwhack Job: Chapter Three

Chapter One Chapter Two

(Disclaimer: This is a relatively rough draft and subject to change when I post to AO3. I'm just overly excited and want to share what I have.)

“You sure you’re all right?” J.B. asked for the third time.

Spencer took a deep breath, closing his eyes and concentrating on staying upright. “Fine,” he grunted. The lie came easily, and it brought back the question he’d been trying to avoid.

What sort of a man was he?

He’d known exactly what to do to escape the parking garage, and he hadn’t balked at being shot at or waking up beside a dead body. He’d almost certainly killed before. He lied without remorse. He’d even found himself noting various pickpocketing targets as he followed J.B. through the streets. Worst of all, he’d left something behind in that garage—something important, something worth more than his life—and he couldn’t remember what.

He was a criminal, that much was clear.

Maybe the men who’d been after him had a good reason to want him dead.

They walked just over a mile, and Spencer felt every step in his pounding head and aching bones. He definitely had a concussion, and his various other injuries were growing harder to ignore. The obvious solution would be to go to a hospital, but instinct warned him against that. He had no idea who his enemies were or where they might be. Hospitals meant reports and questions and paper trails.

He’d had worse. Probably. No hospitals.

He was shaking by the time J.B. led the way up the front steps of a tall, thin building squashed between a liquor store and an office for rent. “This isn’t an official shelter,” J.B. explained, puffing up the stairs and throwing a gap-toothed smile over his shoulder at Spencer. “Nothing run by the city, anyway. Miss Sunny June lets a few of us stay in her extra rooms, ‘s long as we help out around the place. Jim seems to have gotten himself on his feet again, so there’ll be an opening.”

Spencer hesitated at the bottom of the stairs, gripping the railing with his bloody hand, his breath coming in pathetic little pants. After a few steps, J.B. paused and gave an encouraging wave toward the door. “Almost there.”

“Why are you helping me?” Spencer blurted.

J.B. lifted his eyebrows. “You need help.”

He smiled, and when Spencer only stared in response, he turned and went on. Spencer stayed where he was. He couldn’t afford to trust random men he’d met on the street, not with so many others looking for him, but what choice did he have? He needed rest, a chance to clean up and assess his injuries, to try to remember something about his situation. He’d found J.B. by accident—his enemies couldn’t have anticipated him going down that exact street at that exact moment—but still, he was uncertain. That feeling still pulled at him, the certainty that he was leaving something behind, that he needed to go back.

“Come on,” J.B. called gently. “You can leave tomorrow if you want, but you need a place for tonight.”

Rest when you can. Regain your strength, then get back to the job.

Spencer leaned his weight on the railing and started up the stairs.

“Sunny’ll want a full name,” J.B. said casually. “She doesn’t keep records, but she likes to know who’s staying with her.”

Another name. Spencer closed his eyes, casting through the darkness for some fragment of identity. Nothing came to mind. He dug through his recent memories, billboards and posters they’d passed on their walk through the city, and settled on the name of an oil company that had advertised a job opening in the window of a career center.

“Ready?” J.B. asked. Without waiting for an answer, he knocked on the door and stepped back to stand beside Spencer. He straightened, trying to make himself look as presentable as possible, but he winced when a light came on over the door a second before it opened.

A large, round woman stood in the doorway in a cotton nightgown, her gray hair done up in curlers, a baseball bat in one hand. She adjusted a pair of cat eye glasses over her nose and studied them before breaking into a grin. “J.B.! I was wondering if you were going to come by tonight!”

“Miss Sunny June,” J.B. said, stepping foward to give the woman a hug. She lowered her bat, but kept it in her hand as she looked over J.B.’s head at Spencer.

“I see you brought a friend.”

“He needs a place,” J.B. said, stepping back and setting his hand on Spencer’s shoulder.

Sunny June gave him a long, appraising look. She was several inches taller than him, and somehow managed to look intimidating in her nightclothes. “What’s your name?”

“Spencer Stone.”

“I got no tolerance for drugs or alcohol in my home,” she said sternly.

Spencer tried not to squint through the light as he nodded. “No, ma’am. Won’t be a problem.”

He fell into a southern drawl as he spoke, which somehow felt both natural and affected. She studied him a moment longer, a slight frown settling over a mouth marked with laugh lines, before finally leaning the bat against the wall by the door.

“All right then. If J.B. vouches for you, we can give it a try. There’s a room upstairs you can use, but you’ll be sharing a bathroom with J.B. and Tomás. That a problem?”

“No, ma’am.”

She continued to watch him, but her expression was turning curious. “Get yourself cleaned up. I have some supper left you boys can share.”

J.B. gave her another hug, and Spencer dipped his head and murmured, “Thank you, ma’am,” as he ducked inside. He followed J.B. up the stairs and into the tiny room he was to use, furnished with a twin bed pushed against one wall, a dresser, and a small desk. It was simple, but the smell of fresh soap wafted up from the sheets, and a few old paintings and bright curtains gave the room a homey feel. Spencer stood in the doorway and inhaled, sinking into a flash of memory: he was small, running between dangling clothes on a laundry line, laughing as he chased after a girl in a yellow dress.

“You can use the bathroom first,” J.B. said behind him. “There are soap and towels in the cabinet. Sunny usually keeps some extra clothes in the dressers. Take a look, see if anything’ll fit.”

He opened his eyes, forcing down the hollow feeling burning through his chest. He should thank J.B., he knew he should, but he wasn’t sure how to say it. Thanks for not leaving me to die on the street. I can’t pay you back. I don’t know if I trust you.

“I’ll meet you downstairs,” J.B. said, backing into the hallway, and then it was too late.

So he was a coward as well as a criminal.

He considered just going to sleep, but his stomach was empty and there was blood in his hair, and he didn’t want to ruin Sunny’s sheets. With brisk, mechanical movements, he searched the dresser drawers until he found some clothes that looked like they might fit, then shuffled into the bathroom and turned on the shower without looking in the mirror, afraid of what he wouldn’t recognize. His clothes were torn and stained and singed, the pockets empty except for a little cash. Still, they were his only clue to himself, so he folded them as nicely as he could and left them on the floor. Undressing only gave him more questions: bruises across his forearms, defensive wounds to go with the swollen knuckles earned from punches; scraped skin on his shoulders and back, probably from his fall; a shallow cut across his thigh, and a turned ankle that throbbed without the support of his boot. Then there were the scars crisscrossing his body, more stories he couldn’t remember. He ran the washcloth over them quickly, not wanting to linger over the feeling of calloused and pitted skin. He gritted his teeth as he washed the blood from his hair, feeling gingerly along the cut in his scalp. It wasn’t large, and had mostly stopped bleeding already, though he stood under the water until he was sure he wouldn’t get blood on anything else.

When he could procrastinate no longer, he turned off the water, stepped out of the shower, and cleared a circle of steam from the mirror.

Apparently he had blue eyes. There were tiny cuts along his right cheek and ear where the window glass had flown up in his face, and his bottom lip was split. He stared into his blank expression, waiting for the moment of recognition.

It didn’t come.

He sighed and pulled on his borrowed sweatpants and dark blue hoodie, both a size too big, and toweled off his wet hair. He still looked like hell, but at least he wouldn’t make a mess of Sunny’s house by walking through it.

J.B. was waiting for him in the kitchen, a small room with yellow wallpaper and dated cupboards. He sat with Sunny at a round table barely large enough for the two cups of coffee and the plate full of leftovers it held, and he smiled when Spencer walked in. “How you feeling?”

Spencer ducked his head, self-conscious of the bruises and cuts visible in the uncompromising light. “Good. Thanks.”

“You’re not a good liar,” Sunny said. “C’mere, let me take a look at you.”

Something in him warmed at the words not a good liar, but he shook his head when she reached out to guide him toward an empty chair. “That’s all right, I just came down to thank you for—”

Sunny scooted her chair back and stood, pulling a plate out of the cupboard as she spoke. “Let’s get this straight, boy: I don’t like repeating myself. Now you sit down and eat, and let me fix up those cuts before you pick up an infection. Then you can go on up to bed.”

Spencer sat. He accepted a plate of chicken and rice casserole and ate in silence while she took a first aid kit from beneath the sink and moved a chair between him and J.B. She waited until he’d taken a few bites before opening the kit. “What happened to you?” she asked. “Car accident?”

“Yes,” Spencer said.

She swatted his leg. “I told you you’re no good at lying. You don’t have to say if you don’t want to, but don’t lie to me.”

He looked at her, studying her sharp brown eyes and feeling like a bug underneath her microscope. She’d given him an out—you don’t have to say if you don’t want to—and that, more than anything else, compelled him toward the truth.

“I fell,” he said, simply, finally.

Sunny held his gaze a moment longer and nodded. “All right. Eat.”

The kit was well stocked; while Spencer chewed with his sore jaw, Sunny dabbed ointment on his various cuts and bruises and bandaged the larger injuries. She started with his hand, working her way up his arm and neck before gently turning his face to reach his cheek. He kept his eyes on his plate, trying to relax his tensed muscles. The casserole was good. The chicken was canned, but well seasoned, and the rice had been boiled in chicken stock instead of water. Simple ingredients, strong flavor.

He found he liked her.

“I’m gonna take a look at your head,” Sunny said, tilting his chin up with one careful finger. “You might need to go in for stitches.”

Spencer pulled away. “I’ll do it myself.”

“Don’t be stupid,” she said. “You couldn’t reach. Now come back here and don’t move.”

“I can do it,” J.B. offered, speaking for the first time since Spencer had joined them. He’d watched Sunny’s ministrations in silence, sipping his coffee while Spencer tried not to feel like a county fair exhibit.

Sunny leaned back in her chair to look at J.B. “How do you know a thing like that?”

“Picked it up a ways back,” J.B. said. “You know how it is.”

Sunny shrugged and turned her attention back to Spencer’s head. He’d stopped eating, and was keeping as still as possible while her careful fingers parted his hair. His breath hitched when she touched the edge of the wound, and rush of nausea made him clench his jaw shut.

“All right,” she soothed. “J.B., come here and hold his hair back. There, that’s better. Okay. It’s not as bad as I thought.”

Spencer took a shaking breath through his nose and waited out the pain. He had a feeling he’d done that before.

“The cut itself isn’t bad,” Sunny went on. “Though it’s looking pretty swollen. I’ll get you something to put on it, but you really should go in. You’ve probably got a concussion.”

“They’ll just tell me to rest,” Spencer said.

The fingers withdrew, and Spencer exhaled in relief. “You don’t need to be stubborn about it,” Sunny said, wiping her hands on a napkin.

Spencer looked up at her and tried for a smile. “Supper is delicious, ma’am. Thank you.”

“That’s all you got to say?”

Her expression wasn’t quite irritated, so he eased a bite of casserole onto his fork and lifted it between them. “If you buy a block of cheese and shred it yourself, it’ll melt more evenly. The pre-shredded stuff has starches to prevent clumping, which affects how it melts.”

She laughed, and the sound almost made the pain worth it. “Fine then. I’ll get you some acetaminophen and a cool cloth, but I’m going to be checking in on you in the morning. Don’t think you can get out of that.”

“Thank you, ma’am.”

“And that’s enough of that ‘yes, ma’am, no, ma’am’ nonsense. You call me Sunny or Sunny June, or you get yourself back out onto the street.”

Spencer stood, moving slowly to make sure he didn’t lose his balance, and took his and J.B.’s empty plates to the sink. There was a dishwasher tucked under the counter, so he put the rinsed dishes inside and returned to the table just long enough to take Sunny’s hand. “Thank you, Sunny June,” he said quietly, and nodded to J.B. before making his way back up the stairs to bed.

[longeyelashedtragedy]

taking a risk and posting the very first section of the threesome (which STILL has no title? very odd for me). it is an xxxtreme first draft so some of the language is rough/worded weirdly (i do this so i can just get an idea out onto the page without getting stuck on the wording and then forgetting what it was). that first paragraph has too many tenses in it on purpose--i'm trying to figure out which sounds best! sorry that it starts with a sort of disembodied handjob!

There are so many things Frank won’t think about as he walks up to the carefully placed ball.

For one, the nails painted a bright electric blue.  Cute, thoughtful, flattering.  Thoughtful.  Flattering.  Flattering.  The gaffer said: nothing strenuous.  Not even my hands!  Can’t even use my hands!  Can’t touch you tonight!  Uh-uh, call Roberto up now if you don’t believe me!  Here, take my phone, call him up!

Looking down and watching the nails that decorate the long fingers wrapped around his cock.  It was not a lazy hand; she stroked him firmly.  But lovingly.  Teasing the tip making him moan and say her name out loud despite the sudden embarrassment of this.  The chin digging into his neck and the soft hair draping over his shoulders and the nipples pressing against his bare back through the thin shirt she wears to sleep.  If he closes his eyes there’s a moment of safety.  Everything is alright.

He thinks of sucking the Chelsea-blue fingertips clean with his eyes closed so she can admire his eyelashes.  He knows well what he tastes like on her fingers, thighs, stomach.

With his eyes closed his mind tells him it’s the taste of John.

He won’t look into the bursting blue and white stands to meet her eyes.  Then he’ll have to think about this: how there’s no girlfriend with his name on her back—never has been, she doesn’t do that, has never done.  She’s not like the others.  When he sees her in the stands she stands out.  She’s different.  And it worries him sometimes.  If someone thinks—If she’s different than maybe so is he—

He thinks about John—John is there too, John in his kit.  John trapped in a stadium seat because of being what she’d called a bit of an idiot over dinner or because of what he’d thought of as passion but in private, in the depths of his heart, he has to agree with her.

It’s why she makes a better fiancée than he’d thought life would bring him after he’d made a mistake the first time.  They’re often of the same mind about the day-to-day things.  If they got deeper, there’s a lot she surely wouldn’t agree with about how he feels about John Terry.  So Frank spends the time poised, tense, making sure they don’t get deeper.

 Stop thinking!  John should be doing this with him.  He can’t bear to not have John when he’s supposed to have John.  Stop thinking!

Then he’s back to himself, Super Frank, the captain today, not a leader, maybe a legend, and captain all the same. He sets the example and he works hard enough to tune out the distractions. He’s strong, focused, a good example of a man for others.  His footsteps vibrate though him.  He hears them thump in his ears.  The adrenaline flows, and his view of the world narrows to nothing but the pitch ahead of him and Manuel Neuer.  He doesn’t hear anything.  This is one of the moments he’s been training for all his life.  He doesn’t think of how Dad was the one who first prepared him.  These moments are the ones he lives for.  When it all leaves his mind.

His foot meets the ball with that calm, steady, controlled force.  Up and over Neuer’s arms, cleanly into the top of the net.

*

The team the staff the entourage soaked in champagne and sweat and screams. 

*

The families are loaded onto a different coach.  The first team hanging out of the seats, hooting and spilling things and faking grinding on each other in the aisles, soaking in more champagne and sweat and screams.  It wouldn’t have been out of the ordinary for Frank and John to share a victory kiss.  Shouldn’t have been, anyway.  What kind of world is this, that’s designed things so that they can’t?  It’s Dad’s tired 70s, 80s, 90s holding the 21st century hostage.  Frank is tired of Dad’s world.  He was captain.  He should get a victory kiss.

John takes a break from swigging the Dom Pérignon to do what he always does.  To be on the same wavelength as Frank and yet crushingly not.  “You’re such a fucking star, Lamps,” he yells over the horrible music someone is playing.  “I’m so fucking proud of this lad,” he says to Petr, who’s fully aware.  And then back to Frank.  “Too bad you’re not some pretty girl.  I’d give you a kiss, wouldn’t I?”

*

They don’t get to the Mandarin Oriental until three in the morning.  They’re already playing what one of the younger lads identifies as Justin Timberlake in the hotel ballroom.  Nobody will sleep tonight.

[littlemissmanga]

hi! saw your 200 word blurbs requests!

can I get #9 or #1 with Jesse? whatever floats your boat, I’m sure I’ll enjoy it either way!

thanks for considering!!

Send me one of the following for a 200 word clone drabble

Nonnie!!!! I did NOT forget about you! I had this in my drafts and I thought I had posted it. Thank you so much for your patience!!

As much as Jesse would love to see you in his shirt, I haven't done No. 9 yet, and I think it's time someone got tied up.

Pairing: Jesse x gn!Reader

W/C: 828 (I did not hold back on this even a little bit and I'm not sorry at all).

Warnings: M, Juicy Jesse being himself. Talk of bondage, filthy desperation, just absolute filth and sin, but no action. just the promise cause I'm a horrible tease :) Minors DNI

Divider by @samspenandsword <3

Also, this functions as a pt 2 to the Jesse kiss prompt :)

Dinner was only half done. The table still wasn’t set. You hadn’t even changed into the cute outfit you bought just for tonight. But with the way Jesse was kissing you, you doubted any of that mattered to him.

It’s his fault for not calling, anyway.

So, you decided not to let it bother you, either. You melted into his kiss, molding your lips to his as his gloved hands slid underneath your shirt, the rough fabric scraping deliciously across your skin. The rough stubble of his jaw chafing your lips and chin, but each scratch just fueled your need. The burn was a constant reminder, even when he pulled away to pant against you, that he was here. Home. Safe.

“Bed. Now,” he barked, his command only undercut by the breathlessness of his voice. Your stomach swooped at the total control he kept over himself, even as his need became evident. You planned on making him a little needier.

He was so fun when he lost control. And you wanted to be taken for a ride tonight.

With a flirty smile, you quickly shut off the stove, Jesse’s presence looming behind you, silently urging you to move faster. He was at his limit, and you loved it. Now he needed to bring you to yours.

You took his hand and pulled him into your room, letting go and slipping your shirt over your head. You turned away from him to face your bed to strip off your pants as you heard his armor falling to the floor.

Waiting ��

Any moment now …

A low growl rumbled from behind you as a warm, bare chest pressed to your back. You held your breath to stop the shiver from racing down your spine.

“Mesh’la?” His tone was unnaturally calm considering, and you knew you wouldn’t be walking much tomorrow.

“Yes, baby?”

“Why is there rope next to the bed?” Jesse asked as if inquiring about the color of the bedsheets, nipping lightly at the tops of your shoulders.

“Oh, that.” Your Cheshire grin had taken over your face as you turned in Jesse’s grasp. “I wanted to do something special to welcome you home.”

The Republic cog tattoo on his forehead shifted as he raised a cocky eyebrow. “And you’re planning on tying me up?”

“Hm, maybe. If you’re good,” you tease, giving the tip of his nose a gentle peck and earning a chuckle from him. “But actually, you said something on our last call …”

Tilting the tone at the end of the last word, you let your voice fade, the embarrassment of actually saying what you had in mind stealing your words. You looked at him expectantly, hoping your smart ARC trooper would remember the words he let slip so casually that had you teasing yourself in his absence several times over the past few days.

Jesse’s eyes — the ones you insisted were the “kindest in the GAR” despite being shared by so many others — sparkled with mischief.

“Go on, gorgeous. Tell me.”

He wasn’t going to go easy on you. Not that you really wanted him to. You could already feel yourself getting wet at being forced to admit your desires.

“You said you …” You paused and leaned forward to bury your face in his neck, taking in the scent of regulation soap and sweat that was uniquely your Jesse. Liking it or not, you still weren’t able to look at him directly just yet. “You said you can’t wait to see how many times you can get me to come.”

You damn near purred as his arms came around you, holding you nice and tight as his hand traced your spine.

“I did. And I plan on finding out tonight,” Jesse promised in a low voice, his lips right next to your ear. “But that doesn’t explain the rope.”

You nestled closer, running your tongue wide and wet over his Adam’s apple. You felt his cock twitch against you through his blacks.

“If I’m tied up, I can’t pull away.”

Jesse spat a curse as he lifted you and tossed you roughly onto the bed. In a flash, he was on top of you, pinning you beneath him. He reached between you to run a single, thick finger along the seam of your underwear, making you writhe against him.

“Oh yeah, can’t have you squirming now, can we?” He teased, but you couldn’t answer as his finger pressed harder against you. “You wanna be all tied up like a pretty present for me so I can thoroughly ruin you?”

You nodded frantically, delighting in the wicked smile that spread over his face. Jesse leaned to the side, grabbing the rope and pulling it through his hands just to see your eyes widen at the sight.

“Well, then. Let’s get started.”

Taglist: @dreamie411 @wings-and-beskar @starrylothcat @blueink-bluesoul @wolffegirlsunite @secondaryrealm

[oleander-nin]

hi, Ollie! I notice you haven't been posting or reblogging anything recently and you're probably just busy, but I'm a little worried. you're a really kind person with a great sense of literature. all your followers and mutuals love you and are here for you if you need anything!! I hope that wherever you are, you're doing well! 🩵 I miss the silly reblogs you've done, they make me laugh :) I saw a post of yours recently about not receiving a lot of feedback on your writing. I too have not done a good job at responding.. and I'm sorry. I think your writing is always so enticing and suspenseful. I enjoy reading it and I hope you enjoy writing it as well. I hope to see more posts from you about just anything in the future. I hope your summer is giving you lots of fun! (if it's summer for you..) anyways, I miss you and am wishing you the best!!

Aww, thank you so much! This was super sweet to receive, and I appreciate it more than I can express. This also came in great timing, because I'm coming out of my hiatus lol. I'm trying to get three fics done and queued tonight so I can ease back into a normal-ish schedule.

Thank you so much for your support and kind words, it means a lot to me. Also, don't worry about the feedback thing, I was just really mopey for a while lol. I don't expect anything from you guys, just knowing y'all are here is enough. Thank you so much for your encouragement!

also if you care about stuff I reblog, I actually just have a seperate blog for it. I hate filling up this one for personal preference, so I made a sideblog for reblogging everything. The only thing I tend to reblog here is friends works or reblog games. I have like, 15 in my drafts but It feel wrong to post them when I've been gone for like 5 months.

[ageless-aislynn]

Hey, friends. Just wanted to say bye for now. I'm tired of fighting to no avail. If I can fix the computer eventually, then yay. But I'm tired of hours of research, hours of repair, all to seem like it worked and then something else crashes. For example, Steam/Halo has been working fine this whole time then tonight, it went absolutely nuts. Steam started updating in the middle of my Halo game. Then it wouldn't stop updating even after rebooting. Then it crashed every time I tried to load it again. I spent a LONG time reading debugging logs, tracking down key phrases and words, all to eventually come around to... Other people have had that happen but nobody seems to know why. All my drivers are updated. I've tested for program conflicts. Windows passed all of its tests. The computer hardware passed all of its tests. I'm just stumped.

Then as suddenly as this storm of blue screens (5 of them just tonight) came on, they stopped. I can launch and play Halo fine. For now.

I've had honestly had enough, so I'm going to take an offline vacation for however long I need to. I'm still writing the next chapter of "15 Minutes" but just by hand because it's too nerve-wracking to try and write on a device that suddenly BAM is dead and you never know when it's going to happen or if you managed to save what you just wrote in time.

That's another thing, I put all 7 drafts of this chapter on this computer from my backups, I started writing the 8th and went back to continue it... and the last 6 drafts are just gone. I mean, I looked everywhere. I cannot for the life of me figure out what caused them to vanish. I didn't do anything to roll the computer back that should've done that. Fortunately, I'd copied that last 8th draft into a Google doc so was able to get a new copy and didn't lose half the chapter. But now I feel so stressed writing, like... Will it be here when I get back? Will something eat it again? What ate it in the first place?

Eventually, if I can finish it, I'll transcribe it up and hopefully get to post it. I also hope to be back to enjoy the new season of Halo with y'all in Feb. That would be cool but I don't know if it's meant to be or not.

Anyway, feel free to still @ me and message if you'd like but I don't know when I'll be able to check in, so please forgive me if I seem to not respond for an unusual amount of time. I'll miss you. I miss you already. Sending you much love and well wishes. Hope to see you again before long.

[jackalope-with-a-pen]

hi ❤ it's not quite a full month since my last post on this blog so I'm considering that a win!

Anyway, I have been working on my Morgan time-traveling AU again and it's going really really well! I am having so much fun and I love yapping about it with my friends on discord. (you guys are great hypemen and I am so glad I get to bounce ideas off of you <3)

For a while after Searcher I wasn't sure if this AU was dead or not considering the lore & magic rules we learned that basically uhhh made the entire scenario completely impossible. 😅 but I really love this story and wanted to find a way to write it without COMPLETELY ignoring canon, so I modified the canon rules a bit and I think it works! (And the events of Searcher have helped me figure out where/how I want to end this fic, which is also great! It was very 🤷🏻 before, lol)

Also the way I changed the rules means my dear beloved bosun gets to suffer so much more in this version of the story, and I have been having a lot of fun with that. 🥰

I have made huge progress on my outline recently — I'm up to chapter 21, and I think the plot has... let's say seven arcs. seven, seven plotty arcs! Chapter 21 is the start of the fourth arc, which means I am almost halfway done???*

*I doubt these arcs will all be the same length when fully written, so this is only a rough estimate

It is both exciting and a little scary, because once the outline is done I'll be drafting it for real, and then I'll be badgering a couple of my friends to beta for me, and then I'll be publishing it on ao3... and I've been toying with this idea for MONTHS now, ever since I saw on the wiki that Morgan probably got zapped to New York in TGOA.

aww, poor Jack Of Days Past really went on the pulp wiki right after his birthday and got the disappointing but totally expected news that his favorite character wasn't gonna be in the next episode. 😂💔

but yeah, the fact that this story is getting closer to being an actual thing instead of just an idea in my head is crazy and I'm kinda just sitting here like woahhhhhg... it's happening

I also stayed up until 3 am last night frantically typing because I was in the zone and the words were wording and the plot was plotting so good and I probably shouldn't do that again but I'm ngl there is a good chance that will happen again tonight, lmaooooo

[scholarmoons-studyblr]

07.10.2024 - monday

things i did today:

well. last post i said i would do coding. it has been one month and one day. i have not yet started (it's 8:16pm rn but i do have plans to start today) i am actually very angry coding is due on my birthday

english notes !! shakespearean tragedies yessir.

i also completed like 5 pages of my english booklet while watching heartstopper which is cool because i love english

actually practiced my piano pieces + my sister asked me to play peppa pig's theme song and i did manage to figure it out by myself in the span of like 5 minutes

did the rough draft of my science report

🥥☁️🌙🎧 ‧˚₊• ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ୨୧ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ •‧₊˚⊹ 🎧🌙☁️🥥

things i will do tomorrow:

MY CODING !!! I WILL GRIND

draw the graph for my science report !!

as well as finish the bibliography + go over it so i can print and submit it since it's due end of the week (thursday)

i do want to go over my science topic for this term so there's that

my english booklet !! i am halfway there but there is a lot to write

french homework 😋

🥥☁️🌙🎧 ‧˚₊• ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ୨୧ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ •‧₊˚⊹ 🎧🌙☁️🥥

things i did for me today:

ummm i listened to music in class !! because i had no friends they're all away :( i honestly have not done much but i did come home and just doom scroll for an hour. had cramps for the whole day but its ok i pushed through !! what can i say i did read some of my book that i'm reading on my phone (page 756/958) so i'm hoping to finish it tonight. i'm going to watch 2 youtube videos that i have pinned on my browser before i go to bed

hello hello !! i'm back at school after holidays so i'll try start posting more consistently because it's october and um. yeah. its october happy autumn/fall for everyone in the northern hemisphere i wish i was there rn i'm so over summer uniform where have my trackies gone??? sorry if this is also a long post i'm yapping a bit today oh today in english this guy was like yo we don't have paper to write notes. but. *then proceeds to increase in volume* miss, sarah here has very kindly volunteered to give us paper because she's not stingy! and i was like oh... then i looked in my notebook and only had 1 blank page which i did give to them, however there were 4 people on the table. sharing 1 piece of paper. lesson learned i came home and switched notebooks. anyway thank u for listening to my mini rant !!

okay one more thing before i post this but SEASON 2 OF ARCANE COMES OUT NOV 9 I'M SO HYPED

sweet dreams xoxo- sarah

[randomperson99sworld]

Ruffled Feathers 🪶

~ Part 40 ~

Summary: Julia Morgan, Bobby's niece, has always been a royal thorn in Dean Winchesters ass since the day they met 1 year ago at Bobby's memorial. She wants to be a hunter, he thinks she's a dumb kid playing dress up. Will she always be seen as an unwanted load in Dean's eyes or will he see something more?

Pairing: Dean x OC

Warnings: Age gap, language, sexual themes (used lightly) , physical abuse (Not by Dean)

Word Count: 649

A/N: Another short chapter. Are you guys liking the story so far? My calendar is free tonight son I’m going to try to go through as many rough drafts as possible for you guys. Stated as always, this story is cross posted on Wattpad. Happy reading! ♥️

The soft hum of the night settled around them, the room warm and quiet in the aftermath of their intimacy. Dean lay on his back, one arm wrapped around Julia as she rested her head on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. It was a rare moment of peace—one that neither of them experienced often.

Dean stared at the ceiling, his mind surprisingly still. He wasn't used to feeling this calm, this... content. But with Julia curled up next to him, the world seemed quieter, less threatening. He could feel the familiar guilt tugging at the edges of his mind—the guilt for all the things he'd done, for all the darkness still inside him—but Julia's presence kept him grounded, pulling him back to the here and now.

"You still awake?" Julia's soft voice broke the silence, her breath warm against his chest.

Dean's fingers traced slow circles on her bare back. "Yeah. Just thinking."

She tilted her head up to look at him. "About what?"

He let out a small sigh, shifting his gaze from the ceiling to her. "About everything. Us. The mark." His jaw clenched slightly, the weight of the Mark of Cain always lingering at the back of his mind. "How I don't deserve this. Or you."

Julia frowned, lifting herself up on her elbow to look down at him. "Dean—"

"I almost killed you," Dean cut her off, his voice hoarse with the emotion he tried to suppress. "When I was a demon, I could've... I could've hurt you worse. And I wouldn't have stopped. How do you just... forgive that?"

Julia's hand moved to his cheek, her thumb gently brushing against the stubble along his jawline. "You didn't kill me, Dean. You saved me. More than once." Her voice was steady, firm. "And I forgive you because I know who you really are. That thing you were? That wasn't you."

Dean swallowed hard, his throat tightening at her words. She was always able to do this—cut through the noise in his head and make him see things differently. "But what if I lose it again? What if the mark takes over?"

"Then we deal with it," Julia said softly. "You're not alone in this, Dean. Not anymore."

For a long moment, Dean didn't say anything. He just looked at her, taking in the sincerity in her eyes, the way she always seemed to have this unshakeable faith in him. He didn't deserve her, but she stayed anyway.

Dean's hand came up to cup the side of her face, his thumb brushing over her cheek. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

"You don't have to find out," she replied, leaning down to press a soft kiss to his lips.

He kissed her back, tender and slow, his heart swelling with emotion he wasn't used to. When they broke apart, Dean let out a breath, his forehead resting against hers. "Thank you," he whispered, his voice barely audible.

Julia smiled, her fingers brushing through his hair. "Get some rest, Winchester. You've got another busy day ahead tomorrow."

Dean chuckled softly. "Yeah, right. Back to the grind." He paused, then added, "But tonight... I think I'm gonna hang on to this."

Julia settled back against him, her head returning to his chest. "Good. You should."

The two lay there in the quiet, wrapped in each other's warmth. As the hours stretched on, Dean finally felt his mind drift into sleep, the lingering worry about the Mark of Cain fading, at least for now. He wasn't sure what the future held or how much longer they could hold off the inevitable struggles. But for the moment, with Julia in his arms, everything felt a little less overwhelming.

And for the first time in a long while, Dean allowed himself to have hope. And God did  having hope terrify him...

[hummingbird-games]

chatty gemmy cathy tonight (who's STILL procrastinating + fighting the anxiety allegations) 🙂

I leave my additional rambling under the cut for your scrolling needs

LOL okay. So. Aside from meager updates and treats on ko-fi, I'm just way too anxious to make a proper new year post??? I've gotten caught in this loop where I want to spill my guts but I don't want to be perceived. So. knowing that most people scroll by posts anyway allows me the illusion that I'm sharing international secrets WITHOUT me acknowledging that I am sharing international secrets. yeah?

HSD:JY #2

as for what I can share here, I've been working--until right now--very quietly in the background and I get a thrill of excitement every time I touch the outline document?? I am also currently job hunting in the hopes of entraining a new place of employment that allows me to pay bills, fund this funky enterprise, and alleviate the physical and mental stress in my bubble of life. yup. but honestly being a game dev is still somehow cheaper than therapy so that tells you EVERYTHING you need to know kjzsfjsjf)

CRUSHED

Confession. I was supposed to fucking REST during the holidays. I was supposed to finish my little reading challenge and spend time with my family, and even if the holidays weren't holi-daying, just focus on my family who I do love dearly and could stand to show it more. yeah um so like I got to talking with some friends??? I mentioned this before lol. but I got to talking. and I got inspired. and then the next thing I knew, I was taking time away from what should have been spent on HSD (if I was gonna be stubborn and careless with said rest) annnnnd started working on Secret Project. or what my sibling calls Secret Project 2025--because I told them that this project wasn't supposed to be worked on until 2025.

Would you like take a guess as to what this secret project that will no longer be secret once I hit the "post" button is?

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any guesses?? give up?

Crushed #2. Previously under the working title "Folded" which I wasn't married to, and then renamed to "Loved" as I got deeper and deeper into the draft.

As it stands, Loved is gonna need some more "love" LOL!! Crushed was a very fast process from inception to production, mostly because writing Corey was as natural as breathing once I let go and Let God ☠️ Loved is Jacob's POV and um....listen, I love the guy, and I love him for Corey but fucking damn, his ass needed three outlines, all of my attention and wanning energy, a cry session, touching grass, and then the acknowledgment that the first draft was not going to be the final draft.

I really love how Jacob's POV came to be, I loved getting to know him outside of Corey and as his own character. and I loved being surprised by things in the draft. But it's so heavy. It's. Soooo. Heavy. Once again I found myself writing about grief (because 1) i'm so original and 2) because another story needed to be told authentically). But. I don't want it to be this heavy game when it's released out in the world. So when I have fresh eyes I will return to it and figure out if there's parts of Jacob's story that I missed due to tunnel vision that balances things out. and ofc there will be the fun things of getting beta/sensitivity readers because of Jacob being biracial--I've done research but certain things need more than my eyeballs on it--.

I'm gonna be super honest with y'all...it would be bat-shit crazy and an absolute dream of mine to get this game out to y'all by the end of the year. like december 2024. the only thing that's holding me back is HSD (because again that should have my full attention...Crushed is my baby but more players care about HSD and ahahah that's valid). The only thing--part 2--that's holding my back is funds. I VERY briefly considered a kickstarter but I'm still not built for crowdfunding and I've already had enough bad ideas 3 days into the new year, and I should spread it out more 🤧

but yeah. the reason this was supposed to be a 2025 project?? because I selfishly want to get to keegan and oke's story, and I KNEW that to get there, Jacob's came first. So in my infinite wisdom I decided to start now to be "prepared" to finish Jacob's POV later. and then I sat and wrote out the full draft.

🤡🤡🤡

anyhoo. there is so. much. STUFF. I wanna say about Loved, and I'm super proud of myself for keeping it kinda vague here, but I promise that if I suddenly get an inheritance from a dead family member, I will put it to good use in getting Loved done AND share all the swirling thoughts in my head about the game. oh and also be able to pay the sensitivity readers for their time and expertise, damn gemini ☠️

THE KNIGHT DANCE

not much to say here except if HSD is the main concern, TKD is the second main concern because I had to shelve this baby twice and HBG is overdue on a sapphic story (yes HSD has lovely sapphic content but as a player you can choose not to interact with it soooooo....)

this one will definitely force me to take initiative and reach out to people for all the roles and I still have Great Fear and Low Brain Cells so once I sit down, review the script, and figure out what roles need fulfilling, we can start cooking with oil!

IMPOSTER SYNDROME

keeping this very short and very vague, but...one of the things I pride myself on and strive to improve and keep up my skills with AND have been complimented on has been encouraged to be in the spotlight in a very low stakes way, but my brain as decided "no pressure" really means "yes pressure" and suddenly I believe myself to be the Worst Candidate. but I'm believed in and I don't want to let people down so it's just...distractions x 10 until I finally exhaust myself and get to work ☠️

i'll get over it just gotta be dramatically anxious first

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GOOD TALK!!!! lol and with that, I think I shall leave tumblr and find a soothing activity to participate in 🤣🙃