#i drafted it in 2016 or something
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
Text
Some quotes from "Tragedy + Time" ch1, with sketches by @megalunalexi
-
“EEEEEEEEYAAAAAAAAH!”
“OOOOWOOWOOWOO!”
The two robots barreled down the hallway, hollering at max volume, atop a pair of jet-powered office chairs. Long ago, some paper-pushers had smuggled in contraband from the labs to level up their chair-racing, and now their posthuman successors continued that tradition. The bots weren’t built for sitting, though—Blue squatted, spiderlike, its round core between its knees, while Orange’s long legs stuck out like antennae. Both had to cling to the seats underneath them. Above the engines’ roar, shrieks of mechanized delight echoed through the empty halls.
-
In the paper hailstorm that broke out between them, the phone was left to dangle unnoticed, reciting the directory to no one as it spun slowly on its cord. “For Aeronautics, press 1-1-2. For Agriculture, press 1-1-3. For Astrodynamics…” It got no answer but the tinny giggles of bots at play.
-
“Look, I’ll admit it. I don’t know how to motivate you. I’ve tried rewards. I’ve tried threats. I’ve tried wearing down your self-esteem, which I assume didn’t work only because you don’t have any to begin with. I burned your friend to death right in front of you. You know I’m serious. I will kill you if you don’t perform this test. So what’ll it be?”
The test subject didn’t flinch. And it wouldn’t, because it was a potted ficus, and she was out of ideas.
“This is pointless. What am I doing?” Testing a plant she’d found in an old break room and doused with radiation, that’s what she was doing. This was a new low. But what choice did she have? Nothing else worked—the Corvid Cognitive Testing Initiative was on hold while she tried to adapt a bird-sized portable portal device, the Human-Decentric Diversity Recruitment Program hadn’t caught so much as a squirrel, her cloning tanks churned out nothing but mindless sacks of organs, and she was talking to a ficus. The most massive collection of wisdom and raw computational power that ever existed, now reduced to—
Wait. The camera in the test chamber zoomed in.
Did it move? There was no wind to rustle its leaves down there, but she could swear it moved. Maybe those gamma rays just needed a little more time to take effect. Maybe she was losing her mind.
#tragedy+time#glados#fuchsia writes#fanart#!!!!!!!!!#LOVE how you got the bots' poses in the first one#and it's so funny to me that the ficus scene is like 8yrs old#i drafted it in 2016 or something
6 notes
·
View notes
Text
Willam Shakespeare (something rotten) and Doug Simon (Gutenberg) should make out to Thrill of First Love from Falsettos
#This is from my drafts#what the fuck was i on#their ship name is Dream Bard <3#shakespeare something rotten#something rotten#Willam Shakespeare#gutenberg the musical#doug simon#andrew rannells#christian borle#falsettos 2016#whizzer brown#marvin gardens#whizzvin
59 notes
·
View notes
Text
If you piss a kawaii girl off she's gonna break your nico nico niiicaps 😃💯💯
#Releasing this draft. Please laugh#Shitpost#wow anna said something#anna's shitposts#Love live#nico yazawa#I hope in 2025 we as a society are still not above nico nico nii jokes that used to be the shit in 2016#q#Kawaii
5 notes
·
View notes
Text
when i was chasing your storm, hoping for rain on the way home, instead of loneliness, you were pouring love. an unexpected gift, to find laughter and joy in something that most people grieve. you poured out your love from the macroburst above while wearing your heart on your sleeve.
#poetry#napowrimo#napowrimo2023#day 5#tweaked something from my drafts from 2016#this was laughter at an inappropriate moment prompt but i changed it to unexpected joys
62 notes
·
View notes
Text
Glass Epilogue: Tea
Tea found it impossible to return to routine.
She almost left the lights off. The floor to ceiling windows on the far side of the studio provided enough light to see her way around, and at least offered the illusion of privacy.
Gripping the strap of her dance bag, Tea flipped on the switch. She wouldn’t live in the shadow. She wouldn’t let the fear he instilled in her dictate her life anymore. Pegasus was dead and she would go on.
Tea went to the mirrored wall and stared down her reflection until her racing heart fell into line. She spent none of her own money renting the studio for the afternoon, only the money from Pegasus’s estate. Tea would spend every dime of it to reclaim her life. Pegasus tried to steal it. He failed.
He failed.
He failed.
Tea sat against the mirror and took her shoes from her bag. When her hands dared to shake, she paused to berate the weakness. She pulled the laces too tightly, held them, and with a forced breath, relaxed. Her hands relaxed, giving slack back to the laces, but her chest remained tense and tight. Too tight, an intense, deep squeeze threatening to steal her breath.
She traced the light rays coming through the streaked windows, and with every pass of her gaze, the next breath came easier. Enough had been stolen from her. She wouldn’t steal anything from herself.
Reclaim
The word on her wrist smudged after the walk over in the heat. She drew it on with a fine point marker every morning. One day, she might get it tattooed. But it was too soon for any permanent reminder, even if that reminder was a declaration of strength.
The other shoe on, Tea pushed to her feet. Her palms left smudges on the mirror behind her, and she left them there. The mark proved she had been here. She wasn’t missing anymore.
She made it out alive.
They won.
And lost all the same.
Her vision blurred, and angrily, blinked until it cleared. Her phone shook when she clicked through to her old playlist, made back in the great before. She had two years of music to catch up on, and didn’t want to put this off any longer.
Tossing her phone on top of her bag, Tea closed her eyes. Her tinny speaker played out the first song, a song popular two summers ago, and Tea let it fill her. The rhythm back through her shoulders, the beat in the sway of her hips, the lyrics a breath on her tongue.
She hadn’t forgotten how to listen. Not for footsteps in a hall, or the cart knocking into that one uneven stone six feet outside the bolted door. The music spun around her head, an almost tangible sensation, and she moved in free interpretation.
Without cameras in every corner, she had no reservations. No one could watch her dancing across the floor, no unnamed guards, only her own passing glances in the mirror. Only her and the music.
The island had no frosted windows.
The song switched. The beat quickened. She matched the new rhythm, unable to quiet her mind or dismiss the constant mantra: I’m okay. I’m okay.
The chant carried her from one melody to the next, her rhythm increasing until, nearly frantic, she spun and caught herself on the wooden bar mounted to the mirrored wall. Her chest rose and fell in heavy motions, and she met her own reflection—red, sweating, and entirely in control.
She felt good.
#okay#sharing the ones ive finished here#if i complete them all#ill add them to the actual story#for now yall can have the rough drafts#because 2016 bellamy should have written something
11 notes
·
View notes
Text
2025 will be the year i do something about my fantasy world
#it's been there in the back of my mind since.. 2016 i believe#even if all i do is write one sentence or do some worldbuilding or whatever it has to be something#i need it out of me and on paper#(that and i hate that so far all i have is wattpad drafts from 2017.. lmao)#My scritches
0 notes
Text
.
#ew not me finding disgustingly cheesy stuff I wrote#in the DRAFTS of this blog#right infront of my salad#like. a zombie(?) with no heart and a doctor who the zombie goes to once a day to have his heart checked lol#god i gotta delete these i swear#the thought of anyone receiving my laptop if god forbid something happens to me and then reading these is so mortifying to me#i rlly gotta delete these#do you want to hear the menu of these nonsense posts:#1. we got mr. no heart zombie w/ high body temp and his anemic heart doctor#2. miss palace botanist/healer and her annoying student who ends up being the second prince lol#3. cheerful oblivious guy and some one who views him from far as a thorn that causes hemorrhage#i think i just combined all my fears and horrors into dumb tragedies. fears: unwise relationships. the medical field. unrequited love#sorry to 2016-2019-me... i am deleting ur stuff. i mean. im glad u found some place to project your fear and sadness into.#What better coping method than to turn the story of you and your love for science into an unrequited love tragedy and personifying medicine#listing them here as I delete them because. I want to hold on to them for a few more seconds#4. a stupid long poem that makes it sound like I had a secret relationship but in actuality this is abt how in college-#-my physics lab professor used to abandon us in the lab without giving us instructions so we had to spend hours figuring everything out#honestly im gonna let go of these#they're all from a rough time in my life of studying and feeling like a failure and like I couldn't do anything right#there's no use in revisiting them and feeling bad abt it#delete later
0 notes
Text
Tell me specifics in the tags if you wish!
#:•)#long tags#ok so i’ve never mentioned this#but yes i have over 5000 drafts on this blog#it’s like#i’ve tried to keep what i post within the ‘limits’ of a daily moodboard#so when something i like doesn’t fit the daily aesthetic i’ll draft it (so i almost never queue)#i used to aim for 3 posts that i felt like rhymed#and posts 4 and 5 were encores if i could keep the vibe in focus and not blurry it too much#ALSO drafting/saving/bookmarking scratches a huge ADHD itch for me#unfortunately the digital hoarding reminds me of my mothers irl hoarding :•) but that’s for another day#but i’ve had this blog for 7-8 years so that’s realistically abt 2 drafts a day#old habits die hard#i can’t even scroll past 6 months of drafts though the app starts glitching#and if it boots me back to top it’s over#god knows what weeby shit lies deep in those 2016 drafts#i also changed my posting style to be more erratic#3 posts a day ain’t it#also why the charlie pfp fits so much better than my old anime mc photoshops lol#uhhhhhhhh yeah /end#adhdposting#EDIT: READING THE COMMENTS IS SO VALIDATING SOMEONE HAD 16000 HOLYYYYY
10K notes
·
View notes
Text
yeah i’m a very skilled writer
(i put the perfect ratio of yip to yap in my ramblings)
#this is yet again abt urahara#he makes me crazy bro#i read this corny ass post from 2016 abt him n yoruichi in chapter 660-something and wrote a reply to it in the tags#BOY WAS I BLABBERING#but it was kinda valid blabbering tho#anyways it’s staying in my drafts until i get up to that part and get to actually understand what’s up#clorox bleach
0 notes
Text
we can’t be friends (wait for your love) | max verstappen x best friend! reader
yourusername
liked by maxverstappen, kellypiquet, and others
yourusername maxxie won in brazil! so so so proud of my best friend 💗
view all 2,181 comments
user372 okay but compare y/n’s post to kelly’s and you can tell who actually is proud of him
↳ user33 one of them only posts when he wins and the other posts congratulating him no matter the results
maxverstappen ecstatic to have you in the paddock this past weekend! thanks for coming y/n/n
↳ yourusername i’m there whenever you want me to be maxxie!
kellypiquet so so proud of my boy!
↳ yourusername so proud of him too! 💗
user81 kelly staking her claim on max like y/n and max aren’t just friends 😭
↳ user44 you don’t know the lore??? go check user711’s pinned on twitter… rip y/nmax ☹️💔
francisca.cgomez great to see you around this weekend! missed you tons bbygirl 💗
↳ yourusername missed you tons kiks, so so grateful to have seen you this weekend 😘
user4 missed the ynmax content </3
↳ user71 when we went YEARS without ynmax content because kelly told y/n she didn’t like her relationship with max :(
twitter user771 pinned tweet!
kellypiquet
liked by maxverstappen, yourusername, and others
kellypiquet still riding the high ☄️
view all 2,373 comments
yourusername so so proud of him! can’t believe it!
↳ kellypiquet p’s asking when auntie y/n can come over
↳ yourusername give me a date and a time and i’ll babysit for you!
user832 only posting when he wins is crazy 😭
user18 diabolical move telling y/n (the ultimate mom friend) that her daughter wants to see her auntie y/n
↳ user33 plotting how to get rid of y/n using P
maxverstappen ❤️
messages between Kelly and y/n
kellypiquet and maxverstappen
liked by landonorris, carlossainz, and others
kellypiquet and maxverstappen baby verstappen coming may 2025!
view all 8,382 comments
user33 no y/n in the likes ???
↳ user72 ynmax drought again????
↳ user21 definitely something to do with max and kelly having a baby together ☹️💔
carlossainz congratulations to the two of you!
↳ maxverstappen thank you carlos!
landonorris that was.. unexpected. godfather lando 2025!
↳ maxverstappen and who said anything about you being godfather?
user91 the way y/n would’ve been the mother of max’s kid if they both stopped being delusional 💔
↳ user61 leave them alone my god, do you y/n fans ever stop being weird
↳ user91 nah this has gotta be kelly’s burner or something 😭
lewishamilton congrats man! happy for you!
↳ maxverstappen thank you! means a lot coming from you
yourusername
liked by charles_leclerc, lewishamilton and others
yourusername while i am not officially a musician, i have dabbled in music before… here’s my first ever single, we can’t be friends, out friday! i hope you love it just as much as i do.. and a special thank you to charles_leclerc and lewishamilton for helping produce and cowrite this song!
view all 7,382 comments
lewishamilton thank you for letting me help produce this song! so so proud of you and how far you’ve come from the little girl in the paddock chasing around her papa and his drivers to now being an official marketing and pr agent
↳ yourusername thanks lew! i appreciate you so so much! truly such a blessing for you to help me out with this!
user832 okay but album when?
↳ user1 CHILL she just released a single
user44 and when we get an album about what truly went down 2016-2020 then what
↳ user33 hey so actually let’s not because i’ll go insane
charles_leclerc thank you for letting me compose some of the piano parts! it was a blessing to be able to work with you
↳ yourusername no, thank you for helping me get the ideas out of my head! so honored to work with you on this piece
messages between max and y/n
this was definitely not what was supposed to come out first, but i figured posting this which was sitting in my drafts was better than trying to write and add photos to a new smau! so hurt my feelings, which is max x ex! reader, will be out sometime by the end of the week (or beginning of next week at the latest)! this is very short, but i do really like this one and wanted to post it to garner feedback on what everyone seems to like seeing from me! likes and reblogs are appreciated.. (also i am working on a taglist and masterlist, so comment down below if you’re interested in being added to a taglist!)
#f1 smau#formula one#f1 social media au#f1 imagines#formula one imagine#f1 x reader#max verstappen smau#formula one social media au#max verstappen x reader#max verstappen#max verstappen social media au#max verstappen fanfic#max verstappen fluff#max verstappen angst#max verstappen series#max x reader#f1 x y/n#formula one x you#formula one x y/n#formula one angst#f1 imagine#f1 fic#f1#formula one x reader#formula one smau#we can’t be friends universe
942 notes
·
View notes
Text
guysss. im writing again. im so happy yeyeyeyeye
#its original stuff#i had the idea since 2016 (?)#at least thats when i wrote down some stuff#and couple days ago i came back to it and started thinking#ofc theres almost nothing yet just some ideas but you know how it is with first drafts#i should really be writing something else#i was almost finished with this other thing and then depression hit hard and i never finished#but there are people still waiting for it to continue and i hate that im disappointing them .-.#but oh well at least im writing and im excited about it :D :D :D#should i make a writeblr#i used to have one but i deactivated it some time ago#i shouldnt have done that tbh .-.
0 notes
Note
I don’t really have a lot to ask I just want to say I love your art style! It kind of reminds me of like Eldritch Horror meets Celestial Divinity type of thing so with that said I was wondering on how you came to this type of art style you do and how long did it take you to experiment until you found the style that you wanted? Sorry if that sounds kinda confusing 😅 thanks for taking the time to read this and have a good rest of your day!
Thank you! I did not found my artstyle, my artstyle found me. Here is a timeline of my digital art/illustration journey
2014 - The beginning
I finally took my tablet and bit the bullet that was digital art. I remember specifically forcing myself to draw (because it was not fun) because I wanted to learn digital art no matter what it took.
2016 - Experimental
Boldness seems to have dominated this phase, not because of the themes but because I rendered without any under sketch (example above of how the first draft looked like vs the end)
2017 - The breakthrough
It was only from here that digital art began feeling RIGHT. The most important things I've learned were how to render texture variation (especially softer things like hair and fur) and how to color a drawing from greyscale. I was slowly settling onto my desired artstyle
2019 - Happy accident
We were tasked to design characters based on chess pieces during college. 1 week deadline. With the mindset that no one will see my designs except my teacher and I, I did things boldly and rendered them (trad ink plus digital shading) to emphasize shape and design, rather than texture variation.
I began mixing traditional lineart with digital rendering.
2020 - Fallen from heaven
My friend and I decided to attempt to design angels based on widely popular tumblr emoji mashups. It was the first time I colored one of my character design drawings, using similar methods to the ones I've learned in 2017.
2017 - 2024
I cannot name nor describe my artstyle nowadays. I haven't seen many people with something similar either. I use what I've learned in all my phases; the spontaneous boldness of 2016, the texture variation of 2017, the sharp shapes and design mindset of 2019, the mix of traditional and digital from 2020. It all melted together and keeps evolving.
The way I approached art changed too. I was so worried about making things beautiful and technically outstanding when today I only worry about making things interesting and readable.
576 notes
·
View notes
Text
wedding crashers | jack hughes
warnings: semi public sex, pining on jack's side, older!reader (jack is 22, she is 26), unprotected p in v (always... do as i do not as i say, wrap it when you tap it), fingering, dirty talk, insinuation of oral (m & f receiving) pairing: jack hughes x fem!reader request: "jack hughes and a slightly older reader (like idk 3 years older maybe), i feel like he’s so sassy and cocky that he would go nuts if he was able to get an older girl hahaha, maybe it could be like a challenge type situation where they were bantering over whether he’d be any good in bed bc he’s “just a baby” or something so he has something to prove.. 🫣" wc: 4167
You’d first met Jack Hughes in 2015. You were at one of the USA Developmental games with Matthew, your best friend at the time, watching his brother play for the last time that year. Since it was Christmas just recently, this was the only time you’d get to see Matthew until who knew when. Even though it involved hockey, which always stole Matthew’s attention from you, you decided to join him anyway. It was Matthew that introduced you to the Hughes family, after you had commented on Quinn’s performance.
Jack was a goof from the get-go. He was fourteen when you met, so all of his attempts to flirt with you went nowhere. Well, they made it to the front seat of Matthew’s car, where you laughed about the younger boy’s boldness. He was a sweet boy, and cute in a way that made you want to pinch his cheeks, and you were able to watch him grow up and come into himself.
Your friendship with Matthew had dwindled since he was drafted in 2016, but you were still close enough with his family to be invited to Brady’s wedding. It was there that Jack cornered you, hitting on you for the umpteenth time. Now, he was 22 years old, overconfident and cocky due to years of praise from not only his coaches and peers, but from every pretty girl that fell into his company. You were 26, mature and happy with the life you had made for yourself.
Jack had never stopped chasing you, though it wasn’t an overbearing and constant chase. He was sure that he would conquer you someday, having never forgotten the way he rubbed himself raw after he had first met you and you had smiled in his direction. What can he say– he was fourteen and a pretty girl, an older girl had smiled at him.
And, pleasantly tipsy, Jack had decided that today was that day.
He tore himself away from Luke, having delivered a new drink to his underage brother, and made his way to you. You were sitting with one of Brady and Matthew’s relatives, making small talk over a glass of white wine. Your legs were crossed in a way that Jack could only describe as dainty, your nails painted a pretty blush color that matched your dress. Jack licked his bottom lip when an image of your hand around his cock, with those painted nails contrasting the color of his member, flashed through his mind.
“Sorry to interrupt,” Jack said, not really feeling sorry at all. He turned to you. “I was wondering if you’d join me for a dance.”
You smiled and shook your head slightly, a small laugh falling from your lips. “Sure, Jack.” To the Tkachuk relative, you excused yourself, standing to take Jack’s extended hand. You took a sip from your wine glass, polishing off the drink.
Jack truly couldn’t have chosen a better moment to ask you to dance, as a new song began and decided for you, due to its pace, that the two of you would engage in a waltz of sorts. Jack wasn’t much of a dancer, but he was able to box step in time with the music and lead you through the dance.
You had given Jack a knowing look when his hand found its way to the small of your back, threatening to dip dangerously onto the curve of your ass. Your hand rested on his shoulder, the other in his hand, held close to your bodies.
Jack pulled you close to him, mere inches between your bodies. You laughed again, your head dipping to fall on his shoulder for a split second.
“What?” Jack asked as you flicked your hair from your eyes with a slight tilt of your head. “You’re supposed to be close when you dance.”
You rolled your eyes. “Whatever you say, Jack.” Your voice was light, almost sing-songy. “Your intentions are nothing if not innocent, isn’t that right?”
“I just want to dance,” Jack deflected, but the smile on his face told you everything you needed to know. His eyes were shining, both from the drinks he had consumed and the charged energy between your bodies.
You raised your eyebrows and pursed your lips, trying to suppress a smile as you and Jack continued to stare at each other. You broke first, looking away and shaking your head.
“What?” Jack said. “You don’t believe me?”
“No, I don’t believe you.”
“Oh, I’m hurt by that.” Jack pouted, his bottom lip jutting out in a way that caught your attention. It was plush and pink and just a little cracked from sun exposure. You knew Jack had spent the beginning of the summer out on the lake, and his skin reflected that– both tan and sunkissed at once.
Though you hated to admit it, Jack had grown up to be very attractive. He glowed, especially in the summer, especially when he had a few drinks in his system and he had grown a little more brash and a little more bold.
“Poor Jacky,” You teased. You tilted your head down and blinked up at him through your lashes, saying in a baby-voice: “I hurt the little baby’s feelings?”
“You did,” Jack agreed, his pout just becoming more exaggerated. “How are you going to make it up to me?”
Your whole body moved with your laugh this time. “I suppose you’re about to ask me to kiss it better.”
“Well, I was hoping for more than just a kiss,” Jack said, chuckling at your laughter. He licked his bottom lip before biting it in a cheeky smile, the apples of his cheeks prominent and pink. His teeth were a sharp white contrast to the red dusting across his cheeks, but you found yourself growing fond of that shameless smile the more you saw it.
“Jack, you’re a baby,” You laughed. “In the real world, you’d have just graduated college. I know things are different because you’re a big, famous hockey player and you’ve been doing this job for years, but the fact of the matter is that you’re just too young for me.”
Jack was unscathed by your rejection, just like he always was. He didn’t even mind that your tone was borderline condescending, like you were talking to a five year old instead of a grown adult.
“Plus, Jacky–” You smiled, itching to hammer the final nail in this coffin. “You can’t handle a grown woman.”
His eyes grew dark at that. “I can handle a grown woman,” He stated, voice definite.
You threw your head back, not quite laughing, but not quite rolling your eyes in exasperation either.
Jack’s hand left yours and found your jaw in a flash, bringing your face back to his. “I can handle a grown woman,” He repeated. His gaze flickered down to your lips. “Let me prove it.”
Your breath caught in your throat, eyes flickering down to his lips to match his motions. “In your dreams,” You denied, bringing your hand to his chest to put some distance between you.
Jack didn’t allow it. If anything, he pulled you closer. He pressed his hips into yours, took your hand off his chest and resumed its original dancing position. He tugged you tight to him, tight enough that you were looking over his shoulder and his mouth hovered right next to your ear.
“I’d be so good to you,” Jack whispered. Your eyes flickered around the room, but no one seemed perturbed by yours and Jack’s positioning. “I’ve had a long time to think about this, Y/N. Let me tell you what I’d do, what I have done in my dreams.”
You didn’t say anything, but the fingertips of the hand on his shoulder found the hair at the nape of Jack’s neck and stayed there.
“I always start by kissing you. Always. I’d start slow– just feeling how these pretty pink lips feel against mine. I’d wait for you to loosen up, to open your mouth and invite me in for more. I’m going to keep going slow, but I’m going to slide my tongue into your mouth and kiss you until I’ve figured out just what you taste like. Today, you’ll taste like your white wine at first, but I’m going to kiss you until I’ve deciphered your taste, Y/N.”
Jack moved his hand to your waist and squeezed gently.
“I’d start with my hands here, but I wouldn’t be able to help myself. I’ll start moving, feeling every inch of you. There’s not a part of your body where my fingerprints won’t be found. You won’t know what to focus on– when one of my hands is tangled up in your hair, the other one is going to squeeze your ass and really feel it out because I’ve been thinking about it for so long. And all the while, darling, I’ll be kissing you and stealing the breath from your lungs.”
You gasped at that, shifting closer to Jack. He smiled, knowing that he was closing in on the moment that he’d been wanting for the past eight years. His hand moved to the curve of your ass and you’re nearly helpless with it, or just unwilling to chide him for venturing that far. Jack made eye contact with Quinn over your shoulder and smirked, showing his teeth in a cheshire way.
He spoke again. “But then I’d bring my fingers down, won’t I? I’ve made you breathless, I’ve made you moan, I’ve got you begging for more– something you thought you’d never do. Yet here we are, and you’re always dripping for me.”
By the end of his sentence, Jack’s voice was barely audible. You were straining to hear him, and his mouth was right next to your ear. You felt a bit breathless already, strung together by terrible stitching. Your resolve snapped when you felt his lips close around your earlobe, his teeth tugging at your skin gently.
You jumped away from him like you’d been electrocuted by his touch. You’re breathing heavily, chest heaving.
Jack fared no better, standing in the same spot. You watch his chest rise and fall, the little bit of his skin you can see between his unbuttoned white shirt glistening. His mouth was slightly open, ready to whisper something else dirty in your ear.
You looked him up and down like you couldn’t decide where to focus, like you were fulfilling a prophecy where Jack made you fumble where you once stood so sure.
In a second, you made your decision. You needed to see how this would end, needed to feel it for yourself.
You grabbed Jack’s hand and dragged him out of the reception hall, down the winding hallways until you’ve deemed that you’re far enough away from the party that no one would be able to find you if they came looking.
You shoved Jack into a closet– a closet, you thought to yourself, wanting to laugh at the absurdity. When you closed the door behind you and turned to find Jack’s eyes, he was waiting with a stoney face, not letting any of his emotions show. You’d have killed to know what he was thinking.
All you could do was nod, mouth opening and closing a few times, but never finding words.
Jack tilted his head, his eyes flashing in the darkness.
“Please,” is the single word that ended up breaking the silence between you.
Jack’s lips were on yours in the blink of an eye. His hands cradled your face and his kiss was insistent, bruising. He was slow, sure, but he was emphatic, unyielding. The kiss reflected the eight years of waiting that had passed before he got this chance.
His hand pulled one of your legs up onto his hip before it circled around you to knead the skin of your ass. Your dress, already short because Brady and Emma had planned for a wedding in the dead of summer, rode up until your behind was barely covered.
All the more for Jack to hold onto as his tongue made its way into your mouth.
You continued to kiss, breaking apart only to take a breath and recover, unbuttoning the rest of Jack’s shirt and pushing it down his arms. Your hands roamed his torso, feeling every muscle that Jack had worked so hard to build.
Jack’s mouth traveled south, sucking along the skin of your neck. He bent down, both of his hands finding your thighs and lifting you. You wrapped your legs around him and ground down against him, finally getting some relieving friction from the sizable bulge that was pressing against his zipper. Jack moaned out loud, gasping at your movements.
“What next?” You asked, grinding down again.
“What?” Jack replied, lost in the moment. His eyes met yours and they seemed cloudy, swirling with lust.
“After you, shit, after you touch me–” Your head tipped back as he pressed a kiss to your collarbone. “What do you do next, in your dreams?”
It took a minute to register for Jack, too caught up in the feeling of your pussy against his cock, even if there were multiple layers separating you.
“I touch you,” Jack said, the obvious next action. “I don’t do anything, I just touch you. I use two fingers and I find every spot that makes you react. Once I’ve got you figured out, I–”
You cut him off. “Do it,” You told him. Your head felt light, almost dizzy, and you nodded like a bobblehead. “Do it.”
Jack let out a pathetic, wanton whimper at your command and walked forward until you were pressed against the wall. He shifted you over to that you were held up by his thigh and he brought one hand down to your panties.
He felt over the skimpy fabric, which was barely doing anything anymore. It was soaked, darkened with your slick, and briefly, Jack thought to take it off of you and pocket it to bring home as a souvenir. How dirty you would feel going back out to the reception… the thought of it nearly made Jack’s knees buckle. It would be a constant reminder that he’d won, that he’d managed to fuck you and satisfy you after thinking about it for so long.
He allowed his fingers to wander up and down the expanse of your pussy, cataloging how you whined when he rubbed over your swollen clit and how you clenched down when he pushed at your entrance through the fabric covering it. He noticed how your stomach tensed as he teased his way across your lips, running his finger over each curve and ridge.
As if inspired by something divine, Jack pulled your panties taut, making them ride up into your cunt and provide some gratifying friction when you next ground down on his hand. Jack watched, eyes wide, as you chased your own pleasure. His hand was the catalyst and you were moving mindlessly, like he had already plucked every thought from your head and replaced it with desire for him.
“Fuck,” Jack choked out, feeling a spark zip up his spine. “Y/N.”
He said your name with such reverence, and flexed his hand against you like an offering.
“Fuck me,” You said. Your hands found Jack’s hair and you pressed your lips to his. “Jack. I need you to fuck me. I need you inside me, I can’t– oh, need you to make me come. Baby, I’m so close already, I need you.”
Jack’s cock was throbbing like he might burst from the slightest breeze. There it was again– “Baby.” It didn’t mean the same thing now, Jack knew it was more of a term of endearment than an insult, but it lit a fire under him nonetheless. He was going to prove to you that he wasn’t a baby, that he was a man and in this moment, you were his. He was going to fuck you hard, like you’d never imagined he was able to do. He was going to make your legs shake, make it so you couldn’t walk or do anything but sit prettily at your table and sip on another glass of wine to cool you off.
He was going to make it so that the next time he saw you, you’d be begging him to make you come again.
Jack let your feet find the floor again, stepping back just far enough to get his hands on his belt. “Strip,” Jack commanded. “I want to see you.” At the same time, he unbuckled his belt and worked to remove his dress pants. He kicked them away, in a crumpled little pile near his dress shirt. His underwear joined shortly after.
You hurried to remove your dress, eyes locked in on Jack’s cock. It was a burning red at the tip, wet and straining. It stood away from his body, solid and you swore you might’ve just felt some drool pool at the corner of your mouth.
His hand fisted his cock, eyes lasered in on your protruding nipples when you dropped your dress to reveal your body.
Jack sighed, stroking himself slowly to keep himself at bay. “You’re better than I dreamed,” He said, causing you to blush.
“Jack,” You whined, aching for him to come closer, to slide inside you.
“Let me.” Jack stepped forward and got to his knees, gently bringing your panties down and helping you out of them. He dropped a kiss on your clit before standing again.
You brought an arm around his neck, your other hand placed solidly on his chest. You could feel his pulse racing wildly beneath your palm and you suddenly remembered that he’d been waiting to do this for years.
“Come on, Jacky,” You voiced. “Prove yourself.”
It was a weak command, a weak insistence, barely any indicator of sureness in your voice now. Jack had turned you inside-out, made you question everything because you never imagined you’d need him the way you do now.
He practically growled and you could feel it rumble in his chest. He captured your lips with his, nibbling on your bottom lip before filling your mouth with his tongue. It was slippery and wet and it felt like magic.
Jack pressed the tip of his cock against your entrance, feeling the head slide in. He stopped there for a minute, breathing deeply into your mouth to ground himself. He couldn’t disappoint you, wouldn’t dare shoot off early and cut short the night that he’d been fantasizing about since he was a teenager.
“So good,” You breathed out, feeding the words to Jack. He dipped his head and inched further into you, moving slowly until your pelvis connected with his.
“Fuck,” Jack whimpered out.
His thrusts started shallow. Jack felt like you were constricting him, squeezing him like a snake in a cartoon. His voice was caught in his throat like an ugly lump and the only noises that could force their way past it were groans and “uh”s that borderline on squeaky. He didn’t care about the noises, he didn’t care that he could be embarrassing himself in front of the girl he’s wanted for so long.
It didn’t matter to you, either– you were too caught up in the feeling of Jack’s cock sheathed inside of you. He was pressing against your most intimate spots and you could feel him throbbing inside of you, dragging delectably along your walls.
His thrusts grew deeper, became longer, harder. Jack’s hair fell into his eyes and you brushed it away. His eyes met yours and the air between you felt thick and charged. You brought your hand to Jack’s jaw and leaned forward, connecting your lips.
This kiss was different. It was soft, intimate. Your tongues slid against each other, licking into each others’ mouths and swallowing each others’ groans and whimpers. You forgot for a few minutes that you were in a closet at the wedding of a man you’d known since you were children, fucking a man that you swore you’d never touch because he’s too young.
That man was quickly proving that he’s one of the best fucks in your whole life.
Here he was, mouthing against your neck after moving away from your lips. He was making these desperate noises, thrusting into you like he’s taking a chance at something he’ll never have again. At the beginning of this night, you might have agreed that he’d never get another chance. Now, you can’t help but look forward to the next time you see him, when you’ll get your mouth on his thick, skillful cock.
You told him such, and Jack fucked you harder as a result. His hands clutched at your waist, fingertips destined to leave bruises.
His cock entering and leaving you caused the closet to fill with wet noises and the sound of the slapping of skin. That, paired with Jack’s pants and whines, pushed you further to the edge. Your climax wound up inside you, tense and heavy in your gut.
“Jack,” You said, voice pleading. “I’m close.”
A moan was ripped from Jack’s chest, sweat beading at his hairline. The look in his eyes was almost animalistic, capturing you in his gaze like you’re the only being that exists in the world.
“Please,” Jack panted out. “Come on my cock.”
The winding coil of your climax unravels as Jack continues to thrust his length into you, drawing himself almost completely out of you and then forcing his cock back into your cunt. Your release leaked down his shaft, coating him completely.
The vice grip of your pussy on his cock made Jack hesitate, made him stutter. He still didn’t want to shoot off, he didn’t want to fill you up with his come, because that meant that this would be over. His dream, journey, his conquest would be complete, and he’d have to find something else to lust after.
He knew in his heart that he was still just Jack, just a younger hockey guy who you’d known when he was pimply and stick-like, one who could never fit into your life the way he wished he could.
He’d almost rather torture himself, deny himself from his release, than have this end.
But end it must, and it ended with a breathy whisper of his name.
“Jack,” You mewled, twitching in oversensitivity.
“Oh,” He groaned as his cock jumped inside you, your walls milking him for everything he has. His eyelashes fluttered as you seemed suddenly re-energized, fucking yourself on his cock as he came inside you. It was like his come brought you to life, something too powerful and symbolic for him, and Jack closed his eyes at the thought.
You came down together, eyes finding each other intermittently in the darkness, only when the other wasn’t looking. Your breaths synched, unknowingly, as you dressed yourselves. You were close enough that your elbows could bump as you pulled your clothes on, but both of you were too conscious of the tension to let it happen.
You finished dressing yourself first and you looked over to Jack, feeling something close to awe as he buttoned his shirt and left some skin exposed. You were drawn to it, wanting to reach out and reveal the curve of his shoulder, the dip of his collarbone, the ridge of his waist again and get your mouth on him, but you couldn’t move.
The tension felt like molasses, thick and heavy. Jack’s eyes met yours and you knew that the emotion in his eyes reflected your own: that you knew everything had changed and you didn’t know if it was for the better or for the worse.
Jack opened his mouth to say something, but you shook your head. You made your way into his space, tilting your head up to meet his lips in a sweet, short kiss. You pressed something soft into his hands, then turned and left the closet, leaving Jack alone in the dark.
He didn’t know how you knew, but you had handed him your ruined panties. He slipped them into the pocket of his pants, mentally noting to find his suit jacket and move the panties to the inside pocket of that garment.
When he saw you again at the reception, almost a half an hour later, you were sipping a new glass of wine. Jack made eye contact with you over the glass and patted his pocket, the small lump of your panties still visible to those who looked closely, and he grinned to himself when he saw you blush.
He’d text you later that night, having bummed your number off of Brady years ago but never used it until now. It was a simple message, teasing and confident, bold like you had come to expect from Jack:
“lmk when u want to see what i can do w my tongue ;)”
note: this might just be my magnum opus. this is my favorite thing that i've written in ages. i had toooo much fun with this. ...will write a part 2 when jack DOES show her what he can do with his tongue... maybe paired with another recent request i got about jack's current injury and what he is or is not able to do with his shoulder.
P.S. I'm not married to the title of this. It was kind of just something I threw out there. They do not crash a wedding. Although their behavior is certainly dramatic & would disrupt the wedding.
#puck-luck's fics#jack hughes#jack hughes smut#jack hughes x reader#jack hughes x y/n#jh86#nhl smut#nhl x reader#nhl fanfiction#nhl x y/n#nhl fic#andy writes anything🍄
617 notes
·
View notes
Text
What No One Tells you about Writing #3
Opening this up to writing as a whole, because it turns out I have a lot more to say!
Part 1
Part 2
1. You don’t fall in love with your characters immediately
But when you do, it’s a hit of serotonin like no other. I’d been writing a tight cast of characters for my sci-fi series since 2016 and switched over in a bout of writer’s block this year to my new fantasy book. I made it about ⅓ through writing the book going through the motions, unable to visualize what these new characters look like, sound like, or would behave like without a ‘camera’ on them.
Then, all of a sudden, I opened my document to keep on chugging with the first draft, and it clicked. They were no longer faceless elements of my plot, they were my characters and I was excited to see what they could accomplish, rooting for them to succeed. Sometimes, it takes a while, but it does come.
2. Sometimes a smaller edit is better than a massive rewrite
Unless you’re changing the trajectory of your entire plot, or a character’s arc really is unrecoverable, sometimes even a single line of dialogue, a single paragraph of introspection, or a quick exchange between two characters can change everything. If something isn’t working, or your beta readers consistently aren’t jiving with a character you yourself love, try taking a step back, looking at who they are as a person, and boil down what your feedback is telling you and it might demand a simpler fix than you expect.
Tiny details inserted at the right moment can move mountains. Fan theories stand on the backs of these minutiae. One sentence can turn a platonic relationship romantic. One sentence can unravel a fair and just argument. One sentence can fill or open a massive plot hole.
3. Outline? What outline?
Not every book demands weeks upon weeks of prep and worldbuilding. I would argue that jumping right in with only a vague direction in mind gives you a massive advantage: You can’t infodump research you haven’t done. Exposition is forced to come as the plot demands it, because you haven’t designed it yet.
Not every story is simple and straightforward, but even penning the first draft with your vague plan, *then* going back and adding in deeper worldbuilding elements, more thematic details, richer character development, can get you over the writer’s block hurdle and make it far less intimidating to just shut up and write the book.
4. It’s okay to let your characters take the wheel
I’ve seen writing advice that chastises authors who let their characters run wild, off the plan the story has for them. Yeah, doing this can harm your pacing and muddy a strong and consistent arc, but refusing to leave the box of your outline greatly limits your creativity. I do this particularly when writing romantic relationships (and end up like Captain Crunch going Oops! All Gays!).
Did I plan for these two to get together? No, it just happened organically as I wrote them talking, getting closer, getting to know each other better in the circumstances they find themselves in. Was this character meant to be gay? Well, he wasn’t meant to be straight, but you know what, he’d work really well with this other boy over here. None of that would have happened if I was bound and determined to follow my original plan, because my original plan didn’t account for how the story that I want to tell evolves. You aren’t clairvoyant—it’s okay if it didn’t end up where you thought it would.
5. Fight. Scenes. Suck.
Which is crazy because I love fantasy and sci-fi, the actiony-est genres. Some authors love battle scenes and fistfights. It comes naturally to them and I will forever be jealous. I hate fight scenes. I hate blocking and choreographing them. I hate how it doesn’t read like I’m watching a movie. I hate how it could take me hours to write a scene I can read in 5 minutes. I hate that there’s no way around it except to just not write them, or put in the elbow grease and practice.
Whatever your writing kryptonite is, don’t be too hard on yourself. It won’t ever replicate the movie in your head, but our audience isn’t privy to that movie and will be none the wiser of how this didn’t fit your expectations, because it’s probably awesome on its own. It could be a fight scene, sex scene, epic battle, cavalry charge, courtroom argument, car chase—whatever. Be patient, and kind to yourself and it will all come together.
6. Write the scenes you want to write first
And then be prepared to never use them. It can be mighty difficult working backwards from a climax and figuring out how to write the story around it, but if you’re sitting at your laptop staring at your cursor and watching it blink, stuck on a tedious moment that’s necessary but frustrating, go write something exciting. Even if that amazing scene ends up no longer working in the book your story becomes, you still get practice by writing it. Particularly if you hate beginnings or the pressure of a perfect first page is too high, you’re allowed to write any other moment in the book first.
And with that, be prepared to kill your darlings. Not your characters, I mean that one badass line of dialogue living rent free in your head. That epic monologue. That whump scenario for your favorite character. Sometimes it just doesn’t work out anymore, but even if it ends up in the trash, you can always salvage something from it, even if that’s only the knowledge of what not to do in the future.
7. “This is clearly an author insert.” … Yes. It is. Point?
No one likes Mary Sues, because a character who doesn’t struggle or learn to get everything they want in life is uncompelling. The most flagrant author inserts I see aren’t Mary Sues, they’re nerdy, awkward, boring white guys whose world changes to fit their perspective, instead of the other way around—they don’t have anything to say. I’m not the intended audience to relate to these characters and I accept that, but I don’t empathize with the so-called “strong female character” who also doesn’t have flaws or an arc either.
A good author insert? When the author gives their characters pieces of themselves. When the “author insert” struggles and learns and grows and it’s a therapeutic experience just writing these characters thrown into such horrible situations. They feel human when they’re given pieces of a human’s soul. They have real human flaws and idiosyncrasies. I don’t care if the author wrote themselves as the protagonist. I care that this protagonist is entertaining. So if you want to make yourself the hero of your book, go for it! But make sure you look in the mirror and write in your flaws, as much as your strengths.
#writing advice#writing resources#writing tips#writing tools#writing a book#writing#writeblr#fantasy#scifi#what no one tells you about writing
620 notes
·
View notes
Text
So I wanted to have all these parts of scripts that I love with destiel moments that were erased, changed, or added context in one place. Bare in mind that there are some that are Production Drafts and others Writer's Drafts, and so on.
4x02 - Are you there, God? It's me, Dean Winchester
Oh honey, he's gonna be your husband
Honestly, I'm just putting this here because I love this scene.
5x04 - The End
Cas received the order to follow Dean's commands once, and he sticked to it up 'til the end of everything.
7x17 - Born again identity
Just remember, this was after everything that happened in season 6 and widow!dean arc 1.0
Forward to Cas' speech in 15x18, yes the parallels.
Swear this is a whole Dean thesis. If we go back to what started this whole thing in tmwwbk. Dean tells Cas, we can fix this. And he never stopped wanting to fix it.
8x17 - Goodby Stranger
Like, I know they established that it didn't make sense for Dean to say I love you here, which fair, and we ended up which I need you (somehow worse).
But if we look at this as a whole, what Dean might understand is that saying I love you makes people leave him. Fastforward to the part when Dean takes the sigils so Cas can find him and Naomi visits and tells him that Cas doesn't return his feelings. Fastforward again to the You didn't trust me because even if we get to know that it was hard for Cas to leave with the tablet, away from Dean, Dean doesn't. For Dean, he left him, without even acknowledging that he loves/needs him, ignored him, and didn't trust him. Imagine you say I love you and you are left feeling abandoned, betrayed, and angry.
8x19 - Taxi Driver
This in the middle of I love you, and You didn't trust me is something
8x22 - Clip show
The one guy that's always had your back.
9x22 - Stairway to Heaven
Don't know what they smoked to write this, but I want some
10x23 - Brother's Keeper
You'll see the word shattered used a lot. This very much both destiel and drowley imo.
Season 12 is weirdly filled with these, so here are special mentions (because the max of pictures is 30 and there are too many moments). Most likely, it has to do with the market research by the end of 2016, which is why from 12-15, these scenes are more emotionally charged.
Mary saying Good friend when Dean and Cas hug in 12x01
Cas told Mary I promised (Dean) when they were talking outside the barn before going in to help Dean save Sam in 12x02
Dean telling Mary Get him outta here! when Cas was wounded in 12x12. And of course, when Cas says the things they have shared changed him (but that's on screen)
Cas texts? from 12x16
Dean is a worried husband on 12x18.
Dean explaining that no matter how much Cas messed up, did the wrong thing, or every dumb move he got it in 12x20. Cas was always Cas.
12x10 - Lily Sunder has some regrets
Dean telling Cas he has changed, and it has all been for the good. Again, forward to 15x18.
12x19 - The Future
This whole episode is charged with scenes from Dean and Cas. Like you have the angry Welcome home from Dean when Cas returns from Heaven. Dean calls Cas a super strong dude in a trenchcoat. The mixtape scene with the That was a gift. To keep. And Dean softening a bit even if he's angry because he's more worried.
But I think the biggest one is this one. The destiel sex scene (jk)
And after this, even though it is said in the show. There is more insistence from Dean to not let go of Cas -> We're not gonna let you just walk away. Not again. Not happening.
12x23 - All Along the Watchtower
The word shattered is mentioned a lot in the scripts. This is every part that describes Dean's reactions after losing Cas. Forward to 15x18.
13x06 - Tombstone
This is one of the best things that never happened in the show. You have Dean choking down his emotions saying he's much better now and Cas who fought with the empty with everything he had in 13x04 to return to Dean, coming to a meadow near a windmill because Dean thought he'd like it.
13x14 - Good Intentions
Forget about the in love part. They are best friends, and we didn´t get this.
13x20 - Unfinished Business
He lost Cas and it damn near broke him. Not we lost Cas, I.
14x12 - Prophet and Loss
Losing Dean was unacceptable. Cas said that losing Dean was unacceptable. And Dean got emotional. And then forward to 15x18, Cas just goes no, Dean can't die because that'd be unacceptable to me, so i'll sacrifice. And then, Dean gets emotional. Again. But for Dean, the unacceptable happened.
15x09 - The Trap
Forward to 15x20. In this future that Chuck showed Sam that he lost Dean the second Cas was gone.
Have I said how much they used the word shattered. Anyway, Dean wanted Cas to stay. That's his best friend.
He's amazing.
15x18 - Despair
This is not that different from what it was filmed, it is just that seeing it described makes it different. Especially when you get things as Still beautiful, still Dean Winchester, Dean is emotional, stunned, shocked. And have I said how much they used the word shattered. Also, you can see how it starts as a confession because Cas is confessing that he made a deal, but then it ends as a declaration, a declaration of love. Which makes testament such a good word for it.
15x19 - Inherit the Earth
The fact that Dean couldn't say Cas was gone
He's not the ultimate killer. He's not daddy's blunt instrument. He's someone who raised his little brother for love, who fought for the world for love and the most caring man on Earth
15x20 - Carry On
We don't talk about this episode because the script has way too many [omitted] but this is exactly what happened in 15x09 when Chuck showed their future to Sam if they followed the road they were taking.
Okay, that was it. Probably missed some, but for me, these are the parts that stand out.
287 notes
·
View notes
Text
“I think he’s still obviously one of the best in the world, but he’s not really getting the credit he deserves right now,” Marchand said. “A lot of the attention is on the younger guys, but if you look at the details of the game, and full 200 feet, he’s by far the best player in the League, him and (Colorado Avalanche forward) Nathan MacKinnon.”
He added, “Two good Nova Scotia boys.”
Marchand has long admired Crosby’s game, playing on a line with him and his then-Bruins teammate Patrice Bergeron at the 2016 World Cup of Hockey.
“It’s all in the way that he prepares and the way he has for years,” the 35-year-old said. “I think what a lot of players don’t understand, especially young players, is that the work that you put in when you’re younger and early in your career and even throughout your career, it doesn’t benefit you for the next season, it’s a continuation of building it for down the road.
“That’s something that he’s done so well for such a long time is the way he trains and takes care of himself and is always trying to get better, his competitiveness on and off the ice, it’s unmatched.”
Among the 32 players named to the 2024 All-Star Game on Thursday, including Marchand’s teammate David Pastrnak, Crosby has been named to the second-most appearances, with six. Only McDavid (7) has been named to more teams.
But Marchand doesn’t want Crosby -- with whom he trains in the summer in Nova Scotia -- left out of the conversation. He doesn’t want him forgotten. He knows Crosby’s history and that he remains an unbelievable player.
“He’s not as flashy as some of the higher-end guys,” Marchand said. “He’s direct. He plays safe but he plays hard and direct. He plays a winning game. I think he’s learned how to play the right way that you need to play in playoffs to have success. He plays that the entire season. He’s not trying to beat somebody one-on-one every time he gets the puck. He tries to find open space and find the open man, he moves it quick.”
Crosby has played 19 seasons in the NHL, ever since he was the No. 1 pick in the 2005 NHL Draft and has won the Stanley Cup three times with the Penguins. Bedard, who was the youngest-ever player named to the All-Star team, was taken No. 1 in the 2023 NHL Draft. He will be 18 years and 201 days old when the All-Star Game is played at Scotiabank Arena in Toronto on Feb. 3.
“That’s the way that the game is going,” Marchand said. “The young guys are getting the attention now. There’s a lot of flashy young guys coming to the League but if you look at the attention that Bedard’s getting compared to Sid, they’re not on the same level right now. Bedard’s a [heck] of a player for his age, but Sid’s one of the best to ever play the game, one of the top couple players in the League now and Bedard probably gets more attention than anybody.
“They’re trying to grow the game. They use the young names to do that. That’s great for the game of hockey, but you sleep on a guy like [Crosby], he uses that too. He feeds off of that. He’s got that drive, he wants to prove people wrong. We’ve seen it.”
404 notes
·
View notes